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- 2014 -
The lo-fi rap beats vibrate through the speakers, volume turned up just high enough that the neighbours might come and complain if they don’t turn it down before midnight. Though of course they will. Namjoon has always been good at skirting the lines like that, sweet-talking the entire floor into submission with his dimples and his but it’s only my birthday once a year, Mrs Choi!
Jimin doesn’t know how Namjoon and Yoongi ended up in such a decent apartment. It’s small but it’s in a residential neighbourhood that’s clean and even has a decently sized park around the corner. Meanwhile Jimin shares a tiny bedroom with a virtual stranger who he’d moved in with after seeing an advertisement on campus.
Yoongi sidles up next to him, a drink in each hand that give off the distinctive smell of way too much alcohol and synthetic strawberry syrup– a Kim Namjoon signature drink. “Bottoms up?” He suggests, handing Jimin his cocktail.
“Mmh.”
Jimin throws back his drink easily, scrunching his nose as he slams the plastic cup onto the table behind him. Next to him, Yoongi is just finishing his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tilts his head back.
Yoongi comes back up with a sound of disgust, and licks his lips slowly, perfectly pink tongue peeking out from between his perfectly pink lips. “Namjoon is fucking terrible at mixing drinks.”
“I’m gonna get so fucking drunk on this,” Jimin says gleefully. “Remember last year? Oh!” He cuts off, turning to Yoongi with wide eyes. “Hyung,” he breathes. “That means it’s our one year friendship anniversary.”
“Eh?”
Jimin tuts and elbows Yoongi in the ribs. “We met on Namjoonie’s birthday last year, remember?”
He doesn’t know whether Yoongi’s cheeks suddenly flush because of the alcohol or from the recollections of the previous year, when they’d spent a similar night getting drunk in Namjoon and Yoongi’s apartment.
“Ah, Jimin,” Yoongi says, rubbing a hand over his stomach and his nose scrunching up cutely. “You know I don’t really remember a lot from that night.”
“Yeah…” Jimin trails off. “I guess we did get pretty shit-faced.”
Yoongi waits for a beat and then says, “Yep.”
- One year earlier. 2013 -
Hands. That’s what Jimin notices first. The guy's hands, and how they’re at odds with the rest of him. Skinny thighs and a delicate waist and shit, those slightly rounded cheeks, puffy pink lips.
The music pounding through the speakers is deep and sensual, and Jimin is already three cocktails deep. He catches the guy’s eyes from across the room and is rewarded with a tilt of his plastic cup in Jimin’s direction. Warmth curls in Jimin’s stomach, and he’s sure it isn’t the alcohol.
“That’s my roommate, Jiminie,” Namjoon says, nodding in the guy’s direction. “His name’s Min Yoongi. He’s pretty cool. Think you’ll like him. He writes.”
Yoongi, huh?
He wants to draw this guy, this Min Yoongi. Trace the curves of his waist with his pencil. Fill in his softness with shades of deep charcoal, the only sharp lines to him those awfully large hands and the keen expression in his eyes.
Jimin doesn’t draw Min Yoongi that night, though he does climb into his lap after one too many drinks and slurs, “I thought art was supposed to stay inside the museum.”
He finds that Yoongi’s lips are as soft as the rest of him. Finds that his kisses go down as easy as the nth tequila shot someone hands them after they’ve kissed for what feels like hours and hours and hours, sour lime making Jimin’s sensitive lips tingle wherever Yoongi pushed his teeth in, and–
When Jimin wakes up, God knows how much later, he’s in an unfamiliar bed. A tall glass of water stands beside him on the bedside table, coming into view slowly as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.
Yoongi is already awake, staring down at him anxiously, lips pursed. (Lips that still look a little swollen from the excess of kisses the night before).
“Hey,” he says softly. “You’re finally awake. You slept for ages. You feeling good?”
“Mmh. You?”
“Yeah. Last night was wild, huh?”
Jimin squints at Yoongi, the light filtering through the curtains an assault to his eyes. “God, yeah. Nothing untoward happened, right?”
He gestures between them and Yoongi’s eyes grow almost comically wide. “You mean–?”
“Not sure I actually remember anything after my seventh tequila,” Jimin says, trying for a grin. It splits his head in two and he groans into Yoongi’s pillow.
“Ha, yeah,” Yoongi agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me neither. So I don’t think anything untoward happened. Like I don’t think we like… made out or anything. Haha.”
Oh. Yoongi doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t even remember how the slice of lime tasted on Jimin’s tongue. It fills him with a strange disappointment. He’d liked kissing Yoongi enough to, even in the height of his alcohol-induced high, consider doing it again sometime.
“Ah. Great.” Jimin sits up slowly, his head spinning and bile rising up in his throat. “Can I take a shower? Then I’ll be out of your way, pinky promise.”
“You don’t want breakfast?” Yoongi says, one eyebrow raised.
Jimin snorts, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Yoongi’s carpet is littered with books and dirty laundry. “Courteous, dude. But no, thanks.”
“Ah. That’s alright then. Shower’s the third door down the corridor.” Yoongi rubs a hand over his stomach.
God, Jimin thinks. He’s so cutely awkward. At least Jimin knows they kissed and that at some point they must’ve stumbled into bed together. There’s nothing to indicate they touched dicks at any point during the night – his underwear feels dry – so he thinks kissing must have been as far as they’d gone. At least Jimin remembers that. It must be strange for Yoongi to end up with a stranger in his bed…
“Thanks, dude. I’ll see you around I guess?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says. “I guess.”
- 2014 -
“…and so we should go out to celebrate, hyung!” Jimin exclaims. “Like a date.”
Yoongi chokes on the strawberry he’d extracted from his now empty cocktail cup. “A date?”
“Not a real date,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “Duh. Like a date but not an actual date. An official friendship anniversary hangout non-date.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows arch up in that lazy way of his. Voice laced with something between fondness and amusement, he says, “Sounds like you’re fucking pissed already, Jimin. Your alcohol tolerance grows more and more disappointing with time.”
“Happens with age,” Jimin says with a shrug. “At the ripe old age of nineteen, you can’t expect me to hold my liquor as well as I used to. Anyway– are you free tomorrow?”
“For what?” Yoongi frowns.
“For our non-date, stupid.”
Yoongi lets out a long-suffering sigh and pretends to think, tapping his pretty pink bottom lip slowly. “I’ll have to consult my secretary, but I suppose I have a quarter of an hour or so free for you. Where will you take me?”
Jimin taps his index finger to his nose. “Leave that to me, hyung. Leave that to me.”
- 2016 -
“Happy three year anniversary, hyung!” Jimin bounds into the cafe with a bright smile and a bouquet of flowers pressed tight against his chest.
Yoongi looks up from behind the counter, one arm held high at an angle as he pours steamed milk into a to-go cup, and rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”
“I’ve come to take you out on another non-date,” Jimin says. It’s easier for Jimin to say the word date in relation to Yoongi now that he’s definitely, decidedly over Yoongi. His unfortunate crush had lasted for the better part of two years, but he can safely say the sight of Yoongi’s pink mouth, his swept-back blonde hair, and the row of piercings in one ear (covered in blue sticky tape whilst he’s on shift) don’t really do anything for him anymore.
“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi says, letting out a long-suffering sigh. He reaches behind him and slides an iced coffee across the counter towards him. “Here, go sit and wait for me. I’ll be twenty minutes, ‘kay? Behave.”
Next to Yoongi, a doe-eyed boy looks from Yoongi to Jimin and then back to Yoongi again. Jimin thinks this one’s called Jungkook. He’s seen him before, always staring at his hyung, admiring his hyung’s coffee making skills, always saying how cool it is that Yoongi writes stories.
Jimin props himself up on the bar stool next to the counter, where he’s sure he’ll get in the way. He snorts as he watches the guy. Probably has a crush on Yoongi. Idiot. Get in line, he wants to say. Not that he currently has a crush on Yoongi. It’s just the principle of the matter.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, hyung?” Jungkook breathes in awe as he absent-mindedly listens to a customer racing through their order, scribbling it down onto the side of the cup before punching it into the till.
Yoongi looks up and sends Jimin a death glare. “I don’t.”
“But–”
Jungkook passes Yoongi the cup. Yoongi continues, narrowing his eyes at the yellow roses in Jimin’s arms. “I am just fortunate enough to have him as my best friend, it appears.”
Jimin offers Jungkook a grimace. “He has difficulty expressing affection. He does like me, you know?”
Jungkook blinks owlishly at him.
“Oh fuck you,” Yoongi breathes with a shake of his head.
“See?” Jimin tells Jungkook. “This hyung… Unbelievable. I’ve taken him on friendship anniversary non-dates since the year we met, and contrary to what his face is doing right now–” (nose scrunched up cutely in fake-disgust) “–I have evidence that he does enjoy them. Here,” he says, pulling up his phone and leaning over the counter to show Jungkook a picture in his carefully curated Yoonmin BFFs <33 folder. “This is when we went to Lotte world and got on all the roller coaster rides.”
“He threw up,” Yoongi deadpans. “I am never gonna eat cotton candy ever again.”
“And then after that,” Jimin tells Jungkook, who is still scribbling down orders whilst keeping an eye on Jimin’s phone screen, “we went to a 1990s themed disco. Hyung let me tease his hair and put eyeliner on him. He looks sexy, doesn’t he?”
Jungkook opens his mouth and abruptly shuts it again. Good boy, Jimin thinks. Don’t comment on hyungs who aren’t yours.
(Not that Yoongi is, strictly speaking, his.)
“They only played I Want It That Way twelve times,” says Yoongi, voice filled with mock-brightness. “So fun!”
Ignoring him, Jimin swipes further. “This was last year. We took a pottery class together and hyung made me a dick-shaped salt shaker.”
“Aren’t salt shakers inherently dick-shaped?” Yoongi argues.
Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Freud would have something to say about that, no doubt.”
“Well, fuck Freud. You’ve been hanging around Namjoon’s new boyfriend too much.”
“Seokjin is very nice,” Jimin says quickly. “He’s super clever and he obviously worships the earth Namjoon walks on.”
Yoongi scoffs. “He’s so hoity-toity about his PhD, though. Does he ever talk about anything else? Does he have hobbies? Does he have thoughts that don’t include critical analyses on dumb, dick-obsessed historical psychologists?”
“Jungkook,” Jimin says, leaning in conspiratorially, “you’ve got to know one thing about Yoongi hyung, and that is that he is the true dick-obsessed one in this establishment.”
“I– if you say so?”
“Don’t bully him, he’s sensitive,” Yoongi admonishes Jimin, tapping a disk of coffee grinds into the waste bin.
Jimin scoffs. “So am I! And yet you’re bullying me all the time.”
“Maybe you should ask Seokjin to be your new BFF then,” Yoongi says, practically ripping the lid off a carton of oat milk, roughly pouring the contents into a small jug.
“Well,” Jimin huffs, bagging his phone and folding his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe I will.”
“Um–” Jungkook pipes up. “So where are you taking hyung tonight, then?”
Jimin narrows his eyes and leans in. “Jungkook, that’s obviously a secret, which I will sell to you for one of those delicious lemon muffins.” He points towards the glass display case and offers Jungkook a polite smile.
Jungkook’s eyes flit towards Yoongi’s for permission. When he gets it in the form of a tired nod, accompanied by a heavy sigh and an eye-roll, he slides Jimin the treat and shuffles closer. “So?”
Taking care not to let Yoongi overhear, he says, “We’re going to an Italian cooking class and afterwards I’m taking him to the observatory to go stargazing.”
Jungkook draws back, eyes widened. “That’s awfully romantic.”
Jimin and Yoongi snort at the same time.
“Can you imagine? Me and hyung –romantic! As if,” he laughs.
Yoongi lets out a chuckle, too. “Yeah, Jungkook. As if.”
- 2017 -
“Are you sure you’re okay, hyung? You’re as white as a sheet.” Jimin scoots the stool a little closer to the chair where Yoongi is lying down, careful not to let the movement rub his sweater over his freshly tattooed chest.
Yoongi’s face is contorted in a frown, colour drained from his cheeks and his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Yoongi says, voice trembling. “Totally great. Peachy.”
On the other side, the tattoo artist rolls her chair closer and smiles down at Yoongi. “You ready for this?”
Yoongi gulps in a breath of air and Jimin watches the stencil of Yoongi’s sun tattoo rise with his chest.
The artist glances up and meets Jimin’s eyes, grimacing, though not unkindly. The tattoo machine rests easily in her hand, and Jimin supposes they should be lucky she hasn’t turned it on yet, considering the fact that Yoongi’s face grows white at the mere sight of it.
“Hyung– are you scared?” Jimin slides his hand into Yoongi’s, resting their intertwined fingers on Yoongi’s tummy.
“Me? Scared? Ha!” Yoongi breathes. “As if. I just–”
“You just?” Jimin prompts.
“Needles. Don’t particularly like them.”
“Oh,” Jimin sighs, feeling guilt wash over him. He’d come up with this friendship anniversary date and the sketches of a matching sun and moon himself because he’d listened to Yoongi admiring Jungkook’s growing tattoo sleeve more than once, and had – mistakenly, it seems – assumed that Yoongi would like one of his own. “Hyung, I’m– I’m so sorry for not thinking about that. It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. Fuck. Let’s just–”
He looks up at the tattoo artist, but Yoongi cuts in quickly.
“No.” Yoongi abruptly sits upright with his hand still in Jimin’s. “You already have your moon.” Yoongi gestures at Jimin’s chest, where the skin still tingles from his own session earlier. He touches his own chest, right over his heart, and continues, “So it’s only fair I get my sun.”
“It’s not about it being fair–” Jimin tries.
“I want it. I want our friendship tattoo. Just for us.”
At Yoongi’s side, Jimin just about manages to catch the tattoo artist’s confused expression, and he wonders what it is that made her frown like that. He leans in and cups Yoongi’s cheek with his hand. He presses a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead. “If you’re sure, hyung.
Yoongi squeezes his hand and smiles up at him. They’re so close like this. Once upon a time, butterflies would have swarmed Jimin’s belly at such proximity, at being able to count the freckles dotted across Yoongi’s face or the soft lashes fanning across his cheeks, at being just a breath away from Yoongi’s sweet lips.
But that’s ages ago; he doesn’t feel like that anymore and the butterflies have long since flown off. Instead, Jimin just feels warm. His hyung, his sweet hyung, is willing to engrave a reminder of Jimin on his chest forever.
“I’m sure,” Yoongi tells him softly. “But you’ll have to hold my hand.”
“Of course,” Jimin says as a giggle bubbles up. “I’ll let you squeeze it until all my bones are broken, and then you can have the other one.”
“Ready?” The tattoo artist asks, looking between them.
Yoongi meets Jimin’s eyes and lets out a deep sigh as if to brace himself and turns to the tattoo artist. “Ready.”
- 2019 -
“Doesn’t your boyfriend mind that you’re taking me to a sauna resort for the weekend?”
Jimin sits back in his seat and draws his gaze away from the ever changing landscape flashing by outside. “Why would he?”
“I mean, it’s kind of–”
“Taehyung isn’t the jealous kind, hyung,” Jimin says. “He actually encouraged me to go. He knows I’ve been stressed at work and he told me to get pampered. Massages, facials. Wanna get in one of those mud baths.”
Yoongi just hmms and ahs, and after a moment, Jimin adds, “Why, do you think your girlfriend will mind?”
“Pffsh, of course she doesn’t mind. She knows it’s nothing like that. It’s just that… when I told Jungkook about it, he said that sounded like something a couple would do. And Jihyo–”
“Hyung,” Jimin sighs, placing a hand on Yoongi’s arm. “You should know by now that even when we’re both married to other people, Jungkook will still somehow think it’s all an act and that we are actually dating together. He’s crazy.”
Yoongi purses his lips and nods. “Guess you’re right,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. He recently dyed it a warm shade of brown, more suited to his office job (which Yoongi still insists is only a side-hustle until his writing career takes off, though Jimin knows better. It’s been a while since Yoongi sent him any of his short stories. He blames Jihyo and her daddy’s hoity-toity lawyer’s office entirely. Fucking Jihyo.).
Jimin puts his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and cuddles into his side. “Let’s just relax this weekend, okay hyung? We’re big shot adults now with jobs, so we deserve it.”
Yoongi presses a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re right. Sorry for being all stressy, I guess. It’s just— work, I think?”
“That’s okay, hyung. That’s why I’m here.”
“I know.”
The bus speeds through increasingly unfamiliar surroundings. Jimin watches the fields grow into undulating hills until he can feel his eyes drooping, and he nods off with his head still on Yoongi’s shoulder.
- 2021 -
Their eighth friendship anniversary non-date coincides with Namjoon and Seokjin’s engagement party, and Jimin spends the weeks leading up to it grumbling and complaining.
“I don’t understand why they thought it was okay to steal our day,” Jimin sulks.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Yoongi says, fingers curling around his mug. “We’ll still get to spend the evening together?”
“Yeah,” Jimin says huffily. He glances up at the counter. It’s years later, and the position of store manager suits Jungkook better than Jimin had ever thought it would. He expertly guides one of the new recruits as she presses down the coffee grinder and hooks the piston into the machine. “And Namjoon will be there and Seokjin and Taehyung and Jungkook and all of their stupid colleagues and friends and family.”
“Is Taehyung being there gonna be a problem for you? D’you want me to talk to Joon about it?” Yoongi scoots forward in his seat a little, extending his hand, a silent offering.
Jimin softens momentarily as he takes in his hyung’s worried expression and slides his hand into Yoongi’s. “Of course that’s not a problem. I love him, even if he’s not my boyfriend any longer. I broke up with him, remember? It’s just that…”
Yoongi looks at him, eyes filled with patience and something so soft as he waits for Jimin to formulate an answer. Jimin likes how easily Yoongi can read him. How well he knows him. Knows that sometimes it takes Jimin a while to put his thoughts into words.
“Our anniversary feels like it’s sacred. It should just be the two of us, hyung. Don’t you agree? I don’t want anyone to come between us ever again.”
(When Jimin had found out Jihyo had been telling Yoongi he should just focus on working for a proper company rather than holding out hopes of ever getting his stories published? Yeah. That had been one hell of a bitchfight.)
Yoongi slides his hand across the table and laces their fingers together. “How about I take you out in the afternoon. Before the party.”
Jimin’s heart skips a beat. “You are willing to organise our friendship anniversary non-date?”
“As much as it pains me to admit it– yeah, I am. If that’s what’s gonna make you smile again,” Yoongi adds, tapping Jimin’s cheek. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”
Jimin immediately feels lighter. “You’d best start planning something crazy amazing, hyung. It’s gonna be hard to live up to my track record.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes and draws back his hand. “Yeah, yeah.” He snorts and lifts his cup of coffee. “I’ll make sure it’s Park Jimin-worthy.”
A few weeks later, Yoongi sits in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car. The upside to being the only one now with a proper adult job, Jimin supposes, is getting a company car. He’s not sure why a game graphics designer should need a car, seeing as he spends eight hours a day hunched over his digital drawing pad, but it’s electric, and it gets them to wherever Yoongi is planning to take him.
Yoongi instructs him to park and then drags him across the street and down an alleyway, until he says, “Tada!”
Jimin looks at the nondescript building in front of him. Grey concrete, two windows on either side of a door that was once painted a bright blue that has now faded and chipped away. Overhead, there is a sign that reads, Meow or Never – Animal Shelter.
At his side, Yoongi wrings his hands. “Since you’ve been saying you’ve been feeling lonely now that you’re living by yourself, I thought… You’ve always wanted a cat, haven’t you?”
Jimin squeals, surging forward and wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist. In the crook of Yoongi’s neck, he whispers, “This is the perfect non-date, hyung.”
“Let’s go in? I arranged for someone to show us around,” Yoongi says, slowly extricating himself from Jimin’s hold and slipping his hand into Jimin’s.
“I can’t wait,” Jimin breathes, delighted.
An employee waits for them by the reception desk and takes them through to the cats. “How lovely that you are thinking about adopting,” she says as she lets them into the pen, making sure to lock the door behind herself. She turns to face them and Jimin watches as her eyes roam across Yoongi’s entire body, before flitting to Jimin. “Will you be adopting together?”
“We–”
Jimin hooks an arm through Yoongi’s and rests his other hand over Yoongi’s heart. He smiles his politest smile. “Yes, together. Right, sweetheart?” He looks to the side and squeezes Yoongi’s arm extra hard.
Yoongi just blinks. “Yeah. Together.” He looks at Jimin, a touch amused, and shakes his head lightly. He clears his throat and, sounding slightly pained, adds, “Babe.”
“Mmh. Well– just look around, play a little. Some of them are really shy, and others are little attention seekers. Most people tend to just know when a cat is right for them.”
“They’re all healthy?” Yoongi asks. There’s a hint of authoritativeness in his voice that confuses Jimin ever so slightly because for some reason it’s… it’s sexy?
“Naturally,” the woman replies, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. “Some are a little on the older side, though, and with that comes increased risk of diseases.”
“That’s a given, I think,” Jimin says softly, crouching down to let a tiny brown kitten smell his hand. He ignores the way his stomach feels funny.
For the next twenty minutes or so, Jimin goes around the pen petting all the cats, trying not to think about Yoongi’s voice sounding sexy.
Yoongi, on the other hand, sits down on the floor early on, and when Jimin manages to drag his gaze away from the lovely cats and look at Yoongi, there is a calico cat curled up elegantly in his lap. When she notices Jimin staring, she lifts up her head and blinks as if to say, He’s mine.
Yoongi grins up at him and strokes the cat’s fur. “I think I found myself a friend?”
Jimin crouches by his side and holds his hand out for her to sniff, but draws it back when she re-opens her eyes and shoots daggers in Jimin’s direction.
“She’s a little protective of you, hyung,”
Yoongi raises one eyebrow. “Reminds me of someone I know.” With a tiny nod in the employee’s direction, he says, “What was that back there?”
Heat rises in Jimin’s cheek and he attempts to hide it by looking down at the cat in Yoongi’s lap. A shrug. “She was staring at you.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond to that, but Jimin can feel his knowing eyes on him. Yoongi tends to be like that, he thinks. He sees right through Jimin, yet sees nothing at all. Nothing that means anything. It’s always been like that.
He extends his hand towards the cat on Yoongi’s lap. She blinks at him lazily. Try me. “I’m not going to steal him from you, you crazy girl,” he says, mirroring her and narrowing his eyes in her direction. Her fur is soft when his fingers touch the top of her head. For a second the cat does nothing, gazing at him in distrust, but then she stretches her neck and butts her head against his hand.
When Jimin looks up triumphantly, he finds Yoongi is already looking at him. Who knows how long his attention may have been on Jimin rather than the cat? His eyes are fond, soft. Jimin has long since learned that the sharp lines of his eyes don’t mean there is no softness in them.
“Do you like her?”
“Do you? You’re the one who wants a cat,” Yoongi says, a touch of fond desperation in his voice.
“Yeah, but it’s important to me that you two get along.”
“I’d say that whether you get along with her is more important.” Yoongi nods at the cat who is still looking at Jimin with some wariness.
Jimin snorts. “She adores you, I adore you. I figure the two of us will be a fine match.”
Yoongi swallows audibly and ducks his head, large hand splayed across the cat’s back. “Fine, just don’t come complaining when she likes me better than she likes you.”
“I wouldn’t dare, hyung,” Jimin laughs lightly. “I wouldn’t want to give you the pleasure of being right, anyway.”
Yoongi looks up and rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. And Jimin– Jimin wants to kiss him. He wants to lean in and trace the few freckles dotted across Yoongi’s cheeks with the tip of his finger and close the distance between their lips and–
He draws back, his heart stuttering.
He is over this. Right?
Maybe he used to be in love with Yoongi years ago, but that’s long past. It’s just a remnant of what used to be there, right? Like muscle memory helps you stay upright on a bicycle, this has got to be nothing more than a mental remnant of his crush on his hyung. A trick of his mind, a memory, an automatism.
“You good, Jiminie?”
Not really, he wants to say. He doesn’t dare look up, because what if he looks at Yoongi and wants to kiss him again?
He clears his throat. “I think one visit might be a little too soon to decide whether she’s my equal. Maybe I’ll come back later this week and play with her some more, and then make my decision?”
“That’s sensible,” Yoongi nods. His voice sounds weird and Jimin hates it.
“Yeah. Sensible.”
Sensible is not falling for his best friend again. Sensible is backing off. Sensible is knowing that it wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t work. Sensible is pretending he doesn’t want to kiss Yoongi.
“Should we go get dinner? I wouldn’t want to be late to the hyungs’ party.” (Another sensible decision.)
Yoongi strokes the cat slowly. She purrs happily and buries her face in his tummy. “Alright.”
The party is already in full swing when Jimin and Yoongi arrive after dinner. After making the rounds and suffering through and endless barrage of How is your work; Are you still living in that cute apartment; and Are you still seeing that girl… Jihyo, right? they finally get to the bar and down a couple of shots of soju, Jimin insisting on pouring them in quick succession until he’s shaking the last drops in Yoongi’s glass with a pout on his face.
Yoongi just looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed.
The evening progresses in a similar vein. They’ve always been good at drinking together and it’s God knows how many drinks later that they end up gravitating towards each other on the dancefloor.
It rests heavily in Jimin’s stomach, this realisation that he wants to kiss Yoongi, but it doesn’t prevent him from looping his arms around Yoongi’s neck and pulling him close. Doesn’t prevent an electric current from zapping through his body when Yoongi’s hands fall to his hips.
They sway together on the dancefloor and maybe it’s the non-descript romantic song being played by a disinterested DJ who must have looked up a Best Engagement Party Songs playlist. Maybe it’s the alcohol and the way Yoongi’s fingers dig into the sliver of exposed skin between his jeans and his top. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he never fell out of love with Yoongi in the first place, because he leans in and without hesitation he presses his lips to Yoongi’s.
For a moment it is bliss. There are no fireworks, no butterflies. Just the warmth of Yoongi’s mouth and his embrace, flowers unfurling in his stomach.
Yoongi kisses back so softly, lips trembling against Jimin’s. Until he doesn’t. He pulls away, his hands sliding off Jimin’s hips, leaving his skin cold and empty. “Jimin, I–”
Jimin inches forward, following Yoongi's mouth instinctively. “Hyung.”
But Yoongi holds him at arm’s length. “Jiminie. We’re drunk, and we’re lonely. I don’t want it to be like this.”
It feels as though someone tied stones to his ankles and pushed him into the ocean, harsh waves crashing over him. Yoongi doesn’t want him. Yoongi doesn’t want him like Jimin has wanted him from the night they met.
“I don’t want to ruin things,” Yoongi pleads. “What we have, you and I– I don’t want to lose that.”
Jimin nods slowly. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Jimin–” Yoongi sighs, and there’s desperation written in the way his brows are drawn together, in the shimmer of his eyes. He rests a hand over his heart, where his tattoo is. “Please.”
“I’m really sorry, hyung. I’ll go see if Jungkook wants to dance for a bit, okay?” He waits for all of two heartbeats, maybe in the hopes of Yoongi saying that it was a mistake and that he does want him, and then turns on his heel.
It’s easy, the next morning, to pretend that he drank so much that he remembers nothing from the night before.
It’s easy to pretend he doesn’t love Yoongi.
And so they continue as before.
- 2022 -
“Why don’t we have best friend anniversary dates?” Namjoon asks, lips pursed around the paper straw of his cocktail.
“Because we’re not best friends,” Jimin deadpans. “Next question.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says, leaning back on the bar stool. “Why are you being weird with Yoongi hyung?”
Jimin scoffs. “I’m not being weird with Yoongi hyung.”
Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “Let me think. You’re normally telling me weeks in advance about the dates you have planned for him,” (–“they’re not dates, hyung.”–) “with your stargazing and pottery classes and the matching tattoos. And then this year you’re just… taking him to the cinema? And you’re only telling me about it the day before?”
Jimin folds his arms in front of his chest. “I’m just busy with work and so is Yoongi hyung. You know they’ve asked him to go on a book promotion tour across the country. He couldn’t possibly spare the time.”
A frown laces Namjoon’s brow, and Jimin knows his hyung has seen right through his poor excuse.
“You do know that you’re much more important to hyung than his career is, right?”
“Ppfsh.”
“Or is this about Hoseok?”
“Why would it be about Hoseok?”
Namjoon fiddles with the ring on his finger. “I mean, things seemed to be going so well and then you suddenly broke up with him and refused to talk about it. And so does Hoseok.”
“It’s not about Hoseok,” Jimin says quietly.
(Hoseok wasn’t Yoongi and Jimin never stopped wishing that he was.)
Namjoon leans in a little closer, places a hand on Jimin’s arm. His wedding ring shines in the fluorescent lights overhead. “Are you still in love with him?”
Jimin’s breath suddenly comes faster than it should. Namjoon knew? Namjoon knew and never said anything? What if he talked to Yoongi about it? Oh God, it would be even worse if Yoongi knew Jimin had always been in love with him, if he’d simply never said anything. It would be just like Yoongi to ignore it, to treat Jimin no differently.
So he snaps, “I’m not still in love with Yoongi.”
Namjoon blinks in confusion. “In love with…? I’m not talking about Yoongi hyung? I’m talking about Hoseok.” Namjoon’s eyes narrow as the realisation of Jimin’s words dawns on him. “Jimin… are you? Yoongi hyung…?”
Jimin purses his lips and stares down at his cocktail.
“Oh, Jimin,” Namjoon breathes. His voice is so gentle that Jimin feels his eyes starting to burn. “Really?”
Jimin supposes his silence is answer enough.
“Does he know?” Namjoon shuffles a little closer, as though he’s contemplating giving Jimin a hug. The gesture means as much as any hug ever would. He knows Namjoon isn’t a hugger.
Jimin shrugs. “I don’t think so. But I know he doesn’t feel the same.”
Namjoon narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? Because–” he snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head a little. “Jimin… do you remember the night you two met? At my birthday party?”
Oh, this Jimin can do. He practised this one for years. He pastes on a lazy grin and says, “Yeah, though I don’t remember a lot of the night. Drank way too much.” He laughs. “I remember meeting Yoongi, drinking a lot, dancing a little and then I crashed in Yoongi’s bed for the night.”
Namjoon looks at him intently. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but nods slowly. “Okay. Hmm.”
“Why?”
“Ah, it’s nothing. Forget it. But you should tell him. That you like him, I mean.”
Jimin snorts. “I wouldn’t want to put him in that position. He’d be kind about it, I’m sure, but I don’t think things could be the same after I confess.”
Namjoon sighs deeply, then slurps down the last of his cocktail. “Okay, Jimin. But think about it. Please.”
- 2023 -
He doesn’t mean to avoid Yoongi.
He’s twenty-seven years old and spends his days designing games, drawing and drawing until his hands feel ready to fall off. He does yoga most evenings, or goes running with Namjoon, to counterbalance all those hours spent hunched over his drawing pad.
On weekends he hangs out with friends– work friends more often than his old group, especially now that Namjoon and Seokjin are getting ready for the arrival of their daughter. He reads books with Sugar curled up in his lap (and if it’s Yoongi’s debut novel Dawn that he rereads time and again, nobody needs to know.) and chats to men on dating apps, sleeps with them and then leaves again.
Avoiding Yoongi isn’t intentional, but it’s easier than being near him.
As summer draws to an end, coating Seoul in heavy bouts of rain and the smell of leaves starting to decay, Jimin feels apprehensive about their impending anniversary.
It’s not as if they haven’t kept in touch. They text and they see each other often enough. They even danced at Namjoon and Seokjin’s wedding. But it isn’t as it was before and Jimin knows that it’s his fault, knows that it confuses Yoongi. Ever since Jimin kissed him at that engagement party, things have been off. Jimin still pretends it never even happened, but still.
Loving Yoongi is something he’s come to terms with over the past two years, ever since Namjoon and Seokjin got engaged. He knows Yoongi doesn’t feel the same, but that doesn’t mean some part of him won’t always be in love with Yoongi. Loving Yoongi is just as much a part of him as breathing is.
It comes as a surprise when Yoongi texts him first.
My hyung:
Don’t bother planning something this year.
Jimin tries not to let his heart shatter as he looks at the screen. The dots in the bottom right corner seem to laugh at him as he waits for Yoongi to explain.
My hyung:
I have something planned for us <3
Me:
lmao you had me scared there for a moment haha
thought you didn’t want to celebrate our anniversary anymore
My hyung:
Of course I want to celebrate our anniversary, Jiminie. You’re my best friend.
Jimin swallows. Yeah. Best friend.
Me:
I am?
My hyung:
Is the sun I got tattooed on my chest for you not enough proof for you :P
Of course you are. You always will be, no matter what.
Me:
okay, hyung
what are you planning for us?
My hyung:
Secret!
A minute later, Jimin’s phone pings again.
My hyung:
I’ve missed you.
Me:
I miss you too
are we okay?
My hyung:
I hope so.
I can’t wait to see you.
Just the two of us.
Me:
just the two of us <3
My hyung:
<3
When Yoongi pulls up to Jimin’s apartment, they easily fall into a hug, Yoongi clutching Jimin’s leather jacket tightly and burying his face in his neck.
Jimin lets himself enjoy it. Indulge in the comforting smell of Yoongi. He looks different. Older. His coat is a fancy one, and his clothes are ironed. His honey blonde hair makes him look even softer than usual.
He pulls back and grabs Yoongi’s biceps, looks at him appraisingly. “Well, look at you. You look every inch the bestselling writer,” he says with a smile.
Yoongi’s face flushes a delicate pink. He ducks his head but Jimin can see the way he grins, pleased at the compliment.
“Really, you look handsome.”
“You too,” Yoongi says, voice conspicuously loud, as though he had to hype himself up to get it out. He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair out of Jimin’s eyes. “Your hair… silver… It looks pretty on you. You look pretty.”
Jimin’s toes curl in his worn Converse and he feels the heat rise in his cheeks.
Yoongi’s car is a fancy one, and Jimin lightly comments on how he’s moving up in the world, for which he is rewarded with a chuckle.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
Yoongi glances at him and smiles nervously, looking away from the road for a little too long. “You’ll see. I really hope you’ll like it.”
He parks the car in a slightly dodgy looking part of town, the road dotted with smaller factories and shops. He hurries around the car to let Jimin out, extending his hand to do so.
Jimin clutches Yoongi’s hand and stares up at the building in front of them. “Where are we?”
“This is the printer’s office,” Yoongi announces proudly, puffing out his chest. “And this is where they are currently printing the very first edition of my second novel. Come on,” he says, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “They’re expecting us.”
Yoongi offers a cheerful wave to a young guy by the reception and pulls a confused Jimin along into the maze of the printing company, hands still clasped tightly together. He can hear the monotonous whirring of the printing press in action.
Yoongi pulls open a heavy door and the noise grows louder. In front of them, heavy machines are spitting out the pages of Yoongi’s novel in record speed. He eagerly shows Jimin around the different machines. This one prints the pages, this one makes them into the correct shape and binds them, this one attaches the cover.
When they end up at the final machine, Jimin finds a stack of books already waiting for them. Sunlight, the cover reads in gold-embossed letters. A thrill makes its way into Jimin’s heart when he sees Yoongi’s name at the bottom.
“Did you imagine you would ever make it to this?”
Yoongi sticks his hands in the pockets of his coat and shrugs. “Never believed I could.”
Jimin smiles as he picks up the book. “I did. What’s this one about? You never sent me any excerpts.”
“No… Well…” Yoongi trails off, and Jimin is sure he too is thinking about the strained text messages, few and far in between. He absent-mindedly touches his chest, where the sun tattoo rests over his heart. “Why don’t you read the synopsis?
Jimin turns the book in his hand. To University student Haneul, it feels like the universe is finally slipping into place when she kisses her roommate’s best friend Hyejin at a party. But everything shifts on its axis once more when Hyejin doesn’t appear to remember their night together.
His heart sinks into his stomach. “You remembered?”
Yoongi blinks at him. “You remembered?”
Jimin’s lips part in surprise. “Hyung, please don’t tell me this is about us.”
Yoongi’s face falls, eyes clouding over. He brushes his hand over his chest again. “I–”
“Hyung, please,” Jimin pleads, taking a step closer and folding his fingers around Yoongi’s wrists. “Is this about us? Is this about when we kissed at Namjoon’s birthday? When we first met?”
Yoongi nods slowly.
“Oh my God,” Jimin breathes. “But that’s ten years ago. Why didn’t you say you remembered?”
“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi shoots back.
Jimin steps into Yoongi’s personal space. “When I woke up I asked you whether anything had happened, and then you said we hadn’t even made out.”
“But I thought you were asking whether we had sex. We made out, but we didn’t have sex,” Yoongi says, cheeks growing red. “I would definitely have remembered if we’d had sex. And then you didn’t even remember we kissed, and–”
“Ten years, hyung,” Jimin whines. “Do you even know how often I’ve wanted to kiss you since then? I did, once, but then you said you didn’t want it and– It was easier to pretend I’d forgotten.”
Yoongi grabs the front of his coat. “I didn’t want it while we were both drunk,” he says, his expression desperate. “Fuck– I wanted to kiss you all the time. ‘s why Jihyo broke up with me. Too in love with you.” He shakes his head and lets out a watery laugh.
“I said your name in bed with Hoseok once,” Jimin blurts out.
Yoongi snorts and leans forward, resting his head against Jimin’s forehead. “I can never face him again.”
“Neither can I,” Jimin giggles.
Just before Yoongi closes the space between them, he whispers, “Ten years.”
Jimin nods, feeling Yoongi’s breath tickle across his lips. “Ten years.”
Kissing Yoongi drunk on tequila and the lime on Yoongi’s lips feels like a fever dream in comparison to kissing Yoongi sober. Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist, pressing the copy of Sunlight to Yoongi’s back. He tilts his head and lets their lips slide together.
Despite its familiarity, nothing Jimin has ever done before feels even remotely like kissing Yoongi. Yoongi’s lips fit easily over his bottom lip, gently sucking. A constant push and pull, warm and soft and theirs.
When Jimin pulls back ever so slightly, Yoongi lets out a little whine.
“Will you take me home with you tonight?” he asks, not waiting for Yoongi’s reply to lean in again. He can’t get enough of Yoongi’s soft, willing mouth.
“But…” Yoongi stammers in between kisses. “I have a whole romantic night planned. Restaurant, cinema, everything.”
Jimin cups his face and plants a soft kiss on his lips. “I want to skip the dates, hyung.” He steps a little closer, their chests touching. “Don’t you think we’ve been on plenty already?”
Yoongi lets out a heavy breath and covers Jimin’s hand with his own. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The ride to Yoongi’s apartment is, thankfully, a short one, though it is riddled with tension, Jimin tapping his foot until Yoongi drops his hand on Jimin’s thigh. Jimin grabs it and drags it higher, so Yoongi can feel how just the anticipation alone is making his jeans sit tight.
Once inside the apartment, hands start roaming, searching for bare skin and discarding the layers of fine clothes in the process. Blindly, not willing to let their lips part for longer than strictly necessary, they stumble their way to the bedroom and Jimin’s back hits the mattress with a thud.
“Off, off, off,” Jimin chants when Yoongi climbs into his lap and he starts tugging at Yoongi’s boxer shorts. “I need this off.”
Yoongi chuckles against his mouth. “Impatient little brat.”
“Hyung, it’s been–”
“–ten years. I know.”
“So hurry, then!”
Yoongi rolls off him, lying down on his back on the other side of the bed, where Jimin immediately follows, pressing kisses to Yoongi’s chest, reverent fingers trailing over the little sun engraved over his heart. Funny, he thinks now, how he’d never realised Yoongi loved him back when it had been etched in his skin all this time.
When Yoongi shimmies out of his underwear, Jimin glances down and– his world stops.
“Oh my God,” he breathes. “Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” He lets out a desperate whine and buries his face in Yoongi’s chest. “That’s so unfair.”
He slowly lifts his head and hazards a peek downwards again to where Yoongi’s cock rests on his stomach, half-hard. The hair around it is neatly trimmed (and Jimin will tease him about expecting to get laid later), but what catches Jimin’s eyes is what lies below it. Because underneath Yoongi’s perfect cock, two mouth-wateringly big balls rest between his thighs.
“Please, can I?”
Yoongi gestures with his hand, his cheeks furiously red, as if to say, whatever you want.
Jimin scoots down the bed, fingers trailing down Yoongi’s cock. It twitches underneath his ministrations, growing a little harder. Then, his hand goes lower and lower until he cups Yoongi’s balls, testing the weight in his hand.
“Shit, hyung. If I’d known–”
“Shouldn’t have pretended you didn’t remember us kissing, then,” Yoongi says, looking down at Jimin and raising both eyebrows at him.
Jimin glares back at him and lightly bites Yoongi’s thigh. “Hate you.”
One hand fondling Yoongi’s balls, he wraps his other hand around Yoongi’s length, pumping slowly until Yoongi is fully hard and letting out the prettiest breathy moans Jimin has ever heard. Jimin stares at the drip of precum on the head of Yoongi’s cock for a mere second before leaning in and wrapping his lips around it.
Yoongi lets out a guttural moan, his hand finding its way into Jimin’s hair. All around them is silence, save for the slick sound of Jimin’s mouth sliding up and down Yoongi’s cock, and Yoongi’s heavy breathing in response to it.
It’s just them, and Jimin loves it. He loves him.
He reaches a hand behind him and teases at his rim, pushing the tip of his index finger in and giving himself time to get used to the stretch before pushing it in as far as it’ll go in this position.
Yoongi retrieves a bottle of lube from his bedside table, along with a strip of condoms. “You want me, darling?”
Jimin presses a final kiss to Yoongi’s dick. He slides his tongue along Yoongi's length and teases it across his balls briefly before climbing up the bed again. He makes a mental note to try and get his balls into his mouth next time. “So bad, Yoongi hyung. So, so bad.”
Uncapping the bottle, Yoongi generously spreads lube on his fingers and slides one of them in alongside Jimin’s. Together, they stretch Jimin’s rim until it’s just enough. Jimin doesn’t want to waste another second, and he doesn’t care about the stretch and burn zinging through him when he sinks down onto Yoongi’s length.
When his hips meet Yoongi’s, he and Yoongi let out twin sighs of relief. Despite his earlier impatience, he’s content to sit like this for a moment, Yoongi filling him up. Yoongi being where he belongs. Connected to the core.
He leans forward and presses his lips against Yoongi’s.
“Hyung?”
“Jimin?”
“Have I told you I love you yet?”
Yoongi smiles against his mouth, one hand sliding slowly down his back. “I don’t think you have, no.”
“Well,” Jimin says. “I love you, Yoongi. I have for some time.”
“Have you now?”
Jimin pinches Yoongi’s nipple. “Asshole. Yes. I love you.”
Yoongi’s hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from Jimin’s face. The reverent way in which he looks up at Jimin sends shivers down his spine: as if Jimin is the most precious thing on earth, as if he can’t quite believe that they’re this close.
“Aren’t you going to say it back?” Jimin teases, poking Yoongi’s nipples again. He shimmies his hips, feeling Yoongi’s cock shift inside of him and his balls press tightly against his ass.
He doesn’t need Yoongi to say it; he knows Yoongi loves him. In hindsight, it’s really so obvious as to make him wonder how he missed all the signs.
But still, it feels good when Yoongi smiles so softly and kisses a whispered I love you onto his lips. He wraps one arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him closer until they’re chest to chest. His other hand falls to Jimin’s ass, pressing insistently until Jimin rolls his hips.
They both moan and Jimin knows that’s going to be his favourite sound for the rest of his life. He swirls his hips so slowly for a few moments, smiling into Yoongi’s neck when he lets out a frustrated half-moan, half-groan, before finally lifting his hips and slamming back down.
He plants his hands on Yoongi’s chest for leverage, sitting up a little straighter to better fuck himself on Yoongi’s dick. With Yoongi’s hands guiding his hips, he bounces and bounces. Each time he descends on Yoongi’s cock, the stretch burns a little less, the slide growing easier. It feels delicious to have Yoongi inside of him like this, hot and slick and thick, especially when he tilts his hips just right and the head of Yoongi’s cock brushes his prostate as he bounces up and down.
“God–” Yoongi groans, fingers digging into Jimin’s thighs. “You don’t even want to know how often I dreamed about this happening.”
“Tell me. Tell me what happened in your dreams.” Jimin brushes his thumb over Yoongi’s nipple and feels his hips buck up underneath his own. He lets out a little cry as the movement makes Yoongi drive his cock right into his prostate. “Yoongi. Fuck.”
“Dreamed about filling you up.” Yoongi’s hand sneaks around Jimin’s back and he brushes a finger over Jimin’s stretched hole. “Want to lick you clean after.”
Jimin whines, cock twitching desperately. “You can’t just say that.”
“You literally asked, babe.” Yoongi sits up abruptly, surging forward to kiss him deeply. It’s hot and wet, their tongues curling around each other.
With his heart hammering in his chest, Jimin says, “You know, you could do that right now, if you wanted to.” He reaches between them and rubs a finger along the edge of the condom. “I trust you.”
Yoongi blinks at him for a moment, spit-slicked lips parted ever so slightly. “Jiminie… Are you sure?”
Jimin cocks his head, one eyebrow raised. “About me wanting you to eat me out? I’m very sure.”
Yoongi swallows. “Fuck, okay. Hands and knees, baby?”
The emptiness he feels when he pulls off Yoongi’s dick nearly makes him sob, but thankfully, it doesn’t last too long. He settles on his hands and knees near the headboard and feels Yoongi shuffle around the bed behind him, hears him uncap the lube bottle and slick his cock up, the condom thrown haphazardly in the trash can beside his bad.
Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of his neck, his hands resting lightly on his waist. “Ready?” He asks before driving his bare cock home.
“Oh God,” Jimin moans when Yoongi fills him up. The feeling is so much more intense in this position, he’s in so deep. “I fucking love you.”
Yoongi thrusts into him. And again. He starts driving his cock into him so hard that Jimin unconsciously reaches for the top of Yoongi’s headboard, wrapping his fingers around the spikes (perfect for handcuffing, he half-consciously observes) to help himself stay upright.
Yoongi is merciless. There is a smooth sensuality to his thrusts, the way he angles his cock just so, and he does it with such force that Jimin can’t call it anything but what it really is: a pounding. He pounds into Jimin, panting and letting out low moans. The sound of Yoongi’s balls slapping against the back of Jimin’s thighs is more obscene than any porn Jimin has ever watched.
Jimin had never in his plentiful fantasies imagined Yoongi to be as loud as he is. Instead of quiet grunts, it is a steady stream of Fuck, look at you and Taking me so fucking well as he digs his fingers into Jimin’s plush ass, dragging Jimin back onto his cock.
“Baby…” Yoongi breathes, wrapping one arm around Jimin’s front and pulling him upright, holding him tight against his chest. His other hand snakes down Jimin’s stomach until his long fingers wrap around Jimin’s aching cock. “I love you.”
It’s the last straw. His sweet voice, the kiss to his shoulder, and the single touch of his neglected cock, and Jimin is sent over the edge. His vision goes white as he cries out.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Yoongi whispers, hand pumping Jimin’s cock furiously as he twitches, teetering on his orgasm. “Let go, sweet.”
Jimin slumps against Yoongi’s front as he comes all over Yoongi’s hand and his own stomach. His orgasm seems endless, waves of pleasure rolling over him as Yoongi keeps driving his cock into him.
Yoongi’s hand is slick with come as it trails back up Jimin’s chest. It circles around a nipple for a second before Yoongi brings it up higher and pushes two wet fingers into Jimin’s mouth.
His own come is salty on his tongue. He’s tasted it plenty of times, but none of those times had been so deeply erotic. He suckles Yoongi’s fingers clean and when there’s no come on them left, Yoongi trails back down and gathers up some more from Jimin’s stomach and pops it into Jimin’s mouth again.
And… Jimin glances down, confused. His dick is hard. Again? Still? It’s proudly erect, bouncing when Yoongi runs his hand along it to clean off the come.
Yoongi keeps fucking him through it, his thrusts growing increasingly uncoordinated and desperate. He pushes Jimin onto his hands and knees again and spends a few more moments driving his cock into Jimin’s prostate before he moans, loud and low, and shoots his come along Jimin’s walls.
It feels so good, feels so right, Yoongi filling him up like this. He’s never done this before, has never trusted anyone enough, but this is right. It’s Yoongi.
Yoongi’s breathing is heavy as he pulls out, shuffling back on the bed and– oh God.
Jimin’s arms buckle and his head falls onto the pillow when he feels the first lick of Yoongi’s tongue over his hole. “Hyung,” he moans. “Do that again.”
Yoongi presses a kiss to his ass and spreads his cheeks with his large hands. His tongue laps over his fluttering hole again, slow kitten licks as Yoongi’s come starts dribbling out of him.
The slow laps of his tongue soon turn into lascivious strokes, from his balls all the way up to his hole. Yoongi snakes a hand around him and wraps his fingers around Jimin’s cock. It’s still miraculously hard. He isn’t twenty anymore, he thinks wonderingly. How did he get hard again immediately after his orgasm? What sorcery is Yoongi performing?
Because his tongue is magical as he neatly sucks all of his come out of Jimin’s hole, kissing and licking and sucking until the pillow Jimin has pushed his face into grows wet with his overwhelmed tears.
He comes again when Yoongi rubs his thumb over his slit while he pushes the tip of his tongue into Jimin’s hole.
Jimin slumps down onto the duvet, not bothered by the fact that he’s falling into the pool of his own come.
“Oh my God,” he breathes.
The bed dips with Yoongi’s weight as he settles beside Jimin. He presses a kiss to Jimin’s shoulder before rolling him onto his back. There’s a little bit of come sticking to Jimin’s belly, and Yoongi smiles before dipping his head and licking him clean.
“The rest is for the washing machine,” Yoongi smiles against Jimin’s mouth. “Though I wish…”
Jimin giggles and throws a leg over Yoongi’s hips. But, God, he feels so sated, so good and complete. So exhausted, but in the best possible way. “You’re dirty, hyung.”
“Mmh,” Yoongi agrees easily, and kisses him. “But I have a feeling that you are, too.”
Jimin raises a single eyebrow, barely holding back a grin. He circles Yoongi’s wrist with his fingers and then reaches up to tap the spikes of the headboard.
“See? You’re dirty, too.”
“‘S why we belong together, hyung,” Jimin says, burying his head in Yoongi’s chest and resting his hand on Yoongi’s sun tattoo. He feels safe and sleepy with Yoongi’s arms around him. He sighs. “Ten years.”
Yoongi hums, scooting closer into his embrace. He trails a hand across Jimin’s back lazily. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” he cheekily murmurs into Jimin’s hair. “So how soon do you think you can go again?”
“Hyung!”
- 2013 -
Namjoon never expected his nineteenth birthday party would end up as chaotic as this. It’s his first time hosting something like this and he’d pretty much invited everyone in his programme.
The living room is overflowing with people dancing and chatting, so he lingers by the breakfast bar, making sure everyone has a drink at all times. Someone has hijacked his bluetooth speakers and swapped his carefully curated R&B playlist for a playlist filled with TV show jingles from their youth, while two girls from his class are playing balloon volleyball, high as a kite on the brownies Yoongi made that afternoon.
He’s just pouring some vodka into a fruity cocktail when Yoongi bounds into the kitchen, a moony smile lighting up his face. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes are uncommonly shiny.
“You’re drunk,” Namjoon notes, rolling his eyes at his roommate. “We said we’d keep it low, in case the neighbours–”
Yoongi offers a toothy grin. “‘S cause of you, Namjoon,” he says, swinging his arm in the direction of the cocktail, which, in all honesty, probably holds a little more than a single shot of vodka. “Made them sooo strong.”
“Ew,” Namjoon scrunches his nose when Yoongi tries to hug him. “Get off.”
“Gotta thank you, my Namjoonie, my good friend,” Yoongi slurs. He folds his arms around Namjoon’s waist, his hold surprisingly strong.
“What for?”
Yoongi giggles and forcibly drags Namjoon into the living room. On the sofa sits Park Jimin, eyes as bright as Yoongi’s, his cheeks redder still, with his legs crossed at the ankles. He’s looking around the living room expectantly and nods his head to the beat of the Pokémon intro song.
Namjoon hears Yoongi’s dreamy sigh.
Pointing in his direction, Yoongi says, “‘m gonna marry that boy one day, Namjoonie. Gonna marry the shit out of him.”
“Who? Park Jimin?”
“Park Jimin? That’s his name?” Another sigh. Yoongi buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder. “God, even his name is beautiful. How’s that fair, Namjoonie?”
“How do you know you’ll marry him if you didn’t even know his name until just now?” Namjoon says, trying – and failing – to pry Yoongi’s fingers from his waist.
“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi says sagely, leaning into him. “I don’ expect you to understand this just yet, but when it happens to you, you’ll know.” He taps the side of his nose and finally releases his hold on Namjoon’s waist, only to move swiftly across the living room and climb into Park Jimin’s lap instead.
So no, in 2013, maybe Kim Namjoon didn’t expect his birthday party to evolve into this.
But when Yoongi and Jimin show up to his birthday party exactly ten years later, holding hands and wearing the same moony smiles and glittery eyes, he can’t say he’s surprised.
Not in the least.