Chapter Text
It was an old habit of his.
Every time he reached any milestone, every time he made a dream come true, every time he created precious memories to cherish and protect inside his heart; he always tried to capture them with his old camera.
His first piano.
His first guitar.
His first day as a freshman in college.
The day Jihye and Jisoo were born, they both had to rush to the hospital and Jimin was so freaked out that he managed to leave the apartment still wearing his fluffy slippers. It goes without saying that Yoongi had to take at least one photo of his best friend, sulking in a hospital chair with his pink and furry slippers still on. He promised Jimin that he would never put the picture on display over his fireplace.
Of course, he was blatantly lying.
He didn’t lie, however, when he swore he would always stay by his side. The day Jihye and Jisoo lost both their parents in a terrible car accident, Jimin lost a brother and a beloved sister-in-law. Yoongi swore by everything he loved that he would always help him Jimin raise his nieces until they were finally able to take care of themselves.
There is a portrait of them over the fireplace, where the four of them are smiling at the camera, sitting under a Christmas tree shining with dozens of golden lights. The twins are wearing the two identical red sweaters Yoongi gifted them the year before, cheeks round and full of Christmas cookies baked that morning. Jimin and Yoongi sit behind them, Jimin’s arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, hugging him, keeping him close as his best friend stretches his lips in that singular smile of his – the one Jimin had always loved so much.
They weren’t particularly dressed up, but if you took a glance close enough, you would notice they switched clothes that day. Yoongi looked so soft in Jimin’s white wide-neck sweater that showed some bare skin of his right shoulder, and Jimin gladly agreed to wear one of his best friend’s favourite black turtlenecks.
That was their thing.
Since they first met in middle school, even if they always had different body types and styles, the both of them often found themselves wearing each other’s clothes. If by chance or other reasons, neither cared to find out. Sometimes they gave the clothes back, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes you could see them borrowing each other’s outfits like it was the most normal thing in the world, as if their senses of fashion weren’t so different from one another.
There is a picture of them over the fireplace, their hair covered with glitter and confetti and their cheeks flushed from laughter and maybe too many glasses of soju and champagne. It was the first New Year’s Eve Jimin wanted to celebrate years after the accident, one of the many they had spent together with their oldest and dearest friends.
They were inebriated, thrilled. Happy.
Maybe that was the reason they made that promise.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
« Yah, Jimin-ah! »
« Hyung, don’t scream, I’m right here … »
Taehyung’s New Year’s Eve party turned out to have way more booze than Jimin expected, leaving him with red and warm cheeks as well as a slight but persistent inebriation that followed him throughout the entire night. Sure, Jimin didn’t play hard to get when his ex-boyfriend – his gorgeous, sexy ex-boyfriend and every now and then friend-with-some-benefits Kim Taehyung – offered him a glass of champagne every time he popped open a new bottle.
Jimin felt Taehyung’s hand on his hips before and on the curve of his back after, the sweet and tempting promise of a longer night together. He felt his warmth and the jolt of electricity that sparked between them when they still were a couple or, as in most recent times, whenever they indulged in their shared weakness.
That night, however, Jimin’s attention was directed elsewhere. His eyes lit up when his gaze met Yoongi’s, when he saw his best friend walk through the front door with his mullet fresh from the hairdresser and a leather jacket as black as his hair. Jimin was the first to approach him, a spare glass of champagne held between his fingers paired with a warm welcome and the biggest smile on his heated face. Despite them living literally next-door for ages, Jimin often found himself missing his oldest and dearest friend at the most random times. That night, just being in Yoongi’s company was enough to make him happy.
What started as an “ordinary” party between friends soon became the usual mayhem their gathering always brought along: lots of laughter, lots of shared memories and too many bad jokes – the latter were Kim Seokjin’s courtesy, obviously. Jimin drank, laughed and smiled along with his friends, his family, and never left Yoongi out of his sight.
Why? He didn’t know. Maybe it was the champagne to be blamed, but that night Jimin saw his dearest friend under a different light. He looked at him like he was the most rare and beautiful thing in the entire world, laughing heartily when booze started to kick in and Yoongi quickly became the happy sozzled version of himself that appeared whenever he had too many drinks.
It was only a few minutes before midnight when Yoongi got closer to Jimin, hair ruffled with a single golden streamer intertwined with its tousled strands. There were glimpses of glitter on his flushed cheeks and a little smiley face drawn with a golden marker – the unmistakable sign of Hoseok having a couple of toasts with him minutes before.
« Yah, Jimin-ah! I had — I had an idea. It’s a great idea but it’s a secret. »
« Can you tell me? »
« .... No. It’s a secret. »
Jimin let out a frustrated groan and knocked down his champagne with a flick of his wrist and no hesitation. Despite being quite hilarious, a drunk Yoongi could also become a handful if he wanted to play hard to get. So, he switched strategies.
As Jimin put an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders he also made sure to turn his gaze as soft as possible, fluttering his eyelashes while pouting like a hurt puppy. Slightly awkward, maybe. But always effective when it came to softening his best friend’s edges and getting what he wanted.
« If you tell me this secret » he whispered « I promise I won’t tell anyone. It will be our little secret. »
Yoongi remained in silence like he was seriously pondering his offer, two fingers under his chin and lips pursued in a focused smirk. Adorable, indeed.
« Fine, fine, fine – I will tell you. Cross your heart and hope to die. »
« Don’t you think you’re overstressing this? »
« Yah, cross! »
Defeated, Jimin dragged his index and middle fingers over his heart to draw an invisible cross upon it and seal his oath. Pretty overblown for a promise of which he didn’t know the actual content yet, but he had always loved to think of himself as a daredevil in disguise.
Finally satisfied, Yoongi grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the party, still going strong and boisterous. His cheeks were still painted in that delicate shade of reddish pink, and Jimin had to resist the sudden urge to pinch them. Or kiss them. Kinda dangerous even for the most reckless daredevils.
« I was thinking. What if we turn thirty and we are still single? And not in love with anybody, I mean. What if — What if we end up with each other instead? I mean – listen, listen, listen, it’s not that you’re a second choice. ‘Cause you’re not. Not. OK. The thing... The thing is... You are my best friend. I’d like to end up marrying my best friend rather than, like, settle for some nobody I am sure I won’t like. »
At that moment, Jimin was left speechless. That was utterly unexpected, to say the least, and he didn’t know how to react. Their shared silence was soon interrupted by the beginning of the new year.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
One
As fireworks began to explode and shine high in the black night sky, their friends popped confetti and streamers covered with glitter. Jimin and Yoongi found themselves in the very centre of that colourful explosion. Surrounded by silver and gold, they searched for each other’s hands and never let go. Their promise was sealed in shared silence while music and cheering blasted around them, unspoken words and fingers grazing.
« I think this could be a good idea. But only if you will do the cooking for the both of us. »
« Yah, everyday? Do you know I have a job, too? »
« We will have pizza on Wednesday night and Indian food on Saturdays, I promise. »
« Take-away and booze night. With beer and soju. »
« I think tonight we had enough alcohol for the coming months. »
« Party pooper. »
Shortly after their exchange, they took the photo that has now its own special place of honour over Yoongi’s fireplace. Behind the picture, Jimin had written a small note with the pocket pen he always carried everywhere with him, a dedication he strictly forbade Yoongi to read. He took care of framing it himself – just to be sure.
« If we’re single by the time we both turn thirty, we’ll get married as we promised. Then you can read what’s written behind it. Promise? »
It was a pinkie-promise like when they were kids, but the electric jolt Jimin felt all over his body when their fingers met was as far as possible from the innocence of their childhood years. It was something deeper, more aware in a certain way of the mutual understanding of how important one had always been for the other. Saying I’m here. You can always count on me if you need to feel safe without speaking it out loud, knowing well that the other one would understand anyway.
Their promise may have been dictated mostly by alcohol, but Jimin never stopped cherishing it in the deepest and most tender part of his heart. He never stopped believing in it, not when they sealed their vow under blasting fireworks and the sparkle of confetti. How could he think there wasn’t magic in the air the very moment the new year came through their door with promises of a brighter future?
Jimin felt it under his skin, running alongside the blood inside his veins. He saw it behind Yoongi’s beaming eyes, mixed with the heat blooming over his cheeks.
They haven’t spoken about it since that decisive night, but Jimin was still hopeful that, when the day came, Yoongi would reach for him with arms wide open, ready to keep his word until the very end. They had spent most of their youth together – they were always together – they knew everything about each other. Every little secret, every irrational fear, every untold desire. Everything.
Yoongi had always been his most precious friend, the shoulder to lean on, the only one who always had good advice for him to follow. He was nice, wise, reliable, and probably the gentlest soul Jimin had ever met in his life. He was one of a kind. He was Min Yoongi. Sometimes, Jimin wondered what would happen if Yoongi, one day, found his soulmate.
What could happen to them?
What would Jimin do?
Would he be able to put aside his selfishness and take a step back?
He wouldn’t. He knows he wouldn’t.
Then, until that day, he would protect his illusion with nails and teeth because the last thing he wanted was to sink too deeply in his own delusion before crashing into cruel and merciless reality.
Wasn’t that kind of a contradiction? Maybe it was, but he was too focused on trying to protect himself from his own heart to care about such pettiness. He had his beloved nieces to care for, his job as a personal stylist, his friends, his everyday life with its small concerns and errands – anything to keep himself occupied during the day and night. Sometimes he took refuge between the arms of the man he had once loved body and soul when they still were young and careless - or passing lovers he didn’t know yet.
Everything.
Anything to relieve the torments of his heart.
Last September 13, Jimin turned thirty.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
« Uncle Jimin! Uncle Jimin! »
Jisoo literally squealed while bouncing on both feet as she ran over to him, her sleek black ponytail bobbing along with her head. She was excited to say the least, the ribbon she was holding in one small hand already looking like a crumpled mess between her fingers.
« Will Uncle Yoongi be here for Christmas? Will he cook dinner for us? »
The twins were elated at the mere idea of spending Christmas Eve with the both of them. Or maybe they were plotting some questionable plan to get Yoongi and him together. Who knows? Maybe the twins were dreaming of a sudden and romantic confession under the mistletoe. The happy ending. The famous The End” that gave a conclusion to every fairy tale about love and courage. The shared happiness, the promise of a future together, a wish finally granted years after years after they both agreed to their vows.
Maybe. Maybe.
Jimin, on the other hand, didn’t want to deceive himself yet.
« Who knows, baby girl, who knows? Uncle Jimin will surely ask him if he would like to spend the evening with us. Maybe he would like to see his family, too. »
That was a lie, and he knew that.
Yoongi already told him he wouldn’t join his family in his hometown that year. He had too much backlog to catch up with and he didn’t feel like travelling from Seoul to Daegu and back just for a night. Jimin felt sorry about that, obviously, but at the same time he was glad to be finally able to spend some time with him, the four of them together after so many months. Even if Jimin was a pretty decent cook himself, he still asked his best friend to help him prepare the whole dinner for the evening, from appetizers to dessert – a little feast that most likely would see them ending up napping on the couch by the end of the night. Sure, he could always use some help in the kitchen, but he also just loved when they cooked together.
He always did.
« Can you ask him? Can you ask him, Uncle? Please, please! »
Jihye joined them immediately afterwards, her round cheeks stained with chocolate and whipped cream, her afternoon breakfast ended probably only two seconds before.
« Have you girls finished your homework already? »
« All of them! »
« Even the math ones? »
« ... No. Can you ask Uncle Yoongi to come and help us? »
Smart, sly kids. That was an easy blow, knowing how boring Jimin had always found math and everything that had to do with it. He took a glance at the watch on his wrist and quietly clicked his tongue. By that time, Yoongi was probably already coming home from the studio, his face hidden under the hood of his sweatshirt and wireless earbuds in his ears. Maybe there was also a lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers, even though he had promised Jimin that one day he would stop smoking. Without telling the girls first, Jimin took his telephone from the pocket of his jeans and quickly opened the chat he had with Yoongi – who flaunted the cutest cat emoticon next to his name. Jimin’s courtesy, obviously.
✉️ you free 2nite? the girls are struggling with math homework + want to discuss xmas menu with uncle yoongi
✉️ uncle jimin got wine?
✉️ red one. you in?
✉️ as if i could refuse
As tempting as the idea of drinking with him was, Jimin had to bite down a sigh and strictly limit his reply to a couple of smiling emoticons and the time Yoongi could come visit them. In the meantime, the twins were back to their previous activities, totally unaware of the little surprise that was waiting for them. Yoongi, moreover, had this sweet habit of always bringing a small, simple gift for the girls: sometimes it was a book, sometimes it was a photo he took with one of his cameras, sometimes it was an old movie they could watch all together. That was Yoongi’s way of showing affection to them; besides always being there for the twins whenever they needed good advice or a hug at the right time.
They were lucky to have him.
« Uncle Jimin? Why are you smiling so big? »
How long had he been distracted, mindlessly looking at the screen of his cell phone? A couple of minutes or more, judging by the cute sneaky smiles on the twins’ lips.
« Who were you texting, Uncle Jimin? »
« Do you have a boyfriend? »
« Do you have a girlfriend? »
« When will we have a little cousin to play with? »
« Uncle Jimin, you are already thirty years old! You are getting old and soon nobody will want to marry you! »
OK, that was a cheap shot. How could anyone ever deny him a good marriage, come on.
« Yah! I’m not an old man yet! And no, I don’t have a boyfriend, I was jus– »
« UNCLE JIMIN HAS A BOYFRIEND! »
« WHAT’S HIS NAME? »
« Can we meet him? Can we meet him? Can we meet him? »
Jimin was actually about to stop them and explain, when the trio heard the lock click twice and familiar steps approach the kitchen, preannouncing the even more familiar face that greeted them with a gentle smile. The twins immediately ran towards him with the biggest grin on their small, round faces, jumping around and grabbing him by the long coat he was wearing.
“Uncle Yoongi, Uncle Yoongi!” they screamed non-stop until he finally reached into the pockets of his coat and handed them a handful of candies and chocolates wrapped in colourful candy paper. As the girls focused their attention on the candies Yoongi turned to Jimin with an apologetic nod, taking off his coat and scarf.
« Sorry for being a little early. Apparently, this was the only time I was allowed to leave the studio without any kind of problem popping out of nowhere. »
« Is everything alright? »
« It is. Still in time to help with the Christmas decorations and stuff? »
« Absolutely. Fancy some wine, Yoongi-ah? »
« It’s six in the afternoon, for fuck’s s- »
« Yah! Language! » Jimin screeched, waving his hand in the twins’ direction and panicking at the mere idea of them overhearing something even remotely similar to a bad word and, heaven forbid, learn it. « It’s six in the afternoon and I had to put up with an out-and-cut cross examination about me having an imaginary boyfriend. »
« You have a boyfriend? Since when? And most important, how did you set him up? »
« I don’t have a – you know what? Forget it. I’m not having this conversation and I’m not having it with you. »
Yoongi’s laughter followed him to the kitchen, where Jimin fumbled a bit inside the liquor cabinet until he finally found the specific Italian red wine he was looking for. Before Yoongi could make any objection, Jimin had already poured some wine into two nice glasses while Yoongi made him snicker by asking “Are you trying to get me drunk?” like an old, prude nanny.
As if Jimin could ever do something like that to anyone.
« Thought we would save it for later in the night. »
« Listen, math is a pain in the ass. I haven’t done fractions and such since school and I do deserve a glass of wine after having to re-learn all that again for the twins. »
« Yah, language? »
Jimin shoved him with a gentle nudge on his shoulder, giggling; but nonetheless handed Yoongi a glass and raised his own for a quick toast. No reason needed, just the simple desire to enjoy something good together. They drank in silence for a while, relishing the wine’s earthy flavour and cherishing the moment, until Jisoo came to them with pens and a booklet held in her small hands. The girl took her Uncle Yoongi by the hand and literally dragged him towards the kitchen island just to ask him to help her climb over the stool to finally grab the cookie jar that Uncle Jimin always hid from her. Chocolate chip cookies, for the record. Good for their tummies, really bad for their teeth.
As Jisoo got to her stool, Jimin immediately snatched the jar away from her greedy little fingers, grinning widely. His beloved niece protested by sticking out the tip of her tongue and folding her arms, outraged by such an offence. It took Yoongi less than five seconds to reach out for said jar, unscrewing its lid to quickly hand a nice, crunchy cookie sprinkled with chocolate chips to a very smug Jisoo. Much to Jimin’s delight.
« Tell me, Miss Jisoo. What’s my mission for this evening? »
« Me and my sister, we want you to help us build the best gingerbread house in the entire world! »
« This sounds really nice. Should I be the bricklayer? »
« What’s a bricklayer? »
« It’s the one who lays down all the bricks that are used to build a house, one after another, until everything is done. »
« Yes, I like it! And I will be the supervisor! The supervisor in charge! »
While the two planned out their ultimate gingerbread house, Jimin leant against the counter and kept sipping his wine without haste. It was nice to see them being so at ease with each other. It was good for the heart, even though it hadn’t always been like this, especially when his brother and his sister-in-law had the accident. When the twins lost both their parents in the span of one night and spent days after days, nights after nights crying and calling for their mom and dad while Jimin fought endlessly to resist the urge to cry and scream in pain himself.
Yoongi was always there for him, holding it together when Jimin only wanted to fall into pieces and surrender to an anguish so overwhelming that sometimes he wanted to drink it down inside some dim bar at the end of some unknown alley. It had been torture, and many times Yoongi himself had to personally drag him out of the pit he was slowly falling into. Yoongi had been his guardian angel until Jimin was finally able to fly on his own wings again.
An angel that kept following him like a good omen.
« Can we make the gingerbread house super high? » Jisoo asked Uncle Yoongi as she kept scribbling on her block notes, drawing enormous villas made of sweet gingerbread, candies and chocolate; with huge gardens made of sugar, marshmallow and sugar paste flowers. Jihye, intrigued by all that planning, hurried towards them and immediately grabbed a pencil herself to give her artistic contribution.
As the twins kept on drawing gummies, lollipops and jelly, Jimin and Yoongi slowly made their way to the small kitchen balcony, where Yoongi took a cigarette and his old Zippo out of his pockets, looking casual, like he hadn’t promised to quit over and over again.
« Rough day at work. »
« What a remarkable record of bad days you’ve had lately. »
« I know, right? »
A comfortable silence fell between the two of them as they enjoyed the view of countless city lights dotting the neighbourhood as if whole constellations had settled on every roof soft and comforting like a fresh blanket that smelled of hushed lullabies and delightful memories. He wanted to feel it before traffic, smog and countless shoes would irredeemably spoil it. He wanted to take Yoongi by the hand and play snowball with him like when they were kids and life was still carefree and easier. No work. No deadlines. No problems whatsoever.
What a dream would it be, to be there with him.
« Say, Jimin. »
« What? »
« Mind if I stay over on Christmas night? »
« Sure, no problem. The twins can sleep with me in my bed, we’ll be quite cosy anyway. »
« No need to do that. »
« What do you mean? »
« No need to bother the twins for that. »
Silence fell again between them Jimin felt a chill sliding down his back as Yoongi put out the cigarette against the bottom of his now empty glass. It was so quiet that he could hear the slightest sound, even his own swallowing around nothing. A silence he didn’t really know when to break. Like many times before, it was Yoongi who took matters into his own hands, picking up the thread for Jimin to follow.
« How about we go back inside? It’s nearly seven p.m. and the kids need to dine sooner or later. »
Jimin followed with a silent nod as Yoongi collected their empty glasses and headed to the kitchen. The twins were already waiting for them, proudly holding their gingerbread house project for Uncle Yoongi to give his opinion on its sugar gardens and marshmallow spring flowers. The expectation on their faces immediately became pure joy the very moment Yoongi told them how beautiful and smart it was. He immediately promised them that on Christmas Eve they would make it become real, complete with some Christmas music coming from Uncle Jimin’s stereo. Something that looked like a scene from Christmas movie Jimin had seen during the past week – something really sappy and a little cliché. And to be honest, lovely.
« What do you girls want to eat for dinner? »
« Tteokbokki! Tteokbokki! »
« Uncle Jimin always makes tteokbokki for dinner, I want to eat japchae! »
« Uncle Yoongi! Can you cook both? »
As the twins kept bantering about who got to decide what to eat for dinner, Yoongi looked in Jimin’s direction with a small, fond smile. He knew well that Yoongi would gladly indulge the twins’ whims about food and try his hand at cooking both dishes the girls wanted. Most of all, Jimin knew the next thing he’d do would be to offer his help in the kitchen. If possible, for the easiest tasks, like chopping vegetables and stirring them in the pan that Yoongi handed him only seconds later. Jimin knew how to cook, obviously. The problem was he much preferred to eat, especially when it came to Yoongi’s cooking.
Besides, everyone has their weaknesses, and Jimin was no exception to the rule.
« What about splitting tasks? »
« What about you doing all the cooking and me chopping and stirring stuff? Or, even better, what about me stepping aside, not bothering you as you get things done – and giving you a shoulder massage later? »
Yoongi didn’t give him an answer right on the spot. Instead, he poured a little more wine into his glass like he was pondering his offering. The soft smile on his lips almost suggested that he was being tempted by the idea – or maybe he was just trying to gloss over his question and change the subject of their conversation. Understandable. It was pretty risky of him, coming out of the blue with something so daring.
One or two minutes passed before Yoongi finally gave him a real answer, after indulging in a few more sips of wine, lost in his thoughts.
« Or maybe you could give that to me now. »
Caught off-guard by his comeback, Jimin froze in place, undecided about what to do or what to say next. He then did the first thing that came to mind, which was letting an awkward laugh slip from his wine-stained lips and running a hand through his hair, messing it up.
« With that oversized sweater of yours? You would only get a hint of my fingers against your shoulders, yet alone enjoy a massage. Come on, let’s get to work. When the twins get too hungry, they can get a little cranky, too. »
Even if he was looking the other way Jimin could still hear Yoongi’s hushed sigh, the one he always did when he was trying to suppress a smile. Maybe Yoongi was sending him some kind of signal. Maybe he was just getting crazy and sooner or later Jimin would have to deal with harsh reality and his own delusions.
As Yoongi prepped the ingredients and put oil into two medium-size pans, Jimin fought hard the urge to step over his own pride and hug him tight until Yoongi would be finally aware, body and soul, of how fast Jimin’s heart had always beat for him and for him only.
It would take so little to make it real. To finally speak his emotions and feelings out. To tell Yoongi the truth.
He just had to be less of a coward.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
Plain yogurt. Almond milk. Carrots. Pineapple. Apples. Lime.
When it came to smoothies and such after a good workout, Namjoon had his unbreakable rules.
The cafeteria guy soon ended up knowing his friend’s food habits by heart, getting his order ready as soon as he saw Namjoon heading his way. He always made sure to have something ready for Jimin, too: sometimes it was a small fruit salad, sometimes it was American coffee with ice cubes, sometimes a sliced club sandwich. Something good for him to enjoy after an hour or two spent in the gym with Namjoon being his personal – and a bit too dedicated – trainer.
The first time they met, Namjoon was in the middle of his afternoon shift. He’d actually managed to sneak inside the empty yoga classroom to finally read some pages of the book he slipped inside his gym bag: The Unbearable Lightness of Being, an old edition you could find only in the back of some old, dim bookstore with shelves covered with dust. And what a peculiar sight, that bulked young man so intensely focused on his book, leafing through its pages like it was a small treasure made of paper and ink.
Jimin was actually afraid to bother him by asking anything about how to plan his daily workout, even if he immediately noticed the badge pinned on Namjoon’s sweatshirt the very moment he entered the room. Jimin really didn’t want to interrupt the man’s short break between shifts and swore under his breath when his cell phone began ringing all of a sudden, startling him and the gym guy both. The latter looked around as if to make sure his supervisor wasn’t anywhere around, and once their eyes finally met, he closed the book and gave him a friendly smile.
« Good evening. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here. Do you need something? Do you have your training schedule ready yet? »
Jimin shook his head twice, still dumbfounded, and followed him to the front desk where Namjoon helped him fill in the personal data sheet and asked him to explain what kind of training he wanted to follow that month.
He sure had an aura, that man. Charming and reassuring at the same time, giving the vibe of someone you could always count on. Sure, he was really helpful, telling him where to focus and which exercises to avoid for the time being, at least until his body was trained enough to endure them.
Their friendship blossomed like this, between workout sessions and coffee breaks at the gym’s cafeteria, where they could slow down for a while, get something to drink, catch their breath and share something about themselves. Sat at their usual table, Jimin learnt more about Namjoon each passing day: about his lifelong passion for literature, his morning classes at Seoul National University, the family dog he always had a love-hate relationship with. He even showed Jimin some photos on his cell phone, smiling like a proud dad – here, that’s what Namjoon reminded him of, a young and smart dad. Maybe the guy didn’t have any children, though. Or maybe he did? That could be a tricky question to ask someone you just met and Jimin didn’t feel like risking yet.
They worked out, too.
Jimin soon found out that Namjoon gave a hundred percent both at life and work, and Jimin soon was doing push-ups like he never did before. He was dedicated to his job, the guy. Sometimes Jimin actually had to beg for reasonable breaks during their workout sessions, as Namjoon didn’t seem capable of running out of batteries nor energy. That day, they both agreed to end their workout earlier than usual and to stop a little longer in the cafeteria’s lounge.
Plain yogurt. Almond milk. Carrots. Pineapple. Apples. Lime.
Jimin kept repeating each word in the back of his mind like some kind of mantra, wondering if he should speak out or keep everything inside.
« Say, Namjoon-ah. »
« What? »
« How did you confess to Seokjin? »
His question seemed to take Namjoon by surprise, at least judging by the slight flush that appeared on the latter’s cheeks. He began playing around with his cardboard straw, clearing his throat like he was thinking about whether or not to give him an answer. That was maybe the thing Jimin adored the most about him, his soft sides that surfaced at the most random times, especially when he was asked to talk about his feelings or his dearest dreams. In that case, Seokjin embodied both of these things.
« Well, why are you asking me this right now? Did Seokjin say something to you? Did I mess something up? Why are you and your cousin always plotting shit up in the shadows? »
« Yah, yah, why are you freaking out now?! It’s OK, you didn’t do anything wrong, and Seokjin is looking for your Christmas present as we speak. It’s OK, it was just me being curious about it. »
« Don’t tell me you finally got over Yoongi-hyung. »
« What? »
« What. »
« Do you know? »
« Everybody knows. »
« What the actual fuck oh my god - »
At this point, the only thing Jimin craved was to dig a hole in the ground to bury himself in because that would be way easier than accepting the idea that literally everyone – his family, his friends and maybe the cafeteria guy too – knew about his hopeless and one-sided life-long crush.
Awkward. Oh my god, he was so embarrassed he wanted to die on the spot.
The twins were right. The twins were always right.
« Are you planning to confess soon? Oh, do it on Christmas Eve. No, wait, on New Year’s Eve! Just wait till Seokjin finds out about this- »
« Don’t take out your cell phone to text him or I’ll switch personal trainer. »
« You wouldn’t dare. »
« Try me, big boy. »
With a resigned sigh Namjoon raised his hands as a sign of surrender and came back to his healthy smoothie, his telephone still safe and sound inside his pocket, pouting a little like a child that had just been scolded. He smiled, though, when Jimin leaned in his direction to ruffle his friend’s hair and handed him half of his snack as a peace offering.
« Now, seriously. Are you finally doing this? Are you confessing your feelings to him after all these years? »
Jimin took a deep breath and shrugged, unsure whether to answer him or not.
What could he tell him anyway?
I love you like nothing else in the entire world. Would you ever love me back?
« I may not know love, but I’m aware there’s nothing easy when it comes to feelings and what scares the heart. But you have to be brave. You have to take the risk and accept the outcomes whatever they could be. So, this is my question to you. » Namjoon paused, the straw between his index and middle finger as he fiddled around with it « Are you ready for this? For putting your heart on the line? »
Jimin didn’t dare answer him.
He wasn’t ready, not yet.
Maybe he won’t ever.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
Christmas Eve always was an experience at the Park’s.
The twins always fell into an honest-to-god Christmas euphoria right before December 24, when their beloved Uncle Jimin finally hung the last red and gold decoration and gleefully announced that Christmas time could finally begin. The girls would then run to their rooms to wear their cheesy wool sweaters with silly and silly lettering like the ugliest xmas sweater I’ve ever got or all I want for xmas is food. All of them courtesy of Uncle Jimin, obviously.
By the time Yoongi came to their house the twins had already made some hot coffee for him to enjoy. Outside snow was falling hard and Jimin could only hope for Yoongi to join them as soon as possible and warm himself up to not catch a cold. Last time he did, Yoongi went to work nonetheless and was kicked out after three minutes for having scattered wet Kleenex all around the studio’s floor.
Needless to say, Jimin found that story particularly amusing.
« Is Uncle Yoongi staying here tonight? »
« Yes, that was what he told me. »
« Where will he sleep? »
« I told him to make you guys sleep with me in my bed, but he wants you and your sister to be comfortable in your bedroom. »
« ... So he will sleep in your bed? »
« I think so. »
« And where will you sleep, Uncle Jimin? »
Well, that was a question.
« We will figure it out. So, where’s your sister? Jisoo? Jisoo, can you come here? »
Jimin was actually about to get up and go in search of his other niece when somebody rang at the door. He got the perfect excuse to run to the interphone and make sure it was Yoongi at their apartment’s door. His knight in shining armour, indeed.
Jimin welcomed him with a warm hug. He was actually going to leave a chaste kiss against Yoongi’s cheek before coming back to his senses and covering up his faux pas with a cough and stammering a greeting in his friend’s direction. After laying Yoongi’s coat and scarf on the nearest sofa Jimin escorted him to the kitchen, where warm coffee and hot mulled wine were already waiting for them. He actually had to physically stop Jisoo from having a taste of the spiced red wine before, and he took a glance in the kid’s direction to make sure none of them would try another move towards the forbidden drink. He had to promise them both that they would be allowed to drink it when they both turn 21. An offer they couldn’t refuse.
They made a toast together – pouring some coke to make the twins happy – before starting to cook. Or, to be more precise, before Yoongi started cooking on his own while Jimin posed as his assistant, when he was just sneaking edamame beans from the bowl. Yoongi let them be, actually entertained by their shenanigans and harmless bickering.
Bulgogi. Bindaetteok. Cucumber salad and bomdong geotjeori. A banquet for four unfolded before Jimin’s and the twins’ eyes, leaving them with their mouths watering and fingers twitching in the attempt to resist the urge to start eating sooner than they originally planned. First the girls wanted to recite the poem they write that evening, then their beloved neighbours knocked at their door to wish them a merry Christmas and happy holidays, and then again some uncle whose existence Jimin had forgotten had to call them after like ages to wish them good and, since they were there, stick his nose in Jimin’s business. Do you have a girlfriend this Christmas? When are you going to get married? You are already thirty years old, you should hurry up.
Jimin snickered when Yoongi snatched the phone from his hands to mimic the static sound of a line cutting off and closed the call with a snort and handed the telephone back to him, giving him a wink and an amused grin.
« Next time it happens just tell them your boyfriend wants you to focus on him and hang up. »
Jimin swallowed hard around nothing and quickly put his phone away where it won’t bother them anymore and hurried to the kitchen table where Yoongi and the twins were waiting for him to start dining.
For the rest of the evening Yoongi’s words kept spinning in his mind like a never-ending rollercoaster, bugging him from a secluded corner of his heart which he couldn’t put his finger on. Did he mean something with these words? Did he want to tell him something by throwing the word “boyfriend” so casually? More than once Jisoo and Jihye had to shake him off his daydreaming, food held mid-air and, probably, the most oblivious expression on his face.
Was Yoongi trying to tell something to him?
When Jimin finally came to his senses the twins were already sitting under the Christmas tree, eagerly waiting for midnight to come soon and open their presents at once. Everyone got their gift, carefully wrapped and placed under the tree where a small group of colourful packages lay next to each other, the twins’ ones marked with small and lovely red bows. The one for Yoongi was wrapped in a golden satin ribbon, packed up by Jimin himself in the privacy of his bedroom while the stereo played Christmas carols on repeat to keep him company. He put his whole heart in it, letting his hushed feelings flow from his aching heart to trembling fingertips, as his mind never stopped thinking and thinking and thinking.
Would he like it?
Is this too much?
Jimin kept asking himself this even while Yoongi’s turn to open his gift came, when his best friend from years started to slowly untie the golden bow and ripped the bright red wrapping paper. Jimin kept repeating the same question in his mind over and over again as Yoongi leant in his direction to hold him between his arms without saying a single word. He didn’t say anything either. He remained in utter silence, frozen, arms mid-air and lips slightly parted. There was nothing wrong with an unprompted hug, obviously, but something in the air shifted the very moment Yoongi held him against his body, the very moment their cheeks touched. When he grazed his cheekbone with lips so warm and soft Jimin wanted to die, suffocated by his own selfish love, only to whisper against his skin a single and hushed
« Thank you. »
It would take so little to gently hold Yoongi’s face between his own trembling hands and kiss him, slowly and tenderly, in front of the kids and inside walls that never stopped witnessing the silent pain of his hidden love.
It would take so little to make it real.
He just had to be less of a coward.
He just had to bite hard into life instead of running away from it.
« You are welcome. »
It would take so little courage.
He just had to shoot his shot.