Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

✦ PART ONE ✦

sanctify my body with pain

Jimin only needs to meet his gaze for more than three seconds, then slowly stretch his full lips into a faux-shy smile. And it's done. The man is his. It's something he's learned over the past few months, tired of living the life of a hermit and cloistered monk. Pick someone you like, who triggers even a vague sense of excitement, and frame him in your web of imperfections. Flirt just enough to let them know that you are a pleasant, non-committal person. You don't just want to get laid, you want to seek a connection, however feeble and brief. To be honest, Jimin knows that he has been acting like a whore lately. His best friend, Taehyung, calls it breakup and abstinence syndrome, or that sudden desire to seek out casual partners to best cushion the pain of a romantic breakup.

Jimin knows that his case is much more than this and is rooted in more agonizing pain than a trivial breakup, nevertheless he plays along and follows his instincts. A small part of him chose this to therapy, preferring to search spasmodically for a connection in the hope that it will make him forget the previous connection.

"I want you so bad," he whispers on his lips between kisses. Jimin smiles without pulling his lips away.

"Oh, yeah?" the boy nods and Jimin backs into the narrow hallway leading to his apartment, stumbling and laughing, intoxicated by the boy's kisses and hands on him. When he feels his back rest on the front door, Jimin turns to type in the entry code, chuckles when the other leaves a trail of wet kisses on his neck and makes typing the code that much more complicated.

"Do you want to take a shower first?" he asks him as he opens the apartment door.

"Only if you do it with me," the other replies. Jimin turns back to him and throws himself on his lips, his hands on his neck, and with his feet opens the door wide. He continues to kiss him aggressively and hungrily, there is no trace of gentleness and sweetness in the way the two boys devour each other's mouths, lick each other's tongues.

The apartment is in the dark, Jimin briefly wonders if he managed to get everything sorted out that morning before he left or if it's just as messy as usual. He likes the dark, likes the idea of not seeing that hands and mouth on himself to concentrate, straining says a voice in his head, just on touch.

But Min-ho, the boy who is rubbing against him, doesn't like the dark. So he reaches for the switch and turns on the light.

"Oh, shit!", Min-ho's eyes go wide and he jerks startled. The impact with the light does not please Jimin either, who squints his eyes for a fragment of a second to get used to it, but the boy's reaction is definitely over the top. He breaks away from Jimin suddenly and looks over his shoulder. Jimin turns slowly, follows the trajectory of his gaze and ... freezes.

"What the fuck," Min-ho exclaims.

They are not alone.

In the center of the apartment, in the small, bare, cluttered living room, are three people. Three young men who are staring at Jimin and his friend with impassive expressions. No, not impassive. Perhaps bored, definitely a little threatening. Sitting in Jimin's worn-out old armchair is a young man with raven-black hair, cat-like eyes, and the posture of a king. On either side of the armchair, like bodyguards with perfect posture, are two boys. One is long-limbed with a sculpted profile, the other is muscular with bare arms covered in tattoos. All three are wearing smart black suits that give them a more adult air. He had never thought about the idea of seeing them again. Not here, at least. Not anywhere else.

"What the fuck are you doing here?", Jimin hisses through clenched teeth, any trace of warmth now washed away. Min-ho immediately turns to stare at the open-mouthed boy, shocked by Jimin's total lack of surprise. "Do-do you know them?" he asks confused.

"Hello to you too, Jimin," greets the boy in the chair, his voice low and deep, his elbows resting on his legs as if he were completely at ease in the situation.

Jimin looks at him without saying anything, as if no one else matters in that room. But the intensity of his gaze is tainted with anger. He is not at all happy to see him.

"What-what's going on, Jimin?", Min-ho reaches out an arm to brush Jimin's shoulder, as if seeking reassurance in all the confusion.

But Jimin ignores him, his eyes still on the raven-black hair man. "Get out of my house now," he raises his voice in a firm, chilling tone. The hardened muscles in his face, one hand pointing to the door and the other closing in a fist trembling with rage - none of this seems to have any effect on the mysterious guests.

"Jimin?" frets Min-ho. "Do you want me to call the-"

"I need to talk to you," says the voice of the man sitting on the armchair. Slowly, he turns to observe Min-ho, still impassive. "Alone."

"No," Jimin shakes his head vigorously and takes a step toward the living room. "I'm not talking to you.”

"Minie," the long-bodied boy calls him with a hint of softness in his voice. Jimin turns to look at him with the same angry frown.

"I'm serious, Hoseok," he snaps. "You must leave. Now."

"I told you. I have to talk to you," the man on the armchair repeats with the attitude of a king. 

That same attitude, cocky and relaxed, infuriates Jimin. "Fuck you, Yoongi."

Confused and bewildered, Min-ho takes courage and steps forward. "I don't understand-who are you? I'm calling the police now."

"To tell them what?", Yoongi scoffs. "That you came home and his husband caught you two fucking?"

Min-ho gasps and stumbles suddenly. He snaps his head toward Jimin, shocked. "Husband?"

Jimin lowers his head slightly, guiltily. "You-you have a husband?", Min-ho makes an hysterical sound.

"Ex-husband," Jimin corrects him, raising an eyebrow. The boy is embarrassed, irritated and disappointed all at once. 

"Did you sign the divorce papers for me too? Because I don't remember signing anything," Yoongi says in an arrogant and defiant tone.

Jimin is very familiar with that haughty expression, that defiant tone. He cannot stand it, his hands tickling with fury. He snaps forward. "What the fuck do you want? How dare you break into my house?" shouts Jimin ready to attack him.

"I-I think I have to go home," Min-ho's stammer stops him from jumping at Yoongi's jugular and forces him to calm down.

Jimin turns to the boy, mortified. "No-Min-ho, there's no need to-"

"Don't worry," Min-ho is already at the door, with the quickness of a mouse escaping from an embarrassing situation. "It's-it's better this way, I think I gotta go."

"I think so, too," Yoongi says. And before Jimin can stop him with a hand already ready to grab his arm, Min-ho hurriedly opens the door and vanishes in the blink of an eye.

The apartment immediately falls into a tense and nervous silence. Jimin remains with his body facing the front door from which Min-ho escaped, clenching his fists and breathing erratically, shaken by a quiver of almost irrepressible anger.

"Jimin," Yoongi calls him. It's that name - his name - spoken by that voice, that brings him to his senses. It hurts. For almost a year, Jimin had managed to forget that rough, sensual voice, capable of healing and hurting at the same time. The chills it inevitably caused him each time. Jimin turns sharply to face him, advances until he is only a few steps away from the small table that divides them. He hates that he is shaking while Yoongi still sits placid and quiet, as if he is not the least bit shaken by seeing him again after all that time.

"What the fuck do you want, huh? What are you thinking coming here without any warning?"

"Would you have let me come if I had warned you?"

Jimin is silent. He knows very well that he would not even answer a call from him; his number has been blocked for months.

"We have nothing to say to each other so-"

"Jimin, listen to us," goes the tattooed boy.

Jimin snaps his head toward him. "You shut up!", Jimin alternates his gaze on each of those present. "You all need to shut up and leave now."

"We would never have come if we didn't have to," the tattooed boy continues undaunted. Despite his mature and vaguely menacing appearance, he has the delicate features of a little boy and the most innocent big eyes Jimin has ever seen.

"What Jungkook is trying to say is that..." Hoseok leaves the sentence hanging. Of the three, he is evidently the one with the least swagger and defiance. Of the three, he is the one who looks most regretted at Jimin. "It's important."

"What? What is so important that you suddenly re-enter my life when I have been telling you constantly that I never want to see any of you again?"

"Jihun is back," Yoongi says abruptly.

A beat. Jimin seems confused. "Jihun your enemy? That Jihun?"

Yoongi nods. Jimin closes his mouth. All the anger that has fueled his energy so far suddenly drains away. The blush from agitation disappears to make way for the natural pallor of his face. All at once Jimin feels tired. He notices only at that moment the scar on Yoongi's eye. It is a small, irregular stripe across his left eye. His instinct, his damned, masochistic instinct, is telling him to reach out and brush against that wound on that perfect face, but at the same time another kind of instinct appears: survival. And it's telling him to run away and remember everything Yoongi stands for. He is a bad man; he cannot forget that.

"My men found out that he came back to Korea. And he has already started to cause me a lot of trouble.”

Yoongi tilts his head slightly like a predator and looks at Jimin with emptiness in his eyes. If he didn't know him so well, if he didn't recognize that flash of light that crosses his eyes, Jimin would think that Yoongi has completely erased him from his memory, as if they were two strangers. He wishes it were so, but he knows very well that what they were, what they went through together is not something that can be removed. He should know better, since to this day he still bears the wounds of it.

"What does that have to do with me?", Jimin sounds restless, he is terrified of finding out where the conversation will go.

"Don't be stupid Jimin," Yoongi grimaces in irritation and clicks his tongue. "He probably knows who you are. And he might use you to get to me."

"But-but we're not together anymore," Jimin stutters. He is in serious trouble now, he would badly need to drink and then collapse on the bed to forget this terrible evening.

"You're still my husband," Yoongi doesn't take his eyes off him. "No matter how much you go around saying otherwise," he adds with a note of mockery.

Hoseok clears his throat. "We had a problem with an exchange, we lost our cargo, and there was a collision with casualties."

"No, no. Stop," Jimin squints and instinctively brings his hands to his ears. "I don't want to fucking know anything. I don't care, I don't want to be involved. I don't care about your damn illegal dealings, did you forget it?"

"And we don't care what you want. You're in danger. You need protection," Jungkook adds annoyed.

"I just need you to leave!" shouts Jimin, his face is turning red with fury. Yoongi lets out a long sigh and nods to his two bodyguards who, without a word, walk away to leave. 

Jimin remains motionless as the two pass by him and does not turn around when Jungkook stops a few steps away from him and whispers. "We just want to protect you, hyung."

"Did you say that to Taehyung too?", Jimin spits venomously.

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something but Hoseok drags him away. The front door closes one more time. And another time silence envelops the apartment. Only now Jimin is alone with Yoongi and it's different. It's always different with him. The man is able to give off an aura of charm, charisma and terror just by his presence. No matter how small he is or how young he is, Min Yoongi shakes the ground under the feet of those in front of him, takes possession of the air around him and manipulates the atmosphere. Jimin has always been attracted to it, like a moth to light. And like a moth by the light he has been burned by it.

"You cut your hair," Yoongi notes out of the blue.

"You cut your face," Jimin replies coldly, not really expecting the other to respond. And indeed Yoongi sidesteps his comment, stares him in the eye and purses his lips.

"I want you to come with me," Yoongi says.

Jimin releases a nervous giggle. "Yeah, right." But Yoongi remains impassive and Jimin opens his mouth shocked. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"This is no joke, Jimin-ah." 

Jimin shakes his head. "Forget it."

Yoongi lowers his voice a shade, but does not relent in lowering his sharp gaze. "I can't sleep knowing that he could come at any moment and, god knows, do what to you."

"Your sleep is not my problem."

Yoongi grimaces. "Shit, Jimin. Stop throwing tantrums like a child and come to your senses."

"Maybe you forgot but I don't want anything to do with you."

Yoongi runs a hand through his dark hair, visibly annoyed. "I'm not here to listen to you insult me or complain," but he is certainly there to alter him. "I'm here to make sure you're safe. I already have too many things to think about, I can't have the thought of your safety as well."

"Yoongi," Jimin pronounces his name with a hint of acid on his tongue. "I told you more than a year ago. You don't even have to speak to me. You don't want to sign the divorce papers? Fine. Then you can't even talk to me," says the blond man trying not to break his own voice. "I'm not going to suddenly disrupt my life because some stupid trafficker is giving you trouble."

"You don't understand," Yoongi grits his teeth, impatient. "He could use you as my weakness. He could kill you."

Jimin feels a rush of chills of fear run down his spine. "You should have thought of that before lying to me, don't you think?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes as if to say 'here we go again'.

"Oh, no. You-" Jimin points a finger at him. "You don't get to come here and look bored. You're a fucking mob boss and I didn't know it," Jimin's furious voice breaks. "You lied to me. You broke my heart. You jeopardized everything," the boy continues. "You have no right to dictate now.”

"I know. But it doesn't change the fact that you are in danger now."

"I can take care of myself." Yoongi loses all trace of phlegm and rises from the chair in a rush. "Isn't there any fucking ounce of fear left in you? Aren't you scared?"

"I was more scared when I was with you," Jimin whispers. Yoongi looks away from him, finally Jimin has managed to hurt him. "I loved you and you lied to me for a good two years. You let me marry you and let me go with you," he's about to lose his voice, about to cry, the desire to control himself is fading rapidly. "How do you do that? How do you have the courage to look me in the eye again, huh?"

Silence takes over the room again, leaving Jimin's anger hanging in the air. Yoongi closes his eyes for a few seconds and lets out a long, loud sigh. Jimin can visibly see the full weight of a fatigue that shows no sign of letting go of him, his eyelids trembling slightly and his face more hollowed out than usual. He won't let that image soften him, but shit, that's still the man he irrationally loves.

"You could have taken your time."

“What?"

"All I would have needed was a little time and I would have shown you that nothing changes. I am still the same."

Jimin raises his hands to the sky, impatient. "You traffic in weapons! And drugs. People die because of you," Jimin shouts uncontrollably. "I thought you were just a stupid nightclub owner, but instead you're a damn criminal, Yoongi. You're right, you haven't changed. I'm the one who never really knew you."

Yoongi cushions the blow of those words, a vague flash of that night when everything ended for them.

"I'll tell you again. You can beat me if you want, yell in my face until you lose your voice. But you still remain in danger and I cannot lose you."

Jimin closes his eyes and only then notices how they are filled with tears that cannot come out. "You've already lost me, what difference does it make?" he whispers weakly and tiredly.

Yoongi's eyes trail over Jimin's face. What he would give to still have the right to caress his cheek and fill him with kisses until he smiles again. He used to have that right.

"So, what was his name?", Yoongi asks abruptly. Jimin does not need to ask him who he is talking about; he already knows that he is referring to the skit with Min-ho. "Wait, it doesn't matter. Could have been anyone, right? You were peaceful and serene for a moment and you thought the person standing closest to you was the source", Jimin remains silent without taking his eyes off him. Yoongi sketches a blank smile, which has no trace of amusement or happiness, only bitterness. "Trust me. I have been there".

I don't care, Jimin would like to tell him. I don't care what you feel. Not anymore.

"Who did that to you?", Jimin nods his chin at the scar on Yoongi's eye. In an instinctive gesture, the man brings a hand to his eye without really touching it, as if to cover it.

He is ashamed of it.

"Does it hurt?"

"Every day."

Jimin nods, his gaze hard and impenetrable. "Good," he pulls up with his nose, cold. "Now get the fuck out of my house."

Yoongi sighs and nods to himself, as if deep down he expected things to go exactly like this. "I'll leave Hoseok outside the door to stand guard," he raises a hand to stop Jimin already ready to protest. "That's not negotiable. Let me sleep, Jimin-ah. I can't do that if I don't know you're safe.”

"Did you make out with Lee Min-Ho?" exclaims Taehyung shocked.

"Shhh, keep your voice down," Jimin scolds him. The café bar is desolate as it is every early morning, but there is still someone who might hear them. Taehyung brings both hands to his mouth melodramatically, his piercing dark eyes so wide they resemble that of the mask in the movie Scream. "Holy shit, you just can't keep it in your pants, can you?" taunts Taehyung.

"Is it possible that out of everything I've told you, that's all you remember?"

"It's just my defense mechanism to avoid thinking oh fuck you saw Yoongi again."

Jimin lets go a heavy sigh as he looks at a blank spot in front of him. "I swear, just thinking about last night makes my skin crawl."

"So he said you're in danger?"

"I don't know whether to believe him. I don't trust him.”

Taehyung shrugs and takes a sip from his cup of ginger-lemon tea. "Maybe it was a bit of a desperate way to see you again? Though," Taehyung looks around, squinting suspiciously. "Did you say he left Hoseok to guard you all night?"

Jimin nods. "He was outside my door when I left this morning," Jimin crosses his arms and leans his back against the back of the chair. "It's probably still around here somewhere hiding."

"I liked Hoseok," Taehyung says with a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"Yeah, me too."

For a few seconds, both boys are lost in their heavy, nostalgic thoughts.

"So..." Taehyung begins, absentmindedly fiddling with his teacup. "You said he was there yesterday?"

Jimin notices how Taehyung has stopped looking at him, far too focused on observing the liquid in the small glass cup. He knows that maybe talking to Taehyung about it was not the best choice; he doesn't want him to dredge up the past too, but he is his best friend and he wouldn't know who else to talk to about it. After all, Taehyung is the only one who knows the truth.

"Yes."

Taehyung merely nods.

"He seemed fine," Jimin looks at him expecting some reaction that doesn't come. He knows that Taehyung, too, was hurt, though he never lets on. Sure, he didn't marry the guy he was dating, but that doesn't take away from the fact that his heart also broke when he found out who he really was and what he does in life.

"Okay," Taehyung says simply. "I don't care."

"Right."

"Remind me why we didn't report Yoongi and his Scooby Gang to the police?"

Jimin stiffens, a series of thoughts running through his head restless and overbearing. He immediately chases them away with a shrug. "You know why. He is still Yoongi. My Yoongi. I hope he suffers at least half as much as I did, but.. I can't report him to the police."

"So what are you going to do?"

Good question. "I'm not going to do a damn thing. I'll go to the studio today in the hope that Min-ho won't be there, to avoid having to justify yesterday's embarrassment," Jimin says blushing. "Aaaaargh," he groans aloud and brings his hands to his head. "I want to die."

Taehyung chuckles. "Don't we all, my friend?"

–––––––

He was a senior in college when he first met him. The stress of the last exams and the dread of his future - would he be able to get that internship at the academy of his dreams? - were eating him alive in the last few months. Jimin spent his days locked in his tiny, old apartment in a room that was borderline legal and very much like a closet, mainly studying and occasionally even eating, when Taehyung knocked exhaustedly on his door to remind him that he had to survive somehow in that difficult world. He was without money, but with a thousand fears. 

It had been Taehyung's idea to go out drinking and dancing. He was so exhausted from watching his friend feel sorry for himself looking for a foothold in the future that he had practically dressed him up like a whore - "your best style if you ask me!" - and had dragged him to a place they had never been before, but which Taehyung said was very famous among lovers of fun and good music.

The Agust D was certainly not like any other club: tucked away in the unsuspected Yongsan district, between a foreign embassy and a complex of celebrity buildings, the club was one of those places that was extremely restrained on the inside but incredibly extreme on the inside. Not that the show was any different from other clubs Jimin had frequented - music and drugs were there too - but the atmosphere was different. More elegant, more enigmatic. The club was silhouetted on two floors; from the second, wealthier people could look out from the small balcony to watch the dance floor downstairs, where strobe lights illuminated the sinuous bodies of the dancers.

Taehyung had begun jumping around enthusiastically, clapping for no reason, as soon as they had entered after an hour-long line in which Jimin had weighed all options to escape.

At the counter to order their drinks, they had toasted to that different evening, to their disastrous and uncertain lives and to that centuries-old friendship that would never be ruined by time and events. "And, above all, by no man!" toasted Taehyung with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"We don't even like the same people, you idiot."

Taehyung clicks his tongue. "That's because you like bad boys and I like good boys.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. "Your theory doesn't make sense."

Taehyung's is the oldest story in the world, never making much sense, however, the boy continues to support the most trivial and stupid assumption. "Jiminie, it's simple," Taehyung explains by putting an arm around his neck and bringing his lips close to his ear. "You are a puppy, so you find bad boys sexy. I'm a bad boy, so I find puppies sexy."

"But you still sleep with the stuffed animal I gave you seven years ago!"

"Yah, what about that?"

Jimin laughs at his friend's melodramatic expression. He can't get enough of him; Taehyung is one of the best things that ever happened to him. Being his friend was not always easy: the boy was capable of going from being very lively to being incredibly dull and sad in the span of a few minutes. His mood swings were no picnic, but they were always worth it. Jimin drew strength from his presence and would go to the ends of the earth for him. That was why he had agreed to go to that club and why he had finally let go and dragged Taehyung onto the dance floor.

Min Yoongi was pretty sure that that evening would turn out to be as boring as any other. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, because if no one from his family arrived with wrinkled expressions to interrupt his lonely pout, it meant that nothing serious had happened and his business was going great. The Agust D was clearly one of his best covers. When you are one of the most feared mob bosses in Seoul, you need a place that is your personal arena of play, a place that can represent your status quo and at the same time give the rest of the world a semblance of legality and normalcy.

He was on his third glass of fine whiskey, one that only he and Namjoon could drink without vomiting his soul, when Hoseok had joined him on the balcony.

"Quiet evening, Namjoon wrote that everything went as planned."

With his elbows resting on the balcony railing, hands joined slightly and looking boredly at the crowd below him, Yoongi nodded.

“Good."

Hoseok remains there by his side, not saying or doing anything, although his desire to speak is palpable in the air.

"What is it?" asks Yoongi, bored.

"Nothing", Yoongi doesn't believe him so he raises an eyebrow and looks at him insistently until Hoseok relents.

"Okay. You can relax once in a while, you know?", Hoseok sighs. "How long has it been since you got laid? Find someone you like, relax a little, release some tension."

"I'm not tense," Yoongi deadpans. 

"Yeah, sure," the other replies sarcastically. "Okay, do whatever you want, but think about it. A little distraction now and then wouldn't hurt. In fact, I'm pretty sure that-"

At that moment, Yoongi's eyes linger on him for the first time. There is no specific reason why it happens, but he cannot look away. Hoseok's voice becomes only a distant buzz, the music a muffled rumble. Yoongi sees that boy make his way through the crowd and start dancing with his eyes closed. Everyone seems to be moving the same way on the dance floor, letting the music guide them, but not him. He drives the music, not the other way around. The impression is that it's the movements of his body, soft and sinuous, that dominate the music, that manage and control it. It's a vision from which it is impossible to tear one's eyes away.

The boy is so engrossed in the music that he does not even notice how his hands annoyingly strike the other dancers. Yoongi finds himself giggling in surprise. He is not awkward at all, and yet there is something ridiculously adorable about the way he moves without any rules.

"Why are you laughing?", Hoseok brings him back down to earth again, his eyebrows furrowed in a confused expression. Yoongi looks away from the boy on the dance floor.

"Nothing," he cuts him short.

Finally, Yoongi thinks he has found something to light his gaze.

Jimin makes his way through the crowd, sweaty and out of breath, toward the bar counter. Only after he orders his drink with ice does he notice a presence at his side, staring at him insistently. He lets out a long sigh, then says, "No."

"No, what?" says the low, deep voice.

Jimin turns around by swiveling his stool and takes his first glance at the boy who has stopped beside him. He is an attractive guy, but nothing exceptional, although he has the most magnetic eyes he has ever seen. "No, I don't want to dance," he raises a finger of his hand to list. "No, I don't want to give you my number. No, I am not an angel fallen from heaven. And finally, no, I don't want to go somewhere to get to know each other better."

Yoongi smirks, he remains silent for a moment, but does not back down. "I was thinking of asking you to marry me, you didn't say no to that, right?"

Jimin looks at him wordlessly, completely taken aback. To tell the truth, everyone who hit on him at some point desisted in the face of Jimin's arrogance or rejection, thinking he wasn't that worth playing along with. It had never happened to him before to meet someone who...

"So? Is it a yes or a no?" asks Yoongi.

Jimin decides to play along and grins. "Do you also want children?"

Yoongi's lips twiches. "Lots of them."

“Quantify."

Yoongi pretends to think about it. "At least seven."

Jimin squints his eyes, suspicious. “You’ll raise them, will you? I'm very busy, I can play with them at night and put them to sleep, but during the day you'll have to take care of them."

"That's perfect. I'm free during the day."

Jimin puts his elbow on the counter and rests one cheek on his palm. He peers more closely at Yoongi's face, the thin lips, the strangely elegant dress for a mere frequenter of that establishment. Without thinking, he bites his lower lip to hold back a silly smile.

"What about the ring? It's important to me that it's flashy."

"No problem. I'll pick one that sparkles as much as your eyes." Shit, he really knows how to do his job, Jimin thinks. What a pleasant turn in the evening.

Jimin grabs his forgotten drink on the counter and takes a sip without ever breaking eye contact. "And what should I call the father of my children?"

The boy with magnetic eyes smiles. "I'm Yoongi. Min Yoongi."

–––––––

The rest of the day flies by in its usual reassuring routine. Jimin reaches the academy where he works as a dancer for a prestigious company and does not allow himself to be distracted for even a few moments by unpleasant thoughts. Min-ho didn't show up for rehearsal, and Jimin thinks it's for the best because he really wouldn't have known how to justify last night's embarrassing course of events. No one knows about Yoongi, because he joined the group just under a year ago, when they had broken up by then. And no one must know about him, because it would be really complicated and painful for Jimin to come up with the right excuses to avoid the subject. Even his parents, still worried about their breakup, have no idea why it happened. Jimin simply stammered through tears something that had to do with misunderstandings and personal differences. But the truth is that his mother is convinced that Yoongi betrayed him.
And perhaps, in a way, she is right. The love of his life has betrayed his trust, and all Jimin is left with is a broken heart and a wedding ring on his finger.

Thinking about it now, after managing to avoid those distressing thoughts for months, is pointless and dangerous. So he focuses on the rehearsal, on the music that has been chosen for the upcoming music show to be held in Seoul in a few months. Hip-hop, R&B, the music alternates as well as the style of the dancers. Time passes.

When the rehearsal ends and his body is quite sore, Jimin grabs his duffle bag, declines some friends' invitation for a group drink, and decides to go home, wondering as he strolls along if he has enough ingredients to cook himself a decent dinner. He may have to order takeout. 

Jimin is with his eyes on his phone when he steps out of the elevator of his apartment building. He reaches the door of his apartment and only remembers at that instant that there is no sign of Hoseok. Jimin looks around wondering if Yoongi's famous protection is so short-lived or if the boy has finally realized how ridiculous and desperate his attempt was. Either way, Hoseok is not standing at his door guarding him with those adorable little cheeks that Jimin loved to scramble when he smiled. Hoseok is no longer there, but on the other hand ... the door to his apartment is open.

Only slightly, just enough to give the illusion that it is closed, but when Jimin pushes it away with one hand the door opens free. Has Hoseok entered his apartment again?

Jimin grits his teeth and prepares to yell at him, then hurriedly enters the apartment and without a care in the world that the lights are off in the living room - why would Hoseok enter his apartment and stay with the lights off? - he throws his duffel bag on the floor and follows the only trace of dim light coming from the kitchen.

He is about to shout the worst insults when someone grabs him by the shoulders and covers his mouth with a leather-gloved hand. Danger, you are in danger, shouts an alarmed voice in his head.

Jimin suddenly freezes and, after realizing what is happening, begins to thrash around like a caged animal. It's a matter of instinct, someone is squeezing him tightly, and Jimin cannot get free. He tries to kick, but all he achieves is to be thrown to the ground. The impact with the floor hurts, the fall is cushioned by his aching side, the sound of shattering glass echoes through the room. Jimin looks up to get a better look at the person in front of him. It's a stocky man dressed in shabby clothes, who is staring at him with a slimy smile on his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What's going on?

"Take it easy, sweetheart," Jimin tries to back away by dragging himself, but the weight in his chest, a sudden, agonizing fear, makes him tremble. It doesn't help that the man has creepy gold teeth and obsessively inhumes his lips staring at Jimin as if he were his prey.

"If you don't resist, I swear I won't hurt you," the man says as a grimace of disgust distorts Jimin's face.

"Who-the-fuck are you? Wh-what do you want from me?" stammers Jimin.

The man grabs one of the kitchen knives on the shelf and without answering towers over Jimin with his figure. The boy tries to escape in vain, clamoring for help, but the man blocks him with unprecedented force, trapping him between his legs and bringing the knife closer to his throat. Disgust rises in Jimin's chest in the form of a helpless retch of vomit. He is about to reject what little he has eaten at lunch, he is sure of it. 

“H-Help!", he screams, but his voice is an unintelligible wailing.

"I think I'll have some fun before I take you to the boss, huh? What do you say? I didn't think you were such a sight for sore eyes," murmurs the lascivious man.

Jimin feels tears of anger and fear fill his eyes and slide ungratefully down his temples, his throat burning from the unheard screams. "Help," Jimin sobs, shaking his head. 

"No wonder Min Yoongi chose you as his whore," spits the man and then licks his lips again with his tongue. "You can't say he doesn't have good taste."

"Ple-please," sobs Jimin terrified.

"Yes, that's right. Ple-please," the man sniffs and mocks him.

One hand grips the knife on his throat, inches from his skin, while the other hand moves slimy and hasty along his body. It's that touch that hurts the most. The idea that his skin is being branded without consent by the hands of a disgusting being, the idea of being so helpless and defenseless. Jimin cannot accept it. He desperately wants someone to come and interrupt that nightmare, but a part of him knows there is no hope. He is the only one who can save himself. He must survive, he does not know how, he does not know why, but he knows that he cannot let this happen by letting fear take over. At any cost, Jimin realizes that he must cling to his survival instincts. He has nothing: he has no one who can save him, no voice and no brute force. What does he have that can help him? His thoughts, those he can control.

The man rubs on him shamelessly, Jimin concentrates on his thoughts pushing away the idea of that touch on himself. But it is when that beast's grimy hands undo the belt of his pants - that loud click of metal echoing through the room twice as loud as it should - that Jimin finally acts acts on instincts, frightened and desperate. He turns his head sharply, bends an arm with a strength he didn't think he possessed, ignoring the pain, and stretches a hand over a sharp half of the broken glass lying around him on the floor.

And without thinking much about it, accompanying himself with an angry shout, he strikes.

Yoongi rubs his head and winces. The migraine is increasing despite the fact that he has already taken those stupid pills that Jin forces him to swallow every time the head twinges get more intense. 

"Are you listening to me, hyung?", Namjoon stands in front of his desk in the small office on the upper floor of August D.

"Yes, Namjoon-ah. It's not like if I don't look at you in that sullen face you have it means I'm not listening. Go ahead," Namjoon snorts at his boss's gruff and irritated tone, but decides to ignore it. "Jin's informants haven't found anything on him."

Yoongi's cell phone begins to vibrate noisily on the flat surface of the wooden desk. The boy rubs his face, annoyed, and closes Hoseok's call to stop the vibration.

Then he turns to Namjoon. "What is it? A ghost? That man has never been so good at hiding.”

Namjoon shrugs. "That's why I think there is someone who is helping him."

"The Jung?"

"Nah, they don't have the resources to start a war with us."

"Then who?" blurts out Yoongi nervously rubbing his fingertips on his temples.

"Are you okay, Yoongi?", Namjoon's tone is worried. 

"I haven't slept, that's all." Yoongi doesn't need to say why, Namjoon sighs perfectly aware of the reason. He has been intractable and nervous ever since he returned from Jimin's apartment.

Yoongi's cell phone returns to vibrate insistently; the man ignores it. "Send Jungkook to the Lees. Try to figure out what Jihun's plan is."

"That is, if he has one."

Yoongi frowns. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon shrugs, nonchalantly. "He's a psychopath, he always has been. We kicked him out of the family because he was out of control. He turned on us because he was an injured dog, but this time could be different. Maybe he just wants revenge."

"Yeah, maybe. But we can't underestimate him," he breathes out a bitter chuckle. "He screwed up our only shipment, Joon-ah. A man who has nothing to lose is the most dangerous man in the world, you know.”

Namjoon nods. "We'll take care of it, okay? You try to rest tonight. We'll find him," the younger declares in a reassuring tone. 

Yoongi's cell phone returns to vibrate incessantly. With an impatient snort, Yoongi grabs it and finally answers the call. "What Hoseok? What!", Yoongi shouts.

Namjoon recognizes the high-pitched, agitated murmur of his friend on the other end of the line. In the next few seconds, Kim Namjoon watches every trace of color disappear from Yoongi's face. The man pales and stiffens, shutting up completely, then jerks up, suddenly responsive. There is something frightened in the way he grabs the keys, keeping his eyes focused in front of him, his gaze losing clarity and firmness. Whatever Hoseok is saying to Yoongi falls back on him like a cold shower. This is how Namjoon realizes, without knowing anything, that something must have happened to Jimin.

Hoseok greets them at the entrance with a distraught expression and his hands raised in surrender. Yoongi, followed by Namjoon and Jungkook, shoves him away abruptly, without seeing him, without hearing him. His head booms painfully at the sound of Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

"I-I had seen a suspicious car parked in front of the apartment," Hoseok is justifying himself. "I'm sorry, I thought I-I didn't know he was back," the man stammers gesturing. Namjoon and Jungkook look at him confused and worried. They are afraid to ask what happened.

"Where is he?" asks Jungkook.

"He's been standing there for an hour, he won't answer me, I didn't know what to do," Hoseok shakes his head. "There's so much blood." 

Namjoon and Jungkook exchange an alarmed glance and catch up with Yoongi, who has already dashed into the kitchen.

And fuck, he was not prepared for what his eyes showed him at that moment.
On the floor of the small kitchen is the lifeless body of a man, a man Yoongi does not recognize, completely surrounded by a pool of blood. From the way the blood seems to have painted even the refrigerator and the walls around it, Yoongi's brain automatically registers the type of attack: he was stabbed in the jugular. 

A few steps away from the bloody corpse, sitting on the ground completely drenched in blood, Jimin is still clutching that piece of glass with which he struck his attacker, his eyes pointing into the void, totally blank. If he were not breathing, he would look dead. Drops of crimson red color his pale, trance-like face.

"I've been trying to get him to let go of that piece of glass, but he seems to be unconscious," Hoseok explains, staying on the threshold near Namjoon and Jungkook, who gasp in shock at the scene. "Shit."

"Hyung," exclaims Jungkook upset.

"He must be in shock.”

Slowly, Yoongi lowers himself by resting his elbows on his knees and approaching Jimin in an attempt not to frighten him. "Jimin-ah," he says softly. "It's me."

The young man does not react. "Give this to me," Yoongi stretches out a hand toward the piece of glass that Jimin still clutches overwhelmingly in his hand. He is hurting himself, a trickle of blood runs down his palm, but Jimin doesn't seem to notice.

"It's okay, Jimin-ah. Just focus on my voice, okay?", Yoongi's tone is uncharacteristically warm and low, and Jimin finally seems to awaken from the eerie trance-like state in which he has taken refuge.

A faint whisper. "Yoongi?"

Yoongi, Jimin thinks. He is there, he has arrived. He is there. Jimin suddenly feels all the blood flowing back around his body, the voices become more solid, his senses regain concreteness. He looks up at the man in front of him. He rarely had moments of total realization like this, Jimin had always believed were a melodrama thing, the moment when you look up and the face of the person in front of you seems to make sense of all things in the world.

Yoongi is looking at him slightly concerned but, as usual, never too much to let on what he is really feeling.

"Can you give me that?", Yoongi tells him as he slowly brings his hand closer to Jimin's bloody one. His gesture is cautious, he doesn't want to scare him so before he pulls out the sharp weapon, Yoongi caresses the back of his hand and wraps it around. "It's okay," he repeats in a whisper. 

Jimin gasps, but makes no sudden movements. Air reaches his lungs again. He is slowly regaining his sense of things, his contact with reality. The warmth of Yoongi's hand on his is real, firm, reassuring. When was the last time someone had touched him that way?

Yoongi is kneeling before him, his body entirely covering the corpse on the ground and becoming the only thing Jimin's eyes can focus on. He lightens his grip on the sharp piece of glass and drops it into Yoongi's hand, who promptly throws it to the ground, never taking his eyes off the other. "Can you stand up for me, Jimin-ah?”

"Jimin? Jiminie?" a voice at the entrance to the apartment cries out alarmed. Jimin gasps, Yoongi turns sharply to look at his team who have remained silent so far at the doorway.

"Who the fuck called him?", he snaps angry.

Hoseok makes a mortified face. "You didn't answer, I-he was there saying nothing, I thought...."

Taehyung enters the kitchen like a fury, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with rage. "What the fuck happened-Jimin?"
He, too, now in the doorway, petrifies at the scene. Taehyung makes a stunned face and in one leap runs to his best friend. He pushes Yoongi's body away, forced to step back, and cups Jimin's face between his big hands.

"Jiminie," he repeats as if in a chant. "Are you all right?", Jimin stiffens again. "Why aren't you talking?", Taehyung turns to look at the others. "What the fuck did you do to him, huh?" he shouts.

"He's in shock, don't shake him," Jungkook says.

"You shut up," Taehyung points a finger at him, then shifts his gaze to Yoongi. "You, talk." Taehyung is frantic in his agitation, shouting and asking a thousand questions but not really expecting any answers, because his attention then turns totally back to Jimin and his discombobulated appearance. "Jiminie, look at me," he tells him. "I'm Taehyung. I'm here."

Jimin finally moves his head to face his friend. And at that moment, the boy finally comes back to life, something in his chest shakes him, his body is caught in spasms.

And he begins to cry. At first it's a sob and a few lonely tears on his cheek. Then the tears become a river and the sobs become hysterical, suffering crying. Taehyung hugs Jimin and begins to caress his head, spasmodically whispering to him that there is nothing to worry about, he is here, he is safe. Jimin allows himself to be cradled in his friend's arms, and it's at that point that the others realize that it is time to get out of that room and let Jimin have the right to suffer in silence.

"I told the others to come and take care of the corpse," Namjoon says, ending the long call with Jin. Yoongi is sitting in the same chair as the night before, but with a totally different weight on his shoulders and posture. Slumped and tired, the man keeps his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, full of thoughts. He has said nothing since Taehyung took Jimin to take a shower and then to rest in his room. Hours have passed, it's late at night now, but no one hints at leaving. They can't.

"Do we have any information about the man?" asks Hoseok.

Jungkook shakes his head. "He had no documents with him, but I sent his photos to our informants. They will let us know who he was shortly."

Jimin's door opens gently and Taehyung enters the living room, the room falls into silence and everyone turns to look at him. Yoongi also lifts his head and, for the first time in hours, speaks.

"How is he?”, his voice hoarse.

Taehyung reaches the small sofa separating him from the others and rests his hands in the soft fabric, squeezing it. His thick, wavy hair is disheveled, his tired eyes barely holding open.

"He's sleeping. I won't leave him alone, I'm sleeping with him tonight. I just came out to talk to you," Taehyung's voice is pure ice. For having such a sweet and gentle face, that boy can be an impossible stone to scratch. He would make an excellent mob boss, If he wasn't already a psychologist.

"Taehyung," Jungkook begins to say, but the other raises a hand to interrupt him immediately. 

"I don't want to hear you talk. Now listen carefully," Taehyung turns his gaze on Yoongi, burning with anger and disgust, and Yoongi understands him well. He knows that Taehyung has every right to address him as no one else would dare to do otherwise. Actually, Yoongi feels a perverse satisfaction at the idea of receiving all the blame for what happened, he knows he deserves it all. In a sense - indeed, in the only possible sense - Yoongi wants Taehyung to reiterate out loud how he is the only culprit in that whole affair, how he represents the primordial evil for Jimin. This will help him make it easier, help Yoongi distance himself from the boy he loves and ignite the fury that will fuel his revenge.

"I-" Taehyung hesitates, his voice suddenly uncertain. "I think that beast tried to rape him."

All the boys in the room gasp, except Yoongi. He doesn't move a muscle, as if he hasn't heard a single word. But of course, unfortunately, that is not the case.

"Did he tell you that?"

Taehyung shakes his head. "He had-he had the belt of his pants unfastened. I'm not a mind reader, but I'm a good therapist and that would also explain his shock reaction."

"Shit," comments Hoseok.

"Fuck," adds Namjoon. 

"Motherfucker," Jungkook concludes.

Taehyung shoots them a livid look. "Yeah, very eloquent."

Then he turns to Yoongi, still standing in the same position, his head evidently elsewhere, and Taehyung wonders if he understood what he just said. He cannot know that Yoongi is trying to calm himself in the only way the beast within knows how: he revives the man who attacked Jimin in his mind and kills him in the most creative ways. He tears him apart, tortures him, can't get enough again and again. The only evidence of what is going through his head are his hands clasped at the end of the armrests of the chair. He is squeezing them as if they were someone's neck.

Taehyung clears his throat to regain attention.

"Look, I don't care who you are, what the fuck you do in life or how dangerous it might me. If Jimin gets hurt, I will gouge your eyes out with my own hands and those eyes then swing them like dreamcatchers on my bed to sleep better at night. Do you understand?”

Jungkook scoffs, but lowers his gaze as soon as Taehyung turns to give him a dirty look. "Now tell me," the boy resumes. "What is your plan?"

"Taehyung," Yoongi warns him.

"No, no 'Taehyung,' Yoongi. This is serious, right? Someone tried to hurt Jimin because of you, so now tell me what the fuck your intentions are."

"You'd better not get involved," Yoongi cuts it short.

"That's not up for discussion, okay?" Taehyung searches his eyes for the others - clearly avoiding Jungkook's - and dwells on Namjoon and Hoseok. "I need to know what's on your minds. This is about Jimin."

"He's not wrong, hyung," Hoseok tells Yoongi. "It might help us convince him."

"Hoba-" goes Jungkook. "No."

"Convince him for what?" asks Taehyung, his eyes back on Yoongi.

The boss closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, releasing a sigh. "Hiding," he says. "Jihun might have allies everywhere in Seoul, so Jimin has to leave town for a while."

"We all do," Namjoon adds.

"Where would you plan to take him?" asks Taehyung, suspiciously.

"The beach house in Gangneung, near Jumunjin Beach," announces Yoongi.

Taehyung's eyes go wide. "You want to take him to your beach house? The one where you spent your fucking honeymoon?"

The thought makes Yoongi's head swirl for a few moments. "Yes."

"Oh God," Taehyung lets a bewildered snort escape. "He's going to fucking kill me."

"You have to convince him, Taehyung," Namjoon says. "He's in danger."

"And now so are you," Jungkook adds with a note of reproach in his voice.

Taehyung ignores him and remains silent, absentmindedly scratching his chin as he always does when thinking hard. Then he nods. "Okay. I'll persuade him."

"Thank you."

"Thank me when this is over and neither Jiminie nor I should have anything to do with any of you anymore."

Yoongi accuses the blow without blinking. He does not care about Taehyung's sharp words or the expressions of concern and sorrow that his men are addressing to him. All that matters is that Jimin, the traumatized and injured boy sleeping in the next room, is safe and sound. And he is willing to do anything to make sure that he is. Even if it means turning himself into the villain Jimin so despises.

–––––––

Jimin thinks that what he did was very stupid. Sleeping with a handsome stranger he met at a fancy club the night before? Not one of his best decisions. He had promised himself that after sex he would get dressed to run away from that apartment and take a cab home, but ... dear god. The sex had been exhausting. Jimin hadn't felt such pleasure in forever. Or maybe it had been too long since he had slept with someone so good that he had been intoxicated by the experience. The fact of the matter was that the idea of that boy's body enveloping him after reaching the height of pleasure had not seemed so bad to him, and given the exhaustion of the hours of kissing and moaning, he had foolishly allowed himself to be enveloped in sleep, closing his eyes. Just a few minutes, he had told himself. But that minute had become an entire night. And that night now, mid-morning with the light trying to pierce through his closed eyes, is falling on him like a boulder.

He hates to stay the next day. He never knows what to say, how to avoid that humiliating embarrassment of 'it was good, have a good life... what's your name?'

Jimin hates those moments, he made a mistake and now he has to pay the consequences. But Jimin remembers his name. Yoongi. He repeated it very often while they were fucking, which rarely happened to him. But he has a beautiful name, a name that forms perfectly and naturally on his lips. Okay, at best the guy is still sleeping, maybe he won't notice if he gets up slowly and sneaks out of his apartment. Yes, he will do that. But -- god how perfect his kisses were. Jimin doesn't think he's ever been kissed like that. Now he will open his eyes and slip right out of bed. Yes. Let's go. One... two ...

"Good morning."

Jimin jerks his eyes open. The first thing he sees is Yoongi's soft face, looking decidedly more innocent than the night before, that adorable nose he would gladly bite off. Jimin doesn't know what goes through his mind when he smiles. Yes, Jimin smiles. His lips, without his being able to stop them, stretch into a candid, relaxed smile.

And Yoongi is taken aback. To be honest, nothing about the previous night went as planned, that boy turned out to be totally unpredictable in his every move, in his every sentence. For the first time in a long time, Yoongi found himself struggling to get his way, whether because of an argument or their time in bed having sex. Nothing, absolutely nothing about Park Jimin - he remembers the name very well as if it had been branded with fire in his mind - is intuitable.

So maybe that's why Yoongi finds himself uttering the next words as if they were no big deal. As if he's not thinking.

"Are you free today?"

Jimin's sleepy face turns into a surprised grimace, eyes wide and mouth half-open. "Oh." 

Yoongi immediately regrets his question and gets out of bed, still half-naked, to dress himself. "Never mind, never mind." He is so embarrassed, what was he thinking? A good fuck with a beautiful guy and he's reduced like this? Hoseok is right, he needs to relax, he needs to get laid more often.

Jimin is quite sure that he is practicing spontaneous combustion. That definitely was not expected. So he doesn't think when he says, "No, I mean, I have to study today.”

Yoongi finishes buttoning his shirt, then looks impassively at Jimin and raises an eyebrow. "So?"

Jimin smiles again. "So ask me better."

Yoongi understands. He bites his lip to contain the excitement of the moment. The challenge. "When are you free today?" Fuck, is he really doing this? 

"After six o'clock," Jimin says, the red color crimsoning his cheeks from cockiness. 

"And what would you like to do after six o'clock?", Yoongi is sly. He's very good at keeping up with him, as if they are perfectly set on the same wavelength.

"I have to make sure that the father of my children is a good match."

Yoongi smirks. "So seven is good?"

Suddenly feeling comfortable in that struggle of words, Jimin gets up and sits on the bed, the sheets barely covering his legs. "We'll see."

"Then I'll go make breakfast," Yoongi says, walking to the door.

Jimin says nothing, just stares at him again as if he were a strange puzzle to solve. He is irresistible. This, Yoongi is beginning to understand. So, he arches a brow.

"What?" he asks him.

"I guess -- I just thought this was a one-night stand, that’s all".

"It was", Yoongi replies without missing a beat.

Jimin looks even more puzzled now. "Then what changed?"

Yoongi shrugs, with one foot already out of the room. "You smiled".

FROM: Minie [11:13 am]

SHIT SHIT SHIT. SOS Tae. S-fucking-OS.

FROM: Tae [11:13 am]

What? What? Should I call you? Do I pretend to be in the hospital? Was it that bad?

I thought you said it was hot as fuck.

FROM: Minie [11:13 am]

Butterfly. Fucking butterfly. HELP pls.

FROM: Tae [11:13 am]

What? Then run! I know butterflies scare the shit out of you BUT DO I REALLY NEED TO COME AND GET YOU? Just run from them

FROM: Minie [11:14 am]

I can’t.

FROM: Tae [11:14 am]

You can. Get out of the room and run, take the subway, there are no butterflies there

FROM: Minie [11:15 am]

Told you i fucking can’t, help

FROM: Tae [11:15 am]

Why? Where are these butterflies?

FROM: Minie [11:15 am]

IN MY FUCKING STOMACH

FROM: Tae [11:16 am]

Oh. 

FROM: Tae [11:16 am]

Shit.

–––––––

Yoongi opens the door of the beach house when it's early morning. Jimin is behind him, with a duffel bag on his shoulders and Taehyung always at his side, reassuring him and cheering him on with small gestures - a pat on the back, a handshake. They talked for quite a while, Jimin wrinkled his nose when his friend went into your-therapist-is-here-to-hear-you mode, but he let him help him, cried and vented all the fear and terror of that night.

Only two days passed, two days in which Jimin spoke and ate little, unnerved also by the constant presence of Yoongi's men in his apartment. Obviously he has been having nightmares and may be having them for quite a while yet, but Jimin focuses on one of the things he does best: putting up a wall of snark and sarcasm, a talent that has always served him well in hiding his wounds. 

Taehyung had to spend hours convincing him that the only solution was, unfortunately, to follow Yoongi's plan and hide away from Seoul. What was not easy was to accept that the place where he should hole up for a while -at least until they found that psychopath Jihun, Namjoon had explained to him - was Gangneung's seaside house. A place full of memories, wonderful memories of a time that no longer existed, and which were now mixed with feelings of pain and shame.

Moreover, what tortured him most was the thought of having to put his daily life - his job - on standby because of a stupid as well as dangerous gangster feud. He had nothing to do with it; he had run away from Yoongi so he wouldn't have to lead that life, yet he was still stuck in it. He just wanted to fucking dance. Rehearse, perform, hang out with Taehyung, and visit his parents in Busan from time to time in between. And now instead he found himself confined like an inmate in a stupendous prison, which, however, represented all the false and unconscious love he had tasted for a time with the man he loved.

When he set foot in the house, the first thing his eyes sought were the French doors in the living room overlooking the beach. Jimin always loved them, like tableaus vivants of the sea surrounding the house. A wide house, with white walls and furnishings, cream colored, silver, a few hints of indigo.

The image of those French doors inevitably brought him back to memories of his honeymoon. To the mornings spent gazing at the view with a steaming cup of tea in his hands and to the nights of passion when he had been fucked by Yoongi, crushed on those French doors. Jimin blushes suddenly and feels two eyes on him that pierce his face. Yoongi is looking at him with disarming intensity, and it is at that point that Jimin realizes they are thinking the same thing.

His hands on the glass, the short breath of his moans creating condensation, Yoongi's body crushing him behind him.

"Park Jimin!" shouts an excited voice interrupting his thoughts. Kim Seokjin, one of the oldest members of Yoongi's circle, makes his entrance from one of the rooms with an affable smile on his face and a cautious gait. He knows what has happened, and he has spent the last two days fixing up the house on his boss's orders so that Jimin would have all the necessary comforts. And now, Jin stops in front of Jimin.

"I'm happy to see you again," Jin hesitates. "But I'm very sorry about the situation."

Jimin looks at him impassively, creating an air of tension and anticipation in everyone present. Then he pushes Jin away with a shove and goes straight to one of the rooms in the house, slamming the door noisily.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head. Taehyung, with his two trolleys at his feet, shrugs, looking at Jin with an arrogant smirk. "What did you expect? A warm hug?"

"This is going to be a long adventure," Hoseok sighs, carrying the last few things into the house. 

"You just..." Taehyung points at all of them not knowing quite how to pose the question. "Stay away from him. Or me."

"It won't be easy, don't you think? The house is big, but not that big," replies Jungkook piqued. That is the effect Taehyung has on people. He irritates and bewitches them at the same time, he damned seducer.

"But you'll have your hands full, right? Like finding that bastard who's trying to hurt Minie?"

"It won't be that easy.”

"Ah, neither will he. Trust me," Taehyung nods his head toward the room where Jimin has locked himself in.

"Well, anyway, I'm cooking tonight," Jin tries to ease the tension with his accommodating attitude. "Is there anything in particular that you and Jimin would like to eat?"

Taehyung grins and points with his index finger at Yoongi. "Maybe his head?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes, twirls the car keys between his fingers, and leaves, locking himself in another of the bedrooms without a word.

As one can easily imagine, given the disastrous premise, dinner turns out to be one of the dumbest ideas that the ill-assorted group has ever had. Taehyung joins them in the kitchen, where they are all already at the table waiting to taste Jin's tasty soup, and shrugs, shaking his head. "He says he doesn't want to come out to eat."

"This is ridiculous," Jungkook scoffs. "He's acting like a baby."

Taehyung takes his place at the table and without waiting for anyone fills his plate. "It's not like I can force him.”

"Well, someone should," Jungkook replies.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. "Will you take care of it?"

Jin sighs loudly, casting a reproachful glance at Jungkook. "He is probably still upset by the situation, give him a break."

Yoongi avoids commenting, but from the way he grips his plate tightly, it's obvious that he doesn't like it. He well understands Jimin's distaste for them, for him. He has every right to but that wayward, spoiled behavior is not helpful and will only worsen his frayed nerves. Being so close to him, suddenly, after so many months, without being able to look at him, talk to him or touch him as he had always done, makes him intractable and lackluster. How can he concentrate on finding Jihun and handle his business when Jimin orbits around him avoiding him as if he were the devil himself?

Namjoon clears his throat. "Tomorrow we will personally take care of the new discharge. Jungkook meanwhile will go to the home of the man Jihun hired to attack Jimin. If we're lucky, we'll find some trace that connects him to him."

"Hyung, not now," Jungkook scolds him, casting a glance at Taehyung, who has meanwhile already reached the second bowl of soup.

"Oh, don't mind me," Taehyung says, swallowing. "Carry on with your Godfather meetings, I have such a short memory. Oh, and Jin-hyung, great soup. Now I see why you're a criminal, you make killer soup," the boy chuckles to himself at his own joke.

They all blink watching Taehyung completely speechless.

"Is he okay?" asks Hoseok to his friends.

"Yeah, he does that when he's nervous," replies Jungkook without ever taking his eyes off Taehyung.

He struggles falling asleep that night. Jimin keeps looking at the ceiling thinking and rethinking how unfair it is that out of the blue he can no longer attend the company's performance, can no longer continue that stupid horror series he was watching on Netflix every night on his couch. Right know, he would just like to shout and hit something and cry, not necessarily in that order.

Suddenly, Jimin feels his stomach growling. His mind has refused to eat with the others, but his body is beginning to show signs of failing. He gets up, feeling unsteady. He knows that house perfectly, it was even his for a while. So he knows full well that, if Jin hasn't touched the last shelf of the upper cabinet in the kitchen, there should still be snacks there that he left behind more than a year ago after his last weekend of relaxation with Yoongi. When they were still together.

When Jimin opens the door to his room, careful not to make any noise, the wall clock reads a quarter past midnight. Thanks to the French doors, the house is never completely dark as moonlight reflecting off the sea enters the house, always leaving a sense of calm and security. But what Jimin is not prepared for is to find Yoongi turned with his body to that very view, his wrinkled face lost in thought.

Jimin becomes paralyzed, a note of alarm ringing in his head. But he is too proud to be a coward now and go back to his room, so as if it were nothing, he crosses the living room and reaches the open kitchen. Even though his back is turned, he perfectly manages to intercept the moment when Yoongi notices his presence. At first, he says nothing, and Jimin is grateful for this because he just wouldn't know what to say. But, as always, Yoongi just can't bring himself to ignore him.

"If you are hungry, Jin left some food for you in the refrigerator."

Jimin ignores him and, without any grace, climbs onto the kitchen shelf and with one hand fumbles for his snacks.

"They are no longer there," Yoongi says. "Your snacks. They're not there anymore."

Irritated, Jimin climbs down from the shelf and faces Yoongi, who is suddenly too close to him. He glares at him.

"Wow, you really had to take everything away from me, huh?"

Okay, maybe he's being a little melodramatic but he's hungry, tired and in front of his ex-husband. And his favorite fucking snacks are apparently gone. Maybe he deserves some melodrama.

Yoongi clicks his tongue. "I told you, if you're hungry there's food in the fridge.”

"I'm not going to eat that." His treacherous stomach, however, grumbles in response.

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. "Jin made it for you. It's not very polite to throw food away."

"I don't mind."

"And yet you're hungry," Yoongi accuses him in a defiant tone, his voice low and his body tilted as if to approach Jimin. Wait a second before gritting your teeth and whispering, "So why aren't you fucking eating?"

Jimin lifts his chin. "I will starve if that means annoying you."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, impatient. "Just eat."

Jimin clenches his jaw and points a finger at Yoongi's chest. "Don't give me fucking orders."

"God, why is talking to you suddenly so difficult?" blurts out Yoongi as he rolls his eyes. Jimin takes this as the perfect signal to start yet another argument that will fuel his anger. By now it is the only way he knows how to communicate with Yoongi. The only way he feels in control of his emotions.

"Then don't talk to me. I don't want you to talk to me, okay? Mind your own business and go away," he hisses.

Yoongi shakes his head and sighs. "Stop throwing a tantrum; you are not twelve. We can't go on like this. That's not how it should go right now."

"Oh, then you tell me," Jimin snaps. His fury increases like a flame on gasoline. "How should it go? Because this is all so, so fucked up, Yoongi. My whole life was suddenly taken away from me, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, I just know you came back to ruin my life again and it's unbelievable. How do you do it? Please tell me, what-" Jimin starts panting. "What are you-" he tries regulating his breath without success. Wow, an unexpected panic attack. Perfect timing. Jimin's eyes go wide as he begins to gasp for air, making little choked sounds that prevent him from breathing regularly.

"Hey, hey," Yoongi is immediately close, his instinct is to rest his hands on Jimin's shoulders to make him feel the solidity of his presence. But they are not what they used to be, and that touch now only stings. Jimin pushes him away and continues to breathe raggedly.

"Just...", he hiccups, "D-don't touch me."

"Okay," Yoongi raises his hands, he looks concerned. "Just breathe, though, okay? Grab something and squeeze it, remember?"

Yes, Jimin remembers. Their personal way to control panic attacks: grab a solid object, focus on it until they calm down. Finally, Jimin obeys, grabs the first cup he finds on the kitchen counter and squeezes it with both hands, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, his breathing becomes regular again, the world no longer whirling. Then he swallows a lump in his throat and finally opens his eyes. Yoongi is still there.

"Is that better?"

No.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Jimin whispers, placing the cup back on the marble of the counter. 

Yoongi is already fed up with this. He knows that Jimin can be a real pain in the ass if he wants to and right now, although he has all the reasons in the world, Yoongi cannot afford it. They should at least pretend to be civil, right? Is that too much to ask? Maybe it is, because he has just realized that he is the real villain in Jimin's story.

"I'm going to kill him, you know that right?"

A wave of chills runs through Jimin's body. How did their conversations become steeped in blood and promises of death?

"What happened to you--Jihun, I will kill him. I swear no one will hurt you again, not because of me," Yoongi's tone is firm, solemn.

"You can't swear," Jimin grimaces. "You couldn't keep any of your promises, Yoongi. Why should this one be any different?"

"Because someone hurt you."

"You hurt me more."

Yoongi clenches his jaw, feels his throat tighten. What leaves him most appalled is not the words themselves, but the resigned way Jimin said them. Without dignifying him with another glance, Jimin turns and leaves the room sadly, returning to his bedroom with his stomach still grumbling. As soon as he sits on the bed, Jimin picks up his cell phone and, still caught up in the anger provoked by Yoongi's words, text to an unknown number.

Okay. I will help you.

After that he puts the cell phone back on the bedside table and tries to sleep.

He can't.

The next day, Taehyung pulls Jimin out of bed with his less than gentle manner and drags him for a walk on the beach. With his face swollen from sleep, Jimin is ready to protest and hide under the covers again, but his best friend knows how to be persistent, and what's more, he announces to him that the other tenants are all out doing chores. They can move about the house freely until they return. At that point Jimin can go back to taking refuge in his room and hatching all the anger and irritation in this world.

Now they are walking on the sand of the deserted beach, a few people are strolling relaxed, someone is running with earphones, someone else is playing with the dog. The sea in Jumunjin is calm, stable.

"What are we doing, Taehyung?", Jimin huddles in his black cardigan when a gust of wind makes him shiver. "I don't want to stay here."

"I know, Minie," Taehyung looks at the sea, not at his friend. "I don't like this situation either, I also don't like telling my patients that we won't be able to see each other for a while, but it's necessary, okay?"

Jimin feels like shit. His friend, who has nothing to do with this, and who is involved because of a simple association of relationships, is there to suffer the consequences of something he doesn't deserve. "I'm so sorry that you were also involved."

Taehyung shakes his head. "Even if I didn't know anything about this, I would still go with you, you know. It's offensive even for you to think otherwise," he scolds him. 

"I know, I would do the same for you though... that doesn't take away from the fact that it feels like torture."

"I know that he hurt you and that although it's been almost a year you obviously haven't gotten over it yet because, after all, how do you get over something like that? But maybe, Minie, at least for the moment you could try to deal with it differently?"

Jimin blinks slowly. "Like what?”

"I don't know, try to hold on to the simple things," Taehyung explains, finally turning to look at his friend. "Yoongi is a criminal, okay. All our friends are a gang of dangerous criminals. But criminals are around us every day, right? Our government, the old lady who always overcharges us at our favorite café because she figured out we're gay," Jimin arches an eyebrow and holds back a smirk. "They are all criminals," Taehyung concludes.

"Your reasoning is weak."

"I know, but I almost made you smile," Taehyung grins.

Jimin lowers his gaze, his feet sinking into the cold morning sand.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"What?" asks Taehyung.

"Jungkook," Jimin hesitates seeing how his friend's expression hardens. "Doesn't it bother you to have him around again?"

Taehyung searches for words, even though he is already sure he knows the answer to that question.

"Of course it bothers me. It makes my blood rise to my brain to be honest," he admits placidly. "But I guess it's different for me. Because we've been circling around each other for so long and he had finally found the courage to give in to my advances since just before you..." Taehyung releases a long sigh. "Before you found out the truth."

Jimin nods, thoughtful, processing his friend's words. 

"But does it hurt less?"

"No. It doesn't hurt less," Taehyung admits with a small, bitter smile. 

Jimin still thinks all this is unfair, but Taehyung's approach to things, his way of clinging to the simple and less serious or controversial things, makes him feel guilty about his way, instead, of always preparing for the worst, of viewing the world with distrust.

"Oh, they're back," Taehyung exclaims with his eyes turned over his shoulder. "But who is that?"

Jimin turns toward the house, and sees through the French doors a man, a boy who must be about their age, moving quietly in the living room while talking to someone on the phone. Jimin immediately stiffens, until Yoongi appears behind the boy's back and the two begin to talk seriously but calmly.

Jimin and Taehyung continue to watch the scene from a distance, like two curious and shameless peepers. Neither is particularly good at reading lips, nor are they close enough to perfectly delineate what the boy looks like together with Yoongi. Jimin wonders who the stranger is and why Yoongi has involved him in all this despite the dangers they are facing.

But then the answer comes as a slap in the face.

The boy raises a hand gently and, after a second's hesitation, brings his fingers close to the scar on Yoongi's eye, as if to caress it. Yoongi remains still, whispers something, but does not seem bothered by the gesture. From the gentleness with which the boy touches Yoongi's wound and the way he leans slightly toward his body, it is clear that they have an intimate relationship that goes beyond work.

"Whoa, the fuck?" whispers Taehyung shocked.

At first, there is a twinge of pain that grips his stomach. Jimin feels the blood drain from his body and his heart miss a beat. He does not want to see, yet he cannot look away from what is a crooked, wrong, incorrect image. Jimin hates himself, because he feels he wants to cry. Who is that complete stranger standing so close to his Yoongi? 

Then there is the anger. The truth is that Jimin would not want to feel what he is feeling, would not want to admit to himself that it is pure and sincere jealousy. But it is. Lying to others is one thing; lying to himself would have been insulting. Jimin left Yoongi because of what he does, because of all the lies he told and the truths he hid from him. But that doesn't mean he never loved him. That doesn't mean there isn't a part, irresponsible and irrational, that still loves him.

A series of thoughts run through Jimin's head: what was the need to bring that stranger there? Who is he and how long has Yoongi been letting another man touch him?

Jimin clenches his fists and continues to watch Yoongi and the boy talking around the house, through the French doors.

"Let's go inside," Taehyung says.

The first thing Jimin does as soon as he re-enters the apartment after his walk is to meet Yoongi's gaze. It is inevitable, two magnets who for better or worse seek each other out and then get stuck without or resistance.

"Oh," says the stranger next to Yoongi. "Park Jimin, nice to meet you. I'm Yi-jeong," the boy introduces himself politely. Jimin can finally get a better look at him: he is an attractive boy with particularly angular features and a slender physique. Jimin finds himself thinking about how different they are, what it is that has attracted Yoongi to him and whether he can forget about Jimin when another man touches him.

"Yi-jeong will stay here and keep watch during the day," Yoongi says simply.

"Why not Hoseok? Or Jin?", Jimin asks.

Yoongi looks at him bewildered. "Do you have a preference?"

Jimin shrugs. "I know them."

Even Taehyung looks at his friend puzzled. He does not know what game he is playing, because he is hard and impassive in expression, but he can try to guess. His friend has always been a little too competitive.

"Well, they'll be busy, so you can turn to Yi-jeong," Yoongi says with an edge of tension. "You can trust him."

"But I don't", Jimin bites venomously.

"And I don't care."

Yi-jeon, embarrassed, clears his throat. "I won't stand in your way," the boy says to Jimin, smiling shy. "I'm only here because Yoongi asked me to be."

"Yeah, I bet he did," whispers Jimin with a thread of sarcasm. Taehyung chokes on his friend's rudeness.

"Do you have anything else to say, Jimin?", Yoongi sounds annoyed. "Because if not, you can go back to your room to throw a tantrum and disappear for dinner.”

Wow, that stings, causing Jimin’s anger to grow. Of course, he’s hurting too, but he doesn't want to let it show. He can’t. So he crosses his arms, walks past Yoongi, and glares at Yi-jeong. “Just stay out of my way."

The fact is that if Yoongi says Jimin will do something, now more than ever he is sure that Jimin will do the exact opposite. Not because he is unpredictable, that exciting quality that Yoongi was so enamored with, but because he wants to challenge him. Jimin wants to annoy Yoongi, pinch his stomach, make him roll his eyes, and possibly wipe that unbreakable expression off his face.
So Jimin chose to have dinner with the others that night. He arrived at the table, much to the surprise of those present, and after noisily dragging the only free chair, he sat silently at Taehyung's side. Jin and Jungkook are the only ones present along with Yoongi and Yi-jeong, while the others apparently went back to Seoul for a few days to continue business. Jimin is tense, but he is lulled by the smell and taste of the delicious food - a soup with kimchi and vegetables.

"Thank you so much, Jin-hyung," Yi-jeong says, breaking the silence. "It's all delicious."

"No one ever resists my culinary skills, everyone knows that," Jin winks.

Yi-jeong chuckles and to Jimin, that laugh, feels like fingernails scratching glass. "Yeah, Yoongi hyung told me that."

Now, Jimin is no longer hungry at all. His stomach clenches in annoyance, his eyes remain fixed on his plate.

"Jimin has always liked my soups too, haven't you Jimin-ah?" asks Jin turning to him, hoping to engage him in conversation and earn that bright smile and compliments that used to be so easy to get.

Jimin's body grows tense. He simply hates this. This air of falsehood - because that's what it's all about - where everything is wrong. They are pretending what? That they are a group of quiet, carefree friends? Shit, he's trapped there because some lunatic wants to hurt him. Less than a week ago another criminal lunatic even tried to--Jimin clenches his jaw.

"You're wrong," he says sharply.

The air around them shifts, turning heavy as everyone goes silent. 

Jin blinks, then tries to lighten the situation again by giggling. "Are you telling me you've been lying to me all this time?"

Jimin finally lifts his head.

"Yeah, apparently you're not the only ones good at weaving a web of lies around."

"Jimin", Yoongi warns him.

Jimin turns his head sharply. "What? I can't even speak freely now? Does the truth really disgust you that much?"

Taehyung instinctively tries to calm him down, resting a hand on his knee. But Jimin doesn't even seem to notice, too busy casting defiant glances at Yoongi.

The elder shoots him a glare. "If you're here to ruin everyone's dinner, you might as well leave."

"Yoongi-" Jin tries to stop him to no avail.

"We already have too much trouble without you getting into it with your snide comments," Yoongi continues.

"Could we try to eat in silence maybe?" ventures Jungkook in an attempt to calm the situation after remaining silent so far.

Jimin breathes out a bitter chuckle. "All the trouble is because of you, Yoongi."

"Hey," Yi-Jeong interjects defensively. "Take it easy okay? Yoongi doesn't have-"

"You shut up," Jimin snaps at him.

Yoongi jerks up, everyone gasps in surprise. He glares at Jimin with sharp eyes. "How dare you address him like that? He is older than you," he thunders in a low, deep voice. He is trembling with rage.

The lightning bolts in Yoongi and Jimin's eyes are the only trace of liveliness in the sudden deafening silence. But Jimin has no fear in Yoongi's menacing air; he knows him too well, knows every inch of his body, every cell in his mind. Or rather, he thought he knew him. That thought hurts him like a punch in the stomach, once again he is forced to remind himself that Yoongi is not who he said he was.

"Now shut your mouth, please, and eat," he hisses.

How dare he? Jimin gets up from his chair abruptly, without taking his hard gaze off Yoongi. He grabs his plate and slowly, in front of everyone's tense gaze, spills its contents onto the floor. Taehyung makes a scandalous face, Jin and Jungkook squint in shock. Finally, Jimin sets the plate down, turns his back and goes back to his bedroom.

Yoongi remains standing, his fists clenched on the table, resting all his weight on them. Jungkook notices that he is trembling, so uncertainly he calls out to him. "Hyung?"

At that point, Yoongi lifts his head and quickly leaves the kitchen as well. Only he doesn't reach his room, but Jimin's. He doesn't slow down, doesn't knock. He simply jerks the door open and closes it behind him with a loud thump.

"What the fuck are you doing?" shouts Jimin. Yoongi locks up and turns to face the other. 

"Now we talk until we come to an agreement," he sentences without a chance to protest.

"Get out of my fucking room," Jimin shouts.

"No," says Yoongi dryly and harshly.

Jimin is sitting in the middle of the bed, with his back on the headboard. He clutches his knees and has his gaze fixed on Yoongi, although from the veil of sadness in his eyes, he is probably not really looking at him, lost in who knows what thought. He is so tired, the weight of the whole situation weighing down on his shoulders like a boulder, that he does not even have the strength to try to send him away.

Yoongi is studying him carefully. Jimin's throat feels tight, he does not dare to look at him. The anger has slipped away and now all he is left with is a sense of shame and helplessness, his limbs numb. But worst of all, Jimin feels guilty. He knows he has all the reasons in the world, but that doesn't take away from the fact that those restless and rude behaviors were never part of his nature. When did he turn into such a cruel person? You know when, says a voice in his head.

"Did you fuck him?", Jimin asks abruptly. Yoongi does not need to ask what he is talking about. He stays with his back to the door and continues to study him.

Then he answers. "Yes."

Jimin doesn't say anything.

"Does it bother you?"

"Yes."

Yoongi scoffs. "Why? You hate me."

"That doesn't mean I-I'm still your husband am I?"

"It didn't seem to bother you that much while you were making out with-what's his name? Ah, Min-ho," Yoongi remarks piqued. 

Jimin dismisses him with a wave of his hand. He has no voice to say anything else, because his pride forbids him to continue; they are already crossing a dangerous threshold. Are you with him? He wants to ask him, but he holds back. He doesn't care, he shouldn't care. Why don't you sign the divorce papers then?
The air in the room becomes thick with thought. Yoongi turns away from the door and sits at the foot of the bed, running a hand through his hair and rubbing his face, tired.

"Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?”

Jimin remains silent, blinking, processing, as if unsure why Yoongi was sitting there with him. He tightens his grip on his knees as if to protect himself, while Yoongi's gaze is lost in memories.

"You were jealous because you thought I was getting tired of you," he says.

"You disappeared for days, I had no idea where you were," Jimin whispers with a bunch in his throat. Yoongi nods and gives a small smile. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you the whole truth, that I had disappeared because there had been trouble with a shipment. There had even been a collision, and while I was there with the fear of finally getting killed, I thought of you. So I came back to tell you, because I might as well have confessed everything to you and begged you on your knees to love me anyway."

Jimin is quite shocked by that confession. He remembers that evening vividly, he remembers the anxiety of having no idea what had happened to Yoongi and the anger that had overwhelmed him as soon as he turned up again. That little truth that Yoongi was conceding to him now came like a bolt from the blue.

"But then you started to get pissed off, like you always do, and then I don't know how we got to that point but suddenly you ordered me to marry you," Jimin snorts, but Yoongi smiles faintly, as that memory is one of the most cherished. "And then my brain blacked out. Because I couldn't tell you, I couldn't-", Yoongi sighs, stops looking away and finds the courage to turn to Jimin. "I was too cowardly to tell you the truth. To lose you.”

"Are you saying it's my fault?"

"No. You are not to blame, Jimin."

Jimin shrugs. "On that at least we agree."

"But I kept hoping every day that you would notice something. But the truth is you were so wrapped up in yourself, in what our relationship gave you, that you never asked for anything," there is an edge of accusation in his voice that tickles Jimin's irritation again. He knows he's just trying to rile him up, but Jimin doesn't care. Yoongi is succeeding very well. 

"What should I have done, huh?"

"You could have listened to me. Tried to understand me. Instead you've always been so blind to your own certainties and fucking principles." 

"I was in love with you!", Jimin hisses in outrage at the accusation.

"So am I!", Yoongi screams, surely the others must have heard him in the rest of the house. Jimin gasps and opens his eyes wide. "I-I just needed to fuck you, you know? That night, the first night. You were so attractive, so seductive and innocent. And I was stressed. It was supposed to be just one night." Yoongi looks so lost as he searches for the right words to say, his eyes unfocused. Jimin is angry, because in spite of everything he cannot bear the sadness and anguish on Yoongi's face. His brain cannot conceive it, that face should just smile.

“Then what changed? Why didn't you let it be just one fucking night?”

“The morning after we slept together. Do you remember? You asked me the same thing”.

“Yeah and you told me…”

"You smiled," Yoongi nods, he looks so helpless. "You looked at me like I deserved it. I just knew I didn't have a choice anymore."

Jimin feels it's too late to push back the tears, so he lets them flow down his cheeks, silently.

"You left me no choice either, Yoongi."

The sharp-eyed, clever man nods. "I know." 

Rising from the bed, Jimin follows him with his gaze. "Don't blame the others. It's not their fault. In fact, they always hated me because they had to lie to you. They love you very much," Yoongi takes a few steps toward the door, Jimin feels his stomach tighten again from guilt. "When this is over you will never have to see us again, so please try not to make this harder than it already is.”

The nightmares that night are more tyrannical than usual. They pull him down, dragging him into a hellish loop from which Jimin cannot get out. He dreams of running along the rooms of his apartment, as if they were an endless, dead-end maze, pursued by a monstrous figure from whom he knows he cannot really escape. At the same time, Jimin feels awake, as if in a state of drowsiness in which his mind is totally enraptured by the nightmare, but his body thrashes sweatingly between the sheets. Jimin senses both and is unable to rise again. He is not even able to realize that his screams are real, as much as the images of that man chasing him instead are an illusion. His hands clutch the pillow, then drop down to chase away the sheets. Jimin gasps, calls for help with a high note of hysteria in his voice. Why does this have to happen to him? Why can't he escape? More importantly, why can't he save himself?

Worst of all, he realizes only when he is already standing that he is no longer in the dream, but he is awake, and despite this, the fear does not seem to disappear. His heart beats wildly, the darkness of the room is his enemy: every shape is monstrous, Jimin gasps and keeps screaming when his jacket resting on the chair seems to take the shape of that monstrous beast that wants to harm him. 

He throws himself at the door with all the weight of his body, jerks it open and without looking where he puts his feet slams into something or someone.

"Jimin!" shouts a voice near him, but the boy cannot define it, so with his eyes lost and blurred he backs away, his body, never so clumsy, still banging against the walls in an attempt to escape the hands that try to hold him down. "Jimin, stop!"

Taehyung? Jimin stumbles and falls to the ground, hiding his face with his hands.

"It's Taehyung," says the voice, now more solid, more concrete. Other voices call his name, the boy doesn't have the courage to open his eyes, but then the light suddenly comes on.

Finally, Jimin no longer feels the danger, his body is regaining control of the space.

Only when he finally stops panting and the shaking of his hands diminishes does Jimin allow himself to look around.

Everyone is there. Taehyung, Yoongi, Jin, Jungkook, and Yi-Jeong, in pajamas, their eyes swollen with sleep, are watching him worriedly. At that moment, Jimin realizes he is ashore in the living room of the beach house, far from Seoul and his nightmares. 

"I-I killed a man," he repeats in a chant, his voice hoarse and trembling. "I killed-", he begins to sob.

"Baby, you had a bad dream," Taehyung is telling him, and his voice is so sweet so careful, Jimin can't help but burst into tears.

"Here, give him this, to hold," Yoongi hands Taehyung a small table lamp, taken at random from one of the tables in the living room. Taehyung looks at Yoongi strangely, as if he has lost his mind, but finally decides not to ask any questions.

"Jiminie? Here, squeeze this, okay?" repeats Taehyung as he kneels down next to his friend, who, without hesitation, grabs the cold plastic of the small lamp and squeezes it in his hands. Second by second, Jimin's vision is no longer blurred and the boy begins to calm down.

"I-I'm sorry," he manages to whisper at the end. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Hey, Jimin-ah," Jin says, the reassuring tone similar to Taehyung's. "Would you like a cup of tea? How about I make it for everyone so we can sit here in the living room and have a sleepover?"

"Yeah, I can't sleep either," adds Jungkook lightly. "Is that okay with you, hyung?", Jungkook turns to Jimin, who looks at them all. He does not even have the strength to feel embarrassed; the echo of his nightmare is still vivid in his memory. Maybe it's a good idea to have a warm drink and some company for a while.

"Okay," he murmurs softly.

Yoongi exchanges a glance with Jin and nods, thanking him with lip service.

A few minutes later Jimin is on the sofa next to Taehyung, with a blanket over his legs, a steaming cup of ginger tea, and an expression of shame and embarrassment on his face. He hates to be grateful to those people, but that's how he feels now that the fear has slipped away. He doesn't want to go back to sleep and to beguile the wait, Taehyung has started babbling nonsense, asking ridiculous questions about the underworld of crime.

"No matching suits? Like expensive black ones? Tacky rings?"

Jin, of course, plays along. "We're not a boyband."

"So no clan logo tattoos?"

Jungkook scoffs at that. "You watch too many movies."

"No code names?"

The others shake their heads. Taehyung snorts. "But it's not funny at all."

"It's not funny," Yoongi adds confidently. "Most of us didn't even choose this life."

Jimin snaps his head up from the cup and focuses on Yoongi.

"You could have listened to me. Tried to understand me. Instead, you've always been so blind to your own certainties and bullshit principles."

Jimin can't get those words out of his head. The way Yoongi said them, as if there really is a secret world of unspoken that Jimin doesn't know yet. He suddenly feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask him things he knows he doesn't really want to know. Sure enough, there is surprise in his voice as he inadvertently opens his mouth to ask, "What do you mean?"

Yoongi crosses his gaze with such intensity that anyone would look away from those ancient, intelligent, expression-filled eyes. But not Jimin.

"Never mind.”

"He was forced to become what he became," Jungkook cuts in short. Yoongi gives him a dirty look but the other boy shrugs. "What? I just told the truth and I think they should know it too."

"What truth are you talking about?" interjects Taehyung.

"Yoongi is Min Hyun's youngest son. His father is himself the son of a generation of criminals born at the time of Japanese colonial rule. There's no escaping that stuff there," Jungkook says.

"Shut up, Jungkook," Yoongi hisses.

"He's right though," Jimin finds himself saying, torturing his lower lip in nervousness. "I-we have the right to know."

Yoongi shakes his head, uncertain. "There is nothing to know. My father was a criminal. His family before him. I am a criminal," Yoongi cuts in a rough tone. He has no desire to lay his cards on the table at that moment.

At that point, Jimin scoffs. "You are a coward. Again," he taunts him. The others flinch nervously as they sit in their seats, uncomfortable in that new situation. As much as his temperament is usually very even-tempered and almost nothing can dent his stoic expression, Jimin is one of the few people who make Yoongi lose his wits, who punctually gives in to his taunts.

"I'm listening to you," Jimin continues.

Yoongi points his gaze toward the French doors to his right, clearly fighting an internal war over how and what to say. Seconds pass and everyone seems pretty sure he won't say anything, when…

"I have a brother. An older brother."

Jimin gasps, surprised. "A brother?" 

Yoongi nods.

"You never told me that," Jimin pauses. "I guess that's another one of your omissions to add to the list," he whispers bitterly. The tea suddenly gives him no relief, its taste mingling with the acid in Jimin's saliva.

"What about him?" asks Taehyung. "Your brother."

"In my family, it's the eldest sons who inherit the honor or burden of carrying on the business," Yoongi explains. "It's always been that way."

"Like in a royal family?" Taehyung seems overly invested in the tale. "Firstborn becomes king, secondborn becomes Prince Harry of England?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes at the ridiculous comparison, but Yoongi nods slowly turned to Taehyung. "Yes, something like that," a half smile.

Jimin blinks, processing the information. "But if you are the second son, then why..." Jimin leaves the question hanging, confused.

"Is he dead?" asks Taehyung again in a dramatic tone.

"He didn't die," Jin interjected, clearly sensing his friend's difficulty in continuing the story. "Geum-jae was... not suitable for the role."

"Geum-jae," Jimin murmurs to himself savoring yet another piece of the indecipherable puzzle that is his husband's story. A thousand questions run through his head, but he is too proud to show sincere curiosity, so he lets Taehyung -- blessed be Taehyung and his love for snooping -- do all the work for him, psychologist that he is. After all, it's a professional strain, isn't it?

"What do you mean unfit for the role? I doubt it takes a degree to be a gangster."

Yoongi rests his elbows on his knees and releases a wry chuckle. "Yeah, but if you have bipolar disorder that's never been treated because your father is a traditionalist asshole, taking over the reins of the family business can be tricky," he says all at once.

“Oh."

Jimin conspicuously swallows the lump in his throat. Too much information, too little time to process it and let it sink in his head. Taehyung has also fallen silent now, everything becoming clearer to him.

"My father died before this could be handled properly. Geum-jae risked death on his first attempt to be a leader, we all risked death telling the truth. So I convinced him to take a step back and leave it to me. Because my brother is not a bad person, he has always been good and fair to me. Just a little different from others, but no less deserving of my love. Nevertheless, too many people's lives are at stake in our job. They," Yoongi points to Jungkook and Jin. "They risked death. I had no choice but to take Geum-jae's place and hope that my family would not be exterminated in the process," he concludes, his voice hoarse due to fatigue and memories clearly disturbing him.

For a moment, Jimin strips away all prejudice and tries a game, a little tactic that Taehyung told him he always suggests his patients do: he sets aside all context, all known names and faces. He simplifies the story and tries to identify with its archetypes. He is just a boy, the second son in a family that carries too great a burden. He has an older brother whom he loves but who has been given the task of inheriting that burden. But he is too fragile, too unstable, and is in danger of destroying everything. So, out of love and fear, he decides to sacrifice himself. He decides to take all that burden on his own shoulders because there is no alternative. He has no other choice.

Jimin feels a twinge in his stomach. He should not feel sympathy for Yoongi, he should not even try to justify him, yet a part of him finds it inevitable. He chases the thought away before it becomes something intrusive and takes root in his head.

"Where is he now?" he asks in a whisper. "Geum-jae?"

"In a clinic, where he takes his medicine regularly and lives away from danger," Yoongi confesses, his tone relieved, as if just the thought calms him. Jimin notices that Yi-Jeong, who has remained silent so far, reaches out a hand to squeeze Yoongi's knee, to silently comfort him.

That gesture unnerves him, but he restrains any instinct and looks away. "Okay," he says stupidly. Because, after all, what else could he say? I'm sorry? No way. He bites his tongue and forces himself into silence. 

For the next few minutes everyone decides that talking is pointless, it would somehow result in a crooked note. So they allow themselves to remain in their own thoughts and finish their tea while watching the waves of the sea, outside that house, sway quietly and untouchably.

Then Yoongi gets up from the sofa. "It's late now, we should all try to sleep."

No one protests.

The next morning Jimin woke up early. He ended up not getting much sleep, but not so much because of the nightmares, which seem to be hidden now in a corner of his mind, but because of Yoongi's words. Everything is so strange and new to him. He really doesn't know how to deal with it, doesn't know how to deal with what he feels, which is a huge confusion weighing on his chest. Part of him feels justified in feeling exactly this way: after all, after three years of relationship and one year of intense marriage, he finds himself only now that he is no longer with him adding a piece of his past. And this is all so wrong. Another part of him, on the other hand, the part that he would not want to listen to and that annoys him by poking at his mind, feels guilty because he wonders how things would have turned out if he had listened to Yoongi earlier. No, things would not have turned out differently because he is still a criminal. And he still lied to him. 

When he gets out of bed, Jimin grabs his cell phone and finds himself scrolling through the stories of his colleagues and fellow dancers. They are going on with rehearsals, dancing happily and committed, sweat and music are featured in their videos, sending a twinge of sadness into Jimin's heart, who suddenly feels overwhelmed by nostalgia.

He needs to dance; it has always been that way. For him it is a matter of love and pain intersecting in his body until they fly away through his movements. It is really very sad that he cannot do it now because something - someone - prevents him from doing it.

A notification vibrates his cell phone. A message from an unknown number.

"You are doing the right thing," reads the message. Jimin looks at it for a few seconds, a grimace of indecision on his face. He closes his eyes and puts the cell phone away, with the background turned down as if not to be forced to see anything.

There is no one in the house but him, Yi-Jeong and Yoongi. Taehyung has gone with Jin and Jungkook to run errands around the house - Jimin can't blame his best friend, getting some air is the least he can do in that situation - so this means that, to his misfortune, Jimin is alone in that memory-filled house with his ex-husband (can he really call him that? Never mind, he will) and his new lover. Can anything get worse?

Sure, catching your ex-husband's irritating new lover in the kitchen and falling into an awkward silence.

Yi-Jeong nods to him as he finishes filling his bread with eggs with remarkable intensity and effort. Jimin tries to soften his movements around the kitchen so as not to make it too obvious how uncomfortable he is, but he feels terrible at this. He is about to refill his cup of now-cold coffee when the boy behind him clears his throat to get his attention. Jimin slowly turns to look at him, and Yi-Jeong's bright eyes are on him.

"I'm good for him," he says without missing a beat, expression blunt. When Jimin says nothing, too surprised to respond, Yi-Jeong continues. "I know who he is, I know what he has done and what he does. And I like him for that very reason. I think he likes me too, and if it's not love yet, it doesn't mean it can't become in the future right?"

Each word is a stab in the chest of Jimin who, disarmed, remains with his mouth half-open, completely unable to utter a word.

"Um, okay?"

Yi-jeong shrugs. "I just want to be honest."

"Why are you telling me these things?"

"Because I'd like you to back off," he says bluntly, earning a bewildered reaction from the other. Then, he sighs.  "Look, Jimin-"

"It's hyung, for you,” Jimin snaps sharply.

Yi-Jeong smirks. "I'm older than you".

Yeah, fuck. He's right.

"Look, Jimin-ssi. I have nothing against you. I know you don't want to have anything more to do with him," how dare he claim to know what Jimin thinks? The boy grits his teeth. "...And I know there can be nothing more between you, but it seems fair to express my intentions. I ask you not to harass him anymore."

Jimin now feels he can burst out laughing. Is he tormenting Yoongi? Is this how the whole situation looks from the outside? It's ridiculous and senseless, Jimin feels the urge to hit Yi-Jeong even though on balance he has done nothing wrong, nor is he attacking him. Yet it is stronger than him, that sense of possessiveness that assails him and takes control.

Jimin advances a few steps toward Yi-Jeong, face impassive, but despite being a handful of inches shorter than him, he has a slightly threatening air, thanks to years and years of discipline (and Taehyung's teachings in sassyness).

"Don't take this as an insult but," Jimin begins slowly. "You don't seem like the kind of person who can win Yoongi over at all."

Yi-Jeong, surprised, recoils a step from Jimin's proximity. "Excuse me?”

"If you try too hard to make him love you, you've already lost, you know?" okay, Jimin is unnecessarily cruel but can't stop himself. "He needs someone to make his chest burn, to read his mind when even he doesn't know what he's thinking. He needs his spaces, but also needs you to invade them from time to time, even if he doesn't explicitly ask you to. He needs someone who constantly challenges him and leaves him speechless, without any effort. Can you do that, hyung?", Jimin almost derisively whispers the last word. "If you can do it, congratulations. You got what you want. I don't mind, believe me." 

He is lying, but that is another matter and concerns only himself. Jimin enjoys for a moment the bewilderment that crosses Yi-Jeong's eyes, probably so confident that he did not contemplate such a searing response from Jimin. At the same time, Jimin hates himself for directing his gratuitous cruelty toward a boy he does not even know and who, at the end of it all, is not at fault against him. 

Therefore, he doesn't add anything else and, taking his own cup of coffee with him, disappears from the room as quickly as possible so that he doesn't have to admit with his eyes that, in spite of everything, he feels bad about it.

Jimin spends the afternoon on the beach, dancing. It's not super comfortable, but at least it's something that brings him some calm and keeps him away from unnecessary thoughts. Poignant pop music leaks from the speaker of his phone as he moves without too much effort, simply letting his body follow the beats and interpret their meaning. When he is now too tired and his muscles are begging for mercy, Jimin decides to go back into the house and take a shower. Under the jet of hot water, the boy allows himself to rest his head on the wall, finally finding some relief in his stiffened neck and let himself be lulled by thoughts, much of them ugly and intrusive, all revolving around Yoongi. A few minutes later, his voice in his head is replaced by noises outside his room and the voices overlapping each other, spontaneous and lively, and he realizes that the others have finally returned from their errands. 

With a towel wrapped around his waist, the boy emerges from the bathroom overthinking. Surely, he doesn't expect to find someone in his room.

Jimin jerks, letting loose some expletives. "What the fuck are you doing in my room, can't you knock?”

Yoongi ignores him. "I need to ask you some questions."

"You can wait until I get dressed."

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but Jimin raises a hand to stop him.

"Please don't say you've already seen everything there was to see because I might punch you in the face," he says as he looks for something comfortable to wear and forcefully ignores the other's presence.

Yoongi smiles despite the threat. "I thought you wanted updates on Jihun's research."

Jimin turns sharply, one hand tight on the fabric around his waist. "Did you find him?"

Yoongi shakes his head and Jimin sighs, disappointed. "Namjoon and Hoseok went back to your apartment. It was upside down," he declares in a serious tone. "Jihun or one of his allies must have returned in hopes of finding some trace of you."

"W-what?", Jimin's eyes go wide.

"I'm here to ask if there are, in your opinion, any items or information they might have taken from your apartment to get to you or someone you know.”

A sense of alarm catches Jimin's gaze . "Do you think they can get to my family?" he stammers. 

Yoongi does not hesitate to remove that fear immediately. "No, you don't have to worry. I doubt they can get there until then, and anyway, I've already sent some of my men to secretly keep an eye on them."

Oh. "There's just my things, some pictures but-I don't know. I don't know if they might have taken-" Jimin is at a loss for words. "I don't think there's anything. Just Taehyung's things maybe, but he's here with us."

Yoongi nods. "Okay, good," he remains silent, thoughtful for a few seconds. "I know you don't want to know these things, but we have a lead," he admits candidly. "We may be close to finding him."

Those words immediately have a reassuring effect on Jimin, who breathes a long sigh of relief.

"You really can't wait for me to get the fuck out of your way, huh?" murmurs Yoongi with an amused half-smile, but his voice is distressed.

"I'm doing this for you," Jimin blurts out.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "For me?"

"And for your little friend out there," he can't really hold back a grimace. Yoongi rises from the bed and advances toward him. There is a playful, arrogant light in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you mean?" says Yoongi confused.

"The sooner I leave, the sooner you two can finally fulfill your dream of love," Jimin says sarcastically, a hint of sourness in his words.

Yoongi grins instantly. "You're really jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm irritated."

"Oh, is that so?"

"He thinks you are perfect for each other."

Jimin retreats a few steps, trying to keep his distance. But the room is small, and before long he finds himself cornered and with no way out. Yoongi is dangerously close.

"What about you?" whispers Yoongi when he is now face to face with Jimin and their eyes are locked in each other's. "Do you also think we are perfect for each other?"

He feels so naked, well yes he is literally half naked, but Yoongi's gaze makes him feel much more naked than the visible skin in front of him. 

Jimin glances at him restlessly. "What are you doing Yoongi?" he murmurs.

He knows very well what he is doing, knows him too well, so well that he has mentally nicknamed him "The Yoongi Effect." That sensual way the older has of getting close to him and turning on every part of his body, making every fiber of his being vibrate. As much as Jimin hates to admit it, now that they are so close to the point of almost touching each other, their bodies still fit together perfectly, playing the same melody, attracting each other as if they are only perfectly in sync when they are together. 

With the palm of one hand, Yoongi gently brushes Jimin's cheek, the latter holds his breath like water. "I just want to make sure that at least your body doesn't hate me," he murmurs, his breath on Jimin's mouth. He feels his own body tremble at his touch, so delicate yet so bold. "And I see it doesn't," Yoongi whispers smugly, allowing himself to lower his eyes and brazenly look at the towel around Jimin's waist.

With one finger Yoongi traces the features of Jimin's face, as if he were a marble statue. And like a statue, Jimin remains still, unable to retreat from that touch, so comfortable in prey to it. He feels his muscles, so used to the contact with Yoongi, relax immediately.

"I miss this every day," he keeps whispering. "Do you miss it too?"

"Never," Jimin replies harshly.

Yoongi's eyes snap to him. "Don't lie to me," he is almost threatening. "At least you, between the two of us, don't lie."

Jimin does not like what is happening, but he would be a hypocrite if he said he could do without it. That he could resist it. It was never possible for him not to give in to Yoongi's touch like a little doll in his hands. 

"Have you ever thought about me while you were fucking someone else?", Yoongi's voice is low and rough. Jimin knows he has totally lost touch with reality when Yoongi brings his hand down on the edge of the only garment covering his lower body. He opens his mouth to protest, but lets out a whimper that prompts Yoongi even more to caress his lower belly.

"I bet you did," he says low.

Yoongi is clever, always has been. He slips a finger into the edge of the towel around Jimin's waist being very careful never to go beyond the crotch. Yoongi caresses him almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Jimin is trembling slightly, it's a battle he fears he cannot win if he continues to focus on Yoongi's body pressing against his own, so warm and soothing. Why isn't he stopping it? Ah, because he wants to see how far Yoongi is willing to go. Then, he turns his face away from him, looking at some random spot behind him. 

"Who cares?", Jimin struggles to say, his heart racing, his eyes steady and cruel in Yoongi's. "You won't have me anymore anyway. And that's so cruel."

Yoongi's body grows tense. His finger stops making invisible circles on his skin. He looks at Jimin, who does not return his gaze. His eyes blink as if to keep back tears, but he tries hard to keep his face blank. The air changes around them, as if the electricity had short-circuited, and Jimin has to bite his lip to hold back a sigh when Yoongi jerks away from his body. The older closes his hand into a fist and looks at him. Jimin goes back to breathing.

"We are so cursed," Yoongi whispers, something in his voice revealing an almost unrecognizable trace of fragility. "Whenever you were with me, the light seemed to sit in the room with us, pushing the shadows away. I always thought you were that light. And when you left," Yoongi closes his eyes, "I thought I could forget you. I even succeeded for a while." Jimin feels his heart hammering in his chest with every word the other man says. His instincts are screaming at him to run to him and squeeze him, because Yoongi always seems so composed and solid, but in reality he is more vulnerable than he gives it away, he knows that very well. "But then...one touch of your hand and it comes rushing back." 

"The light or the shadows?", Jimin whispers.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Whatever it is that overwhelms."

The boy lingers in the room, suddenly uncomfortable. He no longer dares to look at Jimin, who is still pressed against the wall, afraid to make any movement.

He flinches and walks out of the room. That abrupt movement suddenly awakens Jimin's body. The boy detaches himself from the wall, and without being able to think too much about it, he follows Yoongi, who by now has arrived in the living room where the others are busy between work and whispered chatter. Taehyung looks up at Jimin ready to greet him with a smile, but this is immediately extinguished as soon as he sees his friend enter the room with rapid pace and fury in his eyes. Jimin grabs Yoongi's wrist, forcing him to turn around. Before he can think about what he is about to do, the boy hits Yoongi's cheek with a slap. The sound echoes unperturbed in the room.

Everyone jolts and gasps in surprise. Yoongi, however, remains motionless, defeated. Jimin hates him because of that fire he unleashes within himself. He hates him because with Yoongi, Jimin never knows what he is capable of.

He lowers his hand, shakes it as if it hurts him more than it hurts Yoongi. He keeps shaking as he murmurs to him, clenched teeth and heavy breathing. "Don't you dare ever again".

–––––––

Jimin tortures his hands by walking back and forth across the room in the apartment. His lips are chapped from the torture he has subjected them to with his teeth. He is nervous, annoyed, but most of all, he is helpless. Because more than 48 hours have passed and he has no idea where Yoongi is. And he's not the obsessive, paranoid or jealous type, but god -- it's not normal for him to suddenly disappear like this, without any warning. He tried to call him several times, perhaps more than is legal, but from Yoongi total silence. To make matters worse, at the club he found neither Namjoon nor any of his other friends. So all Jimin is left with is a den of anxiety, panic, and a phone to vent on.

TO: Yoonie [2:03 pm]

Why don't you answer my calls?

TO: Yoonie [3:00 pm]

hey, everything okay? i'm starting to worry

TO: Yoonie [4:30 pm]

Please call me back as soon as you can? 

TO: Yoonie [4:35 pm]

Sorry I didn't mean to sound like something happened, nothing happened, I'm just worried.

TO: Yoonie [8:00 pm]

I tried calling Hoseok, he doesn't answer me either.

TO: Yoonie [9:30 pm]

You're not at the club, you're not at your apartment. What should I do?

TO: Yoonie [10:13 pm]

ARE YOU GHOSTING ME???? MIN YOONGI

TO: Yoonie [11:45 pm]

Yoonie, pls. I just want you to come home so I can kill you if someone else hasn't already done it

Jimin continues to bite his lip, wondering whether he should stay there, in Yoongi's apartment, or whether it would be better to go to the police instead. A person is considered missing after 48 hours, right? But terror and confusion grip Jimin's stomach, sowing doubt within him that Yoongi simply doesn't want to deal with him anymore. Maybe he is avoiding him because he doesn't know how to tell him that... no, it can't be – Jimin shakes his head and drives that thought away. They are fine together. Sure, they fight all the time, but sometimes he thinks they do it more because the sex afterwards is sweeter. Besides, Yoongi is not a coward, he doesn't run away from--

The noise of the apartment code jolts Jimin. The young man arrives just in time in the entrance hallway to see Yoongi enter the apartment and go wide-eyed, surprised to see him.

“Jimin-ah?"

Jimin looks at him and a thousand different emotions run through his body. The one that remains, the one that settles - as usual - is anger. Jimin walks over to Yoongi and starts hitting him in the chest, weakly.

"You piece of shit!" he shouts. "Where the hell have you been, huh? How," Jimin slaps Yoongi's chest. "You could-" he hits him again. Yoongi looks at him dumbfounded, "ignoring my calls like that." He goes on like this for another minute, hitting Yoongi more and more weakly, shouting less and less, and ending up whispering almost in tears.

"Are you done?" asks Yoongi with a small smile of tenderness on his face.

"What the fuck happened?" says Jimin in a whisper, his breath labored with exertion.

"I'm sorry-I..." Yoongi sounds so tired. "Long story. A family matter."

"Is that all?", Jimin raises his voice again, but follows Yoongi, who meanwhile heads to the kitchen, removing his jacket and filling a glass of water. "A family matter? You disappear for two whole days without being heard from at all and all you have to say is a fucking family matter?"

Yoongi takes a long gulp, closes his eyes in relief, but does not seem the least bit upset by Jimin's outburst. "I lost my phone, it was an unexpected thing, I didn't think I would scare you."

"I'm your fucking boyfriend! Of course I get scared if you disappear overnight and no one knows what happened to you."

Yoongi nods, realization slowly dawns on his face. "I know, you're right."

Jimin points a finger at him. "Don't agree with me, give me explanations, Yoongi."

"I will, I promise. Can we go to sleep now, though? I'm really beat," Yoongi squints, rubbing his face.

Jimin looks at him with a shocked face. "Do you really think I'm going to sleep with you now and pretend nothing is wrong?" he asks incredulously.

Yoongi becomes impaneled. "Um...yes?"

"You are unbelievable," Jimin throws his hands up in disbelief. "I almost went to the police for you!"

Yoongi remains staring at him thoughtfully. "Were you really that scared for me?" the man asks, the shadow of a smug grin on his face. He shouldn't be smug, he should be fucking mortified, but apparently Jimin can't make him see that.

The hint of doubt overshadows his face. "Were you with someone else?"

A beat. Yoongi's face becomes serious again, almost shadowy. "What are you saying?"

"If you are cheating on me or if there is someone else, Yoongi--tell me now, please," Jimin's voice is so weak and uncertain that only at that moment does Yoongi realize the seriousness of the situation. He takes a step toward him, has the instinct to grab his hand and clasp it in his, but instead Yoongi chooses to grab his chin and force him to look at him.

"How can you think such a thing?" he asks sternly. "We don't talk for a couple of days and you immediately think I'm cheating on you?"

Jimin would like to justify himself, but the truth is that he has no justification. Yoongi has never given him a way to think such a thing, it's simply the cruel and insecure voice in his head telling him that sooner or later he will lose him, that it is all too good to be true, so it is an illusion.

"The fact that you think such a thing is an insult," Yoongi looks seriously offended now, Jimin's eyes wide as the other still holds his chin tightly in his fingers. "Does our relationship mean nothing to you? What I feel for you, is it worthless to you?” he asks, hurt.

“Yoongi, I'm-”.

The older lets go of Jimin's face and takes a few steps back. "Stop feeding your insecurities, Jimin," his tone is harsh. "I hate it when you reduce what you and I have to such stupid thoughts."

"Then don't disappear from me like a ghost!", cries Jimin.

"I told you, I had some serious setbacks and couldn't warn you, there's nothing shady behind this and it's insulting that you think that I'm fucking cheating on you with all that we share every day."

Wait. Why does he suddenly seem to be the one in the dock? Why is Yoongi the one looking outraged? Jimin clenches his fists and straightens his back, giving himself a demeanor.

"Yoongi," he says his name, trying to keep calm and clearly failing. "When you share your life with another person you find time to at least give him a damn call! To let him know you're alive and well."

"It's not like I do this every time, how can you not trust me?", Yoongi snaps. 

"I do trust you," sighed Jimin rubbing his face. "But I was scared because you disappeared overnight and I didn't know where to find you and I got anxious, okay? Is it so absurd that I'm worrying?" And why, Jimin wonders, is it not absurd that Yoongi has not yet given him an answer? Maybe he is overreacting, sure, but it's not like his boyfriend is exactly a poor victim. Manipulative bastard.

"You say this like we're married, but we've been together for a year and a half, we're not fucking married, Jimin!", Yoongi raises his voice.

As a result, Jimin raises his voice. "Then fucking marry me!" 

Time stands still, the air in the room changes. Yoongi looks at him stunned.

"What did you say?”

Jimin's eyes go wide, realizing only now what he has said. He blushes suddenly, but tries to keep an impassive expression, not to give in. He is too proud to turn back.

"Marry me."

Yoongi stares at him open-mouthed, speechless. For a few seconds he doesn't really know what to say, then releases a bewildered giggle. "You're completely out of your mind."

"Yes. So what? You love me for it."

Jimin bites his lip, all the anger in his body suddenly vanishes. He knows he has to eat those words back, knows that what he said is absurd, senseless, dictated by the heat of the moment but... maybe it's not. Because, in spite of everything, Jimin realizes with complete surprise, that he does not want to take back those words. Maybe a part of him is panicking, but what is really shocking is that the rest of his mind and his whole heart has no objection to those words.

As if a new awareness has come over both of them, Yoongi and Jimin talk with their eyes.

"You," Yoongi says slowly advancing toward him. "You are... the most absurd person I know." 

And so he kisses him. It's a greedy, angry, sensual kiss; Jimin has no intention or ability to protest. He opens his mouth to let Yoongi's tongue devour and savor him unrestrained. With both hands he grabs his hips and squeezes him, letting himself go, indulging in that kiss. Only when he needs to breathe does Yoongi pull away and rest his forehead on Jimin's, closing his eyes.

"Are you serious?", he murmurs.

Jimin breathes heavily, the taste of Yoongi still on his lips. "I don't know."

"Marry me," Yoongi says confidently, not missing a beat.

Jimin lets a half smile escape. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Jimin lets himself be held in his arms, his head tucked in the crook of Yoongi's neck. He could spend a lifetime there squeezed in that exact spot, needing nothing else, saying or doing nothing but breathing into each other's bodies. "Okay."

Then Yoongi suddenly begins to giggle, and soon Jimin joins him.

"You know that you are my whole life, right?"

"Yeah," Jimin nods into his neck. "I love you, too.”

–––––––

"You know you're talking to yourself right?"

Hoseok's voice jerks Jimin, who has been staring at the sea for at least half an hour, tapping his feet on the sand like a child and talking to himself, sullenly. He turns to glare evilly at Hoseok, who, however, is not intimidated and stands beside him.

"You guys really fight a lot, huh?" he says bluntly. Jimin realizes that he is referring to the slap he publicly threw at Yoongi just before. "Some things never change."

"Everything does change, though," Jimin snaps. The sun is setting and the wind has begun to ruffle his hair. The breeze on his skin is pleasant, the warm sand on his bare feet is soothing. But everything else - Jimin doesn't know what to think anymore. 

"You know we're not bad people, right?" resumes Hoseok. "I mean, we're not even good people, sure, I guess we're just human beings who have made questionable choices and done illegal things, but we're not monsters."

Jimin purses his lips. He shouldn't care about what Hoseok has to say, but he still stands there in silence, straining not to look at him and staring out at the sea that darkens as evening comes.

"If you're trying to advance your cause-"

"I'm not trying to do anything, let me be clear. I'm just stating the facts. I finally have some time to talk with you again, indulge me." Hoseok was always one of the people Jimin was closest to in Yoongi's group. From the first time he met him, with those raised cheekbones and playful but mature attitude, Jimin found in him a true friend. Someone to tease Yoongi with, someone to talk late into the night together with Taehyung about the most absurd and nonsensical things. Certainly, Hoseok was one of Jimin and Yoongi's biggest supporters, even when even the two of them were not sure what they were doing.

"Do you know why we immediately loved you so much when Yoongi brought you into his life?"

Jimin doesn't want to know.

“No."

Before speaking, Hoseok advances a few steps until his feet dip into the waves that rhythmically reach the shore. Jimin observes his longilinear body, his back wrapped in an oversized t-shirt that makes him look smaller, more innocent. He remembers wondering - how is it possible that Hobi is also part of this? - after finding out the truth about Yoongi's business. Someone as bright and loud as him, with the most infectious laugh in the world, could not be a criminal, could not be part of a gang. But still.

"At first, it seemed unreasonable for Yoongi to get so attached to you. We thought you were just someone to, you know, have fun with. I for one had been pushing him to do that, to look for someone, a partner to just have sex with. Then between you two, things got more and more intense, and we started to worry. Yoongi and Namjoon even came to blows once because of you.”

Jimin sucks in a breath, suddenly curious. "Really?"

Hoseok nods and shrugs nonchalantly. "Namjoon was afraid to involve you and at the same time he was afraid that Yoongi would get too involved and something would then go terribly wrong. I'd say he got it right in the end, he was always the smartest of us all," Hoseok jokes, but the hint of bitterness in his voice is stronger than his fake smile.

"So he wasn't a fan of our relationship?" ventures Jimin.

"Oh, trust me. He loves you. But he couldn't stand Yoongi keeping you in the dark, none of us could stand it. You're so..." he gestures confusedly without finding the words. Jimin raises an eyebrow. "I don't know, there's something irresistible about the way you feel things. It was really hard for all of us not to get attached in the beginning."

Jimin blushes and lowers his gaze. Those words, paradoxically, hurt more than any insult. Hoseok notices this and crosses his arms over his chest and, unconsciously, with his eyes pointed straight ahead, gets lost in memories Jimin does not know, a side of history he cannot be a part of.

"And then we couldn't help ourselves anymore. It was you, Jimin-ah," he says, finally turning to look at Jimin, his gaze stern. "You made us think we were good people. Or, at least, you made us hope we were, at least a little," Hoseok lets out a chuckle. "You even pushed Jungkook to allow himself to fall in love. He who didn't think he deserved it," there is something bitter in the boy's smile. "So when you left, we felt like monsters again." 

He narrows his eyes at him, tilting his head as he looks over searching for any possible signs of lies. There are none, because Hoseok is really the most genuine and most transparent person he knows.

What does it mean to be a bad person? This is the first thought that pops into Jimin's head without him being able to stop it. It's like Taehyung says, maybe, criminals are kind of everywhere. Or not, and he is just trying to justify the unjustifiable because it is too hard to accept the fact that he married and loved a lost person who does evil. But can they really be so mean and despicable when they suffer at the idea of being so? Hoseok, for example, seems genuinely pained at the idea that Jimin thinks he is a terrible person. Are you a real monster if you are afraid of being a monster?

"Hobi..." Jimin begins.

Hoseok raises and waves a hand to interrupt him. "Never mind, never mind," the boy turns away from the shore and starts walking as if suddenly everything hurt too much and it was time to leave. "We'll work this out, I promise. Trust Yoongi, trust us. And then you'll be free to go on with your life, ignoring ours." He adds nothing more, shrugs his shoulders in an instinctive gesture, and with hasty step walks away to reach the house.

Jimin should be relieved by his words. That's all he wants, to be able to return to his apartment, start with his routine again, resume with his work with the dance company. There is absolutely no doubt, Jimin thinks, that this is exactly how things must be in his heart. But then why does the thought throw him into utter anguish?

That sense of bewilderment and dizziness, hours later, has still not gone away. Jimin has made an effort to join the others on the beach, where they are drinking and munching on food around a small bonfire, in front of the black, choppy sea. Jimin particularly sees himself there again, as he sips his second beer and is already ready to move on to the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook brought along with the chairs, a few blankets, and the Bluetooth speaker from which he has played a random playlist in the background. The air being particularly cool, Jimin thought it would be best to stay in his room, but Taehyung insisted that getting some air and chatting a bit would help him not go completely crazy, and maybe drinking would tire him out enough that he wouldn't wake up from nightmares. Jimin therefore agreed, clinging to the alcohol in hopes of losing consciousness.

Everyone is there - Namjoon and Jin are chatting thickly about something that looks very serious with Yoongi, while Jungkook and Yi-Jeong are giggling over some phone game they are looking at on their cell phones. Jimin sits on a wooden deck chair, rocking his head absentmindedly to the rhythm of the music in the background, a pleasant pop ballad he doesn't know. Ah, how he misses dancing. His hours on the beach practicing are not enough for him, Jimin needs to be in a room, in front of a mirror, or on a stage in front of an audience.

As those thoughts crowd his head and the song gently fades away, Jimin is lulled instead by the chatter of Hoseok and Taehyung. They are all very careful not to touch on any sensitive topics, as if it were a silent agreement they made before coming together. Hoseok talks to Taehyung listening attentively, but without his usual cheerful attitude and tendency for physical contact. You can clearly see that he is uncomfortable, his shoulders stiff, as if they were again two strangers who have to turn around to get to know each other.

"So your patient has a problem with his father?" is Hoseok asking.

"Um, not really, it's more of a projection," Taehyung explains, the other nods thoughtfully.

Probably, Jimin thinks as he casts a glance at them, they don't quite know how to act normal, but they are trying. Maybe he, too, could make that effort? But how would one go about it? Jimin wouldn't know where to start.

Upbeat beats suddenly spread out from the cash register, a song that immediately catches Jimin's attention. At first he cannot quite identify it, does not know why it has diverted him from his thoughts. He squeezes his eyes shut as if to concentrate and try to associate it with something, to remember it. When it happens, when finally a flash suddenly illuminates his memories, Jimin straightens up in his chair suddenly and before he can stop himself he looks around and immediately intercepts Jungkook's gaze. The latter is already staring at him, the large glass near his mouth covering half his face. For a split second the two look at each other seriously, almost seeking approval in each other's gaze. Then, as If something has triggered them, Jungkook lowers his glass and Jimin can catch the beginning of a shy smile. It is at that point that he can't resist any longer and... they both burst out laughing.

It's stronger than Jimin, he just can't help himself, and he laughs. He laughs heartily, as does Jungkook, on the other side of the fire, who with that bunny grin throws his head back without being able to stop himself.

Everyone around them stops what they were doing and starts staring at them confused and puzzled, not understanding what is going on. And meanwhile, Jimin and Jungkook keep looking at each other, as much as possible, laughing out loud, almost tearing up with laughter.

"What? What's going on?" asks Taehyung at one point, annoyed that he is not involved in the odd moment between Jimin and Jungkook, who - incidentally - continue to laugh out loud without having the strength to explain themselves. Jimin feels so light, as he has not felt in days, he feels the tears of laughter resting on the ends of his eyes.

"The-the song," Jungkook then manages to say between laughs.

It's Yoongi, of course, to understand what's happening. At first also intrigued by the scene, something suddenly catches his eye and, unexpectedly, almost makes him blush. Then he sulks and begins to mutter to himself something indecipherable, perhaps expletives.

"I don't get it, what's so funny?" insists Taehyung, searching Hoseok's gaze for an answer, but the boy throws up his hands and shakes his head as if he has no idea.

"It's that-it's that, sorry I can't take it," Jimin feels he might die from laughter. Especially when Jungkook starts imitating a ridiculous dance step that makes a sullen Yoongi mutter even more.

"Can someone explain to us too? Look it's not funny!" interjects Jin in annoyance. As the music still flows, Jimin closes his eyes to calm himself and finally the fit of laughter slowly begins to die down. A smile remains, however, when Jungkook explains. "This song, ah, it's an old memory."

"Jungkook-ah," Yoongi warns him, his eyes two merciless thunderbolts.

"A very funny memory apparently," Namjoon frowns. "Care to share with us?"

Jungkook nods, ignoring the curses his boss is throwing at him with his eyes. "Remember Jimin-hyung's birthday a couple of years ago at the club?", he points to Yoongi and Jimin. "I drove both of them back home and – god – Yoong-hyung was so drunk that he got it into his head to challenge Jimin to a dance contest and..." Jimin starts laughing again, his body wracked with spasms as he wipes away the tears. "You guys can't understand, there was this song and he was so convinced he was a great dancer, so he started to move and..."

"It was terrible, the worst dancer I've ever seen," Jimin adds, mentally recalling the scene. He was exhausted on the couch after an evening at the club with Yoongi, and Jungkook had helped him carry his almost-husband home, who could not stand up from alcohol after celebrating his birthday. Yoongi was a lovely creature, who could always be composed and intimidating at every opportunity, and here he was suddenly babbling and declaring eternal love to Jimin, clinging to his shoulders like a needy child. Then he had decided that he wanted to show Jimin how much he loved him in the only way Jimin knew, which was by dancing. Jimin and Jungkook had tried to stop him, but it had been useless. Yoongi had begun to move awkwardly and ungainly to the beat of the song that was now playing on the beach.

"That scene haunted me for days," Jungkook stated, amused.

"I will kill you," Yoongi promises, hiding behind his glass of whiskey. At his very words, the others also begin to giggle with amusement. Wanting to know more, they approach around the fire distractedly, almost gathering in a circle. 

"I want video footage of this desperately," Taehyung pouts.

"Trust me, you wouldn't stand for it," Jungkook smiles at them.

"Was it really that bad?" asks Namjoon with a grin turning to Jimin.

"You can't even imagine," he shakes his head.

The air around them lightens, Yoongi becomes the common target of all teasing, and Jungkook and Jimin are more than happy to deliver details of that hilarious moment.

Yoongi whines. "Oh, please, can you stop?"

"I can't, I swear. Besides, he's the one who won't stop laughing," Jungkook accuses Jimin while pointing a finger at him. Jimin makes a scandalous face. "Brat! You looked at me first!" cries Jimin, alcohol making him a little tipsy.

"I wish I had something embarrassing to tell about you, so you'll learn," Yoongi argues turning to Jungkook.

"Oh, no problem for that," Taehyung interjects with a smug light in his eyes. "It's not like mister here is any less embarrassing when he drinks."

Jungkook turns sharply to look at Taehyung, eyes wide, an expression of terror takes over his round face. "You wouldn't dare…."

"Please dare," Yoongi begs him, already relishing the idea of revenge.

Taehyung giggles excitedly. "Did you know he can be a real poet?"

Jin claps his hands curiously. "Please don't tell me he did what I think he did."

"How far does your imagination go? Because I assure you, you have no idea of that-"

"No, no, stop," Jungkook groans, hiding his face in his hands.

As the night goes on, Jimin doesn't stop giggling as everyone starts bringing up embarrassing anecdotes and accusing each other unabashedly. Maybe it's partly because of the alcohol, partly because of those funny and happy tales, the fact is that he feels his chest light, rests his head back on the lawn chair and observes the scene, commenting from time to time on what the others pull out of their hats of embarrassing memories, never returning to the center of attention.

Then he feels the pressure of a gaze on him and cannot help but meet Yoongi's eyes. They lock into each other's eyes for a moment that seems to last an eternity. On their faces there is still the shadow of a smile, slowly fading. Jimin allows himself the audacity to devour his gaze, to not take his eyes off him and analyze the pang that has taken to clutching his heart. Would it ever go away? That sense of beauty and excitement that only Yoongi's presence can provoke in him? Would it ever go away that magnetic pull he has no control over and which makes the world swirl on its axis whenever they are together in the same room?

Yoongi was always bright to him - Jimin has no other word for it. And it is all so ironic thinking how instead Yoongi turned out to be a dark creature who ripped every trace of sunshine from his life. So, would his love ever go away? And more importantly, does Jimin want it to go away?

He blinks without looking away from Yoongi, fatigue beginning to pervade every part of his body. Thus, lulled by the laughter of the boys around him, Jimin closes his eyes having Yoongi's eyes focused on him as the last image before falling asleep.

Hours later, in the middle of the night, everyone is too tired and cold, so they decide to go back to bed, with a promise the next day to discuss important and urgent matters again, such as the search for Jihun. Jungkook offers to carry Jimin back to his room, with Taehyung's help, because no one has the heart to wake him up knowing full well how difficult it is for him to sleep peacefully those last days. 

Yoongi lingers a little longer, taking the last sips of his umpteenth shot of whiskey. His throat burns, but it's never enough for him who over the years has learned to handle that friendly liquid well. Yi-Jeong remains sitting by his side, silent, and only when everyone has now moved away does he venture a glance toward the older man. "Are you cold?"

Yoongi gasps, as if he had only then become aware of his presence. "What? Ah, no, don't worry.”

Yi-Jeong picks up his chair and drags it across the sand until his knees brush against Yoongi's. He points his eyes at the man and slides a hand down his leg. Slowly, Yoongi brings his attention to that voluntary touch, first watching Yi-Jeong's hand caress his leg intimately, then shifting his gaze to the boy. Yi-Jeong is smiling shyly at him.

"Would you like to relax a little?" he asks with a tinge of seduction in his voice. "I can help you chase away some stress," he says by running his hand inside Yoongi's thighs. "Yeah?"

"I'm not in the mood, Yi."

"Well then we can just stay on the bed, what do you say?"

Yoongi looks at him intently for a few seconds, a flash of sorrow crosses his eyes, then he sets the glass down in the sand and sighs. "I thought we agreed. You know that was all I wanted.”

Yi-Jeong stiffens, his hand stops, and he straightens up, as if he has been shocked. His face hardens. "And I thought that in time you would understand. You have to move on Yoongi, this could be so easy. You and me. Together. Why don't you allow yourself to think about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it now."

Yi-Jeong snorts, annoyed. "Of course you don't want to talk about it. Because you're stubborn and afraid to agree with me."

"Yi-Jeong," Yoongi warns him.

The boy fidgets in his chair, impatient. "I can give you the same things he gives you," he says with an edge of anger in his voice. You can't, Yoongi thinks, but says nothing.

"I'm sorry, but do you really think things can change?" he whispers softly. "He doesn't want you anymore, Yoongi. You need to forget him, you need to open yourself up to other possibilities. I am like you, you don't need to hide with me, because I love you for who you are. Without any lies."

Yoongi grimaces. “Stop."

He doesn't. Yi-Jeong is exploding, the desperation visible in his eyes and palpable in the way he clutches Yoongi's knee. "What's so special about him that makes you that way? You're getting hung up on a dead thing."

"You don't understand," Yoongi glares at him. "It's not your fault, you've never seen us together. It's not something people can replicate in life. It's not something that happens again", Yoongi sighs, perhaps well aware of how his own words are a pathetic and delusional statement, but no less true to his ears. "We were different."

Yi-Jeong abruptly grabs Yoongi's hand and squeezes it in his own. "Are you still hoping that he will change his mind? Do you really think he will? And even if he does, how do you think it will work out between the two of you, huh?", Yoongi makes an annoyed face, shaking his head slowly. "He can never accept what you do, because he is not like us. He is from another world and maybe it was good for now, but in the long run you will end up hating him too."

"You don't know anything. I can't," Yoongi murmurs as if it involves immense effort to utter those words.

"No, you don't want to. It's different.”

Yoongi withdraws his hand from Yi-Jeong's grip and clenches his jaw. He is trying to prevent the boy's words from entering his head and corrupting his thoughts. As if those demons that have been torturing him for some time are not enough already, insinuating doubts and truths that are too difficult for him to face. Perhaps a part of him is aware that yes, something has been broken between him and Jimin that cannot be rebuilt, but that doesn't take away from the fact that there is not an ounce of his being that can break away from him. To overcome what they have been. This is probably his eternal doom, what can he do about it? Yoongi is learning, day by day, to accept it. Like a punishment.

"I'm sorry, Yi. But don't ask me to choose. You already know how it would end."

Yoongi watches Yi-Jeong's pained and desperate expression. He notes perfectly the way the boy realizes he has no hope of reasoning with him, of getting him on his side.

His shoulders sag under the weight of his broken heart. How could he have missed it? How did Yoongi manage to break another person's heart without meaning to? And, at the same time, how could anyone even dare to think that he could get over someone like Jimin, could get over such an intense and complex love? It would be arrogant of anyone to even try to prevent Apollo from approaching his sun. No, you cannot go over Jimin. You only accept that you have touched his existence, that you had the privilege of being able to worship him, and then you cringe to yourself in the knowledge that nothing or no one will ever measure up to him.

"This is sad," whispers Yi-Jeong in a broken voice and bright eyes. "I pity you, Yoongi", he bites.

Yoongi lets him vent, feeling nothing but sorry for hurting a boy who did not deserve to be involved in his chaos.

"Let me ask you something," his voice, overcome with pain, hardens. "Close your eyes and tell me: ten, twenty years from now, can you see Jimin by your side in your head? Honestly, be realistic, where are you? What are you doing?"

Irritated by that question, Yoongi gets up from his chair, feeling a little dizzy. He doesn't want to listen to Yi-Jeong anymore, doesn't want to go down that road. He needs to stop it before things get really bad.

"Go to sleep, Yi. Just--go to sleep," he adds nothing more and walks, his feet now frozen in the sand, toward the French doors of the house not far away. Only when he is now on the threshold does Yoongi notice that there is someone leaning with one shoulder on the window jamb, a relaxed, contemplative pose.

Namjoon is staring at him, his eyes on him steady and unabashed. Yoongi hates that look.

"Did you hear everything?" he asks harshly. 

Namjoon shrugs, heedless.

"I'm going to sleep," cut Yoongi short as he re-enters the house regaining a modicum of warmth in his body. He didn't realize it was so cold.

He has almost crossed the room when Namjoon speaks again. "I think he asked the question the wrong way."

Yoongi stops his pace and turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Namjoon steps away from the window. He too has been drinking heavily, but there is no trace of daze in his posture or the way he speaks. "I know very well where you see yourself in 20 years. The question was never that, because I don't think there is any doubt," Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but finally decides to keep quiet. Namjoon gives a half smile. "The point is, my friend, when are you going to stop brooding about what you want and finally start doing something to get it?"

Yoongi doesn't say a word, paralyzed by his friend's bluntness, the impertinence with which he has cornered him with no chance to retort. He doesn't even care whether Namjoon is right or wrong, as long as there is any sense in what he has told him. He is suddenly too tired to process, take those words apart and make them dust.

For the rest of the night, those few hours of sleep before dawn, Yoongi forgets every word Yi-Jeong says. Namjoon's brazen question is the only loud noise that haunts him. In a rush of total irrationality, something he might not have done if he had not drunk so much, when it is now the early hours of the morning Yoongi grabs his cell phone and dials a number. He rests his head on the headboard and closes his eyes, letting the ringing lull him. When he now thinks he will get no answer, there comes the metallic ringing noise.

"Yoongi?" a male voice on the other end of the line calls to him surprised. "Hey, little brother, is that you?"

"Hi" Yoongi murmurs. "Can we talk?"

It’s now past eleven o'clock when Jimin enters the kitchen groaning, his eyes still closed, his hair tousled, and looking devastated. He sits on the stool at the peninsula table. Taehyung and Hoseok, busy drinking their coffee in silence, exchange an amused look.

"Good morning sunshine."

"Shut the fuck up," Jimin mutters, prompting a giggle from Hoseok.

"He's such an angel when he wakes up," the dark wavy-haired boy comments sarcastically.

"Can you keep your voice down? You're scratching my eardrums."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," nods Jimin slowly. The boy fills a cup and hands it to him. As soon as the bitter, hot liquid touches his tongue, Jimin lets out a moan of pleasure and already feels better.

"Oh, Minie, my beautiful soulmate. I see you finally slept well," Taehyung mocks him with a mischievous grin. Jimin ignores him, glancing at the food on the counter. He steals a slice of bacon from Hoseok's plate and smiles. ""I will not speak to you until your voice stops bothering me. But yes, I did.”

"That’s great".

"Is there some coffee for me too?" Jungkook enters the kitchen, so energetic and pimply that he immediately irritates Jimin's view. Why doesn't everyone have a shattered head and look as terrible as he does? This is unfair.

"Yes, there's some left there," Hoseok points to him at the jug by the stove.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin notices that Taehyung has stiffened and lowered his gaze, looking at his plate as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. And that is unusual. Especially since Jungkook looks at him for a few moments and then averts his eyes sharply, biting his lip. Okay, very suspicious. No one utters a word for a few seconds, at least until Jungkook leaves the room with his cup of coffee and the tension finally seems to release Taehyung's body. The young man, still with his face almost in the pot, feels two pairs of eyes on himself. At that point he raises his head and casts a mock-innocent glance at Jimin and Hoseok, who are staring at him waiting for him to speak.

"What?" Taehyung watches them back with a frown of his own, confusion written all over his face. 

"What's going on with you two?"

"What are you talking about?”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, his are you serious? expression visible on his face.

Taehyung sighs, his shoulder sag. "Yesterday I kissed him," he blurts out, blushing immediately.

"What?" Jimin jumps off the stool, almost falling off. Hoseok makes a shocked face, his gaping mouth screams without making a sound. "And when were you planning to tell me?”

“You just woke up!”, Taehyung shrieks accusingly. 

Jimin responds by pinching his arm spitefully. “That should have been the first thing to say, even before good fucking morning!”

Taehyung shrugs, nonchalantly. “Look, I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you, okay? I kissed him because I wanted him. It's nothing. It's lust and I'm a whore, you know”. 

Jimin looks confused. “I thought I was the whore in this friendship”.

“Yes, but only temporarily. I'm the oldest whore in town, you're just the whore trying to mend his own broken heart”.

Jimin nods as if it all makes sense. "Right."

Hoseok looks at them with wide eyes. "Wait, then what kind of whore am I?"

"You can be the sweet gangster whore if you like," Taehyung grants him with a smile and devours a slice of bread. Stunned, Hoseok seems to decide at that moment that he likes the definition, so he nods. Then, Jimin snaps his fingers in front of Taehyung's eyes to refocus his attention.

"Don't change our subject. What happened? Do--do you still like him?"

Taehyung shrugs. "I do. And I really dislike him too. But I care for him, you know? There's nothing I can do about it." Jimin is speechless. The way his friend can easily talk about what he wants and needs without overthinking or without shame well.... makes Jimin envy him.

"But please don't worry", Taehyung rests a hand on his and squeezes it. "I'm always on your side."

What? He frowns as Taehyung continues to stare at him with a wistful gentleness. What does what Taehyung feels not feel with Jungkook have to do with him? Suspicion tightens in his throat and Jimin whitens finally realizing that his best friend is stifling his feelings.

Jimin feels dazed. He clears his throat and tries to put aside his morning headache to focus on his friend. "Tae, you know that you don't have to think about me, right? That my problems with him have nothing to do with you and Jungkook?" The thought that the boy is somehow putting aside his own desires and happiness makes him feel enormously guilty. Is he really that selfish?

Taehyung opens his mouth to protest, but Yoongi, Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook arrive in the kitchen, all perfectly dressed and fit as if they had been awake for hours, and Taehyung shuts his mouth.

"You make me look like the lazy, loser one of the group," Hoseok mutters as he looks at his annoyed friends, his lips pouty like a child.

"Well, then hurry up. You and I have to go back to Seoul," Namjoon points out to him.

"Why can't Jungkook go with you?" complains Hoseok.

"Because I'm accompanying Jin to do some shopping."

Jimin keeps spasmodically alternating his gaze from Taehyung and Jungkook, as if searching for an answer, perhaps an idea. An enlightenment! Yes, this is what he needs to show his friend that he doesn't have to repress himself because of him. So, Jimin does not know what is possessing him when--"Taehyung could go with you!" he suddenly blurts out, drawing scowls from everyone.

Jungkook gapes. “W-what?”.

Fuck. Maybe it was better to keep his mouth shut and mind his own business, but the damage is done now and Jimin feels kind of obligated to help his friend, no matter how stupid and childish it may seem. So he ignores Taehyung's fiery looks and continues. "Yeah, he needs some air and he's getting bored here. I was planning to train all day on the beach..."

"Oh," says Jungkook, looking at Taehyung. "That's, uh, fine with me. Assuming you want to." The other boys in the room seem to pick up on the same tension and unease that possesses the two youngest in the group. Even Yoongi looks at the two in curiosity. They are so stupidly blatant.

Taehyung bites his lip and nods. "Okay for me."

Jin claps his hands together as if to restore order to that mumbling, ridiculous pile of men. "Great, so shall we start using all those asses and firm legs to do something useful?"

Jimin barely holds back a giggle as his phone, resting on the table, begins to vibrate with notifications. The boy adumbrates and ignores them. Fortunately, everyone is talking among themselves about their plans for the day, and no one seems to mind Jimin's suddenly somber face. Everyone except Taehyung, of course. And Yoongi, but that doesn't count because Jimin is deliberately ignoring him.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side and crosses his arms. "What is it?

"Just work. They want me to keep practicing my part of the choreography because they will probably postpone the performance for a few months and maybe..." Jimin hesitates, gestures to downplay it. "Maybe I could do it," he concludes in a soft voice. Taehyung's expression softens immediately and he instinctively gets up from his stool and places a kiss on his friend's head. "Well, then you have to practice okay? We will be away and you will have time. You must be perfect," Taehyung winks at him and Jimin smiles almost touched.

"Hasn't Yi-Jeong woken up yet?" asks Jin evasively.

"He's gone," Yoongi simply says.

"What? Where?"

A beat. "He just went away."

Not for an instant does Yoongi take his eyes off Jimin.

This is because there is a small detail that Jimin actually didn't notice and it totally sends him over the edge a few hours later when the others all leave for their chores. That is, if Jin, Jungkook, and Taehyung have gone shopping, and Namjoon and Hoseok have gone off to do god knows what in Seoul--that means Jimin is alone in that big house by the sea together with Yoongi. Yeah, fuck.

The sea is gray and rough, the clouds move restlessly anticipating the arrival of a storm. Jimin feels he wants to laugh at the irony of the situation, as if the weather itself has decided to tease him. He needs to practice, needs to dance. He wants to feel the air rush through his wide, worn T-shirt and caress his bare skin. He wants--another notification on his cell phone catches his attention.

Jimin looks at the gloomy screen, reads the message.

Be careful. He must not notice anything.

"Are you worried about work?" the voice of Yoongi behind him jerks him up. Jimin turns off his cell phone and puts it back in the pocket of his baggy jeans. He turns to look at Yoongi, his pullover wrapping around his chest, his hips tightened by a sleek belt, his dark, slightly flared pants giving him a more grown-up look and making him seemingly slimmer than Jimin, even though he is barely an inch taller than him. Yoongi is beautiful, seductive. And Jimin definitely needs to stop staring at him.

"Yeah. I don't like it," he goes back to looking at the rough sea beyond the window.

Yoongi nods and, very slowly, steps forward to flank him, as if to give Jimin time to retreat. But Jimin doesn't, even though he wants to, even though his body reacts instinctively by feeling on edge.

"We'll find Jihun soon and he won't be a problem anymore."

Jimin huffs, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "Do you hear yourself when you talk? You're talking about murder, Yoongi."

A shadow crosses Yoongi's face. "This is what I am."

"Yes, I get it now.”

"Good", Yoongi murmurs. "Because from now on I have stopped lying to you."

Taken aback, eyes slightly wide, Jimin turns again to face the other. He nods. He prefers it that way when it comes to Yoongi because he doesn't trust his own voice. Yoongi's face is an impassive canvas, with a slight tinge of intensity that sends Jimin over the edge. Why the fuck does he have to look at him in that intense way every time? Like he's trying to communicate something fundamental to him?

"You'll perform on that stage. You will perform on many stages, I'm sure".

Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. "Like you care."

"What do you mean?", Yoongi arches an eyebrow, confused.

Jimin shrugs, but it's more of a defensive gesture than a dismissive one. He doesn't want to go down that road, but he can't back down now. "You rarely came to my performances," he says without an accusatory tone, however.

"But I came six months ago," Yoongi admits.

Jimin sucks in a breath, his brain activating to make sense of those words. "Impossible."

"The show you performed in at the National Theater last spring? I was there."

"Don't," Jimin fidgets, makes to leave but Yoongi blocks him by grabbing his wrist. "You were wearing a thin white shirt and tight pants with buttons on the sides of your legs. You even had a shiny wreath in your hair--I don't know, you looked like a fucking prince and you were beautiful.”

Jimin glares at him, feeling that familiar sense of fury tickle his chest and threaten to rise to the top of his head. "You're lying."

Yoongi shakes his head. "I told you, I'm not lying anymore." 

Jimin grits his teeth, scrutinizes him for a sign that the other is lying again.

"I came to beg you. I thought 'enough now I'll go there and beg him to listen to me. I beg him to come back to me because I-'", Yoongi leaves the sentence hanging, as if it hurts him to continue. Jimin cannot bear it, Yoongi has no right to. Not now.

"Bullshit. Let me go," the boy tugs his arm to free himself from Yoongi's grasp, opens the French window, and closes it with a snap.

The wind hits him in the face. Jimin breathes again, noticing only now how stifling the air was in the house. The thunderstorm is coming but he doesn't care; the whole world can collapse at that same instant as far as he is concerned. Jimin walks on the sand and has his back to the house, trying to chase away that feeling of discomfort that pervades his body. Fucking Min Yoongi.

He angrily grabs the speaker left on the chair by the unlit bonfire the night before and activates it, choosing a song. Jimin stretches his arms, then flexes his legs. At first he is stiff, his movements seem mechanical, but it is just stretching and will surely get better as time goes on.

He loves the song he has to perform on, from his first listen he has been enraptured by it and whenever he starts dancing he lets the synthpop music take over, the sultry sound, the beats that slowly rise higher and higher telling a story of despair, a love struggling to survive, to be risen from the ashes. Jimin feels his muscles relax as the first notes of the song waft from the speaker and his feet in the sand begin to move almost unconsciously. 

Something, however, holds him back. His words cannot get out of his head. Yoongi can’t say that and think he can get away with it, not with that husky, deep, breathtaking fucking voice. Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing to him? Is he clueless or just cruel? Jimin would like to scratch his skin with his fingernails to make him stop. To make him hurt.

“Don’t", Jimin orders to himself. A raindrop brushes his cheek, thunder warns him that the show is about to begin.

And so he begins to dance.

Walk through the fire with you

'Cause I know how it can hurt

Being cut in two and afraid

He knows that Yoongi is watching, standing in front of the French window. Jimin does not look at him, but he feels it. He is simultaneously thrilled and annoyed by the idea of how his gaze on himself turns on Jimin's body to the point where he almost loses control of it. As if Yoongi is actually dictating the movements of his body, like a ruthless puppeteer pulling the strings of his puppet. 

The rain covers his dance, soaking Jimin's body, blessing him, scratching him. Intoxicated by the sensation, the dancer does not notice that Yoongi has opened the French window and with quick, ungainly steps, is reaching for him.

"Jimin-ah, come back inside, it's pouring," Yoongi shouts, his eyes half-closed because the rain is blurring his vision.

You'll find redemption when all this is through

Father, forgive me for finding the truth

Love takes its toll on me

I'm just like you

Maybe it's heavenly

"You'll get sick like that, don't be stupid!" he keeps shouting furiously, but Jimin ignores him. In fact, he challenges him. He opens his eyes and continues to dance undaunted, Jimin is inviting him to dare to stop him, stop him from moving.
Look at me, come, try if you want, he shouts with his eyes as with perfect technique his body sways, breathes, sings.

Yoongi knows too well what Jimin is doing and finds himself completely awestruck, in the rain, just a few meters away from him. He feels his body go numb, unable to do anything in the face of that vision. He is annihilated, defeated, his shoulders slump imperceptibly, and the rain engulfs him. Jimin looks like a god bathed in heaven. His personal god.

"I was not lying," he suddenly shouts now completely drenched, trying to make his way through the noise of the rain and the music, his voice deep but unsteady. Yoongi feels like crying. "I-I lied to you many times, Jimin, but not about this. Never about this."

Jimin hears this. He doesn't know how, but somehow the words reach his ears and make him falter.

So don't break

Sanctify my body with pain

Sanctify the love that you crave

Oh, and I won't, and I won't, and I won't be ashamed

Sanctify my sins when I pray

The music ends, but not Jimin's personal torment. Now that his fatigued and trembling body calms down and slows down, now that his performance can no longer save him, Jimin must come to terms with reality. He must face it. 

So, still panting, he looks up at Yoongi, paralyzed in a grimace of sadness, and realizes that nothing is gone. The chills on his body are still there, the fear, excitement, pain, and desire have not been exorcised. And perhaps never will be. Yoongi is begging him. And Yoongi never begs.

"Ugh, fuck this," murmurs Jimin, voice hoarse and indisposed, as he suddenly runs up to Yoongi in the middle of the beach to seal their mouths in a kiss. A violent, unexpected kiss, which forces Yoongi to recoil when Jimin squeezes him out of utter, greedy desire. From the surprise Yoongi immediately recovers, squeezing Jimin's hips in a desperate grip. Their tongues meet again, celebrating by intertwining and wrestling and making peace simultaneously. 

When they pull apart, their labored gasps blur, their eyes lock, talking and yelling at each other. Yoongi does not let permission or fear stop him this time. With one hand he grabs Jimin's neck and brings their mouths together again with the same arrogance, the same desire.

In a few minutes they are back in the house, locked in the four walls where their moans and labored sighs echo loudly.

"This," Jimin says, tilting his head to allow Yoongi to kiss him on the neck. "Doesn't change anything."

"Yeah," Yoongi is beside himself, moving his hands eagerly all along Jimin's body as if he doesn't have enough time. 

"I still hate you," Jimin gasps when he bangs his back on the glass window door.

"Yeah," Yoongi runs his hands through the boy's hair, squeezes and pulls almost violently, but careful enough not to hurt him. 

"You still disgust me.”

"Okay, now shut the fuck up," Yoongi shuts his mouth with a messy, disheveled, aggressive kiss. Their bodies, despite their long distance, still seem to know each other perfectly, to know what and when to touch to make moans and guttural sounds come out of their mouths. Yoongi tries to break away from Jimin's grip, but the other anchors around Yoongi's neck, as if to keep him in place. He is not thinking, not lucidly at least. He feels that he can no longer control anything, feels that he no longer has any shred of survival instinct. He is falling and, like a fool, he is not thinking about how much the fall will hurt.

Jimin's urge burns so strong that he can feel it in his brain, mixed with pain and anger. And it's not a game against himself, nor a challenge of the forbidden, it's not even masochism. It's love, unfortunately. Love that rips his body in two, from the guts up. Leaving dead and wounded on the ground, first his heart. The fire burns, uncontainable, and no one calls for help.

But what burns is not the fact that Jimin could no longer have his lifelong love. What burns is the innocence. So brazen, so real, so tangible. The innocence of having given himself to him without really knowing who he was. The innocence now lost, because Jimin was giving himself to Yoongi again, this time aware of who he is. His innocence, in the face of the first man he had loved, was as genuine and crystal clear as it was irritating and unacceptable. A shameful thing on which life itself depended. For Park Jimin had savored the man's tenderness, intelligence and acumen. He had the privilege of marrying him and the condemnation of having his heart broken.

Yoongi's hands descends on the elastic of his pants and with a sharp gesture turns Jimin around, cheek against the cold window pane, back slightly arched to make his body fit with Yoongi's chest. 

"You're so, so beautiful," the man whispers to himself. Jimin squints, but wishes he could cover his ears. His palms pressed against the glass help him keep his balance, but when Yoongi begins to pull his pants down, Jimin fidgets.

"No-no," he gasps, and Yoongi freezes. Jimin takes the opportunity to break free from his grip and turn around. Now it's his back that is pressed against the window. "Not here," Jimin says. And he doesn't need to add more because Yoongi knows what those words imply. Not here where we have already done it. Not here where there are memories of when we loved each other and were happy and didn't stop fucking because of it.

Yoongi swallows. "You want to stop?" there is a tragic insecurity in his voice.

"I didn't say that." Jimin kisses him again, this time without the same frenzy, as if he is too tired to struggle. Yoongi takes this as an invitation to start again, only this time the two of them reach Yoongi's room, low and unbalanced, until the inside of Jimin's knees make contact with the edge of the bed.

And then, again, here comes the burning desire. With much eagerness and little patience, Jimin pulls up Yoongi's pullover almost pulling some hair off his head in order to hurry, in order to get his hands on his chest.

"Always impatient, huh?", Yoongi jokes.

"Huh?" Jimin slows down and Yoongi uses the distraction to tackle him to the bed with a light push. Jimin is startled, a surprised yell leaves his lips as he finds himself pinned to the mattress, Yoongi hovering above him. It's an all-too-familiar feeling and position that makes Jimin hold his breath.

Taking advantage of the way Jimin seems to catch his breath and settle into that situation, Yoongi begins to leave kisses and small bites all over his body. His neck, the small dimple under it, with his tongue he brushes a nipple of the boy who arches his back and releases a small moan. From the sudden spasm, Jimin also instinctively raises one knee, awkwardly hitting Yoongi's rib cage. "Ouch."

"Shit, sorry," Jimin raises his head at the same time Yoongi lowers it, "Wait-" ...and they hit each other. They are a mess of entwined limbs, hot skin and desire. Their foreheads brush as they take breaths and it's then that they burst out laughing. They're so ridiculous and this is suddenly so hot Jimin thinks that he can self-combust.

"We've always been a mess at this," whispers Yoongi, and Jimin can only agree. But then they look at each other, air around them shifts, turning heavy and sensual again. Jimin lets out a shuddering breath. Without ever taking his eyes off Yoongi he begins to undress, his hands shaking and Yoongi watching him as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world, even though his movements are clumsy and awkward.

Jimin flushes with desire, the redness spreading down his neck and up to the tip of his ears. 

“Why are you staring at me?”, Jimin asks in irritation. Yoongi smirks and kisses him again. They kiss for what seems like an eternity, can't get enough of each other, their hands caressing, causing each other to moan until the bulge in their underwears is impossible to ignore. When Yoongi takes his hardening cock in his hands, Jimin thinks he might die.

“Shit”, never let me go.

“Do you like it?”

"Y-Yes," Jimin moves his hips in sync with Yoongi's hand. He is already so ready and wet that he would not be surprised if Yoongi did not need to prepare him.

"You are the most seductive creature I have ever seen," Yoongi murmurs in his ear as he continues to touch him and stroke him, up and down tightening his grip.

The point is this: Jimin had a praise kink all his life. Yoongi knows this very well; they have had three years to explore that aspect of their relationship in bed. But what has always made Yoongi different from other partners is his choice of words. He doesn't whisper random compliments, he uses specific, unique words that drive Jimin so crazy that he could only cum because of them.

“Jesus, Yoongi, c—come on”, Jimin begs him. 

Yoongi smirks watching his husband displayed there for him. Stop touching him is out of the question, Yoongi thinks he might die of heartbreak if Jimin decides to stop everything out of the blue. 

"Open your legs," the man orders him. Jimin doesn't let him say it twice: even though he feels them heavy, he opens his legs and lets the boy on top of him settle there. But the more impatient and irritated Jimin gets, the slower and gentler Yoongi is, as if he wants to punish him. Jimin can't stand it. He can't stand how in such a fragile and intimate moment, he's so eager to be ruined by Yoongi.

The boy closes his eyes as the other suddenly begins to tighten his grip on his cock and pump him faster.

"W-wait," Jimin whines, fidgeting in the covers, his hands clenched between the sheets.

Yoongi stops and Jimin releases a loud sob. With one hand, now the man begins stroking the bulge in his own underwear, while he brings the fingers of his other hand into Jimin's mouth, inviting him to suck on them. The boy licks Yoongi's fingers without hesitation, looking into his eyes as he circles the fingertips of his index and ring finger with his tongue, liking the idea of driving him crazy. Anyone might think that Yoongi's expression is impassive, stern, but Jimin knows every little twitch of his face, knows full well that that little twitch of his lips means he is holding back from moaning in pleasure. Wow, Jimin is so aroused that he could come in that instant without any doubt.
At this point they won’t even need lube.

Then Yoongi pulls his fingers out of Jimin's mouth, and the boy feels a pang in his chest from missing them. Yoongi lays his eyes on his saliva-soaked fingers, then slowly brings them to the inside of Jimin's thighs until they reach Jimin's entrance, making the boy shiver. "Please," Jimin begs. Yoongi does not wait and gently inserts first one finger, then two, in and out, with chilling slowness. Jimin no longer cares if he has any pride or dignity, he opens his mouth, tilts his head back and moans louder.

"You're killing me," Yoongi murmurs with shortness of breath, his voice low and hoarse. "Talk to me.”

"I-I want more," Jimin hears himself say a few seconds later.

"Like this?" asks Yoongi as he towers over him, forehead to forehead, never stopping the rhythm of his fingers in and out of Jimin.

"No," Jimin shakes his head, seeking Yoongi's mouth to bite and suck on it. "I want you."

Yoongi smiles against his lips. "I don't understand, you need to be more clear."

Jimin moves his pelvis against Yoongi's fingers to chase the pleasure. "Fuck me, Yoongi." 

And that's enough for the other to go crazy. Even Yoongi, in fact, no matter how much better he is at pretending otherwise, can't wait any longer, his hard cock throbbing in pain. "Fuck me or die," Jimin whispers again, and Yoongi lets out a giggle. 

"God, you're so beautiful."

Yoongi pulls his fingers out, Jimin instinctively moans about the lack of friction and the cold air that immediately makes him feel empty. But not for long, for Yoongi enters him before he can moan again, making Jimin gasp in surprise. Now, Yoongi has ceased to be gentle, there is no trace of sweetness in his thrusts, only bloody lust and violent desire. Jimin had missed him so much. The feeling of feeling full, perfectly interlocked with Yoongi like two pieces that only find peace once reunited. He feels tight, no matter how much sex he may have had in recent months, it was never like when he was with his husband. It was never like when Yoongi hold him and entered him. 

The union of their bodies seems to last a lifetime. The two continue to whisper prayers, requests, dirty words and sweet compliments to each other. They do not stop moving in rhythm, each into the other calling loudly for the pleasure that threatens to envelop them soon. Their foreheads brush as they take a few breaths in their chaotic pleasure, and it's in that moment that Jimin says. "I missed you." 

He no longer has any shame or control over what he says or feels. His words seem to trigger an even more desperate reaction in Yoongi as his rhythm increases and soon becomes erratic, disjointed, animalistic. Jimin clings with his nails to his back, whispering indecent prayers and shameless proposals to him. He hasn't felt so complete in he doesn't know how long, nothing and no one has ever been able to live up to their sexual complicity. "You're so good-to me. So perfect."

Yoongi's fingers hold him in, restrain him. He should hate this, but he doesn't, he always loved to lose control for him. Jimin is completely his for the taking, vulnerable and so stupidly ready to come undone for Yoongi. He feels Jimin treble beneath him, close to release. His tighs shaking a little, the cock inside him pressing against him so well.

"I am," he says swallowing up his needy moan. "I'm--"

Jimin thinks he can break at that very moment. He feels his orgasm growing in his chest and taking away his ability to breathe. He strains to keep his eyes open so he can see the moment when Yoongi, now lost in pleasure, climaxes. 

"Let me hear you scream, Jimin-ah."

The way he so endearingly and tenderly pronounces his name is the last stroke Jimin needs to reach the climax of pleasure and shamelessly scream Yoongi's name, which, after one last thrust, joins him in heaven. Or to hell, for that is after all what they both probably deserve.

Wrung out by spasms, eyes misted with the last wave of pleasure, the sound of happiness coming out of their lips in urgent prayers. 

Yoongi slumps wearily on Jimin's chest, trying to regain his breath, while Jimin closes his eyes, welcoming that warmth he didn't know he needed, so welcoming and suffocating at the same time. They do not speak for a few minutes, but the silence of the room is invaded by their thoughts. Then Yoongi rolls off Jimin's body - it's awful, he already misses it - and lying on his back, one hand resting absentmindedly on his bare chest, he points his eyes to the ceiling. Jimin, however, has never been good with post-sex silences, and he's certainly not ready to lock himself away in his head already full of accusations and grievances, so he turns to the side, resting an arm under his head and looks at Yoongi with tired but steady eyes.

The boy's profile is perfect, not because it is symmetrical or delicate, but because it is such a familiar image that his chest tightens at the idea that it was once all he saw almost every day. We used to be so happy, he thinks. Then Yoongi makes a small, almost imperceptible grimace, wrinkling his nose.

"What's wrong?" whispers Jimin.

"Nothing, it's my usual headache."

"You're not invincible," Jimin finds himself saying, surprising himself by making that very choice of words. And well, Yoongi gives a small bitter smile because he knows better. He doesn't feel invincible at all in that moment. He feels weak, tired, maybe even a little sad. Jimin can't stand the idea. Before he can stop himself, he brings the thumb and forefinger of his hand to the tip of Yoongi's nose and begins to massage it.
For a fragment of a second, the boy stiffens, but it is short-lived because in no time his grimace disappears from his face and his muscles relax. For a while they stay like this, silent as Jimin massages the bridge of his nose making small, circular movements. With his fingers, he touches for a moment the beginning of the thin scar across Yoongi's eye. Before he can restrain himself, he gently traces the rough path of that slightly sloping line, feels under his fingertip Yoongi's eye tremble slightly.

"What happened?" he doesn't need to be specific, the other knows very well what he is talking about. Yet seconds pass but Yoongi says nothing, and when Jimin now seems convinced that he will receive no answer, Yoongi finally opens his mouth.

"I didn't want to see anymore," he says simply, in a painfully impassive way, the implication of those words as big as a house. It hurts. It hurts to imagine for a moment that perhaps that wound is not a consequence of who Yoongi is, of what Yoongi does. But a consequence of their love, of his own heartbreak. Did he inflict it on himself? Jimin withdraws the fingers that suddenly began to burn.

There are so many thoughts and memories running through his mind, so many words he should or would like to say, some mean and cruel - because the anger is still there inside him - others incredibly tender and loving.

Jimin takes a deep breath. "I need to get out.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, turns to look at him bewildered. "What?"

"I'm going crazy in here. I want to go to Gangneung Namsan Park."

His words go unanswered for a few seconds, Yoongi stares at him blankly with his sharp, piercing eyes, and Jimin is almost sure he has decided to ignore him when the other man sits down on the bed, his back to him.

The feeling of lack and emptiness that hits him the moment Yoongi turns away from him makes Jimin feel like a pathetic mess. They shouldn't have done it, it shouldn't have been this way.

"What are you doing?" he then asks him with a hint of irritation when he notices that the other is typing something on the phone. 

"I texted Jin not to worry if they don't find us in the house when they come back," Yoongi says, closing the phone and turning back to look at Jimin.

The boy blinks, confused. "So we're going out?" he asks almost hopeful.

Yoongi nods. "I need you to accompany me to a place first.”