Chapter Text
♪
The familiar ringtone sets Jimin’s heart in his throat. For a moment he’s still, fingers hovering above the screen. Biting his lip he pushes the green button, pressing the device against his ear.
“Hi” he breathes into the microphone. His heart is throbbing painfully somewhere around the area of his larynx, pressing painfully at his airways and making it hard to breathe.
For a moment there’s complete silence.
Then...
“Hi”
The voice alone sends chills down Jimin’s spine. How it’s so effortlessly deep, a little raspy but also so melodic and beautiful, like he’s singing when talking.
Jimin takes a deep breath and tries to put on a look of indifference, even though he’s talking on the phone.
“What is it?” he asks even though he knows perfectly well what it is. There’s only one thing the other ever calls for.
He knows this oh so well but he can’t help himself. Can’t stop himself from asking every time and hoping, praying, that one day the answer will be different.
More silence.
Some crackling from the line.
“You know”
Something inside of Jimin dies and something other swells with excitement.
He nods breathlessly.
“I know” he whispers.
“My place”
The tone that fills Jimin’s ear as the other hangs up is deafening, so loud and monotone it makes him want to throw the phone in the ground and smash it into thousands of pieces.
It’s almost as repetitive and bland as his thoughts.
Almost as hard to listen to.
Almost, he thinks to himself as he slips his feet into his shoes and yanks the door open, breath already ragged as he hurries down the street, so ready to yet again make the biggest mistake of his life.
♪
The door is opened after exactly twelve seconds (no jimin didn’t count).
The older’s mint coloured bob of adorably ruffled hair greets him as it swings open, revealing Jimin on te staircase, smiling like an idiot.
“Hi Yoongi” he mumbles, feeling stupidly happy even though he knows he’s about to have his heart broken for the umpteenth time.
Yoongi doesn’t answer, just grabs his wrist and pulls him in, throwing the door closed behind them. It both hurts and thrills Jimin; the tight grip on his wrist, the silence the older treats him with, the knowledge of what’s about to happen.
They have a routine by now; it starts slow with languid, openmouthed kisses, Jimin pressed up against the wall. Yoongi is wet and warm as he completely envelopes Jimins fragile soul with his sweet smell and his way of working his tongue.
It makes Jimin’s stomach drop and his heart clench.
After that, Yoongi starts working on his neck.
It’s pleasurable. It always is.
But it feels so hard today. As Yoongi’s tongue flicks over that special speck of skin it conjures a moan out of Jimin as it always does, but his throat constricts around it. His breaths are shallow and ragged and it feels like Yoongi has his hands around his neck rather than his tongue.
Jimin gasps a little as Yoongi sucks and he tangled his hands in the other’s hair because he needs to get off now. Jimin cant breathe, his throat is convulsing and the walls are closing in.
Forcefully yanking Yoongi’s head up he crashes their lips together and he breathed out a sigh of relief because finally he has air again. Finally he can breathe Yoongi’s taste, revel in the feeling of slotting their mouthes together. Tears are still burning behind his eyelids and his head is spinning. It’s such a sickening feeling, how he can’t even breathe without the other boy.
Jimin is careful to never let the other go for too long as they move to Yoongi’s room. When Jimin falls onto the bed he for a moment feels like he keeps on falling, through the mattress and deeper, deeper into a darkness of confusion. He wants to cry, he wants to scream, he wants to get the monster that claws inside his chest out of his body.
But he still snakes his arms around Yoongi’s neck and he pulls him down, pressing their mouthes together.
He lets Yoongi grind against him, he moans at the friction because he enjoys it on a physical level but inside he wants to cry because since when did this all feel so sickening?
Since when did the delicious feeling of Yoongi’s hot cock in his mouth make him want to die so bad? Since when were the tears on his cheeks from anything but pleasure as Yoongi’s fingers curled inside of him?
And since when did it hurt so fucking much to nod when Yoongi stopped to worriedly ask if he was okay?
Why did he want to scream when Yoongi said they could stop if it was too much?
Scream so hard and long he ripped out his vocal chords and his throat started bleeding.
When Yoongi enters him Jimin feels so full; so filled with love and satisfaction. He can almost forget how much he’s hurting because the delicious stretch fills his senses and the pressure against his prostate makes him lose his mind.
He’s perfectly unaware and aware of Yoongi at the same time; enough to savour the moment, not enough for it to sink in.
It ends too fast for Jimin’s liking.
It takes too little time for Jimin to scream out in pleasure and splatter white onto his stomach, too fast for Yoongi to stiffen behind him and fill him with something warm.
Jimin is still, breathing heavily as Yoongi slips out. Hot trickles down his thigh and he hears the older chuckle behind you.
“Damn Jimin” is everything he says and Jimin has to fight the urge to throw up because how can that be everything he has to say?
Jimin knows, he’s so painfully aware, and yet it still hurts like a thousand roundhouse kicks in his stomach when Yoongi says stuff like that.
He forces a smile at the older and then distantly mumbles he has to clean up and leave. He has made the mistake of staying before and he won’t do it again; it doesn’t matter how fluffy his heart feels and how fuzzy his mind gets when Yoongi wraps his arms around him, the pain when he wakes up alone in a cold bed knocks the air out of him and he can’t take it right now.
He knows Yoongi is staring at him when he walks away, see-through sheets loosely wrapped around his slim frame. He knows the older’s gaze is raking over his slender waist, his slightly too skinny arms and ribs that poke out a little grossly.
He knows that Yoongi is staring at him and he should enjoy it. But it only makes him more sick.
He lets the sheets fall a little lower on his hips and hears a soft gasp behind him as he sensually reveals his naked back and butt, making a show out of his, in Yoongi’s eyes, pretty body.
He hurries his steps out of the room and just manages to step inside the bathroom before throwing up.
♪
“You need to stop this Jimin”
Jimin doesn’t answer. He concentrates fully and wholeheartedly on the salt cellar on the cafeteria table, carefully pouring tiny amounts onto the flat surface to scoop around them into patterns.
Looks like coke Jimin thinks to himself.
“Stop ignoring me, you know I’m right”
Yes, Jimin thinks. Yes I do. That’s why I keep quiet. I don’t have any good arguments.
He keeps his mouth closed.
“He’s hurting you Jimin”
Jimin scoffs, angrily slamming an open fist over the little lines of salt he’s made.
“Why does everyone think that?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “He can do whatever he wants. I don’t give a fuck about him anyways, who ever said I give a shit about him?”
Jimin’s chest is rising and falling rhythmically, his cheeks blushing as he realises that he has raised his voice, causing some people to turn their heads and raise their eyebrows curiously at them.
Taehyung’s eyes narrows and he leans forward a little over the table. Jimin gulps because for once his goofy friend looks...
He can’t describe it.
He’s not angry but he’s not sad either. He’s not disappointed he’s just... not content. And the contrast to his usual obnoxious smile is scary.
“What are you to him Jimin?” he spits. Jimin knows he doesn’t mean it like that, that he just wants Jimin to admit it to himself, but it still hurts when he asks because Jimin doesn’t want to admit it. He wants to keep waltzing around in blissful ignorance.
He closes his eyes, swiping the salt grains over the smooth, glossy table surface.
He has to control his breathing because his eyes are burning like someone has poured acid in them and he’s so not about to cry in the fucking school cafeteria.
“I don’t know” he lies, breathing through his nose.
He hears Taehyung snort.
“Bullshit” the other boy snarls. “You’re just a play date to him Jimin. I know it hurts but you have to realise the truth; you’d rip out your heart and dreams to share with him but he never shares anything with you. He never communicates. He’s using you”
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and tries to control his breathing. Strangely enough he’s not mad at Taehyung for throwing these truths like punches in his face: he knows his friend is right.
What’s even stranger is that he wantsTaehyung to be angry. At Yoongi for playing with his feelings, at Jimin for letting him. He wants Taehyung to be pissed and angry because he knows that Yoongi’s doing the wrong thing.
He just can’t bring himself to be angry because he doesn’t care about Yoongi. He’s trying to tell himself that he doesn’t give a fuck and maybe it will work if he just keeps it up for a little longer.
Jimin breathes through his nose.
In and out.
Out and in.
“It’s not his fault Taehyung”
Taehyung laughs hysterically, causing heads to turn again.
“Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself jimin” he growls, surging forwards to grip Jimin’s hand. “This is all that bastard’s fault and I won’t let you believe anything else-“
”No Taehyung” Jimin interrupts softly and Taehyung shuts up mid-sentence because Jimin is using that voice. That soft fragile voice that he almost never uses, the one that’s wavering because he’s close to tears.
The one he only ever uses when talking about Yoongi.
He tries to calm himself down before speaking.
Fails miserably.
Kicks the chair beside him.
“You have no idea how badly I wish I could hate him like you do” he whimpers, blinking fast and furiously so his eyes won’t overflow with the water that’s welling up in his soul. “I wish he was actually mean, I wish I could hate him, I wish this was his fault...”
He hiccups a little and his throat constricts before he forces himself to continue, determined to make Taehyung understand.
“But it’s not” he whispers, bottom lip quivering. “He always asks me if I’m fine, if I’m okay with everything. And I always say yes.”
Swallow.
Breathe out and in.
In and out.
“I tell him that it’s okay when it’s not. It doesn’t matter that he’s hurting because I’m the one letting him. I’m the one saying yes despite knowing I should say no”
Jimin lets out a shaky breath.
The room suddenly feels too small, the people too many, the clatter too loud, the air too hot and too humid. Something’s squeezing at his throat, choking him in the most horrific way.
Taehyung looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face.
“He knows you love him” he plainly states.
Jimin cant argue.
Doesn’t have the energy, the motivation, the arguments. He knows Taehyung is right.
Taehyung grits his teeth.
“Doesn’t matter that you say it’s alright” he says bitterly. “He knows you’re in love and he’s taking advantage of your feelings.”
And jimin wants to answer; wants to stand up and cry and say that yes, that’s how it is. Wants to fold his arms and flat out deny it, say that Yoongi is unaware of his feelings and that he doesn’t care about Yoongi anyway. Wants to do something.
Anything to throw up this sickening ache in his gut and chest that feels like someone has tightened bands of iron around him. It’s hurting so much he doesn’t know where to go, it spins around his head and he wants to break down because how can something hurt this much when it’s not even physical?
Before he knows what he’s doing he’s standing up.
“I have to go” he mumbles weakly.
He hears Taehyung shout something as he turns around, knocking the chair over, hears how the other starts running after him. But Jimin is faster.
He runs as fast as he fucking can and pretends that it’s the air hitting his face that causes his eyes to spill hot tears.
It’s not Yoongi.
It’s the wind.
♪
“Jimin... you’re okay with this right?”
Jimin turns his head so fast something snaps.
“Yes” he says, a little too fast and a little too sharply. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Yoongi bites his lip. His breathtaking face is so close to Jimin that he younger can feel little puffs of air fan over his face. His strong arms are resting on Jimin’s hips and their naked warm bodies are entangled under light cotton sheets in Yoongi’s bed.
Today is a good day.
A day where he’s naive and stupid enough to believe that Yoongi actually isn’t that special to him. That it’s just lust.
Yoongi cranes his neck a little so that he can look properly at Jimin. He raises a hand and with a feather light touch brushes a strand of hair out of Jimin’s eyes.
Jimin catches himself holding in his breath and quickly lets it out.
“Nothing I just...” Yoongi seems to be struggling to find the words.
Nothing unusual.
The man seems to have a deeply rooted hate for anything that involves communication.
“Taehyung-ssi said that I shouldn’t hurt you and that I was taking advantage of you and-“
“Tae says a lot of things” Jimin angrily interrupts, barely able to believe his friend has gone behind his back and scolded his fuckbuddy without his knowledge. A very Taehyung thing to do but still unbelievable.
Yoongi opens his mouth but Jimin firmly places his hand on top of his soft pink lips.
“Listen” he says, sounding harsher than he means to, but somehow softer than he should. “I know you’re using me to get over your ex and that’s fine. It’s not like I give a fuck about you anyway”
Yoongi frowns and Jimin can almost feel a pout forming behind the palm of his hand. Yoongi looks like he’s about to protest but when Jimin removes his hand he’s still quiet. Looking sceptical, but still quiet.
Like he doesn’t believe Jimin but doesn’t want to argue.
So he settles for nodding.
“Alright” mutter but he doesn’t sound like it’s alright. “If you say so”
His tone screams that he doesn’t believe Jimin. But it doesn’t matter, Jimin thinks as he wraps Yoongi’s arms around himself and snuggles closer, pressing his back flat against Yoongi’s chest, not as long as heknows that he doesn’t care about Yoongi. And, ignoring the little voice at the back of his mind that tells him that he’s full of shit, he slowly drifts off to sleep, Yoongi’s comforting smell filling his senses.
♪
Jimin’s heart is beating harder than it ever has before.
Because those are Yoongi’s sobs. So loud on the other side, piercing the silence, breaking his heart over and over. Standing in the shadow behind a closed door, silent and scared to make known of his presence he listens.
Yoongi sniffles.
“Hoseok” Jimin hears the older croak out and something inside him breaks. Like a physical stab in his gut the word hits him, his entire body convulsing. He slaps his hand over his mouth to prevent the man on the other side of the door from hearing him as his breathing picks up, becoming rushed and shallow. The room is spinning. Everything is crumbling around him, falling to pieces and Jimin just wants to die.
Slowly backing away, tripping and tumbling quietly over his own feet.
I don’t give a fuck about you, he thinks to himself.
I don’t give a fuck about you
I don’t give a fuck about you
Jimin tries to force his breathing to calm down but he can’t, it’s impossible and it’s clawing it’s way out of his lungs and it’s so painful. How can breathing feel like knives sliding up and down throat? How can he be this affected by Yoongi?
Tears are clinging to Jimin’s eyelashes as he bitterly recalls what he’s known all along.
He’s just a play date.
Yoongi’s little play date for when he feels like forgetting all about his ex.
It makes him sick.
♪
Jimin knows this is a bad idea on so many levels.
He’s being used.
He’s not for real.
It’s another one of their stupid play dates and he should say no. He has to say no, he can’t say yes yet again.
And still he finds himself rushing to Yoongi’s side the moment the older calls because his raspy voice makes Jimin’s stomach flutter and causes him to forget all about being taken advantage of.
They follow the normal routine; Jimin comes over to Yoongi who immediately presses him up against a wall, kissing him with the same energy as always. But it’s wrong. It’s all so violently wrong. Jimin feels too small under Yoongi’s hands, feels too hot and too breathless.
Yoongi hasn’t even started working on his flyer when Jimin pushes him away, small hands on his chest.
He quite literally can’t get any oxygen right now, it feels like he’s under water and no matter how fast he breathes no air comes to his lungs. Distantly he can hear Yoongi worriedly asking is he’s alright but he can’t comprehend it.
“I c-can’t” he stutters before swallowing in an attempt to calm his breathing down. “I-I can’t d-do this Yoongi”
There’s a short silence. Jimin’s breathing is slowly steadying, his hands still on Yoongi’s chest.
“Why not?”
Calm, composed, not accusing. Just genuinely curious.
Jimin shakes his head.
“Because it hurts” he wheezes. “It fucking hurts so much”
More silence.
“Then leave”
Jimin gasps and his gaze flips up to Yoongi.
The older is drilling holes into him with those deep, slanted eyes of his and Jimin’s entire being weakens.
“If it hurts then leave” he says calmly, so calmly that Jimin’s soul crumbles because how can Jimin’s presence be so insignificant that he doesn’t care if he’s there? “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I can just have sex with someone else in that case, because you really shouldn’t do anything you’re not-“
Jimin shuts him up by surging forward and desperately pressing his mouth against the older. It doesn’t bring him air like before: if anything it only suffocates him further, stealing everything out of him. And he wants to cry because it feels like he’s dying but Yoongi is here and as long as Yoongi is here Jimin would be happily tortured. He grips tightly at Yoongi’s shirt and pulls away, darkness and jealousy swirling inside his chest.
“Don’t even think about it” he growls.
His mind is reeling; step away! Leave! Get away!
But his body isn’t listening. His fingers are already working on Yoongi’s shirt and he has long since stopped caring about being used because the mere thought of Yoongi with someone else sends him into such a violent fit of nausea Jimin thinks he’ll throw up. He can’t have that.
He doesn’t care Yoongi never tells him how he feels or what he wants. He doesn’t care that he never shares anything or ever communicates. He doesn’t care the other doesn’t want him. He’s happy just breathing the same air as the other.
He’s happy wrapping his lips around the older’s dick and being used as a distraction, as long as those chokingly beautiful moans spilling from Yoongi’s lips belong to Jimin and only Jimin.
Jimin’s heart is being ripped out and stomped on but it’s worth it.
He doesn’t give a fuck about being hurt anyways.
♪
When Jimin wakes up he’s alone.
As always.
By now it hurts so much he can barely even feel it. He lies still in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Taehyung will see the marks Yoongi has painted him with, proud thunder flowers blooming on his neck. He’s going to be so mad at Jimin for letting himself being taken advantage of again.
Jimin rolls over to the side, curling into fetal position. It doesn’t help; the hole in his chest is bleeding and he’s soaking the sheets in tears and blood. The edges are sore and irritated and if Jimin wanted to he could probably stick his hand into the hole and brush his fingers against the heart that’s stubbornly pumping, pressing out more blood into his veins. It hurts too, feeing the liquid flow inside his body. It hurts because it’s a reminder that he’s alive and here.
One day, he thinks to himself. One day I’ll figure out the code to Yoongi’s heart. One day I’ll take control. One day I’ll be he one leaving him and not the other way around.
Jimin swallows.
He knows he should break things. He’s hurting himself.
Taehyung is right.
But how can he willingly give this up? It’s everything he’s ever wished for. No wish is granted without pain. He doesn’t care he’s hurting more than he ever has before. It doesn’t matter that his soul is twisting up and wittering because of the constant pain. For Yoongi he can do it. If he’s just allowed to see him one more time, touch him one more time...
Because to tell the truth he does give a fuck. He gives a fuck about Yoongi every day, every minute, every second of his life. And Jimin couldn’t care less if he’s being used, if he rips out every dream and hope and gets nothing in return. He couldn’t care less about how Yoongi treats him, as long as he doesn’t choose someone else over him. That’s all he wants, and he’d sacrifice everything he has to offer for it; to stay. For Yoongi to let him stay.
Don’t wanna leave this play date with you
♪