Archive of Our Own

“Dumped again, huh?”

Jimin rolls over on the floor of the dormitory common room, and replies listlessly, “Shaddup.”

Jin laughs and ruffles Jimin’s hair as he passes, stepping over him with those long perfect legs. Even upside down - an angle which should reveal double chins and unflattering lines - Jin looks disgustingly handsome. Someone like Jin would never understand, Jimin thinks sadly. He puffs his cheeks up and blows the air out like a whale letting off steam and considers forgoing dinner altogether, even though he’s hungry and the smell of Jin heating up sesame oil in a frying pan makes his stomach growl. Hunger wins out.

He’s an open book and can never hide how he feels, so the minute the other boys get back to the dorm for their evening meal everyone knows he’s been dumped for the fourth time this term. Tae tries to get the details out of him and spends all night trying to console him. Jungkook, on the other hand, is just insufferable.

“I don’t get it,” he says in that little kid in a big body voice of his, “Why can’t you just keep ‘em?”

“Because he’s not serious,” says Hoseok through a mouthful of fried chicken.

“Eh?” Taehyung looks at Jimin, brow creased. “You’re not? But you said you really liked this girl!”

“I did!” Jimin insists. “I asked her out, like, ten minutes after we met at a mixer!”

“You always do,” comments Namjoon. “Don’t you think maybe that has something to do with it? You fall for them so easily, and you come on so strong.”

“How many girlfriends have you had?” Hoseok demands. “How can you have this much free time to date? When I was in second year of dance I was practicing until dawn every day!”

Jimin scowls. “I practice every day!”

It’s Jin who says, “This is the fourth girl.”

“He’s a player,” Namjoon says to Jungkook, shaking his head. “Don’t be like that, okay?”

“I am not a player!”

“Maybe you should try taking your relationships more seriously,” Jin offers. “Don’t date more than one girl at a time.”

“I only date one at a time!”

In the end, Jimin flings his fork down and storms from the room, completely and utterly pissed off at his so-called friends and their completely and utterly wrong impressions about him and his love life.

-----

It’s half-past one in the morning when the door to Jimin’s room opens, quietly, and shuts again. He raises his head sleepily to see a familiar shadow drop a bag to the floor with a soft thump and then cross the room towards the bunk beds.

“You’re back,” he murmurs.

“Sorry,” comes the quiet response.

“S’ok, I wasn’t sleeping.”

There’s no reply. His roommate sits on the bottom bunk and bends down to untie his shoelaces. Jimin can’t see him, but he can hear the rustle of clothing and footwear being removed as Yoongi gets ready to go to sleep.

“How’s the song going?” Jimin asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Good,” says Yoongi, eloquent as ever. “Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

He’s glad that Yoongi came home late and wasn’t witness to the fuss at dinner. Not that Yoongi would have participated in the roasting - it isn’t his style. He barely even talks, in general, and when he does it’s in one-word sentences, usually deadpan. They’ve been roommates for about a year now, but Jimin hasn’t managed to get more than a wry smile here and there from the older boy.

Before he really knows what he’s doing, Jimin says out loud, “Hey - do you think I’m a player?”

There’s a pause. Yoongi answers in a toneless voice that Jimin can’t suss out the meaning of (is he annoyed? Bored? Doesn’t give a fuck? He can never, ever, ever tell with Min Yoongi): “What?”

“Nevermind,” Jimin mutters, embarrassed by the suddenness of his outburst and how random it must seem to his lethargic, emotionless roommate. He buries his face into his pillow, pulls the cover straight over his head, and tries his hardest to go to sleep.

-----

By the time Jimin drags himself out of bed - and gets the shock of his life once he looks in the mirror and sees himself, hair sticking out wildly and eyes all puffy like twin safety bags - Yoongi has already left the dorm. The others are mostly gone, too, with the exception of Tae and Jungkook, who have somehow managed the incredible feat of scheduling all their courses so that neither of them have to take a class before 10AM.

“Is it weird?”

Jimin’s immediately on the defensive. He swings around toast in hand, and glares at Jungkook, daring the little shit to start again on how Jimin can’t make ‘em stay.

“Sharing a room with Yoongi. He’s so serious and quiet.”

Jimin snorts. “That’s what makes him a great roommate. Unlike when I was living with you .”

“That hurts,” says Tae, genuinely sounding wounded. “Jimin, I loved being your roomie.”

“Don’t you like being my roomie?” Jungkook demands.

“Of course!” Tae leaps on him, and puts him in a headlock. “I love you! I love Jimin, too!”

Idiots, Jimin thinks, only half-scornfully. “Why wouldn’t I like being roommates with Yoongi?”

“Dunno. It just doesn’t seem like you two would get along,” Jungkook shrugs, resigned to being in a headlock and having his hair ruffled to death. It doesn’t keep him from blabbering on. “He’s all serious and committed to his music and you’re an easy-going flirt.”

“Do you guys talk at night like we used to?” Tae asks, tilting his head curiously. He stops serving Jungkook his own special brand of affection to regard Jimin curiously. “Remember how we used to do that? I miss it.”

Jimin kind of misses it, too. “We get along just fine. And we talked last night, when he got home.” He doesn’t mention that the conversation was about ten words long, and that he had made things a bit awkward and personal. “It was late, so we didn’t talk much.”

“Really? What do you guys talk about?”

“Normal stuff,” Jimin says.

“Wow. I tried talking to him,” says Taehyung. “I told him a joke. He didn’t laugh. But then the other day I heard him telling the same joke to Jin while Jin was cooking. He did it completely wrong, though, with a completely straight face. It was no good.”

Jimin can not for the life of him imagine this taking place at all.

-----

Jimin meets Wheein the following day, after his modern dance seminar. It’s Tuesday. On Thursday they have their first date. He’s sure this time it will go well. He’s taking it easy. A coffee date. She’s a dance major, too; she’s pretty and perky and their personalities are similar and complement each other.

Coffee goes as well as he expects, and they arrange for a second date the following week. A movie this time.

Jimin whistles as he gets ready, taking his time to select his outfit. Not too casual, but not too dressy, either. Cool, but a bit thrown together, like he didn’t put any extra effort in.

Surprisingly, Yoongi walks into the room as he’s putting the finishing touches on his hair - Jimin needs a haircut again. Yoongi nods, his usual form of greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey,” says Jimin, turning around, arms out. “How do I look?”

Yoongi gives him a brief once-over. “You’re fine.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really?”

Yoongi pulls out his computer chair and sits in it, planting his elbow on the desk and resting his chin on his palm. His eyebrow lifts about half an inch. “Date?”

“Yup!” Jimin grins. “She’s really pretty and nice.”

“Ah.”

“Be honest with me,” Jimin presses again, taking a step towards his stalwart roommate. “Do you think I’m cool?”

“Totally,” Yoongi says, his face devoid of all emotion. He lifts his other arm and gives Jimin a thumbs up. “If I were a girl, I’d be all over you.”

For a second, Jimin is so taken aback he has no idea what to say. And then he remembers Taehyung saying 'I told him a joke’ and ‘he did it completely wrong’. Jimin relaxes. The smile returns to his face. He even laughs a little.

Yoongi’s eyebrow stays slightly arched the entire time, but he seems satisfied enough that his humour got through. Jimin leaves for his date with a bit of a spring in his step.

-----

Jimin returns from his date with a heart that feels like it has been attached to a ten-tonne weight that has been launched into the pacific ocean. His feet drag as he enters the dorm, avoids the other boys, and throws himself into the bed.

Yoongi is sitting at the desk, headphones on, pencil tapping lightly on the table as he hums under his breath. He turns to look at Jimin, who is spread out on the bottom bunk, one arm covering his eyes. “That’s my bed.”

“I got dumped,” says Jimin without any prompting.

A beat of silence passes. “Is that so?”

“She heard from a friend that I’m not dependable. That I don’t take relationships seriously. That I’m a player.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It’s cruel!” Jimin moans into the sleeve of his carefully chosen blue bomber jacket. “I just want to be loved! Is that too much to ask for?”

Yoongi makes a sound, a cross between a grunt and a cough, which Jimin accepts as his way of offering sympathy without having to resort to actual words. He’s so upset he doesn’t even care that they don’t do this, that he usually doesn’t talk to Yoongi and Yoongi usually doesn’t talk to him. But it’s better than going to Jin, or Tae, or any of the rest.

Yoongi doesn’t give him a hard time. Yoongi doesn’t act like Jimin is the one to blame when his attempts at relationships go sour. Yoongi is a great listener, Jimin realises, and Yoongi is the only one not judging him.

He surpasses Jimin’s expectations even more when he says, “I think you’re serious.”

“Eh?” He removes his arm from his face, and lifts his head, craning his neck to meet his roommate’s gaze.

“You’re serious.” Yoongi pauses. “You… put effort into each and every date.”

He sits up, not quite able to believe what he’s hearing. Min Yoongi is actually having a conversation with him. Min Yoongi is trying to make him feel better. Min Yoongi is being nice.

“You always reply to texts and answer calls right away. If anything,” he pauses again, “-you’re too serious.”

Too eager, he means. Jimin’s heart sinks. He knows, deep down, that this is probably the truth. He scares people off. He tries too hard to be liked, to tell jokes, to make everyone feel welcome and loved and comfortable. Somehow it backfires every time, makes him seem flighty and flirtatious. He yearns to be more like Yoongi, in that moment - to be perceived as stoic and cool and serious.

“We’ve lived together in this room for a while now. I know you’re a good guy. It’s their loss.”

Jimin’s face crumples up. He can’t help it. He rolls over into a sitting position and says with heartfelt earnestness, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”

A hint of a smile plays on Yoongi’s mouth, and he nods one final time before spinning his chair around to face his computer again.

-----

“I’m going to take a break from dating,” Jimin announces at dinner.

Five pairs of eyes look at him over plates of curry rice, all wearing expressions of varying levels of suspicion and disbelief.

“Why?” Jungkook asks.

“Because,” Jimin intones grandly, “I need to focus on me.”

Jin chokes a little on his rice. Namjoon pats him on the back, and raises an eyebrow at Jimin. “Did you get dumped again?”

“Yes,” he replies, ignoring the looks being exchanged around the table.

Tae puts a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yup. I’ve come to realise that I’ve been unappreciated all this time. So I’m going to wait until the right person comes along before I give my heart away again.”

“Good for you,” says Hoseok. “Come to practice with me tomorrow morning.”

Jimin sighs and wonders why he even bothers. “Fine.”

-----

The sight of Yoongi sitting in the corner of Hoseok’s mirrored practice room gives Jimin a moment of disconnect, like maybe he’s walked into the wrong place, or he’s just seeing things. But Hoseok raises a hand in greeting, shouting “Yo, Yoongi!” and he knows it’s for real.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Hello to you, too,” says Yoongi blandly.

“I invited him. He’s going to play the song he’s been working on, and I’m gonna do a bit of choreo for it. We’re thinking of debuting it at my dance crew’s showcase.”

“Oh,” says Jimin. “Cool.”

It’s a little bit weird warming up with Yoongi in the room because dancers are a touchy-feely bunch - especially among Hoseok’s crew. Jimin has practiced with them so many times he’s like family and they have no qualms about fooling around with over the top innuendo and joke-y skinship.

Chen, one of the best dancers in the crew, especially loves teasing Jimin whenever he’s around. Jimin likes it, usually, but he feels a bit self-conscious when he looks up and notices Yoongi sitting alone in the corner with his laptop and bluetooth speakers. Yoongi isn’t watching them, exactly, but his gaze passes over Jimin every now and then, seeming to coincide with each time Chen tickles him under the ribs, or pinches his cheeks, or calls him ‘baby’ and twirls him playfully across the room.

Hoseok signals for Yoongi to play his track, and everyone sits through the first listen, nodding along to the beat. The song is really good. Like, really, really, really good. When the rapid-fire rap section begins, Jimin feels his jaw dropping. He’s heard Yoongi rap before, on the rare karaoke night and the one time he was in the audience at Namjoon’s underground freestyle concert, but it wasn’t ever like this.

The second playthrough, they’re all on their feet, dancing freestyle, coming up with moves to fit the music. Hoseok does something with his body that looks like it came straight out of a contortionist’s manual. Everyone whoops and laughs and has an amazing time. The creativity in the room almost kills Jimin with it’s intensity, and through it all, Yoongi watches, smiling, looking like even he’s having fun.

Afterwards, once he’s changed out of his sweaty clothes, Jimin heads in Yoongi’s direction, intent on telling him how awesome his song is and how fucking cool this routine is gonna turn out, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

It’s Chen. He grins, hair flopping all sweaty over his forehead, and asks, “Hey, Chimchim. You got a second? Can we talk?”

“Sure,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder at Yoongi, who is packing up his stuff. It’s not a big deal, he can talk to Yoongi back at the dorm and tell him how great this all is later.

-----

Jimin returns to the dorm rather late. He creeps into their room, hoping Yoongi isn’t back yet. The lights are off so he feels a moment of relief before he slips on a stray sock on the floor and careens right into the bunk bed, falling on something lumpy and squishy and decidedly not a pillow - bedding doesn’t usually go “oof!” when you land on it.

“Sorry!” he gasps, reeling back. Jimin flails a bit, and falls flat on his bum, hard. It hurts. He’s off balance, totally ungraceful, so completely off his game. The events of the day - his talk with Chen, particularly - are to blame.

“It’s fine.” Yoongi’s voice penetrates the dark, low and a bit husky, as if he’d been sleeping. “You OK?”

Jimin feels a flash of guilt, and apologizes again. His eyes gradually acclimatize to the pitch blackness in the room, and he finally sees the shape of Yoongi’s body in the bottom bunk. Yoongi is lying on his back, his profile dimly visible in the shadows.

“You didn’t come home for dinner.”

“No, I-,” Jimin swallows, feeling awkward and uncertain of so many things. He doesn’t know what he ought to say and what he ought to keep to himself. “I had dinner with someone else.”

“The guy from earlier.” It’s a statement as much as a question. Jimin blinks.

“Yeah,” he says, after a pause. “Chen.”

“Mm.”

“He…” Jimin stalls, inwardly debating what he should do. He wants - needs - to tell someone. He needs to talk. He needs advice and a listening ear, and Yoongi is right there and Yoongi is cool and chill and doesn’t seem to think Jimin is a relationship disaster like everyone else does.

“He asked me out,” Jimin manages to blurt out, at last. Once the words emerge, he feels a throb of sudden anxiety and wishes he could take them back.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Jimin wonders if he’s fallen asleep, he’s so still, but the sound of Yoongi’s throat being cleared tells him otherwise.

“Do you like him?”

The question surprises Jimin. “I mean… yeah. But…”

“But?”

He feels small and silly and a bit like, well, a jerk when he answers, “... he’s a guy.”

“You like girls,” is what Yoongi says.

“Yeah,” says Jimin, quietly. “I like girls.”

“You’re going to turn him down?”

Jimin chews on his bottom lip. He rubs at his hip, where he bumped it against a side-table earlier, and searches for an appropriate response. A funny sort of tight feeling clamps around his chest, making it difficult to think.

“That’s fine, you know.”

“Fine?” Jimin echoes.

“It is what it is,” says Yoongi, with a kind of finality that makes Jimin envious. He doesn’t think it's that cut and dry. Feelings are feelings, and for the first time Jimin is on the other side, the receiving end. He doesn’t want to be reckless, or callous, or he might… regret it, someday.

-----

“What’s wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, scowling ferociously.

For someone who is usually sunny and even-tempered, he gets waaaaay fired up when it comes to dance. It’s always Jimin put your foot here or Jimin practice some more or Jimin quit daydreaming and get this move right-

“Sorry,” Jimin gasps breathlessly. He gathers himself and moves into position again, determined to get the timing right this time. It’s embarrassing, he’s far better than this, and he can’t let other stuff interfere with his number one love - dance.

“From the top,” Hoseok calls out, and the beat drops again.

The group choreo is grueling, and made worse when Hoseok tells them to pair off and Jimin finds himself facing Chen.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, a bit flustered.

“You’re such an amazing dancer,” Chen says, giving Jimin a look that can only be described as admiring. It sends a little shiver down his spine, not wholly unpleasant, but it’s weird and a bit embarrassing and Jimin kind of wants it to go away.

He puts his entire attention into the routine, avoiding eye contact with Chen. Even after they get paired up with others, Jimin can feel his gaze. Jimin definitely does not look back at him. Instead he focuses on the other side of the room, where Yoongi sits, making notes in a moleskin. He’s a familiar sight, in his dark baseball cap and torn jeans, reclining easily in a chair in the corner. Even in a room full of dancers he doesn’t look out of place.

Yoongi is safe to look at, Jimin decides, cheeks flushed with inexplicable giddy embarrassment. Heck, the sight of Yoongi actually calms him, a little. Who would’ve known?

-----

Jimin doesn’t know what to do. It’s been over a week since he received a confession from another boy - a nice, cute boy who deserves an answer - but he’s operating in a haze of uncertainty.

It’s not like he… hates the idea. He usually dates girls, that’s true. Usually. But Jimin can’t deny that his heart beat a bit faster when Chen confessed, when he said that Jimin was his ideal type. Chen had said all sorts of wonderful things. Things that are making Jimin have doubts.

He’s so confused he barely notices it when Yoongi enters the room after his bath, damp-haired and wearing a towel draped over his shoulders. He sits at his desk and turns on his computer, barely acknowledging Jimin’s presence in return.

Jimin makes a sort of frustrated dying whale noise from his bed.

Yoongi takes one look at him and says, “You haven’t turned him down yet.”

Jimin climbs down out of bed and paces around the room in agony. It’s killing him. Every time he looks at his phone, at Chen’s number, he feels guilt clawing at his gut. Jimin has never not replied to a message. He always does. He’s always the last to say goodnight, the last to hang up. He can’t stand the idea of leaving someone waiting for a response. He feels terrible.

Yoongi watches, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in the middle of his forehead. He asks, bluntly, “Why haven’t you?”

It’s not that simple. Jimin’s never turned anyone down before. People don’t usually ask him out. It’s the other way around.

“Are you considering it?”

With a jolt he realises it must seem that way. If even Yoongi thinks so, then what must Chen think? Is Jimin planting false hope? Is Chen going to think Jimin is leading him on? More guilt trickles into his stomach.

“But you like girls.”

“I don’t know,” he says, finally. “I’m confused.”

“What are you confused about?”

“It's not… the first time. For me. With a guy, I mean.”

It is the first time Jimin has ever told anyone this, though.

Yoongi looks at him sharply. Jimin supposes it’s only normal for Yoongi to be surprised. He shrugs. “I was pretty young. I got along well with this older boy at school, and we kind of… just went with it. He said he really liked me. I liked him, too. I think we were both just curious, but maybe I just took it more seriously than he did. After a while he broke it off, because he said it was too stressful. Hiding it, you know?”

Jimin hasn’t thought about his first and only boyfriend in a long time. He hasn’t had one since. It just never seemed worth it, if you have to hide it all the time. Girls are everywhere, they’re pretty and easy to get along with and dating a girl is simple, uncomplicated. Relatively speaking. For other people, anyway.

Yoongi gets out of his chair, his towel dropping with a soft thump to the floor. “You’ve had a secret boyfriend?”

“I guess so,” says Jimin, with a nervous laugh. He can’t exactly read Yoongi’s expression. It’s no longer his usual poker face - instead he’s somewhere in between genuine surprise and disbelief. He looks almost… angry.

“I thought you only liked girls, all this time.” Yoongi stares at him, eyes flicking over his face, studying his features - as if gauging the honesty of what Jimin has told him. “You only date girls.”

“Well, I-” Jimin begins, and then falters as Yoongi comes close, advancing one step at a time, eyes never leaving Jimin’s face.

“I thought… there would be no point.” Yoongi shakes his head. “All this time, I’ve been holding back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jimin,” says Yoongi, unsteadily. As unsteadily as Jimin has ever seen him. Yoongi is as stoic as a rock, and twice as unmovable.

Jimin doesn’t understand. He feels a current in the air,  tension as thick as molasses. The sensation is so strange, so different from their usual interactions. He takes an unconscious step backwards.

“Yoongi? What are you doing?”

“Jimin, I-”

Jimin’s not really sure if Yoongi finishes his sentence or not. It sounds a lot like something he’s heard recently, something that can’t possibly be coming from his quiet roommate, of all people.

“What?”

Suddenly he’s close, so very close, right up in Jimin’s space, that serious face of his hovering inches away. The smell of shampoo hits Jimin, and he suddenly remembers that Yoongi has just come out of the shower. His hair is wet, and there is a bead of water on the side of his neck, and he is very, very, very close.

Jimin freezes like a deer caught in headlights.  

“If you don’t want to, say no,” says Yoongi, the timbre of his voice low, commanding.

Astonishment takes over and renders Jimin useless and mute. A fraction of a second later, there isn’t any space at all between them, just the feeling of hands ghosting across his jaw and soft, dry lips pressing against his own. Jimin’s head goes frighteningly blank for a heartbeat, before it starts screaming a high-pitched EEEEEEEEEEE, except silently because Jimin can’t actually make any noise, because Jimin is being kissed by his roommate Min Yoongi and his mouth isn’t available for anything else.

Jimin feels a hand on his neck and gasps - his lips part and a tongue licks into his mouth, deepening the kiss. He doesn’t resist, not at all, instinctively letting Yoongi press in even closer, until he’s flat against the wall with two hands caging in either side of him. He lets Yoongi kiss him until his knees go weak and his fingers are buried in Yoongi’s soft brown hair and he feels lightheaded, lungs burning, gut aching. His reaction to the kiss scares him - it’s too intense, too visceral.

So when Yoongi pulls back, breathing heavily, Jimin… just… well.

Jimin runs away.

Sort of.

He runs away, but there really isn’t anywhere for him to go. He gets as far as the washroom, where he barricades himself with the flimsy lock that needs replacing and sits on the toilet with the seat down. He stays in there until Jungkook wakes up about twenty minutes later and bangs on the door, bitching about how he needs to pee SO badly and would Jimin hurry the hell up? Jimin ignores him for a few minutes, but gives in when it becomes clear Jungkook is not gonna stop and the racket he’s making is going to wake up everyone in the dorm. It’s the last goddamn thing Jimin needs at the moment. He vacates the bathroom reluctantly, gives Jungkook a dirty look and a slap across the arm for the snarky ‘what were you having a baby in there?’ comment he gets from the brat.

With shaky trepidation he returns to his room. Yoongi, of course, is waiting for him. He’s sitting on his bed, staring at the floor, his face hidden in the shadows of the bunk. His shoulders are hunched inwards, and it makes him look smaller than he actually is.

Yoongi doesn’t look up when Jimin enters. But he says, brusquely, “I’m sorry.”

It’s on the tip of Jimin’s tongue to say ‘it’s okay’ but he swallows it down. Because it kinda isn’t, no matter how you look at it. You don’t just… kiss people. You don’t do that. It’s not fair, and it’s cruel, and it’s confusing as fuck. Now that he’s had some time to freak out in the bathroom, Jimin realises that he’s actually kind of… upset.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi continues in that unique way he has of talking, where there’s no emotion in his voice.

Robotic. The opposite of how he had been minutes ago. It might as well have been a different person who had cornered Jimin and kissed him like no one had ever kissed him before.

Something hot and hard and breathless burns in his gut. Jimin takes a deep breath, walks across the room, and climbs up into the top bunk without saying a word.

-----

He’s still kinda mad, in the morning. Still confused. He’s gonna need some time to sort all of this out in his own head, before he can decide what he’s gonna do. It never rains but it pours, Jimin thinks with a sour grimace.

Jimin treads lightly on the floorboards in his socks, carrying his bag close to his body so it doesn’t rustle. The lump in the bottom bunk doesn’t move, but Jimin holds his breath anyway until he’s clear of the door. He slips into the hallway and the empty common room with a sigh of relief. Then he turns the corner into the kitchen to grab a banana on-the-go, and his heart stops.

Someone’s already there.

“Morning,” says Yoongi, pausing in the middle of rummaging in the fridge. He doesn’t turn around.

Jimin can’t help but notice how Yoongi’s hair is messy from sleep, how it sticks out a little over his ears, and how pale the back of Yoongi’s neck is - like the rest of him, probably, all the parts of his skin that Jimin can’t see. He can still feel Yoongi’s mouth if he really  concentrates, can remember clearly how hot and sweet the kiss was despite the circumstances. To his horror, his own lips tingle at the memory and a wave of searing embarrassment sweeps over him from head to toe.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says again. This time he straightens up, turns his head to meet Jimin’s gaze. He doesn’t sound quite as dispassionate as before, and he looks… contrite. Genuinely so, enough to make the last of Jimin’s anger fade away.

“It’s just that I’ve always liked you. If you ever showed signs of liking boys, I told myself I would make a move.”

The words make something flutter in the pit of Jimin’s stomach. It’s surreal. That this is happening to him, that Min Yoongi is confessing to him - he wants to pinch himself, in case it’s all some kind of crazy fever dream.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Jimin asks, looking at the floor, at the clock, at a wilting houseplant that none of them ever remembers to water, anywhere but at Yoongi’s face.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Okay,” he says, heart hammering against his ribs. He needs to get out of here, away from Yoongi, as quickly as possible before he explodes from this baffling, tormenting feeling in his chest.

-----

On Wednesday, Chen renews his confession. The next day, in a quiet corner of the campus cafeteria, Jimin turns him down. He doesn’t give a particular reason why, but Chen accepts his rejection with an understanding - if pained - smile.

If you’re considering him…

If that’s the case… if it’s not too late...

How about me?

Not fair, Jimin thinks, staring blankly at his lecturer’s scribbles on the blackboard. He hasn’t heard a single word of the lecture since in began. All he can hear is Yoongi’s voice, pitched low and deep, saying his name, saying I like you-

Jimin stays out late, studying at the library or going to karaoke or the movies or playing starcraft at an internet cafe with some friends. People rib him about being a flirt, a couple of girls hit on him, but he just laughs and brushes them off and pretends he’s not currently experiencing the greatest inner turmoil of his entire life.

I’ve always liked you.

Jimin’s dorm mates don’t seem to notice that Jimin is acting weirdly. Taehyung doesn’t mind at all when Jimin shows up one evening in their old room, the one he shares with Jungkook now, and is absolutely delighted when Jimin asks if he wants to have a horror movie marathon over the weekend. He even convinces Tae to build a pillow fort, the perfect excuse to grab his own pillow and blankets and bunker down in his friend’s room for the night.

If anyone notices - well, they don’t say anything about it. He needs some more time. Jimin’s still thinking stuff over. He can’t possibly make a decision if he can’t have a moment of peace. Being around Yoongi… even being near Yoongi makes him feel hot all over, impossibly awkward and self-conscious and weird.

He manages to avoid Yoongi for a solid week without much trouble. Then the inevitable happens.

Jimin’s in the middle of folding his laundry and putting it away before he sprints to Taehyung’s room for Ju-On: The Final Curse when his roommate walks into the room, wearing a towel over his shoulders. It feels eerily familiar. Jimin’s instincts ramp up into full flight-or-fight mode, leaning towards the former, and he’s one-hundred-percent ready to turn tail and run.

Yoongi seems to sense this, and stops Jimin in his tracks with a single word. Yoongi says his name, all solemn and deep, and Jimin comes to a standstill, both figuratively and literally. His pulse quickens. He gathers courage and turns to look at Yoongi at last, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees what he does.

Yoongi looks... tired. Run down. There are bags under his eyes and his cheeks are sallow, lips bloodless. It’s not uncommon, but there’s a weariness in his gaze that makes something twinge deep in Jimin’s chest - it could be worry or guilt or sympathy or maybe all of those things at once.

“We need to talk.”

Despite his best efforts, Jimin knows this is unavoidable. He braces himself, wonders how it’s going to play out, wonders how he can make an escape without hurting either of them. He doesn’t expect to hear what Yoongi says next:

“Look. Just forget about all of it, okay?” Yoongi rolls out his desk chair and sits in it. His shoulders droop as he leans forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together loosely. “I won’t ask you for a reply.”

Jimin’s throat is horribly dry. Somehow he manages to ask, “You won’t?”

“No.”

Yoongi traces his palm with a thumbnail, the corners of his mouth tight. The note of strain in his voice makes that odd little twinge in Jimin’s chest deepen into a full-fledged pang. He wants to say something to make the furrow in Yoongi’s brow smooth out, but it’s impossible.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” the words pour out of Yoongi’s mouth, but Jimin barely hears them over his own chaotic thoughts. “You don’t have to keep avoiding me. Let’s just pretend it never happened, and go back to being friends.”

Jimin doesn’t know what to say.

“Is that okay?”

He honestly doesn’t know.

-----

“You know,” says Jungkook, waiting for Jin to finish grilling his meat like a five-year-old waiting his due, “You haven’t gone on a date in a while.”

There’s a pause, in which Jimin says, “So?”

“I’m surprised,” says Namjoon. “You said you were taking a break from dating but I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

“I’m a man of my words,” Jimin retorts, offended.

“Self-control is not the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you, that’s all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re needy,” Jungkook quips, holding his plate out for the meat Jin is cutting up into bite-sized pieces on the table grill.

Jin gives him a look, frowns, and gives the meat to Jimin instead. “Don’t listen to them. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Jimin says, and chews the offering slowly. He’s careful to keep his eyes on his plate and not at Yoongi, who has been silent the entire time, keeping his head bent down at the other end of the table while he eats quietly.

Just pretend it never happened.

That’s exactly what they’ve done. Pretend.

Yoongi doesn’t talk to Jimin, just like before, and Jimin doesn’t let it show on his face that he thinks about the kiss and what Yoongi looked like right before it and what Yoongi said over and over again. He doesn’t let on that he replays it like a dvd stuck on repeat in his head, agonizing over what he can’t change.

He’ll pretend, but there’s no way he’ll be able to forget it happened.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump. Jin frowns at him, looking concerned, and asks, “Are you okay? You seem kind of out of it, lately.”

“I’m fine,” Jimin chirps, and doubles his efforts to be cheerful for the rest of dinner, until even Jin is convinced he’s perfectly normal and perfectly happy.

Taehyung comes in late, fights with Jungkook for the last morsels of meat, Namjoon gives him a noogie, Jin makes him do the dishes, and Jimin laughs as if nothing is wrong. No one really notices when Yoongi slips away before the rest, except for Jimin, because Jimin is all too aware that the tables have turned.

He’s the one being avoided, these days.

It bothers him more than it should. It’s not like there is any actual drop in interaction levels between him and Yoongi. Before The Thing they hadn’t talked much, and now After The Thing they’re basically just reverting to type. On a line graph of Yoongi-vs-Jimin-over-Time The Thing is a mere blip, an anomaly barely worth noting.

Yoongi acts like nothing ever happened, and that makes it even worse. It bothers Jimin, and worse, it bothers Jimin that it bothers him - so it’s all just a vicious cycle that keeps Jimin awake at night, listening for Yoongi’s even breathing from the bottom bunk, hating him just a little bit for being able to sleep so soundly when Jimin’s insides feel more and more like wobbly jello with each passing day.

-----

“Did you get dumped again, or something?”

“No.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood, then?”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, right. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Just spill it. You know you can tell me anything!”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Stop lying-”

“I’m not-”

“I know you are, I can tell-”

“ I’m not-”

“But-”

“Just drop it, Taehyung.”

“You-”

“I said, drop it!”

Jimin almost spits the last two words, he’s so frustrated.

Taehyung looks at him, back ramrod straight, clearly offended by the curt tone. He shrugs, a bit coolly, and Jimin curses himself inwardly for hurting his best friend’s feelings.

He’s not himself, he knows. There’s a hollow feeling in his gut, equal parts irritation and yearning for something he can’t name, and it drives him up the wall. He feels like he’s just waiting for something like a trigger to set him off. For the first time in his life Jimin wants to do something insanely stupid and violent like punch a hole into a wall with his fist.

A wall, or a door, or even someone’s face. A particular one floats into his mind, and he bats the mental image away.

Control yourself, he thinks, shakily. There’s absolutely no reason for him to feel this way.

-----

Hoseok is a bunch of frazzled nerves on the night of the showcase, and his anxiety rubs off on the rest of the crew, including Jimin. Stuff goes wrong, as it always does, and Jimin thinks Hoseok might actually cry until Yoongi makes an appearance, an hour late, and pulls Hoseok aside to talk to him. They emerge a few minutes later, Yoongi looking grim and Hoseok looking a little more calm. Jimin wonders what was said, but doesn’t ask. Whatever it is, it worked, which is all that matters.

Once the show starts, however, the nerves and stress simply melt away.

Hoseok is dazzling during his solo performance. He’s an amazing dancer, the very best, and Jimin swallows back the lump in his throat as he watches, an ache in his chest. He wants to be that good, yearns for it, and suddenly he can’t remember why he hasn’t been grateful and eager for every single one of Hoseok’s “come practice with me” orders.

Jimin’s taken it all for granted.

“You’re going to be amazing up there, too,” says a voice behind him. Jimin turns, his heart doing a little flip in his chest, his smile a fraction slow.

Chen pats him on the shoulder. “Break a leg.”

When it’s his turn, the lights seem blindingly bright, making it difficult to see anyone in the crowd. A familiar voice screams his name - Jimin squints hard until he can make out the face of the person waving their arms madly in the front row - and resists the incredibly silly and unprofessional urge to wave back to his best friend. Taehyung keeps screaming until someone tells him to shut up, causing a wave of laughter to ripple through the room, and then the music starts and Jimin moves.

-----

His legs are a bit wobbly afterwards, and it takes a while for his heart to stop pounding in his chest, but it feels good. It feels so damn good to dance on a stage. Jimin’s a little giddy. He gets high-fives and hugs and ‘holy shit, dude!’s from everyone backstage.

“Oh, Jimin- here! Someone told me to give this to you-” One of the backup dancers hands Jimin a folded piece of paper, before running off.

It says, in a messy scrawl, as if written in haste, “Meet me in the parking lot.”

Jimin looks around, holding the crumpled note in his palm. Everyone is busy packing up, making plans to go eat, or drink, or hook up. Hoseok is still out front, still mingling with his fans. He spots Chen in a corner, chatting with a stage manager.

Yoongi isn’t there. Yoongi isn’t anywhere, not on stage, not backstage, not in the makeshift changing rooms.

Adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Jimin steps out into the parking lot and spots someone sitting under a street lamp with their back to him. A massive oversized hoodie covers their head, so he can’t identify who it is until they turn to greet him.

“Hey,” says Wheein, flashing him her big, pretty smile. “You were really good, tonight. Really cool.”

“Thanks,” says Jimin, his stomach dropping.

He’s exhausted, and it takes longer than he expects to extricate himself from Wheein’s company. Finally, Jimin returns to the venue, turns down a couple of party invitations along the way, and seeks out his friends. Jin’s here to pick them up in a borrowed car, but the back seat is barely big enough to accommodate Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi, and Yoongi’s sound equipment. Jimin is crammed up against the car door, Taehyung pressed up against him, and Yoongi on the other side with a giant black duffel bag on his lap.

“What were you doing in the parking lot?” Jin asks from the driver’s seat. “I saw you when I arrived.”

“Just talking to a friend,” Jimin replies, resting his head against the window.

“A secret rendez-vous?” Taehyung grins, leaning his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. He’s still giddy, still infected with crowd enthusiasm. Then again, he didn’t have to perform. His muscles aren’t aching from exertion and endless rehearsals and a vague relief that it’s over. “With a girl? Did she fall in love with you at first sight after seeing you dance?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jimin says, shoving Tae’s head away. His breath tickles and it’s too hot in the car. “It was Wheein.”

“The girl who dumped you?” Jin peers at him in the rearview mirror. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. Just small talk. Said she liked my performance.”

“Does she want you back or something?”

Jimin sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t understand girls.”

Everyone laughs, except Jimin. Yoongi, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, changes the subject to call first dibs on the bathroom when they get home. Someone apparently spilled a bottle of energy drink on him backstage.

-----

There are four new messages on Jimin’s phone, all from Wheein, when he comes out of the shower. He scrolls through them, frowning, not sure how to feel about this change of heart. It’s not that he doesn’t like Wheein anymore or anything like that. He does, she’s still a cool person and fun to be with and he appreciates what she said about misunderstanding him and the error of taking good intentions the wrong way and her apology for hurting his feelings. It’s more insight than expected from someone he’d only dated a couple of times, and Jimin doesn’t want to take that for granted.

He’s trying to think of something polite to text back without engaging in further conversation when Yoongi speaks to him for the first time all night.

“Good for you.”

At first the words don’t compute in Jimin’s brain. He’s distracted and preoccupied.Then it sinks in - the tone, the disingenuous phrasing, the way Yoongi doesn’t look up when he speaks.

“What?”

“She’s interested again. The girl you liked.”

Jimin lets his phone drop onto the desk. Something hot flares in his stomach. He turns to look at his roommate and snaps, “What would you know about it?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, so Jimin goes on, furious, “I am so sick and tired of everyone in this dorm acting like my relationships are public business. It’s not your business. Don’t act like you… like you know anything about my relationship with Wheein. Or with anyone, for that matter.”

His outburst is met by a wall of silence. Jimin’s a little shocked himself, by how angry and petulant he sounds.

“You’re right. I was out of line.” Yoongi looks away. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Are you angry?”

The question absolutely infuriates Jimin. He can’t remember the last time he felt this angry.

They’d been doing just fine, avoiding each other, pretending like nothing had happened. Yoongi should have just kept going with his silent treatment and Jimin shouldn’t have responded to the bait. Because that’s what it was, he thinks with a flash of sudden, terrible understanding. It was meant to provoke.

Yoongi, who had said I won’t ask for a reply.

Yoongi, who had taken back his confession.

Yoongi, who wasn’t allowed to have opinions on who Jimin dated when he didn’t have a single stake in that department.

“Do you care?”

A pause. Yoongi says, simply, “I do.”

A shiver runs down Jimin’s spine. He can’t stop the well of hurt from rising in his chest and spilling over into his voice.

“You shouldn’t,” Jimin says flatly. “You shouldn’t care who I date or like. It’s none of your business.”

Something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes. “You’re right. It’s none of my business. I take it back.”

“Of course you would,” Jimin mutters, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. He regrets it right away.

Yoongi notices. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Jimin snaps.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Forget it.”

“You’re angry,” Yoongi just says again, like a broken record.

Ding ding ding.

Weeks of pent up emotion push at Jimin’s patience. He wants to, god, he doesn’t know what, but he wants to do something. He wants to lash out. He just seethes, silently, wishing he didn’t feel this way.

Jimin says, face flushing hotly, “No, I’m not.”

“I’m just trying to understand right now,” says Yoongi slowly. “Because I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Because it looks like you’re saying something different from what you said before.”

Jimin’s head snaps up.

“Are you?” Yoongi asks softly. “Have you-” his eyes flick from Jimin’s eyes to his mouth and back up again, “-changed your mind?”

I saw a chance and took it. The words float through his mind, in Yoongi’s voice, and Jimin can still picture clearly the way he looked when he said it.

“Jimin?” Yoongi comes as close to pleading as Jimin has ever heard him.

Yoongi looks at Jimin and waits.

Jimin, I really like you.

Jimin… how about me?

Jimin opens his mouth, panic-stricken, but nothing comes out. Seconds tick past in heavy, suffocating silence.

“Right.” Yoongi’s mouth contorts. The tautness in his shoulders hardens into something even colder, more bloodless. “Nothing’s changed, then.”

Yoongi’s always been good at hiding what he feels under a poker face, but body language doesn’t lie. He’s disappointed. Hurt. Jimin remembers the shape of Yoongi in the dark bunk bed, bent around himself, hiding his feelings in order to protect Jimin’s. He remembers the brief millisecond of hope in Yoongi’s eyes from a moment ago, and his gut twists almost painfully.

“I figured,” Yoongi says, and turns to leave the room.

Jimin reaches out without thinking and seizes his wrist to stop him. Electricity sizzles between his fingertips and the skin over Yoongi’s pulse where Jimin touches him. Their heartbeats coincide - racing madly, trying to outrun each other - all this time never quite on the same wavelength, always just that fraction of a note off beat.

“You’re right,” Jimin says bravely, swallowing his fears and anxiety. “Yoongi, you were right. I-”

He can’t find the words. He tries and tries, but there’s no way to express what he’s feeling, the way his heart hammers in his chest. He just wants to wipe that look of hurt off Yoongi’s face and replace it with something better. Yoongi shouldn’t look like that. Yoongi deserves to look good, Yoongi deserves to not be lonely, Yoongi deserves things that Jimin doesn’t quite know how to give him - but he tries.

There’s a hurricane in his chest as he steps forward, reaching for the hem of Yoongi’s sweater.

“If you don’t want to,” Jimin says, voice trembling only a little, “Say no.”

Yoongi stands very still. Jimin leans in and brushes his mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips feel the same, as soft as in Jimin’s memory, and just as warm. He pulls back, knowing he has veered headlong into territory that can’t be redacted. But the look of wonderment in Yoongi’s eyes erases whatever fears Jimin might have had in that moment and his heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of his chest.

“I like you, too,” Jimin says, pressing his forehead to Yoongi’s.

“No take-backs,” says Yoongi, closing his eyes. There’s a smile lurking on the corner of his mouth, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to kiss it.

-----

“I’m glad you’re back to normal,” says Taehyung at dinner the next day, throwing his arm over Jimin’s shoulders. “You really scared me.”

“Sorry,” says Jimin, blushing.

“What was up with that, anyway?” Jungkook scowls.

“I was going through something,” Jimin says loftily. “There was a misunderstanding.”

Jin puts meat on his plate. “You sorted it out?”

“Yup.” Jimin beams. “By the way, I have a date tomorrow.”

There’s a chorus of mock-groans and eye-rolling from everyone around the table. Jimin doesn’t care. Under the table, he squeezes Yoongi’s hand and Yoongi squeezes back.