Archive of Our Own

The day Jimin leaves dawns sunny and warm, which is the first thing of a thousand things that will be unfair. The first of something should be important, Yoongi supposes, but it isn't, really. Nothing is important when a person is being hollowed out from inside.

Yoongi helps him pack, because according to Jimin they're becoming adults and Yoongi figures it's the sort of thing an adult does. They'd never told him that in his classes, expecting him to pick it up through the same osmosis where people learned to do their taxes and wear seat belts on short trips and talk about the stock market at parties.

Annoyingly, it seems like he has.

Jimin doesn't cry. He'd cried the night before, sobbing, broken, but on this sunny morning he shows nothing at all, because he is also an adult. His beautiful face is empty, stolen inside of a pain that Yoongi has no hope of curing because he is the pain. He hadn't even known they were dying, this whole time, and he feels like an apple might feel, falling from a tree into the void, understanding that its entire existence had been leading to this moment of ending.

Whenever they almost touch, brushing past each other in the too-small space like the single organism they'd been, they both jerk away and that's also an end.

Taehyung comes over exactly on time, his truck spotless and waiting to collect the shrapnel of Yoongi's life, boxed up in cardboard with Sharpie labels on the side.

"Did you know?" asks Yoongi when they load a box of books, heavy tomes of other lives that Jimin had escaped into every day. "How unhappy he was?"

"Some," says Taehyung. "Not this much. I think he was scared about the group. That we'd stop being friends."

Yoongi worries the skin around his thumb, a habit he'd tried to break for Jimin that he doesn't have to care about anymore. "Do you think we will?" he asks. "Split you guys up, like a divorce?"

"I don't know," says Taehyung. "I hope not."

So does Yoongi, mostly because he knows they'd go with Jimin, because Jimin is the one people like to be around and he's the one they tolerate. He'd keep Namjoon, probably, but everyone else is Jimin's these days. When they'd agonized over the risks of dating in the early throes of passion, terrifying each other with stories of eventual screaming matches and battle lines, Yoongi had never considered a future where the lines were simply shifted without fanfare, and he was left with nothing at all.

Jimin walks out of the door of their apartment complex - of Yoongi's apartment complex, now - and the way he stands means that this is the last box, and the last time he'll cross the threshold, and Yoongi wants to scream. He knows everything about Jimin's body, every mole and scar, and that hasn't changed simply because Jimin says it's time to move on.

He walks over to them slowly, his hair pink and sweet. Yoongi had dyed it for him just last week, and he'd been looking forward to seeing it grow out, to knowing what it looked like every morning as it transformed from one thing to another. He can't believe he'll only see it in gaps from now on.

Jimin says nothing as he puts his box in the flatbed, giving Taehyung a little sideways hug that's another piece of unfairness. He holds out his hand, metal flashing between his small fingers, and Yoongi takes the keys like it's not stabbing him in the heart. He loves Jimin with his entire soul, but his soul is such a small thing, without enough space for the person Jimin had turned out to be.

"Good luck," says Yoongi, then stops, because he doesn't want to say goodbye. They're going to stay friends after this, Jimin had promised him and he'd promised Jimin, and that means that they'll see each other in three days at the coffee shop, because Tuesdays are always their afternoons at the coffee shop.

Adults can do these things, too, be in love and not have it show. They can bandage themselves up to hide the bleeding from everyone in the world.

"Thanks," says Jimin softly, and he gets in Taehyung's truck without a backwards glance.

It's Yoongi who stares at the smoothness of its exit, watches it disappear into the maze of buildings until he can't see it anymore, and he wishes he could cry. He wishes that he had some place to put all of this jagged hurt, but he'd been born without that particular outlet so instead he clenches his fists until his nails dig crescents into his palms, then heads back into the vacuum he lives inside of, now.

The furniture is there, just some half-empty shelves to remind him of what happened, and for the rest of the day he's able to pretend that Jimin is coming back, that they'd had one of their fights and he'd stormed out to see friends, that he'll be back later for make up sex, sweet and sorry.

But when Yoongi finally goes to sleep the fiction fades, because a hoodie is folded up at the foot of the bed, black and ratty with the string gone from the hood long ago. Yoongi had put it in one of Jimin's boxes even though it's his, because Jimin had worn it for years, ever since the first night they'd realized they couldn't live outside of each other any longer.

It had been a rainy evening, and Jimin had come over to his place like he always did in the rain, because he said the sounds were better at Yoongi's. Jimin loved the way raindrops pattered against the window, making him drowsy and warm, and he'd spent a hundred showers curled up on Yoongi's couch in bliss. Yoongi had been going home from class when the first drops hit his cheeks, and he'd never really examined the bursts of joy he felt when he looked at a rainy forecast, but part of him had been aware that he was going to see Jimin and that was a happy thought.

And when he'd walked in Jimin was there, reading, nose too close to a book with his thick-rimmed glasses an afterthought across his face. He'd been swimming inside Yoongi's favorite hoodie, big and black and formless where it puddled around his knees like a dress. And it was in that bright moment, before Jimin had even registered his existence, that Yoongi had suddenly seen everything, the shape of the entire world buried inside of a friend, who belonged in this place with Yoongi forever.

He'd eventually given Jimin the hoodie to keep, though Jimin asked him to wear it around the house to make it smell like him, so that he could hold onto it whenever Yoongi was gone. And now he's left it behind, and it's this thing that's the most unfair, of all of the unfairness of this entire day, because Yoongi can't keep it but he also can't throw it away. He hates Jimin a little bit for leaving him a trap, right in the middle of their bed, like this is the way they relate to each other now.

Yoongi lifts it to his nose and breathes, smelling Jimin's shampoo and his soap and the clean, natural scent of him, and then he lays it carefully on Jimin's side of the bed, stretched out and flat. He's half-tempted to put a pillow inside of it, to hold it in the night, and he knows he is stupid. He is so very stupid and pathetic and sad, and he still doesn't cry when he lays down next to it and can't fall asleep.

So this is the first day without Jimin, and Yoongi would like to think it will get easier but he knows it probably won't.

Jimin weeps in the truck's cab, sick to death of holding it in. He feels like a piece of taffy, tearing apart, leaving pieces of himself behind him, and he'd thought this would heal him. He hadn't thought there were more ways to break.

Taehyung is worried, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel in his rhythm for anxiety, but he doesn't say anything as Jimin sobs. Jimin wishes he'd brought the damn hoodie, that thing that is so much Yoongi that even touching it was enough to soothe him these days.

Which is why Jimin had left it behind, because Yoongi was the safety blanket that would stop him from ever growing into the person he's supposed to be. He will think of Yoongi every day, he's sure, and when it rains he'll be lost inside memories of the way it felt to be so loved, but he'll control what he can, when he can, and that will have to be enough.

When his sobs subside to coughing little hiccups, they're almost to Taehyung's, and his friend looks at him with obvious concern. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," says Jimin.

"Why did you do it? I know you were having problems, but if it's going to be like this, why break up with him at all?"

It's a complicated question with a simple answer, and Jimin says it as he's said it to himself so many times over the last weeks. Rehearsed it, to make it a little truer than it is. "I've been in love with him for four years, dated him for two, and I'm still the same person I was when I first met him. I need to do something different. I need to be someone different."

And the reason that Taehyung is his best friend is that he nods in total understanding. "There's nothing worse than being stuck," he says. "Even if you're stuck inside of heaven."

"Yeah," says Jimin as they pull up to Tae's place. "That's it exactly. I don't want to be stuck."

Because Yoongi is so content with life the way it is. He hadn't understood when Jimin had asked him to go try new things, had asked him if they could take a vacation somewhere without knowing for sure where they were going, when he'd wanted tomorrow to be different in some way than today. He hadn't understood that Jimin wasn't living life just to be content. That there were happier endings to want.

Every fight had been about that, at the root, and there had been so many recently. The fights about going out too late, coming home too early. The fights about Jimin keeping Yoongi awake with his restless sleep, the fights about the strangers Jimin talked to in every place, the fights about Yoongi's constant bailing on any new plans that Jimin tried to make. The fights about graduation, and what Jimin wanted to do after it, and why he didn't want it to still be this.

The only thing they'd never fought about was whether or not they loved each other, but that seemed like such a weak thing underneath the rest of their weight. Not enough to build a future on.

"Thanks for helping me," says Jimin when Taehyung is moving his boxes into his ground floor place. "I'll be out of here soon."

"You can stay forever, as far as I'm concerned," says Taehyung.

"And Jeongguk told me I've got a week, so I'm guessing that gives me about ten days."

Ten days to figure out an entire life, but that feels more exhilarating than terrifying. For the first time in a long time he feels like Jimin again, like a person of unlimited potential. He'd used to feel that way all the time. Infinite.

He sighs, stretching out the boundaries of his mind, testing the wingspan, and it feels good even around the empty hole he's made in himself. Once he's out of school, he'll be an even bigger shadow against the universe.

Yoongi was already out of university. He had money, enough at least, and he was in total control of his life and all he wanted to do was wear flannel pajamas and drink coffee and live inside his four familiar walls with Jimin exactly like this.

"I don't want to think about Yoongi anymore," Jimin announces to the world at large, which happens to be Taehyung and a couple of birds on a nearby tree that fly away at the sound of his voice.

"Okay," says Taehyung. "Do you want me to flick you on the ear whenever you do?"

Jimin takes a step back from him, startled. "No. How would you even know?"

"I'll know," says Taehyung simply, and he hoists out the last box. "If you get flicked on the ear, don't be surprised I guess."

Jimin kicks at him and Taehyung dances away from his foot, and Jimin knows he'll get flicked plenty but for now he feels light.

Yoongi shows up at the coffee shop a full fifteen minutes early, and he's wearing a button-up shirt he hadn't even known he owned and he is absolutely fucking ridiculous. They'd made fun of him at the office, where he usually wore a threadbare shirt and a knit cap and felt professional enough.

But this feels like a date, it feels like the most important date he's ever had, and it had taken all of his considerable willpower to walk past the nearby flower shop empty-handed. It's stupid because he'd never bought Jimin flowers even when they'd been together, but these last days have been Thomas Edison and the light bulb for him, testing out a thousand ideas for how they might have worked before discarding them as failures.

But maybe flowers would have been enough to glue together whatever had been falling apart between them when Yoongi hadn't been paying attention.

He gets his coffee and sits at their favorite table, which is conveniently empty, and he appreciates the support from the universe. This morning he'd run out of milk, because Jimin was always the one who got the groceries, and he'd been hazy and off-balance ever since. Every day now is made up of endless moments where things that had always been no longer were, and it hurts more than he can bear.

He needs Jimin back so badly that he's shaking with it where the plastic coffee lid touches his lip. He will never say it to anyone but himself, but he knows it's true, because after a lifetime of seeking solitude he doesn't know how to be alone anymore. When he goes home, everything will be exactly where he left it, and that thought is nothing but despair.

Yoongi thinks through a dozen conversations while he waits, plotting out the courses that they might take, trying to find the keys that will turn this complicated lock. He knows it can open, because he watched it snap shut, and Jimin can't be as finished with him as all that. He can't be.

When he finishes his coffee he looks down at his watch, frowning. Ten minutes late. That's unlike Jimin. But texting him feels wrong, so instead Yoongi sits, looking up at the door with every movement, feet tapping nervously under the table.

Another coffee later, another twenty minutes later, and Yoongi storms out of the cafe with steely purpose. Fuck being an adult. Fuck all of this. Jimin had promised him, but what the fuck did promises matter between them anymore? Jimin would have promised anything to get out of there, Yoongi sees that now, and he'd better fucking learn to like being alone again.

By the time he gets home his temper is ready to snap, and he stomps into the bedroom where the hoodie rests exactly where he put it, stretched out on Jimin's side of the bed. On the other side of the bed, he reminds himself, snarling, and he snatches it up to take it to the garbage. To take it to the fucking incinerator and burn it out of existence. To throw it out on the street and let cars drive over it, let the world press out every hint of memory inside of the damn thing.

He gets as far as the window before he can't do it anymore, before grief overbalances his anger because it's raining. It's raining outside, and Jimin isn't here, and this is not something that Yoongi can survive.

But he does, he breathes, and he keeps breathing, and by the time the rain is gone he's numb but alive. He'll be existing this way for a long time, inside this half-life, and it was foolish to think that he and Jimin could be friends, much less heal. It was foolish to ever hope anything, and he packs all hope away inside of him, tying a ribbon around the box and setting it in a place he'll never reach again. And he does the same with the hoodie in his hands, dragging a chair over to the closet so he can stand on it and tuck the worn fabric at the back of the highest shelf.

He won't destroy it, but it will be gone, and he'll just have to start buying his own milk again.

Before he goes out to the store he texts Hoseok, who's the closest thing their group has to a fulcrum, and says, Tell Jimin I got the message. I'm done.

Hoseok replies only in emotes, a frown and a checkmark, and Yoongi stuffs his phone in his pocket as he steps around a newly formed puddle without missing a beat.

Jimin loves clubbing, he decides. It's not that he hasn't been to dozens over the years, starting before he was legal, slipping in under his older friends' arms with a shy smile, but he's never done it like this. Going to clubs alone had been an exhausting gauntlet of refusals, and going with Yoongi had been an exercise in control and stealth as they tried to stay out of the light. He'd danced with his friends, and with Yoongi when he'd deigned to, but it had all been subdued somehow. A little solemn.

This clubbing is different. He feels so bright, free and seen, and Jeongguk dances with him in the exact center of the crowd, because the center is always where they are. People are staring at them, Jimin can sense it, because Jeongguk is arresting and Jimin isn't half-bad, and it feels good. He can't remember the last time he'd been somewhere and thought that he was a spark instead of a smolder. He's been a banked fire for a long, long time.

He drops into a split before popping up again, and Jeongguk rolls his eyes and drags him out of the crowd.

"If you're doing that, you need another drink," he says, laughing, and Jimin laughs too as they weave their way through the masses. Jeongguk peels off to get the drinks, and Jimin heads to the slightly raised dais they'd settled into for the night.

Taehyung and Hoseok are holding down their table, heads bent together in serious discussion, and if Jimin didn't know it was about an anime he'd be a little worried. But it always is, and he slides onto a stool with a sunny smile, saying, "Naruto is better than Onepiece."

"I will murder you with my mind," says Hoseok, not even looking at him, and Jimin giggles to himself. But the giggle fades as they keep talking without him, and he remembers what it was like to have his own conversational partner whenever he wanted him. Not that he'd always wanted him, given said partner's annoyance with social situations. But it had been nice, when he did.

A sharp pain hits him, and he reaches up to grab at his ear. "Ouch!"

Taehyung shrugs, turning back to Hoseok, but he's smiling in a not-entirely-nice way. Jimin sticks his tongue out at him and sighs in relief when Jeongguk plunks a cocktail in front of him. "My hero," says Jimin, taking a long drink. "You should have gotten me two."

"I'm not your date," says Jeongguk. "One drink until you buy me one. Those are the rules."

Jimin's about to give him shit for his cheapness when Hoseok waves so violently he nearly falls off of his stool. "Namjooooooooon!"

Namjoon obviously hears the piercing scream, as does the entirety of the club, and Taehyung swats Hoseok on the back of the head. But he shakes it off, and when Namjoon gets close enough Hoseok gives him a huge hug. "It's been forever, man," he says. "Where's Jin?"

"He says he's too old for this shit," says Namjoon. "But I wanted to see you guys, and all you do now is drink."

"And dance," says Jeongguk.

"And dance," says Namjoon, face creasing painfully. "I love fruity drinks, though, so I can do at least one thing with you. Where's the bar?"

Taehyung volunteers to go, giving Namjoon his seat, and Jimin can't stop himself from looking around. "Is Yoongi coming?" he asks, not sure what he wants the answer to be.

He regrets asking when Namjoon's expression darkens. "No."

"Why not?" asks Jimin, a little horrified with himself but unable to stop. By the end, Yoongi had barely come out with them even when Jimin begged. It's not surprising he's not here, and their friends have been so good about keeping themselves clean, and Jimin has just dirtied them completely.

Namjoon takes a deep breath. "Well," he starts, but he doesn't get to finish before Jeongguk jumps up.

"Come dance with me!" he says quickly, tugging on Namjoon's arm, and it's good he's ridiculously strong because Namjoon doesn't seem to want to move. But eventually they're swallowed up inside the moving bodies, and Jimin is left with Hoseok's mild disapproval.

"I'm sorry," says Jimin.

Hoseok scoots a little closer. "It's okay," he says. "But you know you can't ask stuff like that, right? We love you, but we're not your go-betweens."

"I know," says Jimin. He takes another drink. "Namjoon hates me, doesn't he?"

"Of course not," says Hoseok. "He understands that love isn't something you can force. We all do. But you know Joonie. He's got a soft spot for sadness. You remember how he was with you."

Jimin wants to say that he's sad now, too, but he knows that he's probably not going to win that particular contest. And Namjoon had been his biggest champion back in those days when Yoongi had seen Jimin as nothing but the kid with thick glasses who hung around them all, laughing too hard at Yoongi's jokes and dying with every brush of his eyes. Back when Jimin wasn't much of anything to speak of, and Yoongi had been gravity, pulling him in without even being aware.

Namjoon had spent endless hours listening to his crush, his silly yearnings, the simple way he'd wanted. The simple way he'd loved him, and been sure that Yoongi would never notice. Jimin hadn't been control of their relationship, then. Yoongi had been the one with all of the power, so it made sense that Namjoon was with Yoongi now, when Jimin had taken his own control.

"Yeah. I remember," says Jimin, and wonders why he doesn't feel more powerful.

Taehyung comes back with drinks, puzzled at Namjoon's absence, and Hoseok leans over to talk to him where Jimin can't hear. So Jimin looks around him, tapping on his thighs to the beat, still happier than he's been in a while. Not fully happy. But close.

A body moves close to him, and Jimin turns in mild surprise to see a cute guy smiling down at him. He's tall, and broad, and his face is open invitation. "Want to dance?" he asks, because he's young, Jimin's age maybe, and he doesn't seem to be worried about much of anything at all.

And the reflex is still there, the one that makes him start to apologize for having a boyfriend, that he can't dance because he's taken even though he wants to do nothing more, that familiar guilt for being pretty and unattainable. Jimin flushes as he chokes off the words, sounding like he's never been hit on his life, and the guy smiles more broadly at his shyness. He moves a little closer, so Jimin bites his lip and nods.

"Sure," he says, and he tries to find something flirtatious, like trying to prime a rusted-over pump. "I hope you can keep up with me."

The guy's eyes brighten as he holds out his hand and pulls Jimin up. "I was watching you earlier," he says. "And babe, I'm definitely willing to try."

Jimin laughs and allows himself to be led. They're under bright lights again and the cute guy never looks away from him even once, and Jimin doesn't have to feel guilty about anything at all.

Yoongi hasn't seen Jimin in three months. It's not surprising, when he thinks about it, though he tries not to think about it too much. After all, their lives had almost no overlap, beyond cohabitation. Yoongi's working at his construction firm, his steady nine to five that keeps him housed, and Jimin's still in school, at least for now. And Jimin is out all the time probably, finding all of that life he'd been missing out on, but Yoongi hardly ever leaves the house so that's no danger either.

It's unlikely Jimin is partying at the grocery store.

Their only overlap is their friends, but their friends are clever, and close, and behave like a single creature when they put their minds to it. It takes Yoongi awhile to notice how carefully they're dividing them, how they move in pods of two or three at a time, but never the same two or three. Yoongi sees all of his friends at various times, when they stop by at his place with food, or a movie they want to watch, or a new album they want him to hear. And there are parties he's invited to, and somehow Jimin is never at them, but at each one there are a couple of other people missing, too.

Because they're with Jimin, of course, he realizes too slowly, but once he sees the pattern it's impossible to unsee it. He mentions it to Jin over dinner once, Jin who is becoming almost as much of a fixture in his life as Namjoon these days.

"You guys don't have to go to so much trouble," says Yoongi, grabbing another piece of pork. "We're adults. We won't cause a scene if we're at the same party."

"Probably not," says Jin agreeably. "But we don't take Hoseok skydiving, or make Jeongguk play games where he has a chance of losing. It's not trouble. It's being friends."

"It would be easier for you if you were just friends with Jimin. Then you wouldn't have to coordinate so much."

Jin's eyebrows raise. "Are you saying you don't want to be friends with us anymore?"

His tone is offended, and Yoongi hastens to smooth it over. "Of course not. I don't know what I'd do without you, really. But I don't want to give you headaches when you're already juggling so much."

He's so anxious that he almost doesn't notice when Jin's lips twitch in amusement, and Yoongi kicks at him under the table. "Hey! I'm pouring out my heart here, and you're mocking me."

"Stop being so cute, and I'll stop teasing you," says Jin. "Look at how grumpy you are! Like a kitten dunked in water. Adorable."

Yoongi mutters under his breath, but he's smiling as he wipes at his mouth with a napkin.

Jin stuffs his own mouth full of meat, then says around it, "We're both of your friends. Someday it will be okay with you guys, and we'll stop, but for now it's no inconvenience. Really."

"Let me pay for your meal, at least," says Yoongi, and Jin nods enthusiastically, so Yoongi kicks him again. "You were supposed to say no."

"I love free food," says Jin, not at all ashamed. "Especially when it's guilty food. And speaking of free food, do you want to go out with my coworker this weekend?"

"What a segue," says Yoongi, picking at the meal between them. "I don't think so."

Jin blinks at him ingratiatingly. "He's cute! He likes music and brooding and is a very good kisser, according to the guy from IT who says they made out at a company party. And he thinks you're dreamy."

"He said I'm dreamy," says Yoongi skeptically.

"He didn't say it, but when I accidentally-on-purpose left that hot picture of you up as my desktop background, he definitely got a little soft in the eyes."

Yoongi tries to smile, but his insides are twisting. He's not sure how to tell Jin, who's being so considerate, that the careful pattern they're creating to keep Jimin away from him isn't making Jimin any less real. That every time he bumps up against the edges of their space, every time he finds another place where they seamlessly keep him from stepping, it just creates another reinforcement of the hollow shape he's avoiding. It's like a photo-negative of a life, walking around the edge of a bottomless chasm of pain, and that chasm is shaped like Park Jimin.

They're being so protective, and Yoongi had still looked Jimin up last night and saw that his hair wasn't pink anymore. And ever since, that thought's been an echo in his mind, that Jimin's hair isn't pink. That the last he'd known Jimin, his hair was one color, and now it was something else, and Yoongi hadn't been there for the change.

He's pathetic, and his friends can't make him not be that.

"I'm not ready yet," says Yoongi. "It wouldn't be fair. Maybe someday."

Jin sighs. "You know that there will be a person who is the person you date after Jimin, right? That will happen, and putting it off doesn't mean it won't."

"I know," says Yoongi. "Just… not yet."

Yoongi hates the whining quality in his voice, knows that he really is too old for this, so he says, "So how's that new marketing exec working out?"

And nothing gets Jin more incensed than workplace drama, so he launches into a rant about nepotism and failing upwards that takes them through the rest of the meal, though his parting look says that Yoongi isn't out of the set up woods. When Jeongguk casually mentions Jimin's new boyfriend at their next party, with an apology that's only a hint overdone, and Namjoon comments on how hot Jin's coworkers are with the subtlety of a jackhammer piercing concrete, Yoongi finally gives in.

"Give me his fucking phone number," Yoongi says to Jin, who manages to look only a little smug as he hands it over. "And don't you dare make that face at me."

"It's just my face," says Jin. "Unbearably handsome, isn't it?"

Yoongi grunts, but he texts the guy later, and he supposes the enthusiasm of his response is a little bit healing.

Jimin's into new experiences, but beach parties are something he can cross off of his personal list of enjoyable nights. Chanyeol is great, and his friends are nice, but it's too cold and there's sand all over him and he knows his hair looks like a disaster in all of this wind. He's sitting on a log, for Christ's sake. Jimin doesn't sit on logs.

"You're gorgeous," says Chanyeol in his ear, stealing a kiss below it. "My friends are so jealous of me."

Jimin preens under the attention, twisting himself up for a more thorough kiss. "Really?"

"Really," says Chanyeol. "They might try to steal you, so don't wander off, okay?"

And he says it with a smile, but it doesn't seem entirely like a joke, and Jimin wonders what kind of friends these are. But this doesn't seen like the right time to bring it up, so instead he says, "I'm already with the best guy here, why would I want to go anywhere?"

"Babe, you always know the right thing to say," says Chanyeol, and before Jimin realizes they're going to they're making out. And it's a little embarrassing, here in the middle of the crowd, but they're far from the only couple doing it and Chanyeol always knows how to make him feel special. He always knows how to make it feel like the entire world was made for Jimin, and just Jimin, and Jimin loves to be so adored.

When Chanyeol's hand snakes under his shirt, Jimin suddenly remembers where they are and pulls away. "Mmm, not here. Save it for later?"

"Is that a promise?" asks Chanyeol. He looks a little frustrated, but Jimin's definitely not going to round the bases with anyone on a crowded beach, no matter how cute he is or how much he worships Jimin.

"Definitely," says Jimin, giving him a sweet peck, and Chanyeol's frustration vanishes beneath another charming smile.

"Chanyeol!" says a voice, and they both turn to see an unreasonably tall guy staring down at them. "I wondered if you'd be here."

"Junwoo," says Chanyeol, a little less enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm here. How are you doing?"

He stands up and does a complicated handshake greeting, something that they all seem to have with each other and that Jimin doesn't think he'll ever master. Junwoo turns to him with a considering look, more analytical than welcoming, and says, "This must be the new guy everyone's been talking about. Taemin?"

"Jimin," he says quietly, bowing from where he sits. He doesn't like this guy already, doesn't like the way his voice sounded when he said everyone had been talking about him, really doesn't like the way he'd gotten his name wrong like he'd meant to. "Nice to meet you."

Junwoo nods back, then turns to Chanyeol again. "Not to steal your new relationship thunder, but I wanted to introduce you to my boyfriend."

He tugs on the bomber jacket of the guy behind him, who's been staring out at the ocean and hasn't said a word, and Jimin's stomach is already dropping before he turns all the way around. Because he recognizes the tense set of those shoulders, those shoulders that are never quite fully relaxed, and of course it's Yoongi giving him a frozen look just short of hostile.

"Min Yoongi," says Junwoo, waving towards him. "This is Lee Chanyeol, and… I'm sorry, I didn't get your full name."

"Park Jimin," says Yoongi, and his tones are even but it sounds like a swear word anyway. Because he's never said Jimin's name like that, like it's something he wants to spit out. "Hey."

"You know each other?" says Chanyeol, looking between them.

"We have friends in common," says Yoongi. "Nice to meet you, Chanyeol. Junwoo says you're still in university?"

"Accounting," says Chanyeol. "Over a year left, though."

"Ah, you'll have no trouble getting a job with that, I'm sure," says Yoongi. "But I'll wish you luck, of course."

Chanyeol thanks him, and Yoongi continues to make pleasant small talk with him and Junwoo, and Jimin isn't saying anything at all because he doesn't recognize this person. This person who goes to beach parties and wears trendy bomber jackets and talks to strangers like they're not bothering him. This person who has conversations without wincing. This person who won't even look at Jimin at all.

"So how long have you been dating?" asks Junwoo, his arm around Yoongi's shoulders like they do it often, like Yoongi doesn't hate to be touched like that in public. Yoongi snuggles into his side, perfectly at ease.

Chanyeol looks down and shrugs. "A few months?"

And he says it exactly as Jimin says, "Nine weeks and three days," and that's embarrassing, to have his first words here be something so obviously clingy.

But Chanyeol only laughs, leaning down and kissing him. "My precise Jiminie," he says fondly. "You're so sweet."

He asks if they want another drink, and Jimin definitely does, but then Junwoo offers to go with him and Jimin and Yoongi are left alone, which is exactly the thing he didn't want to happen. Jimin expects Yoongi to turn around and leave, maybe even leave the entire party, but instead he crosses his arms and says, "Your hair is silver."

Jimin touches it self-consciously. "Yeah. I only have a month left until interviews, so I wanted to do something special before I have to go back to black."

"You don't have a job yet?" says Yoongi, surprise clear in his voice, and Jimin flushes. Yoongi always makes him feel like such a fucking kid, just because he hasn't planned everything out fifteen years in advance. This is a person he recognizes, at least, and that makes things easier.

"No," says Jimin. "There's plenty of time. I have good grades. Good test scores. The publishing companies will be interested."

And this is where Yoongi would usually relent, and reassure him, because Jimin knows he sounds more vulnerable than he means to. But instead Yoongi shrugs. "Don't leave it too late."

"Thanks, Dad," says Jimin sarcastically. "So, you go to beach parties now?"

"Yep," says Yoongi. "Junwoo wanted to."

"You mean it's possible to do things that your boyfriend wants to do? I had no idea."

And Jimin is burning, but he doesn't know why, because he's the one who broke up with Yoongi, goddammit, and he doesn't even want to be at this party anyway. Yoongi should be the one who's befuddled, who can hardly speak in the face of him. Who feels a pull in his gut for things to be the way they used to be.

But Yoongi's face is so cold, like he doesn't give even a single shit about Jimin, even though Jimin has been trying to be an adult about this whole thing. Even though he's trying to keep the peace between them as much as he can. He's been working his ass off to make sure their friends don't caught in the middle of them, and Yoongi is looking at him like he's garbage.

Yoongi shrugs again. "He asked nicely."

"I always asked nicely!"

Yoongi laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Good to see you, Jimin."

And he wanders away, off to some other knot of people to make dumb small talk, and Jimin stares after him with his mouth open. What a shithead. So much for being mature about this. If Chanyeol was here he'd let him fuck him right on the beach, right where Yoongi could see him, just to see the damn look in his eyes. Just to see some of that cold composure crack across his face.

Good to see him, his ass.

But some of Chanyeol's friends come by to talk to him, and Jimin puts a happy smile on his face as he falls into their gentle flirting. He's desirable, and beloved, and beach parties are the kind of fun he's going to be having for a long time.

Yoongi gets to the edge of the bonfire without seeing anything or anyone. He doesn't even really know where he's going, and he wishes he'd driven so that he could take off and never look back. His mind is full of the image of Jimin - his Jimin - wrapped around that fucking guy, shameless and completely gone. Sweet, shy little Jimin apparently wasn't so shy anymore, not when he was with someone who turned him on so much.

He'd watched that guy trace a line of butterfly soft kisses down Jimin's throat, the exact thing Yoongi had always done to drive him wild, the exact thing that made Jimin open up like a flower, and he'd nearly lost it right there. It had taken everything he had to be civil to the asshole, to make small talk instead of do what he wanted, which was lift him bodily and toss him into the fucking ocean.

Jimin's silver hair looks so damn good on him.

He's reminded of why he didn't start throwing punches when Junwoo joins him, two plastic cups in hand. He shoves one into Yoongi's fist and takes a big drink.

Yoongi takes his own sip and recoils. "Jesus, what's in this? Lighter fluid?"

"Just drink it," says Junwoo irritably.

And Yoongi does, because why the fuck not. Clearly they're not driving home anytime soon. "So that was your ex?"

"Yeah," says Junwoo, sighing. "And I take it that was yours. What are the odds?"

"Yeah," says Yoongi.

"He's cute."

"Tell me about it," says Yoongi. "So's Chanyeol."

"I know," says Junwoo. "We're just the saddest fucking people, aren't we?"

"At least we have each other, boyfriend," says Yoongi, and Junwoo groans.

"Sorry about that. But they were all over each other, and I panicked."

Yoongi laughs. "I don't care."

Boyfriend sounded better than 'guy I went out with a couple of times, and now fuck when I'm too sad' anyway. He and Junwoo hadn't been that into each other, but they'd been very into forming a two-person support group wherein they moaned about their exes together and didn't have to get set up by their friends anymore. Yoongi appreciated him more for the emotional outlet than the sexual one, though both were nice. His friends were being cool, but even Yoongi knew he couldn't bitch to them about Jimin any more.

"So what's the plan for the rest of the night?" asks Yoongi.

"Finish these drinks as fast as possible, then go back out there and put on an R-rated show."

But he doesn't sound certain, and Yoongi touches his arm. "Or, how about we finish them slowly, find somewhere quiet and out of the way, and just look at the ocean for awhile?"

"That's so sappy," says Junwoo. "You turning romantic on me, Yoongi?"

"I'll have you know I'm quite the romantic," says Yoongi. "I'd sweep you off your goddamn feet. Then immediately drop you because you're taller than a tree, but you'd be swept as shit."

Junwoo smiles reluctantly. "Prove it."

Yoongi shifts his drink to his other hand, then takes Junwoo's. "Come on, baby. Let me show you how I can take the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."

Junwoo groans but follows, and Yoongi only looks back once, and beautiful Jimin is so obvious by the fire, where he's dancing with Chanyeol like a boy in love. Like he has no cares in the world, like Yoongi had never existed at all.

"This is the stupidest idea you've ever had," says Jimin, hunching over his drink. He and Hoseok are sitting at a hotel bar, where Hoseok looks carefree and relaxed and Jimin's half a step away from burrowing through the floor. "We look so out of place."

"We look fantastic," says Hoseok, checking them out in the backing mirror, and that's undeniable. They look like movie stars in their wedding-level suits, and if Jimin didn't know better he'd think they were exactly what they were pretending to be - successful businessmen unwinding after a long day of work, looking for dates.

Jimin feels anything but successful.

"Okay, but we're also twenty years younger than anyone here," says Jimin. "They're going to think we're prostitutes."

If anything, Hoseok brightens. "You think? I could use a rich benefactor," he says. "Dancing gigs are hard to come by."

"And how are you going to explain to Tae that you're some kind of kept man?"

"What did I say about the T-word tonight?" asks Hoseok. "I said none of that. He's officially on the no-fly list for conversational topics."

Jimin rolls his eyes. Hoseok and Taehyung had been dancing around each other, literally and figuratively, for months now, and Hoseok was too chicken and Taehyung too oblivious to seal the deal. "If I keep talking about him, can we leave?"

"I'm doing this for you, Jiminie! You're the one who said you were sick of dating club hoppers. Here's some of those sophisticated, settled down guys you've been dreaming of."

"A little too settled," says Jimin, darting a glance at a guy who's been trying to catch his eye for five minutes. "They're all my dad's age."

Hoseok grins. "That can be hot though."

Jimin cocks an eyebrow at a corpulent guy who's winking at them both, and Hoseok chuckles. "I said can be."

"This is dumb," says Jimin. "There's got to be somewhere that young professionals hang out. Guys our age who know more than how to do a good body shot or brag about their car."

"Yeah, they're in the office," says Hoseok. "The really serious ones basically sleep there. They don't have time for you now. Give them ten more years and they'll be back outside looking for a hot piece of ass again."

"I don't want to wait that long," says Jimin, pouting. "Besides, they can't all be like that. Yoongi didn't sleep in the office, and he was serious. There have to be other guys like him."

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. "Because he had you to come home to," he says, like it's obvious. "He sacrificed a lot of career advancement in those early days, you know. But he's making up for it now. We hardly ever see him."

"He did? He never said anything." Jimin searches back through his memory guiltily, trying to find times where Yoongi had been passed over or stuck in his job. He'd never seemed unhappy.

"When have you ever known Yoongi to say anything? About anything? That man could give a stone lessons on silence."

"True," agrees Jimin, laughing, but he knows it's not true. Yoongi had told him everything, every thought that was ever in his head. Jimin had been the only one who'd known what really made him tick, even among their friends. It's what had ended them, really, but that was something he didn't think about anymore.

The bartender slides over to them, two drinks in her hand and a folded piece of paper. The look in her eyes says she does this a lot as she deposits the drinks in front of them. "Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar."

She drops the note off as well, already turning to another customer, and Jimin leans over it and reads, How much for you both?

Hoseok laughs delightedly while Jimin flushes and stands. "That's it. I'm leaving. You can have my drink. If you get busted for prostitution, I'm not bailing you out."

"See you later," says Hoseok, already starting on his drink and smiling at the guy who'd sent it. A guy who wasn't totally hideous, at least. "Text me when you get home safe."

"Okay. Love you," says Jimin, tugging down his jacket and making for the door. On his way out he texts Taehyung with their address and tells him to save Hoseok from himself, then wanders into the night. It's a pleasant one, not too muggy, and he thinks he'll take a walk for awhile. Just think about things. He's been doing that a lot recently.

At first he's mostly taken up with work, the manuscripts he still needs to proofread, the careful editing he's been assigned. He knows he's behind, because he's not someone who spends his life in the office either even though he loves what he does. But he hadn't realized how much having a job in books would atrophy his love for reading, and he misses the relaxation of sinking into a good story. Instead he feels antsy all the time, living only this one life.

He's aware of people checking him out as he passes them, friendly and more than friendly, and it's nice to still be so bright and adored but it's a little lonely too. It's been awhile since he's had a steady boyfriend, even longer since he's felt fully present in a relationship. Being an adult is turning out to be much more difficult than he'd ever imagined.

With a start he realizes his feet have been guiding him to a purpose because he suddenly stops moving, looking up at the subdued edifice of Yoongi's building. The one that used to be his too, months ago. Over two years ago, he realizes with another start. Has it really been two years? How could two years feel so small?

A sudden rush of nostalgia runs through him, and before he's aware he's going to he's walking up to the row of buzzers. Because he and Yoongi are friends now, after a fashion. Not the kind of friends that text late into the night, or text at all, and not the kind of friends that pick each other up at the airport or share secrets, but the kind of friends who don't snap at each other in every interaction. The kind of friends who can have ten minutes at a party, catching up, and leave without battle lines being drawn.

That's not really the kind of friends who can drop by each other's places unannounced, looking for something Jimin can't even begin to name, but if he's learned anything over the last two years it's that there's nothing that's not worth trying, once.

He rings the buzzer, astonishingly nervous, trying to remember the last time he even had to ring. Yoongi had given him a key almost as soon as he moved in, saying that he couldn't be bothered to get up and buzz him in every time his little Jimin stopped by, but he hadn't made it mean. He'd never made anything mean. Even their breakup, he'd made nice. Easy for Jimin to leave, or as easy as it could be to do something so hard. Jimin had never thanked him for that.

"Hello?" says a voice over the speaker. It's a woman's voice, and Jimin steps back in surprise.

He checks the number again, already knowing it's right, and says, "Hello? I'm looking for Min Yoongi."

"No one here by that name," says the woman's voice, and then there's the sound of a muffled conversation. "Oh. The last tenant. He's gone. Don't know where he went, sorry."

She clicks off, and Jimin is left on the sidewalk, flabbergasted. Yoongi had moved. Yoongi, the guy who'd said he'd rather be buried alive than have to pack again, had gone somewhere else. And Jimin didn't even know about it. None of his friends had told him, even though they surely knew. Yoongi hadn't told him, in any of their ten minute catchups. Which meant Yoongi didn't want him to know where he was.

He didn't want Jimin to find him again. Maybe they aren't any kind of friends after all.

It's so stupid, because he still has Yoongi's number… at least he thinks he does. He hasn't tried that in years either, and they don't get invited to the same group chats anymore. Jimin takes his phone out in a panic, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the right one, finger hovering over it. But does he really want to know? What will he do if Yoongi answers? What will he do if he doesn't? What if he hadn't even noticed as Yoongi did surgery, removing Jimin from his entire life as thoroughly as a tumor?

He doesn't press it, putting the phone to sleep and back in his pocket. Instead he turns around, a little too slowly, like he's drunk, and he gets in a cab and goes back to his own empty place to catch up on work.

Yoongi is absolutely, positively, never going on a blind date again.

His boss's nephew is as handsome as advertised, as successful and charming, and he's absolutely insufferable. Yoongi had tried to amuse himself by counting how many times he bragged about some expensive nonsense he'd wasted his money on but he'd lost track around the time he'd talked about his watch that had an emergency GPS beacon in it that would signal rescue from anywhere in the world. Like he was some kind of mountain climber instead of a rich boy blessed with more family connections than brains.

Yoongi tries to keep that thought off of his face as he takes a very long sip of wine that's the most expensive on the menu - this guy drinks nothing less, apparently - and calculates how much time he has left before he can leave without getting demoted. Not that he'll ever have to see this particular asshole again. The saving grace of this night is that the guy doesn't seem even a little bit interested in Yoongi beyond escorting a somewhat attractive guy to a visible table at a trendy restaurant. If push came to shove, Yoongi's not even sure his escort could come up with his family name.

Only an hour left to go.

As his date launches into a story about a helicopter tour of Hawaii he'd taken with some minor film star, the blessed feeling of Yoongi's phone buzzing hits his thigh. He pulls it out, not recognizing the number but also not caring. He'd answer a call from the devil himself, sell his soul without blinking, to get out of five minutes of this conversation.

"Excuse me," says Yoongi, taking the call. "Hello?"

"Min Yoongi?" says an impersonal woman's voice. "This is Seoul General Hospital. You're listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Park Jimin, and I'm sorry to tell you that he's here now -"

"Is he okay?" asks Yoongi, sitting up straighter, not even noticing when his napkin slides off of his lap to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I can't give that information over the phone," says the woman smoothly. "We're ready to release him, but we require another party to sign him out. Would you be willing to stop by the emergency room within the next hour?"

The emergency room? Holy fuck. If they're ready to release him, it can't be anything terrible, but his stomach still clenches under the words. "Of course," says Yoongi, his voice tight. "I'll be right there."

He hangs up without waiting for a response, standing up and brushing himself off. "I'm sorry. My friend is in the hospital. I have to go pick him up."

His date blinks at him - god, what was his name, Yoongi can't even remember now - and says in frosty tones, "There's no need to fabricate a story."

"I'm not. That was the hospital," says Yoongi, running his hand through his hair. He pulls out his wallet, takes out whatever cash he has, then takes back enough for cab fare. "Sorry. I'll give your aunt the rest of the money for the meal. I have to go."

He takes off without a backwards glance, getting to the hospital in record time thanks to liberal berating of the driver, then jumps out and through the sliding doors with barely a thanks. His mind is strange clouds, the only thought able to form is that Jimin is hurt. Jimin is out there, somewhere, being hurt, and Yoongi doesn't take care of him anymore but that's not a thing that's okay.

A nurse points him in the right direction, escorting him through rows of loosely hanging curtains until they get to a bed that contains a very pale Jimin. A very pale and tired-looking Jimin, whose lower leg is wrapped in the white plaster of a huge cast that makes him seem small. Fragile.

His mouth drops open when Yoongi comes in. "What are you doing here?" he asks, small spots of pink marring his white cheeks.

The nurse tactfully leaves, and Yoongi can't make himself get any closer. "They called me," he says. "I'm still your emergency contact, I guess. Are you okay?"

"I broke my ankle," says Jimin, making a face. "It was really dumb."

"You broke your ankle?" asks Yoongi stupidly, blankly. "Jesus Christ. I'm sorry." He looks around him vaguely, like he can make an administrator materialize. "They said they're ready to discharge you. I'll take you home."

Jimin laughs a little, and that also sounds tired. "Aren't you going to ask what happened?"

"You've been through enough tonight without having to tell me an embarrassing story," says Yoongi.

"Or you don't care."

Yoongi's eyes widen. "Of course I care. You're my friend," he says. His first love. His only love, if he's being honest, even if they aren't that anymore. "What happened?"

Jimin runs a hand through his hair, which is the same black it's been since university ended, as far as Yoongi knows. "I've been seeing this guy, and he's into like, adventure sports? Weird races, things like that. Kind of like Jeongguk. And I'm not ready for rappelling down a cliff or anything, but I said I'd go to one of those haunted maze, zombie-run things."

Yoongi had gone cold at the mention of a boyfriend, but he can't keep a straight face at the last. "Oh my god, you're kidding. You voluntarily got chased by zombies? Doesn't this guy know you're the biggest wuss in the universe?"

"Hoseok is the biggest wuss in the universe," says Jimin petulantly. "And you're the one who slept with the light on for a week after we watched The Grudge."

"You have no proof of that," says Yoongi, still grinning. "So did you trip over something?"

"I fell down the stairs," says Jimin. "Just like, three stairs. Barely even stairs. But I was looking behind me and I hit them wrong. The zombies were really scary!"

He says the last with a classic Jimin whine because Yoongi can't muffle his laughter anymore. "You might want to come up with a manlier story than that before Jin gets a hold of you. He's going to have a field day. Say you were protecting a frightened young girl from being mauled or something."

"Shut up," says Jimin, but he's smiling too. "I want to go home."

"Sure," says Yoongi, going to get the crutches leaning against the wall. "Hey, so where's your boyfriend? Why'd they have to call me to get you released? Is he hurt too?"

"Oh. Well, he has to get up early tomorrow for a family thing, and it was going to take a long time for me to get the cast, so…"

Yoongi freezes, turning around to look at Jimin, who has the grace to look embarrassed. "He left you here? Alone?"

"I didn't know they wouldn't release me without an escort," says Jimin defensively. "I thought I could get myself home."

"On a broken ankle," says Yoongi flatly. He bites off the other things he wants to say, mostly because by the look on his face, Jimin already knows them, and a little bit because he knows his anger isn't entirely coming from friendship. "Let's go."

"Were you on a date?" asks Jimin unexpectedly as he stands up, balancing gracefully on his single good leg.

"Ah," says Yoongi, looking down at himself. His stupid date outfit. "Yeah. A shitty one. A broken ankle would have been a massive improvement on my night."

"I'm sorry," says Jimin, and Yoongi's not sure if he means for the shittiness of the date or for interrupting it. "I'll change my emergency contact. To Namjoon or something."

Yoongi shakes his head, steadying Jimin on his crutches. "He drops his phone into a body of water once a week and leaves it behind the rest of the time. Keep me. I'm the most responsible friend you have. Just try not to have any more emergencies, yeah?"

"I'll try," says Jimin softly, his mouth curving into a small smile. He's still gorgeous, Yoongi realizes belatedly. Even like this, pale and in a hospital gown, he's the most beautiful person Yoongi's ever known.

Shit, the hospital gown. "Do you need help getting dressed?" asks Yoongi, and he's proud of the steadiness of his voice.

Jimin shakes his head, cheeks a little red again. "Just get me my clothes? They're in that cabinet. I was in sweats so they'll go over the cast okay."

So Yoongi does, and he turns around politely while Jimin wrestles with his clothing, and when he turns back everything is as expected, except for the erratic pounding of Yoongi's heart. They get down the hall to the triage nurse easily enough, where she yells at them for not having Jimin in a wheelchair, and they sign all of the papers that need to be signed and fill the prescriptions that need to be filled, then get another cab.

When they slide in, Yoongi waits quietly, but Jimin doesn't say anything. "Your address?" Yoongi says eventually, a little painfully, because he hasn't known where Jimin lives for years now.

"Oh," says Jimin, giving it quickly, and the cab takes off smoothly. They don't say anything else, just look at the lights of the city, and Yoongi's heart still feels like it's going to explode. Jimin's being brave, but he has to be in pain. The tightness around his eyes says he is, and he's dating an asshole who abandons him for sleep after he gets him injured at a stupid zombie run. A thing that Jimin hates.

Since when does Jimin do things he hates for guys?

When they get to his place, a sleek high-rise, Yoongi helps him out of the car and pays the driver with all of his remaining cash. Jimin protests, but Yoongi won't hear a word of it, and the cab leaves and they're outside of the building.

"It has an elevator," says Jimin. "You should have kept the cab. Taken it home. I can get up to my apartment okay."

I don't want you in my private place, his body language says clearly, and Yoongi hesitates, because Jimin's had a shitty enough night without Yoongi adding to it. "You shouldn't stay alone."

"I'll call Taehyung," says Jimin. "He'll stay with me. Or Hoseok. Or both of them, probably."

"Okay," says Yoongi, uselessly. He doesn't know if it's okay to give Jimin a hug, but he wants to. His fingers are itching with it, his arms already anticipating the feeling of Jimin inside of them.

He doesn't.

Instead he says, "If they don't answer, call me, okay? I'll come back. Don't spend the night alone. Promise me."

Don't call that dick, he wants to say, but he doesn't, because Jimin's too tired to have a fight right now.

"I will, I promise," says Jimin. "You have the same number?"

"Yeah, I have the same number," says Yoongi, scratching at his wrist. "How else would the hospital have gotten a hold of me? Take care of yourself."

Jimin nods, turning around and hobbling his way to the door without looking back. Yoongi watches him until he can't see him anymore, tapping his foot. Jimin's not his to take care of anymore, but his brain hasn't seemed to get that message, and he feels somehow incomplete. He stands on the sidewalk for longer than he should, biting at the skin around his thumb, hissing when he draws blood. There's so much worry inside of him, and he doesn't know where to put it.

Eventually his mind lets him go, and he turns around to look for a way home when he spots a grocery store across the way, and he suddenly knows what he can do with his worry. He walks through it slowly, picking out things that are ready-made, easy to eat without mobility, things that are Jimin's favorites. Or that used to be, at least, which is the best he can do right now.

When he's done he gives Jimin's name and address to the cashier, sheepishly admitting he doesn't know the apartment number, but they do. They deliver to Jimin a lot, it seems, and she thinks he's a sweetheart, and she's very sorry to hear about his injury. She adds a Get Well card to the pile without Yoongi even having to ask, and he's so very grateful that Jimin still makes friends wherever he goes.

He'll be taken care of well.

He pays for the groceries, declining to sign the card with her, knowing that Jimin will know this is him but not wanting to put his name to it, somehow. And when he goes back into the night he's got a text from Hoseok saying he's staying with Jimin, so there's nothing left for Yoongi to but walk home.

"What in the fuck am I doing here?" mutters Jimin to himself. He's standing in a receiving line, waiting to meet two grooms he barely knows, and he has no date because his friends are mean, and he feels stupid. But he'd been so touched to be invited, so weirdly emotional about the thought of a wedding, that he'd said yes before he'd fully thought it through.

And the ceremony had been lovely, at least, letting him cry without a hint of shame, because there was nothing Jimin loved more than a happy ending. It was a little strange, watching a guy he'd used to sleep with get married, but Chanyeol had been nearly as overwhelmed as Jimin as he said his vows, which boded well for his future life.

When Jimin reaches them in line, Chanyeol lights up. "Jimin! I'm so glad you could make it."

He enfolds Jimin in a huge hug, still as enthusiastic as ever, and Jimin hears a clearing of the throat above him that has him scrambling back. "Ah, I'm not sure you're supposed to hug ex-boyfriends at your wedding. That's probably bad luck."

Junwoo stares down at him, caught between amusement and annoyance, and Chanyeol elbows his new husband. "He's just being a dork. He hugged an ex-boyfriend today too, so we're even. So how are you?"

"I'm good!" says Jimin, well-practiced. "Everything's going well. But you have a long line, so I won't take up your time talking about me. Congratulations! I'll try to see you more at the reception."

"You'd better," says Chanyeol. "I'm married, not dead, and you're the best dancer here after me. See you later!"

Jimin gives a much more subdued bow to Junwoo, who's not nearly so enthused about his presence, and he makes his way into the banquet hall. It's fancy and romantic, filled with twinkling lights, and to his horror Jimin feels himself misting up again. He shakes himself, grabbing a glass of wine from the bar and looking for his assigned table. The singles table, almost certainly, but as Taehyung said, you never knew what kind of hot guys might be at a singles table. And if not, there were usually double the groomsmen at gay weddings.

Jimin weaves his way through the growing crowd, stopping to greet Chanyeol's friends whenever they recognize him, promising dances to a few, and he's almost cheerful when he reaches his table and spies a waiting basket of bread. He's just sat down, chomping happily, when a familiar voice says, "Jimin?"

He stops mid-chew and turns around with wide eyes. "Yoongi?" he tries to say, but it's muffled by the bread. Jimin swallows quickly, then chokes, then drinks down half of his glass of wine in an effort to stop the coughing.

By the time he's done Yoongi's standing next to him, hand hovering over his shoulder like he's not sure if he's going to need to unblock his airway. Most people would probably be making fun of him, but Yoongi looks genuinely concerned. "Sorry about that," he says. "I'm just as surprised to see you, if that helps."

Jimin nods, his eyes watering as the aftershocks of his coughs subside. "If you could do something equally embarrassing about it, that would be nice."

"Ah, there's no need to be embarrassed," says Yoongi with a smile. "It's cute."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "It's definitely not," he says. "So why are you here? I'm glad, because I thought I wasn't going to have anyone to talk to, but I definitely didn't expect to see you."

Before Yoongi can answer, Jimin snaps his fingers. "Wait, you used to date Junwoo, didn't you? Oh god, we just watched our exes get married."

Yoongi shrugs. "Not exactly. I only pretended to date him to make Chanyeol jealous. Since they'd just broken up at the time," he says. He takes in Jimin's surprised face. "I'm guessing Chanyeol never told you about him."

"Not even a little! That sneak, making me a rebound," says Jimin. "But I'm more surprised that you did it, though. Took part in some kind of sting operation. A successful one, apparently!"

"I doubt that," says Yoongi. "They didn't even start dating again until this year. And I'm not really the type to make someone jealous, anyway."

Jimin frowns. "That's not true. You're cute and successful and smart. If my ex dated you, I'd feel threatened."

"Thanks," says Yoongi, laughing, like he doesn't believe it.

"So where's your date?" asks Jimin, twisting around in his chair. "Are you still with that architect?"

"No," says Yoongi. "He moved to the States. We weren't serious enough for that, so it ended things. I'm here solo."

Jimin brightens. "Me too! Thank god, you can hang out with me all night. Save me from desperately hitting on groomsmen."

"What if I was planning to hit on the groomsmen?" asks Yoongi seriously, and Jimin freezes. "I'm kidding. I'd be happy to hang out with you. We're already at the same table, apparently."

Jimin claps, then pulls out the chair next to him. "Sit! Sit! Tell me everything that's going on with you."

But Yoongi needs a drink first, so he goes and does that, and by the time he's back Jimin has a more specific question. "So why did you come? If you're not really his ex, I mean. I know you're not a huge fan of marriage. Or parties."

"It's been awhile. Maybe I've changed," says Yoongi, and this time he doesn't say he's kidding. "Besides, just because I didn't date him doesn't mean we aren't close. We're good friends. I even slept with him, for awhile."

"Oh," says Jimin, eyes wide. "But he's so tall. How did that work?"

And then Yoongi laughs, full and big, his smile overtaking his face, and Jimin is struck by how handsome he is in his suit. He looks just the same as he used to look, maybe a little older, maybe a little fuller, but exactly the same anyway. Jimin had made him laugh that way all the time, when they were alone, when no one was there to see serious Min Yoongi crack into something softer. He'd laughed that way every time he'd loved Jimin.

Jimin wants to see it again.

"It was exhausting," says Yoongi, confusing him, because he doesn't even remember what they were talking about. "You're constantly moving from one place to another, trying to cover all of the bases. It's like wind sprints or something. I stick with guys closer to my own height these days."

"I'm short," says Jimin, and he doesn't say it with any special emphasis, but Yoongi gives him a piercing look.

"Yeah, you are. Still shorter than me, punk."

"Just by a centimeter," says Jimin, not sure if it's true but it feels like it should be.

"It's enough," says Yoongi.

Someone else comes to the table and Yoongi greets them, introducing them to Jimin, and they're sucked into a group conversation about the weather and the economy and other boring things. But Yoongi's hand is on the back of Jimin's chair the whole time, and Jimin is very, very glad he came.

"Dance with me," Jimin whispers later, after the speeches are done and the food is consumed and the lights have dimmed a little. After he's had enough glasses of wine to feel a little more reckless than he should. After Yoongi's hand isn't on his chair anymore but is instead on the back of his neck, rubbing it, sending sparks up and down his spine. Jimin's slept with a lot of people but he's never slept with anyone as long as he slept with Yoongi, and there are some things that a body doesn't forget.

Like the pattern Yoongi's fingers trace when he's thinking about sex.

And Yoongi doesn't even make a joke as he folds his napkin over his empty plate and stands up, pulling Jimin with him. He's not really looking at him, but his hand is still restless inside of Jimin's own, and when they get to the floor he draws Jimin against him with a force that's a little less than polite.

Jimin doesn't complain, moving into the beat. He can dance differently than this, more showy than this, but he doesn't want to tonight. He wants to be a thing that's only Yoongi's right now, someone who sways in secret without so many eyes on him. He leaves as little space between them as possible while staying decent, but he knows he's not being decent by the way Yoongi mutters under his breath when he draws closer.

The song changes, again and again it changes, but neither of them broach the idea of leaving. Instead they stay lost in each other, ignoring everything else, barely even breathing in case this thing between them should break. It feels like it could, it feels like it could be crushed with just a single word, and Jimin doesn't know what to say to get them to the next stage. Because there has to be a next stage, because Yoongi is the person who taught him what love is and that's important in a place like this. It can't just die out like it never was.

Eventually Yoongi laughs, low and sexy in his throat, in the middle of a slow song that has Jimin turning dreamily against him. "It seems my little Jiminie has changed, too," he whispers. "There was a time you wouldn't let me do this. You only wanted the fast songs."

"I'd let you do anything," says Jimin, just as low.

"Even this?" asks Yoongi, and his hand moves from the small of Jimin's back to the curve of his ass, and it's possessive, and deliberate, and Jimin doesn't know if he means the touching or if he means everything, but either way his answer is yes. It shouldn't be, because they're in the middle of a bunch of people and where are they even going to go, but Yoongi is so hot and it's been so long since Jimin's had good sex. Too long.

"Anything," says Jimin again, more breath than sound.

He doesn't know what Yoongi's response is, because at that minute there's a hand tapping him on the shoulder, startling him out of his trance. He turns, still in Yoongi's grip, his hand tight across his ass, and sees Chanyeol grinning merrily at him.

"Can I cut in?" he says. "Jimin, you promised me a dance!"

Jimin sees Junwoo talking to a clump of people on the edge of the floor, half an eye on them, and he feels more than hears Yoongi growl against his shoulder. "Uh," he says.

Chanyeol doesn't acknowledge the hesitation, tugging at his arm. "This is my wedding, so what I say goes. Come on."

And Jimin peels away reluctantly, hating to lose those tingling feelings, but he's stopped short when Yoongi grabs his arm. "Come to the bar when you're done," he rasps in that gravelly voice that's chocolate dipped-sex, and Jimin can only nod, not trusting his own voice not to fail him.

And then Chanyeol has him in the middle of the floor, where they'd always used to be for maximum visibility. A fast song winds around them, and Jimin tries not to glare. "Congratulations again," he says, not sounding at all sincere as Chanyeol dips him.

"Thanks!" says Chanyeol sunnily. He pulls Jimin in tight and adds, "So, this is a hotel."

Jimin blinks, not sure he heard right. "Are you hitting on me?"

"No!" says Chanyeol, exasperated. "For you and your ex."

"Jesus," says Jimin. "I'm not… I mean, we're not…"

"That sputtering would be much more convincing if he hadn't just had his hands all over you in the middle of my romantic reception," says Chanyeol, but he doesn't sound upset. He sounds like Hoseok, who'd always been the biggest pain in Jimin's ass of all of his friends.

"I'm not going to get a hotel room like some kind of horny teenager at prom," says Jimin, more definitely.

"Lucky for you you don't have to," says Chanyeol triumphantly. "We already have a room. Junwoo's from last night."

He flourishes a keycard, but discreetly, then drops it into Jimin's suit pocket when he doesn't react. "Look, obviously we couldn't sleep together the night before our wedding, because we're secretly heterosexual as hell, but we're just as obviously going to sleep together tonight. But we still have the other room. 1622. Use it. There's lube and condoms in the nightstand, because we're not that heterosexual."

He spins Jimin again, who's absolutely unresistant. Who's barely able to remember how to dance. "Are you fairy godmothering me into a hookup?" Jimin finally asks. "At your own wedding?"

"My grandmother would disapprove, I know," says Chanyeol. "But Jimin, I absolutely believe in paying my debts. Tell Yoongi thanks from both of us."

The song ends as if on cue, and Chanyeol smacks a kiss on his reddening cheek before wandering back to his husband with a cheerful goodbye. Jimin stands stock-still in the middle of the floor until someone bumps him, and he remembers where he is, and he touches the pocket with the keycard with trepidation. With temptation. With the knowledge that he probably can't resist it.

He makes his way to the bar, not having to look hard for Yoongi, who's hot like fire and just as shining in this place. He'd never sparkled before, not that Jimin can remember - his attraction had been heavy and dark and irresistible - but tonight he's impossible not to notice. And he's staring at Jimin with equal, unwavering attention, like Jimin is someone he's never seen before.

Yoongi has a drink ready for him when he arrives, something sweet and bitter combined, and Jimin drinks it without taking his eyes off of him. Yoongi licks his lips, unconsciously, and Jimin nearly dies right there.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," says Yoongi finally, but his eyes are still interested, intensely, and Jimin doesn't have time for this cautious Yoongi bullshit. Not when his nerves are thrumming. Not when he's already seen the delicious shape of this entire night.

So Jimin steps closer, running his hand up Yoongi's dark suit until it finds the nape of his neck. Until Yoongi isn't breathing anymore. Until Jimin is the only thing reflected in his eyes. "There's a room upstairs. Take me there?"

Yoongi leans forward and kisses him, sweet and a little messy, and Jimin moans into his mouth. Not loud. Just enough for vibrations, and Yoongi swears against him as he pulls away. "Where are the damn elevators?"

Yoongi waits impatiently as Jimin selects the floor, even more impatiently as the elevator door closes, praying that no one else gets in. This is such a terrible idea, every dark corner of his brain knows that it's a terrible idea, but other parts of him don't give a fuck, and those are the parts that are in control right now. Jimin's face is flushed in the polished mirror glass of the fancy elevator, and his eyes are a little unfocused with lust, and that's not helping matters any.

As soon as the doors close, thankfully on just them, Yoongi's all over him.

Jimin kisses him back, whining a little desperately, the way it used to take endless, focused foreplay to get him to sound, and Yoongi groans. "Already? Fuck, baby."

That elicits another whine, another tug at his jacket, and Yoongi presses Jimin back against the wall, working a leg between his thighs as he kisses him thoroughly. Dangerously. Sloppily. And Jimin gives it back just as hard, his tongue fighting Yoongi's wherever it can. Yoongi barely registers when the elevator stops and the door opens, but Jimin shoves him back through the opening, mouth already swollen and tempting as he follows.

"So eager," says Yoongi, low, because he always talks during sex. He never talks any other time, but sex is where he lets go, and Jimin is so quiet that it makes him crazy. It was a game, to see how loud he could get Jimin to be, and he's ready to play again. "I don't know where the fuck we're going, you know."

Jimin grabs his hand, dragging him down the hall, and Yoongi laughs despite his growing need. He'd wondered, a little, if Jimin would still want him. If Jimin hadn't outgrown someone like Yoongi in all of his time becoming himself, because Yoongi has never been even close to good-looking enough for Jimin, even before he'd turned into a man so sexy he gets stares just by breathing. Back when he'd been a sweet kid in glasses, he'd still been gorgeous enough to turn every head in a room.

But Jimin's clearly willing to lower his standards again, and Yoongi's glad. When Jimin stops abruptly in front of a door, reaching into his pocket, Yoongi runs into him but turns it into kisses along his neck, kisses that distract Jimin from whatever he's doing in his pocket.

"Let me," says Yoongi, reaching in, grabbing the keycard as he feathers kisses down that precise line that he remembers as Jimin's head tilts back onto Yoongi's shoulder. "Like that, do you?"

"Like everything," sighs Jimin. "Want you."

"I know you do," says Yoongi darkly. "You'll be begging for me soon enough."

He opens the door and turns Jimin around, kissing him again, walking him into the room and letting the door slam behind them. Yoongi doesn't even know whose fucking room this is, but maybe it's Jimin's. Maybe he'd been planning to have a quickie with the first guy he saw at the reception, and Yoongi supposes he'll be that guy, if it means he gets this.

When they hit the bed Jimin sits with a thunk, but he holds onto Yoongi throughout, kisses turning more sporadic as he shrugs off his jacket and undoes his buttons with a single practiced hand. Yoongi watches him with one eye, enjoying the striptease, enjoying the soft touches of his lips in between movements, overwhelmed by the sensations.

"I'm going to fuck you," says Yoongi before he knows he's going to, and Jimin kisses him harder, nodding against him, murmuring pleases. "Tell me you want it."

"I want it," says Jimin, his shirt gone now too, pulling Yoongi down to work on his own buttons. The little brushes of his fingers against Yoongi's stomach are delicious torture.

"What do you want?" says Yoongi, because he needs to hear the words. He hasn't heard them for years, and he needs them like he needs oxygen. "Say it. Say my fucking name."

"Yoongi," says Jimin breathlessly. "Fuck, Yoongi, I want you to fucking wreck me."

"Jesus, baby," says Yoongi, and he pushes Jimin back on the bed, clambering over him, taking his mouth with new force. His cock is hard and ready in his pants, and Jimin moans around Yoongi's pressing tongue when Yoongi grinds into his thigh.

Jimin's hands scrabble at his belt, Yoongi's flapping shirt forgotten in his eagerness, and Yoongi leans back to help. When Jimin tries to yank his briefs down, too, Yoongi stops him with a hand around the wrist. "Not yet," he says, smirking at the frustration on Jimin's face. "You haven't earned it."

"Fuck off," says Jimin, but he's already up on his elbows looking for Yoongi's mouth again.

And Yoongi meets him, lets Jimin play his tongue across his jaw, grunts out encouragement, relishes in the bruises that Jimin's mouth is giving him in all the right places. But when Jimin flops back, arms shaking with effort and need, Yoongi's distracted by the hard lines of Jimin's body, which had always been good but never anything like this.

Jimin notices, biting his lip, and plays a hand across himself like he's some display model he's trying to get Yoongi to buy. "Impressed?"

Yoongi nods, too lost to play, and now it's his turn to press his mouth to Jimin's skin, paying attention to every dip and valley, hovering across his nipples, wringing out the little sounds that make him wild.

"Going to let me hear you?" he asks absently. "Going to scream for me?"

Jimin makes a negative noise, still muffled through his clenched jaw, but Yoongi doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all, because he has Jimin's pants off, he can see the curve of his cock beneath his silky underwear, and Jimin is definitely going to scream.

When he shoves the fabric aside and takes Jimin in his mouth, Jimin arches off the bed with a surprised cry, and Yoongi groans around him. He doesn't stop Jimin from tangling his fingers in Yoongi's hair, from pushing him closer, because Yoongi loves this. He loves everything about this, and Jimin is falling apart beneath him. He doesn't waste time with teasing, taking him deep right away, and Jimin holds him in place for long seconds, grinding into him, no longer muffled but desperate.

They stay that way for awhile, Yoongi pulling back only to draw breath, to give Jimin just enough relief to want him again, until he yanks back on Yoongi's hair, pulling him off with an obscenely wet sound. "You're going to make me fucking come, you asshole."

"You don't want to come for me?" asks Yoongi, just to say it, just so Jimin can hear the hoarse rasp of his throat and shiver. "My sweet Jiminie always liked coming down my throat."

"Stop it," says Jimin, but it has no bite, his eyes screwed shut as his hips continue to rut against Yoongi's palms. "Not yet. Want to come on your cock."

"Shit," says Yoongi, clambering back up Jimin's body, pressing a kiss to his unresisting mouth, wrapping his fingers around Jimin's perfect neck, lightly, just enough pressure to make him feel it.

Jimin doesn't resist, canting his head back, giving him more. "Have I earned it yet?" he breathes, and Yoongi sighs into his mouth.

"I don't have anything, baby," says Yoongi. "I didn't come here… I didn't think…"

"The drawer," says Jimin, and Yoongi wonders how he knows that, wonders again where the fuck they are, but it still doesn't matter because when he opens the nightstand everything is there, everything he needs. He pulls out a bottle, and he takes a condom, and he tosses the bottle to Jimin, who frowns at him.

"Prep yourself," says Yoongi, not asking. "Put on a show for me. I know that's what you want."

And the frown turns into red cheeks and shyness, but Jimin doesn't deny it, and when Yoongi takes a pillow and puts it under him he doesn't do anything but shift into a more comfortable position and begin. He's showy about it, lewd and seductive, and Yoongi watches him like a cat watching a mouse. He talks him through it, praising him, asking for things that he knows Jimin loves. He can't take his eyes off of him. Can't get over the idea that it's just for him, again, that Jimin may have done this for a thousand guys but right now it's all for Yoongi.

That thought gets him looking at Jimin's face, which is watching him carefully, memorizing him. Yoongi half-expected to see his eyes closed in bliss, or imagining someone else, but he's fully present in the moment, and Yoongi's suddenly so hard that it hurts.

"You like that it's me, don't you?" asks Yoongi into the growing dark of the room. "All these years and you still fucking want me. You were going to be such a tease tonight, weren't you? Drive the whole room crazy with how hot you are, not letting anyone have it unless you let them. There you were in that tight, fuck-me suit, and you wanted people staring at you, craving you, but you're only doing this for me. Tell me. Say it."

"Just for you," says Jimin, his voice trembling. "No one's ever been like you. Never. I want you so bad, Yoongi."

"My Jimin," whispers Yoongi. "No one else's. Just mine."

"Just yours," agrees Jimin, sounding close to tears. "Please touch me."

And Yoongi does, grabbing the bottle back from Jimin, replacing his hand with Yoongi's own, and then Jimin does close his eyes, moans louder than ever when Yoongi grazes his prostate. Not enough to satisfy him, just enough to tease, but Jimin never gets mad. He begs, and he pleads, but he's never angry. He's so compliant, so very gone, and Yoongi feels close to tears himself.

"This reminds me of that night," he says softly, fingers still moving. "The big thunderstorm, and you watching it flashing at the window, and you turned to me and said…"

He'd said he wanted to go out and fuck in the rain, that he wanted Yoongi to take him while the clouds poured down on them, that he never wanted anything else. And Yoongi hadn't taken him outside because that was ridiculous, but he'd made love to him for hours on the floor by that window, blankets spread beneath them, Jimin shining in the half-light and fingers grazing the glass where the drops fell with every whimper.

Yoongi had done this then, touched him just like this, and he'd looked at Jimin beneath him and it was the first time he'd thought, Always. It was the first moment he'd felt infinity, forever days and endless nights, and he'd been so terrified. He'd been so in love with this man, in that moment. He hadn't known love could be so vast, like galaxies. Like nothing would ever be the same.

Two months later, Jimin was gone.

"I'm ready," says Jimin, and Yoongi crashes back into the present. "I'm ready, Yoongi, god I'm so ready, please fuck me."

And Yoongi leans down, still in the shadow of that memory, and he kisses Jimin gently. Not like the rough foreplay of earlier, but like the echoes of who they used to be. Because as long as it had taken Yoongi to fall in love, it would take him longer to fall out. He might never learn how to fall out.

Jimin blinks up at him, confused, sweating and still wanton, and Yoongi tries to smile. "You're ready."

And Yoongi pushes into him, and Jimin is tight and hot and perfect around him, and he does scream eventually, when Yoongi sets the brutal pace that he can't help but set. When Yoongi wrecks him, just like Jimin wanted, because Yoongi can't stop himself and he'll do anything that Jimin wants, anything at all, his whole life has always been Jimin, even when Jimin couldn't be seen.

When Yoongi crests, Jimin spasming around him in his own end, he thinks about infinity again.

Jimin doesn't quite know what to do. There are a dozen voices inside of him, all telling him what's next, and his mind has never been this noisy after sex. Not after coming like that, white-hot and melting, not after he'd almost passed out from pleasure.

He's not at all relaxed.

When he'd seen the shape of this night he'd thought it would end with laughter, maybe a little chagrin at the way familiarity made strange bedfellows. With sweet nostalgia for the way they remembered each other even when they should be forgotten. With some gratitude, for being able to be this way still, even in a single night, and still be friends.

For awhile that had been true, but something had changed at the end. Yoongi had changed at the end, reminding Jimin not just of bedrooms but of life, of how it was to live inside of Yoongi's skin and feel safe. Jimin had been his once, that way. That was true, and he'd almost cried, so many times he'd almost cried, and part of him wants to cry now, caught in that terrible night when he'd realized that Yoongi would never change enough to give him the life he wanted.

But a thing he knows now is that there might be no one who can give him the life he wants. Because Jimin wants everything, he wants to have a happy ending, he wants to wake up every morning and be exactly himself with a person he loves with all of his soul. And he's loved people since then, loved them in bursts like supernovae, but never in the way he loved Yoongi. And Yoongi is still the same as he's always been.

Or maybe he isn't. Because he's breathing next to Jimin, barely touching him, still sex-covered and disgusting but making no move to clean himself. That used to be the first thing he did, find towels or water or even shower, fastidious of the mess, but now he's just laying there, not doing anything. Staying with him.

"I can't believe we did that," says Jimin eventually, because Yoongi will probably never say anything now that he's come. He doesn't, usually.

"Yeah," says Yoongi, tired. His voice is still a little hoarse from where Jimin had used him, and that's an uncomfortable feeling. "Was it okay?"

"It was really good," says Jimin, and god, it's like they're strangers. Maybe they are strangers. Jimin tries to laugh and doesn't know if it sounds natural. "I never thought careful Min Yoongi would be the guy to sneak off in the middle of a wedding reception for a quickie."

"Seems like Park Jimin is a guy who's always prepared for it, though," says Yoongi, a little hard. A little sarcastic.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's pretty lucky you had this room all ready for us," says Yoongi. "Or for someone, anyway."

Jimin leans up on his elbow, grimacing at the mess on his stomach, and says, "It's not my room. It's Junwoo's. Chanyeol gave me the key because you were all over me downstairs in the middle of the dance floor, and he didn't want you to embarrass yourself anymore."

The voices in his head are all yelling at him now, asking him what the fuck he's doing, but he has no answer for them. He's just mad, suddenly, mad that Yoongi thinks he's some kind of slut. That he'd come up here with him because he thinks Jimin's an easy lay these days. He laughs, once. "Might have been nice if you'd been that into me when we were actually dating. Maybe we'd still be together."

Yoongi sits up too, face stone. "You're saying you dumped me because I didn't molest you in public? Because I didn't fuck you where everyone could see it?"

"No, I broke up with you because you never wanted me enough to do something wild," says Jimin. "Because you'd never do anything reckless, at all, ever, especially if it messed with your precious routine. Because you never treated me like I was worth more than your own comfort."

Yoongi's eyes narrow. "So you went off to get fucked in clubs? With all of those strangers who always had their hands all over you? Who would worship you endlessly, the way your needy little self had to be worshiped? I'm sorry I couldn't give you the adoration of twenty guys all at the same time. It wasn't for lack of trying."

"I'm not like that," says Jimin, furious. "I just wanted to be first on someone's priority list. I didn't want to have to beg to be noticed at all. Sue me for thinking I should matter to the guy I'm dating!"

"You mattered!" says Yoongi, and now he's standing up, pulling his clothes on, starting to pace. "Don't fucking give me that. I did everything for you. I went out to all of those stupid clubs and those dumbass parties and I missed sleep and promotions and life just to try to keep up. I would have done anything for you. You were my priority list. I just wasn't enough for you, apparently."

"You never asked me to marry you!"

Silence falls in the room, because Yoongi stops moving, and Jimin is breathing heavily but without noise, and he can't believe he said that. He can't believe he brought it up. The one thing he'd promised never to say to Yoongi, or to anyone.

Yoongi doesn't say anything, so Jimin gets up too, still naked, and goes to the bathroom to grab a towel. To get away from those startled eyes, pitying him, making him feel like a dumb little kid again. He's not dumb. He's over this. He's been over this for years, and he won't let his eyes overflow.

When he comes back out, Yoongi is fully clothed, and he throws Jimin's pants to him without a word. He watches him get dressed, still quiet, until he says, "You never told me you wanted to get married."

"I shouldn't have to say it," says Jimin. "If I have to say it, then it doesn't count."

"That's ridiculous," says Yoongi. "I can't read your fucking mind. I can't know what you want unless you tell me."

Jimin shakes his head, staring down at his shirt as he buttons it. "I wanted to be asked without asking. I wanted it to be perfect, and spontaneous, not something I had to beg for. Not something you'd make me pull out of you, like you did everything else. Because you went to my clubs and my parties but you hated it. You always reminded me what a damn chore it was for you."

"You were still in school," says Yoongi, ignoring him. "We were too young for any of it. Did it really have to be right that minute?"

Jimin finally glares at him. "You said you didn't believe in marriage. That you thought people who needed rings on their fingers to know they were in love were idiots. That true love wasn't about commitment ceremonies, but just about experiencing it. You said it was ridiculous to stand up in front of people to ask for their approval to be in love."

"Jimin, I was drunk," says Yoongi quietly. He doesn't deny it. He couldn't, because Jimin remembers every word of that little speech. Every word that told him he was going to be trapped inside of this relationship forever, never getting what he wanted. "I was talking to that girl whose parents didn't want her to get married to her boyfriend. I was trying to make her feel better! I probably did a shitty job, I don't know, but that wasn't about you. It was never about you."

"I know. It was never about me," says Jimin. "Nothing was ever about me. It was always about you, your opinions, your life. You never looked past where we were to think about what I wanted us to be. Maybe you thought I was finished growing up because I tried so hard to be what you might want. Because I fell for you the first minute I got to school. I'd broken up with my boyfriend because I thought university would be a place for me to be free, to try out new things, to not be trapped. And then I fell in love with you and I wasn't anything you wanted so I found a me that worked and I never got away from it. I just waited for you to think I was worth having forever."

Jimin stops, aware that this isn't what he wanted to say. Aware that this is entirely over. "Anyway, I realized that night that I would never be worth having to you. Not all the way. So I broke up with you. And I'm not sorry I did because I was so unhappy always pretending to be the same. Because I liked finding the real me, and these last years have been good. But thanks for the sex, I guess. It was fun."

He's crying now, and he hates that Yoongi can still do this to him, all of these years later. He's been stuck all this time inside Yoongi, and it's never stopped hurting.

"I can't believe you left me for something that was all in your damn mind," says Yoongi. "Without even saying anything. All those fucking years. I could have…"

He trails away, and Jimin doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything at all.

"I don't want anyone to know about this," says Yoongi, quietly, and his voice sounds like nothing now. "None of our friends. This never happened, okay? I don't want to go through all of that shit with them again."

"Fine," says Jimin.

"Fine," says Yoongi, and he walks past Jimin, brushing against his shoulder as he goes, and when the door closes behind him Jimin falls on the bed, sobbing.

"Guess what's finally here!" sings Jin from the Yoongi's door, waving something above his head.

"Your one-way ticket to Antarctica?" asks Yoongi hopefully, and Jin smacks him with a magazine.

"You'd miss me desperately," he says airily, sitting down next to Yoongi. "No, it's my article!"

Yoongi frowns in the effort of remembrance. "Which one?"

"The First Loves one, obviously," says Jin, like Yoongi's an idiot. "The one you're in?"

"Oh, the one you badgered me into interviewing for?" asks Yoongi, a little sour.

Jin had pitched his bosses an article about hot, aging bachelors and their memories of their first loves, and according to him Yoongi was the most aged bachelor he knew and was thus perfect for the piece. He'd asked a week after Junwoo's wedding, Yoongi still raw and silent after that stupid night with Jimin, and Yoongi had basically had to do it or risk Jin wondering why he suddenly cared so much about talking about his dead relationship.

Jin was like a fucking bloodhound when it came to secrets.

"I merely asked, as a friend, for you to contribute. It will get you so many dates!"

"Just what I wanted," says Yoongi. He takes the magazine, knowing Jin will never shut up until he does, and thumbs through it until he finds his overly made up face. "I look like a clown."

"You look hot," says Jin, but Yoongi doesn't hear him because he's suddenly all too aware of the face on the opposite page. A face that actually does look hot, unlike Yoongi's.

"What the fuck is Jimin doing in here?"

Jin raises an eyebrow. "I'm blessed with a surfeit of single friends, what can I say?"

And Yoongi is furious, because he'd only done this stupid thing because he'd been sure Jimin would never see it. He'd been sure that Jin would never let him, because he and Jimin were friends but they weren't friends, and Jin had seen how honestly he'd answered every question. How unable to lie he'd been, still bleeding after brushing against that love again. After realizing he'd lost it through chance, through stupid drunken words, through Jimin's absolute inability to trust him with the things that really mattered.

All Jimin had needed to do was ask him, and he hadn't. He hadn't cared enough to try, and he'd said he was happy without Yoongi, so what the fuck did it matter?

But it did matter, and Yoongi had listened to Jin's questions with immeasurable sorrow. About when he'd known it was love. About how long they'd known each other. About if he'd been in love since, if he would try again, because of course he'd said he hadn't been, and of course he'd said he would. These things were all true, he'd crawl back to Jimin inside the space of a heartbeat if he looked at him like he wanted it. He loves Jimin with all of his small soul, even now, because now he knows that Jimin is just different enough to make him irresistibly the same.

Reading through Jimin's answers, he wonders when Jin had interviewed him, because Jimin obviously didn't love him much at all.

His happy memories were all the beginning of Yoongi. The times when he'd cared for him simply, without hope, thinking that Yoongi had created the entire world. How long it had taken Yoongi to see him, the small perfection of him, the missing piece of his life that was Park Jimin. How many years Yoongi had wasted, thinking of Jimin as that cute kid who smiled too big, who shared too readily, who was too vulnerable to be touched. The kid who read big novels and internalized them, their stories spilling over into his own conversation, the extra lives he'd had to live because Yoongi hadn't understood him soon enough.

But afterward it was all non-regret. Jimin had said as much to him already, but it hurts more printed in black and white. That he'd been in love plenty since. That he doesn't know if he'd try again, shying away from the question with his delicate non-refusal that meant no. It always meant no, and Yoongi feels it like a dagger in his heart.

So Jimin will see this, too, and know that Yoongi is still helpless and pathetic, and he'll be even happier to be rid of him.

"Great article," says Yoongi briefly, shoving the magazine back into Jin's hands. "If anyone calls asking for my number, tell them I'm dead."

"Yoongi," says Jin, a little worried.

"Go away please."

Jin lingers, his eyes heavy on Yoongi's face, but Yoongi's not interested in looking at him. "Okay," he says eventually, standing. "I got your mail. It's on the table."

"Thanks," says Yoongi, unenthused. "See you later."

As soon as Jin leaves Yoongi starts breathing, in and out, careful counting to keep himself from losing it. He can still see Jimin's picture burned into his retinas, and he doesn't understand why Jin didn't know this would destroy him. Jin knows so many things, even if he doesn't know Yoongi had felt infinity again so recently, and he should have known better than this.

Eventually he stands, like a zombie, like a person not in control of his limbs, and he goes to his closet, pulling a chair alongside him. He'd moved, and he'd brought this because he couldn't leave it behind, so he slips on that old, ratty hoodie with hands that shake. It doesn't fit the same as it did, because Yoongi's bigger than he was, rounder and softer, but it still feels as much like home as anything can. He goes to the table, picking up his mail with unseeing eyes, going back to the couch and curling up inside puddled warmth. He hasn't been this cold in a long time.

The topmost piece of mail is a neon pink flier, like something out of his college days, and he looks down at it in confusion before his eyes widen. It's an open house, some apartment complex trying to fill out their spaces, only it's not just some apartment complex. It's his. It's his and Jimin's, that place he'd left because he couldn't take the memories anymore, and his unit is one of the ones that's available.

He could go and look at it now, if he wanted to.

Before he can think it through, or object in his mind, he's up and jamming his shoes on, keys in his hand, striding out into the sunny day. There are clouds on the horizon, but they're far away, and Yoongi doesn't care.

Jimin's not sure why he's at their old apartment. When he'd seen the flier his first instinct had been to throw it away. It was the past, and Yoongi was the past, and he hadn't seen the place in years. Yoongi thought he was a slut who fucked people in hotel rooms to feel adored, and he didn't want anyone to know he'd been one of them. He thought Jimin was shameful.

Jimin looks down at the magazine in his hands, at Yoongi's familiar face. At the words that say he would try again, in a heartbeat.

Why would he say that? When had he said that? Jimin's interview had been after they'd had sex. Was Yoongi's before? Did he still feel that way now?

Jimin hates this uncertainty, and whenever he'd been uncertain in school he'd always come here. Yoongi had been his place of certainty, well before they'd been in love. He was steady. Serious. Always the same, in a way that was equally infuriating and comforting. Jimin had never had to guess at him. It took Yoongi a long time to get somewhere, but once he was there he never moved.

He was so easy to love, but he'd said he'd never been in love again.

Eventually Jimin stops staring at the front door and goes through it, because it's open like they said it would be, and he climbs all of the stairs to the top floor like he used to, more out of breath than he was when he was younger, and he pushes open the door to the past like it's nothing at all.

He doesn't know why he's surprised when Yoongi is there, standing at Jimin's favorite window where the rain beat down in the most satisfying of sounds, but he is.

And Yoongi's clearly surprised to see him, too, based on the way he spins around. His mouth drops open, like Jimin's a ghost, and there's no one there but the two of them.

"Hi," says Jimin.

"Hey," says Yoongi.

They don't say anything else, and Jimin's eyes water when he sees what Yoongi's wearing. That old hoodie. The thing he'd missed almost as much as Yoongi himself, in those early days. He wonders if it still smells like Yoongi, if it still feels like being held by him. It probably does. It always had.

"I, uh, they said there was an open house, and I was curious," says Yoongi, looking around him vaguely. He adds, muttering, "I'm not sure why it's furnished."

But Jimin's not at all interested in that. "I read the article," he says, holding up the magazine. "What you said. When did you… was it before?"

"It was after," says Yoongi quietly. "It doesn't matter. It's whenever. It's always."

Jimin tears spill down his cheeks, and he's still such a baby, he's such a fucking kid after all of this growing up, and Yoongi's looking at him like he's something worth looking at. Like he still adores him, just a little.

"But you left," says Jimin. "You walked out. Why did you go, if it's always? I swear I'm not a slut."

Yoongi flinches. "I know. Jesus, I know. I'm sorry. But you're happy without me. You like your life without me in it, and I didn't want to fuck that up. I don't want to fuck that up."

"I'm miserable without you," says Jimin, crying harder. "Why didn't you say that you love me? I'm so lonely, Yoongi. I've been looking for you again for years, someone like you, but there's no one like you. And I'm so different and how can you possibly care about me now? You don't even know me."

"I know you, Jimin," says Yoongi gently. "I don't have to talk to you every day to know you. I see the shape of you everywhere. You could never change so much that I wouldn't know you."

That stops them, like a photograph, and they stare at each other for awhile. Jimin wipes his face with his sleeve, and Yoongi watches him so closely, and the stopped world is waiting for something from them. Some signal, that says it's okay to move again.

"Can you give me a hug?" asks Jimin pathetically, and Yoongi smiles.

"Sure," he says, and he's across the room, and Jimin's in his shoulder, perfect and safe, and they're exactly where they've always been but they're so different. They're both different, and older, and Jimin thinks he's ready for this. He thinks he doesn't want to change quite so much anymore.

"That's my hoodie," Jimin says, sniffing a little. "You said it was mine."

"It is," says Yoongi. "Do you want it back?"

Jimin doesn't wait before he tugs the fabric off, and Yoongi has a shirt on underneath but it comes up too, and Jimin's hands brush bare skin, and Yoongi makes a noise that Jimin likes. He wants to hear the noise again, so he kisses him as soon as the hoodie clears his face. He kisses him through Yoongi's surprise, and Jimin knows he's gross and snotty but he doesn't care.

"I'm so mad at you," he says, hiccuping a little.

"I'm sorry," says Yoongi, his mouth moving to Jimin's ear. "How can I make it better?"

"Dye your hair," says Jimin. "Blonde."

"Okay," says Yoongi without hesitation.

"I'm just kidding," says Jimin. "You don't have to do anything but this. Just be with me. Be patient with me."

"I don't have to be patient with you," says Yoongi. "I've been waiting for you to come back for years. I never stopped. I still go to that damn coffeeshop every once in awhile, on Tuesday afternoons, hoping you'll show up."

"I did show up that first week," admits Jimin. "I couldn't go in. I watched you through the window and my heart was broken and I didn't think I could ever fix it if I talked to you again. I didn't think it was good for me. For us."

"You were probably right," says Yoongi. "But I kept hoping anyway."

Jimin sniffs again. "I'm sorry I'm all disgusting right now."

"You're never disgusting," says Yoongi, kissing him again, touching his cheeks with his hands. He breathes in, deeply. "I want to dye my hair. I'm ready to try some new things with you, I think. If you'll let me."

"Okay. You'll be super-hot, I think," says Jimin. "But I don't want to go to clubs anymore. I'm ready for a few more early bedtimes in my life. I'm bad at taking care of myself without you."

"Good," says Yoongi, smiling sheepishly. "Because, hotel sex aside, I'm not really all that different than I used to be."

"I'm glad," says Jimin, secret and small. "I loved you just like this. I love you just like this."

Yoongi's eyes light up, and Jimin's stomach clenches. This is the happy Yoongi that had only ever been for him. The one he'd never thought he'd see again. Yoongi strokes his face as he says, "Think you still want to get married someday?"

"Maybe. If I find the right guy," says Jimin wetly, and Yoongi growls and kisses him, and they're so close they're like one being, and Jimin doesn't ever want to let him go.

When thunder rolls across them, Yoongi finally detaches from Jimin, swiping a thumb over his kiss-swollen lips and looking around him in confusion. "When did we get on the couch? This isn't even my couch."

Jimin smiles up at him, soft and a little sleepy. He's wearing the hoodie again, and it puddles around him like it always did. His hands are buried inside of its sleeves like he's a little kid, and Yoongi thinks it's the most precious thing he's ever seen. "Does it matter? I'll kiss you anywhere."

"Sounds good to me," says Yoongi. "But seriously. I thought this was some kind of open house. Why are we the only ones here? It's been hours."

Rain starts to fall, and Jimin looks at the window in delight, but his face is also a little curious. "I don't know."

"Wait," says Yoongi. "Why did you come here today? And don't say it was the cosmic destiny of the universe."

"I mean, it was," says Jimin. "But it was also a flier that was in my mail."

Yoongi's mind sharpens into a point. "Did Jin bring you your mail today?"

"Yes? He stopped by with his article. Had me read it. It made me cry."

"Sorry," says Yoongi, kissing him absently on the forehead. "No more crying because of me, okay? But that interfering motherfucker Jin, he's going to cry for sure."

"I don't get it."

"There is no open house," says Yoongi. "He invented it. He wanted us both to show up here today and fall in love again."

Jimin frowns. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Being in love with you is the best thing," says Yoongi. "Letting Jin win is a terrible thing. He's already smug enough. I bet he pitched that whole article just so he could interview us both."

"Probably," says Jimin. "But I'm not breaking up with you again so that he'll lose. Sorry."

"Thank god. No, we need a different revenge," says Yoongi thoughtfully.

"Wait, does that mean we're breaking and entering?" asks Jimin, sitting up and looking around. "Do those ladies still live here?"

"Oh my god," says Yoongi, standing up, yanking Jimin with him. "There was a key under the doormat, but I bet it was Jin's old one. Holy shit. We're going to get arrested."

Jimin giggles, and Yoongi laughs too after a minute. Before Yoongi can pull them to the door Jimin bats his eyes at him. "If we're going to get arrested anyway, can you make out with me over by the window for awhile? Where the rain is? I still think about you every time it rains."

The old Yoongi never would have. He'd already be down the stairs, terrified of trouble, of uncontrol, but this new Yoongi, the one who knows what it's like to not have Park Jimin look at him like he's created the entire world, is already nodding. "If you promise to make some noise for me, at least."

Jimin shakes his head, eyes shining, and when Yoongi kisses him again he sighs with happiness.

Later they sneak out, and no police stop them which is comforting. And in the middle of their make out Yoongi had been blessed with inspiration, so they both text Jin within minutes of each other, saying that they saw each other at an open house, and they had a huge fight, and they need to talk to him right away. That they don't know what to do because they hate each other, and they'll never be friends.

They hold hands as they walk to Jin's place, waiting for his response, stealing kisses like flirty teenagers while people stare at them. And eventually Yoongi gets a text that says he should call Namjoon, and Jimin's phone rings with Jin's handsome face plastered over the screen.

Jimin answers it with a deliberately wobbly voice, elbowing Yoongi when he can't stop a snort of laughter, and Jin's soothing voice pours through the speaker telling Jimin to come right over, and they'll talk it all through, and isn't Yoongi just a huge jerk. They both hear him muttering an aside to someone about the stupidity of stubborn people before coming back with syrupy, comforting tones that Jimin responds to with pathetic sniffs.

He's still talking when Yoongi knocks on the door, and he answers it, and Yoongi shoves him backwards into the wall.

"You called Jimin but pawned me off on Namjoon?" he says, loud and aggressive, but he's already smirking as Jin sputters and drops his phone. "What kind of fucking friend are you, anyway?"

Namjoon peeks his head around the corner, coat half-on, phone in his hand. "What's going on? Yoongi? I was just going to text you."

And Jimin kisses Yoongi, murmuring how hot he is when he gets all indignant, and Yoongi kisses him back, saying that Jin is the worst friend in all of existence and Jimin deserves better. Jin pouts from the ground, protesting his good intentions, and Namjoon soothes the pout away, trying to get him to admit that he deserved it, at least a little, and now they can finally triple date with Hoseok and Taehyung, and isn't that the nicest thing that's ever happened to anyone?

Yoongi disagrees, but he doesn't say anything, because he doesn't need to. Because Jimin already knows that the nicest thing that's ever happened is that a cute, shy kid with glasses and boundless enthusiasm came into his life and never really left, even while he was changing into the person he was supposed to become. And the nicest thing that ever will happen is that the person he became fits with Yoongi so perfectly that they'll never fall apart again.