Archive of Our Own

(Lovely art for this fic by Lith)

     Swish-swish, swish-swish, swish-swish…

     The little blue flatbed creaks to a stop, its windshield wipers whipping back and forth in a losing effort to clear away the downpour pelting against the glass. Yoongi double-checks the note on his dashboard again, then ducks his head to squint out the window at the apartment building he's parked in front of.

     Well, this is the right address. With a resigned sigh, he opens the door and makes a run for the entryway, startling a stray cat that had been huddled there. Yoongi frowns as he watches it disappear into the alley. Despite his best efforts, his mover's vest and cap are both pretty darn soaked. 

     Oh well, hopefully the client won't mind too much. He can't stop the rain.

     At least the place is warm inside. It's an older complex, but still nice, the scent of old construction and new carpet mingling in the warmly lit lobby. Yoongi jabs the elevator button and shuffles inside, trying to make himself halfway presentable in the reflection of the elevator’s shiny walls.

     The moving order had been a bit unusual. Or rather, the timing was unusual; placed by a Kim Yunseo, asking for help moving one person’s belongings from this building to a dorm room at the arts university in the next district over. One room’s worth of items, already packed, and no furniture or anything requiring a second mover to lift—which had better be true, because Yoongi is in no mood for heavy lifting in the rain. 

     This kind of order would be the moving company’s bread-and-butter at the start of the school year, the kind Yoongi had worked too many times to count since taking this shitty part-time job to help make it through school. But why would someone be moving to campus now, on a random Saturday well into the grey days of February...

     The elevator lurches to a stop, and to Yoongi’s surprise he finds a pile of bags and suitcases already waiting by the apartment door for him. He eyes them with a frown and gives the door a knock.

     “Hello? Ah, you must be the moving guy?” A sharply handsome man who looks to be in his mid-thirties answers the door. Yoongi glances downward at himself, where ‘The Moving Guy’ is printed across his vest in big orange letters.

     “Mhmm. Yeah, that’s me.” He gives a flat-lipped smile and a thumbs up, because something about the way the man is appraising him feels rather judgmental, and nothing brings Yoongi’s inner dork to the surface quite like social scrutiny.

     “Well, you’re late, so I went ahead and brought Jimin’s stuff out. I’m Kim Yunseo, by the way.”

     “Nice to meet you,” Yoongi lies, since he’s pretty much decided this guy’s an asshole. “I’m sorry but you know, It started raining really hard halfway here. I had to drive slower.”

     “Noon means noon in the professional world.”

     Yoongi squints at the man. “Uh-huh. Is the stuff out here everything?”

     Yunseo stares at the pile for a long moment before answering. “Sure. More than everything. I bought him most of that shit.” He’s still staring at the boxes, biting his cheek. It sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to Yoongi. “Bad investment.”

      “Okaaay, well,” Yoongi puts on his most uninterested face and hoists the first two trash bags of stuff over his shoulder, “I’m gonna get to work. Gotta make up for lost time.”

     Ignoring whatever gets said in reply, Yoongi heads for the elevator. Not that he gives a shit, but nothing about this job is making more sense after having met the man who placed the order. It's weird.

     There’s no way the guy is old enough to have a college-age kid. And hadn't he said this Jimin was a he? So that rules out a breakup, even though the weird atmosphere is way more similar to the breakups he's worked. And it would be kind of unlikely that a guy that much older would be close enough friends with some college kid that they would go so far as to room together.

     So maybe brothers? 

     Yoongi likes to think he’s above getting invested in drama like this—he’s a mature twenty-one, after all—but it's enough of a distraction that he doesn't notice the building door starting to open before he's already shouldering through it. 

     It's funny, how a moment you'll remember like a movie scene for the rest of your life can happen so suddenly, so fast, in the middle of a completely un-memorable day.

     There's a panicked yelp at the same second that Yoongi's momentum meets air where previously a closed door had been, and in the next second he finds himself sprawled with the trashbags across the pavement, staring up through the rain at the most angelically beautiful girl he's ever laid eyes on.

     “Oh—oh my god, I'm so sorry!” She yelps, already extending a hand to help pull him up. Her voice is a little deeper and huskier than he would have guessed, but it pitches up in worry when Yoongi keeps laying there like a dumbstruck loser. 

     “...s’okay.” He mumbles, lost in those soulful brown puppy eyes, perfectly rimmed in mascara and shadow.

     “You didn't hit your head, did you?” She asks, worrying her ridiculously lush bottom lip.

     “Wha?—ah, no, I'm fine.” Yoongi answers, cheeks burning when he realizes he's left her hanging. Her worry breaks into a relieved smile as he finally takes her hand, and Yoongi is beaming back at her before he can stop himself. It's one of those embarrassing smiles that shows his gums and makes him look like a kid, he just knows it.

     There's no time to wallow in how lame a first impression he's making on who he's pretty sure must be the love of his life, because the girl hoists him up with an ease that would be alarming if Yoongi could think past all the butterflies the show of strength sets off in his middle.

     “Ah, thanks.” Yoongi manages a polite little bow once he's on his feet. He's a late bloomer when it comes to noticing girls, given that his first real crush on one started less than sixty seconds ago, so this is uncharted territory. Still, he has his wits about him enough to hold the door for her, and she sends him a shy smile and a ‘thank you’ as she passes inside.

     Yoongi goes back to loading his truck in a daze. There's a phrase repeating in his head, from a foreign movie his mother used to watch that he never cared for, but apparently some part of it stuck with him for whatever reason.

     “You have bewitched me, body and soul.”

     That's definitely what that girl did to him just now. Body and soul got bewitched. Darn it. Just like that.

     The lobby is empty when he returns, and he curses himself the whole elevator ride back up for letting the angel disappear without at least giving her his number or something. God, Yoongi has no idea what he's doing.

     The pile left to be moved is really not much at all—most of this Jimin kid’s clothes must have been stuffed in the trash bags he'd already taken down. All that's left is a backpack, heavy by the looks of it, a bedding set, and a couple of unlabeled moving boxes.

     Yoongi is stacking the boxes, trying to calculate how much he can get in one trip without his arms giving out, when his brain finally registers the steadily rising pair of men's voices from inside the apartment. At first it's indistinguishable, but whoever is inside seems to be getting closer to the door as the disagreement escalates.

     “Why won't you answer me!?! Yunseo, please—” The first voice is high and youthful, but ragged with hurt, and probably anger, too. There's a long pause, another ‘please’.

     “Okay, fine! Just listen to yourself, Jimin!” The second replies, obviously the man Yoongi had introduced himself to earlier. “There's you're fucking answer! ‘please, please, please,’ you sound like a twelve-year-old!”

     “I just want to know why—”

     “Oh, grow up, kid.” Even through the door, Yoongi winces at the venom in the older man's words. He hears the younger voice—the Jimin he's helping to move, evidently—reply that he's not a kid, but Yoongi doesn't particularly feel like sticking around for more so he hurries to the elevator. If he's lucky he can get the rest in one trip and keep himself out of whatever the fuck is going on here.

     Once the boxes are safely loaded in the truck and Yoongi has returned for the last items, he’s really starting to think he might make it. Backpack slung over his shoulder, he's just gathering the pile of bedding into his arms when the apartment door flies open.

     Well. No lucky escape today.

     He can't really see whoever it is over the fluffy blankets he's carrying, but as they hurry past him to reach the elevator Yoongi is baffled to recognize the knee-length skirt and blonde ponytail of the girl he'd seen earlier. His beautiful future wifey. 

     Except there's something very different about the way she's carrying herself now. Yoongi can't quite put a finger on it, but her movements as she jabs the elevator buttons are somehow heavier, rougher. As he draws closer he can see that her makeup, so perfect before, is now streaked as if she's been crying. 

     None of this makes any sense. Yoongi is fully planning to walk straight past her towards the stairs and just risk falling to his death trying to carry all this shit down them, because he's not emotionally prepared to be trapped on an elevator with her. Hell, he's not sure he even wants to know why she came from that apartment, or how she fits into all of this. 

     But then, her gaze meets his, watery and tragic and so utterly stunning. God, Yoongi really is hopeless.

     “Uh. Sorry.” He whisper-mumbles as he shuffles his way on. She doesn't answer, just stares at him with those puppy eyes. Her adam's apple bobs. “Ah—I’m just gonna—” Yoongi reaches for the ground floor button, only to find that it's already selected. “Yeah. Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck instead, cause what else is he meant to do with his free hand. He's not usually this bad at being a person.

     The ride down is shaping up to be one of the more awkward silences of his life when the girl finally speaks up.

     “That's my stuff.”

     “O-oh?” Yoongi frowns down at the bedding, more confused than ever. He shakes his head. “It said Jimin.”

     “Uh-huh.”

     The elevator pings as the doors open. Yoongi must not be making his brightest expression right now because she rolls her eyes and says, slowly, “I'm Jimin.”

     “Oh. But I thought, um…” He must have misheard Yunseo. But then, he could have sworn the upset voice he heard behind the apartment door was a guy…

     Unsure of what else to do, Yoongi heads for the moving truck, leaving the girl to tail after him through the rain. She watches on as he gingerly sets the bedding and backpack under the rain cover with the rest of what is, evidently, her belongings.

     She looks so damn sad, standing there with her shoulders slumped, paying no mind to the rain that's drenching her hair and washing away the tear streaks of mascara on her cheeks. Yoongi can't help but feel like such a massive piece of shit for his part in all this, even if it's really not his fault.

     Well… Even if he's sometimes scruffy around the edges, Yoongi’s eomma raised a gentleman. Company policy be damned.

     “I’m supposed to be taking this stuff to the art school dorms. Is that where you live?” He tries. She’s looking back at the apartment, drawing a shaky breath before answering.

     “Apparently. Yes.”

     “I could give you a ride?”

     It’s another moment before she replies, finally tearing her gaze from the building to look Yoongi up and down. She’s definitely just trying to decide if he’s safe, but Yoongi still does his best to fix his posture and stand a little taller. Her mary janes have quite a bit of heel on them and it’s not doing him any favors in the height department. She must think he looks friendly enough, because she shrugs.

     “You’re just going straight to the dorms?”

     “That’s the plan.” Yoongi grins, twirling the keyring around his pointer finger.

     “Okay then. Thank you.” She gives him a polite little head nod and starts off around the truck to the passenger’s side. It’s a bit of a dash to make it to the door before her, but the barely-there giggle Yoongi gets for holding it for her is more than worth it.

     He slides into the driver’s seat while Jimin frowns at herself in the fold-down mirror, tutting at the smudged black beneath her eyes. It’s probably not the appropriate time to tell her she’s still the most beautiful girl in the whole world and maybe all of history ever, so Yoongi bites his tongue and starts the engine. It’s just that he forgot he’d had some hip-hop station at full blast on the drive here, and suddenly the cabin is filled with an angry rhythm and a string of perfectly rhymed expletives.

     “Ah, sorry—” Yoongi frantically paws at the volume button till the cabin is silent again, save for the rain plinking against the roof.

     “Who was that?” Jimin asks. There’s something addictive about the soft huskiness in her voice.

     “Uh, I dunno.” Yoongi shrugs, even though he can recite that particular song bar for bar. Hip hop has been the backing track of his life ever since he discovered it, back when he was a grumpy little twelve-year-old with a chip on his shoulder and a foolish belief that he could grow up to be anything he wanted. Maybe even a successful hip hop producer.  

     Ha. Even now though, with that dream looking particularly bleak, the music is still burrowed into Yoongi’s soul. Probably for good, as much as his parents hate it.

     “Can you put it back on?”

     Yoongi turns to her, surprised. “Sure, yeah of course!” He turns the dial and the beat fills the cabin again. It’s hard not to bop his head along with it, but if he’d thought this girl might be the one before, the stakes are suddenly so much higher. “You like hip hop?”

     He catches the barest hint of a grin, a quick sparkle in her eyes as she turns back to the mirror, trying to wipe away the last of the makeup. “Yeah. I love this.”

     They arrive at the dorms much too quickly. The rain has nearly stopped by now, but still, neither of them seem to be in a hurry to get out of the truck.

     “Oh.” Yoongi leans forward to squint at the placard on the dorm building. This must be the wrong place, because it very clearly says ‘Men’s Dormitory’ under the donor’s name. He checks the note on his dashboard, but it’s a match. He even checks it again, and the sign on the building too, just in case he’s losing it. So his boss must have written the address down wrong?

     A musical little giggle interrupts his thoughts, and he turns to find Jimin watching him with an eyebrow raised, biting back a smile.

     “What’s wrong?” She asks, eyes widening innocently.

     “Sorry, uh.” Yoongi’s not sure why he suddenly feels shy, heat creeping up his cheeks. “I think we got the wrong address, do you know where your dorm is?”

     He gets another giggle in response, which is a massive improvement over the sullenness at the beginning of the trip, so Yoongi counts it as a win even if he’s not sure why he’s being laughed at.

     “This is right.” Jimin answers.

     “It’s a mens’ dorm.”

     “Yep.” She pops the ‘p’.

     Yoongi just blinks at her.

     “Do you really not know?” She asks, her voice dropping lower with a slyness that is just, insanely attractive. The only thing Yoongi knows at the moment is that he’s probably gonna fall in love if she keeps looking at him through her lashes like that. She laughs again, so pretty.

     “Know what?”

     Jimin slouches back in the seat, letting her legs spread in a decidedly un-ladylike way beneath the skirt. She crosses her arms, the sleeves of her button-up shirt pulling awfully tight across her biceps, which are—wow—well, she might even have Yoongi beat there. Somehow even that is stupidly attractive. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then,

     “I’m a guy.”

     Yoongi’s mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’ but nothing makes it from his brain to his mouth for a good long while, till he finally manages to stutter out an “o-okay.”

     “Okay?” Jimin teases, like she—he—didn’t just tilt the whole world on its axis.

     “Yeah. That’s cool.” Yoongi’s palms are sweating. It’s actually not cool at all. Now that he’s looking, it does seem kind of obvious. The handsome jawline, the prominent adam’s apple, the boyish voice, and the muscles—oh god, the muscles. Jimin is the most beautiful guy in the whole world and maybe all of history ever. If Yoongi’s parents thought the rap obsession was bad, just wait till they find out their son likes boys now.

     “Well then, can you do me a huge favor and look out the window for a minute? I gotta change.” Jimin asks, already popping the first button on his shirt. He seems to be taking some delight in whatever Yoongi’s face is doing while his brain is away.

     “You—what!?”

     “I can’t go in there dressed like this. Do you mind?”

     “...Uh yeah, go ahead.” Yoongi shifts himself away, letting his eyes wander over the rain puddles and wet grass and soaked pavement outside the window. There’s a soft rustling of fabric behind him, and Yoongi pouts as he thinks. Who the hell is the world to tell him he can’t be into a boy, anyway? The Jimin in the cabin with him now is the same person he’d been pledging his life to five minutes ago, just as pretty and magnetic as when he had been a she for all Yoongi knew.

     So what difference does it even make? Yoongi’s frown gets deeper the longer he thinks about it. Somewhere behind him a zipper gets pulled down, and Jimin lets out a soft grunt as he fights with whatever piece of clothing he’s working to get out of. Yep, that pretty much settles it. Society can get fucked.

     “Alright, I’m good.” Jimin chirps. He’s in a plain white tee and a pair of basketball shorts that he must have had on under the girl clothes, holdable little hands smoothing over the folded skirt and shirt in his lap. “I’ll help with carrying everything.”

     “Oh, okay.” Yoongi can’t stop looking at him in wonder, but he tries his best to be professional. “You don’t have to though, the job’s already paid for.”

     “Ah.” Jimin bites his lip and looks down at his lap. He must be remembering who exactly had paid for the move, and he seems to deflate. “No, it’s fine. If I help we can probably get it all in one trip.”

     He’s right, and in no time at all the two of them are standing in an empty room, all of Jimin’s things in a sad pile on the bed. It’s clear that Yoongi is no longer needed here, and that the other man needs some time alone, judging by the way he’s not meeting Yoongi’s eyes, fidgeting with a loose thread on his bedding. He’s clearly in no state to be hit on, but Yoongi thinks he won’t ever forgive himself if he doesn’t at least do something. Fate will have to do the rest.

     He scribbles his cellphone number down on a sticky note and hands it over. Jimin looks up at him with those same surprised puppy eyes. “If you ever, uh, need help moving again. Don’t hesitate to call.” He says, already backing towards the door.

     “Oh. Alright, thank you. I will.” Jimin gives a polite little nod, and Yoongi steals one last second to try to memorize the pretty man before he pulls the door closed behind him. He takes a deep breath.

     So, he’s gay now.

     On to the next job, then.

~~~~~

     “That high hat is the most obnoxious thing I've ever heard in my life.” Yoongi says, suppressing a smirk because he knows what's coming next.

     To his left, Hoseok groans.

     To his right, Namjoon scoffs, not even hesitating for a second before taking the bait. “Just say you prefer your beats muddy and shut the fuck up. Fucking dramatic.”

     “Such profanity…” Hoseok tsks, but they both ignore him, the three of them walking on up the street towards home after a long day's work.

     “My beats are not muddy. Don't project, we all know you're a great producer, Namjoon-ssi. You have no reason to be insecure.

     “I'm not being insecure! You're being dramatic!” Namjoon’s voice pitches high enough it cracks, and when Yoongi copies the comical sound under his breath the younger man looks like he's about five seconds from resorting to physical violence.

     “Aish girls, you're both lovely!” Hoseok says, with a loud clap on both the bickering mens’ shoulders as he puts himself between them. He sends Yoongi an especially stern glance, one that seems to say you started this.

     Which is only half fair, since one could also definitely say that Namjoon started it by being so insistent on that obnoxious drum layer that has been the source of an entire day’s worth of professional disagreement.

     Graduation had come and gone, and it had only taken Yoongi a few months to score what was quickly shaping up to be his dream job. Sure, it was a much smaller production company than most of his peers had bragged about joining, with a shoestring budget, only a few senior producers, and the three of them; budding production hopefuls with practically no professional experience between them. 

     And sure, it’s meant he's had to coexist in very close quarters with the brilliant overgrown asshole beside him, since they’d decided early on to cut costs by sharing an apartment between the three of them. But even if Namjoon leaves his laundry in the machine till it turns musty and needs rewashing, and even if Hoseok chides Yoongi for his own housekeeping habits more often than his mother ever had, Yoongi still feels incredibly lucky.

     Already, he has more creative freedom than he really knows what to do with, and even if Bang-ssi apologized for the pay, it's a hell of a lot more than Yoongi had made from any of his old part time jobs back in school. He's throwing everything he has into his work now, and he's never been so bone tired, or so deeply fulfilled.

     It just sucks so bad that their boss's solution to the squabbling had been to make them produce a song together. It would almost count as torture if Namjoon wasn't so fun to piss off.

     “Okay, I have an idea.” Hoseok announces, as the three of them pile into their apartment. “How about we make a rule that you two don't work on your song at home?” It's framed as a question, but the sharp look he gives has them both nodding.

     “Whatever, I call shower.” Namjoon grumbles, already hurrying down the hallway with his unnecessarily long strides. Yoongi shrugs and heads to the kitchen to start on kimbab. Hoseok parks himself on a stool to watch. He's silent for a bit too long, which is never good. Then,

     “You know, Min Yoongi, I think it's interesting that you and Namjoon have been at each other's throats since we were hired, and yet…” He pauses for dramatics, which Yoongi ignores, “Here you are, making him the biggest portion.”

     “I mean, he is the biggest.”

     “Uh-huh. I’m almost starting to think you don't hate him.”

     “Yah…” Yoongi makes a shooing gesture in Hoseok’s direction, frowning at the big dumb kimbap roll he made for his big dumb coworker.

     “I think you're being friendly to him. Almost like you're nice.” Hoseok nudges him. If he's not careful he's going to get a kimbab right in that heart-shaped grin.

     “Sounds fake.”

     Hoseok groans and plunks his head against the counter in defeat.

     It's not long before Namjoon returns from his shower and the three of them descend upon the food. This time, it's the other two doing the squabbling, since Namjoon evidently couldn't be bothered to towel off his hair and the water drops are upsetting to Hoseok's sensibilities. Yoongi's attention is strictly for the meal—he’s turned into a damn good cook if he does say so himself—so everything that isn't food sort of fades into the background.

     “...Are you gonna get that, or?”

     “Huh?” Yoongi looks up blankly, mouth full of food.

     “Your phone, dude. It's been ringing.” Namjoon points at the cellphone on the table between them, the screen lit up with an unknown number. 

     If there's one thing Yoongi can actually say he hates about his job, it's that he feels compelled to answer these unknown callers that he would have sent to voicemail without a second thought before. Because what if it's someone in the industry, any one of the many connections they've all been working so hard to foster.

     “Hullo?”

     “Um, hi, yes,” The voice on the other end is high and a little husky. Unfamiliar, but it tickles something in the back of Yoongi's mind. “I’m needing some help this weekend, or the next would be fine I guess, if that's too short notice.”

     “Uh…” Yoongi's brow furrows.

     “I’m a returning customer, actually, so my information might still be on file? I'm just going back to the same address you moved me out of.” There's a musical little giggle at that, and something about it makes Yoongi sit up straighter. He's still lost, though.

     “Um—” 

     “O-oh, no, sorry, it would be under my friend’s name I guess. Kim Yunseo?”

     “Er—” Yoongi's pretty sure he doesn't know anyone by that name, but his mind scrambles to try to place it. “May I ask who's calling?”

     “Oh, sure! I'm Park Jimin.” 

     Across the table, Namjoon and Hoseok glance up from their food in mild interest. Yoongi tongues his cheek; he's still lost as hell but that name does almost sound familiar. Is it someone in the industry? Someone he should know? His silence seems to give the person on the other end of the line pause.

     “Um, sorry, this is The Moving Guys, right?”

     “Ohhh…” Now Yoongi is even more baffled. How did this person even get his number, from a job he hadn't worked in almost a year? “No, I think you must have the wrong n—”

     It's then that the sweet voice suddenly brings to mind puppy eyes, a sad pout, blond ponytail, biceps… It hits him like a lightning bolt, straight through the heart. 

     Wifey. 

     Yoongi jumps to his feet and scrambles for a pen and paper, heart pounding. It's him.

     “Wait! Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

     “Park Jimin?” 

     Jimin, yes, how could he have ever forgotten the name of his beautiful gay awakener. 

     “Ah, yes of course! This weekend you said? Ten A.M., yes certainly. How much stuff are we talking? Uh-huh, okay. I'll be there!” 

     Across the table, Hoseok and Namjoon are both looking at him like he's crazy, but Yoongi could not care less. He's gonna see Jimin again!

     Oh god, he's gonna see Jimin again. Yoongi nibbles on his lip while he waits for an answer on the dorm intercom. A group of college girls giggle and bat their lashes at him as they walk past, so he must not be looking too bad. Still, as he fidgets with the hem of his basketball jersey, Yoongi can't help but worry that he might have made a mistake dressing to lift boxes instead of wearing something nicer.

     “Come on up!” A friendly voice chirps through the intercom, and a few short moments later Yoongi finds himself holding his breath as a dorm room door swings open to reveal Park Jimin himself, dressed down in grey sweats and a form-fitting white undershirt. His hair is dark now, but just as long as before, still held back in a ponytail. There's no makeup around his eyes this time either, skin aglow with nothing more than his natural effervescence.

     It's funny, because Yoongi more or less knew what he was bracing for this time, and yet the sight before him is still enough to render him speechless. If this were a few hundred years ago, Yoongi would already have thrown himself worshipfully at the feet of this beautiful god in sweatpants. It feels like the right thing to do. Instead he just stares like a useless lump, mouth ajar.

     “Oh!” Jimin giggles, holding the door wide for him. “You're the same guy they sent last time! Hi!”

     “Hi!” Yoongi melts. He doesn't even care how dopey his smile must look. Jimin remembers him.

     “Come on in, um… Sorry, I don't remember your name.”

     Ah. So not that memorable, then. It's fine. “I’m Yoongi.” He answers, with a small pout. 

     Jimin leads him inside to a neatly stacked pile of cardboard boxes, each labeled in perfect handwriting. Definitely a few trips worth, but nothing too bad. 

     “I’ll help carry everything down.” 

     “Oh no—hnggg—it’s fine.” Yoongi grunts, hoisting the first box. So maybe the last several months holed away in an office have turned his arms a little noodley. “I can get ‘em, won't take me long.” He does his best to give a reassuring smile under the weight of the box, and gets the prettiest tinkling giggle in reply as Jimin hurries to get the door for him.

     He's pretty sure the giggles are at his expense, but he'll take it.

     By the time he's nearly done, Yoongi’s muscles are burning a little more than he remembers and he isn't sure his lower back is ever going to be the same again, but he does his best to hide it as he trudges through the door for the last of it. Jimin had offered to help a few more times, and Yoongi had turned him down each time. 

     Few customers had ever offered to help back in Yoongi's mover days, so Jimin certainly is a proving himself to be a sweetheart—unsurprisingly—but this is about more than just getting the job done, helping a guy out. No, this is about wooing. So it's to that end that Yoongi flexes his arms and hoists the last box. He clears his throat softly.

     The other man had been standing by his window, looking out over the courtyard between the dorm buildings, maybe lost in thought, but he turns at the noise. It's such a needlessly graceful movement that Yoongi almost sighs out loud. God, this guy is so damn pretty he doesn't know what to do with himself.

     “You want a ride?” Yoongi asks, grinning over the box, trying not to look too hopeful.

     “Oh, sure! Thank you!” Jimin grabs the last two items left in the room—his phone and a keyring with a cute plush dinosaur on it—and skips over to Yoongi's side, bringing a breeze of floral cologne with him. He seems almost giddy, a sharp contrast to their first meeting, and the mood is infectious.

     It really is the loveliest day in Seoul. The air is unusually clear, with a fresh breeze carrying billowing clouds high above the city. The mid-day traffic isn't half-bad to drive in, buying a grateful Yoongi the chance to get lost in easy conversation with the man in his passenger seat.

     It's not far enough into spring for uncomfortable heat, but far enough for all the foliage to be in bloom. Jimin seems to have bloomed right along with it, cherry-blossom pink rising across his cheeks as he chatters and giggles about nothing and everything. He seems not to notice he's carrying the conversation, and Yoongi is more than content to listen.

     The city is beautiful. Jimin is beautiful. Yoongi thinks the whole world might just be tinted rose.

     “Oh, can you pull off here?” A small hand tugs at his sleeve, and Yoongi shakes himself back to reality.

     “Huh?”

     “Just for a second, I just—” Jimin rummages around in his backpack, pulling out a baby pink bag. “I just need to touch up real quick.”

     They can’t be more than a few streets from their destination, but Yoongi pulls the truck to the shoulder and flicks on the hazards, watching in curiosity as Jimin quickly sets to work brushing smokey powder over his eyes, dabbling pink across his cheekbones. 

     “Do you do that a lot?” Yoongi asks after a quiet moment, even though it’s obvious the other man is quite familiar with makeup.

     “Mmm, I do now. It’s funny, I never would have touched the stuff before I got with Yunseo, and now I’m a pro.” He drags a glistening pink gloss across his lips and Yoongi thanks gods he doesn’t believe in that he’s not driving at the moment, because the way those lips bounce back after the pressure would have caused a wreck. 

     “Yunseo?” Yoongi asks, as a vague recollection comes back, from the first time he’d helped Jimin move. The older guy, who Yoongi is pretty sure Jimin had been moving away from, that time. The guy who made Jimin cry. “Your, uh, friend?”

     Jimin tucks his makeup bag away with a sly giggle, gesturing for Yoongi to get the car going again. “You know he’s not just a friend, right?”

     “Uhhhh… Uh-huh.” Yoongi frowns at the road. He’s not sure he knows, and he’s not sure he wants to know. Something about his response must be funny, because Jimin throws his head back and gives a laugh that’s pure sunshine.

     “He’s my boyfriend, you know.”

     “Oooh. Okay.” Yoongi’s heart sinks straight down to his toes, but his passenger seems too giddy to notice.

     “Okay?” He gives Yoongi a playful push with his elbow, and Yoongi does his best to school his features into something he thinks looks pleasant enough.

     “Yeah, it’s cool.”

     That starts Jimin laughing all over again, bringing an unwilling twinge of a grin to Yoongi’s lips as well. 

     “You said the same thing when I told you I was a boy. Are you really cool with it?”

     “Yeah, ‘course. I’m not a jerk.” Yoongi shrugs. Jimin eyes him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if it’s sincere.

     “Well good. I like you.” He pronounces with a nod, and all Yoongi can manage is an embarrassed huff in reply. “I think you’re someone who just says it how it is, aren’t you?”

     “Uh—”

     “You’re a straight shooter.”

     “Hah, I guess.” Yoongi scratches behind his ear. “Not straight, though.”

     Jimin gasps dramatically, and Yoongi turns to find himself face to face with the widest puppy eyes he’s seen yet.

     “Wait, really?

     Yoongi doesn’t answer, just raises an eyebrow at him. Jimin is practically vibrating with excitement and it’s painfully endearing.

     “I think we should be friends.” He gives a little pat on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Can we?”

     They’ve reached the apartment building by now, and he recognizes the serious looking man standing by the door, arms crossed, waiting for them. God, Yoongi is so screwed.

     “Sure, yeah. We can be friends.” He answers, with a chagrined half-smirk. He’s expecting a squeal of joy or something, based on what he’s learned of Jimin, but the truck is silent as he pulls it into a space and parks it. Then a soft pair of hands clasp gently around his forearm and Jimin blinks up at him with the most sincere smile Yoongi’s ever seen.

     “I’ve never had a friend who’s queer, too.” He says, almost a whisper. “You’re the first.”

     “Oh?” It shouldn’t be all that surprising—Yoongi hasn’t befriended any fellow gays either, so far—but he would have thought Jimin would have at least a few, considering how magnetic he is. “What about Yunseo?”

     “Ah,” Jimin’s smile flickers away for just a moment, and when it returns it doesn’t quite make it to his eyes. “No, Yunseo is straight.”

     Yoongi doesn’t get the chance to try to formulate a reply to that, because Jimin’s straight boyfriend gives a sharp wrap of his knuckles against the passenger door before pulling it open.

     “Hey, Princess.” The man offers his hand to help Jimin out of the truck, and a pretty blush adorns his cheeks as he accepts. “Welcome home.”

     “Thank you, Oppa!” Jimin titters, in a much higher voice than he’d been using in the truck. Yoongi looks away fast enough to give himself whiplash when the couple start kissing. Surely Yunseo knows, about Jimin…? A thousand questions come to mind, but Yoongi pushes them all down along with the sick feeling at the back of his throat and focuses on the task at hand. The faster these boxes get moved, the faster he can go home and sulk.

     Unfortunately, even the time it takes to open the tailgate and round the truck with the first stack of boxes isn’t long enough for the couple to separate, it seems. He notices Yunseo’s gaze first, eying fixed sharply on Yoongi while the man kisses the enthusiastic boy in his arms. Then the hand, snaking lower down Jimin’s back till it gives a firm squeeze to his ass. 

     Alright then. 

     Yoongi hurries toward the building as fast as his slides will take him, but not fast enough to miss Jimin’s yelp of protest and ‘I told you not to do that’. He says it with a giggle, but there’s a tenseness underneath that Yoongi doesn’t miss, even if he’s trying to.

     “Oh, but you like it.” Yunseo chuckles.

     "No—"

     "Yes, you do."

     The world is looking less and less rose-tinted by the second.

     There’s an old cat lounging in a band of sun across the apartment’s front stoop, and Yoongi nearly trips on it in his haste to escape the situation behind him. It’s a pitiful thing, boney, fur clumped with dirt, and a jagged scar across one clearly blind eye. It glares its good eye up at him and hisses for good measure as it slinks away into the bushes.

     “Ohmygod, Gwanghae stayed!” Jimin rushes over, trying to peer into the bushes even though the cat seems to be long gone. “I can’t believe he stuck around!” He beams up at Yoongi, who’s doing his best to try to get the door open without putting his boxes down. “Oh, let me get that!” Jimin jumps up to help, still gushing about the cat. “I used to leave food for him, I was so worried when I had to leave, but he’s still here!”

      When you got dumped by the same loser you’re getting back with now, Yoongi thinks. Still, he can’t help but be endeared at the other boy’s enthusiasm for one of the least appealing street cats he’s ever seen.

     “Come on now, darling.” Yunseo pulls Jimin towards the elevator by his wrist. “Let the man do his job.”

     “Oh, sorry.” Jimin casts an embarrassed glance at Yoongi before following his boyfriend. “I just got excited.”

     “No, that’s alright, I don’t mind!” Yoongi answers quickly. He spends the next several minutes dissociating, staring at the slow climb of the elevator numbers while the couple make eyes and quiet giggles at each other on the other side of the lift. It’s a special kind of torture.

     “Ah, by the way, how much do we owe you?” Yunseo asks, once they’ve finally reached the apartment and Yoongi sets the boxes down.

     “Erm…” Yoongi scrunches his nose, trying to calculate how much he’ll have to pay when he returns the truck he’d foolishly rented for the day. “I think it comes out to two hundred-thousand won? Yeah.”

     Yunseo raises an eyebrow, reaching for his wallet and pulling out the bills. “Oh? Wasn’t it twice that last time?”

     “Uh, well, it’s a thing for returning customers. A promo.”

     The older man doesn’t bother replying, just hands over the cash without sparing Yoongi another glance, ushering him out the door.

He tries to catch one last glimpse of Jimin, but the door clicks behind him before he gets the chance.

~~~~~

     Despite the promise of friendship, weeks and then months pass by without a word from Jimin. Yoongi does scroll back in his phone to find the log of Jimin’s call, and against his better judgement he saves the number. He never texts him, though he’s tempted a few times. The guy was probably just being nice, and Yoongi doesn’t want to make the first move if Jimin never really meant it anyways.

     Enough time passes that the ‘new job scaries’ slowly transform into a tentative sort of confidence. Plenty of Yoongi’s songs get tabled of course, filed away indefinitely in the ‘ideas’ folder on his desktop, but plenty get accepted, too. 

     Even the doomed song he’d made with Namjoon somehow gets accepted. 

     The hours he pulls are still back-breakingly long, and the work rarely ends when the three roommates make it back to their cramped apartment, but when the boss gives him a proud squeeze on the shoulder and tells him he’s done well, Yoongi smiles despite the exhaustion, and holds his head a little higher.

     “Hello?”

     Yoongi is so shocked by the caller ID shining up at him that he can’t get his mouth to work properly, a drawn out silence hanging in his tiny office even after he’s frantically brought the phone to his ear.

     “...Hello?” The soft voice tries again, and Yoongi finally manages to shake himself out of his stupor.

     “H-hey.” Yoongi coughs. He’d been working on the same few bars of a song for hours, and even though it’s still relatively early in the evening, he might have been nodding off when his phone rang.

     “Oh—yes, hi! I didn’t think you guys would still be open. My name is Jimin and could I, um—could I possibly speak to Yoongi?”

     Yoongi slumps in his chair, a goofy smile spreading across his face. “It’s me, Jimin.”

     “Oh! Hi, Yoongi!”

     “Hey.” Still grinning, Yoongi starts saving his files and closing down his workspace.

     “So, um. I don’t know if you charge extra for a move this short notice, or if it’s even possible so late, but I need help. Gotta move again.”

     Ah. This sweet kid thinks he still has a moving company’s number. Yoongi must have failed to clarify that last time… 

     Moving faster than he has in a long time, Yoongi throws on his hoodie and grabs his keys, already heading for the door.

     “Yeah, of course. What’s the address?”

     There’s a pause on the other end of the line, then a heavy sigh. “Same apartment building as last time.”

     “Ah. Alright, I’ll be there in…” Yoongi squints as he jabs the address into his maps app. “Like, twenty-five minutes?”

     “Wow, okay. I’ll try to have everything ready. Thank you so much, Yoongi!”

     “Sure, it’s no problem.”

     Yoongi can see the small figure sitting beneath the porch light well before he reaches the building, dressed in joggers and a plain black tee, backwards ballcap giving him a more boyish look than usual. Jimin wasn’t kidding about having everything ready; he’s surrounded by trash bags and piles of his things, not unlike the first time they’d met. This time though, he doesn’t look sad. He seems to be lost in his thoughts, fists clenched and jaw sharp as Yoongi pulls his street scooter to a stop. He looks angry.

     “Oh!” Jimin’s face softens when he spots him, and he hops to his feet. “Um… is all this gonna fit?”

     “Sure!” Yoongi gives a confident nod and a thumbs up, his helmet wobbling a little on his head. It has the desired effect, melting more of the tension from the younger man’s features.

     “I really don’t think it is.”

     “Yah, are you a professional mover too now?” Yoongi asks, with a pointed raise of his eyebrows that earns him a full-bodied laugh.

     “Mmmkay, show me what you got then, Mr. moving guy.”

     It takes some re-packing and a good deal of creativity, but the majority of it does somehow fit, even if the scooter looks worryingly top-heavy. Still, Yoongi feels rather proud of his accomplishment. 

     “What about this?” Jimin asks, approaching with arms full of his bedding.

     “Give it here.”

     Jimin makes an alarmed huff. “You’re gonna hold it and drive?!” 

     “Nooo, you’re gonna hold it. While I drive.”

     Jimin hesitantly hands him the blankets, looking unconvinced. “But Yoongi, look. There’s literally no room behind you.”

     Well, he’s not wrong, this is not a two-seater, but Yoongi is stubborn and maybe feeling a tad cocky at the moment. He scooches forward on the seat as far as he possibly can, squeezing the blankets between his stomach and the handles as he tries to leave enough space behind him for a passenger.

     “Oh my god, I hope nobody I know sees this.” Jimin giggles, climbing aboard. It’s a tight fit, with Jimin hugging him from behind, trying to keep the blankets in Yoongi’s lap in place while Yoongi focuses on keeping the whole ridiculous contraption balanced.

     “Alright then, where to?” Yoongi asks, starting the motor. He feels Jimin tense against his back.

     “Oh, uh, I don't know. Just… away. Hah.”

     “Not to the dorms?”

     “No, I graduated.” Jimin answers.

     “Oh, congrats!”

     “Thanks...”

     Yoongi thinks about keeping their banter up and teasing, maybe saying something about having to charge extra for no destination, but… There’s a thread of something heavy and dull under the other man’s lighthearted tone, so he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the darkened street. Away. After a few minutes, Jimin rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and lets out a shaky sigh, his body heat seeping into Yoongi’s skin as they wind their way slowly through the city.

     Jimin is saying something, but between the hesitance in his voice and the street noise, the best Yoongi can do is grunt a ‘huh?’ and lean closer. Jimin’s breath tickles his ear when he tries again.

     “If you wanna, you can drop me off there.” He points out the neon sign of a motel up ahead. Half the letters have burnt out, which matches pretty well with the other run down buildings in this part of town. Wherever they are. Yoongi has questions, and he’s certainly not about to leave his precious cargo and all his precious cargo’s belongings someplace like this alone, but he pulls into the lot anyways.

     “I think this is a love motel.” Yoongi says.

     “No it’s not, it’s fine.”

     “There’s a big pink heart in the office window, so.”

     “Ah. Well, I’ll just call a friend to come get me then.” The younger boy’s voice has gone flat. He slides off the scooter and stands there, arms hugged around himself and shoulders small. “Here, I’ve got some cash I think.”

     “Um. No?” Yoongi waves him off, popping the buckle on his helmet and hopping off the scooter too. There aren’t nearly enough lights in this parking lot, but it’s still enough to tell that Jimin is frowning at him. “You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you here.”

     “I’m fine, thank you though.”

     Yoongi rolls his eyes and plops down to sit on the curb. “Yeah, for sure. Still staying.”

     “Ugh.” Is all Jimin answers, sitting down as well. He pulls out his phone and dials someone while Yoongi tosses gravels at the trash bin a few feet away.

     “TaeTae?” Jimin says, after he gets an answer. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He pauses for a while, heaves a sigh. “I broke up with Yunseo.”

     Yoongi perks up a little. This means that Jimin is single. Yoongi sinks a gravel three-pointer and checks to make sure Jimin saw.

     “Yeah, so I was wondering… could I stay with you guys for a little while?” Whoever TaeTae is must say yes, because Jimin finally cracks a smile. “Thank you. Oh, no, I’m actually not there. I packed all my stuff before he got home from work, and some sketchy guy offered me a ride.”

     “Yah, what do you mean sketchy?” Yoongi kicks at his shin, but Jimin dodges too fast.

     “Yeah well, he seemed nice. But then he just brought me to a love motel, so I was hoping you could come get me, like, pronto.” He cuts a sly side-eye at Yoongi, who’s already spluttering his protests.

     “Yah! You told me to come here!” He whisper-yells.

     Jimin just pretends he doesn’t hear. “Oh no, don’t worry Tae.” He looks Yoongi up and down. “I can take him, easy peasy.”

     “Right, nevermind, I’m outta here.” Yoongi gets to his feet and stomps towards the scooter, trying to keep his face grumpy while a grin threatens to break through.

     “Oh shit, I gotta go, he's trying to escape.” Jimin says somewhere behind him, along with a “Thanks again, Tae!”. 

     That's all the warning Yoongi gets before he's being tackled from behind, and he screeches loud enough in the quiet night that it makes Jimin shriek too.

     “Shhhh—Yoongi—oh my god you're gonna wake people up!” The little pest cackles, even as he's trying to put Yoongi in some sort of headlock.

     It's been a long time since Yoongi has rough-housed with anyone like this, not since he and his brother Geumjae were highschoolers. Maybe it's a little childish but what the hell, if the most beautiful boy in the world thinks the two of them are on tousling terms now, Min Yoongi is not about to disagree.

     He tucks his chin and wriggles back with a growl, trying to get Jimin off balance enough to break free. It's almost enough, but Jimin manages to keep ahold of his arms and drag him back in. They're too evenly matched, Jimin giggling in his ear when he succeeds in pinning Yoongi's arms at his sides, Yoongi cackling back when he manages to sweep a leg around Jimin’s and nearly take them both to the ground.

     “Can't believe—mmph—you fight so dirty!” Jimin gasps, trying to manhandle Yoongi's top half towards the ground with a firm tug on his hoodie.

     “Yeah, sorry I'm so good at winning.” Yoongi smirks, pulling a sweet reverse move straight out of the hoodie, leaving his opponent to splutter at the empty garment in his arms while Yoongi—now in just a tank top—tries to make another break for the scooter.

     He’s not quite fast enough to avoid getting caught by the wrist, but those childhood years of being overpowered by a big brother at least taught Yoongi something of value. He doesn't even have to think before a quick twist of his forearm leaves Jimin's wrist in his grip instead.

     He looks up in triumph just in time to catch a flinch of real pain across Jimin's flushed face. His gaze drops, and it's then that he notices the jagged line of fresh scratches down the other man's arm.

     “Ah—sorry.” Yoongi says, letting go between huffs for air. Jimin straightens up, shoving loose hair back behind his ears. He looks more beautiful than Yoongi's ever seen him like this, color and sweat across his skin, chest rising and falling from the exertion. It would be a little overwhelming if he weren't suddenly looking so somber, too.

     “Tried to pet that stray kitty?” Yoongi asks softly, watching the way Jimin’s gaze goes distant as the younger man traces the scratch with his fingers.

     “He's never gonna trust me ever again.”

     “Sure he will,” Yoongi gives him an awkward shoulder pat. “Just gotta be patient.”

     There's a split second where Jimin snaps to meet his eyes and there's so much anger sparking there that Yoongi thinks he must have said something very wrong. Jimin takes a stilted breath, fists clenched at his sides.

     “I was patient.” He says, voice tight. “You don't understand. I caught him, yesterday.”

     “Oh?” Yoongi rubs the back of his own neck, unsure what he should say. He’s clearly hit a nerve. “Did you get hurt pretty bad?”

     Jimin seems to come back to himself a little, maybe because of the hesitance in Yoongi's tone, and some of the heat leaves his eyes.

     “No, I’m fine.” 

     Yoongi squints, but it’s too dark to tell if that’s true, so he reaches for Jimin’s arm, holding it up very carefully to inspect. Jimin huffs but allows it. “Doesn’t need stitches or anything, I don’t think”

     “I don’t think so either. It’ll be fine.”

     Yoongi tsks. “You should clean it really good though. Crap, I don't have any band aids or anything.”

     “It's okay. Tae will help me clean it up later.” By now, the two of them have drifted back to the curb. Yoongi takes a seat, but Jimin stays hovering nearby, hands in his pockets. He kicks at the gravels with his shoe. 

     “Hey… I'm sorry I snapped. That anger wasn't for you.” He says, looking remorseful. Yoongi shrugs. He gets it. Despite the playfulness Yoongi had managed to distract him with, the guy’s had a rough night.

     “It’s no big deal. I’ll just add an extra fee to the moving bill.”

     Jimin gives a surprised laugh, eyeing the scooter still loaded down with his things. He raises a brow at Yoongi, a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. “So how much is this top-notch moving service gonna set me back?”

     Yoongi draws air in through his teeth. “Well I figure, before taxes and fees… three thousand won?”

     The relative quiet of the city night is interrupted by another musical giggle. “Okay!” He gives a little fist pump, then drops down to sit on the curb as well. He bumps his shoulder against Yoongi’s, eyes slitted. “You’re not actually doing this for the moving company, huh?”

     Yoongi gasps and turns to him with wide eyes. “Are you calling me unprofessional?” 

     “Hyung-nim…” Jimin nudges him again, except this time he stays pushed up against Yoongi’s side afterwards, setting a flurry of butterflies alight in Yoongi’s middle. “I think you’re just helping me cause you’re nice.”

     “I’m no such thing.” Yoongi pouts, turning his face up towards the night sky. The cool breeze feels nice against his heated cheeks. “Why do people keep saying that.”

     The other man rolls his eyes. “Can I see your phone?”

     “What for?”

     “I need to put my number in there, cause we're gonna be friends.”

     “O-oh? Really?”

     “Yep, I can tell.”

     Yoongi is reaching obediently for his pocket when the realization goes through him like a jolt; Jimin's number is already saved in his phone from the last time he'd called for moving help, because Yoongi is a gay fool who thought he'd never actually get a chance at friendship with ‘The Most Beautiful Boy In The World 😻💕’.

     So he stuffs his hand in his pocket and keeps it there.

     “Ha, actually, um… You kinda already have my number.” 

     Jimin watches him with the most devastating puppy eyes while Yoongi splutters.

     “Oh?”

     “Yeah. That number I gave you, the one you’ve been calling for The Moving Guys,” Yoongi raises his shoulders, feeling guilty. “It’s just me.”

     “Oh. Well that makes more sense.” The corners of Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. Yoongi lets out a breath.

     “Yeah, sorry. I can give you their actual number, if you want it. I haven’t worked there for a while.”

     “And miss out on the best mover in Seoul? Aish, you’re crazy.” Jimin glances at the overloaded scooter, hands on his hips like he’s beholding something impressive, and Yoongi can’t help but give a disbelieving chuckle. He tries not to stare too much while Jimin pouts his lips in concentration, typing away on his phone. A second later, Yoongi’s pings in his pocket.

          The Most Beautiful Boy In The World 😻💕: Hi. Do you want to be friends? Please reply YES to confirm or NO to stop.

     “Hmm…” Yoongi arches an eyebrow, scrutinizing the boy beside him, who bursts into a fit of giggles so strong it seems to throw him off balance, his body weight leaning against Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi solemnly jabs in a YES and sends it. Easiest decision ever, and only a slight twisting of the truth, given that Yoongi would really prefer to be husbands with Jimin. But friends is fine. It’s cool.

     A moment later he’s being wrapped up in a warm and entirely unexpected hug. There’s no way to hug back with the way Jimin has his arms trapped, so Yoongi just huffs and hopes it’s dark enough to hide his blush.

     “You’re so funny, Hyung.” Jimin chuckles, pretty eyes curved into crescents when he finally lets go.

     Yoongi pouts. “Why? What did I do?”

     “Nothing, you’re just funny.” Jimin grins at him, mischievous, and leans closer. “And you’ve got a kitty face.”

     “A what…?”

     “You heard me.”

     “Wow… I feel like I should be offended by this.” Yoongi tsks. He leans back on his arms, eyes drifting up to the murky dark of the skyline. It’s getting late, and maybe this isn’t the best part of town for sitting around in a parking lot after dark, but a wave of contentment quiets everything beside the thought that here, now is exactly where Yoongi wants to be.

     “You shouldn’t be offended, it’s a compliment. And it suits you.”

     “Hmm.” Yoongi smiles, still looking up at the sky. He definitely doesn’t mind at all. Jimin can call him however he’d like, as long as it means he’s looking at him.

     “Don’t you like cats?” Jimin’s voice falls softer. Yoongi turns at the change of tone.

     “Sure I like cats.” He nods.

     “Oh, okay. Good.” Jimin runs a finger across the angry red scratches on his arm, wincing. “Yunseo hates them.”

     They sit in silence for a minute, both lost in thought. It’s not his business, whatever happened with Jimin and the stray cat, and his now-ex boyfriend. Or at least, it wasn’t his business, but the two of them are friends now, and Yoongi wonders if he shouldn’t at least check…

     “Wanna talk about it?”

     “Hmm?”

     “About that cat. Or why you needed to move away. You don’t have to, just… you can if you need to.” Yoongi can feel Jimin’s eyes on him, like the younger man is thinking about it, so he waits, absently picking at the rips in his jeans. Jimin draws in a shaky breath, and when he starts to talk, all of the earlier lightness is gone from his voice.

     “I’ve been trying to make Gwanghae like me for… like, almost two years now? I realized I was seeing the same cat around every time I went to Yunseo’s apartment, even before I lived there. And sometimes he looked so sad, Yoongi. He got so thin last winter, and he always has new scratches. Nobody cares about him or even knows he exists.” Jimin’s voice wobbles, and he clenches his fist to steady himself. Yoongi wishes he could be brave enough to give his new friend a hug, but he’s not quite there yet.

     “I know he’s rough. I know he’d probably never really be, like, a great pet or anything. I know that.” Jimin growls the last words, some of his earlier anger seeping back in. “But I don’t think anybody’s ever—ever loved him—sorry.” He sniffles, rubbing his nose. “I know it’s silly, but all I wanted was to make life a little softer for him.”

     Well, fuck being shy. Yoongi puts his arm around the younger boy's shoulder and pulls him into a half-hug, and he feels the shivers running through Jimin’s body despite the summer air.

     “It’s not silly. Not at all. You said you caught him?”

     “Yeah.” Jimin nods, looking miserable. He seems to be trying to hold his emotions back and doing a poor job of it. “I’ve been trying to get him to go in a carrier, putting food in there and stuff. This morning was the first time he ever even got close to going in it, and he just marched right in. I almost didn’t remember to close the door I was so shocked.”

    He pauses, turning to Yoongi with round eyes and clenched fists, like he's asking permission to go on. Yoongi offers a little smile and a nod.

     “I ran upstairs and I was so excited I just—I wasn't thinking I guess. I was about to let him out into the apartment when Yunseo came in the living room, and—sorry—” Jimin shoves his hair out of his eyes angrily, and the tear tracks on his cheeks reflect the pink neon of the hotel sign.

     Yoongi has really been trying not to dwell to deeply on his growing dislike for Yunseo—he’s always found jealousy to be an unappealing trait—but he has a distinct feeling that whatever he's about to hear isn't going to help…

     “I know I'm in the wrong too, I should have thought to ask him first I guess, like he said, but… He’s never yelled at me like that before.”

     “The fuck?” Yoongi frowns. “In what universe are you in the wrong, it's just a cat you're trying to help?”

     “I mean, he is pretty rough around the edges. I think he can only see out of one eye, did you notice that scar? Yunseo was probably right, he probably does have diseases.” Jimin rambles, morose. “But I can take him to a vet. Or, I could have, if Yunseo hadn't grabbed the carrier and dumped him back outside. I don't think Gwanghae will ever let me get anywhere near him again, after this.”

     There's an urge to give this sweet, tender little soul all the flowers he could possibly ever want that kind of comes out of nowhere. In the absence of an acceptable flower offering, Yoongi reaches up to give a comforting rub to the back of Jimin's neck instead, just for a second before he chickens out.

     “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You're a really sweet guy for trying to help.”

     Jimin smiles weakly. “Yunseo said responsible adults don't make decisions like that, and if I expect not to be treated like a child I shouldn't act like a child.”

     “Well fuck Yunseo.”

     Jimin gives a startled laugh. “Yeah, I guess, fuck Yunseo. Ah—I think that's Tae.”

     Both boys hop up from the curb as a car pulls into the lot.

     Later, after all the belongings have been transferred from the scooter to the car, and Jimin's friend has properly worried and tutted over his scratches and tear-stained cheeks, Jimin pulls Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi pats him on the back under Taehyung’s protective gaze.

     “Thank you for helping me tonight Hyung. You don't know how much of a difference you made.” Jimin looks up at him, and his eyes are so pretty Yoongi feels a little breathless.

     “Yeah, ‘course. Any time.”

     “Y’know, now that I don't have to worry about looking 'too boyish', I kinda want to start going to the gym again. And Tae won't do it with me, so I need a buddy...”

     Yoongi’s not sure where he’s going to find the time or the energy, but he's not about to refuse the most beautiful boy in the world.

     “Sure, yeah. I'll be your buddy.”

~~~~~

     “There you go, Hyung, just like that.”

     Jimin's fingertips are a light pressure at the base of Yoongi's spine, making sure he keeps his posture through his squats, making sure Yoongi's mind doesn't stray to anything but him.

     This is the sweetest form of torture.

     Admittedly, in the several months they've been doing this twice-weekly gym buddies thing, Yoongi has come to realize that not only does he not mind working out, but… He actually kind of likes it? Hell, he might just keep it up even if he didn't have the literal son of Aphrodite to nag him about it.

     Jimin is someone who gives himself completely to whatever he's doing, pouring all of his mind and effort and physicality into doing the best at it that he possibly can. It means that workout days are brutal, leaving Yoongi whining the whole walk to the corner store they always visit after, while Jimin giggles and teases him for being such a 'grumpy ahjussi'.

     It means that when Jimin decided the two of them would be friends, he committed to it with an intensity that Yoongi isn't sure he's experienced from anyone besides family before. And that same intensity is extended to Jimin's other friends in equal measure—the way he gushes to Yoongi about Taehyung's latest art concept and Jungkook’s most recent boxing victories makes that much clear.

     And on the rare occasions when the two younger boys are able to join them for gym day, they always have some congratulations or praise to offer him as well; ‘congrats on the music award, Hyung-nim’, ‘congratulations on the promotion’, ‘I can't believe you're making a song for IU, Hyung-nim'.

     It makes Yoongi think that just maybe, Jimin gushes about him, too.

     “Yah—Yoongi—You’re slowing down again!” Jimin reaches over from where he’s striding gracefully on his own treadmill to turn Yoongi's up faster. Apparently Yoongi wasn't stealthy enough when he turned it down.

     “Ah shibal.”

     Jimin throws back his head and laughs loud enough to draw a few glances from the other gym-goers.

     “Oh come on my buddy, just a little more. We gotta build that endurance!”

     “The fuck do I need endurance for?” Yoongi pouts, while his legs scream at him for mercy. “I work at an office. Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”

     Jimin just winks at him, because he's terrible.

     Yoongi rolls his eyes even though he can feel his cheeks burning. “Definitely don't need it for that.” 

     Jimin fake-gasps. “But my Hyung is so handsome!” An unnecessarily sultry eyelash flutter. “Surely he has all the girls and boys he could want?”

     “I have exactly how many girls I want.” Yoongi says, holding up a zero with his fingers.

     “Ahh, so it's like that, huh… all the boys, then?”

     Yoongi scrunches his nose.

     Jimin smiles big and dumb and almost trips over his own feet. “Ha! I thought so!” He leans in too close and gives Yoongi finger guns. “Pretty sure you could have all the guys you want too, then.”

    In the months they've been friends he's heard all about Jimin's family—who he clearly adores—and all about his choreography job, all about his favorite video games, even silly things like proper manicure habits and the best bingsu place in all of Seoul.

     Yet this is the first time that the topic of relationships has been brought up at all. Jimin had been pointedly steering clear of it and Yoongi had been perfectly willing to follow his lead, figuring he needed some time after the breakup. He's tried not to dwell on it too, even if ideas are there poking at his mind a hundred times a day. 

     You should ask him out…

     You should show up to gym day with a big rainbow bouquet of carnations and take him to get that ridiculous strawberry blueberry mango cheesecake bingsu…

     And, by far the worst of all, when Jimin hovers near, helping Yoongi with his stretches or asking for the same in return;

     He's so close, and his eyes are so beautiful, and his lips look so soft oh god of fuck what if I just lean in a little closer and…

     “W-well, I don't want all the guys.”

     “Oh?” Jimin finally lets him turn his treadmill down to a walk, doing the same for his own. 

     “Yeah. Just one would be good.”

     “Mhmm, I'm not surprised.” Jimin looks like he finds this information delightful. “You've got that quiet and brooding Mr. Darcy thing. An old school romantic, I think.”

     “Dunno.”

     “Yeah, you are. You'd want to pull the chair out for your date and give him flowers and watch the sunset on a park bench together and stuff, huh?”

     Yoongi huffs and looks away. Those sorts of things did feature pretty heavily in the wooing Jimin fantasies… Ugh, feelings are so embarrassing.

     “Hey, I think it's really nice. I don't think it's in the cards for me to have, but I'd love to be on the receiving end of that kind of romance, most people would.” Jimin nudges him. “Is there… someone?”

     Yoongi makes eye contact for one dangerous moment and his thoughts short circuit. 

     “Ahh—um—nuh-uh.”

     “No?”

     Yoongi shakes his head with all the regret in his body. Not very old school romantic of him to panic when the object of his affection just pitched him the perfect set up for a confession.

     “Well, whoever you end up with is lucky as hell.” Jimin pats him on his slumped shoulders.

     “Thanks.”

     The walk to the convenience store is unusually quiet. Yoongi has a sense that Jimin is holding something back, maybe waiting for the right moment. It's a perfect spring night, the breeze refreshing and cool, rich with the scent of cherry blossoms.

     They get their refreshments and sit down at the rusty little bench outside, exchanging smiles. Yoongi's stomach flutters hard enough that he has to take a little gasp of air to calm himself.

     He can't do it. 

     Next week. Next week he'll tell Jimin how he feels.

     “Hey, um…”

     Yoongi's eyes shoot up as Jimin starts to speak.

     “I need help moving again. You totally don't have to say yes, but is there any chance you could help?”

     “Oh? Yeah, sure. Of course I'll help.” Yoongi answers, a little confused as he watches Jimin fidget. “Where too?”

     “Well, so… I'm seeing Yunseo again.”

     …Oh. That hurts. Wow.

     Yoongi presses a hand to his chest. He frowns and looks away to hide the fact that his vision is getting a little swimmy at the edges.

     “O-oh yeah?”

     “Yeah, he… here, I'll show you.” Jimin turns his phone around so Yoongi can see. “He got me a kitten, as a makeup gift.”

     “Cute kitty.” 

     Yoongi's gonna fucking cry if he doesn't snap himself out of it soon, god. He cannot cry about this, not right now, not in front of Jimin. He missed his chance, fair and square. He can bury his feelings to be a good friend.

     “She's the cutest kitten, she's a purebred ragdoll and I named her Monroe, and already she sticks to me like glue. She's so precious, Yoongi.”

     The kitten on the screen really is adorable, a little brown puff with shiny black eyes at the center.

     Yoongi takes a breath, praying his voice comes out a whole lot steadier than he feels.

     “But she’s not the cat you wanted...”

     Jimin seems to consider this for a moment, gulping down a long swig of water while Yoongi forces himself not to watch the tempting drops of water and sweat running down the other man's throat.

     “She's not Gwanghae…” Jimin smiles, and Yoongi knows he's not imagining the sadness in it. “I still love her.”

     “As you should.”

     “I feel like you're judging me.” Jimin shifts in his seat, making the rusty old thing creak worryingly.

     “I'm not.” Yoongi says, offering a reassuring smile. His loyalty to Jimin hasn't changed. He's truly not judging, just… hurting.

     “Yunseo promised I'd never see that side of him again, and he's been so caring lately. Like, even more than ever? That's a good sign, right?”

     “I… guess so?”

     Jimin sighs. “So yeah… We're trying again. We're each other's first long-term relationships, so it's bound to be messy, y’know. I think his heart really is in the right place.”

     Yoongi thinks it maybe isn't, and it seems a little dubious that an attractive middle-aged man would only now be in his first real relationship, but he bites his tongue.

     “Tae’s mad at me. For getting back with Yunseo.”

     A couple of high school boys clamber their way past the two of them and into the store, temporarily disrupting the quiet. Yoongi's grateful for the interruption; he's not thrilled about the news either, and he's really not sure what to say.

     Jimin sighs. “My parents were college sweethearts. They still go on a date every week, and Eomma giggles like a little girl when Appa teases her. They gross us out but… They've lasted like that, through so much. I want that so bad, Yoongi.” He puts his hand on Yoongi's forearm, eyes rounded like he's asking for approval.

     Yoongi just stares down at Jimin's perfect, pretty little hand that he can't hold, and tries to take a steady breath against the tightness in his throat. He wants to offer some encouragement, tell Jimin he's happy for him, but he doesn't quite trust his voice to sound sincere right now.

     “Yunseo first asked me out right after I finished the last of my freshman finals, you know, back in college. It feels like we've already been a thing for so long, and I just…”

     There's something in Jimin's voice that makes Yoongi wonder if he's trying to talk himself into it just as much as he is to Yoongi.

     “I can't just give up on that. I've got to try.”

~~~~~

     The following week is the first time in nearly a year that Jimin cancels gym night. 

     The week after that, it's like nothing has changed at all. They stretch and lift weights, Yoongi whines and Jimin grins and rolls his eyes, and neither of them talk about anything beyond the four walls of the workout center.

     The week after that, he cancels again.

     And then, it happens again.

Hey I'm at the gym, need somebody to spot me

you coming?

The Most Beautiful Boy In The World 😻💕: I'm so sorry, I can't tonight Yoongi. Raincheck plz!

Gym tomorrow?

The Most Beautiful Boy In The World 😻💕: maybe, I'll have to play it by ear 

Hey IU gave me some VIP tickets to her next show, you wanna come with me and Joon and Hobi?

The Most Beautiful Boy In The World 😻💕: This is Kim Yunseo. Stop contacting my girlfriend. I'm blocking this number. She's not interested, kid.

~~~~~

     “Ha… Hajimaaa…” Yoongi groans, flopping his hand around in the dark to stop the terrible ringing coming from his phone. It's his own composition, that ringtone, and at any other time he’d take pride in it, but it sounds like shit when it's dragging you from the dead of sleep.

     He squints at the caller ID. Stupid time to decide to be friends again after all these months, but whatever. His heart gives the best attempt at a flutter it can manage at two AM.

     “Whaaat…?” He whines into the receiver, eyes closed as he squishes the phone against his cheek.

     “Hyung—Hyung-nim—please come get me.”

     “What's wrong?” Yoongi stumbles out of bed and through the dark room to his light switch, scrambling to tug some jeans up over his boxers along the way. Even if it's been a while, he knows his friend well enough to catch the awful tenseness under his voice. “Jimin, what's wrong?”

     “Please, come.”

     “Yeah, of course, where are you?”

     “She's his… his wife, Hyung…”

     Well, fuck. 

     “It's okay, Jimin, I'm coming.” Yoongi grabs his helmet and stumbles out the door. “Just gotta tell me where you are.”

     “It doesn't make any sense l, he—he promised—” There's a little sob and Jimin clears his throat like he’s trying to stay composed. “All this time, of course she wasn't just a friend, why did I ever—.”

     “Jimin, I'm on my scooter but I don't know how to get to you.”

     “Ah, I'm sorry, I'm a mess. I'm outside our—Yunseo’s apartment.”

     Yoongi sighs. He’s still trying to piece it all together, but he’s certain that whatever that asshole has done is the last thing the sweet boy on the other end of the line deserves.

     The residential streets are all but empty this late, and Yoongi makes it to the too-familiar apartment building in record time. It only takes a moment to spot his friend once he arrives.

     “Jimin!” Yoongi calls, scrambling off his scooter as if the sad figure curled into himself by the building entrance might just disappear if he doesn't get there fast enough. Jimin looks smaller both in demeanor and body, the muscle he’d gained in their gym buddy days lost along with the undefinable brightness he’d had then.

     He's too focused to notice the old cat lounging on the stoop till he nearly steps on it, and the quiet night is broken by an angry hiss and an embarrassing yelp. Yoongi wrinkles his nose in offense as he watches the raggedy creature vanish into the shadows, leaving behind a little pile of cat food someone must have left on the stoop for him. Somehow, in the midst of all the worry and scrambling to get to his friend, the sight gives Yoongi pause.

     “You’re still trying, aren't you…?” He says softly, coming over to sit next to him.

     “Huh?” Jimin finally glances up. God he looks miserable.

     “That old cat, Gwanghae, right? You're still trying to win him over?”

     Jimin stares at the pile of kibbles for a second, like he's looking at something far away. Then he shrugs, getting to his feet.

     “I was, I guess. Not like he needs me to. Seems to do just fine whether I’m here or not. Just like everybody else.”

     “I really don’t think that’s true.”

     Yoongi hooks his arm around Jimin's narrow shoulders and guides him towards the scooter, lips curling up when Jimin slumps against him like he's lost the will to walk on his own. 

     “I don’t know, feels like it might be.”

     Yoongi sighs again, setting the helmet on Jimin’s tousled head and humming to himself while he snaps it under his friend’s chin. 

     “...Have you been drinking?”

     “God I wish.” Jimin scoffs. “Do I look like I've been drinking?”

     Yoongi eyes his friend. Admittedly, he doesn’t smell like alcohol. And the reproachful glare he’s currently getting is plenty sharp. “Nah. Sorry, just checking.”

     “M’kay.” Jimin sighs, giving Yoongi a long look before climbing onto the seat behind him. His arms snake around Yoongi's middle, his head resting against his back like it belongs there. As quiet as the electric scooter is, Jimin’s voice is so soft that Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it.

     “I really missed you, Yoongi-hyung.”

     Yoongi's heart melts into a useless puddle in his chest. “Missed you too.” he manages, giving an awkward pat on the other man's arm.

     “I'm sorry I've been such a shit friend.”

     Yoongi turns in the seat enough to look into the other man’s watery eyes and does his best at a reassuring smile.

      “Hey, don't worry about that right now, ‘kay?”

      “Okay.’

     “So yeah… that’s the arrangement I thought he had with her, any time he needs to go home to visit his family.” The two of them are settled side by side on Yoongi's sofa while Jimin pours out his story and Yoongi keeps his wine glass full.

     “And I forced myself to be okay with it cause I really get it. Being that closeted must suck so much. His family would never be okay with it, and his colleagues too, so Yunseo has always needed to be really careful and keep me and him on the down low.”

     “Okay but, I mean… Is that why he literally can’t acknowledge that you’re not a girl? To keep you on the down low?” Yoongi is trying so hard to keep the judgement out of his voice, but the more he hears the more incredulous he gets. Maybe hearing himself say all of this insanity out loud is doing something similar for Jimin, his despondence at the start of the conversation slowly giving way to more and more anger.

     “I think he always kind of hated that I was a boy… He doesn't make me dress like that, though. He just asked me to, back when we started dating, and I didn't mind all that much. Sometimes it feels nice to dress like that. I guess I just thought… relationships that last always require some compromise, right?” Jimin winces, like he doesn't quite buy it himself.

     “I mean, sure, but not like that, compromising yourself. Asking your partner to hide who they are and taking some heterosexual decoy home to meet your parents is…” It’s insane, Yoongi thinks. “...a little more than just being on the down low.”

     “I know… Fuck, I know.” Jimin drops his head into his hands, his voice growing thin. “He’d get so mad if I ever challenged him, and I was so young when we got together, I didn't know what to do. He seemed so experienced at life, I guess I kinda just followed his lead.”

     Yoongi scoots closer on the couch and puts an arm around Jimin’s shoulder. He can feel the way the younger man's body is shaking in his hold, maybe from anger, or fear, or sadness. Probably all of them.

     “I didn't know what to do… You know, I just wanted a forever love. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I think I’ve known for a little while now that we weren’t gonna make it…” He sniffles, wipes his nose. “But I tried so hard, Yoongi.”

     Yoongi starts running his hand through Jimin's long hair. He’s unsure at first if it’s okay, this level of physical affection, but Jimin leans into the feeling so he continues, careful not to let his rough fingers snag on the soft strands.

     “I know you did, I could tell. You tried your best, didn't you?”

     “I really did. Wasn't enough, though.”

     Jimin closes his eyes, and they sit in silence for a while, the only sound the soft brushing of fingers through hair and the hum of the refrigerator. When Jimin’s features relax, Yoongi goes on, hushed.

     “So what happened tonight?”

     Jimin stiffens, but after another moment he takes a shaky breath.

     “Yunseo couldn’t have his family back home meet me, even if I dressed like a girl. Wasn't worth the risk. But they knew he was with someone, so he came up with this plan. He said he knew a lady, a friend of a friend, who would agree to go home with him and pretend to be his girlfriend for the holidays, to keep up appearances and make his family happy. Yunseo cares a lot about appearances. The whole idea made me uncomfortable, but I went along with it, because…”

     He groans, burying his head in his hands. “I don't know. I'm so stupid.”

     “Weren’t you pretty young when all that started?”

     “Yeah. I was twenty.”

     “So you've been trying to figure it out all these years, and doing your best, right?”

     “I guess...” Jimin reaches for his wine glass and takes another long swallow. When he's done, he curls back against Yoongi's side, making himself small. A sudden, almost primal urge to protect him wells up in Yoongi's heart. There’s not a lot he can do about it, considering they’re alone in the safety of his home, but still he grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and pulls it up around them.

     “She wasn't a friend of a friend, Yoongi. She was his estranged wife. I was supposed to be going out with my dance company for a celebration tonight, but they rescheduled and I guess he didn't know I was coming home early. Clearly.”

     “She was there?”

     “Yeah. They were right in the living room, too, right out in the open. I asked who she was, and she told me. Then she asked who the hell I was and Yunseo tried—” Jimin's breath hitches. “He tried to say I was just his roommate. After all these years.”

     There are a number of thoughts that flood Yoongi’s mind all at once; that he would like to destroy Kim Yunseo in a thousand different ways, that Jimin should be protected from ever feeling any of this again, and that he would really, really like to be as close as physically possible to the man in his arms. He sighs heavily.

     “You deserve so much better.”

     Jimin turns to search his face, like he’s looking for something that will help him believe it. Yoongi lets him, holding very still and hoping he finds it. When Jimin looks away he takes in a long, slow breath, some of the tension seeping away from his body.

     “Thank you. For saying that.” Jimin says. He wiggles closer, till he can hide his face in the crook of Yoongi's neck. He thinks he must have imagined the soft brush of lips against his neck, but he still has to suppress a shiver at the contact, the warmth of the other man’s breath on his skin.

     “And thank you for still being so nice to me, Hyung. I just disappeared on you and you still came to get me.”

     “Yeah, how ‘bout you don't do that again.” Yoongi leans back enough to make sure Jimin gets the full effect of his pouting.

     It has to be an accident, but when he tilts his head closer to hide Jimin away once more he feels it again; the softest brush of lips under his jaw, a tiny hint of wetness as Jimin kisses him there. This time Yoongi can’t stop the strangled gasp that escapes his lips, or the way his hold on the other man tightens, every molecule of his body focused on the touch.

     Jimin must notice, since he stops immediately, briefly pressing his nose against the corner of Yoongi’s jaw, inhaling a shaky breath before pulling away enough to look at him with wide eyes flicking back and forth between Yoongi's own. 

     God, he's so beautiful. Yoongi knew it, of course, since the moment he first saw him years ago, but he's never seen him like this. Utterly bewitching.

     “Yoongi…” 

     Jimin is all but in Yoongi’s lap now, a thick thigh that Yoongi doesn’t even remember grabbing pulled up over his legs. He watches transfixed as Jimin’s gaze drops to his mouth, watches a pink tongue flick out to wet plush lips. Some part of his mind tries to conjure a warning, a plea to slow down, but Yoongi is already drowning, leaning in, following a siren’s call he’s hopeless to escape.

     He’s stopped by a soft palm cupping his jaw. Jimin’s breath ghosts across his lips, his brow furrowed desperately.

     “Yoongi, I… I need to leave.” He whispers. Neither moves away. “I just—I need to go stay with Tae, before I make a decision we'll both regret.”

     Yoongi swallows roughly, trying to find an answer that isn’t begging, that isn’t dropping to his knees right there on the carpet for him, but nothing comes to mind. 

     “I'm going to call you tomorrow morning, okay?” Jimin's hand on his cheek is trembling, his eyes traveling over Yoongi's face with something like wonder.

     “O-okay.” Yoongi's voice is rough when he can finally croak out an answer. His fingers tighten on Jimin's thigh without meaning to.

     “I won’t vanish on you, Yoongi-yah. I promise. I’ll call. I just… you know I shouldn't stay here, if we...”

     “Yeah… Yeah.” Yoongi nods. He's not sure what else to do.

     “Please—can you tell me what you're thinking?” Jimin asks, leaning back a little, his hand trailing down to cover Yoongi’s own on his thigh.

     “I think you're right.” Yoongi groans and rubs a hand down his face. “And I think you’ve got better judgement than I do right now.”

     Jimin bites his lip, grimacing. “I’m pretty sure we've established tonight that I have shit judgement, actually. But thank you." He leans forward, turning Yoongi’s face with his hand to press a barely-there kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. It's stupidly sweet, innocent, and in that instant Yoongi knows; it's always going to be Park Jimin.

     “I think I need to at least get something right.” Jimin whispers, untangling himself from the blanket and from Yoongi to stand up.

     “Yeah, I… I’ll call you a cab.” Yoongi says. His voice sounds funny, crackly. The digital light of the kitchen clock across the room says three-thirty AM. Maybe that’s why none of this feels quite real, hazy at the edges.

     “I'll call you tomorrow morning.” Jimin says, already halfway to the door. He turns to give Yoongi a last lingering look. “Thank you, Hyung.”

     “Y-yeah.”

     And then he’s gone…

     The call comes late the next morning, while Yoongi is sipping a piping hot mug of black coffee and staring blankly across his empty living room. It’s noisy, wherever Jimin is, the clamber of other voices in the background and an occasional overhead announcement making Yoongi strain to hear him.

     “Jungkook and Tae went earlier to get my things, and my Monroe kitty. I'm moving back to Busan for… a while, I think. The train should be here soon.”

     “Yeah?” It’s funny, how much peace Yoongi feels, hearing those words. There’s a pang of loss too, but he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath heavy with the scents of coffee and vetiver, feels the warmth of the golden morning sun filtering through the window across his little kitchen table, and knows it will be okay.

     Jimin promised he wouldn’t disappear, and Yoongi trusts him.

     “Yeah. I think I lost myself when I came to Seoul, and it always feels like I can breathe better on the coast.”

     Yoongi hums. “You know, this is the first time in years that you've moved without me helping.”

     Jimin chuckles, light and wistful. “Ha, that's true, isn't it? Thank you, Hyung.”

     “Yah, for what, tossing your stuff on my scooter?”

     He hears an affronted laugh, and it’s easy to picture his friend sitting alone on a bench in the crowded train station, laughing and rolling his eyes.

     “No, silly. You've always come when I called, even when I didn't deserve it. Thank you for that.”

     “Yeah, well… I think you’ve always deserved it, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi squirms in his chair, blushing at the honesty of what he's about to say. “...And I always will. Whenever you call.”

     There's a happy little hum on the other end of the line that Yoongi wishes he could hear in person.

     “Will you help me when I move back?”

     “Of course I will.”

     “It might be months from now. Maybe even a year. I think… I think I don't know how to love myself. I don't really know how long that kind of thing takes to figure out.”

     “I don't know either. I’m glad you're doing this, though.”

     “Me too.”

     “You promise you'll come back?” Yoongi's voice comes out a little more vulnerable than he'd been aiming for, and of course, Jimin hears it.

     “I promise, Yoongi-yah. I'll come back to Seoul.” He whispers the last part. Maybe he's embarrassed to say things like this too. “I'll come back to you.”

      When the call ends, Yoongi drinks the last of his coffee and heads for the shower. He isn't sure when it happened, but he must have grown up at some point, between the yearning and the failing and trying, clumsily making his way forward in life amidst a thousand missteps.

     A younger version of himself would have been devastated by this, he thinks. To let the person who he's pretty certain is the love of his life go, after the first sign that they might actually have a chance at happening.

     Yoongi rests his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall and takes a long, slow breath beneath the steaming water. He misses Jimin. Maybe it's a tear trailing down his cheek, maybe it's just the shower spray. Either way, he thinks, they'll both be okay.

~~~~~

    “You know what I think is crazy?” Hoseok asks, his clear voice cutting through the din of the awards show after-party. The three friends are huddled together at the bar, waiting whatever the appropriate amount of time is to leave these things.

     Or at least, that's what Yoongi is doing, and he's pretty sure Namjoon is on the same page. Hoseok looks like he might be good for another few hours, because he's one of those bizarre people who gets energy from this sort of chaos.

     “What's crazy?” Namjoon asks, ever polite. Hoseok is probably on the verge of answering, but Yoongi has an important announcement to make first.

     “They put sparkly shit in my drink.” Yoongi holds up his glass to make them look. 

     “Yes, Hyung. That's edible glitter.” Namjoon pats him on the shoulder.

     “Look at it.”

     “Yes, Hyung.”

     Hoseok snorts under his breath. “Since when did you become a lightweight?”

     It takes Yoongi a second to realize the preposterous question is directed at him, since he's busy keeping an eye on the swirly alcohol. He leans forward to squint at Hoseok.

     “‘M not? This is only my second drink?”

     Hoseok doesn't look convinced, but he shrugs. 

     Yoongi truly isn't drunk, that's his secret. He's made more music in the past months than he has in his entire career, probably. He's stayed up till sunrise more nights than not, found inspiration in places he's never thought to look before, and driven himself to a level of exhaustion that has blurred everything into a surreal sort of waking dream state.

     It's a level of exhaustion that makes things like sparkly drinks extra fascinating, and everything else about being at an after-party extra irritating. Still absolutely worth it though, if the award show results were to be believed.

     Turns out doing anything and everything to avoid thinking about a certain cute sexy lovely man hundreds of miles away in Busan can be incredibly productive.

     Hoseok tries again. “Anyways, you know what I think is cr—”

     “Whoa yours has it too!” 

     “Hyung. Nim.” Namjoon groans, using a foot to spin Yoongi's bar stool away from where he's pawing at the drinks and towards the two of them. “Please.”

     “No, no, he's actually kind of underlining the point I'm about to make.” Hoseok has that particular wolfish smile that means he's about to say something he knows will be offending. Yoongi juts his bottom lip out in anticipation of it.

     “Hyung, considering all of this,” Hoseok gestures to all of Yoongi, “I think it's absolutely crazy that you don't have a cat.”

     “I feel like I should be offend—” Yoongi gets cut off mid gripe, which he probably deserves, his friend talking excitedly over him while Namjoon chuckles softly.

     “And besides, your apartment is perfect for one, all quiet and low light and refined with a great view of the city. A cat would thrive!”

     Yoongi sighs. If he's being honest, he has thought about it, more than a time or two. He figures it's bound to happen sooner or later. He shrugs. “I dunno… Guess it's not the worst thought you've ever had, SeokSeok-ah.”

     “It's a great idea! Here, let's look at the shelter website.” Hoseok turns his phone to them, a long list of cats already pulled up.

     Yoongi humors his friend, and they're all adorable but it's just… none of them seem quiet like his cat.

     On Saturday mornings, Yoongi wanders. It's a part of his effort to keep up an exercise habit, and much more rewarding than ten thousand steps on a treadmill staring at the smudged gym wall.

     He's got a system; ride the bus to a new stop and then simply let his feet take him wherever feels right, till he's gotten all his steps in, seen a music-inspiring thing or two, and hopefully kept his mind off anything Jimin-related.

     It's by sheer coincidence that the day following his cat conversation, his feet bring him to a familiar apartment building. He's just in this part of town because he hasn't walked here yet, he tells himself. Yunseo’s place looks the same as ever, though there's no careful pile of cat food left in offering on the porch like there had been the previous times.

     Still, as Yoongi makes a slow path past the building, his eyes scan the bushes and alleyway with more hopefulness than he's willing to admit…

     Even so, he's still shocked to see a familiar old creature lounged in the sun on the stoop, so still that Yoongi would worry if not for the slow rise and fall of the cat’s ribs.

     He draws closer as silently as he can. Time must have taken the edge off the poor things senses, and he stays fast asleep even when Yoongi is standing over him. Carefully, carefully, Yoongi takes off his jacket and holds it out like a makeshift net, stooping closer and closer. Then, he pounces.

     There's an explosion of hissing and claws and furious cat screams, but Yoongi manages by some miracle to keep hold and wrap his jacket tighter, desperately trying to keep the little demon and it's teeth and claws contained. Judging by the sound of shredding fabric, the jacket is taking one for the team.

     To his shock, Gwanghae seems to settle after several minutes of speed walking towards home, save for the occasional low wail. It sounds a lot like a death threat, Yoongi thinks.

     The second he stumbles through his door, he places the bundle of jacket and furious cat on the carpet and takes several steps away. Gwanghae spares him though, for now, darting away down the hall into the darkness of Yoongi's bedroom with one last rage-filled yowl.

     “I swear you'll love retiring here.” Yoongi winces, panting.

     Well, he got his cat. He's almost certainly going to regret it, but he's got his cat.

     Months pass. Yoongi keeps making music, and working out, and coexisting with a cat who shoots him hateful looks from sun up to sun down. A cat who doesn't look so skinny anymore.

     Some days he doesn't think of Jimin at all.

     Some days, it's all he can think about, and it takes every bit of patience in his body not to call him, or text him, but he knows Jimin needs to make the first move, when he's ready. 

     So instead of reaching for his phone, he reaches for the bottle of lube in his bedside drawer and lets himself feel it, lets himself yearn for Jimin, slow and deep.

~~~~~

     As it always does, Jimin’s call comes in a rare moment when Yoongi isn’t wishing for it. The perfectly seasoned bite of pajeon he’d just sat down to eat stops halfway to his mouth as he gapes at his phone.

     “Jimin?!”

     The giggle on the other end is soft, maybe shy. “Hi, ha, is this the moving guy?”

     “Hell yeah, you need your shit moved?” Yoongi grins, putting on a terrible customer service voice. Jimin laughs louder now, and it’s the best sound Yoongi has heard in his life.

     “I do, actually. We’re moving back to Seoul this weekend, I know it’s short notice… I don’t want to be a bother.”

     Yoongi’s heart sinks down to the floor when he hears the word “we”, fearing what that could mean, but he powers on. “Of course I will, you could never be a bother.”

     “Oh…” Jimin is quiet for a moment, and Yoongi wonders if he came on too strong, but then he hears that giggle again. “Don’t say that yet, Hyung-nim. I can definitely be a bother to you.” There’s teasing in his tone. Yoongi grins.

     “So, is it a lot then? Should I rent a truck?”

     “I’m honestly not sure, maybe? Just me and my brother, so it’s more than just mine but not by that much. We couldn’t fit it all in luggage for the train, though. We tried.”

     Ah, the 'we' is him and his brother. Yoongi slumps in relief. “I’ll finally meet Jihyun, then?”

     “Yeah, I’m afraid so. He’s got his first big boy job in Seoul and he starts next week, so he’s been begging to live with me up there.”

     Yoongi hears playful protests on the other line. He can’t stop smiling.

     “I’ll get a truck, then, and come down to get you two.”

     “Thank you, Hyung. Are you sure it’s not a bother?”

     “No Jimin, of course not. I’d love to.”

     There’s a soft ‘okay’ on the other end of the line, before they both say their goodbyes. 

     “This is the last of it!"

     "Okay, that stuff can go in the second bedroom, I’ll unpack it later—no Yoongi—other second bedroom.” Jimin pretends he’s frustrated, hands on his hips, but he’s so cute that Yoongi can’t resist pestering him some more. They haven’t stopped the bickering for more than a minute since Yoongi picked them up. Jihyun groans from somewhere in the kitchen.

     “I’m so sick of you guys.” He yells, and Yoongi laughs when Jimin rolls his eyes. "Worst friendship I've ever seen."

     “Oh shut it, Jihyun. We're legendary.” Jimin smiles warmly at Yoongi, who ducks his head in a matching smile. Something shifts.

     “I’d ask if you want to stay for dinner, but I don’t think I have it in me to cook anything.” Jimin says, rocking in place like he’s suddenly growing shy.

     “Actually…” Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and tries to steel himself, but the butterflies don’t give him any mercy at all. He's going to do it, whether he's scared shitless or not. Better late than never. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over to mine for dinner." He shrugs like it's casual, in case things have changed. In case Jimin needs an out. "With me. Just us.” A fraction of a second of eye contact is all he can handle, so rather than whatever expression the question puts on Jimin’s face, Yoongi just sees the way he clenches his cute fist in front of him in excitement.

     "Yoongi, is this..."

     "Hmm?"

     "Is this a date?" Jimin asks, barely more than a whisper. Yoongi nods solemnly. Maybe it's not the first time he's ever asked someone out, but this is definitely the scariest. At least Jimin is squirming just as bad as he is. 

     “What about Jihyun?” 

     “I’ll order him some takeout.” Yoongi answers, already hurrying to do so, glad to have something to do with his hands.

     “Okay, yeah. I’d love that.” A hesitant smile breaks across Jimin’s face.

     “Good, cause there’s someone there I really want you to meet.” Yoongi grins.

     “Oh…?” Jimin hesitates, face falling a little. “Alright, sure. Let me get changed then.”

     They’re both so nervous that Yoongi would laugh about it if he weren’t certain he’d end up doing something disastrous like burning the pasta he’s cooking. Jimin is hovering nearby, trying to stay close to Yoongi while casting furtive glances around the apartment like he's looking for something.

     To be perfectly honest, Yoongi has no idea where Gwanghae is, as per usual. The cat has mostly adjusted to his forced retirement, spending his time following the sunlight that shines through the windows and looking well fed for maybe the first time in his life. He’s starting to worry that the cat might not make an appearance at all when Jimin suddenly gasps, and Yoongi turns to find him looking towards the terrible beast slinking down the hallway with impossibly wide puppy eyes.

     “Kitty—Yoon—” He stammers, pointing, before covering his mouth with his hand and bursting into shocked tears. Yoongi and everything else in the apartment might as well have ceased to exist as Jimin slowly drops to his knees on the living room carpet and offers his trembling hand.

     Gwanghae eyes it, nose upturned, utterly unimpressed by human emotion. Jimin looks at the scraggly beast with so much pure adoration that Yoongi almost feels bad about his cat's rudeness.

     “He doesn’t let anyone touch him, so—oh, well, never mind.” It’s Yoongi’s turn to be shocked, watching in disbelief as that terrible, ungrateful creature rubs his cheek across the other man’s hand. Jimin lets out a little sob, and the cat looks up at him disdainfully before slinking away back into the bedroom.

     “How… Yoongi…?” Jimin seems to finally remember that Yoongi exists, turning his watery gaze to him. He really, truly is the most beautiful person Yoongi has ever seen, even like this. Especially like this. Yoongi shrugs, feeling weak.

     “I don't know. I wanted a cat so I just went and got him.”

     He lets out a little ‘oof’ as he’s suddenly engulfed in a warm, perfect Jimin hug.

     “I can’t believe you.” Jimin mumbles against his neck, making himself small in Yoongi’s arms, a contrast to the strength with which he's holding on. “Is that who you wanted me to meet?”

     “Uh-huh. You happy?”

     The smile he gets in answer is dizzying. And then, before Yoongi can even begin to comprehend it, Jimin takes a firm hold of his hips, backs him against the cabinets, and crashes their lips together, hard. It's the fiercest first kiss he's ever had, yet somehow the sweetest too, the little bites against his lips always careful, the fingers tangled in his hair never pulling too hard, even as Jimin bullies him back against the counter with a muscular thigh between his legs and kisses him breathless.

     "Holy—" Yoongi tries to gasp when he finally gets a chance to breathe, but Jimin's perfect lips cut him off again and god he's delicious. "H-holy fuck baby, 's just a cat!"

     Jimin gives a whiney growl and reaches down to hike one of Yoongi's legs around his hip, finally breaking the kiss to drag his lips down Yoongi's neck instead. Yoongi does his best to hold on, arms wrapped around Jimin's neck while he groans up at the ceiling. This is what being ruined for anyone else feels like, he thinks.

     "Not just a cat," Jimin pants against his throat. His hands are everywhere, like he can't decide what part of Yoongi he wants to hold onto the most. "It means a lot to me, and you know it." He sounds almost pissed off when he drags Yoongi back into another scorching kiss. He's got one hand squeezing at Yoongi's chest now, the other so low on his waist that his thumb is tracing his hip bone down beneath the waistband of his pants.

     "God, you're gonna kill me." Yoongi huffs. Jimin laughs and pecks his lips, nuzzling their noses together.

     "No, but in about thirty seconds I am gonna give you the best blow job of your life. Are you okay with that?"

     Yoongi groans and slumps even more heavily against the counter, nodding. He can't believe any of this is happening, but the way Jimin's breath puffs across his lips, the way he smells, the weight of him pressed against Yoongi—it's all very, very real.

     "On one condition, baby..." Yoongi smiles, reaching up to tuck a stray whisp of hair behind the other man's ear. Jimin has the audacity to blush at that gesture, after everything.

     "Hmm?"

     "Promise me that tomorrow you'll let me take you to a real dinner." This time Yoongi is the one to claim a kiss, leaning forward to softly take Jimin's lips.

     "You're gonna romance me, aren't you?" Jimin tries to tease, but he sounds far too fond.

     "Mhmm, gonna pull out your chair and give you flowers and watch the sunset on a park bench together and stuff."

     "And call me baby?" Jimin asks, biting his lip. Yoongi reaches a thumb up to set it free, huffing when Jimin kisses his finger.

     "Yeah, and call you baby." He grins, giving a little flick under Jimin's chin.

     "Hmm..." Jimin glances to the side, like he's considering the offer. "Okay, deal." He smirks at Yoongi from under his lashes and leans closer, capturing one last kiss before he sinks to his knees.

     The next morning, Yoongi wakes to hopelessly tangled sheets, late morning sun, and the most beautiful boy in the world.