Chapter Text
Since the trainee days, it had happened only a handful of times. Days when their schedules were especially strenuous, nights after the roughest practices, if he’d neglected to eat well... There were definite triggers to his terrors, but they weren’t always avoidable.
By now, the rest of the boys knew; after all, when seven people share a bedroom for over three years, they’ll know everything about each other, even the gross, tiny details like who doesn’t clip his toenails often enough and who goes to bed without showering sometimes. Hysteric breakdowns in the middle of the night, though few and far in-between, don’t go unnoticed.
The first time it happened the other boys went into a slight panic (the exception being Jungkook, who characteristically slept through the entire episode). Jimin had just joined their trainee group a few weeks prior, and none of them were close enough with him yet to know how to handle the situation. Jin shook him softly and tried to wake him, but the younger boy was completely wrecked and untouchable, a sobbing, shaking disaster. Namjoon cried himself out with worry over the boy, and Yoongi could do little but comfort Hoseok, who, having been the first to awaken to the sound of Jimin’s cries, was arguably the most distraught. Taehyung was the one who crawled into bed with the broken boy and held his hands, ensured that he didn’t hurt himself, and even started to sing him lullabies until the sobs gave to whimpers and the vibrating terrors became soft shivers. Hours later, when the sun had risen and Jimin awoke, he remembered little. However, what he did recall made him so embarrassed he shut himself away for three days.
Now, years later, they were all accustomed to the terrors--or at least, they no longer fell completely to pieces when it happened. They also knew not to mention them to Jimin when he woke up, but they learned to tread carefully around him for a few days after, going out of their way to offer him physical comfort, warm tea, and whatever other leisure they could afford. Usually Yoongi would buy him a warm meal, Hoseok would cling to him even tighter than usual, and even the maknae would tone down his teasing for a few days.
But still, when it happened, each of the members felt their stomachs coil in distress and their hearts pang in concern. Hoseok, known for his high stress levels already, not to mention his certain weakness for Jimin, usually took it the worst of all and had even made himself sick before. This was one of the arguments against the new roommate situation when they moved into the bigger dorm. Namjoon even took it to the PD, but the PD was firm. And thankfully, because it turned out to be better that way.
In the months since Jimin, Tae, and Hoseok had moved in together, Jimin had only had one terror, and Hoseok and Tae discovered that the crises were much easier to handle with more space and fewer people. Taehyung had held Jimin in a fierce body-lock disguised as a cuddle while Hoseok rubbed his back and mopped the tears and sweat from his face. Hoseok didn’t even cry--much. In fact, he was glad that he shared a room with Jimin during the terrors, because it was hard for him to trust anyone else to care for him in this state. Hoseok needed to be there, needed to know that his best friend was okay.
So, this time, Hoseok was prepared when a muffled cry and the sound of thrashing blankets woke him with a start. Unfortunately, Taehyung had been dragged into the living room by Jungkook the previous night for an Iron Man movie marathon, meaning only Hoseok was available to deal with the mess that was Park Jimin, as he couldn’t bring himself to leave the boy for even a moment in order to retrieve backup. Jimin needed him, and he needed him now.
His first thought was to get Jimin onto Hoseok’s slightly bigger bed, a bed that also wasn’t roofed by another bed. While usually Jimin was a sound, still sleeper so the bunk bed suited him well, in these situations, it became increasingly hazardous to have a ceiling just feet above his head.
“Jiminie,” Hoseok whispered, halfway across the room in just moments. He leaned into Jimin’s ear, though he knew talking had never worked before. “Jiminie, you need to come here.”
At this point, the terror was only beginning. Jimin had pulled his body into a tight fetal position and was scraping his fingernails over his scalp, sweating and whimpering. Hoseok placed a hand on Jimin’s clammy wrist and he cried out, tearing it away. Hoseok recoiled, swallowing back the tears that formed from seeing his dongsaeng in such a state.
“Jimin-ah, please...” Hoseok brushed his fingers over Jimin’s arm gently before taking a strengthening breath. He wasn’t known for being the strong one or the one who took control in tough situations, but he knew what he had to do. Without thinking, he dove forward and wrapped his arms around Jimin’s chest tightly. He pulled the boy towards the edge of the bed and pulled Jimin into his arms before the boy could react. Jimin began to squirm the second they hit the floor, however, moaning, “No, no!” and beating his hands against Hoseok’s bare back, leaving behind stinging handprints. Hoseok gripped him tighter with the strength he had gained from years of rigorous dance, struggling to his own bed, where he finally deposited the boy safely. As soon as Jimin was on the bed, however, he began to thrash again, now in the depths of his terror.
“Jimin-ahhh,” Hoseok said. He grabbed a pillow and forced it into Jimin’s arms, hoping he would take out most of his rage on it rather than something more expensive or alive. Jimin, however, immediately threw the pillow to the floor.
“No no no no no,” he was whimpering under his breath, sprawled on his back as he clenched and unclenched his fists, feet sliding against the blankets for purchase.
Hoseok hated having to hold Jimin down, but when he began to curl away from Hoseok back into the fetal position and attempt to rake his fingernails down his skin, he decided he needed to intervene. Hoseok moved from where he had been standing over the pitiful boy and slid into the bed next to him, forcing him closer to the wall. He wrapped his arms around the shivering dongsaeng from behind and grabbed his wrists, holding them firmly away from his skin.
“Oh, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok said, biting back tears as Jimin began to fight against him. On a regular day, Hoseok would bet that the deceptively cute Jimin could definitely do some serious damage to any one of his hyungs, but Hoseok counted himself lucky that during this terror, his kicks were aimless and his back was to Hoseok. However, this fact barely made it easier for him.
Jimin was a bright soul, the kind of person whose smile warmed your skin and whose laugh made flowers bloom. His energy rivaled that of the Energizer bunny, and his spirit was brighter than a million stars. That was his charm; for it to be suffocated by his debilitating terrors, for his light to be drowned in the tears and sweat he lost during these terrors was tragic to Hoseok. He would have rather drowned or suffocated himself than see Jimin go through these episodes.
Sadly, there was no choice. Instead, Hoseok was left to clutch his hysteric dongsaeng in the dark of night, wondering somewhat hopelessly if the sun would ever rise, if he’d ever see Jimin’s smile again.
Jimin finally stopped thrashing after what felt like a lifetime, and it was a good thing, too, because Hoseok’s fingers were beginning to burn from having to hold Jimin in place so long. Hoseok knew what came next, for it always followed the thrashing: the sobbing.
A scream rose from Jimin’s chest and he seemed to collapse inward. Hoseok released the boy’s wrists and hugged him around the chest, pulling him back into a tight embrace. “Shhh, Jiminie, it’s okay,” he murmured, though he knew it wouldn’t help. He tried to calm himself, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and Jimin’s flowery shampoo.
A moment later, the door burst open and Jin flew into the room, eyes wide. He was holding a frying pan in one hand. “What’s going on?”
“Jiminie’s having a terror,” Hoseok said. Jin visibly relaxed, though his face contorted into a sympathetic frown. He let the pan fall to the floor.
“Poor dongsaengie,” he said, leaning over the bed to brush back the quivering boy’s hair. He looked from Jimin’s tear-stained, swollen face to Hoseok’s red eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Hoseok said, though his voice cracked as Jimin’s body shook against him. He cried out again, clutching at Hoseok’s shirt, and Jin flinched back.
“Has he finished thrashing?”
Hoseok nodded. “The worst is over.”
“Do you need me to stay?”
Jin wasn’t asking because he minded. He would have stayed up all night holding both of the boys if Hoseok asked, but Hoseok felt that for once, he could handle this on his own. “No, it’s okay,” he said as he squeezed Jimin a little tighter. “He’ll go back to sleep soon.”
And it was true. Only moments after Jin retreated to his room, having gathered the blankets Jimin had thrown in all directions and tucked them around the boys, Jimin’s sobbing became only cries muffled in Hoseok’s shirt, which, when Hoseok began to pet his hair, became almost inaudible whimpers against his collarbone. Jimin’s body finally, finally seemed to relax.
His breath became a soft tickle over Hoseok’s throat, and his hands softened their grasp on his shirt. They came to cup Hoseok’s shoulders, even sliding under the thin material of his hyung’s shirtsleeves. Hoseok tensed for a moment, surprised, then chuckled with a heavy breath, wishing that he could tease Jimin about this later, imagining the boy stammering, flushing, and shaking his head in denial.
“Jimin-ah,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.” He moved slowly to pull the blankets tighter around them both, blocking out the night and the darkness. He buried his nose in Jimin’s hair, and let himself drift into a light sleep. Throughout the night, any of Jimin’s slightest movements woke him, and when he finally fell asleep for the last time, he was watching the moonlight illuminate the tan skin of Jimin’s arm, still tangled around his own.
* * * *
“Jimin needs to see this,” Taehyung said, laughing and scrolling through the pictures he and Jungkook had taken the previous night. Jungkook had found one of Namjoon’s old pairs of sunglasses, and Taehyung captured him on video, wearing them and growling, “Yamma ni ggumeun mwoni!” in a perfect imitation to the audience of one. Oh boy, Namjoon was going to kill them when he saw this.
Jungkook covered his mouth as he laughed now, struggling to avoid choking on the eggs he’d made for breakfast. “I’ll go get him,” he said, hopping off his chair after shovelling in another mouthful of eggs.
“Jimin-ssi...?” Jungkook asked, bursting through the door to his hyungs’ room. He dropped his voice low when he realized that Hoseok, one of the lightest sleepers of the group, was still asleep, curled on his side--with Jimin?
Oh.
Jungkook flushed when he realized the intimate situation. How had that happened? Jungkook himself wasn’t the most fond of skinship, though he knew that not all the members felt the same, least of all Hobi-hyung. However, Jimin wasn’t known to be a cuddler--at least, not openly. Jungkook always suspected that he secretly liked skinship, but to go from brushing Hobi-hyung off all the time to sleeping in his arms? That was surprising, to say the least. As if he could sense the maknae’s thoughts in his sleep, Jimin let out a heavy breath, and Hoseok’s hands tightened on the material of Jimin’s shirt (as if he could pull him any closer), but neither boy woke.
Jungkook took one last, long, confused look at the pair--Hoseok with his dark chocolate hair spilling over his head, lashes fanned over his smooth skin, dry pink lips parted slightly, shoulders eclipsing over the younger’s body, and Jimin, barely visible but completely distinguishable, with his face tucked under Hoseok’s chin, peachy orange hair clearly ruffled, cheeks puffed and lips pursed with heavy sleep--and backed out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind himself.
* * * *
Hoseok felt the butterfly kisses on his neck, but he was still much too tired and hazed by sleep to register that that signaled Jimin’s awakening.
It wasn’t until Jimin’s voice sounded in a “Mm--nahh? Hobi-hyung?” seconds later and pulled his warm, incredibly warm hands from Hoseok’s skin, leaving behind a cold bareness, that the hyung truly awoke.
“Morning,” he said, feeling his cheeks lift into a smile. Sunlight spilled onto the bed, peeking through the shades, and Hoseok was so, so relieved that the terror of the previous night was over. In those desperate moments, he had been sure that the terror would last forever. The sunlight wiped away his stress, revealing Jimin to be back to normal--smiling, radiatiant Jimin. Hoseok’s heart felt light, and all he wanted was to hug Jimin close again and go back to sleep.
Jimin sat up quickly and began to disentangle himself from Hoseok’s long limbs. “Why are we--when did... I didn’t fall asleep..?” He, though surprised and confused, in his typical manner, began to giggle, “What are you trying to do, Hobi-hyung?” He smacked his palm against Hoseok’s chest lightly, and Hoseok cringed when he noticed the light red-brown bruises cuffing the boy’s wrists.
Hoseok’s smile faltered. Usually Jimin couldn’t remember his terrors, but he would figure it out somehow--Hoseok was never sure how Jimin knew, or even how he himself knew that Jimin knew. This time, however, there would be no wondering.
“You had a terror last night, Jiminie.”
Jimin’s face fell, and so did he, right back into the indent where his body had been all night, his head coming to rest again on Hoseok’s painfully numb arm, which at this point had to be void of blood completely. “No...”
Hoseok hugged him close again, partially out of comfort, and, if he was being honest, partially because Jimin was like a space heater when he slept and Hoseok wasn’t quite ready to relinquish that precious warmth on this cool morning. Unlike the previous night, Jimin didn’t resist him, instead hiding his face in Hoseok’s shirt.
“Did I... Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“No,” Hoseok said, hoping that Jimin hadn’t left any visible bruises on him during the worst fit of his terror.
Jimin’s hands slid up to cover his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice betraying the tears that his hands hid.
“Hey,” Hoseok said. “No crying. You did enough of that last night.”
This was the wrong thing to say. Jimin began to shake.
“No, no, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok said. “You can’t help it.”
“Was it awful?”
“It’s always awful, Jimin-ah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Hoseok took a deep breath and decided that he knew what to do. He snaked his arms around Jimin’s waist... And began to tickle him.
“Hobi-hyung! Hobihobihobi!” he cried out, honorifics forgotten in the panic of being tickle-tackled. Though his face carried the marks of crying, he was laughing again in moments, hands pushing against Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok’s fingers danced over the soft skin and hard muscles of Jimin’s abdomen, sneaking under the hemline of Jimin’s shirt. “Hobi-hyung! Hobi-hyung! Stop! Stop! Okay? I won’t cry anymore, just stop!”
Tae busted through the door. “Jimin-ah!”
“Help me, Taetae!” he shouted, grasping for Hoseok’s wrists to stop him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Hoseok said, extracting his hands from the younger’s body and regretfully letting him squirm away.
“Where were you?” Taehyung asked. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. I thought you went on a run with Jin-hyung.”
“I’ve been sleeping,” Jimin said. Pause. “With Hobi-hyung.”
“Ohhh,” Tae said, nodding his head slowly. “You’re so short, you see, that I couldn’t even see you in bed with Hobi-hyung. His body covered yours completely.” Tae laughed loudly, then turned quickly to escape.
In the span of a second, Jimin was on his feet and Taehyung had escaped through the door. “That’s it!” Jimin shouted threateningly and ran off to find Tae.
Hoseok collapsed back against the pillow, curling into the warmth left by Jimin’s body.
* * * *
Later, after their six-hour dance practice, a meeting with PD-nim, and a conference call concerning their upcoming Japanese tour, the boys found a rare free hour before dinner. Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jin called dibs on the TV to watch the newest episode of an anime they followed, Yoongi opted for a bath, and Namjoon hurried to the studio to try out a new melody he’d thought of. Hoseok and Jimin stayed behind in the training room to work on some new choreo, but instead, the boys had ended up on the floor goofing off. Hoseok decided they should go back to the dorm to rest since they weren’t being productive anyway (and, admittedly, he was still worried about Jimin’s condition after the events of the night before). Now, he and Jimin were relaxing, Jimin in his own bed across the room, scrolling through twitter or something (Hoseok wasn’t really sure), and Hoseok was watching the ceiling fan and letting his busy mind wander.
He liked to blame his drifting thoughts on his adolescence having been cut short, how his dancing whisked him away from the carefree joys of teenage life. Sometimes, he could even blame them on hormones, on his lack of physical contact, how the idol lifestyle barred him from any semblance of a romantic life. But right now, he was blaming them on Jimin. Jimin, who, just 20 hours before, was clutching onto him like his life depended on it, nuzzling his perfect nose against Hoseok's neck and falling asleep that way. Hoseok would almost be mad at him for being that cute and irresistible if he weren't so, well, cute and irresistible. Maybe it was just a contact thing, Hoseok reasoned. That was the closest he'd been to another human being since his girlfriend dumped him in early high school. Either way, Hoseok was left with a relationship-shaped-hole, one that begged for attention any time Hoseok wasn't completely absorbed in the Bangtan life. Like now.
“You had a girlfriend before, right, Jiminie?” Hoseok asked, laying across his bed on his side, head propped on his arm. Sometimes talking about relationships could take the edge off.
“Yeah, why?”
“I was just thinking about my ex.” Well... Sort of.
“Yeah? What happened?”
“She left me for some other guy."
Jimin dropped his phone facedown on his bed, looking up to meet Hoseok’s eyes. He was always so in tone with the members’ emotions, ready to listen and comfort attentively, sometimes even more maternal than Jin. Jimin knew Hoseok--knew he had that tone about him, not exactly sad, but mellow, almost dim, as if someone had turned down the brightness of his usual sunny aura, and he felt obliged to fix it, the team’s handyman. If the light wasn’t working right, he knew they’d all be plunged into darkness soon.
“Well, if she left you, then there was a reason for it, right?” Jimin said.
Hoseok laughed at the insinuation, falling onto his back to look at the ceiling. “Thanks.”
Jimin flushed. “No--I mean--I’m really bad at explaining.” Jimin sat up and brushed his fingers through his hair. “I mean, it worked out for you. If she didn’t appreciate you, if she didn’t see what a nice person you are, then she wasn’t right for you. Now someone who really does appreciate you can have you, someday.”
Hoseok let out a breath. “I miss having someone, period.”
“Hyung, don’t be ridiculous. You have me.” Jimin smiled sweetly, gesturing to himself with both arms.
Something about the way Hoseok laughed in response stung. Hoseok looked at the younger, whose face must have betrayed his hurt feelings because Hoseok joined Jimin in sitting up and said, “I didn’t mean to laugh, Jiminie. It’s just not the same. You’ve had a girlfriend. You know.”
“I guess,” Jimin said. “But really, she was just like a close friend who I held hands with sometimes.”
“And what happened?”
“BigHit auditions. I chose dance.”
“And what did she say?”
Jimin grinned. “She said good luck, and that she was glad she never kissed someone who only cared about dancing.” Despite his grin, it still hurt. He remembered that day, how even though the sun was shining it felt like it was raining inside his head and he wasn’t sure he would ever feel okay again. How he didn’t sleep that entire night, flipping his phone in his hands and alternating between crying and punching whatever he could find because there didn’t seem to be anything else he could do. How he doubted himself every minute until he got the call saying he was accepted as a trainee. How she still called him to congratulate him and how he couldn’t bring himself to answer her call. How that still haunted him to this day.
“That’s not true, you know,” Hoseok said.
Still stuck in his thoughts, Jimin had to ask, “What?"
“That you only care about dancing.”
Jimin could feel Hoseok’s mood had shifted. He grew uncomfortable under Hoseok’s warm gaze and veered the conversation in a new direction, laughing as he admitted, “The other part is true, though. She never kissed me.”
Hoseok snorted. “You mean Jiminie, our Jiminie who is such a noona pleaser onstage, who has abs and dances so sexily, has never kissed a girl?”
“I’ve never kissed anyone, hyung. And with this career, with the choice I made, I’ll probably be 30 before I get to.”
“Don’t be silly, Jiminie. I’m sure by the time you’re 29--” Jimin threw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.
“Aigo, you’re going to regret that, Park Jimin!” Hoseok shouted, standing up and marching across the room to where Jimin sat, unmoving, pretending to be fearless in the face of his attacking hyung. Hoseok swung at him with the pillow, and he collapsed sideways onto his bed, legs dangling off the side. They were both laughing, and Hoseok fell onto the bed next to him, watching him laugh.
Their laughter died down, but Hoseok’s eyes lingered on the boy’s face, observing what he couldn’t see from across the room. Jimin’s face was flushed from laughing, hair mussed from where the pillow had hit him. Most people would only see the shadow of the smile that had just faded on Jimin’s face, but Hoseok, his best friend and closest hyung, could see how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, how his lips were heavy and the smile was a little more forced than usual.
“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok said, cupping his face. “What’s on your mind?”
There was a pause. “Did I make the right choice?”
“Jiminie.”
“Yeah?”
Hoseok drew in a deep breath. “If you’re happy, you made the right choice. There’s nothing good in life that comes without sacrifices. You’re living your dream, doing what hundreds of trainees could never even imagine. When you sing, people from every corner of the world hear it and feel it. You dance like no one I’ve ever seen. It’s obvious from every movement that you love it. If you didn’t love it, and you didn’t want it with every fiber of your being, would you work as hard as you do? Would you go days without sleep because you want to perfect a move or reach a new note?”
“Hobi-hyung...”
“I can’t tell you whether you made the right choice, Jiminie. All I can tell you is what I see, and I see someone whose whole life is dancing. You followed your passion, and I don’t think anyone can say that was wrong, even if you had to make sacrifices. Even though it’s been hard.”
Jimin swallowed thickly, then smiled, a relaxed, genuine smile. “When did you get so wise, hyung?”
“It comes from experience,” Hoseok laughed, winking.
“Aiisshhhhh, you.” Jimin’s giggle was high, the kind of giggle that happened when he was embarrassed. How close do you have to be to a person to know what they’re feeling by the way they laugh?
Stuck on that thought for an instant, they were silent for a few beats. Unlike the silence that sometimes hung thick and jellylike between some of the other members, it was never heavy between the dancers. They knew each other’s looks and breath and nervous habits enough to communicate without words. This silence was content and warm, comfortable and familiar like everything that was between the boys.
“Jiminie,” Hoseok said. “I have an idea.” His hand gripped Jimin’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. A flush filled the apples of his cheeks, and his lips curled into a smile.
“Hyung?” Jimin raised an eyebrow as he reached to hold Hoseok’s arm, meaning to pull it away. However, that intention was lost when Hoseok repeated himself.
“You don’t have to wait,” Hoseok said.
“Hmm?”
Hoseok’s excitement changed, became something more anxious and childish and something that wriggled in his stomach like worms. “I know it bothers you, that you feel so inexperienced. Uh, you, uh... You don’t have to wait.”
“What do you..?” Jimin’s eyes widened in realization and all the air left his lungs. “Oh.” Kissing Hoseok. Kissing Hoseok, his hyung...
Hoseok’s eyes were also wide, stuck on Jimin’s, as if he were surprised himself. “I mean, just so that you can have that experience... For your pride.”
“I can’t kiss my hyung,” Jimin said, wondering how it was that he could speak without oxygen. “That’s... weird.”
“You’re right,” Hoseok said. A beat of silence. “It’s really, really weird."
Yet somehow their faces were moving closer, though no real intention guided their movements. It was a game of chicken, a test to see who would pull away first, laughing at the joke. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time they joked about kissing. Not nearly. But Hoseok wasn’t really feeling like a chicken right now, nor a jokester, not when the worms in his stomach became butterflies and Jimin murmured, “Really, really weird, hyung...” with his voice deep as Hoseok had ever heard it, shifting his weight forward and his eyes to Hoseok’s lips. Jimin’s thumb, by instinct, whisked over Hoseok’s bottom lip.
Hoseok didn’t exactly respond, unless you could count a hum of agreement. Or maybe it was a hum of something else, a hum of something that buzzed like electricity in his fingertips and danced in his lower stomach. Hoseok almost regretted it when eyes fluttered shut, losing sight of flushed, breathless Jimin, but Jimin’s closed at the same moment, and his nose brushed Jimin’s cheek before their lips met, and any regret he felt dissipated when he heard Jimin’s breath hitch and felt the soft, plush flesh of Jimin’s lips against his own.
Jimin’s breathlessness before was nothing compared to when Hoseok finally kissed him. He let out a sigh of surprise at the feeling of Hobi-hyung’s soft lips. He’d imagined kissing hundreds of times before, but the real thing--the real thing with Hoseok--caught him by surprise. He had never imagined the way he could feel Hoseok’s hard breathing or how Hoseok’s scent filled him completely, the scent of clean linen and his sweet sweat, a scent as familiar as his mother’s but in a different way. He never imagined that his hands would take on minds of their own, clutching at the front of Hoseok’s shirt before winding themselves in his hair. He never imagined how Hoseok’s fingertips, lighter than air, would brush over his cheek, into his hair, down his neck, and finally resting on his lower back, leaving prickles like butterfly kisses on his skin. The sound surprised him more than anything else, though, especially when Hoseok pulled the younger boy’s lower lip between his teeth and suckled on it. In fact, it--not only the sound, but the sensation, he admitted--surprised him so much that he jumped, breaking the kiss.
For a moment, neither of them said anything, just stared at each other in silence, both panting heavily as they leaned back on their elbows. Jimin’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, a habit, but unlike usual, he could taste Hoseok on them, feel that they were swollen and abused from the contact. Hoseok watched his every move carefully.
Finally, Hoseok cleared his throat and swallowed. “There you go, Jiminie. That’s all there is to it,” he said casually, but his voice was rough and low.
“Yeah,” Jimin said. “That’s all.”
Jimin’s heart raced and he suddenly felt as if he needed a cool shower. A very cool shower. He moved to stand up and pursue that shower when Hoseok grabbed his shoulder once more and pulled his face close. This time, he placed only the lightest peck on Jimin’s lips, but still, Jimin let out a tiny moan of surprise.
“That’s just part of the experience,” he murmured to Jimin, who, still shocked, was incapable of speaking. His lips tingled and he shifted back from Hoseok, finally finding the words: “I’m going to go shower, hyung,” which sounded much less casual and collected than he meant them to, and laughing to fill the silence. Hoseok chuckled as the bathroom door closed behind Jimin.