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If Jimin’s eyes were winter, then his breath was fall, his words were summer, and his smile was spring.
His smile was spring because the way the corners of his lips tugged up reminded Yoongi of a breath of fresh air, of the morning dew sprinkled on leaves. Yoongi will be damned if he said that same smile didn't shine so bright that it acted as the sun for something inside him that had also begun to take root and blossom. (Yoongi caught feelings.)
His words were summer because of the way they would cause fireworks in Yoongi’s mind, a celebration that rivals a night of July 4th, the explosions of color in his chest from the pretty shades of painted words always causing him to feel warm. (Yoongi knows he shouldn't feel this way.)
His breath was fall, a slow transition from 9AM sighs after coffee to 7PM sighs watching a sunset, similar to the gradual fade from green leaves to orange and red and yellow, a change that not everyone notices. (Yoongi notices. Yoongi admires. Yoongi loves.)
Jimin’s eyes were winter. A deep, warm brown hue but a gaze so cold that it sends shivers down Yoongi’s spine and causes goosebumps to crawl their way up his arms. Beautiful, breathtakingly so, but so, so lifeless, freezing, void. A gorgeous season that takes and destroys. A gaze that takes and destroys. Jimin takes and destroys. Jimin took and destroyed.
Yoongi hadn't meant to ever tell Jimin about his feelings. Yoongi buried those feelings into the back of his mind, because who has these kinds of feelings for their best friend? They've known each other for so long that it might even be seen as incest. (And incest is where Yoongi draws the line.)
And Yoongi was doing great at keeping his emotions on the down low (or so he thinks), but it only took about 5 cups of beer and a couple shots for Jimin to assist Yoongi to the bathroom and for Yoongi to confess his love right then and there, because maybe there was something romantic about his best buddy patting his back as he was hunched over a toilet emptying out the cup ramen and mandu he had for dinner. Yoongi barely sobered up after a couple more minutes of retching into the toilet. He almost missed catching Jimin’s small smile and ‘I know.’ (Yoongi did catch it. He kind of wishes he didn't.)
Taehyung, The Annoying Roommate That Yoongi Secretly Really Adores™, never fails to send worrying looks Yoongi’s direction and in his own way cares for Yoongi by introducing him to various types of people. It never works out though, of course, since the person’s smile wouldn't dimple on one side like Jimin's, their eyes don't melt into the smile like Jimin's, they don't smell like the familiar old spice body wash of Jimin's, their voice isn't soft yet crisp like Jimin’s, their skin doesn't have the soft glow like Jimin's, their laugh doesn't chime through the air like Jimin's. They just weren't enough. (They just weren't Jimin.)
Said roommate was currently talking into the banana tucked between his ear and shoulder as he dried the dishes. Yoongi didn't really want to know, but he questioned it anyway.
“Taehyung, what are you doing?”
“Sorry, hold on pleaseㅡ” Taehyung muttered into the stem of the banana, putting the last of the dried plates into the proper designated places before making his way to the living room couch across from Yoongi. He plopped himself down. “What does it look like, Yoongi? I’m talking to someone.”
“You're talking to a banana.”
Taehyung sighed and placed the banana onto the table.
“So how'd the date from last night go?”
Yoongi didn't have to ask to know that Taehyung was talking about the 7th guy Taehyung has set him up with. Yoongi quietly shook his head. Taehyung groaned and pivoted his body as he fell backwards so that his head hit the armrest and his feet were on the other end.
“I’m sorry, alright? You don't have to keep doing thisㅡ”
“But I want to, Yoongi.” Taehyung cuts him off almost a little too sharply before he softly adds like an afterthought, “I want to help you.” And Yoongi couldn't say anything to that. They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Oh!” Yoongi did a jolt that he'd never admit to from the sudden interruption in the quiet atmosphere, his widened eyes on the taller male that jumped up and was now sitting cross-legged in the seat. “There's a party at Hoseok’s on Saturday night, you might meet someone there!” And Taehyung was right, because not only was Hoseok's house huge, the social butterfly had enough connections to throw the biggest parties known to everyone on campus. Thankfully, Hoseok decided to throw a party on a weekend and not a school night. (Everyone shows up anyway and the university looks like a haven for the living dead the next day.)
Yoongi pursed his lips. He wanted to decline since there was a test on Monday and knowing how he is hungover, he'd have to cram everything today(or tonight, it was currently 8 in the evening) and tomorrow, but there was a twinkle in Taehyung's eyes and Yoongi knew that Taehyung has already made a firm decision and there was no point in trying to change his fate.
“Alright,” Yoongi said, pulling out his backpack. And then he began his long night.
* * * * *
Yoongi stirred awake to pitch black darkness. It took a moment for his body to process the stiffness that his cheek was feeling. He groaned and sat up to realize he fell asleep on one of his opened textbooks. He ran his hands over his face and stood up, shuffling his feet towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. Only when he closed the fridge did he notice the note sticking to it.
‘Work called me, I have to work the night and morning shift ㅠㅠ I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.
Love,
TaeTae ♡’
Yoongi questioned why Taehyung thought it would be a good idea to leave a note for him on the fridge. He concluded that it was probably because the roommate assumed Yoongi would see it in the morning as he got breakfast.
Yoongi was dragged away from his thoughts when he registered the sound of the doorbell. He glanced towards the living room clock. 11:45PM. Who the fuck is here during this hour? Yoongi would have ignored it, but it might have been Taehyung on the other side of the door. Maybe his shift ended early and he forgot his keys. Again. Yoongi didn't bother calling out in confirmation because the soundproof walls would deem it fruitless. He checked the peephole before opening the door just in case and was greeted with the sight of a familiar mop of raven hair.
“Hyung,” Jimin gave a weak smile. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he was wearing easy-to-move-in clothes, so Yoongi assumed that he was in the dance studio until now. Yoongi would’ve made a snarky remark about how it was almost 12 in the fucking morning but Jimin looked so, so very tired. Yoongi stepped aside to let him in.
“Were you stress-dancing again?” Yoongi asked. Jimin laid down on the couch. Yoongi sat at the other end, allowing Jimin’s feet to rest on his lap. Jimin hummed in verification. Yoongi sighed. Jimin was always so hard on himself. Always so stressed out. Always so insecure. Yoongi doesn't know why. He wants to know why. He wants to know why the most perfect being in the world that deserves all the happiness of the universe just doesn't quite realize that’s he’s a blessing. Yoongi was about to stand up to fetch Jimin a drink but when Jimin shifted his legs, he cringed. Yoongi froze and sat back down. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Jimin muttered. “My thighs are just sore.”
Yoongi sighed again. “That's why you don't overexert yourself, punk.”
“Dancing helps me feel better, hyung.” Jimin says. And Yoongi knows that. Yoongi sees the passion that ignites in Jimin whenever he dances. He's watched the passion sprout and he's watched Jimin nurture it throughout the years. Yoongi twisted himself so he was sitting cross legged, facing Jimin.
“Come here, kid.” And whatever complaint was about to escape Jimin's lips faded away to an exhale of relief when Yoongi started massaging his legs. Jimin adjusted himself and was now leaning against the armrest and Yoongi scooted closer.
Yoongi was making his way up and down Jimin’s legs but stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Don't do that,” Jimin shuddered, dangerously soft. Yoongi was still staring with question into Jimin's blown pupils until his eyes trailed down and realized that Jimin's knuckles were turning white from how hard they were gripping the hem of Jimin’s shirt. It took a second for Yoongi to realize that with the location of his hands on Jimin’s thighs, he probably brushed against his crotch, andㅡoh my god , is Jimin turned on from the massage?
Yoongi was frozen in a state of shock. He was contemplating life and existence. He thinks he should change his name and move countries and cut off contact with everyone he knows and maybe starting new doesn't sound so bad.
He doesn't know who moved first. He doesn't think Jimin knows either, because now their lips were crashing against each other like the tsunami of emotions was crashing against Yoongi’s heart.
Yoongi’s hands snaked up and raked through Jimin’s onyx hair, so dark that Yoongi swears that Jimin probably wove the night sky into it. And he could feel it, he could feel something in his chest tugging him closer and closer to Jimin until they’re pressed up against each other like they weren't ever two separate beings to begin with. They finally pulled away, gasping for air. Yoongi wanted to say no, we shouldn't be doing this, this isn't right but it sure as hell felt right and the words got caught in his throat when he saw Jimin's plush pink lips swollen from the kiss, gaze hooded and skin glowing from the moonlight peeking through the curtains. Their lips connected again as Jimin stood up with Yoongi’s legs wrapped around his waist, hands supporting his thighs as he made his way to Yoongi’s bedroom.
Yoongi let him.
* * * * *
Jimin was so gentle. He took it slow, making sure Yoongi was comfortable the whole time. He muttered sweet nothings into Yoongi’s ear, and they cuddled and drifted to sleep after they both reached their highs.
It was perfect. Jimin is so perfect. They were so perfect. So Yoongi was more than a little bit heartbroken when he woke up to only the scent of the Old Spice bodywash on the sheets but no trace of the younger male anywhere. He got up and readied himself for the day anyway after shooting a text to Jimin, but now it was already the 3rd lecture and Yoongi was yet to receive a text back. (He’d text again but he’s already sent five.) he’s worried that something happened to the younger male.
Or he’s avoiding me, Yoongi thought bitterly. We’re best friends. We can work this out. We were just exhausted and not thinking right.
Yoongi knows that's a lie. Why regret something he once wanted? (Or something he still wants.)
The rest of the day went by in a drag, and he was never more thankful for the soft welcoming embrace of his home with the weekend looming over him.
* * * * *
Taehyung blasted Disney soundtracks the whole drive to Hoseok’s house.
“Text me if something happens, alright?” Taehyung said before making his way to the dance floor (aka the living room on other occasions), his voice still a little raspy from yelling the lyrics to ‘Reflection’ from Mulan at the top of his lungs.
The word ‘text’ caused Yoongi to flinch a little. He still hasn't received a reply from theㅡnow, 10ㅡmessages he sent and it only serves to remind Yoongi that Jimin has been avoiding him for the past two days.
Yoongi retreated to the kitchen to get a drink and almost dropped it when he entered the dance floor.
There he was, the man that's been the sources of Yoongi’s distress for the past few days (a few years, actually.) Jimin was gripping the waist of the girl from Yoongi’s philosophy class as she was grinding on him. Jimin’s hair color was different now, a dirty blonde, a color that suited him so terribly well that it almost distracted him from noticing Jimin pulling her to the nearest sofa and straddling her on his lap. Yoongi turned away before he could see anything else.
Yoongi’s not an idiot. He knows that the tight leather pants Taehyung made him wear looked good. He's caught a couple people admiring his thighs the moment he walked in. He scanned the room and locked eyes with a tall, handsome male. It was probably the frustration and hurt he was feeling because Yoongi doesn't have sex with just anyoneㅡJimin knows Yoongi doesn't just have sex with anyone, but Yoongi stomped his way through the dance floor, tugged the collar of the tall male to pull him down and it felt so wrong because the lips weren't Jimin’s but Yoongi didn't care. The taller male made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat but reciprocated shortly after. What was Yoongi even expecting, anyway? Jimin was known for sleeping around, it was nothing, it was a mistake, and Yoongi probably wasn't half as good as most of the lays Jimin manages to snatch.
The fact that Yoongi shouldn't even be frustrated made him feel even worse. Jimin and him weren't even anything, but the fact Jimin would fuck him senseless, avoid him and then move on like it's no big deal just set him off. Yoongi! Doesn't! Sleep! With! Just! Anyone! Jimin sure as hell knows that. Yoongi felt betrayed, as if Jimin broke a certain level of trust.
Yoongi pulled away, gasping for air.
“Namjoon,” the tall male said.
“Yoongi,” he managed before their lips locked again and Namjoon sneaked his hands up Yoongi’s shirt before sliding back down and slipping his hands into Yoongi’s back pockets to grab his ass. They pulled apart again and Namjoon grabbed Yoongi’s wrists to lead him to an empty bedroom. They passed the sofa Jimin was seated in on the way. Their gazes met. Jimin was glaring. Yoongi stared back with just as much venom.
Yoongi closed the door behind him. Yoongi straddled Namjoon’s hips, the bed frame creaking as Yoongi crawled on top. He grinded down, emitting groans from the both of them. Heat was pooling in Yoongi’s abdomen and he was too annoyed to bother considering that he might regret this. He kept grinding down, beginning to go at a pace, Namjoon’s hands balancing his waist. He bent over to place a sloppy kiss, a moan escaping his lips as said male started planting trails down Yoongi’s neck.
They both jumped when the door slammed open. Yoongi whipped his head around in hopes that maybeㅡjust maybe, Jimin was affected.
“Ah? What are you guys doingㅡ” Hoseok hiccuped. “ㅡIn my bedroom? Y'all gross.”
At this point Yoongi’s boner shrivelled and died along with his dignity so he crawled off and walked out. He didn't worry too much about Hoseok remembering anything since he seemed shitfaced drunk.
Yoongi probably looked like quite the sight, hair mussed up and lips swollen with hickeys on his neck but he really felt like he needed to drink and since he's not quite sure where the drink he got earlier went, he went to the kitchen to retrieve a new one.
He took a swing at a bottle of beer. He heard a whistle from the doorway.
“What do you want, Tae?”
“Already drinking? It's so earlyㅡMin fucKING YOONGI! WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE ON YOUR NECK?”
Yoongi slipped into one of the chairs at the table. “What do they look like?”
“Iㅡhave youㅡbut I thoughtㅡwhat the fuck?” Taehyung stuttered, almost comically. Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“I’m an adult, Tae.”
“NoㅡI mean yeah, butㅡ”
“Don’t worry, I didn't do anything. We were interrupted.” Yoongi took another swing, but the bottle was already empty. He opened another one. “Come sit down instead of gaping there like an idiot.” The younger sat down obediently.
“I…” Taehyung began but trailed off.
“I slept with Jimin.”
“ㅡWhat?”
Yoongi didn't meet dare to meet Taehyung's eyes.
“Can you repeat that?” Taehyung whispered harshly.
“I slept with Jimin.” Yoongi’s words were becoming slurred. He chugged down the rest of the bottle and another before opening the fourth one.
“Stop,” Taehyung pried the bottle from Yoongi’s hands. “Drinking too fast isn't good for you. You’re gonna feel the effects a lot more now. What the fuck do you mean you slept with Jimin?”
Yoongi exhaled. “What else would it fucking mean , Taehyung?”
“You guys got together?”
“Does it look like that?” Yoongi chuckled coldly.
Taehyung stayed silent. Yoongi assumes that he too witnessed what was going on on the sofa.
“I thought you didn'tㅡ”
“Sleep around, I know. But I love him so much, Taehyung.” Yoongi choked. “I love him so much it hurts and I can never say no and can you imagine that? The person you want the most in the whole entire galaxy even sparing you a glance but he wanted me, Taehyung. He wanted me at that moment and I just couldn't say no. And it's bad because he's my best friend and I'm sure as hell the friendship is over now because he hasn't answered any of my texts and now he's sucking face with that chick and I'm so tired, Tae.”
Yoongi saw Taehyung’s clenched fists and knew what he was thinking of.
“Don’t start a fight, Taehyung. His biceps aren't just for show.”
Yoongi finally looked at Taehyung and saw his jaw flexing and his eyes boring holes into the marble table. Yoongi hasn't seen his roommate this angry since that time he came home from a terrible blind date.
“As much as I'd like to punch him in the face for taking advantage of you,” Taehyung began, his voice calm, “you wouldn't like that, and so I won't. But you guys need to fucking talk, so go outside.” And then Taehyung stormed out.
Yoongi, a little dizzy due to the alcohol kicking in a bit more now, finally registers what Taehyung says and steadies himself along the walls and made his way out.
The freshness that a cool night air brings hits Yoongi and he feels more serene, except he also feels like his knees are going to give in at any moment, so he sits down on the staircase of the front porch.
“Yoongi,” he hears the crisp voice a few minutes later and subconsciously, his heart flutters.
“Jimin,” Yoongi chuckles humorlessly. “You dyed your hair.”
“I have,” Jimin sat down beside him.
“Is that why you couldn't answer my texts? Cause you were busy getting your hair done?” Yoongi blurts out. Sober Yoongi would smack himself upside the head for the lack of brain-to-mouth filter but Yoongi wasn't very sober at the moment.
“If I say yes, would you believe me?”
“No, you idiot, you always annoyed the shit out of me while you got your hair dyed cause the wait time always bored you.”
Jimin gave a breathy chuckle.
And then there was silence again, but it was comfortableㅡthere were no thoughts, just feelings.
“...I’m sorry, Yoongi.” Jimin says, barely above a whisper.
“Shut up, you should be.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“I love you, so much. You know that?” Yoongi’s voice cracks. He feels the back of his eyes burn and his vision blurs.
“...I know.”
The wetness was falling past Yoongi’s cheeks now. “I hate you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin sputters, “please don't cry.”
“Yoongi?”
Both of them spun around to find the source of the new voice. Yoongi stumbled to his feet after wiping at his eyes the best he could.
Yoongi prayed to god that his eyes weren't red but judging from how Taehyung’s jaw was clenching again and his eyebrows were furrowed, things were becoming dangerously risky because, dammit, Taehyung knows. So Yoongi simply grabbed weakly onto Taehyung’s jacket and mumbled softly if they could go home now, and Taehyung complied. Taehyung opened the car door for Yoongi.
“No, Yoongi, waitㅡ” Jimin began, but was cut off with a glare from Taehyung and the slamming of a certain car door.
* * * * *
Yoongi didn't know how to feel when he first heard the tinks at his window. Kinda creeped out, actually. It was 5am and the alcohol has pretty much dissipated from his system. Eventually, he discovered that the tinks were being made by sticks being thrown at his window. He had an idea of who was behind this and was going to ignore him but Yoongi really doesn't want to go out and buy a new window cause those sticks are transitioning to pebbles and Yoongi prays Jimin doesn't use an actual rock.
He slid open the window. “Same phone, the fuck you want?”
Jimin was craning his neck to look up at Yoongi, whose bedroom was located on the third floor.
“Let’s talk,” Jimin said. Yoongi grumbled and sat on the edge of his bed instead.
“No,” Yoongi said.
“Why not?”
“No.”
“Come down for just a second?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“Go away.”
Yoongi could almost hear Jimin rolling his eyes. Yoongi almost peeked over the ledge of the windowsill because it got so quiet he thinks that maybe Jimin left, but his voice chimed through the air again.
“Fine, then I’ll just talk and you listen from up there, okay?”
Now Yoongi was the one rolling his eyes.
“I was scared, okay? I don't do the whole relationship thing and you know that. But youㅡyou’re beautiful and I love you so I was scared so I ran away because I’ve never felt this way before.”
Yoongi felt something flutter inside of him and he crossed his arms. He didn't know how to retort at that. He wasn't mad anymore, but he wanted to tease the younger a little bit.
“You made me, the Min Yoongi, cry like a little bitch.”
“You are a little bitch.”
“Are you trying to apologize or not?”
“Sorry, sorry, you know I’m just joking.”
“I hate you,” Yoongi said.
Jimin snorted. “You fucking love me.”
“You wish, asshole.”
Jimin huffed. Yoongi thought it was adorable.
He got up and stretched before making his way downstairs. They were in for a lot of talking and maybe some makeup sex. Either way, Yoongi wasn't complaining.
* * * * *
“Bro.” Jimin leaned in and gave Yoongi a peck on the cheek. They were sitting on the bed, a laptop on Yoongi’s lap as he was typing up an essay. His back was against the headboard.
“What, bro?”
“I love you, bro.”
“Bro.”
“All the homo.”
“Bromo, bro.”
“ Bro. ”
And then they were giggling like little schoolgirls. Jimin’s eyes were winter, but then he was springㅡa season that gives and loves. Jimin gives and loves. Jimin gave and loved.
Yoongi is loved.