Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The problem with loving someone was that, sometimes, fear disguised itself as care.
And Jimin had been afraid for weeks.
At first, it had been simple.
Yoongi came back after the surgery, and everyone naturally organized themselves around him. Namjoon carried heavy things before Yoongi even looked at them. Jungkook would appear with water or food. Taehyung kept him company in comfortable silence. Seokjin made sure he ate. Hoseok practically supervised him whenever he did the recommended exercises.
And Jimin...
Jimin had been worse.
Much worse.
"Hyung, I'll do it."
"Hyung, wait."
"Hyung, don't lift that."
"Hyung, sit down."
"Hyung."
"Hyung."
"Hyung."
During the first few days, Yoongi only rolled his eyes.
Then he would smile a little.
After that, he started expecting it.
Because it was Jimin.
It was Jimin handing him a warm cup before he even had to ask.
It was Jimin adjusting a pillow behind his back during movie nights.
It was Jimin frowning while straightening the sleeve of his sweater because, "You're going to get cold."
It was Jimin looking at him as if he might break.
And even though one part of Yoongi found all that attention exhausting...
Another part—the stupidest part—treasured it far too much.
Because Jimin was like that with everyone, sure.
But not like this.
Not exactly like this.
Not with that look in his eyes.
Not with his hand lingering an extra second on Yoongi's shoulder.
Not with that habit of sitting a little too close.
Not with that softer voice.
Not with him.
And that was the problem.
Because Yoongi already had enough things occupying his mind without adding impossible feelings to the list.
And that day had already been awful before he even got home.
The studio had been exhausting.
Not physically.
That would have been easier.
But everyone had been watching him.
Everyone.
The producers.
The staff.
People constantly coming and going with that damn worried expression.
"Are you okay?"
"Don't push yourself too hard."
"We can do it."
"Get some rest."
As if he had forgotten how to do his job.
As if Min Yoongi had stopped being Min Yoongi because of a surgery.
As if he had suddenly become fragile.
As if he needed help breathing.
And by the time he walked into the apartment, his jaw was already tense.
He was already tired.
Already irritated.
He heard quick footsteps.
Of course.
Jimin.
"Hyung? You're home late."
Yoongi slowly took off his shoes.
"Mm."
"Did you eat anything?"
"Mm."
"Did you take your medication?"
Silence.
A very brief silence.
A very dangerous one.
"...Hyung."
Yoongi closed his eyes.
"I was going to take them."
"'I was going to take them, means you didn't take them".
It wasn't a harsh scolding.
It wasn't even an argument.
It was just Jimin using that soft, worried voice that usually made Yoongi's chest do very inconvenient things.
But today...
Today it felt like another hand holding him back.
"You have to take care of yourself."
Yoongi set his keys down on the table.
"I know."
"Because you're still recovering and—"
"I know, Jimin."
"Hyung, don't talk to me like that."
Jimin looked at him for a moment.
And something in his expression shifted.
Just a little.
"I'm worried."
Ah.
Ah, no.
Because that voice...
That voice was going to make him feel guilty.
And Yoongi was already too exhausted to feel guilty too.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not, because for days you've been trying to do things that you still—"
"So what do you want me to do?"
The words came out louder than he intended.
The apartment fell silent.
Jimin blinked.
Yoongi saw it immediately.
The small flinch.
The tension in his shoulders.
And still, he couldn't stop.
Because he'd been swallowing things down all day.
All day.
"What do you want me to do, Jimin? Sit around? Wait? Let people carry things for me? Let everyone look at me like I'm useless?"
"Hyung, I wasn't—"
"Everyone's been doing the same thing for weeks."
Jimin parted his lips slightly.
Then closed them again.
"I was just trying to help."
"Well, stop."
Silence.
Complete.
Horrible.
The words took approximately one second to feel like a punch.
One.
Two.
Three.
Jimin stopped looking at him directly.
And Yoongi felt his stomach drop.
Because he knew that expression.
He knew it far too well.
It was that small thing Jimin did whenever something hurt him and he didn't want anyone to see it.
His gaze lowered slightly.
He smiled.
And God.
God, Yoongi hated that smile.
"I understand."
He didn't sound angry.
That was worse.
So much worse.
"Jimin—"
"No."
For the first time since Yoongi had come home, Jimin interrupted him.
He looked up again.
And his eyes were shining just a little.
Just a little.
But Yoongi noticed.
"I'm sorry."
He let out a soft laugh.
And it hurt to hear it.
"I thought I was helping."
And before Yoongi could say anything else...
Jimin simply walked to his room and closed the door.
Not forcefully.
Not loudly.
Without shouting.
And Yoongi remained frozen in the middle of the living room.
Because something horrible had just happened.
Something much worse than a fight.
Because Jimin never closed doors.
Never.
And for the first time since he came back...
The apartment felt empty.
Very empty.