Archive of Our Own

(Even when you reach the end, the story never really ends, do they?)

After a long, successful run, bangtan disbands. They’re still well-known enough for continuous solo careers, but they’re also in their thirties and honestly jaded of the attention from camera lens accumulated over the years. Namjoon goes on a lengthy speech, thanking everyone—literally—who has helped nurtured and groomed bangtan, as well as those involved in their successes over the years, during their two hour press conference. Yoongi plays with the hem of his shirt, staring far back into a dark spot void of flashing lights. His focus is a bit dazed but the smile he tries to wear is as genuine as he can muster. It’s too late to berate himself over drinking until four in the morning but he still does anyway, glad that his headache is finally subsiding.

Namjoon says something funny that Yoongi misses and everyone catches, and there’s finally some sort of life in the stale room of clicks and shutters when an erupt of laughter rings through. Yoongi probably shouldn’t feel this way; he should be grinning like how Taehyung is, or biting through words holding back emotions like how Namjoon tries. Instead, he just feels empty.

Jimin tugs on his sleeves, and Yoongi distracted, lets Jimin loops on his finger.

It’s been a long time since he remembers having Jimin seated beside him for conferences, or anything for that matter.

Jimin grins wide, eyes crinkling, and doesn’t look exhausted for once in years even though the concealer doesn’t hide the bags under his eyes. Yoongi lets Jimin pulls him closer, although the younger still leans in. He whispers, low and raspy, voice having been unused the past hour, but Yoongi only pays attention to the scent of citrus clung unto Jimin’s skin and how he smells likes a faraway dream.

Jimin pulls back, eyes blinking expectantly and Yoongi can only crack a grin sheepishly, and tells him to repeat himself. So Jimin does, leans in and repeats—

For a happy ending, try A.

 
A.

“So when are you going to ask her out?” Jimin plops down next to Yoongi on the couch. He adjusts his headset mic as Yoongi presses at his temple, probably nursing a headache. Jimin notices the empty bottles of vodka and gin in his room even if Yoongi tries to hide them. But no one seems to pay mind to it so Jimin keeps mum and watches. And what he discovers make his heart feel sour.

He sees the way Yoongi’s gaze linger on her longer than usual, sees the way he steals glances and thinks no one catches. But Jimin watches. He always does.

“Who?” It comes out less like a question and more like a statement. Yoongi sounds tired and his eyes remain shut. Jimin turns and looks at him, fingers still rubbing at his temples – like that does anything – sees the washed out ends of his fringe falling over his eyes. Jimin wants to brush it away. He wants to do a lot of things, which he never does, learnt to deal with keeping it wrapped under layers of suppressed emotions.

“Ji-en.” Jimin shrugs, even though Yoongi doesn’t see. She’s been working with bangtan rather regularly as of recent, despite her own solo projects overseas. Seven out of twelve tracks in Yoongi’s most recent solo album had been co-produced by her, five were co-written and all were mixed and mastered by Ji-en. Long hours spent in the studio together; long hours spent everywhere together. Jimin never dwells on it too much.

The waiting room gets crowded as more staff members filter in while Hoseok and Jin make their arrivals known with their voices hollered at the top of their lungs.

Yoongi drops his hands to his sides, brings his right leg over his left and gives Jimin an unamused stare. He looks equal parts bored and irritated.

“You make googly eyes. You smile more around her. You both click well. Just saying. Maybe you should ask her out. You're not getting any younger.” Jimin tries to joke, the muscles pulling on his face foreign and cramped. He hates this smile he wears. He was supposed to play it off like a joke, but this whole conversation is just going to shit and now he feels like a joke.

It's been years, and every time Jimin tells himself to either let it go and move on, or fucking tell Yoongi. But he does neither and keeps coming back full circle. Bangtan keeps dominating charts, winning hearts and climbing up sales but Park Jimin stays stagnant, stale and broken.

Yoongi snorts and look away. Presses his foot back down on the ground with a stomp louder than necessary.

Namjoon swings the door open and asks where is Jungkook and Taehyung because it's another ten minutes to recording, these idiots—

“You really think I should ask her out?” Yoongi says. I really think you should ask me out, is what Jimin wants to say but instead he says something entirely dumb like yeah why not.

And Yoongi only nods, doesn’t say anything else and Jimin doesn’t find him at his side the rest of the day, or the week. He finds out from Hoseok one day during practice that Yoongi is going on a date, with Ji-en and Jimin almost slips. He ignores the wrench in his heart because he’s only got his big mouth to blame and comforts himself that, well, Yoongi’s never been easy to love and she’ll get tired of him just like how the others did. And then Jimin will help pick up and mend the pieces just like he always does, because Yoongi always go back to Jimin, and Jimin could never stay away.

Except one date turns into two, and two somehow becomes four, and between the haste and daze of promotions and a large-scaled concert tour, a year and a half flies past and they’re still fucking together. Yoongi smiles more, he doesn’t reek like alcohol anymore and he writes fucking shitty sappy lyrics. Jimin barely even recognizes his hyung.

Bangtan goes on another hiatus, and then another concert tour –  a world tour this time, and Jimin’s just waiting. He really shouldn’t but he’s just waiting, for when Yoongi comes to his hotel room in the wee hours of the morning, red puffy eyes and messy hair and Jimin will be ready to bring him in his arms and keep his cold heart warm again. He waits, and waits but it never comes. Yoongi despite being slightly more cheery, is still as sardonic as ever and doesn’t wilt. Ji-en never gets tired of Yoongi, and Yoongi forgets about Jimin as his safety net.

The world tour ends and two months later Jin enlists into national service. Yoongi braces for his turn while Jimin braces for a storm of shattered hearts. Namjoon, with Jungkook, writes and produces a full album for Jimin which he promotes and tops charts. Hoseok establishes a dance academy of his own and Taehyung lands with another drama role.

One week before Yoongi enlists he calls Jimin over to his apartment and he speeds over in ten minutes flat. He had been expecting a messy affair of shattered hearts during Yoongi’s enlistment, not so much before, but Jimin will take any chance he gets. He’s going to fucking tell Yoongi this time, he’s going to fucking scream it in his face.

But there are no tears when Jimin arrives. The house is neat and tidy, and it smells like fucking lavender and eucalyptus. Soft music plays on the stereo in Yoongi’s living room and Jimin thanks the heavens Ji-en is nowhere in sight.

Yoongi is happy to see him and he hugs him tight. Says mushy things to him that Jimin would have never thought he’d hear come out of Min Yoongi’s mouth in this lifetime. Tells him how much he owes him and how grateful he’ll always be to Jimin. He swallows, afraid to ask why for. Yoongi says he’s got a present for Jimin, and he passes him a thumbdrive and a file full of scribbles. He tells him that he prepared five tracks for Jimin, and it’s probably too early for his comeback but Yoongi wrote it for him and to him and he’s free to do whatever he pleases with it.

If the shy smile Yoongi wears is suppose to help, Jimin wants to scream in his face that it doesn't.

Yoongi also tells him there are two tracks that he raps in and he’s sorry that he didn’t partake in his first solo album but he worked hard on these tracks (they were more but Yoongi says they’re shit so) and he really hopes Jimin would like it. “You’re my lucky star. You know that right?” Yoongi smiles fondly. Well no, Jimin never knew that. Still doesn’t feel like it.

He goes home and immediately transfers the demos to his phone and plays it on repeat for the whole night, drills the lyrics in his head and lies in bed staring at his ceiling with silent tears rolling down his cheeks. The next morning he deletes all the tracks from his phone and chucks the thumbdrive and file away, buried far from sight. Yoongi enlists and life goes on, and Namjoon joins soon after. Taehyung quits acting because he’s never been too fond of it in the first place and takes up dj-ing.

When Yoongi returns (and it’s soon Jimin’s turn) he breaks the news of his engagement with Ji-en and he wants Jimin to be his best man. And Jimin has been playing the game long enough to know that what he says to Yoongi will always be the opposite of what he wants.

He doesn’t want to be his best man, he wants to be the man, for Yoongi. But Jimin says yes anyways. He also doesn’t renew his contract with bighit and leaves the thumbdrive in his drawer to rot.

The day before Yoongi’s wedding he almost crashes his car (entirely accidentally, in Jimin’s defense—that’s what being drunk and driving can do to you), and attends the wedding with a nasty gash on the side of his forehead. He covers it as best as he can but people still point it out anyway and the story behind it changes with every person he meets.

He excuses himself to the washroom and almost breaks the mirror but Taehyung enters and comments how dashing he looks with his hair swept up like that, and the suit fitting him snugly. Jimin smiles genuinely for the first time in a long time.

Yoongi makes a speech out to Jimin before the night ends and doesn’t shut up about how grateful he is, on how he only asked Ji-en out six, seven years ago just to spite the younger. Never imagined it’d worked out, because at that time he liked someone else. Everyone laughs at that. Jimin chokes on his spit.

He leaves without saying goodbye and Jimin is actually surprised Yoongi remembers about him, his phone buzzing maniacally. Jimin only hits the pedal harder, grip on his steering wheel tighter. He books a flight back to Busan the very next day and stays there for months. He changes his phone number and is pleasantly surprised when Taehyung still manages to reach him.

“Are you ever coming back?” Taehyung asks.

“Of course. I still have army to attend.” Jimin responds and they both laugh after a beat.

“We could go on a trip together after serving the nation. Just you and me. 95line only baby.” Taehyung’s voice is playful and gravelly. Jimin laughs again. They’ve always wanted to go on a trip together since trainee days.  “Also, I’ve been killing it with my dj skills. We could be the next big duo if you’d like.” Taehyung says seriously.

Jimin pauses, and Taehyung confirms that he didn’t renew his contract either. Only Jungkook and Namjoon did actually. Hearing their names, Jimin feels a pang of regret. He left without saying goodbye to Yoongi but he also shut out his other friends. He should reach out sometime.

And so after serving the nation Jimin and Taehyung go on a trip together, across Asia first then Europe, and actually ends up with a dj gig somehow (since Taehyung can speak English fluently now). They chance upon Jungkook in Belgium, who happens to be on the last leg of his tour and makes plan to catch up when they return to Seoul.

Jimin meets someone along the way and the gaping hole in his chest slowly gets filled, even though he doesn't know if it’ll ever be full. Maybe one day he’ll have the courage to face Yoongi again, but until then he’s fine just where he is.

For a different ending, try B.

B.

It’s mad loud, even from within the compounds, even with the metal doors sealed shut. Jimin can still hear clearly, the chanting from the fans on the other side in the filled-out stadium.

Jungkook wears his headset mic, a playful grin tugging on his lips, “What? Cold feet?”

Jimin snorts and attempts to mess up Jungkook’s perfectly styled hair.

Jungkook laughs, barks it out, because Jimin’s gone to tickling him now. Other members walking past the duo pay no mind to them - it’s a common sight. It’s proven that increasing numbers in their ages don’t decrease their playful, mischievous streaks. Namjoon sighs that ever since Jungkook hit twenty five he’s actually gone worse. And don't laugh Jimin, you’re not any better.

Jungkook elbows Jimin in the ribs and he howls out cries of pain dramatically. They don't cease fooling around even as they head to the stage, single filed along the pathway, Jungkook dodging the jabs Jimin throws.

The concert draws to an end, adrenalin still coursing through Jimin’s veins and he’s high from fatigue. Namjoon thanks the audience, spills words of wisdom like he always does. Namjoon never ceases to amaze Jimin. Sometimes he wonders what goes on in his head. Most times he wishes he had a fraction of what Namjoon has.

A sharp erupt of screams steal Jimin’s attention away. He turns to the screen behind, ignores the way his breath get knocked out of his lungs when sees Yoongi’s face fill up. Yoongi darts his tongue out nonchalantly and huffs, and the crowd grows wild. Jimin notices the sheen of perspiration on Yoongi’s skin, and his eyes follow the bop of his adam’s apple when he swallows. Yoongi tugs at his collar, exposing his collarbones. Jimin doesn’t look away.

He breaks his stare after a beat, and looks over to the left to see Yoongi crouched down near the edge of the stage, over a camera mounted on it.

Jimin grins, then runs over to Yoongi, colliding into him on purpose and he almost topples off stage. But Yoongi keeps his balance and even grins wide, at Jimin. Merely greets him. No death threats spewed and Jimin thinks today must be something.

Namjoon goes on to wrap the concert up by introducing the band, each band member playing a wicked riff at the mention of their names.

“You look awfully happy for someone doing a farewell tour?” Jimin shouts in Yoongi’s ear. The girls at the front rattle the barricades.

“Honestly, my brain’s long snuggled in my bed and I'm on reserved battery power so I'm as good as being drunk.” Yoongi slurs, eyes twinkling like he's letting him on on a secret. He sort of is anyway.

When Yoongi’s tired, Jimin has learned that he generally has three moods. When he's snappy, irritable and his words can sting for days. Or he could be extremely quiet and sleepy, lids drooping as he fights to keep them open, or he stones and stares into space, mental capacity functioning at the minimum. Then there are times, when Yoongi is so tired and exhausted that he goes absolutely berserk, hollers at the top of his lungs and laughs at anything and everything.

He also becomes extra clingy to Jimin, not that he minds.

So when Jimin finds Yoongi clad in an oversized black jumper and grey sweats, rubbing his eyes when he opens the hotel door – the sight making both his heart soar in warmth and chest tight – he can only step aside. Jimin’s still got his toothbrush in his mouth, lodged between his tongue and teeth and he stares widely at Yoongi. Yoongi informs Jimin casually that Jin’s out of it, making ramyeon and invited Jungkook over, who in turn brings Taehyung over and it’s too noisy to sleep even though he is fucking tired, so Jimin-ah can hyung sleep with you just for tonight?

And Jimin had been looking forward to spend the night on the big ass king-sized bed absolutely content with rolling and tumbling about all on his own. He declined both Jungkook and Taehyung in a heartbeat and never once wavered even when either party tried to outdo each other in their attempts to treat Jimin like an absolute king. But it’s Yoongi, and Jimin rarely ever says no to him. He nods mutely, clenches on his toothbrush and snaps out of it when he feels the toothpaste foam trickling down to his chin.

But one night turns into two, and two becomes three, and soon Jimin doesn’t remember how it feels like to fall asleep without Yoongi in his arms or pressed to his side, or the scent of Yoongi’s mint shampoo tickling at his nose.

Their farewell tour finally ends, after another five months in 20 cities and they go back to their own apartments when they return to Seoul. Jin and Yoongi enlist in national service and the rest extend their contracts with solo projects, because they’re not bangtan without all seven of them. When Yoongi finishes his service they throw another big celebration for him, who the fuck cares they just drank their guts away just the day before welcoming Jin back?

And Jimin is choked with words and emotions because he never thought he’d ever miss Yoongi this much. And there’s a million things he wants to tell him, but he’s not sure where to start. But Jimin swallows it all back down when Yoongi, after his seventh beer, with crinkly eyes and a slur to his voice lets Jimin on on another secret. That while he was in army he thought a lot. That he’s lonely, and that no matter how cynical he may be towards love he’s always been craving for it. That that the girl over there, with arms full of tattoos and a sharp gaze is really cute. That he’s at this new phase of his life and Jimin-ah I’m ready, I’m ready to fall in love, to love someone, to dream of that picket white fence and rose garden and all that shit.

So Jimin beams like how he usually would, voice an octave higher than usual, louder than usual, all forced smiles and insincere wishes. All teasing and playful punches. Doesn’t shut the fuck up because if he does then the silence in his head becomes deafening to his ears. Doesn’t stop slobbering up on any alcohol he lands his hands on. Drinks until his neck goes red, until his head feels heavier than his heart, until he picks his feet up and ask the girl for her name and number because Yoongi’s out of it to do it himself. Doesn’t want Yoongi to miss out an opportunity like this because he has Yoongi back like that. Slips the paper into Yoongi’s jeans and makes it back home in one piece. Pukes his guts out and falls asleep on the toilet bowl.

Taehyung calls him stupid, scolds him even, because who are you even? Don’t you always fight for what you want? But Jimin says he can’t fight for something he doesn’t know if it’s worth fighting for. But when Yoongi and Ji-en makes it official, Jimin breaks his contract and leaves. He’s got a shit ton of money anyway. A fraction less isn’t going to deepen the cracks in his heart.

He takes up some quick business course over the next year and with the help of his manager (who he is eternally touched and grateful towards for leaving together with him), meets the right people and makes the right connections and he starts up a dance academy. News travel fast and the registration piles because a dance academy from an ex-member of bangtan? Park Jimin? We still want a piece of you, what a pity you left the showbiz (when will you come back?).

Two years later Jimin is surprised to receive a job application for the opening for dance instructors from Jung Hoseok. He calls the number on the form and demands him to come right over this instance.

One year later they become partners, and the dance academy is doing really well. Jimin teaches more than he dances, but he still dances for hours in a day. Hoseok asks if he still keeps in touch with any of the other members. Not really, he shrugs. He used to think bangtan was infinite and limitless. But seasons change and so do people. Life can bring us together and bring us apart. He doesn’t say because it still hurts to see Yoongi’s face.

Hoseok never probes and Jimin’s grateful for that. He’s always liked that about him. Jimin misses them all dearly though. Maybe one day he’ll stop sticking his head in the sand. Maybe one day he’ll get burnt out from running. Maybe, but today’s probably not the day. And music still thrums the blood in his veins and dancing still keeps his sane. Hoseok’s a great company. Jimin looks forward to what 2031 may bring.

Jimin receives a wedding invitation from Yoongi before the year ends and throws it in the bin.

He shows up anyways.

For a different ending, try C.

C.

“What?” Yoongi is wary when Jimin slips a paper stealthily across the table. He probably doesn’t trust the smirk Jimin’s wearing.

Yoongi reaches for the paper anyway.  The curiosity in his eyes go dead when realization hits him what Jimin just gave him. “A number, really?” Yoongi deadpans.

“Not just any number. Ji-en’s.” Jimin says proudly.

“And why do I even need her number?” Yoongi sets the paper back down. He looks as tired as he sounds. Jimin rolls his eyes. Jimin tells him to stop asking so many questions and just fucking ask her out. He tells Yoongi your lyrics are getting angstier and depressing and it’s making him depressed. Yoongi mumbles to just let him be, it’s just fucking lyrics they can mean everything and nothing.

Two days later when Jimin gets fed up and goes to the kitchen after tossing and turning in bed for an hour, he chances upon Yoongi returning home at three-thirty in the morning. Jimin’s leaning by the counter, arms folded with a cup in his hand. Fatigue wear his bones down and annoyance still bubbles in his chest. It’s been a long, tiring day, and all Jimin wants is to fall asleep but he can’t. He misses the click of the lock and the turn of the knob but he definitely doesn’t miss Yoongi trudging in.

“Oh?” Yoongi’s surprised to find Jimin still awake. Jimin’s surprised of the physical state Yoongi is in. His hair is messy, his clothes are messy, his buttons are all wrong, he’s got something at his jaw—

Oh.

“Fun night?” Jimin quips. Yoongi just closes his mouth and gives him a grin. When Jimin passes by Yoongi’s room he catches a faint hum of melody. He doesn’t fall asleep until six in the morning, and sleeps for fourteen hours straight.

When Jin joins the army, Yoongi enters with him. Bangtan holds another concert before Hoseok and Namjoon eventually enlists and Bangtan disbands. Bighit immediately offers contracts as solo performers, or solo projects and only Namjoon signs. Jungkook unexpectedly lands a major role in an english movie of a big production. Jin says he wants to open a restaurant some day, if he can, but he’s going to travel the fucking world first, and goes on a solo trip.

Jimin, somehow, ends up touring with Taehyung, under a new label. They introduce themselves as XCV now, which is basically 95 in roman numerals, but fans and the public always puts it across that they’ll always be (their) bangtan’s jimin and v. Jimin’s ok with that, as long as he doesn’t stay stagnant, as long as people take their new sound seriously. It’s a bit experimental, steering into alternative, a blend of lofi hiphop, and electropop. It’s also entirely different from what bangtan used to be and Jimin has always embraced change.

They enlist together and finish their service together, and then go back to their apartments of a five minute walking distance and work on another album. They’re doing fine; not as explosive as bangtan used to be, but they’ve got a strong loyal fanbase and that’s all Jimin ever needs. Another year goes by, and Jungkook is one of the most sought after asian actor in the western entertainment industry. Jin opens a small restaurant coincidentally two streets down from where they live. Hoseok becomes a familiar face on variety television and Namjoon writes and produces for a new boy group under bighit.

The only person Jimin lost contact with is Yoongi but Taehyung still talks to him, and Jimin is still updated about his life so he doesn’t see much of a point in reaching out. Although if he had the opportunity he’d ask Yoongi why he didn’t pursue his solo career longer. His first solo album released since leaving bighit topped every chart and all his fifteen shows in Korea were sold out within minutes.

But maybe Jimin doesn’t need an answer to his question because Taehyung informs him that Yoongi hyung is getting married in September. Did you change your number again? He told me he can’t reach you.

And even though Taehyung never asks Jimin (probably doesn’t need to), he always have this look and tone whenever he mentions Yoongi. Frankly, Jimin wouldn’t have the answers to Taehyung’s questions anyway. He’s been asking himself for years and still comes up short.

Yoongi catches Jimin after one of their shows, hair the colour of midnight, eyes the shade of coffee. He even smells the same – minty and sweet. He looks young like this, the colour of his cheeks not hidden by layers of foundation. He removes his hands from the pockets of his oversized hoodie and engulfs Jimin in a bear hug. Jimin lets himself be tucked into arms and a warm embrace. It kind of feels like a dream.

Are you avoiding me, you punk. Yoongi jokes, but Jimin sees the look in his eyes, knows there are true doubts in his words. But Jimin is a master at games and he falls right back into the version of Park Jimin Yoongi remembers him of.

When Yoongi brings up his wedding, Jimin stops listening. When he asks him to be his best man, Jimin doesn’t know how to respond. He looks about for Taehyung but doesn’t even find his shadow.

Yoongi looks cautious, but hopeful and Jimin wonders why this is even important to him? Why him? Get Namjoon instead, or Hoseok. He wants to yell that, but instead when Yoongi calls out to him again, with a Ji? and Jimin agrees.

Bangtan reunites once again at Yoongi’s wedding and Ji-en wants the rapline to perform all of cyphers but Yoongi laughs and says no, it’s embarrassing. All the other six of them are seated at the same table and Jimin takes matter to his own hand and starts chanting cypher, cypher, cypher. Almost immediately the whole room turns into a session of a cult meeting and chants along. They do perform cypher, but just part two and the everyone loses their shit. Yoongi’s grin is blinding, and the energy is infectious. He can see how much Yoongi misses the stage. Jimin lets himself reminiscence and miss the older days.

He makes eye contact with Ji-en by accident and she smiles warmly at him, mouths thank you and honestly, he can see why Yoongi likes her. He’s happy Yoongi is happy.

One and a half year later Jimin ties the knot, unexpectedly with one of Ji-en’s good friends – Hei. She’s bubbly and full of light, crinkles her nose when she grins and somehow always manages to talk Jimin out of his obstination. Everyone from bangtan is present once more, and seated at the same table. Taehyung is Jimin’s best man instead of Yoongi, not out of spite, but purely because Taehyung really is Jimin’s best man. If Taehyung didn’t crash at his house that one night in June years ago, then they wouldn’t have messed around with Taehyung’s Push Ableton 2, and XCV would have never happened. Jimin might have turned out a miserable sad prick.

One by one, they settle down, though not necessarily with weddings, but they form a family of their own, and they still exist in one another’s lives. Jimin and Taehyung remain as neighbours and Taehyung gets more invested in Jimin’s children birthday bashes than he does.

He has twins, a girl and a boy and they’ve got their mother’s eyes but his smile. And Jimin truly does feel blessed. It’s been a long time coming, but he’s still glad he eventually found peace.

For a different ending, try D.

D.

Jimin likes teasing Yoongi. Jimin genuinely finds it entertaining when Yoongi looks at him pointedly in response, or throws a deadpan expression. It doesn’t even bother him when Yoongi curses at him colourfully, or worse, ignores him entirely. Jimin is never fazed. He doesn’t stop. Because there are times when Yoongi would crack up over Jimin’s jokes or agree with his opinions or warns him to stop it or hyung will get mad, but in such a tender tone that only makes Jimin stops because he’s still not used to a tender or soft Min Yoongi.

He always reacts better with averse reactions or negative responses because that’s what he’s used to. But Jimin always liked it when Yoongi shows a different side to him. Makes him feels special.

That’s how they are – teasing, sometimes even taunting, challenging. Sometimes they play a dangerous game but Yoongi never says anything so neither does Jimin. Sometimes Jimin wonders if they would fit better had they not been famous? Two mates off college, pulled together by mutual attraction (regardless platonic or romantic), how different would things be? But Jimin never dwells. Can’t really afford to.

Yoongi makes a new friend when he works on his second mixtape. She’s attractive and different, as ambitious and passionate as Yoongi. She’s funny and artistic, she’s goofy and dorky and equally sardonic. She always snickers at Namjoon’s sarcastic remarks. She has tattoos littering all over her body but she has the kindest eyes and a genuine smile. It’s a bonus her smile is pretty too.

Jimin sees the way Yoongi looks at her. It’s probably the same way Jimin looks at him.

Their dynamics don’t change despite Yoongi’s new secret relationship. In fact, he amps up the fanservice factor even more. Jimin’s glad he isn’t the only one on Yoongi’s list.

They remain strong even when the netizens eventually find out and bash her, even when Yoongi enlists. They’re probably the strongest after Bangtan disbands.

Yoongi invites everyone to his wedding and he has six best men because it’s his big day and who the fuck says you can only have one? Although Yoongi confesses drunkenly later on (as Jimin lugs him to the toilet) that if he could only pick one best man, it’d be you Jimin. You’re special you know that right? And well, Jimin can’t say he does.

Taehyung asks him if he wants to form a duo together and produce their own music. Something entirely different from bangtan, something entirely from us. And they’ve got connections, they could always make it work if they do produce some good tracks. And Jimin feels an excitement underneath his skin – something he had forgotten the feeling of, and agrees. They go straight into production the very same day. XCV is born in a matter of hours. They do really well within the first year.

Taehyung introduces him to someone, Haneul, and Jimin hates to admit but they hit off really well. She’s witty and snarky but extremely sweet if she wants to be. Jimin finishes a love song in two hours. He proposes in Autumn during a vacation in Europe. She says yes. They tie the knot six months later. He chooses Yoongi as his best man, for some reason. And Yoongi gets it. He’s touched and thankful. Jimin was afraid Taehyung would’ve minded, but seeing how he’s equally preoccupied with Jungkook as Jungkook is with him, Jimin knows Taehyung’s not bothered.

Jungkook and Yoongi seriously sets up a lamb skewer business, and it doesn’t flop, Jimin jokes (it does surprisingly well actually). Jin comes up with half the things on the menu and several years down the road they branch out overseas.

Jimin and Haneul has one kid, a girl, Dani, but she’s not lonely because she has Miles to play with – Jungkook and Taehyung’s adopted child, who’s a mixed blood of japanese and british.

Yoongi teaches Dani how to play the piano, and Jimin teaches Yoongi’s son, Sujim, how to dance.

The seven of them, no matter how busy, always finds the time and takes turn to host a gathering on the 13th of June every year.

For a different ending, try E.

E.

If you feel like you’re going to crash, then accelerate more you idiot – Yoongi’s voice is like a mantra ringing in his head every time Jimin feels bleakness creeping through his skin, the weight of the world on his shoulders. So he pushes himself more, pushes himself to the extreme because he didn’t come all the way from Busan and sacrificed almost everything to end up a weakling. He wanted this, to be a singer and now he is, so sing he shall and dance he shall, and entertain he must.

And even though his mind could still run thousand miles, his body can’t move another inch and he crashes on the floor in the middle of a recording session.

When he peers open his eyes again he’s back in their shared apartment, but he’s not on his bed, because the sheets are navy and his is white. There is a mini bolster tucked at the side of his neck and the blanket is thicker than his own. The pillow smells like mint and cranberries – a lot like Yoongi.

The room is dark, but Jimin can still make out the outlines of a desk and a keyboard on the other side, evening skies just a shy away from cobalt blue. The door is ajar, and light from the hallway streams in. He hears sizzling in the distance and soft whistling. Jimin blinks blearily and turns to his side, faces the wall. He lets slumber claim him once more.

Yoongi shakes him and he wakes up, disoriented and hazy. “You need to eat Ji. I made soup.” Yoongi’s voice sounds like the faraway dream Jimin was trying to grasp. He lets himself be manhandled by the older and shuffles his way through to the dining table. Yoongi sits him on a chair and Jimin plops down, eyelids droopy.

It smells good, the sweetness of carrots and corns wafting in the air and Jimin’s mouth water slightly, but he rather just go back to bed. “You need to eat something before taking the pills.” Yoongi says quietly and gestures at the white and yellow tabs sitting neatly on the table beside a glass of water. The bowl of soup stares invitingly at Jimin and all he has to do is pick up the spoon and drink, but his hand and head is so heavy, fuck.

“Can you feed me hyung.” Jimin croaks out. He usually hates being mothered, feeling like a total baby and usually does the mothering instead, but his chest is tight and he’s begun to feel coldcoldcold so fuck that. Beside it’s Yoongi, not Jin, or Tae. He might very well be on his deathbed and his hyung could still be as incapable emotionally.

Jimin has resigned and closed his eyes, but he can still feel Yoongi’s stare on him. He hears metal against glass and a soft laugh. “Do you need the aeroplane too?” Yoongi mocks. Jimin ignores and just opens his mouth. The smell of chicken stock hits his nose and liquid fills his mouth. Tastes really good, the blend of carrots and corn mixes well with the chicken stock. But it’s also scalding as fuck so Jimin coughs harshly and spits some out. He spits it on his shirt and Yoongi’s hand.

“Aish this kid,” Yoongi mumbles and stands up, slaps against Jimin’s back until he stops coughing his lungs out. He tosses the spoon in the bowl and gets Jimin to drink some water.

“Sorry,” Jimin says sheepishly. He rubs his eyes. Yoongi sits back down and stirs the soup, blowing at a new spoonful. Jimin feels heat radiating off Yoongi. He doesn’t respond, not until Jimin finishes half the bowl.

“Damn right you should be sorry,” Yoongi cuts himself off, starts then pauses, his eyebrows pinched. Jimin doesn’t think they’re talking about the same thing. Or maybe he is. Maybe he spent hours boiling the soup and a spoonful spilled was absolutely uncalled for. Jimin bites back a laugh. He’s self entertaining at the worst time right now.

“I don’t, I seriously don’t,” Yoongi tries again, but words seem to fail him. He scoops at the bowl with more force than necessary. Jimin reaches out for the spoon but Yoongi knocks it away with his elbow. The soup sloshes dangerously around the rim of the spoon. So Jimin leans closer and drinks it diligently.

“Just don’t ever do that again. Don’t fucking exhaust yourself like that again. What happened to hyung, don’t over exert yourself? Stop sleeping so late working in the studio. There will always be work to do.” Yoongi imitates Jimin’s voice by going two octaves higher. Jimin wants to argue that’s not how his voice sounds. He doesn’t get to, because another spoonful gets shoved into his mouth. He chews on the corns and lets Yoongi berates him. His words are harsh and choppy, but Jimin’s never felt warmer. It’s weird, seeing Yoongi so worked up this way. Maybe he really thought he was going to die. Again, bad timing with self entertainment. He lets out a small snort though. Yoongi just glances at him, eyes narrowed and tells him to take the pills.

Do you want more, Yoongi asks, his knuckles going white around the spoon in his hand. He rest both palms on his thighs. Jimin contemplates. “I’m hungry but I’m also tired.” Yoongi sets the spoon in the empty bowl. “Rest then, I’ll heat it up when you wake up later.” He pulls out three tissues and passes two to Jimin and wipes the table with the other one.

Jimin chews on his bottom lip. “Hyung can you carry me.” Yoongi crumples the tissues and tosses it in the bowl. He lets out a sigh. Jimin gets ready on his feet instead.

But Yoongi gets up and squats in front of Jimin, back facing him. Jimin frowns. Yoongi peers around, “You waiting for a grand invitation?” and points at his back with his thumb. Oh.

Jimin gets on his back, slides his hands around Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi presses firmly on his legs. Jimin lets his head melt in the scent of Yoongi. Yoongi gets up easily but he pads to the rooms slowly. Jimin clings on his neck tighter. Presses himself against Yoongi as much as he can. Tries to imprint this memory to his brain forever.

“Thanks Yoongi.” Jimin murmurs. Yoongi’s hoodie muffles his voice but he hears him fine, because Yoongi replies immediately, “Yoongi eh? I should just drop you right now.” But there’s a playful lilt in his voice. Jimin corrects himself and repeats, “Thanks Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi laughs. Jimin knows he secretly likes it when he calls him just by his name. It’s ok, your secret is safe with me.

They pass by the first room and Jimin’s time is almost up. Jimin clings tighter. If Yoongi notices he doesn’t say. Jimin pulls at the hoodie until he sees skin and breathes gently against Yoongi’s nape. Yoongi hoists him up lightly. Jimin lies on his left cheek and starts, “Hyung, I—”

And he’s so warm right now, so comfortable. He head feels light. And he’s not exactly sure what he wants to say but he has to say something—

“I know Jimin, I know.” Yoongi pats at his thigh lightly. Jimin wants to say no hyung, you don’t. He drifts off to slumber instead. He tries to tell Yoongi in his dream. No words come out.

Jimin wakes up in his room, twelve hours later and finds himself alone in the apartment. They’re free of schedule this week but everyone’s out somewhere and Jimin makes his way to the kitchen. Sees a post-it note on his cup. Jimin heats up the soup and finishes three bowls. Smiles to himself.

Everything else continues in D.

For a different ending, try F.

F.

When Yoongi first meets Ji-en, it’s outside a club and by no means anything out of a romantic love story. He takes another drag of his cigarette and watches as the smoke dances and dissipates in the air. He watches, with lidded eyes and ringing ears, the girl with splotches of black ink littered on her skin, with lips red like sin and eyes full of secrets slowly walking towards him.

“Sorry, can I borrow a light?” She smiles, dimples showing. Yoongi’s head swims in an alcohol daze. He whips his lighter out and ignites a flame for her, and she looks surprised at the gesture, but leans in nevertheless. The cigarette lights up, orange ambers burning at the tip. She pats his knuckles once in thanks, and breathes out fumes with her head tilted back, neck exposed. Yoongi is transfixed.

“Thanks.” She says anyway, her voice low and husky. Yoongi’s never been fond of squeaky, silvery voices anyway. Yoongi shrugs in response, but lets a playful grin hang on his lips.

They smoke in silence, side by side, basked in the moment, the lull of pumping bass a far distant in the background.

Yoongi is surprised when they cross paths again, years later and almost chokes on his spit when she asks him if he’s still got a light to spare. He passes it over this time. She reaches and grins, “Haven’t quit yet either?”

Yoongi learns about her favourite drink (chinese tea), the stories behind each art on her skin, and the ones she put on others. She learns of the different ways Yoongi is silent, and the things that keep him up at night. They fall in love with the way their eyes light up when they talk about music.

They marry when Yoongi is 31 and Ji-en is 29. They have three kids and much to both of their chagrin, none of them are interested in the artistic route. Yoongi shares the stories he knows by heart on his wife’s skin to his children, and Ji-en teaches them how to sing to their father’s talented creations of melodies and beats.

For a different ending, try G.

G.

Yoongi gets jarred up by the shit of a buzzer noise that cuts through the apartment. He feels his heart at his throat and almost falls off his bed and curses when he realizes what’s going on. He regulates his breathing and buries deeper in his blanket and throws a bolster over his ears. Sorts of drowns out the annoying buzz. Doesn’t help much though. The phone rings and Yoongi ignores. Eventually the voicemail comes on and Namjoon’s voice filter through after the beep.

“Ah hyung, please open the door. I’m sorry I forgotten my keys but I swore I put in my bag this morning!” Namjoon says, his words coming out like bullets. Yoongi sense desperation but he is still pissed. This isn’t the first time – hell, this happens all the time. Yes it’s four in the afternoon and he should be awake and be a useful person like everyone else but Yoongi can argue that he’s equally useful when he’s awake at night.

“Please don’t make me walk all the way to Junho’s house, my bladder is going to burst. Hyung!” Namjoon cries.

Then fucking pee in the bushes, like Yoongi gives a fuck. He hates being woken up by shock. Hates. It’s bad for the heart. He’s twenty-two now for christ sake.

But Namjoon is relentless and Yoongi can’t go back to sleep with him hollering every other second so he gets up and unlocks the door, glares angrily at the younger who thanks him profusely and dashes to the toilet. He returns to his bed and drifts to slumber shortly, dreaming of sold out arenas and screaming fans. Dreams of accomplishing big things with six other faceless members. He wakes up to the skies as dark as his mind and no sight of Namjoon. Empties another packet of ramyeon and cooks it in a sleepy daze. His phone pings and he’s notified of another follower on Soundcloud. Three more comments on his latest release – sick bro, love it, don’t stop putting out beats. Yoongi tosses his phone aside.

Slurps on his noodles noisily and watches bad tv. Some days Yoongi is busy, with shows to do and thoughts to translate to ink. Most days Yoongi has become lazy, a drag of the day routinized. The fire in his eyes and the drive in his blood, lost. Namjoon is doing well though, that much he’s glad of.

But that doesn’t excuse Namjoon for missing out on movie nights twice in a row. He’s been out a lot and barely at home. Yoongi is disappointed and sulky and contemplates if he should go ahead with the movie on his own. Namjoon always waits for him when he gets busy though. So fine, he’ll wait, but only for one more week. So he browses through the tv absentmindedly, and stops abruptly when he sees a boy with a silvery laugh and a voice like an angel when he sings. He watches with only the tv screen illuminating off light and keeps watching even when the encore plays.

Park Jimin. 20. Lead singer of the kpop trio group Victory. A cheesy name if you’d asked Yoongi. There’s another boy, Taehoon? or Taehyung, and he looks like a freaking anime character brought to life, with godly features of a perfectly sculpted face, but it’s still Jimin who catches Yoongi’s eyes. The oldest in the group, just by a year, Hoseok, is definitely one of the best dancers Yoongi’s ever seen – and he’s seen a lot – but it’s still Jimin that gets him transfixed to the screen when he moves.

He spends the rest of the night searching up videos of Victory and plays all their tracks on repeat for the entire week. Yoongi finishes three tracks all with Jimin’s voice in his head as he writes the beats. Yoongi raps in a particular one too. Falls asleep thinking how their voices would sound like together.

Namjoon finally returns home two weeks later, after Yoongi sees his face being plastered everywhere on the streets of Korea next to another handsome face he recognizes, but forgets the name of. Yoongi jokes that Namjoon’s next level now and doesn’t need this shit of a flat mate anymore. Never! Namjoon exclaims, wounded that Yoongi would even think such things. RM becomes a name everyone recognizes and is basically King status in the underground scene but Namjoon is still as humble. Suga copes.

“You know Jungkook really likes your raps too hyung. He’s always asking me about you.” Namjoon mentions it one day when they’re packing their apartment. Yoongi wonders why Namjoon doesn’t want to upgrade to something better with all the greens and cheques rolling into his bank.

“Is it.” Yoongi replies. He doesn’t really know what to say. Maybe it’s an artiste integrity thing but in Yoongi’s books, it’s almost unheard of, an underground rapper mixing with the mainstream. But Jungkook is different, Namjoon defends. Sure he is, if you’ve been collaborating with him so many times now. But Yoongi is fiercely stubborn as he is talented and Namjoon gives up trying to persuade his hyung to look the other way.

Namjoon tells Yoongi he’s moving out one day and Yoongi can’t say he didn’t see it coming. He’s glad. He’s surprised Namjoon kept it at this shithole this long with him. Maybe he didn’t want Yoongi to think he’s abandoning him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Namjoon offers Yoongi to move in with him. He’ll love it. There’s a big pool, a gym room and a mini theater room so hyung, we’ll never miss movie nights again.

Yoongi declines, says that he never thought he’d ever be but he’s come to be very attached of this place. But he’ll come visit, for sure – no one will ever say no to a house with a big pool. It’s a lie though. He knows he’s probably not going to visit and that their lives are going to be very different the moment Namjoon steps out of the apartment. He doesn’t say he feels ashamed to be standing next to Namjoon because you’re soaring and I’m just trying not to drown.

Yoongi’s ego will be the death of him some day, maybe.

Namjoon tries again, after giving him a tight hug and asks, “There’s seriously nobody you’d like to work with?”  And Yoongi knows, that Namjoon would be able to pull some strings and conjure something out if Yoongi says the name. He knows Namjoon would help in a heartbeat.

But he doesn’t need help. He just needs himself. Yoongi thinks of the boy with a blinding grin and crescent eyes and a voice like angel when he sings. Thinks of the piled up tracks he’s produced with beats and melodies and no vocals to accompany with. Thinks and wonders but he shrugs and says, “Nah. Maybe one day.”

Everything else continues in F.

For a different ending, try H.

H.

Jimin leans in closer than necessary and Yoongi ignores how his shoulder brushes against his. He points at something on the screen and Taehyung, standing over Jimin’s shoulder nods in agreement. Jimin whips his head to the left and Yoongi gets a nose full of Jimin’s hair and citrus scent. Jimin looks at Jungkook expectantly and the younger starts air drumming, eyes zoned to the left. Yeah I could add more snare to the drums, he says. Seonmi says she’ll stick with the current bass arrangement though, too much could drown everything else out.

Ji-en suggests this time, instead of Jungkook and Jimin’s harmony it could be Jimin and Yoongi. Yoongi could rap and Jimin would echo in melody. Jimin grins, agreeing. He says he likes it, he likes how their voice meshes well. Yoongi doesn’t linger too long at the lead singer of Noise Club. He does some cuts and adjustments on protools and nods contentedly, we’ll wrap it up like this today. We can go straight to re-recording tomorrow. Yoongi says. Everyone starts packing up. Jimin stays rooted to his seat. Reaches out for Yoongi’s mouse and swats his hand away.

Taehyung calls out for Jimin at the doorway but he tells him he’ll catch up later. Yoongi wants to ask him since when did Yoongi allow him to extend his stay at his flat? But it’s become a habit, for Jimin to stay longer than his bandmates with Yoongi doing absolutely nothing or anything. It’s become a habit for Yoongi to arrive earlier, to spend time with Jimin, at rehearsals or live shows that they’re performing together over same events or collaborated tracks. Fans start synomying Noise Club with Suga and each collaboration soon after teased is met with impatient anticipation. Fans love their style so much they go on a tour together.

Sometimes Jimin sleeps over at Yoongi’s tour bus, and sometimes Yoongi sleeps over at Jimin’s hotel. Jimin teases and disturbs his Yoongi hyung, and Yoongi would either ignore him or pretend he’s irritated but anyone with a pair of eyes could tell Yoongi secretly enjoys it.

The crowd loses their shit when Yoongi does a special stage on one of his songs, Tony Montana, from his earliest mixtape – Agust D – and gets Jimin to rap and sing the second verse. They demand for the release of a studio version. Yoongi asks Jimin if he’s interested and he says yes in a heartbeat.

But somewhere along the daze of sold out arenas and screaming fans, over the high of performing on stage with the beats you created blaring out on speakers, and the words you bled like a mantra hung over thousand of lips, there’s a shift in dynamics. It starts getting harder to be around Jimin, and his smile starts to suffocate Yoongi. He doesn’t understand the wrench in his chest so he tries to ignore it. But when Jimin throws that smile Yoongi thinks was reserved just for him towards just anybody, he can’t ignore the pinch in his heart. And he misses the way the light behind Jimin’s eyes die every time Yoongi comes up with an excuse to keep his distance.

He asks Ji-en out one Saturday night because she makes her interest known. Yoongi knows it’s shit of him to do this, taking the expense of one’s heart to spite another, and he’s not sure what to expect from Jimin, but he doesn’t expect this. Doesn’t expect that he ends up dating Seonmi two weeks later. They never record the studio version of Tony Montana. Fans never waver their hopes though. But Yoongi knows the taste of regrets and disappointments too well.

After a while, Suga and Noise Club stop putting tracks out altogether.

For a different ending, try I.

I.

When Yoongi first sees Park Jimin he thinks he’s dangerous. Dangerous because his presence is loud, like the whirl of wheels ablaze on asphalt ground. Dangerous because his presence is intoxicating, the sweet taste of alcohol after it burns your throat. His gaze is sharp and sometimes they taunt, when brown orbs meet black ones. Yoongi is always the first to look away. His lips, when he swipes his tongue over and the sheen of saliva coating – they scream of sin.

Mostly Jimin is dangerous because Yoongi doesn’t like the way he makes him feel. The way his breath gets knocked out of his lungs when Yoongi chances upon him at the curve in the campus hallway. When he sees Jimin and Yoongi feels like the burst of colours of spring flowers blooming, or the electricity in the spring air that fires his skin and warms his blood. He sees Jimin and he is tempted, he wants to know everything about him and at the same time nothing. He keeps clear and stays away.

Yoongi does wonder though, what major Jimin is in. Their art school is a relatively small one since it’s private, and exclusively hard to enter. He’s been sieving through all the majors in his head and pinning a plausible one on Jimin but everything seems to fall off short. Definitely not an art major – Yoongi can’t picture Jimin sitting quietly, painting for hours. Or maybe he is, and the only time he’s not setting Yoongi’s heart ablaze is when he is peaceful and painting. Perhaps a fashion major? He’s got a pretty decent style, although sometimes too striking for Yoongi’s liking. Who wears a sequin jacket to school, or anywhere else for the matter? It’s in all three primary colours too, oh lord save his eyes. Annoyingly, Jimin pulls it off. Music major? But Yoongi rarely sees Jimin at his side of the campus. But Yoongi can picture very clearly, Jimin on stage, with a mic and the crowd going wild. And it’s not already too different from how people react around him in campus.

Yoongi thinks Jimin is obnoxious sometimes, the way he presents himself. How he lets his leather jacket hang on his shoulder (uselessly) as he walks around with an attitude in his steps. As if he doesn't know the attention he gets, the heads he turns and gazes that look twice. Yoongi knows his type, sees it coming from a mile and plays the game he knows too well. He never gives his attention to Jimin. Always ignores him. Pointedly so. Probably so much that the other thinks it's absurd someone isn't fallible to his charms and that doesn't sit well with him. So charm him, Jimin will. Though Jimin doesn't know that Yoongi's been entranced since day one, since the first time he ever set his eyes on the ginger. Yoongi isn't surprised to see Jimin more often than not in the hallways in campus. It is, after all a public space.  

Yoongi is however, stunned, to find Park Jimin getting ready for the same showcase he is scheduled to do. Yoongi corners Seokjin, the main event organizer he’s become cordial with, and pulls him aside.

“Isn’t this an underground showcase? For creative arts and shit?” Yoongi still has his hands curled in Jin’s collar. Jin is least perturbed. He looks amused, as his brows draw back.

“Yes? It’s a H1GHERLFE mid-year showcase. A showcase on talents of all sorts. Yoongi this is your third year, were you living in blind oblivion until now?” Jin says and gently uncurls Yoongi’s fingers. Pats on his shirt lightly. Cocks his head to the side at a flustering Yoongi.

“Oh. I thought only rappers were involved.” Yoongi says dumbly. Jin sighs dramatically. “Anyone can be involved. But this year we added a new segment if you’re wondering.”

Yoongi waits in response but when Jin doesn’t take his cue to answer he shoots out an impatient what.

“Oh, dancing.” Jin says, as Yoongi turns his attention to the ginger who’s probably on an attempt to break every bone in his body, with all the angles he’s contorting into.

But Yoongi can’t stand and watch even if he wanted to. He’s the opening act and he needs to get ready.

Yoongi is never one to vye for attention but he loves the stage. He loves it when he gets up, rubber soles against wooden floor and the buzzing anticipation from the crowd. When the lights dim and the spotlight hits him, hovering above as he swaggers about. When the music plays, bass blaring loud on the speakers, with the kick of the drum, the beat of the hihat – the groove that pulls Yoongi in. When he spits words out and picks up pace, the breath he huffs out and the crowd rocks along with him. When he gets high from adrenalin coursing through him. All he can feel is the music within him, which spills through his voice and he feels like he’s got the world in his hands. Yoongi gives it his all, never runs out of energy even till the last line, and he catches a head of orange when the lights strobe around.

Jimin stares at him, expression unreadable but there’s a small grin on his face. Yoongi’s heart hammers against his chest when they lock eyes and even when the lights fade and it goes black, the hammering doesn’t stop.

When Yoongi joins back the crowd there are massive cheers once again and different groups shove and push to get a word with him. Yoongi’s always flattered of the attention and honoured for the support but he’s never one who dwells in ego. He gives his thanks and stealthily walks away when the next performer comes on, and heads straight for the refreshment table much further at the back.

Yoongi’s contemplating between fruit punch or lemon tea when an unfamiliar voice behind starts him.

“Never knew you could rap like that.” Oddly, Yoongi doesn’t need to turn to know who it is. He could always feel Jimin’s presence. Sometimes it’s cold, and cutting, like frost in November’s wind. Sometimes it roars, burns but doesn’t hurt, like a summer’s dream. Kind of like now.

Yoongi opts for the fruit punch. Offers Jimin a cup. He takes it. Yoongi doesn’t miss the way his brows arch and his lips quirk into a grin. Jimin sips on the fruit punch. Yoongi does likewise. They play pretend, eyes roving about everywhere but each other. Stealing glances and hiding grins. Yoongi feels his heart about to explode with the tension in the air. He’s never pegged Jimin as one to have a shy streak. Is he being shy right now? With Yoongi? Fuck.

“So was it good or bad?” Yoongi finally speaks, suddenly remembering Jimin’s earlier statement. He slurs his words, schools his emotions, hangs feigned nonchalance in his deliberate played out stance. Leans against the table, tucks a hand across his stomach behind his elbow.

Jimin throws a smug look in his direction. Cocks his head to the side. “Not bad.” He shrugs. Yoongi laughs. He laughs because it’s fucking funny, because Yoongi knows where his standards are and though he’s yet to reach his ideal he knows he’s good. Knows he's fucking good actually. Maybe Jimin can rap better. Now he’s intrigued. When he looks back at Jimin, he’s got a smirk on and taunt in his eyes. Yoongi bites back a verbal taunt, but conveys the message regardless with his eyes. His black orbs, they dance wildly.

Jimin finishes the drink, tilts his head all the way back exposing his neck. Yoongi swallows. Jimin lowers his head, crushes the cup and tosses it in the trash bag hung precariously over the edge of the table. Stuffs both hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

“I’m going up next. Stay and watch mine.” Jimin says. Doesn’t ask. Wants Yoongi to. Guess he doesn’t really have a choice. Frankly, Yoongi’s been waiting for Jimin to perform, dying to know what he’s got. Almost pulled Seokjin aside again for the schedule list. But Yoongi doesn’t like to show he’s eager, doesn’t like showing a vulnerable side. So he nods and shrugs. Switches his foot so that now his left foot is over his right. Definitely redundant. Just needed to look cool. And uneager.

Then Jimin does something that throws Yoongi entirely off balance. He smiles. He smiles, genuinely, eyes growing crescent and his lips pull into a beautiful grin. Dimples show. Yoongi wonders how he’s never saw that before. Feels warmth spreading in his chest and his mouth going dry. Knows he’s entirely fucked.

He watches Jimin’s performance in a daze, feeling extremely in awe with the way his body moves so gracefully. Like a current flowing through as he pops limbs, drops, spins, thrusts. He could watch Jimin dance forever. But Yoongi also feels frustrated, when Jimin drops low or bites his lips when he rolls his hips. Almost feels like a jab of mockery in his direction. The crowd cheers and hoots and he sees the way how some girls and guys look at Jimin (the same way Yoongi stares at him), like they want to devour him, and Yoongi feels jealousy wash over.

When Jimin comes back down, back into the crowd, he returns in a fresh white T shirt. With his cheeks still tinted red and his fringe still matted to his forehead. And heads turn when he walks but all Jimin sees is Yoongi and he smiles at him. Walks right up to him and asks, “Was it good or bad?” Playful eyes find distracted ones.

“Not bad.” Yoongi shrugs. Tries to bite it back down but a smirk still tugs at his lips. Jimin snorts. And Yoongi knows, he can’t stay away. Even if he wanted to. But that’s the deal, Yoongi doesn’t want to, not anymore. Knows that even if he tries Jimin will still find a way to worm his way under his skin. So instead of fighting it, he lets it be.

And it’s not before long Yoongi learns the different ways Jimin smiles, when he’s tired, excited, moody or truly happy. And Jimin takes a peek in Yoongi’s mind when he reads the lyrics he has penned. Yoongi learns that besides the fact that Jimin is an amazing dancer, he also sings like a fucking angel. Jimin never ceases to amaze him, with the way he thinks and speaks, when he gets ridiculously cute or competitive and cocky. He sees all the different sides of Jimin and still wants to know more. They run the world together like a storm blazing through, and Yoongi wonders if loving Jimin is a limitless thing.

Yoongi’s never felt this way before, for anyone. It feels like a dream sometimes, hazy, the best kind of high no other drug could compare. It scares him shitless. So some days, he gets in a bad mood, gets pissy and snappy at anything and everything Jimin does. His blood is thrumming in his veins, itching, aching for a fight. And Jimin, much to Yoongi’s surprise and chagrin, tolerates him well. Tries to give in, tries to be a better boyfriend, tries to be understanding. But Yoongi doesn’t want that. He wants raised voices and slammed doors. He wants punches and shoves and words that cut deep and sting for days. He self-sabotages, that’s what he always does.

Eventually Jimin snaps, and all Yoongi needs is one time to know the buttons he will need to push for a next time. And when they fight it’s ugly. It’s more than just harsh words that would ring in your ears for days, it’s also the bruises and cuts that reminds you of so. Things get broken and smashed. Fists get bloody and bruised. Eyes get swollen and black, lips are nasty with cuts. Sometimes Yoongi think they burn too bright. That one day they might burn each other out.

But it becomes a habit – after they fight, they fuck. It’s hot and messy and still as fucking good as any other time. It’s aggressive and rough and maybe that’s how they love. It’s Jimin screaming Yoongi’s name his throat going hoarse or Yoongi clawing at Jimin’s back he knows angry red marks are going to stain. And after they’re spent, after they’re done riding out their orgasms they stay in a quiet embrace amidst chaos around them. Someone always laughs first, and the other follows. Laughs because they’re stupid fucks – they’re never getting away from the other. They can’t. They can’t stay away. They’re fucking made for each other, they complement and they fit. Maybe that’s why they’ve been apart for so long. The world wouldn’t be able to handle them together from the start, with the fire they ignite.

“I love you.” Yoongi breathes. Presses his forehead against Jimin’s. Hovers above him, their legs remain in a tangled mess. Presses himself closer, his palms digging against the carpeted floor. Their noses touch and Yoongi breathes in the scent of Jimin: sex, musk and citrus. He craves for more.

Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, and feels hands snaking from his hips to his waist, up his sides and rubs at his shoulders. They eventually settle at his neck, thumbs circling his collarbones, presses into it. Yoongi’s knees grow weak. It grows more insistent, the pressure, and Yoongi lets himself be pushed up. He peers open his eyes and Jimin’s staring at him, flecks of gold swirling in his brown orbs, his lips slightly parted. Yoongi feels his heart in his throat and tries his best to commit this to memory, grasps at it as hard as he can. Tries to stay afloat, but he still drowns in those eyes. It gets overwhelming, so Yoongi cracks a grin.

“What?”

“I want to see your face when I say it back.” Jimin says softly. Yoongi licks his lips nervously and swallows. Waits.

He takes in every detail of Jimin’s face, eyes roving about. The natural blush of his cheeks, the slope of his nose, his lips a shade darker – red and bruised from kissing. Fuck, he’d kiss him forever, if he could.

“I love you. I fucking love you, Min Yoongi.” Jimin says. And it feels crazy, the air between them both electrifying and hazy. Yoongi is lost, lost in Jimin, feels himself floating on cloud nine. Feels himself soaring so high. Finally fucking understands what it means when they say time stops. And Yoongi’s fine with being lost as long as Jimin is there beside him.

“I love you, so please, Yoongi. Please don’t run away from me, ever. Don’t push me away.” Jimin whispers. Because maybe, I can’t make you stay, if you do it again – Jimin’s eyes scream what he doesn’t say. And Yoongi listens. He promises. Stops being a coward and wants to start living properly. Can’t ever imagine a life without Jimin no matter how scared shitless he may be. Embraces the fear, because fear is only an illusion.

And maybe if Yoongi pushes Jimin once more, he won’t even try to make him stay. And what’s a world going to be like without Jimin? What’s he going to do when he’s got a proper taste of flawed perfection? He wants to respond, to say yesyesyes, to say I fucking understand Ji, so don’t you worry. He wants to say I need you, maybe more than you need me, he wants to tell him he had been scared and he shouldn’t be. He wants to say a lot of things but the words all die at his throat so he just nods, and leans in, pressing his lips against Jimin’s. Kisses him senseless until he forgets his own name.

Jimin wraps his legs around Yoongi’s torso and Yoongi buries his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck. Inhales deep. Places a hand on Jimin’s chest, feels his heart beat. They stay in the embrace for a while, lying on the carpeted floor, their even breathing and beating hearts the only calm amidst the chaos around them.

“We seriously need to stop throwing things around when we fight.” Jimin starts.

Yoongi laughs. “You need to stop throwing things at me when we fight.”

Jimin slaps Yoongi’s arm playfully. “Furniture is expensive.” He says simply.

“Furniture is expensive, yes.” Yoongi repeats.

Yoongi sticks to his words, and welcomes the future with open arms. Lets Jimin grounds him. Tells him all the time he is his lucky star. Jimin always laughs and disagrees, and says Yoongi is his lucky star. In August, as the leaves on the trees begin to yellow out and falls off Jimin moves in with Yoongi. They spend their first christmas together at home, exchanging gifts.

Their final year in college comes and hectic days sweep them off their feet. Before the school year ends Yoongi is fortunate to have clinch a job offer with a relief teacher who has a studio of his own. Yoongi is flattered to have someone see potential in him, even though he finds himself still lacking in many ways but he’s a hard worker with determination and fiery passion set in his bones. Jimin mass sends out a demo video to several studios for a choreographer position and they all respond back with an appointment date. They start buying new furniture and Yoongi starts piling up music gears in his study.

They rarely fight nowadays, always try to talk it out if things gets bad. But they still argue, a lot, but over trivial matters, like why are you always forgetting your keys Jimin, and hyung stop squeezing the toothpaste in the middle or I’m getting one by myself. Yoongi thinks he could get used to this, and they do. They save up and book a flight to Los Angeles for three weeks. They sleep for thirteen hours straight when they reach the hotel suite, fuck hard against the dresser table when they wake up, then call room service and order a feast right after.

Indulge themselves with holding hands and little small displays of affections in public along the streets of Las Vegas, feel the sun beaming brightly down at them with splitting grins on their faces. Taste an air of freedom in a city where their love can be screamed to the world for once. They marry on the spot, impromptu, when they pass by the famous a little white chapel. Yoongi in his bucket hat and an oversized black tee, and Jimin in a snapback, white v-neck with a flannel shirt. They can’t stop giggling as the ordained minister reads out the wedding ceremony script. When prompted to read their vows, they grow shy, hiding coy grins and shuffling their feet.

Yoongi’s got a paper clutched in his hands, black scrawlings all over but Yoongi realizes he doesn’t really need the paper, when he reads up halfway. All the things he has always wanted to say, his hopes, dreams, and fears he lays them all out and Jimin looks proper choked with emotions as he listens. And when Jimin says his vows his voice almost cracks at one line, but he holds himself together and finishes it. As much as Yoongi is a dense brick when it comes to expressing his emotions, he knows Jimin hates it more to show his vulnerable side. The minister moves on to the next phase and ask if they’ve prepared rings, and Jimin laughs sheepishly and shakes his head no but Yoongi nods and fishes for a small black box in his pocket.

He bought them nearly a year ago, on a whim, and then meant to gift Jimin for his birthday but two days before they got into a nasty fight and Yoongi hurled the box away angrily. He found it again couple months back, and decided to bring it along the trip. He never planned on anything as crazy as this but here they are, in a chapel getting fucking married to each other and he’s got the rings in his pocket so why the fuck not. Jimin looks like a cross between dropping to the ground or ruining Yoongi right there and then but neither happens as the minister gets them to repeat after him, and presents the rings to them.

They wear the rings for each other and the minister wraps up the ceremony with two important questions that has obvious answers. Yoongi wants to shout it at the top of the roof to let the whole world hear.

“Do you, Min Yoongi...” The minister starts and Yoongi stares at Jimin, in his brown eyes, their hands clasped tightly with each other. He feels the world spinning without them, for time is non-existent in the space before them.

“I do.” Yoongi breathes. His eyes are bright, like the stars that shine at midnight and he’s thrumming with energy bursting at his fingertips. His grin is ear-splitting and Jimin grins just as brightly back.

The minister repeats the question and Yoongi can see tears welling up in Jimin’s eyes (although he’ll deny later), beams back with an enthusiastic, “I do.”

The minister declares them husbands, and Yoongi leans in the same moment Jimin grabs his shirt and they kiss hastily, laughing as they do.

They celebrate their first anniversary the next year and wait for many more to come.

For a different ending, try J.

J.

Yoongi hates his job. He hates the stuffiness of his too cramped cubicle and the stale air from the aircon. He hates the monotony of the every day he lives and feels sorry that he’s let down his 18 year old self. Once bright, full of life and fervent for passion. Now he's 25, never amounted to anything and barely coping. He hates his job but he can't quit, because then he might need to move in with Old John on the streets, two blocks down his apartment. Probably doesn't sound like a bad idea.

What makes everything a little better, is the bespectacled boy across him, whose grin can literally brighten anyone’s fucking day. Bless his soul. He definitely has no idea the countless of time Yoongi wanted to throttle his superiors, and shitty dumb colleagues but that boy. He makes everything somehow better, brighter. Maybe he’s got good energy. Or maybe Yoongi’s cubicle has shit fengshui.

Their day usually goes like this: Taehyung, whose cubicle is beside his, separated only by a thin walkway (much to Yoongi’s chagrin), pesters him every morning. Talks about anything, or whatever happened over his weekends and blabbers nonsense. Basically useless information Yoongi doesn’t need but now has. Yoongi has long given up to tell the younger to shut the fuck up and even pointedly ignores him, but Taehyung remains unfazed.

During lunch they would meet with Hoseok and the two would squabble some more, with Yoongi listening beside or tailing behind, content with just keeping to himself. Returns back to the office and resumes his work.

He clears emails, check his sales figures, clears emails, work on sales pitches, clears emails, and regularly updates his sales reports so that he doesn’t suffer with overwhelming data when the month end nears.

He ends work at six but sometimes doesn’t leave the office until seven, and during busy periods he buys takeaway and leaves at nine. Life is a drag. He starts work the next day at nine and always has his mind already on Friday, anticipating impatiently for the weekends with open arms.

And as much as Taehyung is goofy and dumb at times, he is also perceptive and sharp. It’s not before long he catches on the little crush that Yoongi sports for that bespectacled boy with hair as red as sometimes his cheeks can go, and a grin that makes Yoongi’s heart soar and chest tight. Except it’s not a crush, because Yoongi doesn’t do crushes. Jimin probably just has good vibes and crazy infectious positive energy. That’s it, really. Yoongi definitely does not have random thoughts spring up to him about Jimin’s favourite songs or if he likes chocolates or flowers more, what the fu—

He doesn’t try to read Jimin’s behaviour or overanalyze every interaction he has with another male, trying to so hard to fit him into a spectrum. He doesn’t try to rack his brains wondering if Jimin is just naturally touchy, have zero sense of personal space or if he can find a gender besides the opposite attractive. He doesn’t try to compare what Jimin does to what he would do because on one hand although Yoongi is Not Straight, he is also an endangered species of the human population so he is a terrible example to gauge with.

And Yoongi, definitely, does not let his eyes wander and linger a beat longer than necessary on Park Jimin’s annoying plump pink lips. It’s frustratingly pink. The kind of pink that’s captivating and aesthetically pleasing, the kind that makes you wonder if it tastes as sweet as it fucking looks. Does he apply lip balm or something? Or lip tint? And how the fuck does Yoongi know the difference between the two? Yoongi definitely does not entertain thoughts of pinning Jimin to the wall every time he passes by the pantry, and sees the lone back view of a redhead making tea.

Taehyung makes life difficult for Yoongi by making inappropriate comments every time Jimin passes by. He tortures him further by putting words in Yoongi’s mouth with obscene compliments, when Jimin approaches Yoongi’s cubicle to cross check on sales figures or sales pitch. Since they don’t talk much outside work, Jimin is slightly awkward and flustered at first, but has since then warmed up and downright laughs at Taehyung’s comments as if it’s actually funny. It’s not before long Taehyung starts dragging Jimin along with them on breaks which he happily obliges. They start to form a camaraderie and Yoongi is left with nothing but second-hand embarrassment and a tarnished image.

Jimin doesn’t speak much to Yoongi besides professional exchange and Yoongi can’t say he’s disappointed, because this is not a crush. He’s not crushing on Park Jimin. He doesn’t care if Taehyung has now become his best friend forever, and that even Hoseok shares inside jokes with Jimin. He doesn’t care that he is probably the only one in their trio who doesn’t have Jimin’s number. And he doesn’t sulk, because he’s naturally quiet, and reserved. And just, doesn’t talk in general. Takes too much effort.

Their group somehow expands, and there’s now five of them sharing a table during lunch with the inclusion of Namjoon from the marketing department, alike Jimin. Yoongi definitely doesn’t think about how they share fond glances every time they exchange gazes, or how Jimin is extra clingy to Namjoon. He easily towers over Jimin and has a smooth low voice when he speaks. Maybe Jimin is into taller guys. Maybe Jimin thinks that’s manly. Maybe he wants to be coddled. Maybe that’s the reason why Yoongi straightens his back and puffs his chest a little.

Yoongi wants to hate Namjoon, wants to be cold, but he shouldn’t because that would only mean he’s jealous and if he’s jealous it means he has this thing called feelings and no, Yoongi has none. His heart is tiny and he only has space for his dog and music. And his family. There’s no more space for any Park Jimin.

But Yoongi can’t hate Namjoon because one day after work he gets dragged along by Seokjin (who has somehow suddenly joined their clan) to noraebang after dinner. Yoongi kind of wants to just drag himself home; it has been a long day and he just wants to shower and curl in bed. But he also kind of wants to go, because it’s been some time since he went and even longer since he held a mic. Too long, since he performed for cheering crowds. Too long, since he remembered the thrill of spitting words in a flow and rhythm and feeling it in his bones. Too long, since he felt alive. So he goes. And he discovers that Namjoon is a fantastic rapper and Yoongi is fucking impressed.

And when it’s Yoongi’s turn to rap, he is nervous at first, but the music starts and he gets into the zone quickly, spitting rhymes and grooving to the beat and Namjoon is also impressed. He hoots and cheers and is grinning so wide his dimples look like they’re going to pop. Yoongi goes home making a new friend and feels light, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Yoongi is disappointed Jimin didn’t sing (because he had a cough) but he doesn’t forget the way Jimin has his eyes trained on Yoongi when he rapped, face blank gaze sharp, like he’s both burning Yoongi ablaze and snuffing him out altogether.

It quickly becomes a weekly thing, noraebang sessions after dinner, most of the time on Fridays. And when singing and rapping in a dark-litted room sharing cramp (it’s actually spacious but Yoongi likes to exaggerate, sometimes) space with five other grown men runs out of novelty, they turn to other form of entertainment like catching the latest blockbusters or chilling in a nice ambient bar with alcohol of all sorts.

Yoongi joins in the conversations more, and actually talks a shit ton because he can be talkative if he wants to. It’s random, how the six of them ended up together but they fit well and Yoongi is glad he’s got five other he can lean on for support because life can crumble you sometimes. And he still hates his job. He can safely say he’s got all their characters pinned down quite well (Taehyung the best since he knew him the longest), and have formed some sort of bond with each of them. Yet despite the many months, Yoongi still remains stuck with Jimin.

He can blame his introverted nature and general dislike for human interactions, he can blame that well, though Jimin is definitely not shy around the rest, he turns into a brick around Yoongi. Yoongi can come up with all the excuses in the whole fucking world but all’s to really blame is his shit of an ego. And with that, he lives a lot in his head. Sometimes too good for his own.

In his own space, Yoongi indulges himself. In his head, Jimin isn’t reserved around him. He acts cute and demands attention from Yoongi the way he does from Namjoon. He whispers secrets in Yoongi’s ears and communicates with knowing eyes the way he does with Taehyung. He plays and makes lame jokes with Yoongi the way he does with Jin. He flirts and acts coy and evades all sorts of personal space with Yoongi the way he does with Hoseok. In Yoongi’s head, Jimin isn’t all shorts answers and polite words with him. In Yoongi’s head, Jimin isn’t all controlled mannerisms and shift in dynamics around him. In Yoongi’s head, Jimin is more than just mischievous eyes and occasional bold words when alone with him.

Taehyung used to poke fun at Yoongi whenever he could, because it had been amusing in his eyes. Now it’s been months and Taehyung has stopped because it’s now just plain sad, hyung. You’re such an emotionally constipated shithead. Can’t you tell Jimin wants to jump your bones too? And well, no Taehyung, thanks but hyung can’t tell. Because Yoongi doesn’t see shit? And he rather save himself the embarrassment. He rather stay in his comfort zone. That’s all he’s good at isn’t it – being stuck in his comfort zone. But Yoongi can’t help it. He hates it, but he’s honestly not sure what he’s so afraid of. Maybe one day he’ll find out. Maybe Jimin does like him. Maybe Yoongi would do something. Maybe if he had a little more guts. Maybe if he fucking fought harder for himself when he turned 21 instead of falling into the societal standards, he wouldn’t be so defeated. Maybe Yoongi should stop fucking wondering and do something. Maybe he’ll do it tomorrow. Maybe he should just go to bed and stop fucking thinking.

Things have an unexpected turn when a new addition joins their friend circle. It comes in the form of a boy with insanely chiselled good looks and legs almost as long as Namjoon, and a fervent passion for life that roars with his presence. Yoongi learns Jungkook is 21 and interning at the company as a marketer. Yoongi doesn’t understand why anyone would want to come work in this shithole of a corporation let alone intern. Jungkook says he wants to try as many different jobs as he can for experience as he paves the way for his career and chases his ambition. Yoongi asks what’s it that he’s after and Jungkook answers easily with fierce eyes, music. Music production, song-writing – whatever. He’s definitely making music, that he’s sure. Yoongi shuts up because he sees a reflection of what he used to be at 18. Bites and swallows back the snide because at least Jungkook has a plan and he isn’t stuck. At least Jungkook is trying and not wallowing in self-misery like Yoongi.

And because of that Jungkook somehow manages to worm his way and becomes a soft spot for Yoongi. He seeks comfort in an unexpected companion, and teaches Jungkook whatever he has learned, so at least when (and not if) Jungkook succeeds, Yoongi has some sort of achievement he can bring to his grave.

Jungkook loves teasing his hyungs, and especially Yoongi, which Yoongi lets. Hoseok points out, one day during lunch of Jungkook’s blatant favouritism (quote, unquote) towards Yoongi when he gives Yoongi an extra pack of premium beef from his short trip to Jeju island. Taehyung side-eyes and smirks at Yoongi, Namjoon just laughs quietly and shakes his head, and Jin doesn’t care only focusing on his udon. Jimin just stares, face blank, at Yoongi (who’s sitting opposite), with weight in his eyes. He breaks eye contact first and Yoongi feels lost, and Jimin turns to tackle Jungkook, one arm slung around his neck and Jimin jabs at his ribs playfully.

And it gets weird, because Yoongi praises Jungkook more often than not and seeks physical affection from the younger more than he ever did in the past 25 years of his life. And Jimin doesn’t keep his hands off Jungkook and Jungkook just lets him, soaking up in all the attention he’s receiving from his two hyungs.

And it gets weirder when Jimin points and opens his mouth while Jungkook feeds him ice cream, but Jimin licks the spoon with his eyes on Yoongi. And Yoongi stares outrightly at Jimin as he feeds Jungkook grilled meat, and it’s only icing on the cake when Jungkook happily licks the greasy sauce off Yoongi’s fingers.

Yoongi is confused, but Jimin seems to be playing a game and Yoongi is happy they’ve finally got a link between them two although he doesn’t have a single clue what the fuck is going on. But Yoongi keeps going on at it, if it means getting attention from Jimin.

It goes on for weeks in fact, both on the pretext of vying for Jungkook’s attention and affection, while really trying to make each other jealous. It becomes a vicious cycle, but also a really comical one in eyes of an outsider’s perspective. Taehyung is most amused, and wanted to intervene at one point, but refrained so for wanting to see how long the two idiots are willing to torture themselves (and Jungkook).

Taehyung’s entertainment is short-lived because Jungkook isn't one to be shoved around. He's well smothered and he’s done with this nonsense. He thought his hyungs were great friends and would help out, with his silent pleas of frantic eyes and excessive bodily affection but nothing happens. They’re shit friends. He's making a diss track for each one of them.

So on a Thursday morning, with a splitting headache pounding at his skull and Jimin and Yoongi both trying to fuck and stab each other with their eyes, Jungkook intervenes. He sends a separate text to both of them with a stupid story they would buy, and waits at one of the meeting rooms at the far end of the hallway.

Yoongi arrives first, blonde hair peeking out from the door and grins with bright eyes. Any other time Jungkook would have been warmed, but right about now he has to physically restrain himself from choking his hyung with the blue lanyard dangling innocuously around his neck.

Yoongi is in a good mood today, it seems. He’s making stupid jokes and snickering to himself. Usually Jungkook would make it his daily goal to disturb and annoy Yoongi at least once. Today, the sound of Yoongi’s low rumble of a laugh is like a slap to his skull.

Jimin appears shortly after, spilling through the door as it wrenches open. Yoongi stops talking and turns, and he sees Jimin with his messy red hair and shit of a tie knot and he immediately shuts up.

Jimin looks from Jungkook to Yoongi, who’s sitting across Jungkook and swiveling in his chair, one leg over the another. Jimin looks proper confused, brown eyes bright and questioning, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose.

It's lovely, really, Jungkook thinks, how dumb these two are. Jungkook steals a quick glance at Yoongi and sees him trying to fake indifference but he knows his hyung is shamelessly checking Jimin out, because he knows Yoongi has a weak spot for Jimin in glasses. Something about the big rims framing his cute face nicely accentuating the cheeks Yoongi desperately wants to pinch. It's annoying.

(Jungkook may or may not have taken advantage of a very drunk Yoongi once or twice.)

And they're both in white shirt and black ties wow, matching much?

(Although it's the most generic form of office wear but Jungkook is petty like that.)

Confusion flits across Jimin’s face, and then he closes up the next second. Jimin must think he schools his emotions well. Oh but Jungkook is a master at reading emotions and pulling apart at frayed strings.

“Sorry, I'll come back later.” Jimin says, tone clipped. Yoongi has since broken eye contact and looked away, crossing his legs and slouching forward, boredom on his face. And Jungkook just wants his migraine to fucking stop.

Before Jimin could swing the door close, Jungkook clears his throat and calls after him. Demands him back in the room. His bespectacled hyung quietly obliges, question marks above his head growing bigger by the second. Jungkook wants to laugh at the comical sight. Yoongi finally stops boring holes at the carpeted floor and turns his attention to Jungkook when he stands up. Jungkook gestures Jimin over to his seat and Jimin stalks over, brows drawn back but he doesn’t ask questions. Jungkook rounds over the table and stands in front of them, near to the door and clears his throat. Jimin frowns, as he tidies his hair and then folds his arms. Yoongi just looks confused.

Yoongi is confused, actually and Jungkook clears his throat again.

“As much as I love the attention from you both this is getting out of hand. I don't know about the rest if they're blind, faking it or just dumb, but I am suffocating over here.” Jungkook sighs.

Yoongi furrows his brows. Stops swivelling the chair. Jungkook cards his hair with his fingers with a dramatic pause. What’s this boy droning on about?

Jungkook doesn’t continue, much to Yoongi’s surprise. He’d thought the boy had a long speech prepared, and Yoongi was actually wondering if he did anything wrong. After a long, quiet, awkward beat, with only the dull lull of the aircon whirring in the background, Jungkook speaks again. He looks from Jimin to Yoongi and then back to Jimin again. “Are y'all seriously both going to pretend you don't know what's going on or are you both blind as well or just plain dumb?”

Ok now Yoongi is just fucking lost.

“What?” He says, irritated, being clueless. Coincidentally, Jimin responses the same thing at the same time. But he sounds defensive, if anything.

“Wow, ok plain dumb then. Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, then blows at his fringe and looks away.

And Yoongi has always known Jungkook as sensitive and wittier than he looks. He catches on things fast, and gets lost in his thoughts. He also knows Jungkook has a blunt streak by nature and sometimes the lack of filter with his brain and his mouth gets him in trouble. Jungkook disagrees, says he’s merely straightforward and he’s already filtering. What he says next is like a pail of ice cold water dumped over Yoongi and he gets a metaphorical brain freeze.

“Yoongi hyung you're still my favourite – no offense Jimin – don't stop showering affection to me. But for the love of god do something please, for the sake of my wellbeing. I don't appreciate being used as an object to provoke jealousy.”

Oh. oh.

Jungkook looks at Yoongi and jabs an accusing finger in the air, “Yoongi hyung it’s obvious how much you are attracted to Jimin and Jimin hyung,” He turns to Jimin, and points the offending finger at him, “Everyone – but Yoongi – can see how much you want to jump his bones. So please. Fix it. Ok? Ok.” Jungkook gestures with his both his hands and takes their lack of response as a response. And then leaves. The door creaks open and snaps shut the next moment, and then it’s just Yoongi and Jimin.

What the fu—?

Shit. Yoongi feels really cold and the room suddenly seems ten times bigger. Yoongi shifts in his chair lamely. He doesn’t turn around though, which means he can’t see Jimin’s expression. But Jimin’s gone mum too and well, two can play at this game. And Yoongi wants to laugh because that’s all they’ve been doing the past month or so, on tiptoes and skirting around each other.

Yoongi can leave, right now, just three strides forward and he’ll reach the door. He can just waltz right out and pretend Jungkook didn’t just out them and threw the ball in their court. He can just deny anything and accuse Jungkook for spouting nonsense and carry on with his pathetic life living with nothing but the accompany of his self-loathe and self-angst. He can also just quit, and maybe either stay at home until he gets evicted or move back with his parents. He can also just look for a new job, goddamn. Or he can simply wait, for Jimin to leave first.

Yoongi can leave – he sees the brown door at the side, the silver handle glistening under the fluorescent light. What’s Jimin going to do? Make him stay? Yoongi bites back a snort at the thought. Jungkook must be seeing things. He needs to get his eyes checked. Perhaps his brain too.

He can run, and run right back into the arms of fear like what he's pretty much been doing for the past 25 years. When shit got tough and Yoongi thought he was strong but he had thought wrong. He can run away and seek comfort in the walls he’s built up sky high so nothing can hurt him anymore. But is it that all good feeling nothing at all? Emptiness, bleakness, pointless?

Yoongi can leave but his feet are plastered to the ground, his rubber soles rooted to the navy carpet, his whole body seemingly lodged physically to the chair. And Jimin can run too, but he hasn't, still equally stuck like Yoongi. And that’s saying something isn't it?

But staying stuck is as good as running and Yoongi’s tired. He should rest. There are a lot of things Yoongi wants to say, but his mind is running miles per second and his thoughts are out of reach. So he clears his head and tries something simple. It's not the most glamorous thing out his mouth but Yoongi’s struck with an idea and he’s following his instincts. This time, he’s pulling the plugs off his filter.

Yoongi turns to his left slowly, his leg sliding over the ground easily and takes a tentative glance at Jimin. Tufts of red fringe falls over his eyes and Jimin’s just playing with his fingers, sitting slouched to one side, both knees pressed tight together.

And Yoongi’s heart swells because fuck, isn't it a ridiculously cute sight. Jimin is literally doing nothing, except being unsure and slightly fidgeting. Jimin may be a cute person in general, like a fucking baby chick with his round cheeks and cute smile that blinds but he’s also like an inferno sometimes, blazing right through the forest Yoongi so desperately hides in. And seeing him unsure, Yoongi wants that uncertainty right off his face. So he says whatever that comes to his mind first.

“So you want to jump my bones?” Yoongi starts, voice low and eyes playful. His witty streak usually gets him in trouble (and maybe hated by half the population in the company but like Yoongi cares), but dare he say wittiness fits best right now. Yoongi’s not good with expressing himself, and being witty is the closest he can get to being emotionally expressive.

Jimin stops fiddling with his finger and looks at Yoongi with wary eyes. His glasses slide his nose unglamorously, and Jimin pushes it back haughtily, his whole demeanour changing as he spreads himself out on the black chair. He drops his hands to the sides on the armrest and tilts his chin up.

“And exactly how much are you attracted to me?”  

Yoongi grins. Jimin smiles back.

Their wasted time spent tiptoeing around each other and beating about the bush is quickly made up with stolen kisses and lingering touches in the office in the following week.

Yoongi sees Jimin one Monday afternoon, making tea in the pantry, and he walks past entertaining thoughts but then realizes he can play them out for real this time. Backtracks his steps and waltz right into the space (grateful the windows are at least frosted) and Yoongi pulls Jimin away from the counter, teabag in his hand and confusion on his face. Pushes Jimin against the sandy beige wall and grips at his waist, Yoongi’s fingers clawing at cotton. Slots his lips against Jimin and tastes the sweetness of him Yoongi’s been craving all morning. Jimin drops the teabag as his fingers latch around Yoongi’s arm, and shoves his thigh hastily between Yoongi’s legs. Yoongi kisses him until he makes Jimin’s lips all red and swollen, hair tussled and tie messy. Then pulls away, satisfied with how wrecked Jimin looks during office hours, and leaves him be to make his tea, asking him to brew him a cup too with a smirk. Almost runs to the toilet and embarrassingly releases the heavy ache in his cock.

Yoongi drives them both to work and drives Jimin home, or sometimes drives them both back to his apartment. Yoongi buys a new toothbrush at his place and Jimin gives him a set of his house keys.

Yoongi’s days at work are even brighter now, for when he feels drained and suffocated from the mocking numbers glaring at him from the screen, he straightens himself and takes a peek across his seat. Looks at the boy with burgundy red hair hunched back, or absently swivelling in his chair and Yoongi’s heart feels full. Doesn’t even chide Taehyung when he teases Yoongi of being an absolute lovesick fool. It’s gross hyung, give me back pouty Min Yoongi. You’re not even scolding me, I’m getting goosebumps.

Yoongi’s heart feels full and suddenly at the top of the world, unafraid of the storms that may come, wants it to rock his boat violently so when the calm comes after, Yoongi may be drenched but he would punch his fist in the air in triumph because he faced and conquered.

And Yoongi will love Jimin a little more everyday, whenever he will pop by Yoongi’s cubicle with a lame sock and cheers his spirits up with a lame skit, voice so high Yoongi thinks Jimin may burst a vessel. When Jimin will roll his chair over randomly, and invades all sorts of personal space squeezing Yoongi all the way to the corner. When he will fold his arms and lie his head over, acting cute and grinning wide at Yoongi.

Yoongi will feel his heart skip a beat everytime they all head out for lunch or dinner and Jimin will wordlessly tug at his hand once and then skips over to Taehyung. Or when Jimin will kick at Yoongi’s feet under the table when everyone has their mouth full of food or joking around, and Jimin will just smirk as he shoves a spoon full of rice in his mouth.

Yoongi will feel his head go dizzy, intoxicated, when Jimin will slide in his car in the mornings, satchel flung to the back, shirt pressed and smelling fresh with a blinding grin worn on his face. And Jimin will say good morning and before Yoongi can respond, one hand on the steering wheel, Jimin will close the door and he will pull Yoongi by his tie, pull him close and press his lips hard against Yoongi’s, licking into his mouth while Yoongi will drown in the scent of Jimin.

Yoongi will know how completely in love he is with Jimin and how much more he will continue to keep falling, when Jimin will become the reasons he can’t stop thinking in rhymes or hearing melodies everywhere he goes. And Yoongi doesn’t know what the future will hold but he will know he wants to spend a long long time with Jimin, when he encourages him to clean his Maschine Studio and plug it in to play some beats for him. Yoongi will still feel the burning desire to love Jimin, even when they fight and Yoongi gets so mad. He will still want to throw his arms around Jimin and kiss him senseless.

And Yoongi will be bursting of joy, heart swelling with pride when Jimin makes it into the dance studio he’s been trying for years to get a spot as a choreographer. And Yoongi will find his drive and fire again, when he bleeds words over paper and translates them to wicked tunes to a group of following that will find strength and comfort in it.

Yoongi will finally feel a bit more accomplished with his life, and he will stop feeling sorry and a letdown to his 18 year old self. Yoongi will finally be at peace with himself.

Yoongi takes another peek at Jimin, and stares obnoxiously at his boyfriend. Jimin scratches his head and Yoongi stifles a giggle (goddamn). He doesn’t stop staring, the sales report completely forgotten as he watches his boyfriend work, until Jimin probably feels eyes on him and casually turns around.

Their eyes meet and Yoongi gives him a fond smile. Jimin grins back shyly.

For a different ending, try K.

K.

Jimin is 18 when he debuts with four other boys as a dance project, a marketing experiment, an evolution the company think they founded. Jimin smiles, eyes crinkling, voice sweet and words of gratitude pouring from his mouth when he gets presented a two-year contract in the conference room.

"It's just a project, we'll see how it goes, but we're confident of a good reception."

Jimin signs, with his parents beside him and his head dizzy with all the fine prints blinking back. He smiles some more and keeps his head bowed longer than usual until they dismiss him. The smile on his face drops and his eyes hold weight.

Jimin is mature for his age and has always been smart, catches on things easily. But people only see a boy with big eyes and round cheeks and they assume something else. When he was training, Jimin would get annoyed easily, when he gets treated like a child. As if he's fragile and weak and needs adults in big boy pants to tell him exactly what to do. As if he's dumb and would get cheated if not told, or worse educated.

But he's 19 now, and it's one more month till his dance group celebrates their one year anniversary. That means another year and then it's either continuation or disbandment. Jimin is 19, and he still talks and smiles the same. It's just wired in him, it's just the way he is and the way he speaks but does it mean he can't take care of himself?

He is 19, and knows a shit ton more than what people would think. He knows this group would disband, even from three months in. Because the entertainment industry is a hungry fierce place. Because he knows fans favour him and another member most. Because he knows what it means; the hushed conversations of their manager on the phone, the shuffling of feet every time a producer leaves the dorm. Why another member from his group keeps getting into fucked up scandals even though all of it are untrue; snapshots based off terrible timing and badly taken out of context. Jimin knows and he's only 19, but they think he doesn't so he just keeps smiling, and keeps cooing, and keeps stealing hearts.

It's a dog eat dog world, Jimin thinks. He knew what the words mean but he only truly understands, when he walks in (accidentally) on some aspiring idol desperate for success sucking off some top producer of a music network, in the toilet at the backstage. Three weeks later said aspiring idol new single appears out of nowhere and top charts. Jimin rolls his eyes because his voice is mediocre at best and there are others who deserve it instead.

Jimin turns 20 and he's getting bored. Bored of all the cameras and the fake smiles he always has to wear. Bored of appearing on variety and having his (fake) personality spelled out like it’s all written on his face. Bored of dancing. Jimin can’t believe it, but he’s actually grown bored of dancing (or perhaps more fittingly, grown bored of dancing, to an audience).

Their group gets called in late one night, when everyone is supposed to be shuffling back to dorm after a showcase, like the good boys they are (and then sneak out at night for chicken wings and ice cream). Jimin is glad they are finally fostering some sort of bond, that Joonhyung and Jaewu don’t try to bite each other’s heads off when the cameras are no longer rolling. That Henri is actually being friendly, and not curt and swarming with jealousy towards Jimin like how he usually is.

Jimin always thinks one step ahead and he should have thought of what’s about to come, but he was being hopeful. He was being optimistic. Just a shred of hope is enough to tear you down.

It’s twelve minutes to midnight and the company representative tells them they’re disbanding the group: It was a good run. A very successful project. We need to keep the public invested so we’re disbanding you. We’re giving you solo projects. We’ll see how the fans react to this. Another marketing strategy, another marketing project, another marketing experiment. We have many roles to offer you: host, radio dj, actor, singer? Rapper? Skills not yet on par? Well train some more! That will make your solo debut even more exciting! Think it over boys, we’ll be back with contracts in the week or so.

(Because why make money out of one group when you can make money out of five individuals?)

And Jimin is numbed. He looks down at his hands and he suddenly hates this life.

Jimin is 21 and he’s a bit sick. Sick because he probably had a bad dinner and now his stomach is churning but he’s still got a show to perform. There are thirty thousand attendees, all coming for him and only him. Jimin can’t let them down like that. So he pops two pills and toughen it out and swallows the bile that threaten to rise. He sings, pours all his frustrations and pent up emotions and sings. And by the end of the show Jimin is alive, tears welling in his eyes and it is beautiful, from where he stands, the colours of different lightsticks that illuminate the enclosed arena. The screams and the cheers, and Jimin feels alive. That everything he sacrificed and worked for, it was probably worth it.

But when he returns back to his hotel suite, too damn big for a person to sleep in and the dull silence get deafening by the minute, Jimin goes back to feeling empty.

Jimin is 21, when he stumbles upon a 6-member boy group that’s climbing the charts and gaining popularity like storm around the world, while flipping through the channels. He’s heard of them, vaguely when they just debuted. Didn’t have much of an impression back then and not so much any either now. They’re one year his junior but majority of them are slightly older than him. And Jimin is wondering, how the hell is it that now does he discover the group because their music is pretty good. He likes it. So he spends the next three hours watching random videos of them on his phone and pretty much memorizes all their names.

Wonders how it feels like to be in a group that has true bond, true camaraderie because damn, Jimin would like to know. He’s been pretty alone all his life. Ever since 15, when he became a trainee. Jimin wonders how things would be, if he had been less impatient at 17, when he signed that contract. He just wanted out. Out of trainee life, out of that robotic shit of a system. Maybe he should have he joined another company instead.

His manager knocks at his door, eight in the morning the next day and informs him of his two interviews, one variety taping, one photoshoot and two live performance tapings scheduled for the day. Jimin nods sleepily and waves his manager off and rolls to the other side of the bed, and wishes he had six other members to draw strength from.

Jimin is 22, and he gets his first real shit scandal. Some fans go bizarre, netizens turn into keyboard warriors and everyone is ruthlessly (him included) attacked and torn to shreds. Jimin is 22, and he is not allowed to be dating anyone, in the eyes of some people. He apparently, is 22 and probably, still a virgin, someone who doesn’t have a single clue about anything sexual or shouldn’t have a clue about so. He is 22, but no, he is still their baby, he needs to be protected, they know better, don’t they!

Would those people still like him if they knew he lost his virginity at 15, at the corner of the practice room with some other trainee, Jimin for the love of god can’t seem to remember her name of? Would they still want to protect him if they knew how Jimin, at 16, beat up another boy because that boy broke his keychain, a gift from his younger brother, bought with his own money for Jimin before he left for Seoul? Would they still want to love him, when they know the rage he can get into, that burns the back of his hands and paint the walls bright red? Would they still want to love him, if they know that he can’t decide if he also likes sucking dicks or having his dick sucked more? Would they still put him on that pedestal, if they knew that he probably has a lot of pet peeves and maybe snores all the time in his sleep and is basically just a human with emotions and feelings, not just an object of affection?

But Jimin knew what he was getting into, he knew when he chose to be an idol. So he can’t complain, can he? Does it mean he can’t at least try to educate some people?

He's no fucking saint. He's done things he's not proud of, and he is still going to do them anyways. Call it comfort, stupidity, arbitrary decisions. Jimin calls it bad habits.

But Jimin ploughs through anyway; he’s a fighter. He has a goal. He’s not doing this for fame or money. He wants to make a difference in the world. And as long as he’s still breathing he’s going to keep going on at it. But Jimin gets jaded.

A breath of fresh air and strength comes in the form of a petite 25 year old, when Jimin is 23 and sitting alone at the fansign table, drinking iced coffee. The fansign is tomorrow and his manager has dragged him down to familiarize with the space. The fuck does it even mean Jimin doesn’t even know. These days the more he gets cooped up alone at home or his hotel the more he drown in his thoughts so he rather be out.

And then he sees her, like a beacon of light, as cheesy as fuck that may sound but that’s how it feels to Jimin, as she waltz over, energy vibrating through her steps and waves warmly.

“I know I should probably wait for your manager to do the formal introductions, but I’ve been watching you for the past fifteen minutes and all you’re doing is staring into space so I decided to just come and introduce myself first?” She sounds unsure but her presence is strong and cutting. She grins and scrunches her nose.

Jimin laughs, barks it out and quickly stands up. They exchange names (not like she doesn’t already know his since she is going to be his translator for the fanmeet and fansign tomorrow), and he learns hers is Happy. Jimin thinks it’s a cute name.

“Was it that obvious? That I didn’t want to be here?” Jimin jokes.

Happy snorts, “God anyone could spot it from a mile.” And Jimin instantly likes her. She’s sweet and polite but also dry and sarcastic at times. Jimin doesn’t remember when was the last time he had this much fun having a conversation with a person he just met.

“You hungry? Wanna get some quick bites? There's a nice diner across the street. You can wear a cap if you're afraid of being recognized.” Happy grins.

Jimin is a little taken aback because nobody has spoken to him, the way she speaks to him, in a long time. Like he's fucking human, like he's a friend. Like they're not trying to worm something out of him.

“Should I get a permission slip?” Happy adds when Jimin hasn't respond. Jimin rolls his eyes but smiles either way and tells her to lead the way. He’ll just send a text to his manager, and he’s got his wallet and hotel card. He’s 23, he can take care of himself, gosh. He came to Seoul alone when he was 14, and nobody really gave a shit.

After they placed their orders, Jimin scans the diner and sees mostly middle aged patrons, sipping away at milkshakes or cutting their steaks. A family or two with little ones but it’s not too crowded. No one seems to pay mind to the two people wedged right at the corner near the windows. Jimin exhales a long sigh of breath he didn't know he was keeping. Glad to be invisible for once.

“I’m not trying to wheedle you of anything ok, so don't think I'm here to sell things or anything like that. I'm just really hungry. And you look like you needed some fresh air.” Happy shrugs her left shoulder. Plays with a lock of her hair then tucks it in behind her ears.

“I didn't say anything,” Jimin tries not to tease.

“Besides you seem better in person.” Happy finishes.

“Better like how?” Jimin quips.

“Like, not dumb.”

“Not dumb?”

“Like yeah, you always have that smile on and everyone falls in love with you instantaneously and shit. Like a little baby chick. Harmless. But of course, we all have different sides to us.” Happy folds her arms and shrugs. Her black hair cascades along her shoulders, to her collar, and it swishes about as she moves.

Jimin can only stare because shit, this girl is something.

“Don't be a hater.” Jimin chides. And leans back. Their fries arrive and Happy digs in quickly. Five minutes later and half the fries gone Happy says, “I'm not a hater.” And Jimin can't stop laughing for the next hour and a half.

He learns that Happy, never thought of becoming a translator; always wanted to work in the field of architectural design. Since she’s always been good with language and does well for English, she started translating for relatives. Then friends, then colleagues, and then slowly somehow for small idols and actors to earn extra income. And one particular day after a showcase an agent approached her asking if she’d be interested to have larger-scaled bookings. Of course Happy agreed because all these earnings eventually go into her fund for her degree (in architectural design), which she is currently taking. Fourth year.

“But you're overseas now? Aren't you studying?” Jimin asks with his mouth full of food. He should be embarrassed, should be concerned of image, but Happy makes things comfortable, makes him forget that he’s Park Jimin, Top Solo Idol. That just Jimin alone, suffice.

“Term break.” Happy shakes her head with a fry in her hand and grins. Probably finds it amusing that Jimin never needed to live a life like this, juggling school and work. Some days when Jimin is greedy, he imagines what it's like.

Jimin still wonders from time to time how it would be if he isn't a solo artist. He wonders if he would be the seventh member of BTS? He wonders why up till now, even at 26 with many sold out concerts, highly topped albums and many awards how they haven't crossed paths. He would love to collaborate with them. Or at least one of them. But Jimin doesn't bring up his ideas to his manager and briefly forgets about that silver-haired boy with a voice like honey and crazy power when he raps, when the hosts diverts their attention to him and calls him, and the cameras pan over.

Jimin is 29 when he meets Happy again, this time in Korea, at a stationery store as he tries to find for a present for his two-year old nephew. Jimin knew his brother would marry first but he never thought that even when he’s already a dad, that Jimin would still be single as fuck. Oh well, he’s got sky high piled up of greens in his bank, at least he’s got something. Jimin thinks.

“Yah Park Jimin?” It's quiet in the store so her whispering still sounds like a shout in his ears.

Jimin whips around and gets the surprise of his life. Never imagined he’d see Happy again (and he regretted not getting her number), but here she is years later, in the same fucking store buying...stationery.

They exchange pleasantries and conversed for fifteen minutes straight smacked right between two bookshelves like old friends that just got re-acquainted.

“It was lovely seeing you, in person again Jimin.” Happy smiles, eyes bright. She picks up the shopping basket (filled with stationery of all sorts) she left on the floor and looks expectantly at him.

“You too. I’m really glad to know you've reached your ambition. Congrats to your newly established company.” Jimin sticks his hand out. She shakes it with a wide smile and thanks him.

“You know who to call if you ever need a facelift!” Happy grins.

“Oh and kids section are at the back, just further down. I'm sure your nephew would love the colouring book. Get him maybe some toys too?” She laughs. Jimin rolls his eyes fondly.

She bids farewell and heads off to the cashier, her petite figure seemingly struggling with the shopping basket as she tugs on her baby blue midi skirt.

Jimin walks over to the kids section and stares blankly at the array of selection. Takes one out and puts it back. Takes another and puts it back. Checks his watch and realized ten minutes gone. Stretches himself and looks over at the cashier. Doesn't see any person with any blue skirt and he dashes out of the store.

Runs and runs until he sees the the back of a girl he only met twice but somehow recognizes, sees the shop name in big red fonts across the plastic bags and runs up to her.

Happy looks shocked when Jimin grabs her shoulder. Calms his racing heart and takes a deep breath and asks for her number.

“And maybe some quick bites? I know this cool diner near my place.”

Jimin is 31 when marries Happy. He is 32 when he becomes a dad.

Looking back, life wasn't so bad. It had been actually quite beautiful. There were tough moment no doubts, but at least Jimin tried, and enjoyed himself.

For a different ending try L.

L.

“Ah, nothing beats an iced cold beer.” Yoongi sighs out dreamily after another swig at his bottle. Jimin eyes his hyung quietly, corner of his mouth pulling in a smirk. Jimin takes another swig, a long one this time, let the iciness burn his throat and the bittersweet taste stain his tongue. Yoongi makes another noisy gulp and clinks at Jimin’s bottle when he brings his hand back down to the table.

“Fancy us watching the stars again,” Yoongi starts, both arms pressed in and his head tilted high. Jimin sets his bottle on the cocktail table. Presses a palm out on the wine red satin linen. Likes the texture against his skin.

“When was the last time we watched the stars Ji?” Yoongi turns his head at the mention of Jimin’s name, but Jimin still has his eyes fixed on something in the distance. Something in front. The hanging lights. Or the decorative flower vines that curl along the wooden fencing. It’s a lovely place. The weather is just nice – cool and windy, not too chilly. Nicely buzzed with alcohol. Hoseok picked a perfect spot for his engagement party. The crowd’s just right too, mostly familiar faces, some unfamiliar ones. Merry laughter and chatter fill the background.

“Huh.” Jimin answers perfunctorily as he checks his phone.

“What, you forgot?”

Jimin doesn’t see, but he can hear Yoongi grinning through his teeth, that one with the playful spark in his eyes. And Yoongi scoots closer, shoulders bumping and fingers brushing.

Their bottles clink a second time.

Jimin only responds, a beat much later and even then when he turns to face Yoongi, mind finally back at the rooftop, back at the party, back and clear, he’s a bit daunted by the proximity of Yoongi’s face to his. Jimin easily inches away as he cracks his neck, tilting his head to the right.

“Forgot what? Watching stars? With you, hyung?” Jimin laughs. It’s been years. They must have been in their teens. Trainee days stick with you, no matter where life brings you afterwards.

“You forgot! How dare you—” Yoongi sets his bottle back down, and makes a dramatic stomp. The crinkle in his eyes and the teasing tone in his voice tells Jimin Yoongi is in an unexpectedly good mood. Must be the joy of a happy event. Jimin’s heart swells with pride seeing Hoseok so happy tonight. He looks absolutely dashing in his suit. Looking and smelling like a million dollars with that snugly fit black paisley printed blazer and ridiculously shiny Gucci loafers. Simple but classic. And his hair swept up effortlessly; it’s no wonder Hyukjae can’t keep his eyes off Hoseok the whole damn night.

“How do you think things would have worked out?”

Jimin’s by now leaning sideways against the cocktail table, right elbow propped against, facing Yoongi and in clear view of most guests in the main area on the rooftop deck. He let his eyes wander about, from the colours of their dresses and blazers and shoes to the brightly illuminated light at corner on the left, the staircase leading up to the rooftop.

Jimin thought he misheard Yoongi. Thought he asked him how he thought things would have worked out. And Jimin would have answered well you’re being vague hyung, what would have worked out? But Yoongi repeats himself, then turns away, back to facing the clear acrylic panels, at the clear navy skies, hunched forward and takes another swig of his beer.

And then Jimin gets a bit thrown off, the initial reply in his head gone and his voice wavers when he responds, “What would have worked out?” Surely, not—

“I mean us,” Yoongi turns his head slightly, looks at Jimin. His hand is loose at the neck of the beer bottle, lips at the finish, teething against the bead. A breeze gently brushes at Yoongi’s fringe, probably tickling his eyes. He doesn’t waver. The glimmer in his eyes doesn’t fade. Jimin feels queasy.

And he is confused because what the fuck? Is this some kind of joke?

“Your second baby is on the way and I just got married and you're asking what if things worked out?”

“I mean I'm just saying,” Yoongi quickly cuts in, tidying his fringe as he tries to explain.

“Don't you think about alternatives sometimes? Little parallel universes in your head from time to time?” Yoongi says. And he inches closer, because that how Yoongi gets when he feels like he’s letting you on in a secret. Like he made some sort of fucking fantastic revelation and he needs to share it. Jimin keeps glancing at the corner, at the light on the ceiling (it flickers once), at the white door pulled wide open, at the empty space inside and keeps waiting for Taehyung to appear at the steps. Fuck, Tae, where are you?

“I mean, I’m just saying. If we worked out, it’d be quite cool to have hosted an engagement party with Hoseok and Hyukjae. Don’t you think?” Yoongi smiles.

“But then again, Hobi’s quite theatrical he probably doesn’t like to share this special moment.” And Yoongi snorts a short laugh, entertaining whatever thought or idea or universe he’s having in that delirious mind of his.

“Don’t you think?” Yoongi repeats himself. His smile dims into a lop-sided grin. Takes another mouth and finally finishes his fucking beer. Jimin wishes he hadn’t drunk all his five minutes ago. Yoongi says it like he’s talking about the weather and Jimin hates that it still feels like a thunderstorm brewing in his heart.

It suddenly feels weird seeing him this close, physically. He can see some wrinkles around his eyes, those laugh lines setting in. And Yoongi definitely looks older, but he still looks young at the same time. The natural blush of his cheek the youth on his face. His eyes are brown but when there’s barely light they look black, but it doesn’t bite. Jimin tears his eyes away, when a text comes in and his phone buzzes.

“No I don't, I don’t bother thinking about such stupid things because the reality I know and am living in, our lives barely coincide, after you turned 29 and I turned 27.” Jimin says and he pulls himself away, straight to the bright light, straight to the stairs.

No, Jimin doesn't ever entertain thoughts about looking at the stars and trying to count them, when he was 16 and Yoongi 18, how they laughed into the drunken night with only the moon to watch them. Heads hung low the next morning because they spent all night by each other’s side talking about anything and everything, instead of asleep in their beds.

Jimin doesn't ever think about the times when flirting and banter wasn't enough for Yoongi, when playful eyes and lingering touches no longer sufficed and he just needed a taste.

Jimin doesn't ever think about the times when despite their late schedules and long days, they still had the energy to roam over each other’s bodies and marked soft skin. How smart it was when they decided to shower together to save time and avoided the members’ suspicion. Which usually resulted in Jimin biting at Yoongi’s shoulder to suppress his moan as he came so hard his knees buckle, or when Yoongi clawed at Jimin’s arms and buried his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck as he groaned out Jimin’s name over and over.

Jimin doesn't ever, think about the times when he saw Yoongi with his fair skin and fading purple bruises, and his heart soared with pride because he did that. Because Yoongi let him. Because Yoongi was his.

Jimin doesn't ever think, about the times when they stayed late in the studio, working on random songs together and compiling a tracklist for their inevitable (as quoted by Yoongi) subunit. Where it was just two of them in a room, surrounded with all things music and they happily got lost together.

Jimin doesn't ever think, about the times when Yoongi would drag Jimin in the middle of the night to the sushi place two blocks down the street, or when they got a day off and Yoongi brought him for spicy chicken and snuck into movies.

Jimin definitely, doesn't ever, entertain thoughts of an outcome different than how it panned out when Yoongi told him he didn't love him. That it was just fun. That that's what they had to resort to, since idol life was not easy and usually lonely.

He definitely doesn't think about the different ways he could have—should have—begged Yoongi to stay, because that's bullshit. Because aren’t you the fearless? Then why are you afraid?

Jimin definitely doesn't think about how he probably should have never gone to the balcony when Yoongi beckoned him over in the summer nights of 2011. Jimin definitely doesn't think about how maybe in another universe, he gets to live his happy ending with Min Yoongi.

No, he doesn't. (Yes he did.)

For a different ending, try M.

M.

It's just fanservice, Jimin tries to drown the words out but at the same time wants it to ring at his ears and pound at his head.

It’s just fanservice, Jimin recites it like a mantra in his head every time Yoongi breaks into a grin, and his hand reaches out to find his, and he interlocks them with a vice like grip. When there’s a room full of squealing girls, and he says things like i don’t like rice cakes, but manggaetteok is not bad, and tries to hide a smirk. When they’re on stage and there’s easily ten cameras of every angle rolling, and Yoongi walks up with a fond smile and dusts confetti off Jimin’s hair. And Jimin grins back just as fondly, heart skipping a beat, until Yoongi winks and walks away and his heart drops to his ankle.

It’s just fanservice, Jimin wishes he could tell his seventeen-year old naive self, that every glance, every touch, every tease will be calculated. That when he was added into a group with six other boys, they’re not just his good friends and members but they’re also his colleagues, that this is not just an ambition achieved but a career. That when during the first year of their debut, their publicists made them stick to a strict schedule on paired up members and interactions, Jimin should have been prepared and well adjusted in the later years to come. That whenever the whole team have meetings to derive concepts and marketing strategies he shouldn’t have tuned out when the marketing team said but the fans will like it when you put Yoongi with Jimin, and another quipped don’t forget get about the ones that like Jungkook with Jimin—

And when Jimin learned (but not yet understood truly) the meaning of fanservice, he wished he told his nineteen-year old self to not be blatant with his actions because every action has a consequence. That he can breeze and charm his way through his hyungs with his blinding grin and persuasive voice, and that he can push all of Yoongi’s buttons because fanservice, but he’ll still be the one getting the brunt of things at the end.

Jimin should have known better, but he forgot it was all fanservice, forgot for a brief moment and got lost in the comfort of the cameras and flashing lights and fell pawn into the system.

When Yoongi and him shared a hotel room together, goofing around, bursting in fits of laughter and falling into an accidental heated embrace of tangled limbs on the bed, breathing harsh and wild gazes locked, Jimin closed the gap. He inched forward, and he could taste the mint on his tongue – the scent of Yoongi making his head dizzy. His eyes were trained on his lips – pink, soft and glistening for fuck sake, but Yoongi pulled back at the last beat. Yoongi pulled back just before Jimin could brush his lips against his, pulled back so swiftly and easily, and asked Jimin tenderly (but tiredly) what are you doing?

And Jimin could only stare, wordlessly, his eyes still alternating from Yoongi’s brown orbs to his lips.

Yoongi gently pulled his leg from under Jimin’s and pushed himself off the bed, a grip on Jimin’s arm that burned his skin, when he told him, “It’s just fanservice.” It’s just fanservice Jimin, so don’t get invested. It’s just fanservice, and there’s no cameras around so don’t do anything gay. God, it’s just fanservice, Jimin, how are you so dumb to think it was probable actual feelings developed mutually? You’re an idol, Jimin, and this is all fanservice. Don’t you know better? It was just three words, but Jimin got Yoongi’s message loud and clear.

“Oh.” Jimin wished he had a better response than that.

So maybe if Jimin stopped sitting beside Yoongi during fansigns and swapped photoshoots so he didn’t have to be near Yoongi it wasn’t because he was avoiding him, but because Jimin is a good idol and he listens to his fans and they seem to like him better with Jungkook. Or even Taehyung. Yoongi seemed fine, playing with Hoseok and joking with him. Jimin’s glad he found someone who could grasp properly the concept of fanservice and play pretend.

And maybe if, after the cameras stopped rolling and the usual habitual routines like spicy chicken outings, movie nights after eleven, late night phone calls three times a week (sometimes more) that Jimin no longer entertained Yoongi of, it wasn’t because he was avoiding him. There were no cameras and there were no fans to entertain and Jimin felt lost to the blurry lines of what was supposed to feel real or scripted anymore.

That even when Yoongi, with all his incapability to emotionally express himself, cornered Jimin one day out of the blue in his room, eyes dangerous and his tone serious, what’s going on with you? why don’t you even reply my texts? Jimin still doubted the stomp in Yoongi’s steps and the gruff in his voice. Nothing’s wrong? Jimin could only lie through his teeth and smile a smile he knew Yoongi would like with the cameras around. And Jimin still didn’t quite get it when Yoongi slammed the door and ignored him weeks after like it was his fault.

It's just fanservice – Jimin wants to drown the words out but at the same time wants it to ring at his ears and pound at his head. He recites it like a mantra in his head. But when he sees Yoongi, Jimin forgets. And when Yoongi smiles at him like that, eyes crescent and grin so bright like Jimin hung the damn stars in the skies for him, Jimin completely forgets.

“Yah!” Namjoon snaps his fingers twice in front of Jimin and he snaps out his thoughts, back into the room, back unto the stage and on the hard plastic chair he’s sitting on, back to where the felt-tip marker rolls off his fingers and to the table. Jimin looks up blankly at Namjoon.

“Can you pass me my bottle and the mic?” Namjoon gestures to the two items further up on Jimin’s left.

“What, why? Are you moving elsewhere?” Jimin asks, and gingerly passes them over.

“Yeah, there's some shifting in seating arrangements for the second group.” Namjoon says casually, props a knee up on the empty chair next to Jimin and uncaps his bottle. The cat ears Namjoon wears looks good but comical on him, and it brings a small smile on Jimin’s face.

“Am I moving? Where are you sitting?” Jimin straightens.

Namjoon shakes his head and wipes away water dripping off his chin. “No you’re staying. I’m at the far end, first in the row.”

“So Jungkook’s shifting over?”

“No, Yoongi.” Namjoon looks apologetic when he says it. Fuck. Jimin feels his heart sink in his guts. He’s not in the right headspace to play pretend with Yoongi, he can’t fucking have him touching or smiling at him with hundred pair of eyes staring, and then when they’re alone not speak a single word to each other.

“Hyung,” Jimin starts, a hand reaching out to Namjoon. And he knows, Jimin knows Namjoon knows something’s up but he doesn’t probe, tries to let them sort it out themselves first, whatever it is.

“Hyung.” Jimin hates how pleading his voice sounds but he’s desperate. He should definitely deal with it soon but he’ll run for as long as he can for now.

“I tried chim, I tried covering. You have no idea. But June noona is adamant. She wants Yoongi seated there.” Namjoon bends down slightly. The speakers start playing their songs on shuffle. The lights dim and the projector runs in the background. Staff members loiter on and offstage, tidying the space.

“Look I don’t know what happened, but, just an hour chim. Just an hour and the day is over. And you know I hate to pressurize but whatever’s going on, you need to face it Jimin.” Namjoon is kneeling on one knee by now, hunched forward at Jimin.

What’s wrong, talk to me Ji. Namjoon tries. But Jimin waves him off, says it’s fine. Smiles tiredly at him, tells him it’s alright. Because Jimin is strong and he can do this, he can look Yoongi in the eye if he says something suggestive or stupid. He won’t faze if they get asked to do stupid things like, go exceptionally close face to face. Jimin won’t let himself break, with hundred pair of eyes watching and hundreds of lens filming the same thing in twenty different angles. And if Yoongi tries looping his finger with Jimin’s under the table, where there are no cameras to catch, Jimin will let him. Because when Yoongi smiles at him like that, he forgets.

And when they get back to their apartment, tired and exhausted, Jimin will fall to his bed, glad he’s finally at the comfort of his bed. And when Yoongi sneaks in in the middle of the night and curls up to Jimin, his arm tight around Jimin’s chest, Jimin will let him. When Yoongi says i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry, Jimin will let it go.

Because when Jimin turns around and looks at Yoongi in the eyes in the dead silence of the night, he will see the twinkle in his black orbs. And he will see the same look Yoongi wore months ago in the hotel room, and their breaths will catch all over again but this time Yoongi will inch forward and Jimin will not pull away.

Yoongi will press his lips gently against Jimin’s and Jimin will forget about all the stabs in his chest and kiss Yoongi back. And when Yoongi kisses him hungrily, Jimin will know that it has never been just fanservice and that some things will fall into place, even if it took a long time coming.

For a different ending, try N.

N. 

Yoongi is a lot of things. He is as fiercely ambitious as he is lazy, is as fearless as he is fearful. He is cynical as he is hopeful, and determined as he is doubtful.

Yoongi realizes he is in love when he is 22, to someone as easily obtainable as he is unattainable.

Jimin is like a light that shines away Yoongi's darkness, like an anchor when he starts drifting away. He is his source of strength when drained, and the reason Yoongi sometimes smiles so bright and wide it hurts.

Jimin is a friend as he is not, his actions indecipherable and his eyes full of secrets. His gaze burns a little sometimes and his touches linger a beat longer. His grins are shy and playful and his teases are endearing and ambiguous. Yoongi wants to kiss him, he wants to, but Yoongi is bold as he is a coward.

There are too many risks involved, but hasn't Yoongi always been a risk-taker?

He is in love as he is weary, and he is successful as he is not. Alcohol becomes his new best friend and he knows Jimin notices, but he doesn't say. Why doesn't he say? Can't he hear Yoongi screaming for him? But Yoongi doesn't cry, not for help anyway. Because you only cry for help when you think there's help to cry for.

Instead what Jimin does say, surprises Yoongi.

Yoongi stops fighting the turmoil in his heart when he is 26, when Jimin tells him in his way that he doesn't want him, that way.

"You should ask Ji-en out," Jimin says one day. Wistful. List down the all the reasons why Yoongi should. Jimin must think he is very observant then, if he can come up with a list. Yoongi thinks Jimin is as observant as he is blind.

"You really think I should?" Yoongi phrases it like a question but it's really more out of rhetorical spite. He doesn't want to ask her out, fuck, he wants to ask Jimin out. He has always wanted Jimin, maybe even loved him from the very start.

But Jimin nods firmly, and then grins so wide it blinds, but in a terrible way that makes Yoongi heart wrench, the pain cutting deep within, spreading through his fingertips and toes.

Fine. Maybe he should ask her.

Yoongi is a lot of things but he is also a coward. Yoongi is 27, and he is a coward. Yoongi is 27 and he resigns to fate. Yoongi is 27, and he asks Im Ji-en out for a date.

Everything else continues in A.

For a different ending, try O.

O.

It’s mad loud, even from within the compounds, even with the metal doors sealed shut. Jimin can still hear clearly, the chanting from the fans on the other side in the filled-out stadium.

Jungkook wears his headset mic, a playful grin tugging on his lips, “What? Cold feet?”

Jimin snorts, marches up to Jungkook and messes up his perfectly styled hair.

Jungkook barks out a laughter because Jimin’s gone to tickling him now. They continuously fool around even as they walk single file along the pathway to the back of the stage. Jungkook dodges Jimin’s jabs, grin splayed wide on his lips. Jimin attacks mercilessly, doesn’t let the fitting blazer over his silk shirt constrain the important task on hand.

The stage manager tells Namjoon two minutes and the platform rises, and Namjoon knocks his shoulder at Jimin’s back and they stop fooling around. They all gather in a circle, huddled and Namjoon says a few words which Hoseok echoes loudly. They shout bangtan, and hoot loud once and gather into formation. Taehyung, beside Jimin, makes funny faces and Jimin sticks his tongue out.

One minute, get ready! The stage manager calls out, an empty clipboard in his hand, tucked under his arm and Jimin uses the next thirty seconds wondering what purpose does it serve.

Jimin lets the cheers and screams ring at his ears and he stares into nothing in particular at the ground, waiting, feeling the beat in his chest starting to hammer. It’s been years but the nerves are always there with every performance. The adrenalin is buzzing in Jimin’s blood and he is desperate for this platform to fucking move.

Twenty seconds, Paul calls out again, and Jimin focuses his attention at the pair of leather loafers opposite his. He looks up and sees Yoongi, fiddling with his in-ear monitor. He’s clad in a velvet burgundy blazer and Jimin almost reaches out to see if it feels as soft as it looks.

Ten, nine—

Yoongi notices Jimin staring, and he thumbs at the in-ear once more before he drops his hand to his side. He stares back, face unreadable, and Jimin feels the blind of the grey contacts Yoongi’s wearing.

Seven, six—

And Yoongi still doesn’t look away, the corner of his lips twitching up. Jimin stares hard right back, unwavering.

Three, two—

The platform rises and their eyes remain locked with each other, in their slightly bent position. Yoongi raises his brows once, and Jimin can tell he’s biting back a smirk but Yoongi can’t drown out the look in his eyes. Jimin feels a tingle run down his back and his gaze grow hard but the fans’ scream goes an octave higher and ten times louder and Yoongi breaks eye contact, turning to his right as the beat of the kick comes in. Jimin glides to his left half a beat late and tunes his head back in the game, feel the rush of thrill running in his blood and lets the adrenalin take over.

The concert wraps up nicely for a second time in that city, and Jimin is happy to be back in his hotel room, finally alone this time, with a lovely king sized bed to sprawl on. He lets his phone play on shuffle repeat, the speaker sitting neatly on the desk beside his charging phone. He hums to the melody and grooves to the beat as he brushes his teeth, self entertaining as he sings incoherently with exaggerated expressions at the mirror.

The doorbell rings and Jimin stops breakdancing in the toilet, spits some foam out but doesn’t rinse. He looks through the peephole and the doorbell rings again, followed back an impatient set of knocking.

Jimin opens the door, surprised and confused to find Min Yoongi, with his hair messy and skin clear from makeup, in an oversized black hoodie that seems to drown his body out. The hem ends at his knees for god sake.

Jimin feels both dumb and lame with the toothbrush hanging in his mouth and he stares wordlessly at his hyung.

“Can I crash here for the night? Jin’s fucking cooking ramyeon and called Jungkook over. Who brings Taehyung. And I can’t sleep with them hollering at the top of their lungs and the longer I stay the more ways I come up to kill each of them.” Yoongi says it the way he always does when he’s asking for a favour. Offhand and casual, quiet and sort of soft. It’s like he tries to be nonchalant but pleading at the same time and Jimin honestly doesn’t know why it works but it does. He can see right through Yoongi every time, but he decides to let Yoongi keep his last shred of dignity, if being just a tad coy when asking for favours seem to be so hard for him.

Jimin’s heart soar in his chest staring at Yoongi, but it drops the next second and feels tight. Jimin steps aside and lets him in, and Yoongi tries to hide it, but Jimin catches the grin and the playful spark in his eyes.

Jimin finishes brushing his teeth on autopilot and he splashes cold water on his face for good measure, just to clear his head. It’s been a weird night, and Jimin doesn’t like the little flips his stomach is doing or the way his heart skips a beat and wrenches right after.

“Goddamn, this bed is huge. You sneaky bastard.” Yoongi grins widely when Jimin steps out. He sits right in the middle of the bed, legs parted and arms spread out.

“Yeah,” Jimin snorts a laugh and shrugs lamely. Walks towards the desk and checks his phone. Scrolls through every app he frequents and skips about twenty songs.

“I’m dead beat, I’m going to sleep now.” Yoongi announces as he plops down. He stretches himself and makes a snow angel on the bed, the sheets ruffle as he spreads his arms and legs back and forth.

“Ok.” Jimin says. Jimin lowers the volume and leans against the edge of the single-seater sofa next to the desk.

Yoongi lazily maneuvers his way under the blanket without getting up and tucks himself to bed. He shifts to one side and brings the blanket up to his chest and folds his arm, clasping his hands. He peers over at Jimin and flattens his lips and his cheeks puff out.

“You can leave the music on if you like.” Yoongi points. His hand hits the blanket and the sound reverberates in the room.

“Ok.” Jimin says. He usually doesn’t let the music play when he sleeps but he’s definitely leaving it on for the night. He doesn’t want the hammer in his chest to pound at his ears as he tries to sleep, or worse, have Yoongi hear it.

“Goodnight Ji.” Yoongi yawns and then turns to his side, facing the wall. He switches off the light at his side and reaches for a spare pillow to hug.

“Night.” Jimin says back softly.

They bunked all the time back in the days, even shared a sleeping bag together once and Jimin doesn’t know why he feels knotted all of a sudden right now. But the fatigue is wearing him down and he yawns unglamourously and cracks the bones in his neck and back. He pulls out a lofi hip-hop playlist and chucks his phone aside. Downs a cup of warm water before heading to bed and slides in quietly and switches off his bedside light.

When he awakes the next morning, Jimin’s not sure how to feel when he turns over and finds the other side of the bed empty.

Jimin is surprised when he finds Yoongi at his door again the next night. Jimin has his fringe pushed back with a pink hello kitty headband, just about to wash his face. Yoongi removes one side of his earpiece and grins slightly at Jimin. He doesn’t supply a reason, just asks, Jimin-ah can hyung sleep here for the night? And Jimin, rarely ever says no to Yoongi. Nods mutely just like before and steps aside. Again, he catches the grin Yoongi tries to hide as he bites his lip and waltz in.

When they travel to another city with new rooms, Jimin quickly snatches one of the two available solo rooms again. He half-expects Yoongi to grab the second keycard since rooming with Jin has met with a hiccup the previous time but he makes not even an attempt for it. Jungkook rushes to the counter and snatches it right before Taehyung could get his hands on it. He smiles smugly at Taehyung who scrunches his nose in response and retreats back to sitting on his luggage.

So Jimin is definitely surprised when he finds yet again, Min Yoongi at his doorstep at night (this time earlier) with a cap on and in a grey sweatshirt. Jimin isn’t going to say no, but he wants to hear what Yoongi has to say for him to have to come to Jimin (and why not Jungkook?) again.

And what Yoongi does say throws Jimin off balance. He doesn’t ask to sleep over, because he’s probably not going to. Fishes out a thumbdrive from his pocket and tells Jimin he has added a promising long list of movies. Wanna watch one together? I'll let you pick. He wiggles his brows like the last condition would ultimately seal the deal for him. Jimin is wondering how in the world does Yoongi storm his way through with such lazy confidence.

And Jimin is honestly tired, and looking forward to an early night. But Yoongi looks at him expectantly, the lopsided grin on his face pulling into a full blown one as the seconds pass. He finds himself saying sure, why not, and steps aside. This time, Yoongi throws a smirk in his face, visibly content as he strolls in.

Jimin picks out an action movie, and wills himself to stay awake, at least for the first half of it. They watch in comfortable silence, Jimin leaning against the headboard with a pillow on his lap, and Yoongi sprawled beside him, changing positions every now and then.

Somehow somewhere, Jimin realizes Yoongi plastered to his side, his head leaning against his hip. And Yoongi slaps, hard, at Jimin’s thigh or calf whenever something amuses him, snickering under his breath or barking out a laugh. Before Jimin knows it, Yoongi is lying on Jimin’s lap, and shifts every now and then, the top of his head propped with the pillow.

But when the credits roll and Jimin seriously needs to stretch his legs, he nudges at Yoongi. Who he finds is already fast asleep, his lips parted and his breathing even. Jimin can only painfully slowly, lift Yoongi’s head up so that he can slide his leg out, and then gently shifts Yoongi so he’s sleeping properly.

Again, the next morning when Jimin rubs his eyes and peers them open the other side of the bed is empty.

Jimin keeps getting surprised of the every other night Yoongi keeps showing up at his door, and he rather be surprised than disappointed. He half-expects it, the ring of the doorbell at a certain timing but he usually squashes it down and lets himself be surprised, than entertain thoughts of expected certainty and then get disappointed when it’s not the case.

Jimin keeps getting surprised every other night until he doesn't. Until it becomes regularity, second nature, normal. Until Jimin finds it absolutely normal and comfortable and doesn't get scared shitless over the little somersaults his heart does when Yoongi is around him.

Yoongi would come, every night, and they would watch a movie or two, or they would order room service and talk about how the concert went. Or either one of them would supply snacks and treats from convenience stores nearby and they would talk, sometimes loud and nonsensical, punctuated with chortles and guffaws. Sometimes it would be hushed and secretive, and Yoongi would get closer than necessary and Jimin would whisper so Yoongi can come even closer.

Jimin’s not sure how to feel, when he wakes up on a Thursday morning and finds Yoongi curled to his side, black hair matted to his forehead. Yoongi stirs slightly but doesn't wake and Jimin stares at Yoongi sleeping, as he tries not to drown under the waves of emotions that bubbles in his chest, and up his throat.

And ever since that Thursday morning, Jimin always wakes up to Yoongi by his side, sometimes plastered against him, sometimes sprawled across the other side of the bed. Sometimes he wakes up to himself curled up against Yoongi, his head against Yoongi’s chest and Yoongi’s leg thrown over his.

Jimin thinks he's getting too used to this, when he wakes up one morning and finds them entangled in an embrace, Jimin’s arm across Yoongi and Yoongi’s lips fucking pressed up against his neck, and he doesn't even flinch. His breath is warm against his skin and Jimin swallows a lump in his throat. He hopes Yoongi doesn't get jolted up by the slamming in his chest. Jimin tries to wrench himself free, as stealthily as he can.

But Yoongi grips at Jimin’s wrist and mumbles, “Sleep.” And Jimin listens, falls back into slumber.

Jimin never once paused and thought about the situation with Yoongi, never really thought about it, when he fell into the comforts and familiarity of having Yoongi there every night when he sleeps. It suddenly jars him, when they're having a day off and touring the current city they're in, and Hoseok makes a casual comment.

“I don't even know why Yoongi hyung doesn't just leave his things in Jimin’s hotel room. He practically lives, breathes, Park Jimin nowadays.” Hoseok waggles his brows. Namjoon laughs. Jin nods aggressively and complains how he's being a shit of a roommate. He warns Jimin dramatically that Yoongi is just using him and only has eyes on the king-sized bed. They don't comment if it's any weird having two grown men sharing a damn bed every night, willingly, on their own accord. Jungkook overhears their conversation and laughs because yeah I noticed it too hyung, although he must like you because he's never once come to me when I had a king-sized bed too.

Jimin doesn't ask Jungkook what exactly does he mean by like and is glad as hell that Yoongi is all the way in front, sharing ice cream with Taehyung.

And when Jimin starts noticing things, he can’t unnotice it. The way Yoongi would, without fail come to his room every night regardless what city they’re in, or how late it is. How Yoongi ends up taking an extra keycard to his room and sometimes in the middle of the night, Jimin groggy with sleep would feel the bed dip and the warmth of another beside him. Yoongi still rooms with Jin (and mostly Jin), but sometimes rooms with Hoseok and Taehyung or even with Namjoon but he falls asleep and wakes up with Jimin. His luggage is never in Jimin’s room but some of his things start appearing on the desk with Jimin’s things.

Jimin swears he packed that acid washed army green shirt the other day but he can’t find it, not in the closet, not in his handcarry, not in his luggage. He sees Yoongi wearing it during rehearsals the next day, underneath a black bomber jacket. Yoongi starts leaving his own clothes around Jimin’s room and it’s not like Jimin wants to, but he’s running late and it’s the first thing he grabs when he’s out of the shower.

And everything just feels so oddly intimate, when he sees Yoongi spending the whole day with everyone else but him and Jimin doesn’t even feel jealous or left out because at the end of the day, he knows the last person Yoongi sees will be him.

They have the day off, and everyone but Jungkook and Jimin decide to go a nearby theme park (much to the managers’ chagrin). Jimin is lazy and tired and he joins Jungkook in his room watching chick flicks and comedies. They order room service and Jungkook in his bathrobe, munches noisily on the food. Jimin lies on the bed, head at the other end and near the edge as he slowly stuffs food in his mouth. The movie plays in the background. Jungkook clears his throat, says he’s got something to ask Jimin. Jimin turns to his right, looks at the younger, and juts his chin.

“Hyung, are y’all fucking or something?” Jungkook asks innocently.

Jimin almost chokes on his spit. Doesn’t help that he’s practically upside down and coughs harshly once. Jungkook laughs.

“What the fuck, what are you even talking about?” Jimin pushes himself up, hates that his face is probably as red as the cherry tomato in Jungkook’s hand.

“Come on, I’m not blind. I’m not dumb. I bet the other members see it but they’re all too chicken to ask. So, are you and Yoongi hyung fucking?” Jungkook grins smugly, and throws the cherry tomato in the air and catches it swiftly in his mouth.

“I mean, I’m totally cool with it, just so you know. I think that goes without saying, but you know, just saying. In case you didn’t.” Jungkook blabbers.

“You know the other night, someone—I forgot who—was looking for Yoongi, and literally everyone just replied with Jiminie.” Jungkook adds on, laughing at the memory. Jimin honestly doesn’t see what’s so amusing.

“We’re not fucking,” Jimin says flatly. Jungkook tosses the cherry tomato back on his plate and lurches forward, “What?”

“We’re not fucking.” Jimin repeats, shrugging both arms. What’s so hard to grasp about that?

“Then what do y’all even do?” Jungkook cries in disbelief. He looks utterly disappointed.

“We talk. We do things like these. Random things. Things probably you and Taehyung do—”

“Oh no, me and Taehyung don’t just talk,” Jungkook interjects haughtily. Jimin throws him a dirty look. Does he want to know? No he probably doesn’t want to know.

“—And then we sleep.” Jimin finishes.

“Sleep?” Jungkook repeats.

“Sleep.”

“Sleep?” Jungkook cries again, his features marring into an unamused scowl.

“Yes we sleep Jungkook. We sleep. Not everything needs a fucking in the equation, boy.” Jimin says tiredly and plops back on bed.

“I’m not twenty anymore.” Jungkook mumbles.

“Sleep though. Like cuddling?” Jungkook eyes light up again. Jimin stares at him pointedly.

“Who’s the little spoon? I bet Yoongi hyung is the little spoon, aw.” Jungkook coos. Jimin shakes his head and rolls his eyes, just sighs. Jungkook guffaws then tosses another cherry tomato in the air. Jimin hopes he chokes on the tomato.

Jimin lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s not like he doesn’t notice how his body reacts when Yoongi is on stage, spitting rhymes and then he licks his lips. Or when they’re alone in the room and Yoongi’s hand brushes across Jimin’s thigh. It’s not like Jimin doesn’t stop thinking about pinning Yoongi to the wall and kiss the fuck out of him and every inch of his skin, when he comes out of the shower, obnoxiously with just a towel slung low across his waist, with water dripping down his chest and his hair swept back. Sometimes. But they’re just friends. Friends can cuddle and sleep. Friends don’t kiss and fuck.

“Sleeping though. Seems kinda boyfriend-ish.” Jimin hears Jungkook says.

Jimin wants to throttle Jungkook because now whenever he sees Yoongi he can’t stop replaying the conversation they had.

Are y’all fucking? Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s  thigh as he lies on his stomach, and Jimin has no idea what’s going on in the movie anymore.

Are y’all fucking? Jimin is going to scream at Yoongi if he has to pick up another article of clothing on the floor. He bends and reaches for his bucket hat and his butt gets slapped and Jimin almost loses his footing and grabs at the edge of the bed. He turns around, ready to chew off Yoongi’s head but Yoongi grins at him and sticks his tongue out then walks over to the phone and changes the song.

Who’s the little spoon? Jimin leans against the desk as he pulls out a new playlist. He gets pulled into an embrace, strong arms wrapping his chest and waist and he feels Yoongi’s lips on his nape. He almost drops his phone and swears his heart is halfway out of his chest.

Seems kinda boyfriend-ish, Yoongi’s breath is minty when he whispers in Jimin’s ear, “Goodnight Jimin.”

Jimin feels suffocated but he can’t say no to Yoongi and lets him crosses all boundaries, lets him do whatever he wants, keeps letting him wrap his arm over Jimin’s waist. Doesn’t pull away when Yoongi grabs Jimin’s arm and wrap it around his waist. Leans in further when he feels Yoongi snuggling close to his chest. Jimin feels suffocated, but he still sleeps better than he ever had in years, with Yoongi close to his side, with Yoongi all up in his space.

And suddenly it’s not enough, even as he’s all pressed up with Yoongi, all tangled up in limbs but it’s still not enough, still not close enough.

And it’s so effortless and easy, Jimin laughing as Yoongi teases him relentlessly, and they’re fiddling around in bed. Jimin can’t stop laughing at whatever’s coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and he can see from the sliver of moonlight streaming in, the smug content in Yoongi’s eyes.

It’s so effortless and easy when Jimin playfully punches Yoongi’s arms and he grabs on hold of both his wrists and Jimin buries his head in Yoongi’s chest. It’s so effortless and easy when the laughing dies down and he levels himself and he finds himself inches away from Yoongi. It’s so effortless and easy, as they’re staring into each other’s eyes quietly, breaths catching up and Yoongi swallows and parts his lips slightly.

It’s so effortless and easy, as Jimin moves in closer, and he feels Yoongi’s warm breath hitting his skin, and his heart slamming in his chest. It’s so effortless and easy, when he closes the gap and presses his lips gently, tentatively, against Yoongi and they kiss softly. Jimin wrenches his wrists free from Yoongi’s grasp and he slowly climbs on top of Yoongi, and they’re still kissing softly, slowly, exploring. Jimin wants the taste of Yoongi forever on his lips.

Jimin sleeps sweeter that particular night and wakes up fresh and energized. He’s nervous and excited and not sure what to say to Yoongi but he cracks open an eye to find the bed empty. His heart cracks and he feels horribly cold. But Yoongi emerges out of the toilet with a half-wet shirt and his hair pushed back with a hairband. He smiles at Jimin and Jimin smiles back.

Things don’t change, Yoongi still sleeps with him and he’s still there in the morning. But he doesn’t ever bring the kiss up so neither does Jimin. And whenever Jimin wants to talk about it the words die at his throat because he doesn’t want to lose Yoongi. He doesn’t want to lose this, whatever this is. But Jimin forgets they’re on tour and their arrangement had an expiration date right from the start. He keeps pushing it back, pushing the words away, putting reality off for as long as he can, but the days are coming up short and the nights turn into mornings quicker than Jimin likes.

The concert tour ends and they’re packing their luggage and the flight for Korea leaves tomorrow, and Jimin is still at a loss for words.

Yoongi sits besides Hoseok on the plane and Jimin with Taehyung two rows behind. He’s not disappointed but relieved actually, and rides out the last ten hours of feigned ignorance with Taehyung by his side droning on about his theories on parallel universes.

They reach Korea and they wait, with tired eyes and drained minds as their managers gather their luggages. As usual fans swarm around them, screaming and shovelling, and Jimin almost loses it when the flashes of the cameras sends his vision spinning.

They head towards the pick-up point, with three cars waiting for them. He watches in the distance, as his bodyguards shield him from handsy wailing fans, Yoongi all the way in front in his black coat and beanie and he exits the airport. Jimin speeds up but the crowd hinders his path. He feels hands on his backpack and he almost angrily pushes them away but turns to find an apologetic Taehyung, being squashed. Jimin pulls Taehyung beside him and holds his hands and a group of girls near them screeches enthusiastically. Jimin turns and glares, but it’s pointless when he’s wearing sunglasses and they are barely even fazed.

Jimin looks back front and sees from the tinted doors Yoongi getting in the first car. Their eyes meet, or at least Jimin thinks, for a moment as Yoongi ducks his head in the car. He doesn’t wait for anyone and slams the door shut and the car speeds off. Jimin feels the metaphorical slip of Yoongi from his fingers.

Everything else continues in B.

For a different ending, try P.

P.

It’s mad loud, even from within the compounds, even with the metal doors sealed shut. Jimin can still hear clearly, the chanting from the fans on the other side in the filled-out stadium.

Jungkook adjusts his headset mic, a playful grin tugging at his lips, “What? Cold feet?”

Jimin snorts, marches up to Jungkook and messes up his perfectly styled hair—

The doorbell rings and Jimin stops his solo performance to the audience of three walls and spits the foam out, but leaves the toothbrush in his mouth. It rings again and impatient knocking follows after. Jimin swings the door open.

He feels his heart soar and then his chest grow tight when he finds Min Yoongi outside.

He rarely ever says no to Yoongi, and doesn’t say no now either when Yoongi asks if he can sleep with him for the night, because Jin is crazy and cooking at this hour and invites Jungkook and Taehyung along. I can’t sleep with that noise Ji, so can hyung sleep here for the night? Jimin stares blankly at Yoongi, snaps himself out of it when he feels the foam trickle down his chin. He nods mutely and steps aside, and Yoongi waltz in, a small grin on his lips and a playful spark in his eyes.

Jimin finds Yoongi again the next night and he lets him crash over. And again, and again, and again. He keeps getting surprised until he doesn’t, until it comes normal and habitual. Until falling asleep with Min Yoongi pressed to his side, smelling fresh and minty is all that Jimin knows and needs to drift to slumber.

And Yoongi keeps coming, at first with excuses and reasons of a variety to supply but Jimin has always needed none for Yoongi to be close. It becomes second nature and Yoongi doesn’t even wait for Jimin to open the door, just comes in with  the spare keycard he has (how?).

Yoongi stops barging in unannounced when he walks in the same moment Jimin walks out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. And Jimin doesn’t miss the way Yoongi’s eyes doesn’t leave his body, and how he can’t stop fidgeting and swallows comically and snaps his jaw shut.

“You okay, hyung?” Jimin asks innocently. He changes in the open, whips the towel away, butt naked and wears his boxers. He doesn’t know, but hopes Yoongi watches the show Jimin puts on for him diligently.

“Yeah, I,” Yoongi starts, clearly distracted. Jimin turns when he’s got his boxers on and slides a muscle tank over his head.

“I, forgot something, I’ll come back—” And Yoongi spins, strides out the door so fast Jimin can’t help but chuckle.

Jimin thinks Yoongi is out for revenge when he’s on stage and rapping wildly, growling in the mic. He glances over at Jimin and bites his lips with lidded eyes and walks away, nonchalance dripping in his steps. When they’re dancing and Yoongi breaks formation just to face Jimin when he thrusts up in the air, the fire in his gaze burning Jimin. When he performs his part in cypher part 3 and he walks up towards Jimin, aloof and haughty, fingers gripping tightly to the mic, his other hand pulling his bucket hat lower so that all Jimin can see is his lips moving and tongue peeking out. And Yoongi strolls up in front of Jimin and grabs at his jaw when he spits, as you know, my voice will turn you on whether it’s a guy or girl, my tongue will make you come.

The crowd goes ballistic and the fans in front rattle the barricades so hard Jimin worries if it will break. Jimin wants to drop dead, or corner Yoongi till he’s got nowhere to run and break him like how Yoongi’s setting his skin on fire. But they’re still on stage and Jimin needs to stay professional so he collects himself and rolls his hips. He moans into the mic for good measure, because you’re not the only one who can play, hyung, and the screams are deafening in his ears. Yoongi stares at him, almost tripping on his words and Jimin is satisfied. Yoongi saunters off and interacts with Taehyung for the rest of the song.

And they go about like this for the next few weeks, both trying to emerge victorious in this game they play, to see who can rile the other up more. They barely interact during the day, and it’s not because they’re avoiding each other, but because they’re skirting around and teasing. Yoongi would take every opportunity he gets to touch Jimin: a slide of hand across his waist, a brush of shoulder against shoulder, and a notorious quick squeeze on his ass. Jimin returns the favour by wearing more sleeveless shirts, grabbing Yoongi by the neck whenever he can and letting their fingers brush, but pulling away the last second when Yoongi wants to loop them together.

But at night when Yoongi goes to his room they don’t act the way they do in the day. Yoongi is soft and quiet sometimes, or reflective and thoughtful. He grins, eyes crinkling and teeth showing and he’s not being playful or teasing but warm and happy. And Jimin doesn’t try to smother Yoongi with a sharp gaze with taunting eyes like how he would on stage. He looks at him like he is the stars in the skies or the blooming flowers in spring. He beams back, grin pulling wide and they fall asleep with Jimin’s arm wrapped around Yoongi.

Jimin wants to stay in bed forever, and bolt away at the same time when he awakes one morning with Yoongi pressed up to his side, lips slightly parted and fringe matted to his forehead. And he gets used to this, waking up beside Yoongi, sometimes both of them at far ends of the bed, other times cuddled up together. Jimin especially likes it when he finds Yoongi spread across the bed, lying on his back his head faced away and a hand on his chest. Jimin is lying on his stomach, his cheek pressed against the pillow, one arm extending out to the bedside table, another arm across Yoongi’s neck. Jimin scoots closer to Yoongi and loops his hand over Yoongi’s neck in a loose embrace. Yoongi doesn’t change his position, but he slides his hand over Jimin’s forearm and to his wrist, until he reaches his hand and interlocks them together and pulls it across his chest. Jimin hides a smile even though Yoongi can’t see.

Jimin tries to convince himself this is normal, that two grown men sleeping together and waking up together is very normal. It’s very friend-like if your perspective is friend-like. He would cuddle up to Taehyung. In fact they cuddle all the time in bed. He would let Taehyung hold his hand. But he would most likely push Taehyung off him if he was pressed up to his side, and being used as a human bolster. His heart would definitely not be pounding in his chest if Taehyung’s lips were grazing softly at his neck. His pants wouldn’t definitely not get tighter at the thought of Taehyung’s tongue licking at his neck. Jimin’s not sure if he should push Yoongi away or lean in into his touch. Fuck.

Jimin feels suffocated but he can’t say no to Yoongi and lets him crosses all boundaries. Doesn’t pull away when Yoongi grabs Jimin’s arm and wraps it around his waist. Leans in further when he feels Yoongi snuggling close to his chest. Jimin feels suffocated, but he still sleeps better than he ever has in years, with Yoongi close to his side, with Yoongi all up in his space.

And suddenly it’s not enough, even as he’s all pressed up with Yoongi, all tangled up in limbs but it’s still not enough, still not close enough.

Jimin replays his conversation with Jungkook like a broken recorder and he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to fucking kiss Yoongi. That well maybe they’re only sleeping but maybe he wants them to be fucking too, with how goddam pretty Yoongi looks. Jimin thinks the sounds he makes must be pretty too.

And it gets increasingly hard to be close to Yoongi and Jimin has to physically restrain himself from jumping Yoongi’s bones, from letting his hand snake to his pants. But Jimin doesn’t want to lose what they have, whatever this is. But Jimin knows everything eventually has to come to an end; 12 more cities and the tour ends and they’ll be on a flight back to Korea.

When Jimin laughs into Yoongi’s chest he doesn’t expect Yoongi to grab his wrists. He doesn’t expect their faces to be inches apart when he looks up. He doesn’t expect to see so clearly, from the moonlight streaming in the window how eager Yoongi looks. Yoongi’s staring back at him and Jimin is getting lost in his eyes. Under the moonlight it looks like there are flecks of gold swirling in his brown orbs. And Yoongi looks equally caught up with his breath as Jimin feels. The room is dead quiet except for the sound of their breathing mashing into one. Jimin swallows, and thinks fuck it and closes the gap, presses his lips against Yoongi.

It’s softsoftsoft and so sweet and warm and Jimin about loses it when Yoongi kisses back, slow and easy. Jimin breathes in Yoongi, minty and sweet and he breaks free of Yoongi’s grasp on his wrists. Yoongi fists at his shirt, pulls him closer and Jimin climbs on top of him. What starts of soft and exploring, slowly grows heated, as Jimin straddles Yoongi, and licks into his mouth. Yoongi sucks on his lip and Jimin groans into the kiss and it’s suddenly too hot, his blood going down south. Yoongi slides his hand over Jimin’s head and fists at his hair and Jimin starts rolling his hips against Yoongi. The kiss grow rough, and hard, and all Jimin can hear is skin against skin and Yoongi moaning. God, it goes straight to his dick and Jimin is desperate for more, and trails kisses down his jaw, down his neck, starts licking a stripe at skin there.

Yoongi hitches a breath and Jimin catches on his when he feels Yoongi thrusting up. “Stop, stop, Jimin, stop.” Yoongi rasps.

“Yoongi, I want you so fucking much.” Jimin whispers. He can berate himself in the morning on how needy he sounds but right now he is needy and he wants Yoongi so fucking much.

“Fuck, Jimin.” Yoongi curses and tilts his head back. Jimin takes it as invitation and goes back to planting kisses and sucking on skin at his neck.

“Jimin, stop—” Yoongi grabs at Jimin’s shoulders. But Jimin doesn’t stop and starts rolling his hips again which makes Yoongi huffs and he wraps his arms and legs around Jimin tighttighttight, squeezing him.

“Jimin we have to be up early tomorrow. Let’s just sleep first tonight.” Yoongi says.

And Jimin lets himself falls asleep, in Yoongi’s embrace.

They travel to a new country and prepare for a new setlist with some additional choreographies, and the schedules are so packed with shows lined up back to back Jimin is exhausted when he reaches back to his hotel. He won't blame Yoongi if he misses a night over, because Jimin doesn't have the strength in him to take another step and knowing Yoongi, it's definitely harder walking over to another room. But Yoongi still comes over and slides under the sheets with him. It goes on like this for days, Jimin dead to the world the moment his head hits the pillow. He so very much wants to pick up where they left off from the other night but he is so tired and his eyelids are so heavy and he knocks off almost immediately. He feels Yoongi pressing up close to him and Jimin scoots nearer and drifts to slumber with his head against Yoongi’s chest.

And when Jimin gets back his energy and is both jittery and excited waiting for Yoongi to come over tonight, because he’s fucking ruining him the moment he steps foot in the room, Yoongi doesn't come in until it's in the middle of the night and Jimin is too groggy with sleep to even care.

It goes on like this for days, and Jimin is almost on the verge of setting an alarm at three in the morning to catch Yoongi awake. He corners Yoongi one afternoon just before rehearsal starts, when everyone’s loitering about on stage and the sound manager is fixing the settings.

“Why do you come over so late?” Jimin starts.

Yoongi is sitting on one of the speakers mounted on the stage floor and he looks up blankly at him.

Jimin realizes it's probably the first time they're addressing the arrangement that's been going on for almost three months, and it suddenly feels weird talking about it out loud.

“I mean, you should just sleep in your room. Don't have to trouble yourself.” Jimin adds. He’s not demanding an explanation from Yoongi, he doesn't need one. He’s just curious. And they're not like together or anything, fuck, so maybe Yoongi doesn't really need to explain himself after all.

“It's no trouble?” Yoongi supplies.

“I just,” Jimin starts then stops. Yoongi raises a brow.

I just really want to kiss you again.

Jimin feels the words get stuck at his throat. The intro of spring day starts playing through the speakers.

“You just, what?” Yoongi presses on lazily.

Fuck it. “I just really want to kiss you again.” Jimin says. Wants to give himself ten million pats on the back for holding on eye contact with Yoongi.

Yoongi is expressionless and stares at Jimin. Namjoon’s backing vocals play on the speakers and Jimin kinda wants to run away now.

“You really want to kiss me again? Am I such a good kisser?” Yoongi asks, his face blank but Jimin can see the twinkle in his eyes and the smirk he’s holding onto behind his lips. Classic Yoongi. Jimin wants to push him off the stage. Jimin rolls his eyes with a grin and walks off.

Rehearsals go smoothly. For the first time in a long time Jimin wants it over and done with and retreat back into his room, and bury himself under layers of blankets. Because whenever he lock eyes with Yoongi, he’s staring at him with an innocent expression but his lips are little wet. Or he’ll let his tongue peek out a little, or he’ll swipe a quick lick over pink lips innocuously. Yoongi will try, and go out of his damn way to accidentally bump into Jimin, knocking at his shoulder, or brushing his arm. One minute Jimin has his legs parted, knees slightly bent, hips locked and his upper body isolated to the right, the next he feels hands on his waist and he’s losing his footing because Yoongi is losing his footing.

“Sorry, I tripped.” Yoongi makes a face and shrugs unapologetically.

And Jimin feels his heart on fire, his cheeks warm and he hates how much he’s actually liking Min Yoongi teasing him. Jimin is tongue tied and shy all of a sudden and swerving from Yoongi like he’s the plague. Yoongi knows Jimin is riled up and obviously enjoys the effect he has on him.

And Yoongi, being Yoongi, knocks into Jimin once more, breaching all sorts of personal space (like they even had any with each other since the last few months). He doesn’t look all that sorry when Jimin turns and glares at him pointedly, because Jimin doesn’t like the way Yoongi’s eyes dance wildly with smug when he apologizes. And Jimin knows he’s not at all sorry with the way he bites his lower lip after a beat long of staring and winks at him. Yoongi fucking winks at him, with his teeth tugging his lower lip then whips his head away. Jimin heart skips a thunderous beat and he is so close to setting the whole stadium on fire.

It's peachier when the stage manager wants Jimin and Yoongi to rehearse their joint performance today instead of tomorrow like scheduled. It's ok, he's a fucking professional. And Jimin is actually excited to perform this song because he likes it. Yoongi informs him offhandedly they're doing an acoustic version of So Far Away, just like how Jimin suggested three weeks ago, the excitement soars in him. He also feels a tug at his heart but Jimin ignores it.

Yoongi, together with the stage manager, Joseok, starts discussing about the performance, technical and stylistic wise. Joseok calls the two guitarists scheduled to perform together on the stage and Jimin watches at the front from the ground. Yoongi has an iced coffee in his hand, one arm tucked under the other. Yoongi pulls the strap of his snapback and the brim doesn’t cover half his face anymore. He talks about how he wants to try with one guitarist picking and the other strumming as he raps, and then when Jimin sings, either one guitar will be picking or strumming depending which one sounds best. Joseok asks if he wants additional instruments (“and why not keys instead, Yoongi?”) and Yoongi shakes his head before coming down the steps and sauntering towards Jimin.

Jimin doesn’t move, just lets Yoongi hover beside him. Yoongi instructs the guitarists on how he wants it to sound and he has a few ideas, so they start playing the first option and Yoongi listens. He sips on his iced coffee every now and then, gaze sharp and ears perked. Jimin looks at Yoongi and then back to the stage, lifts up one side of his beanie to listen better to the arrangement.

And then Yoongi walks up closer, with his left arm still tucked under his right, takes another sip of his iced coffee before he points at Jimin. Jimin waits for his question, and he listens intently, forming opinions (he quite liked the second arrangement better?), answer ready at the tip of his tongue. But what Yoongi asks is not an answer Jimin has readily supplied.

“So, on the scale of one to ten how good of a kisser am I?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin stares at him, feels his eyes bulging as the seconds pass because really? Jimin is fucking speechless, incredulous at the audacity of this man and he’s not sure whether to laugh or feel frustrated about it. And because Jimin is both incredulous and a professional, he creases his brows slightly and wordlessly walks away, far far far away from Min Yoongi, off to fetch a microphone.

Back at the hotel Jimin is a bunch of nerves, he keeps knocking into things or dropping things he might as well self-combust. He wants Yoongi to come over and at the same time wants to latch the door and lock him out. It's close to midnight but Yoongi’s still not here (not that Jimin minds, either way his heart won't stop hammering) and he still can't fucking sleep.

He feels his heart calming down as his mind gets distracted with the action movie showing on the tv, finally taking a thrilling turn. Also, the same moment the door clicks and Yoongi waltz in. Jimin wonders why he even bothers.

“Oh you're still up.” Yoongi says casually.

Jimin grunts.

Yoongi stands and stares at the screen, seemingly transfixed and removes his bracelets and rings. Puts them neatly on the desk. He cracks a laugh when the bad guys enter a red car set up for them and the airbags burst in their faces, when the one sitting at the driver’s seat steps on the pedal.

Jimin tries his hardest to ignore Yoongi’s presence. He's staring at his figure, so damn near within his reach and Jimin’s suddenly, what's that word? Shy. Fuck. Goddamn it Yoongi, why does he make him feel these things?

Yoongi finally plops unto the bed, his lower half on the ground and he climbs up slowly. “I’m deadbeat, I'm going to sleep.”

Yoongi says with his eyes closed and a cheek plastered to the sheets. Jimin tries to drown out the voice in his head screaming how cute Yoongi looks.

“Mmhm.” Jimin mumbles. He takes another look at Yoongi, who's unbothered to tuck himself to bed and rolls his eyes because he is not going to do that for him. Jimin switches off the tv because he's a considerate bedmate and gets up to brush his teeth, for the second time.

“You don't have to switch it off,” comes Yoongi’s slurred voice.

Jimin takes extra long in the toilet and pray to the heavens Yoongi is fast asleep the moment he is done, or at least is pretending to, and he can mope about it to Jungkook the next morning. Hasn't he been waiting to be alone with Yoongi since-? Jimin spits out the foam and rinses his mouth and stabs the toothbrush back in the cup.

Yoongi is still lying on his stomach when Jimin comes out and any other time, he would have thrown himself on top of the older. Yoongi would grunt but he wouldn't mind. Jimin knows he secretly likes physical affection. Just doesn't like it for the cameras.

Jimin scrolls and checks his phone, almost sends some messages to Jungkook asking for motivation (wow he must be desperate) and then decides against, tossing his phone aside and stomps back to bed. He switches off the bedside light and dips under the sheets. Yoongi stirs, and rolls to the side, then maneuvers himself, legs in the air and then under the sheets.

Jimin lies on his back, blankets up to his chest and he stares at the ceiling. Feels the pull and drag of his muscles melting to the bed and realized just how tired he actually is. So he shuts his eyes and tries to sleep. Turns to his left. Turns to his right. Lies on his stomach. Lies back on his back. Fuck.

Jimin repeats it for maybe about another twenty times, sheets ruffling as he does.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Yoongi drawls.

Jimin has his eyes remained shut and the spare pillow bolstered to his neck. “Oh really, what am I thinking then?” It comes out more snippy than Jimin intended, but being tired and not able to fall asleep puts him in a mood.

“I don't know you tell me.” Yoongi has the audacity to sound cheeky. That bastard.

“Well I'm not thinking about anything.” Jimin replies curtly, and turns away.

“Ok I see, but I am.” Yoongi says.

Jimin rolls his eyes and tears the pillow away from his neck. Producers. Lyricists. Creative geniuses. Bunch of drama queens. Jimin hits the bed with the back of his hand.

“Please, Yoongi, tell me what you're thinking about.” Jimin says sarcastically.

There's a long pause and Jimin thinks Yoongi might have drifted off to sleep. He turns to face him, and he sees that Yoongi’s just staring at the ceiling.

“That I really wanna kiss you too.” It's soft but audible, Yoongi’s deep voice hard to miss. Jimin feels his heart skips a beat.

Yoongi turns and looks at him, the darkness swimming around them but his eyes are clear with the sliver of moonlight streaming in.

Yoongi brings his hand from under the covers and scratches at the fabric. Jimin stares at him, hard, his heart at his throat and there's this electrifying moment between them before Yoongi reaches out for him and Jimin pushes himself nearer.

And it snaps.

The moment Yoongi grabs Jimin’s shirt, Jimin is on top of Yoongi, and they're kissing hard and rough. Yoongi’s trying to pull him even closer and Jimin’s trying to lead the kiss, skin against skin, his tongue swiping at Yoongi’s bottom lip.

Yoongi lets a breathy moan spill from his mouth and it goes straight to Jimin’s dick. It’s really hot and his skin is fire and he ruts up against Yoongi’s crotch. Feels great, damn it, Jimin feels his head swimming in a haze.

Jimin thrusts up to Yoongi again, and Yoongi rolls his hips back and the friction is delicious – it's still not enough but this is good, this is great, he can work with this.

“Fuck, Yoongi.” Jimin breathes.

Yoongi pushes Jimin up slightly and he sits up, leans against the headboard and claws at Jimin’s clothes. They don't stop kissing, actions frantic and desperate as they undress each other. Yoongi tugs his shirt over his head and Jimin presses kisses all over his neck and collarbone and chest. God, he's been waiting forever to do this. And it's like his body has a mind of his own – he can't stop marking Yoongi.

“Off, off.” Yoongi says impatiently tugging at Jimin’s basketball shorts which he slides off easily. A cold breeze washes over Jimin and it feels like a jolt of electricity along his back. He pushes hard into Yoongi and he hits the headboard and slots their lips together again.

Jimin’s straddling Yoongi, in nothing but his boxers and a growing hard cock. He rolls his hips against Yoongi’s crotch and feel his cock growing stiff and grins into the kiss. “Come on, Yoongi, don't hold back.”

Yoongi doesn't say anything, only lunges up and pushes Jimin back to bed, on the opposite end. Yoongi flings the blanket away to the floor and some things get dragged along and hits the ground noisily.

“What's that—” Jimin breaks the kiss, tries catching his breath.

“Do you wanna pick that up or do you want me to fuck you?” Yoongi rasps.

Jimin rolls his eyes and pinch Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi wraps a hand in his hair and lets Jimin lead the kiss, as his other hand snake down to his crotch and he gives Jimin’s cock a hard tug.

Jimin feels himself melt into Yoongi’s touch and his jaw goes slack. Yoongi pulls away, the glow in his eyes brightening and he sees the corner of his lips pulled up under the moonlight. Yoongi quickly sheds off his pants and throws it away and it hits at something. Probably the lamp. Something probably came off too.

“Yoongi,” Jimin laughs.

“What? I thought you liked it rough.”

Jimin pulls Yoongi back down again and presses his lips softly against his. Slow, exploring, languid. They thrust against each other in a pretty rhythm, solid yet soft. Jimin snakes his hand down and squeezes at Yoongi’s thigh and slide his hand under Yoongi’s brief. He thumbs at the leaking head and swipes at the underside before giving it a good squeeze.

Yoongi moans.

“Louder,” Jimin demands. Tries stroking his cock despite the constraint.

“You first.” Yoongi rasps and swats Jimin’s hand away, brings it both up to above his head and shifts him across the bed.

Yoongi tears away Jimin’s boxers and flings it away and he’s suddenly feeling cool and hyperaware that he's stark naked. Yoongi bites and nibbles at his collarbone and moves up, trailing kisses till he reaches his mouth again and kisses him hard. Jimin’s cock spring up to his stomach embarrassingly but Yoongi makes no comment of that, just strokes it lazily and slowly, pressure just right and Jimin feels his brain short-circuiting.

“Yoongiyoongiyoongi,” Jimin groans out, unashamedly, loves the way it tastes on his tongue, loves how wreck he sounds.

“Fuck, Jimin.” Yoongi growls.

One minute Yoongi’s fisting him, hard, the next Yoongi’s thrusting up against him, cock bare, slick and wet. It smells like sex.

Yoongi usually smells like mint or fruity but he smells a lot like musk and sex right now. Jimin is dizzy with lust, and it feels so fucking good he can't stop.

“I wanna suck you off,” Jimin breathes.

“What—”

“I wanna suck—” Yoongi squeezes his balls and Jimin feels his eyes roll back. Shit, he needs some sort of control.

He claws at Yoongi’s back, and his arm and somehow manages to flip them over. Yoongi’s now on his back and very surprised (and also very turned on, the way his eyes grow almost black says something), and Jimin towers over him.

Jimin pecks at the juncture connecting neck to shoulder, and licks a stripe up. He feels Yoongi knees go weak beneath him.

“Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse.

Jimin struggles but eventually succeeds pinning both of Yoongi’s arms above his head when he finally gives in. Yoongi exhales and laughs breathily. Jimin takes his time as he trails down, licking and sucking, ears ringing with Yoongi’s wrecked voice. So goddamn pretty. Fuck. Jimin wants to Yoongi to scream his name.

And it goes on for days, weeks - they steer clear of each other during the day, during rehearsals or the concerts (with minimized contact). But when they get back to the hotel they can't wait to tear each other off, can't keep their hands off each other, so much so they don't make it to the bed one time and end up fucking right at the dresser.

They're in a new city, a new hotel, but the scene is the same. It's either Yoongi thrusting in Jimin or Jimin thrusting in Yoongi. Tonight Yoongi has Jimin spread out prettily for him on the silk sheets and they have all the lights on and the doors latched. They're hoping the walls are soundproof because the other time Namjoon looked ridiculously scandalized and didn't stop eyeing them weirdly for days.

Yoongi fucks him slowly, his cock pushing in long and hard. Jimin feels his hole expands and he curls when Yoongi hits a spot that makes him feel hot and pleasure tingling at his groin and lower back.

“Fuck, Yoongi, god, feels so good—” Jimin is whispering, it feels so intense he can barely vocalize properly.

“Yeah babe,” Yoongi groans. Yoongi hoists Jimin's leg over his shoulder and Jimin swears his vision blurs the next second and his hips jerk up.

Jimin curses, a litany of colorful words punctuated with Yoongi’s name.

When they come they come together and Jimin is fucking losing it, his hips snapping up and then he hears Yoongi groan out I love you and then the high comes down and there’s static in the room. Yoongi kisses him on the lips slow before cleaning up and rolling off drained and sated and falls asleep naked, an arm loose around Jimin’s waist.

Jimin should be lulled to sleep, bones ached with exhaustion and bliss. But he doesn't sleep until three hours later, with Yoongi’s muffled I love you ringing in his ears on repeat.

Jimin should have known better. When you play with fire you get burned. He feels himself get burnt out when he wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. But a messy room. The memory of last night a mocking jab to his face.

Jimin doesn't think it that bad but the first night he sleeps alone, he can't. Everytime he falls asleep he jolts awake moments later. He tosses and turns until the fucking sun rises and the morning call rings. Jimin hurls the phone away and it dents the side of the wall. He hates that the first thing he thinks of when he wakes is Yoongi and the last thing he closes his eyes to is Yoongi. He even dreams of him. So pretty, so close yet so far out of reach.

Yoongi doesn't necessarily avoids him. He just speaks to him less. And Jimin can do that he's a professional. There's just five more cities, eight more shows and they're back on the flight to Korea. Back to their own apartments. Hiatus for an indefinite period. Jin is enlisting in army soon. Jimin can stay in his room forever, cease of interactions with Min Yoongi.

How do you fucking say I love you to someone, in the middle of sex (what the fuck) and then leave and pretend they never existed? Jimin wants to know, he’s still figuring that out.

Unsurprisingly, Taehyung intervenes after two weeks. Jimin is sprawled on the bed lazily, legs dangling above ground flipping through channels when he hears noises outside his room. A minute later, the door swings open and Yoongi gets shoved in. He looks between pissed and flustered, dressed comfortably and still in socks and the complimentary white slippers as Taehyung pushes him in.

“Fix this.” Taehyung says simply before he pulls the door shut.

“No one’s leaving the room until you both fix whatever that needs to be fixed!” His voice booms over the door.

Jimin’s still staring wide-eyed, taken aback at how his night has been compromised, and how his room has been involuntarily extended to an equally involuntary guest.

Their eyes meet and they hold gazes for a second before both of them break contact quickly.

Jimin turns to the tv, grateful there's some sort of noise to dial down the awkwardness looming over them like heavy dark clouds shading clear skies.

Everything sounded easier in his head. The big speech he prepared? Marvelous. His theatrical exit thereafter? Brilliant. Min Yoongi sprinting after him saying he’s sorry and asking him to stay? Icing on the cake. Ok, it's a stretch Jimin admits, but hey, everyone is allowed a little imagination once in a while.

Reality though? Reality is usually awkward and messy. Jimin doesn't know what to say so he’s not going to. Yoongi can be the first.

But ten minutes passed and Yoongi’s not even cleared his throat. Jimin steals a quick glance and sees that the older is now sitting on the ground, back pressed firmed to the wall. He’s got his head hung low and waiting. For god knows what.

And suddenly Jimin is pissed.

He feels something bubbling up his chest and it surges so fast before he computes it as rage, he’s shooting off his head.

“You know what? I'm sick of this.” Jimin starts. Yoongi snaps his head up.

“I'm so fucking sick of this. I’m done with running. I'm done with pretending everything’s fine when it's not. I'm done with convincing myself that I don't have feelings for you when I obviously do. Have been. Always. Always been there. And I hate that no matter how much it annoys the heck out of me when you leave your things around and I have to pick them up - I still want to.” Jimin gets up from the bed and walks towards Yoongi. He jabs the remote in his hand in the air wildly.

“That we’re running late and the members complain you’re so hard to wake but all I have to do is tug at your lips and give you a quick peck and you're up. That we get into disagreements and arguments but at the end of the day when we’re back in the hotel room everything’s fine. We’re so exhausted to our fucking bones but I see you again and I feel fine. I feel at peace. I feel warm. You hug me and I feel like I can conquer all my fucking problems. I fall asleep with you by my side and that's all that matters to me. I love singing and dancing so much but...I think I may love waking up to you beside me more.” Jimin trails off, choked up on realizations.

Fuck. Fuck he's in love with Yoongi isn't he?

The room is silent, except for the low lull of air conditioner in the background and the ironic cheery sounds of the tv. Yoongi’s still in a squatting position, but head tilted up so high Jimin think his neck might break. And he’s still silent.

Jimin shakes his head, a bitter laugh on his lips.

“Forget it. Doesn't matter. You're scared. It's okay. It's our farewell tour anyway. Our contracts’ are almost up. Nothing was made to be forever anyway.” Jimin tosses the remote on his bed then grabs his wallet and phone on the table. If Taehyung is still outside and wouldn't budge it’s going to get nasty. His fists are aching, his knuckles are getting itchy (he knows he's projecting but he can't help it).

Jimin strides to the door, hand reaching for the handle and he’s buzzing with adrenalin, he’s jittery and full of emotions. He honestly doesn't expect a jolt from the back to stop him from his tracks.

Yoongi grabs him by the wrist and pulls him, and Jimin isn't really doing anything to resist, just lets himself be tugged. When he spins around Yoongi’s pulling him so close and presses his lips against his roughly. Even with so many days apart from each other they don't forget the way they are with each other. It falls right back so easily, how they fit, how their lips slot, and Jimin kisses back just as hungrily, kind of annoyed at how easily weak he is with Yoongi.

Yoongi kisses him, pauses to breathe. Their foreheads rest against each other. “The first time,” Yoongi starts, then goes back to kissing Jimin. Jimin grabs his neck just as Yoongi grabs his hips.

“I said I love you,” Yoongi continues, pauses, let them catch their breaths for a while, the only sound that's ringing in their ears.

They kiss somemore, Jimin dizzy with the scent of Yoongi, and numbed with the sweetness of him left on his tongue. He slowly undresses Yoongi, sheds away the long sleeve and throws it aside.

“I meant every word.” Yoongi says. Jimin chases after the kiss and Yoongi licks into his mouth. He presses at his side and Jimin opens his eyes.

“I got so scared on how I meant every word. On how much I wanted to keep saying it to you. On how much I can keep saying it to you. I just.” Yoongi pinches his brows, trying to find the right words.

“I love you, Jimin. I fucking love you. I'm in love with you.”

Jimin stills, feeling his breath stuck in his throat. He’s staring right in Yoongi’s eyes, and he's watching how his orbs dance. The hammer in his chest is deafening in his ears and everything feels surreal.

“I love you, Park. Always has. Always will.” Yoongi whispers.

“Do you want me to shout on the rooftop because I fucking will,” Yoongi adds a beat later when Jimin still doesn't respond. He grins. Jimin feels a smile creep on his face and he rolls his eyes fondly.

“Who knew you're such a cheesy fuck,” Jimin slaps his arm playfully at Yoongi’s chest.

“I mean, I write songs after all don't I?” Yoongi wiggles a brow. His hand slides down to Jimin’s waist and he clasp his hands tight.

“You haven't answer my question you know.” Yoongi juts his chin out.

Jimin raises a brow.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Yoongi starts.

Jimin groans, wiggles in Yoongi’s grasp. “I thought we've been through this,”

“On a scale of one to ten,” Yoongi repeats, determined, his hold on Jimin going tighter.

“How good of a kisser am I?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Must I really answer?”

“Yes. Or we’ll stay stuck like this forever and l’ll probably freeze to death seeing how you have removed my shirt.” Yoongi answers as matter of a fact.

“Eleven.” Jimin mumbles.

Yoongi pulls him closer and Jimin turns his head away. “What? I didn't hear it?”

“Eleven! You idiot.” Jimin breaks free from Yoongi’s grasp and pushes him to the bed, grinning. I want to kiss you forever and ever.

When morning arrives the next day, Jimin is the first to wake. Yoongi is plastered to his side, drooling unglamorously on his shirt. He can get used to this, he really can. Or maybe he already has. The spark in his heart doesn't dim though. It only soars.

Yoongi stirs and cracks open an eye. He licks his saliva and Jimin frowns in mocking disgust. Yoongi rubs his eyes and greets him, voice deep and gravelly.

“Hey you.”

“Hey you,”

“You drooled on my shirt.” Jimin points out. Yoongi peers over at the wet spot a shy away from Jimin’s collar. Shrugs lazily.

“I thought you said you love me. You should love my drool too.” Yoongi snuggles closer.

“It's disgusting Yoongi.” Jimin deadpans.

“Yoongi, eh?”

“Yoongi hyung?” Jimin corrects. “U seem to like it very much when I was calling out Yoongi with my dick in your mouth.” He smirks.

“Brat.” Yoongi squeezes his thigh.

“What time is it.”

Jimin reaches blindly for his phone on the bedside table and knocks into three items before successfully reaching it.

“8:10.”

“What time is our flight?” Yoongi asks.

“1:50 in the afternoon?” Jimin supplies.

“Think we got some time for you to scream my name somemore?” Yoongi smirks and towers over Jimin the next minute.

Yoongi and Jimin sit side by side even on the flight back home. Taehyung raises his brow and shakes his head fondly then moves a seat back beside Jungkook.

They reach Korea after ten hours and they wait, with tired eyes and drained minds as their managers gather their luggages. As usual fans swarm around them, screaming and shovelling, and Jimin almost loses it when the flashes of the cameras sends his vision spinning.

He sees a hand stretched out in front of him and Yoongi’s back view, so Jimin grabs it and lets himself be tugged to Yoongi’s side.

Fans scream and screech and Jimin is radiating off heat but Yoongi smooths his thumb over Jimin’s knuckles and walks on with his eyes straight. Jimin turns to look at Yoongi, bundled up in his khaki parka, scarf, beanie and mask and Jimin suddenly wants to laugh. It's pandemonium around him but Jimin feels at peace. The fans can scream as much as they want but they will never really know anything, won't they?

Everyone has their secrets. This is theirs.

For a different ending, try—

(How are you writing your story and how is it going to end?)

END—