
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11894493.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Min_Yoongi_|_Suga/Park_Jimin
  Character:
      Park_Jimin_(BTS), Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Jung
      Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga's_Parents
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Camboy_Park_Jimin, Bottom_Park_Jimin, Smut, Producer
      Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, AU, Abuse, Sexual_Violence, Physical_Abuse, yoongi_to
      the_rescue, Original_Character(s), Angst, Jimin_doesn't_speak_Korean,
      Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Emotional_Manipulation, Anxiety,
      Sarcasm, Park_Jimin-centric, Underground_Rapper_Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap
      Monster, Producer_Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Domestic_Violence, Violence,
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Adoption, Confinement, Pseudo-Incest, Self-Worth
      Issues, Park_Jimin_Sings_Like_an_Angel, discussion_of_suicide, Past
      Suicide_Attempt, Underground_Rapper_Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Underage
      Drinking, Mentioned_Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin, Mentioned_Jeon_Jungkook,
      Depression, Major_Character_Injury, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Top_Min
      Yoongi_|_Suga
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-24 Completed: 2017-12-29 Chapters: 19/19 Words: 85026
****** Break Away ******
by autumnjade
Summary
     AU. Jimin had been orphaned at a young age. He was passed around
     foster care for several years before eventually getting adopted. He
     thought he’d finally found a family to call his own, but as the years
     passed, his adoptive parents grew apart, then separated, and he was
     left with his adoptive father. Still, he didn’t realize how big of a
     problem this was until his father pulled him out of school at the age
     of seventeen…and forced him to become an internet camboy. A couple
     years later, just as his life was about to take a turn down an even
     worse road, he was offered a chance to break away. But would it even
     be possible at this point?
     12/30/2017 COMPLETED!
Notes
     Wow, this story turned into way more than I intended originally. I
     was just going to have it be a quick one-shot, but then I just kept
     writing, and getting more and more ideas…I haven’t written anything
     this lengthy in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Please
     check the tags if you are a sensitive reader and are easily offended
     or triggered.
     This takes place in the US, but I purposely don’t specify which
     State, because the laws vary from State to State on the compulsory
     school age, and when I looked it up I was surprised that so many were
     all the way to 18. (I’d assumed it was 16 when I started writing this
     story, and intended for them to live in California.)
***** Prologue, Chapter I *****
Chapter Notes
     Wow, this story turned into way more than I intended originally. I
     was just going to have it be a quick one-shot, but then I just kept
     writing, and getting more and more ideas…I haven’t written anything
     this lengthy in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Please
     check the tags if you are a sensitive reader and are easily offended
     or triggered.
     This takes place in the US, but I purposely don’t specify which
     State, because the laws vary from State to State on the compulsory
     school age, and when I looked it up I was surprised that so many were
     all the way to 18. (I’d assumed it was 16 when I started writing this
     story, and intended for them to live in California.)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Prologue. 
 
Jimin had been orphaned at a relatively young age. He’d been passed around
foster care for a while before he was eventually adopted at the age of eight by
a young couple. The couple seemed nice enough at first, but as Jimin got older,
they seemed to argue more and more often. Eventually his adoptive parents
separated, and his mother left Jimin with his father. Jimin was sixteen at the
time.
Throughout the following year, Jimin slowly began getting a weird feeling
whenever he was around his father. He couldn’t really pinpoint exactly what it
was. They still played video games together. They still fought over who had to
cook dinner (neither one was particularly skilled in the kitchen, thanks to his
mother being the one to prepare meals over the last eight years). They still
teased each other over their choices of drinks from Starbucks. Jimin preferred
simple iced coffees with milk and sugar, while his father always ordered
complicated versions of drinks—iced, double-shot espresso with one pump of
whichever flavor he was into that month, skim milk, no make that whole milk
today, not too much ice....
And maybe it was just Jimin’s imagination, but he felt like his father was
looking at him differently. Not unkindly, not angrily, but differently. And it
gave him goosebumps sometimes, because even if he didn’t yet understand what
the looks were, his instincts did. Every time he caught his father looking at
him with that intense, pensive stare, he could feel himself retracting into
himself, trying to make himself smaller, or covering up himself with his
overlarge sweaters or hoodies. Doing that didn’t seem to help, though, because
then the looks would just turn warm, and his father would laugh and ruffle his
hair, pat his cheek, or playfully tap him on the butt as he walked by.
 
The most obvious change was that his father asked him to start calling him by
his first name, instead of “Dad” (or “Pops,” when Jimin was feeling like a
little shit teenager and just wanted to get a rise out of him). He claimed that
he felt old when Jimin called him ‘Dad’ and that he wasn’t even that much older
at 35 years old, so Jimin began calling him ‘Chris.’ He didn’t really mind,
actually. It was kind of cool, even. He’d bragged to his friends about it, but
they’d just made fun of him, calling him a ‘daddy’s boy’ and saying that only
parents insecure about their ages asked their kids to call them by their actual
names. It was true, somewhat, so Jimin stopped bringing it up.
 
But then Chris began canceling Jimin’s afterschool activities like dance and
choir. He canceled his registration for the winter driving class. He entirely
avoided the topic when Jimin suggested getting a part-time job after thinking
that Chris was struggling with bills and the extracurricular class fees now
that there was only one adult providing for the house. His mother had worked
full time in addition to his father to contribute to their income, and they had
lived comfortably.
Instead, he suggested that Jimin begin working out with him at home, join him
on his evening jogs, and eat more healthily.
(“Are you calling me fat, Chris? Because that’s not something you should be
saying to a teenager who already has low self-esteem when it comes to
appearance.”
 “What? No, of course not, Jimin! You’re beautiful. Don’t say that. I just
thought we should try to live a little healthier now that Zoe’s not around to
take care of us.”
“If you say so. And don’t call me ‘beautiful.’ Makes me sound like a girl.”
“Boys can be beautiful, too, Jimin.”)
Then, a few weeks after Jimin turned seventeen, Chris pulled Jimin out of
school—literally unenrolled him from school all together—and everything went to
hell.
Chris took his cell phone and laptop away. He put a lock on the outside of
Jimin’s bedroom door. Granted he hadn’t used it yet, but the sight of it gave
Jimin the chills.
That first evening, dinner was strained. Jimin fidgeted, and pushed his food
around his plate. Normally he would have confronted Chris by now, shouted at
him in anger, or even started slamming doors in frustration. But his instincts
were on high alert, and he was suddenly terrified. The man who had raised him
for eight years, whom he had once called Dad, whom he loved with all his
heart…now felt like a stranger.
 
I.
 
He was right to be terrified.
His father sat back down at the table after Jimin had finished washing the
dishes from dinner, and he placed an expensive looking video camera between
them along with his laptop, and a sheet of paper with a list written upon it.
Then, with the tone of explaining how to hook up a DVD player to a TV, Chris
told him that from now on Jimin would be a camboy. He explained, as if Jimin
didn’t already know what that meant, that he would have his videos uploaded
onto a gay porn site, and they would get money from it. Chris said he couldn’t
help noticing how attractive Jimin was becoming, and that his soft features and
high voice would be very popular. Chris assured him that in the beginning, he
would only film solo videos, in dim light and with his face obscured in case
any perverts from Jimin’s school recognized him and reported him for being
underage.
Jimin wanted to spit out that the only pervert he should be worried about was
sitting right in front of him, but he kept his lips sealed, and sat on his
hands to keep from throwing the camera across the room. This had to be some
kind of sick joke.
Then Chris swung the laptop around and showed him the website they would be
using. He had done his research. With the air of a businessman giving a seminar
for a proposal, he led Jimin through the site, opening up a few videos here and
there, talking about camera angles and sound equipment, backgrounds (they would
use the guestroom, which didn’t have any identifying elements which could be
traced back to them), and how they would get paid for all of this. Jimin
grimaced at some of the things he saw.
“Will I have to…do that?” he swallowed in a tight throat, feeling like his
dinner was trying to push its way back up his esophagus. He pointed vaguely at
the currently paused video of two young men fucking on a bed.
Chris smiled. “Not until you’re eighteen,” he replied, as if he was doing Jimin
a favor. “Don’t worry,” he added when Jimin blanched, “we’ll make sure you’re
plenty ready before then.
“I—” Jimin felt himself gag suddenly, and he jumped to his feet, knocking over
his chair as he bolted into the kitchen to throw up in the trash. When he was
finished, he rinsed out his mouth in the kitchen sink and splashed his face
with cold water. He walked back into the dining room.
“What’s wrongwith you?”
“What? Jimin, I’m just making good use of our resources here to make our lives
more comfortable.”
“And that resource is what, my fuckable-ness? I can’t believe you!”
He started to storm off toward the front door, not really sure where he
intended on going, but needing to get out of the house and away from his
father. Before he could get to the door, though, he felt a hand close over his
arm.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
He gasped, and stared up at Chris’s dark eyes.
“Let me go.” The grip tightened, starting to hurt. “Let me go!” He kicked out,
but then felt his head jerk to the side as Chris used his free had to smack him
across the face.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Jimin, but I will if I have to. You can make this
easy, or you can make it hard.”
 
They made the first video the following night. It didn’t go well, as to be
expected.
“I, I can’t, not with you watching me! This isn’t going to work, I swear.”
Jimin sat up on the bed, facing the direction he knew the camera was standing,
but unable to actually see because of the black blindfold around his eyes. He
was dripping in sweat from Chris kicking up the heater to an obnoxious
temperature, and with no clothes on to absorb the sweat, he could feel it
running down his back and legs, probably soaking the bedsheets.
“It’s not like I’m your real father,” Chris pointed out. “I’m just another man,
behind the camera.”
“Gross. You raised me.”
“Zoe raised you. I just hung out with you and helped pay for half of your shit.
I’m not your dad. Never was.”
Jimin bit his lip, holding his hands clasped in his lap, covering his crotch.
“I wanted to go easy on you the first time, and let you just jerk off like I’m
sure you normally do on a regular basis, but if you can’t get it up, I might
have to provide you with assistance.”
“Assistance?!” Jimin squeaked, voice cracking. “What—”
“A vibrator, obviously. I’m not touching you myself, geez. Just because I can
appreciate your body doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you, Jimin.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Jimin yelped when something small hit
him on the chest and bounced into his lap. He picked it up, making a revolted
face.
“What the hell? What’s this?”
“A vibrator.”
“Why’s it wet?! Ugh. Nasty.”
“That’s called lube, Jimin,” Chris deadpanned. Jimin’s rude remarks were
normally something he enjoyed, but his patience was clearly growing thin. “Turn
it on, and use it.”
Jimin took a deep breath, and found the button on the end of the device. It
buzzed to life, and to Jimin’s relief, it didn’t seem too strong.
“There are three settings,” Chris explained. “It’s like a bike light; you have
to go through the settings to turn it off or on. Okay, now I’m going to start
filming you again.”
The room was suddenly silent except for the soft buzzing of the vibrator.
Biting his lip, Jimin lay back and tried to stroke himself again. He felt
awkward, queasy. He’d watched porn before, and it always looked sexy. He didn’t
feel sexy. He took the vibrator in his other hand and used it to draw circles
on his lower abs, jolting a little from the sensation. Then he moved it farther
down, hesitating slightly before rolling it along is dick. He sucked in a
startled breath. It felt good?!
He tried to forget that he was being watched. He wanted to get this over with.
So he pretended that he was in his own bed in the middle of the night, and he
touched the vibrator to his dick again, longer this time, and a shudder ran
through his whole body. His head fell back on the bed, and he couldn’t help the
tiny whimper that broke through his lips.
Eventually the video was finished, and Jimin curled up in a humiliated ball on
the bed as Chris put everything away.
“Good job,” he told Jimin kindly, which just made the teen want to pull into
himself even more. “It’s just your first time, so it’s bound to be like that.
You’ll get used to it.”
 
As the months went on, Jimin—for better or for worse—did get used to it. He
adjusted what he did according to some of the comments posted, and he became
desensitized to Chris’s presence behind the camera. He also turned out to be a
natural; he was very good at pleasuring himself, and just as Chris had
predicted, the viewers loved the sounds he made.
Jimin constantly thought about running away, escaping, but he never had a
chance. He had no idea if his friends had even tried to get in touch with him;
if they had, Chris hadn’t told him. And his father never let him out of his
sight unless he was locked up. It wasn’t as if Jimin was trapped in the house
24/7, though. He and Chris still went out for lunches and dinners, to the
grocery store together, even to the movies on the rare occasion. But whenever
they got into fights, he threatened Jimin with blackmail if he were to try to
escape; he’d anonymously tell potential employers what he did, he’d tell
Jimin’s friends what he did…all with the implication that Jimin would be
abandoned and rejected in each case. He knew how fragile Jimin’s self-
confidence was, and used it to his advantage every time.
Before he knew it, Jimin’s eighteenth birthday was approaching. Eighteen was
usually an age everyone looked forward to. But he was dreading it.
The anxiety was so bad that he threw up his entire birthday dinner and cake,
and couldn’t stop retching all night. He was ill for the next three days, lying
in bed and unable to do much of anything. He dropped two kilos just from not
eating. But Chris didn’t let him carry on for too long. On the fourth day, he
dragged Jimin out of bed, forced him into the shower, and tossed some clothes
at him.
“Come on. Get your ass in the car, Jimin. I’m not waiting all day.”
The apartment seemed normal from the outside, but once they entered, it was
clear that no one actually lived there. It was solely used for shooting videos.
Jimin unconsciously clung to Chris’s side when he saw the man who would be his
partner, the man who would take his virginity. Chris ran his hand through
Jimin’s currently ginger-orange hair before gently pushing him forward.
“It’ll be fine, Jimin. He’ll be nice. Won’t he,” he directed the final sentence
toward the young man leaning against a dresser.
“Sure,” the man smiled, letting his eyes roam over Jimin’s body in interest,
which was completely covered by jeans and a large sweatshirt. “I’ll show you a
good time, baby, don’t you worry.”
Jimin’s legs gave out, and Chris caught him just before he hit the ground.
“P-please don’t make me,” Jimin whimpered, trying to hide his face in Chris’s
chest. He was pushed away.
“Grow up, Jimin. It’s time to be professional about this,” he said sternly.
“First time?” the man asked, clearly knowing the answer before Chris confirmed
it. “Fun. But you gotta relax, babe. It won’t be fun otherwise.” He gestured
for Jimin to come closer, and he stumbled slightly toward the man. He was tall,
and Jimin felt unbelievably small next to him.
“Relax.” The man was surprisingly gentle when he wrapped his arms around Jimin
and stroked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like it when my bed partners
cry,” he said matter-of-factly, wiping away the first tear that had leaked down
Jimin’s cheek. “It’s a major turn off.”
Jimin took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his
cheek against the man’s hard chest.
“That’s it, easy. You’ll be fine.”
“Ready to get this show on the road?” Chris interrupted obnoxiously.
True to his word, the man was gentle, and relatively slow and patient, but by
the end of the recording Jimin’s face was streaked with tears, and his throat
was raw from crying out in pain.
 
Yet just as he had eventually grown used to the solo videos, he eventually got
used to having filming partners. Sometimes his partners were repeated, but
often it was a new man each video. Each time Chris brought Jimin out to be
fucked in front of the camera, he never knew what he would be met with.
Although most were what Jimin would call normal; passionate but gentle…some of
the men were violent; choking him or hitting him, or leaving such strong
hickeys that they actually drew blood to the surface. Sometimes he had two
partners at once, and on more than a few occasions he had been forced with
double penetration. That probably topped his list of things he hated most; not
only was it not pleasurable to him at all during the act, but it was extremely
difficult for Jimin to walk properly afterward. More times than he could count,
Chris had to carry Jimin out of the apartment or hotel room and into the car.
 
His life continued like this for another year and a half. Then something
happened that would once again change his life completely.
Chapter End Notes
     Noooo, Jiminie!
     I was originally planning to go into detail during his very first
     video and with a partner (aka his first time)...but I realized I
     couldn't bear to. I don't have a problem writing other uncomfortable
     scenes later, but I just couldn't bring myself to write those two
     scenes when he's younger. Btw...we meet Yoongi in the next chapter! I
     haven't yet decided if the other BTS members will appear...maybe
     they'll have little cameos here and there, but they're not essential
     to the story at the moment, so we'll see.
     I've got a few more chapters written already, but I keep going back
     and forth adding/editing things, and although I have a general
     outline for the rest of the story, I can't guarantee when I'll have
     time to write, so I hope you don't mind if the updates aren't super
     frequent.
     Thanks for reading!
***** Chapter II *****
Chapter Notes
     Finally Yoongi makes an appearance! Can't have a Yoonmin story
     without him!
     Just a warning, the descriptions of (unwanted) sexual activities are
     much more graphic in this chapter. Please take care reading.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
II.
One morning while picking up coffee on the way home with Chris after a
particularly violent overnight recording, Jimin could feel eyes on him when
they were waiting in line. He glanced up at the brown-haired, sleepy-eyed
barista behind the counter, who was staring right back at him. He looked like
he was about Jimin’s age; he couldn’t be more than a few years older than him
at most. By his expression, he’d clearly noticed the bruises and cut lip, the
way Jimin was limping, and how his silver-blond hair seemed to be plastered to
his forehead by sweat despite it not being especially hot that day. Jimin
stumbled as his father gave him a little shove when the line moved and Jimin
stayed still. His stomach dropped. The barista had probably even noticed the
controlling way that Chris pushed and directed Jimin through the line.
He made eye contact with Jimin again, silently questioning him, flicking his
eyes up to Chris and back. Jimin subtly checked to see if Chris was looking at
him before pursing his lips and giving the smallest nod possible. He saw the
barista’s eyes widen slightly. He also glanced to check where Chris was looking
(the menu board overhead), and then mouthed ‘bathroom’ to Jimin. Jimin
swallowed nervously and pulled his hands inside his sleeves. When they got up
to the counter and ordered their drinks, the barista—Yoongi, his name tag
proclaimed—asked for both of their names rather than just his father. He
quickly wrote the names on the cups before ringing them up.
Jimin nudged Chris. “Um, I need to use the restroom.”
The older man looked irritated rather than suspicious, which was a relief.
“Can’t it wait until we get home?”
“No, it’s kind of, uh, urgent,” he half whispered, acting like he didn’t want
Yoongi to hear, even though he definitely could.
His father sighed. “All right, but be quick. We’re leaving as soon as the
drinks are ready.”
Jimin nodded and started to pull away.
“You’ll need a passcode for the restroom,” Yoongi spoke up. “Hang on, we just
changed it and I don’t have it memorized. Go on back and I’ll look it up for
you.”
The second Jimin met Yoongi in the back hall, he had to grab the other man’s
shoulder to steady himself. His legs were about to give out, and to his horror
he also felt something sticky leak out of himself, soaking into his boxers. He
was still unbelievably loose down there.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, wiping at his sweaty bangs.
“Is that man abusing you?” Yoongi asked as he helped support Jimin’s weight.
“What are these injuries from? Do you need me to call the cops?”
“I—no, it’s…he didn’t touch me. It’s complicated.”
“It can’t be that complicated. He’s either involved in some way, or he’s not.
Which is it?”
Jimin opened his mouth, closed it, and swallowed. He had difficultly holding
eye contact with the barista. He felt like he would pour out his soul if he
did. He unconsciously leaned into Yoongi’s touch, which luckily was
misinterpreted as faintness.
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit? I—”
“Jimin?” they suddenly heard Chris’s voice call out around the corner.
“Fuck.” With a burst of adrenaline, Jimin grabbed Yoongi and pulled him into
the multiple-stall bathroom (Yoongi keyed in the code in a split second),
shoving the door shut quickly. A moment later there was a sharp knock.
“Jimin?Are you in there? We need to get going.”
Knowing there was no way they could safely exit the bathroom without arousing
suspicion now, Jimin hissed quickly in Yoongi’s ear.
“Just play along. Please.”
Before Yoongi could ask what he meant, Jimin fell back against the door with a
dull thud and then moaned loudly. Yoongi opened his mouth in shock and looked
like he was about to say something, so Jimin pulled him hard against him and
kissed him roughly. He used one hand to tug at his own clothes, disheveling
them and undoing his jeans. He continued to let out high moans and gasps,
bumping his body against the door. He took Yoongi’s hands, which were frozen at
his sides, and thrust them into his hair.
The knocking got louder. “Jimin, you open this door right now!”
Jimin let out a loud broken moan, along with a breathy but loud, “W-wait, no,
stop,” and then immediately hissed to Yoongi, “Quick, what’s your cell?” He
took the pen and notepad from Yoongi’s uniform pocket; he hadn’t had his own
cell phone since Chris took his away two years ago. Yoongi quickly jotted down
his number, and Jimin slipped the piece of paper deep into his jeans pocket.
Then he straightened up, messed up Yoongi’s hair a little, and then swung the
door open just as he pulled Yoongi in for another deep, sloppy kiss. Yoongi
groaned into his mouth and clutched both sides of his face. Jimin smiled into
the kiss and then pulled away with an obnoxiously wet noise.
“Sorry, Chris,” he apologized to his father, buttoning and zipping his jeans
back up and straightening his shirt. He turned to Yoongi and quickly fixed his
hair and made sure his uniform wasn’t out of place.
“This is what was so urgent? You little slut, I should have known.”
Jimin shrugged. “You made me this way,” he said defiantly. He gave Yoongi a
little shove back toward the staff door, but didn’t let go of him. “Go back to
work, darling,” he grinned, and then leaned up to suck and bite on his earlobe,
causing a shudder to course through the barista. “Keep your phone on you.
Please.”
“All right, all right, that’s enough. Take your coffee and let’s go, Jimin.”
 
After they got home, Jimin showered thoroughly and pulled on his most
comfortable cotton sleep pants and a loose t-shirt despite it being nearly one
in the afternoon. He headed downstairs to find something to eat for lunch.
 
“Hey, Jimin, I was thinking.”
It was mid-afternoon. Chris was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his cell
phone, and Jimin paused as he walked through the living room.
“’Bout what.”
“After seeing your little escapade today, I was thinking we could even rent you
out for private sessions. If we get clients to pay enough—you’re practically a
celebrity, after all—it’d really make bank.”
Jimin felt his stomach drop for the second time that day, but for an entirely
different reason. “Um. What kind of clients? I hope not smelly old men.”
“Nah, we don’t want to do that if we plan on recording the sessions. I was
thinking we’d set up a camera or two in the room, leave you two – or three,” he
chuckled, “who knows; we could double the price for threesomes – anyway, leave
you guys alone, and then post the edited video afterward. See, right now your
partners are getting paid just like we are, but if we offer out your services
to paying clients with the understanding that it’ll be posted online, it’s win-
win for us. I’m sure loads of your viewers want to have a piece of you, and
they’re the kind of sick bastards that would want others to watch them fuck you
afterward.”
Jimin stared at him for a long time, silent. He had long perfected the art of
showing no emotions on his face. He wanted to scoff at the “we,” in that
sentence, since they both knew that Jimin wasn’t getting a dime from this. But
he remained still and silent.
“So, what do you think?” as if he had a choice.
“I guess. If you think it’d work.”
Chris smiled up at him warmly. “Fantastic.” Then he gestured to Jimin to come
closer. “Come on, why don’t you watch a movie with me, like old times?” He
pulled Jimin to his side, curling his arm around his waist and lying back on
the sofa as he picked up the remote to see what was available on Netflix. Jimin
took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, letting his body relax.
Like old times. He used to love his adopted father. Before he started calling
him by his first name. Before he had changed. Before his mother left. Jimin
still didn’t know what had happened between them.
 
Midway through the movie, Chris’s left hand began to wander from where it had
been resting against his hip, arm curled around Jimin’s back to hold him close.
First it was just gentle strokes along Jimin’s side, almost calmingly, but then
his hand went lower, palming his dick through his pants. After a few minutes of
seemingly unconscious massaging, in which Jimin’s breathing became more uneven,
he slipped his hand into Jimin’s underwear to wrap his fingers around his
length. Jimin bit his lip and momentarily squeezed his eyes shut, willing
himself to stay quiet, to not react. Chris had never touched him like this
before. Why now? He opened his eyes and tried to pretend he was still watching
the movie, even though he couldn’t concentrate on the screen at all. Chris’s
movements were slow and languid, almost kind, if it weren’t for the context of
their situation.
Jimin was still pretty sensitive from earlier, but his body had grown so
accustomed to multiple rounds and hardcore sex that he found himself hardening
despite his discomfort. Chris shifted slightly on the sofa, pulling Jimin
partway onto his lap, and then his right hand joined his left in Jimin’s
underwear. Jimin couldn’t hold in the small gasp when his right hand began to
massage the area directly behind his balls, and when a thick finger pushed
back, wiggling a bit before plunging into his entrance, Jimin choked out a
cross between a sob and a whimper.
“You like that, don’t you,” Chris murmured against his ear in a low, dangerous
voice. He didn’t wait to increase the number of fingers, going straight to
four.
Jimin panted around a pained groan. “Lube. Please. Oh god. Fuck. I can’t. Lube,
please, please, please.”
Chris removed his fingers and brought them up to Jimin’s mouth. “You know I’m
not going anywhere now,” he pointed out sharply.
Jimin knew there was no point in protesting, so he quickly took Chris’s fingers
into his mouth and did his best to get as much saliva on them as possible. The
second Chris felt like it was enough, he immediately thrust his dripping
fingers right back into him. Jimin let out a loud cry, jolting on the sofa.
Chris’s thrusts got stronger and stronger, and the volume of Jimin’s cries
gradually increased. The movie was forgotten.
Chris groaned, shifting again on the sofa, as if he wasn’t comfortable. “I
don’t know why the hell I’ve never bothered with trying this before,” he said,
taking his left hand off of Jimin’s dick to momentarily force Jimin’s head
around so that he could suck on his throat. He simultaneously pushed his
fingers into Jimin’s mouth and began playing with his tongue, squeezing and
tugging it, folding it this way and that, rubbing his middle finger down the
middle toward his throat, purposely hitting Jimin’s gag reflex multiple times;
every time Jimin gagged, he clenched around the hand in him down below.
Chris’s right hand was now fucking deep and hard, pressing against Jimin’s
prostate each time. The teen was writhing, bucking his hips up against the hand
inside him.
“Ugh, you’re so fucking hot,” Chris growled, suddenly moving and throwing Jimin
down lengthwise on the sofa, changing the angle of his thrusting hand. Jimin
came with a rough cry, the front of his gray shirt darkening where he sprayed.
Once again showing his inconsideration for Jimin’s pain, Chris continued to
thrust into Jimin even after his release until Jimin was babbling incoherently,
tears streaming down his face.
When Chris finally pulled his hand out, it was only to then pull his own dick
out of his pants and begin jerking off over Jimin. He came all over Jimin’s
face, and he must’ve thought the image was so sexy that he had to grab his
phone off the coffee table and snap a few pictures. One zoomed out, several
close ups from different angles, and one ten second video panning up from the
mess on the front of his shirt to Jimin trying to catch his breath.
“Fucking slut,” he smirked, admiring his handiwork as he put his phone away.
“We’re definitely gonna have to do that more often.”
 
Jimin lay on the sofa long after Chris left to do who knows what in another
part of the house. He stared up at the ceiling and willed the tears to stay
inside his tear ducts. He didn’t want to move, couldn’t move, and he wished he
could just melt into the sofa cushions, drip toward the floor, sink through the
floorboards, and plunge into the earth. Maybe he would feel free then.
He fell asleep, slept the entire afternoon away, missed dinner, and then
finally around nine, Chris woke him up.
“You need to sleep in your room, kid.” Kid. As if he had a right to call him
that after what he’d done to Jimin earlier.
“Can’t move,” Jimin muttered in his most petulant tone of voice.
Jimin was carried upstairs to the bathroom, where Chris gave him a quick once-
over with a washcloth to clean off any of the remnants from his tryst with him,
held him upright as he brushed his teeth, and waited just outside the door as
he used the toilet. Then he carried Jimin to his room, where he was left locked
up until morning, as usual.
As he lay back on his bed, Jimin thought about how he was going to get in touch
with Yoongi. And once he did, what could he possibly do? There was no way Jimin
could get away from Chris. But he had to at least try. With tonight’s new
development, it was even more crucial that he escape. Otherwise he would spend
the rest of his life as nothing more than a literal sex slave. He usually only
filmed once, maybe twice a week, so he’d always had recovery breaks for his
body. But with Chris’s new-found interest in him, and his plan to rent him out,
Jimin might never have a day of rest.
Jimin mouthed the numbers of Yoongi’s cell to the ceiling. While he’d been in
the bathroom to shower before lunch, he’d taken the piece of paper out and
memorized the number before soaking it in water until the ink ran and it was
nothing more than a glob of tree pulp. He couldn’t risk Chris finding the
number. Also, this way Jimin would be prepared if he suddenly had access to a
phone.
Chapter End Notes
     Well I apologize if that was as uncomfortable for you to read as it
     was for me to write.
     Also, I get so tired of BTS members being written as baristas, but
     honestly it was the only plausible occupation for Yoongi if the story
     was to work out the way it does, so…I’m sorry. :P But I don't regret
     the little make-out scene in the bathroom, hahaha. I was trying not
     to laugh while writing it.
     Until next time!
***** Chapter III *****
Chapter Notes
     This is the chapter I was most excited for! Funny thing is it turned
     out way different than I originally imagined when starting this
     story, but I like how Jimin and Yoongi seem to write themselves, lol.
     Oh, and thanks for the kudos! I don't really understand what they are
     (haha I'm so bad at this), but I assume they're basically AO3's
     version of the 'like' button, so that's super cool. :) Seeing them
     really encourages me to keep writing!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
III.
 
His chance came sooner than he had expected; Chris was true to his word about
renting Jimin out like a common whore, and after Jimin had been thoroughly
fucked out in the dark hotel room a few days later, he noticed the stranger’s
cell phone lying next to the pillow, just under the sheets. The man had left it
there after setting an alarm for the morning. Jimin grabbed it and held it down
at his side, away from the view of the cameras as he slipped out of bed and
stumbled to the bathroom.
He stuffed a towel against the crack in the door to block any light or sound,
and then he switched on the tap to add more white noise just in case.
No one answered on the first try, and Jimin momentarily panicked that he’d
memorized the number incorrectly, or that Yoongi had given him a fake number.
But then he remembered what time it was, and tried again. On the fourth try, a
raspy and groggy voice answered.
“What the fuck, who is this?Do you fucking not know what time it is?”
“Yoongi, it’s Jimin. Do you remember me?” Jimin whispered as quietly as he
could, but loud enough for Yoongi to hear. He heard shuffling on the other end,
and suddenly Yoongi’s voice became clearer, more awake.
“Jimin? Oh my god, I thought something horrible had happened to you. Why
haven’t you called until now?”
“I don’t own a cell phone,” he explained, twitching his leg nervously as he sat
on the edge of the tub. “I’m using someone else’s phone right now.” He took a
shuddering breath, and winced slightly when he inadvertently pressed the wrong
spot against the tub. “Look, I need your help, but I don’t know what you can
even do to help. But I need out.” His voice cracked on the last word.
“Where are you right now? Can I come get you?”
Jimin panicked slightly. “No, no, you can’t. I can’t. There are cameras. He’ll
find us.”
“Cameras?”
“Y-yeah. Look—”
“Are you locked up right now or something?” Yoongi hissed, obvious anger in his
voice
“Not, not really?” It ended up as more of a question than an answer. “I’m in a
hotel.”
“What hotel? I’ll come get you. I don’t care. This isn’t right, Jimin. I don’t
even know what that shit of a man’s making you do, but I know it’s not right,
and you don’t deserve it. Now tell me what hotel.”
Jimin heard more rustling, and the jangle of keys. Yoongi was serious.
“Jimin?”
He swallowed, feeling nauseous. “I, I don’t have any…clothes,” he trailed off,
humiliated. Chris had taken his clothes with him when he’d left Jimin alone in
the room before the stranger had arrived, just in case he tried something very
much like what he was about to do. Jimin had never tried to escape before, but
Chris wasn’t dumb.
There were a few agonizing seconds of silence on the other end, before Yoongi
spoke up again, voice calm. “I’ll bring you clothes. Don’t worry. Just tell me
where you are.”
Jimin told him the name of the hotel and room number. He told him that if he
saw anyone lingering near the door, to stay away. And he reminded Yoongi to not
contact this number because it wasn’t his phone. Yoongi promised he’d be there
in about forty minutes to an hour, depending on traffic at that hour. It was
just past three-thirty in the morning.
Jimin deleted the multiple phone calls from the call history as soon as he hung
up, and returned the screen to the menu it had been on when he’d found it. He
silently left the bathroom and slipped back into bed, replacing the phone in
the exact place as before.
The stranger mumbled in his sleep and then rolled over, nearly crushing Jimin
with his heavily muscled body. There was a quiet chuckle, the rumbling
vibration transferring to Jimin’s skin underneath.
“Hey there, babe,” the man murmured, opening his eyes. “How ‘bout another round
before they kick me out?” he leaned down and kissed Jimin roughly. “Want my
money’s worth, after all. You’re not cheap.”
Jimin wasn’t sure if he could handle another round so soon, but he smiled
seductively and said, “Sounds like fun.”
The man threw off the sheets and pushed Jimin’s legs apart, immediately
thrusting into him, forcing a startled cry from Jimin’s lips. Belatedly, he
reached over to the bedside table to grab the bottle of lube, and pulled out
momentarily to squirt a large portion into his hand. He slathered half of it
onto his flushed cock, the other half all around and just inside Jimin’s rim.
Then he wasted no time before pushing back in.
Jimin would never admit it aloud, but he loved the disgusting, wet, squelching
sounds during sex when his partners went overboard with the lube. Maybe it was
because whenever they did that, he wasn’t in nearly as much pain both during
and afterward, so the sex was more enjoyable. Either way, it made him horny
like nothing else, so he pulled the man down to kiss him greedily, moaning
loudly and licking into his mouth as he rutted desperately against the thick
cock inside him.
After several minutes the man twisted their bodies so that Jimin was arched
back over the side of the bed, hanging limply with his head inches from the
carpet, hands sprawled uselessly on the floor. He wasn’t used to this angle,
and he started to feel dizzy from the blood rushing to his head as the stranger
pounded into him. He heard roaring in his ears, and then all sound disappeared.
Suddenly he woke up, feeling cold tiles against his body, a similarly cold and
wet washcloth being pressed against his face. He opened his eyes to see the
stranger crouched next to him, looking uncharacteristically concerned. Jimin
groggily sat up, feeling like he was going to vomit. His neck hurt.
“Wha’appened?” he slurred. What time was it?
“You blacked out. I didn’t even realize.” The stranger looked genuinely
apologetic, and lifted the washcloth to his face again. “Your boss isn’t going
to have me arrested, is he? It’s all on video, even. Maybe I should just
delete—”
“No,” Jimin interrupted quickly. “Don’t delete it. It’s not a big deal if I
black out during sex. Happens on a regular basis,” he added dryly.
“You’re kidding. Wow.” He paused. Then, “That’s…kind of hot, I gotta admit.”
Jimin snorted. “Why, was it fun fucking my limp body?” He regretted the words
as soon as they were out of his mouth; Chris repeatedly had told him he wasn’t
supposed to make fun of the clients’ kinks.
Luckily the stranger didn’t seem to mind the jab. He leaned down close to
Jimin’s ear. “Yes, yes, it was,” he whispered, and then began sucking on
Jimin’s earlobe. He moved down to suck at Jimin’s Adam’s apple, and then back
up again to shove his tongue down Jimin’s throat.
“God, I can’t believe how fucking hot you are. So small, and ridiculously
beautiful, just like one of those Asian pop stars that everyone’s talking about
lately.” He pumped Jimin’s dick. “And those sounds you make.”
Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the hotel door that made both of them jump.
“Room service,” Jimin heard Yoongi’s ‘customer voice’ call out, and he pushed
down the sigh of relief that threatened to spill out.
“The fuck?” the stranger hissed, scowling. “I didn’t order room service. And at
this hour?”
“Oh,” Jimin breathed, pretending that he’d just remembered. “They didn’t tell
you? We scheduled for room service to come in the middle of the night with a
bottle of wine. It’s part of the whole package,” he smiled, sliding his hand
down the stranger’s torso and squeezing his dick softly. “Go ahead, open the
door.”
“All right, fine. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, why don’t you,” he
trailed off suggestively and took Jimin’s hand, straightened his fingers (there
was another knock on the door), and shoved them deep inside himself. Jimin
couldn’t stop the wretched moan from leaving him, and the man, clearly
overwhelmed by the noise, bent down to attack his mouth and yank Jimin’s wrist
out only to punch his whole fist into Jimin in such rapid succession that Jimin
came very shortly after with a loud, broken cry.
The knocking had grown incessant.
Swearing and letting Jimin collapse back onto the tile, now covered in semen,
the man rinsed his hands and threw on a bathrobe before walking over to the
door—thankfully leaving the bathroom door open. Jimin struggled to get up,
still feeling weak from his loss of consciousness, and now barely able to feel
his legs beyond the pain inside.
He was vaguely aware of the sounds of a scuffle, the outer door slamming shut,
and then the dull, hollow sound of something heavy presumably being knocked
against a skull. A quiet but heavy thud followed, and Jimin held his breath,
muscles tense, propping himself up on the edge of the tub. Yoongi was nearly as
small as Jimin, and the stranger was packing muscles. He didn’t have much of a
chance.
“Jimin?”
He let himself slump against the tub in relief. Yoongi’s quiet, rough voice was
the best thing in the world.
“In here,” he called, just as quietly. He knew the cameras were still
recording, and the super sensitive audio settings could likely pick up their
voices if they spoke too loudly.
Yoongi stepped into the bathroom, wearing red and black high tops, jeans ripped
all the way up his skinny thighs, and a black bomber jacket over a gray hoodie.
And although he wore a mask and a black snapback presumably to hide his
identity, Jimin could still see the horror in his eyes. Jimin took in all of
this in less than a second.
“Oh my god, Jimin.” Yoongi reached out automatically for him, but hesitated, as
if he wasn’t sure where he should touch, if he should touch at all. Jimin
lifted his arm up.
“Help me up. I can barely move,” he groaned.
Yoongi visibly swallowed and immediately grabbed his hand, hauling him up to
sink gingerly onto the closed toilet lid. Jimin couldn’t hide the grimace, and
Yoongi looked very uncomfortable, trying to keep his eyes above his shoulders.
“Can you,” Jimin took a pained breath, “can you wet that washcloth and hand it
to me?”
A few minutes later, Jimin was relatively clean, and dressed in comfy gray
sweatpants, a white t-shirt, a black hoodie with savage words in white print,
“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT when you’re busy being a moron, I will simply BURY YOU
ALIVE in the grave you dug out yourself,”* and even sneakers that fit him
pretty well. Yoongi glanced back into the entranceway and proclaimed the man
still unconscious. Apparently he’d knocked him over the head with the heavy
umbrella stand by the door.
“Right, let’s get out of here before he wakes up,” Yoongi whispered nervously.
Jimin felt a rush of panic. This was happening. It was really happening. He
hadn’t thought any of this through. What was he going to do once he left? He
had no money, no ID, nothing. He didn’t even know a single thing about Yoongi,
other than where he worked. He could be a serial killer for all Jimin knew,
although his instincts told him differently. He felt his breath leaving him,
and he tried to hide his face, specifically his watering eyes.
“I can’t, I can’t walk,” he mumbled, leaning heavily against the bathroom sink.
“Then I’ll carry you on my back. I’m not as weak as I look,” Yoongi chuckled.
“I used to play basketball.” He walked over, turned his back to Jimin, and
crouched down a bit. “Come on. We need to hurry.”
Jimin wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and hissed when Yoongi reached
back to pull his legs up higher on his back for better leverage.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he apologized immediately.
“It’s fine. Let’s go.”
 
They didn’t pass anyone on the way down to the lobby, and when the overnight
receptionist gave them an odd look, Jimin forced out a goofy smile and told him
Yoongi had lost a bet. They were given an amused shake of the head in response,
and told to be careful outside.
“You’re a quick thinker,” Yoongi muttered, sounding impressed. “Nice and
natural.”
It turned out that Yoongi drove a scooter, and he only had one helmet, so he
let Jimin wear it. The drive seemed to take forever, but the wind rushing by on
the expressway felt so refreshing that he didn’t even want to complain. Soon
they were on back roads again, and it was clear that this is why it had taken
Yoongi so long to reach the hotel. Low speed limits, stop signs on every block,
and one-way streets all over the place. Finally, they pulled into a small block
of apartments, and Yoongi killed the engine. Jimin had to be helped off of the
scooter, but he refused to let Yoongi carry him again.
“Just go slow,” he muttered, and held onto Yoongi’s arm as they carefully
headed over to his apartment door, which luckily was on the first floor.
Yoongi’s apartment wasn’t big, but it wasn’t a shoebox. Jimin’s first
impression, which he accidentally vocalized, was, “You live here?” because
honestly it didn’t look like living space. It looked like a recording studio.
Multiple monitors and speakers, mics for various kinds of quality, an 88-key
keyboard, a soundboard…stacks upon stacks of loose papers and notebooks…and
empty coffee cups hidden in almost any space imaginable. “Where do you sleep?”
Yoongi chuckled, and pointed up. “Up there. It’s a loft.”
“Oh.” He sat down on the small, two-person sofa, which also had several
articles of clothing tossed across the back. There was a moment of awkward
silence, before Yoongi asked him if he wanted anything to drink.
“I’ve got water, soda, beer…um are you even old enough to drink?” Jimin blushed
and shook his head. “Wait, how old are you?”
“Nineteen,” Jimin said quietly.
“Fucking hell,” Yoongi dragged his hands down over his face. “How…how long has
this been going on?”
“Two years.” Jimin didn’t take his eyes off of the floor. “I’m sorry. If you
don’t want to be involved, I understand. I’ll leave.” He made to stand up, but
Yoongi was faster.
“What the hell? I never said anything about not helping you. Where’d you get
that idea? Sit your butt down and chill out for a fucking second. I’m just
trying to understand what’s going on.”
“It’s a long story,” Jimi avoided.
“Yeah, I’d think so,” Yoongi sighed, and checked his watch, blanching at the
time. “You don’t need to tell me everything right now, but if I’m to help you,
I’ll need the basics. BUT,” he cut off whatever remark Jimin was about to say,
“right now you should sleep. I’ll get you a glass of water. You look
dehydrated.”
Jimin thanked him, pulling his legs up to his chest out of habit, and continued
to look around. His own room had nothing to indicate his own personality
anymore, so it was almost liberating to see so much of Yoongi’s personality
being showcased by the things in the apartment.
Yoongi handed him the glass of water, which Jimin polished off almost
immediately. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been. Yoongi gave an amused
huff. “You want another?” Jimin shook his head, but thanked him again.
“You can take the bed. It’s almost time for me to head to work, anyway.”
“You’re leaving?” Jimin swung around sharply to look at him, feeling his
stomach tighten.
“Yeah, sorry, I’ve got an opening shift today,” Yoongi grimaced. “You can stay
here and sleep. It’s not a problem, really. Eat whatever you want from the
kitchen. I’ll try to bring back some proper food when I get off work at two.”
“I, are you sure?” He fiddled with the sleeves of the hoodie. “You don’t even
know me. How do you know I won’t steal something if you leave me here on my
own?”
Yoongi gave him a hard look. “The fact that you’re worried about me not
worrying about it just proves that you aren’t the kind of person to steal from
me.” Jimin didn’t want to say he was right.
Yoongi helped Jimin up the steep ladder-like stairs and pointed out where the
light switches were, and where the bathroom was down below. Then he announced
that he was off to work or he’d be late.
“Yoongi?” Jimin spoke up, voice suddenly urgent, and the other man paused on
his descent. “If Chris comes into the coffee shop, pretend you don’t remember
him from the other day. He’s going to be freaking out when he finds out I’m
gone, and if he makes any connection to you, we’re both in deep shit.”
Yoongi snorted. “You think he’s going to be picking up coffee if he’s busy
freaking out about you?”
Jimin shrugged. “You never know. I’ve never tried running away before. I can’t
predict how my dad will react anymore.”
“Wait, what?! Your dad? Chris is your dad? What kind of fucked up—”
“He’s not my real dad,” Jimin muttered. Even though he’d think that was obvious
from the fact that Jimin was Korean and Chris was definitely not. Even though
he used to wish he was his real dad. Certainly not anymore. But the habit was
still there.
“Step-dad?”
“Adopted. My real parents died in a car accident when I was four. I can’t even
remember them anymore, though.”
“Shit.” Yoongi suddenly remembered the time. “Just go to sleep. I’ll be back as
soon as I can. Try not to think about too much.”
Jimin listened until the front door clicked shut, and then he lay back on the
comfy mattress. He snuggled into the hoodie, breathing in the calming scent of
what he assumed was Yoongi. For the first time in a year and a half, he felt
safe. Taking the other man’s advice to heart, he didn’t allow his brain to
think about anything, and soon he fell into the deepest and most satisfying
sleep he’d had in a long while.
Chapter End Notes
     * English translation of lyrics to ‘Agust D’ (I couldn't help tossing
     a bit of that in, lol. Did you notice it?)
     Ready for the Yoonmin?? Sorry, I think this is going to be a slow
     burn fic. I will think about it a little more before adding that tag
     if that's how it seems to be going. I promise it won't be too slow,
     though, because I don't plan for this story to be tremendously long.
     Also, so far this has all been from Jimin's point of view, but there
     is one specific scene coming up in the near future that I realized
     belatedly I'd been planning from Yoongi's POV...so I'll have to
     rework that somehow so it doesn't lose the very important plot-
     related stuff, since I prefer this story to be told entirely from
     Jimin's POV. It would be jarring to suddenly switch POVs, and I don't
     like when fics do that when it's been one person all along until
     then.
     Sorry for rambling! And thanks for reading! (
***** Chapter IV *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
IV.
 
It seemed like only a second later he awoke to the sound of someone rummaging
around downstairs. Tense, and a little frightened as his brain slowly caught up
and reminded him where he was, Jimin slowly crept to the edge of the loft and
peeked down into the kitchen area. He let out a sigh of relief. It was only
Yoongi. He glanced at the alarm clock—it was already nearly three in the
afternoon. Had he seriously slept close to nine hours? He felt…refreshed. It
was just a little bit amazing.
Yoongi glanced up as Jimin climbed down the steps and joined him in the
kitchen.
“There you are. I thought it was really quiet in here. Did you just wake up?”
he smiled warmly at Jimin’s half-awake appearance.
“Yeah. Are you sure you actually went to work? You didn’t just fuck with me by
switching the clocks forward?” That earned him a laugh.
“Wish I’d thought of that. But no, I did actually slave away for eight hours.”
“Did…” Jimin trailed off, afraid of the answer he would get if he asked his
question. But it seemed like Yoongi had read his mind.
“Did the douchebag come in to get his coffee? Yeah, he did, actually. You were
right. But he was on his phone the whole time, texting back and forth with
someone. I don’t know if he even noticed me, other than to be rude about the
long line. I should have spit in his coffee.”
“Probably texting about me.” Jimin leaned against the counter. “Something
occurred to me, actually,” he began slowly. “So there were two cameras in the
room last night, both filming all night. And I realized that the last thing
they would have filmed of me is the guy bringing my unconscious body to the
bathroom.”
Yoongi frowned, and looked up from the fridge where he’d just placed a carton
of milk. “You blacked out?”
“Yeah,” Jimin said nonchalantly. “He fucked me over the side of the bed and I
guess that was too much for my body to handle after all he’d done already.” He
ignored the cringe from Yoongi. “I woke up in the bathroom, so I assume he
carried me there.”
“So what are you saying? That it’ll look like he did something to you and is
trying to cover it up?”
“Maybe. But it still won’t make much of a difference if he finds me, or somehow
makes a connection to you. It just might keep him off our backs for a little
while.” He went on to explain how this had been the first time he’d been hired
out rather than just filmed with fellow camboys, so his client would probably
be put under a lot of suspicion. He didn’t voice his thoughts about whether
Chris was worrying about his safety right now.
“But I knocked him out with the umbrella stand, remember? They’re going to know
someone else—”
“It could have been me, though,” Jimin argued. “I could have fought him after
waking up in the bathroom—”
“What about the knocking on the door? I knocked pretty hard.”
Jimin gave a humorless smile. “I wouldn’t worry about that; I was a bit loud in
the bathroom. I bet even you could hear me from the hallway.” He saw Yoongi
swallow tightly and grip the counter hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He
didn’t look comfortable hearing about Jimin’s sexual activities.
 
Over the course of the afternoon, Jimin learned more about Yoongi. His full
name, first of all, was Min Yoongi. He said it backwards, family name first,
which confused Jimin for a split second, thinking that Min was actually his
first name. They were both of Korean heritage, which Yoongi admitted to being
just a little part of the reason why he had bothered reaching out to Jimin that
day at the coffee shop. Jimin mentioned that he’d actually been born in Busan,
according to the translation of his birth certificate, but he couldn’t remember
any Korean other than the obvious words everyone else knows. Like ‘annyeong
haseyo’ and ‘kimchi.’ Yoongi said he’d originally thought Jimin had been
kidnapped.
Yoongi was twenty-two, done with university—he’d taken online courses—and he
was a music producer and underground rapper. The barista-ing was just to pay
for bills and supplement the cost of expensive equipment. He couldn’t afford a
studio of his own, so he’d turned his apartment into one. Not ideal, but
“beggars can’t be choosers,” he’d shrugged.
After his little introduction and more thorough tour of the apartment, Yoongi
sat Jimin down on the sofa and leaned back in his workstation chair, folding
his arms as he stared down at the teenager, who was now in a new set of
Yoongi’s clothes after taking a refreshing shower. It was odd wearing someone
else’s clothing, but luckily they were nearly the same size. Yoongi’s jeans
were a little snug around his thighs, and his shirts were loose on his
shoulders, but overall they were comfortable, and Jimin wasn't about to
complain.
“We need to figure out what we’re going to do,” the older man started. “As much
as it’d be nice to just chill here for a while, we’ve gotta be realistic. I
know this’ll probably be hard for you, but I need to know what you’ve been
involved in if I’m gonna figure out a way to help you.”
Ironically, it wasn’t hard for Jimin to recount his past two years. It seemed
to be worse for Yoongi to listen to; his grimace had multiplied tenfold by the
time Jimin was done telling him about his shitty life. Out of consideration,
Jimin tried to refrain from going into too much detail, but there were of
course some things he couldn’t avoid. Yoongi looked furious when Jimin told him
about Chris assaulting him on the sofa the other day.
“That fucker, I’m going to fucking kill him,” he growled, kicking a shoe across
the room.
“Please don’t,” Jimin begged. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And I don’t
want the police involved.”
“Jimin, he should be locked up for what he’s done to you.”
"I know, but I just don't want to get anyone else involved." 
He didn't say that he still struggled to hate Chris. It didn't make sense even
to himself, but although he hated what his life had come to, the truth was that
seventy percent of the time his life with Chris had been pretty good. There
were the times when Chris was an inconsiderate bastard, and then there were the
times when he would give Jimin head massages, or make his favorite food, or
take care of Jimin when he was sick, like he was the most precious thing in the
world. So no, Jimin couldn't bring himself to want to put Chris away. 
"Well, what do you want to do? You're on the outside, now." Yoongi took a
breath. "Now what?"
Jimin was silent. Yoongi was right; he couldn't just camp out at Yoongi's
forever. He'd need to get a job, get a place of his own, make a life of his
own. There was just one problem, and Yoongi was about to vocalize it.
“Do you know your Social off the top of your head?”
“My what?”
“Your Social Security Number. You have one, right?”
Jimin shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t remember it. I’ve only ever needed it
once, when Chris took me to get my State ID last year so I’d have something if
we needed to fly to another city.”
Yoongi's expression didn't change, something Jimin was starting to realize was
one of his traits; not showing what he was really thinking.
"You need your Social. If you plan on getting a job, if you want to open a bank
account, or get an apartment.... You need a Social for all of that."
"Shit."
"Yeah. I think the only way we’re going to get that stuff is if you steal it
back. Do you know where it is in your house?”
“Maybe. I assume it’s in his office, or his bedroom, with my birth certificate
and adoption papers and whatnot. I guess I could try breaking in when he’s not
home.”
"When is he usually not home?"
"Well, he's got a normal job too, so sometimes he's at the office, but he works
from home a lot."
 They decided to take a few days to figure out how to go about getting Jimin's
identification papers. He apologized to Yoongi for mooching off the older man,
but he was shrugged off.
"Don't worry about it. I can afford to have a guest for a bit."
 
They ate Korean-style ramen (or ramyeon, as Yoongi called it) for dinner,
sitting cross-legged on the floor with the pan set between them. Yoongi was the
most stereotypical bachelor, lacking in proper dishes and utensils. But Jimin
found himself enjoying the experience. Growing up with average Americans, he
almost never ate ethnic food, unless Mexican food counted (he didn’t think it
did), and he’d never experienced cooking food with people his age. When he told
Yoongi he’d never tried kimchi, the other man looked like he was nearly having
an aneurism. Then he pulled out a Tupperware container of kimchi that his mom
had given him recently. His parents lived two cities over, and ran a relatively
popular Korean restaurant.
“I’ll have to bring you there one day. But first, try this!”
He held a large piece of kimchi between his chopsticks, hovering in front of
Jimin’s face. Jimin barely had a chance to open his mouth to ask if it was
spicy before the fermented vegetables were shoved into his mouth, red sauce all
over his lips and cheek.
It was slimy and squishy, but crunchy at the same time. And yes, it was spicy,
but not overwhelmingly so. Jimin licked his lips and rubbed the smeared sauce
from his face, sucking it off his fingers.
“Good?” Yoongi was smiling warmly at him, and Jimin felt his insides twist a
little. He nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never met a Korean who doesn’t like kimchi,” Yoongi smirked.
“That’s racist,” Jimin retorted, smiling.
“Oh, shut up. It’s not if I say it.”
“Why, because you’re Korean?”
“Yes, and it’s true.”
Jimin just shook his head, and popped another piece into his mouth before
taking another slurp of noodles. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been
so happy.
 
Much later that evening, Yoongi announced he was heading to bed. He had an
early phone call to take care of in the morning, he said. He tossed Jimin a
plain, long-sleeved shirt and sleep pants to change into. Jimin hesitated by
the sofa after he’d finished washing up and then brushing his teeth with the
toothbrush Yoongi had bought him. He sat down as he saw Yoongi begin to climb
up into the loft.
“What are you doing?” Yoongi had stopped midway up the stairs and was staring
down at him.
“I…. Don’t you want me to sleep here tonight?”
“Not unless you want to? That sofa is fucking uncomfortable to sleep on. I
swear I won’t make any moves on you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. I trust you,” Jimin said quietly. He stood up.
“You don’t mind?”
“Course not. I’m not about to make you sleep on that thing. Come on up.”
After following him up the steps, Jimin watched Yoongi awkwardly settle onto
the mattress, scooting over to one side to give Jimin plenty of room. He
couldn’t tell if Yoongi didn’t want to be near him because he was uncomfortable
with the closeness, or if he thought he was being considerate of Jimin's
personal space. He remembered their staged make-out session in the coffee shop
restroom, and inadvertently glanced at Yoongi’s mouth. Despite what Yoongi
said, Jimin wouldn’t say no to kissing him again. But that wouldn’t be
appropriate in this situation. He couldn’t just take advantage of Yoongi like
that. There wasn’t even anything to prove that Yoongi would be interested in
that, anyway. All of his actions could have been playing along with Jimin,
nothing more.
Jimin rolled onto his side and tried to fall asleep. He wasn't all that tired
after sleeping the day away, and his brain was still working a mile a minute.
He kept his breathing quiet and listened to the soft shuffling as Yoongi tried
to get comfortable.
"I'm sorry ahead of time if I kick you in my sleep," Yoongi muttered into the
darkness. "I'm not used to having anyone in my bed, so I have no idea if I
sprawl in my sleep."
Jimin smiled. "That's okay. I'll try not to be a koala."
"What?"
"I like curling up around things in my sleep. Chris used to call me a koala."
Yoongi didn't respond, and Jimin thought he'd said the wrong thing. But then
Yoongi sighed and shuffled one more time.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Yoongi," he replied, feeling warm in his chest.
 
Jimin woke up wrapped in warmth, a subtle, calming smell in his nose. He
mumbled nonsense words and snuggled closer to the warm body, burying his face
into the softer part of the solid mass. When he felt an elbow knock into his
shoulder, his eyes snapped open and he realized his face was smooshed against
Yoongi's side, just below his ribs, probably pushing uncomfortably into his
diaphragm.
"Fuck!" Jimin yelped, throwing himself backwards and hitting his head hard
against the low ceiling of the loft. He clutched his head, tears springing to
his eyes, as Yoongi grumbled and opened his eyes.
"What's your problem?" he deadpanned. "The alarm hasn't even gone off yet. Go
back to sleep." He smacked his hand against the mattress in emphasis.
Heart hammering in his chest, and head throbbing, Jimin silently creeped back
to where he'd originally been sleeping. He couldn't get his breathing to slow
down, though, and he was starting to feel a little light-headed when Yoongi
spoke again, this time more gently, eyes closed. 
"I really don't mind, you know. If it helps you to sleep better that way."
Jimin swallowed in a tight throat, and cautiously slid across the mattress
toward Yoongi. Then, feeling like he was about to dip his hand into a pot of
boiling water, he curled up against the other man's side in the same position
as before. He was positive Yoongi could feel how tense he was, and sure enough,
a moment later Yoongi's arm came down around his back, his long, piano fingers
pressing into his shoulder. Jimin let out a shuddering breath, and went limp.
"There. Feel better now?"
"Mm," was all he could manage, and nodded into Yoongi's side. He let himself
clutch a fistful of the other's t-shirt, and soon he was drifting off again.
 
The second time Jimin woke up, he was more prepared. But he wasn't quite
prepared for the panic alarm-like sound coming from Yoongi’s cell phone. He
covered his ears with his hands and whined loudly.
“Turn it off! Yoongi, wake up!”
There was a loud grumble punctuated by several swears, and after more shuffling
than Jimin thought was necessary, the room was silent once more. Then, with a
groan worthy of a bear waking from hibernation, Yoongi sat up.
"Why do I always schedule phone calls this early?" He muttered to himself, and
climbed over Jimin to clamber down from the loft.
Jimin rolled over and lay flat, staring up at the low ceiling. He listened to
Yoongi moving around downstairs, and soon the smell of coffee wafted up to him.
He heard Yoongi begin to talk on the phone, and it took him a few moments to
realize that he couldn't understand a single word Yoongi was saying. It was
bizarre and yet...almost familiar. Jimin felt like he'd heard it before,
somewhere, long ago.
Curious, Jimin pushed the blankets aside and climbed down. Yoongi spared him a
glance just long enough to gesture to the pot of coffee on the counter, beside
which an extra mug sat.
Yoongi wasn't on the phone; he was on Skype, or some similar platform on his
computer. He had headphones on, so Jimin couldn't hear the full conversation,
but he could see the person on the other end, who was clearly on the other side
of the world, because it was nighttime there. He accidentally made eye contact,
saw surprise in the young man's eyes, and quickly looked away, hiding himself
in the kitchen. Jimin wished he understood what Yoongi was saying, because it
was obvious by his tone of voice that he was answering a question about his
mysterious guest.
Eventually Jimin realized the call was going to last a lot longer than he
expected; they seemed to be working on something together, and he decided that
he couldn't hide in the kitchen forever. He quietly sat down on the sofa, which
put him directly in view of Yoongi's computer. The man on the other end must've
commented on his appearance behind Yoongi, because Yoongi swung around in his
chair and said something to Jimin very quickly in whatever language (Jimin was
assuming it was Korean by this point) they had been conversing in.
Jimin raised his eyebrows and gave Yoongi a confused look. "What?"
"Shit, sorry," he switched back to English, "I just said, if you want, you can
take a shower first. I'm working from home today anyway, so it doesn't really
matter when I get mine."
"Oh. Okay, thanks," Jimin nodded. "Is that Korean?" He couldn't help asking,
even though Yoongi had already turned back to the monitor. He twisted back.
"Yeah. You don't speak Korean at all?"
Jimin shrugged. "I think maybe I used to? I dunno. I can't remember anything,
but it...feels familiar."
Yoongi nodded, and then laughed suddenly, without context. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not
ignoring you, Namjoon-ah," he snickered in English. "He's demanding to be put
on the speakers so he can talk to you, too," he added to Jimin.
"But I already said I can't--"
"He speaks English perfectly fine. In fact, I bet that's the only reason why he
wants to talk you; to practice."
He abruptly switched back to Korean, sounding like he was arguing with
'Namjoon-ah'. After a moment, he sighed and side-glanced at Jimin. "Do you want
to? You don't have to if you don't. He's just excited because he says I never
have anyone over, so he wants to 'meet' my friend."
"But we're not, we barely—"
"Yeah, don't worry about that, Jimin," he cut him off. "Here. I feel like you
two will get along." He yanked out the headphone jack and set the headphones on
the desk. Then he stood up and gestured for Jimin to sit down in his seat.
Jimin felt extremely awkward as he sat down, tugging self-consciously at the
hem of Yoongi's long shirt he wore.
"Jimin, this is Namjoon. Namjoon, Jimin. Enjoy yourselves. I'm getting another
cup of coffee." He walked off, leaving Jimin to the mercy of the man on the
monitor.
"Hi, Jimin! It's nice to meet you!" Namjoon said, smiling until his dimples
showed. He had a rather kind face and a friendly voice, so Jimin started to
relax a little.
"Hi, um, nice to meet you, too," he replied shyly. He was out of practice with
meeting new people he wasn’t about to be fucked by within five minutes, and he
vaguely recalled how he used to be bad at opening up to new people.
It wasn't too bad chatting with Namjoon, surprisingly. He had next to no
accent; he sounded almost American. Jimin was surprised to find out his English
capabilities were the product of a lot of hard work. He was only a year older
than Jimin, and apparently had known Yoongi since high school, when he'd
studied overseas for a year at Yoongi's school. They’d been in a Harmony and
Composition class together, and hit it off right away. They were both into
rapping and music composition, and even now often worked on production projects
together despite being half a world away from each other.
Jimin did his best to answer questions without mentioning anything from the
past two years. He wasn't ready to talk about that with anyone other than
Yoongi yet. But the more they talked about normal, everyday life, like friends
and hobbies, the more Jimin found himself feeling how much he'd missed out on
the last two years of his childhood. He’d coped by blocking everything out, not
thinking about the life that had been stolen from him, but bit by bit it was
all starting to trickle back into his mind.
Jimin leaned forward on his elbows on the desk, resting his chin in his hands
as he bit his lip and stared sadly at the computer, only half hearing what
Namjoon was saying. But he was pulled from his thoughts abruptly when Namjoon's
tone changed, and he asked him sharply in concern, "What happened to your
face?"
Jimin jerked back in the seat, pulling away from the webcam so fast he almost
toppled the chair. His bruises from earlier in the week were healing, but they
were just as dark and ugly as ever. He’d used makeup to cover them up for the
client, but as soon as he washed his face, they were quite visible again. In
seconds, Yoongi was there, steadying the chair.
"What?" Jimin asked shakily, the blood draining from his face. He could feel
himself starting to panic. "Yoongi," he whispered, reaching out a fumbling hand
to grab hold of the older man's sleeve.
Yoongi leaned forward to take up the whole camera lens, and said something in
Korean. They went back and forth quickly for a minute, and then Yoongi ended
the call. Jimin couldn't help it when he burst into tears, the first in such a
long time that soon it was like a dam had ruptured within him.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed, not even noticing that Yoongi had pulled him from the
chair and was leading him to the sofa.
Yoongi sighed, rubbing circles on his back. "I don't know what to say to you to
make you feel better; I’m really not good at that kind of stuff. But just know
that I'm here for you, and you should never apologize for what you've gone
through."
Jimin felt his anger, his strongest coping mechanism, start to kick in. "Why do
care? You don't even know me! I'm just, I'm just a fucked up and fucked over
stranger. Why are you letting me ruin your life by becoming a burden? You don't
have any responsibility for me. You should just kick me out and tell me to
figure it out myself like the whore I am!" Jimin only stopped ranting when he
began hyperventilating and black spots appeared in his vision.
"I feel sick," he announced abruptly, and promptly threw up the coffee he'd
just finished all over Yoongi's lap and some of the floor, just barely missing
the sofa.
Chapter End Notes
     Well Namjoon just snuck in there, didn't he? Definitely wasn't
     planning that, I swear. This won't be the last we'll be hearing from
     him, either. :)
     Unrelated: who else has been listening to 'Serendipity' on repeat
     since it came out??? And who else noticed the "U know, I know"...and
     gaaah seriously everything in that song could totally be talking
     about Yoonmin. (But the rational part of me knows it's just a
     coincidence. ("All this is no coincidence," he sings! lol) And
     anyway, it was Rapmon who wrote the lyrics, so unless Jimin gave
     input (I hope he did), and unless Rapmon is being his usual Yoonmin
     fanboy self (haha like seriously), then I seriously doubt the song
     has any significant meaning other than to sound gorgeous. Which it
     does. (But ugh, even the "I'm your calico cat"....calico cat = good
     luck charm....in BTS Run 21, Yoongi said Jimin was his good luck
     charm since debut.)
     OH and I love that Jimin is infatuated with the stars in the video,
     because he was super into the night sky in Hawaii! He mentioned it
     multiple times.
     Whoops. I'll stop now! Had to let that out, hahaha.
***** Chapter V *****
Chapter Notes
     I updated the tags again. Some have to do with this chapter, some
     have to do with the whole story in general; things I realized I
     should probably have tagged from the beginning. I honestly wasn't
     sure what to refer to the Chris/Jimin relationship, but it's
     undeniably a touchy subject, so I decided on "pseudo-incest" as the
     tag to warn people away if that's something they can't handle. I know
     I don't like reading any fics with actual incest because it makes me
     super uncomfortable, which is really the reason why Chris isn't
     related to Jimin by blood. But there's still the mental aspect to
     think about; Jimin thinks/thought of him as his father, so it really
     has the same psychologically traumatic effect on him as if Chris was
     his biological family.
     Anyway, there's some FLUFF in this chapter, I'm happy to announce!!!
     Happy reading!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
V.
 
 After Jimin’s breakdown that morning, Yoongi settled back at his workstation
to get some work done. Jimin had nothing better to do, so he wandered around
the room for a while, looking at pictures and the random objects strewn about.
There was a basketball trophy lying sideways on a pile of papers, possibly
acting as a paperweight; the air conditioner-slash-heater was directly
overhead, and the papers fluttered in the breeze. When he ran out of things to
look at, Jimin returned to the sofa and watched Yoongi work. It was intriguing,
honestly. Jimin had always enjoyed his choir lessons and dance class, both with
such different styles of music that he'd grown an appreciation for many genres
of music. He'd never really thought about how music was created, though. 
Yoongi was mostly silent, concentrating on his music. He had headphones on, and
occasionally would hum a few bars, move things around on the screen, hop over
to the piano…he was active and yet not.
Jimin felt bad about bothering Yoongi, so he kept silent for the most part, but
occasionally he asked Yoongi about what he was doing when his curiosity was too
much to ignore. Jimin was used to not having anything to do, having been locked
in his room for hours at a time without any form of entertainment, so he
eventually did what he normally had done; going into an almost meditative
state, thinking and imagining things, and partially dozing.
He wondered what Chris was doing. Whether he was actively searching for Jimin,
and if he was, how he was going about it. Jimin knew very well that the
circumstances around Jimin’s disappearance would prevent Chris from reporting
him to the police. If he thought Jimin had been kidnapped, rather than escaped,
he might be going through the network of people they’d collaborated with in
order to find him. Luckily Yoongi was completely unrelated to everything and
anyone he could possibly know.
He vaguely wondered if the video from the hotel had been uploaded online. Chris
often had Jimin sit down to watch the edited videos, critiquing and giving
suggestions on how to improve their content, pointing out what he'd cut and
why. If he thought about it now, compared with what Yoongi was doing, Jimin
realized how strange it was that he'd gotten so used to calmly and objectively
viewing his videos. As if he wasn't watching himself, but a stranger, an actor
in a film.
Before he knew it, a few hours had passed, and suddenly Yoongi was standing
right in front of him, looking concerned. “Are you all right? I’m sorry, I
shouldn’t have just left you with nothing to do.”
Jimin shrugged, looking up at him. “I’m used to it. Sorry if I spaced out.”
Yoongi glanced at his watch. “Do you wanna go out for lunch? It’ll be nice to
get out of this cage,” he grinned.
“Sure, sounds good.” Cage was the right word. His legs were itching to walk
around.
“Pizza okay?”
Yoongi knew a great pizza place not too far away, inside a shopping mall. The
crust was thick yet just the right amount of crunchy on the bottom, with plenty
of flavor even by itself, while the restaurant used fresh tomatoes with spices
instead of pizza sauce below the cheese. Jimin was by no means a cheese
connoisseur, but even he could tell the combination of mozzarella and another
kind of cheese he couldn’t name was a match to die for.
“Ugh, I could eat an entire pizza of this,” he moaned around a mouthful, and
Yoongi smirked.
“Told you it was good. They’re a little on the pricey side, but that’s just
‘cause they make everything from scratch, and use high quality ingredients. I
think they grow most of the vegetables themselves.”
“What are you, a spokesperson for this place?” Jimin teased, licking grease off
his fingers before reaching for another slice.
“No, just a long-time patron. Namjoon and I used to come here all the time. We
used to hang out with the owner’s son, since we all went to school together,
but I lost touch with him after we graduated high school. I assume he’s off
doing his own thing, now, like the rest of us.”
 
Jimin hadn’t realized how much Chris had been like a bodyguard until he wasn’t
there. Anytime Jimin went out, it was accompanied by Chris. Clothing shopping,
movies, cafes, they’d even once gone to a laser tag arcade together, teamed up
together against a bunch of college kids avoiding schoolwork.
The thing was, ever since he’d turned eighteen, Jimin’s face had been included
in the videos online. And there was absolutely no way of telling if a person
waiting nearby in line frequented those kinds of sites in their free time. So
as he was leaning against the wall by the water fountain, waiting for Yoongi to
get back from the restroom after they’d left the restaurant and wandered the
mall a little, he jumped slightly when an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke up
from beside him, unnaturally close. He looked up at the man who was practically
towering over him, arm coming to wrap itself around Jimin’s small shoulders.
“Hey there, baby. You’re even cuter in person. Why don’t we take this somewhere
a little quieter?”
Jimin frowned. “Or, I could stay right here,” he deadpanned.
“Ooh, exhibitionist, are you? Why am I not surprised? After all, you let guys
fuck you all the time online.” Jimin tried to pull away, but the man was too
strong. His hands were now on Jimin’s hips, about to go under his shirt.
“Leave me alone,” he snapped, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
“Excuse me,” Yoongi’s deep, rough voice abruptly cut through everything. “Would
you mind explaining to me why you have your dirty hands all over my boyfriend?”
The man laughed, cruelly, but let go. Jimin shifted closer to Yoongi, but kept
his shoulders squared and arms crossed.
“Your boyfriend? I wonder if you know he’s a cheating slut and a man-whore?”
Jimin had to hand it to Yoongi; he certainly knew how to keep his cool.
“Whatever he does is none of your business, is it?”
The stranger raised his eyebrows. “You mean to say that you don’t care that
he’s getting fucked to Hong Kong by a dozen different guys on a regular basis?
Wow, that’s on a wholeother level.”
Thankfully he left them alone after that, just in time for Jimin to grab onto
Yoongi’s shirt in a death-grip.
“Fucking perverted bastard,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, and slipped his
arm around Jimin’s waist protectively. Jimin tried to ignore how nice it felt
there.
A few minutes later, as they were almost to Yoongi’s scooter, he turned to
Jimin.
“I think we should dye your hair. It might help with fewer people recognizing
you. Any colors you’d prefer?”
“I’ve dyed my hair a bunch of times over the past year, though,” Jimin pointed
out. “I doubt it’ll prevent anyone from recognizing me.”
“Yeah, but I was mostly thinking that if Chris is keeping an eye out for this
frankly eye-catching silver hair,” he reached out to lift a section of Jimin’s
fringe, and Jimin once again had to stop himself from thinking about the
tingles that ran down his spine at the touch, “he just might pass over the back
of your head if it’s, say, black, or brown. Of course, beanies and snapbacks
will solve that problem, too, and you’re welcome to any of my hats, but it’s a
little inconvenient sometimes.”
 
They dyed his hair black later that evening, after Yoongi finished working. It
had been such a long time since Jimin had had his natural hair color that it
felt very strange to see himself in the mirror. He glanced through the mirror
at Yoongi, who was running his fingers through the soft, damp strands, a
thoughtful expression on his face. 
"I'd suggest cutting it, too, but this is probably fine." He dropped his hand.
Jimin smiled hesitantly, biting his lip. "It looks okay?"
"Hey, no fishing for compliments from me, kid."
"I wasn't," he trailed off. "Thank you," he amended. 
"Either way, it'll also make it easier for you to get a job with your natural
hair," he pointed out. “Most places these days don’t have rules about dying
your hair, I dunno, purple, but generally it’s better to wait until you’re
actually hired to start going crazy with the colors.”
 
The next few days seemed to go by quickly. Yoongi was busy with work; he had a
big project going on that demanded a lot of his time when he wasn’t at the
coffee shop, and they didn’t have much of a chance to discuss Jimin’s next
move. The most they decided was that it would need to be in the morning,
shortly after Chris went to work, and it would be a quick in-and-out with no
distractions or detours. Just grab what Jimin needed, and get out. Luckily
Jimin’s house was locked by a code and not a key, so as long as Chris hadn’t
changed the code since Jimin’s disappearance, he should be able to get in
without having to literally break in. He’d told Yoongi the address of his house
so the older man could do a quick drive-by and see if Chris was home at the
time they were thinking of going, but Yoongi never seemed to have time. He was
constantly on the phone or Skype, speaking in Korean, making Jimin feel even
more clueless than he might have if he understood at least what he was
discussing. Yoongi barely even slept, sometimes staying up until four in the
morning. Jimin felt bad being the only one getting all of the rest, but there
wasn’t really anything he could do to help out.
Jimin soon became antsy from staying inside constantly, so he managed to
convince Yoongi to at least go running with him a few times, dragging Yoongi
away from his desk. Yoongi clearly hated exercise, despite seeming to be in
okay shape. His endurance was shit, though. They played basketball once in the
park nearby, completely forgetting about dinner until their stomachs started
growling. Yoongi bought them sandwiches from the deli across the street, and
they sat back on a bench, listening to the sounds of the city until Yoongi
complained about the cold.
Jimin felt sick with guilt when Yoongi ended up pulling a rough all-nighter to
make up for the time he lost from their outing. He swore to himself that he
wouldn’t be so selfish from then on.
 
One day while Yoongi was at work at the coffee shop, Jimin pulled out the stool
from under the keyboard and switched it on. He carefully played a few notes,
not sure if he remembered anything from his choir lessons; occasionally his
teacher would have each of the students play a little of the songs, saying that
if they understood the accompaniment more deeply, they would understand that
their voices were not the only important part of the music. Their voices were
nothing more than an additional instrument, working with the piano, with the
orchestra. And each instrument was just as important as the next.
He was rusty. He couldn’t say he was surprised; it’d been more than two years
since he’d played, after all. But after an hour of repetition and mistakes, it
began to come back to him. By the end of two hours he’d played one of his
favorite dance routine songs by heart. He found the record button on the
keyboard and played one more time. Then he stood up, cleared a bit of space on
the floor, and pressed ‘play,’ setting the track on loop.
He closed his eyes and let his mind flow back to a happier time, and began to
dance. There wasn’t much room, so he had to compromise, integrating various
furniture and objects lying around into his movements, but he pretended they
were stage props in a performance, and soon he forgot even where he was.
Jimin lost track of time. So when the front door slammed shut loudly, he
startled and whirled around, eyes wide in fright.
Yoongi was standing in the entranceway, frozen as he stared at Jimin with his
mouth slightly open. His jacket was halfway off, as if he’d suddenly stopped in
the middle of removing it. His sunglasses hung loosely from his fingers.
Jimin realized the music was still playing as it looped back, and he rushed to
turn it off.
“I—I’m sorry,” he apologized into the sudden silence. “I know I should have
asked before using it. Please don’t, don’t be too mad at me?”
Yoongi seemed to come back to himself. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and
set his sunglasses on the counter. “Did you play that yourself?” he asked,
pointing toward the keyboard.
He didn’t seem to be mad, but then again Jimin hadn’t known him long enough to
be able to judge his moods very well yet. He kept a lot to himself. Jimin bit
his lip, pulling the sleeves of Yoongi’s shirt over his hands, and nodded.
“And you dance?” Yoongi strode over to him, putting his hands on his shoulders.
He sounded excited, which was a very new emotion to hear coming from the
normally chill man.
Jimin shuffled in embarrassment. “I used to take contemporary dance classes,
and I learned a little piano in choir.”
“You sing, too?”
Jimin felt extremely self-conscious. “I’m not that good,” he avoided shyly.
“Would you sing for me?” He saw Jimin’s hesitation and added, “It doesn’t have
to be right now. Whenever you feel comfortable.”
Jimin swallowed. “I just, haven’t sang in a really long time. So I probably
don’t sound very good. But I can try if you really want me to.”
“Just pretend you’re at noraebang,” Yoongi suggested with a shrug, stepping
back to give Jimin some room, and sat down on his workstation chair.
“What’s noraebang?” Jimin frowned, confused at the sudden non-English word. He
jumped when Yoongi burst out laughing.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t speak any Korean. It’s the Korean word for
karaoke.”
“Ohh. That makes sense. I used to go to the karaoke place downtown with my
dance friends when I was still in school.”
Jimin wracked his brain for a song to sing. He realized he wanted to sing for
Yoongi, but he wanted to get it over with before he thought too much about it
and got too embarrassed.
Yoongi had turned away from him, probably assuming that he wouldn’t sing right
at that moment, when Jimin took a deep breath through his diaphragm and began
to sing the girl’s part to a song he knew. Yoongi’s head whipped back around to
stare at him.
“Don’t wanna know, if you’re looking into her eyes,
If she’s holding onto you so tight the way I did before.
I overdosed, should’ve known your love was a game,
Now I can’t get you out of my brain,
Oh, it’s such a shame.
We don’t talk anymore,
We don’t talk anymore,
We don’t talk anymore like we used to do.
We don’t love anymore,
What was all of it for?
We don’t talk anymore like we used to do.”*
Jimin trailed off uncertainly, feeling himself blush a little under Yoongi’s
gaze.
“Wow. Jimin. You have one of the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard,” he paused
momentarily before adding, “and I don’t give out compliments lightly.”
“Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve sang anything,” he said again.
Yoongi shook his head. “No, it was beautiful. Thank you.”
 
A few more days passed, this time with Yoongi unplugging his headphones and
asking Jimin to sing a few bars here and there. It was so much fun working with
Yoongi, and Jimin felt himself wanting to do it all the time. Every time Yoongi
smiled at him, he could feel his insides warm up as if he’d just sipped from a
mug of hot cocoa.
But he should have known it was too good to last.
Jimin started noticing that Yoongi seemed nervous about something. Or maybe
nervous wasn't the right word. Awkward? Suspicious? Secretive? He always seemed
to be talking with Namjoon in a serious voice on a regular basis now, and Jimin
could have sworn they kept glancing at him during their heated discussions. It
wasn’t about music, Jimin could tell that much. Yoongi was clearly hiding
something from Jimin. But it was almost like he wanted to tell Jimin whatever
it was. He was definitely hiding something, but every time it seemed like he
was about to say something, he would backtrack and stop himself. Whatever it
was, it didn’t seem to be good. He stopped asking Jimin for singing help as
often, and even when he did, the entire interaction felt very businesslike and
quick.
There were so many more silences than usual. Jimin could tell Yoongi was
naturally a quiet person, but even this was strange. It made Jimin feel uneasy.
Was Yoongi going to kick him out? It had been several days already; clearly
Jimin had overstayed his welcome. Not only was Jimin using Yoongi’s clothes and
sleeping in his bed, but also eating his food, taking up his time, and Yoongi
kept buying him things he needed. Small, necessary things, like a toothbrush
and underwear, but still.
Jimin decided that he was going to have to take things into his own hands. He
couldn’t continue to take advantage of Yoongi’s kindness like this.
He tried to remember Chris’s work schedule, and then one morning after Yoongi
left for the coffee shop, Jimin pulled on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, a beanie,
and a mask, and pocketed the few dollars of leftover cash from when Yoongi had
told him to keep the change after handing him money to pay for their food.
He took a bus to his neighborhood out in the suburbs, and kept his hood up as
he walked the rest of the way toward his house. When he reached his neighbor’s,
he stayed close to the bushes, avoiding the windows. Upon a quick look, it was
clear that Chris’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and Jimin knew he never parked
in the garage (there simply wasn’t room for a car, what with all of the sports
and camping equipment, boxes, and random broken appliances inside).
Taking a deep breath, Jimin walked up to the front door and keyed in the
passcode. The keypad beeped twice in short succession, the red light turning
yellow briefly before turning red again.
“Shit,” Jimin bit his lip, before he suddenly realized he’d put in the previous
passcode. Chris had changed it only a few weeks ago, and Jimin had nearly
forgotten. Steeling himself, Jimin put in the most recent code. This time the
keypad beeped slowly twice before a third, higher tone chimed as the light
turned green. He heard the sharp click as the door unlocked. He was in.
Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to calm his breathing. He tugged
his hood down and removed his mask.
The ticking of the clock in the front hall reminded him that there was no time
to lose, so he quickly made his way to Chris’s office. It didn’t take long to
locate his State ID, but it took a little more searching to find the folder
with his birth certificate (and translation), adoption certificate, and Social
Security card. He happened to find a bank envelope with three hundred dollars
in it tucked away underneath several folders in a drawer; he took that as well,
feeling absolutely no guilt. Chris owed him far more than that after all Jimin
had done for him.
It had been just over ten minutes. Not wasting any more time, Jimin ran
upstairs to his room, grabbed his duffle bag, and began shoving clothes inside.
He also took some of the few sentimental items from his childhood, like a small
photo album he’d been allowed to keep from before he was adopted, and a few
other knickknacks that didn’t take up too much space.
Twenty-five minutes had passed since Jimin had entered the house. He had to
hurry. He took one last look around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything
important, and then zipped up the bag.
He didn’t hear the car pull into the driveway, or the front door open and
close, but he heard the stairs creak as someone walked up to the second floor.
Heart in his throat, Jimin dropped the bag, kicked it under his bed out of
sight, and turned just as Chris stepped into the room.
Chapter End Notes
     * Song lyrics are from: Charlie Puth feat. Selena Gomez - “We Don’t
     Talk Anymore” (I wanted him to sing Homme’s “Just Come to Me” but
     remembered that Jimin doesn’t speak Korean and has no exposure to
     Korean culture.)
      
     Wow, so much happened in this chapter. I hope it didn't feel too much
     like an in-between chapter. I loved writing all of their little
     interactions, and feel like they're each important for different
     reasons. Oh! And fun fact, because it probably won't have any
     importance in the story, but the son of the pizza owners is JIN!
     hahaha I felt pretty clever writing that, while simultaneously
     laughing at myself for the ridiculousness of the idea. And what's
     Yoongi hiding?? I can almost guarantee it's not what you're probably
     thinking. :P
     Next chapter is just about done (finished writing it last night, just
     needs to be edited), set to be posted sometime during the week I
     hope. I will have to warn you that it's not going to be fun. You'll
     need a strong stomach. So please, please brace yourself. I apologize
     in advance.
     Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to comment! I seriously
     get motivated by your comments, and I've gotten into a few great
     conversations already. <3
***** Chapter VI *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is extremely graphic, and will probably make some people
     uncomfortable. Please check the tags (updated) if you are sensitive
     to certain topics. Not all updated tags are for this chapter. Some
     are for future chapters.
     That's all the warning I'm giving.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
VI.
 
Jimin had never seen Chris so furious in his entire life.
“I knew you’d be back,” he spat, stepping closer and closer until Jimin had
backed himself against the wall. “I guess you never noticed that we have a home
security system set up, did you.” He held up his phone, showing Jimin the
multiple photos of him entering the house, of him going into Chris’s office,
even of him going up the stairs.
A moment of complete silence passed, and then everything shot into fast-
forward.
Chris grabbed him by the arm and wrestled him to the floor, pulling out a
length of camping rope from his coat pocket. He wound it tightly around Jimin’s
wrists and then dragged him, yelling, up onto the bed, tying the other end of
the rope to the headboard. When Jimin successfully landed a hard kick in his
stomach, he yanked off Jimin’s (Yoongi’s) shoes, tossing them to the floor.
Then he turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.
Jimin lay there for a few minutes, gasping for air as he tried to stop his
panic from taking over. He’d been so close. If only he’d been five minutes
faster, he could have been free. He didn’t realize he was crying until his
tears dripped into his ears uncomfortably.
“Yoongi,” he whimpered. It’d be hours before the other man would come home that
evening to find out he was gone, and even if this was the first place he
thought to check—Jimin doubted it, as he hadn’t thought to leave a note—there
was no way for him to get to Jimin without Chris catching him.
He heard the lock slide open, and the door swung back so hard it banged against
the adjoining wall. Jimin scrambled back up against the headboard, arms
awkwardly above his head due to the rope around his wrists. He pulled himself
into as small and tight of a ball as he could, sitting with his knees to his
chest.
“Don’t even try hiding from me, you little shit,” Chris snapped, seizing one of
his ankles and pulling it down. “What did you think you were trying to pull,
running away like that? Where’ve you been hiding all this time? Someone clearly
helped you. How’d you manage that, huh? D’you blow one of the hotel staff?”
“Stay away from me,” Jimin spat, kicking out and trying to free his leg,
unsuccessfully. Then, to his horror, Chris unzipped his pants and climbed onto
the bed, straddling him and thus effectively holding down his legs. “D-
don’t touch me!” Jimin shrieked, throwing his whole body into trying to shove
Chris off.
His vision exploded when Chris struck him across the face so hard it gave him
whiplash.
“Shut the fuck up, Jimin! You don’t have a right to tell me what to do, you
little parasite. I’ve taken care of you for years, even after Zoe abandoned us,
and for what? For you to run away at the first chance you get, you ungrateful—”
he yanked up the hoodie and t-shirt until they were bunched up around the top
of his head, threatening to fall back down and cover his face. Soon the jeans
Jimin was wearing were on the floor, joining his shoes and followed by his
underwear.
“No, no, no, please don’t! Please, Chris! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it
aga—”
A hand closed around his throat and began to squeeze. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”
Chris whispered into his ear. “You never have a problem with all
those other guys fucking your brains out. How am I any different? I think I
deserve something for all I’ve done for you.”
Jimin gasped for air when his throat was abruptly released. He heard the sound
of a wrapper tearing, and he looked down as Chris rolled a condom onto his
semi-erect penis. Jimin’s breathing grew faster as terror seeped through his
body. His mind was going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, but everything drew
back into sharp focus when Chris pushed in without any prep whatsoever other
than the lube he had used to bring himself to full hardness.
Jimin screamed and twisted, trying to pull away, but Chris was too strong for
him. He held his hips down as he thrust into the teenager, grunting with the
effort. Maybe it was because it had been the longest Jimin had gone in a while
without having sex or even masturbating, or maybe it was because Chris was
purposely being rough, but it hurt. Jimin could barely think. He wasn’t aware
of the things he was crying, whether they were words or nonsense. He didn’t
even realize he’d been sobbing Yoongi’s name in between cries.
“Shut up, will you?” Chris snapped. “The neighbors will hear.”
Jimin drew in an especially large lungful of air and let out the loudest scream
he could possibly make, his voice cracking halfway through, only to feel his
head snap harshly to the side and hit the headboard as Chris smacked him again.
This time, Jimin couldn’t fight the darkness, and he welcomed its escape.
 
Jimin came to in bits and pieces. First his hearing came back. He could hear
Chris talking on the phone in another room. He was talking about Jimin, saying
something about depositing money, something about a trigger. It didn’t make
sense to his foggy mind. Then feeling came back into his limbs, and he almost
wished it hadn’t.  He ached inside, his throat felt raw, and his head felt like
someone had stuffed a bunch of cotton inside. He had a painful crick in his
neck. Finally, he cracked his eyes open. One eye didn’t cooperate as well as
the other.
He was lying on the bed in the guest room. It seemed like it was late
afternoon, although it was hard to tell because the blinds had been drawn. He
still had ropes around his wrists, but now they were attached to either side of
the bed, with just enough slack for him to pull his arms partway into the air,
or towards his shoulders or feet, but not enough for him to touch anything or
go anywhere. He realized his ankles were in the same situation; bound securely,
but loosely. He was completely naked, and without any blanket or cover, he
shivered in the cool air.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and
looked around the room. One camera had been set up by the foot of the bed,
angled to look down at him. He could see that it wasn’t turned on. On the
dresser behind the camera, he could see a large, ribbed vibrator with a very
long cord that ended in a USB jack rather than a remote. A bottle of lube sat
beside the vibrator.
Jimin’s stomach grumbled suddenly, and he frowned. He hadn’t eaten since
breakfast—coffee and a single piece of toast—and he could feel the hunger pains
beginning. He leaned back again, staring up at the ceiling listlessly. He
wondered if Yoongi was back from work yet. Was he concerned about Jimin's
disappearance, or was he angry that he’d taken his things and disappeared
without a note?
Jimin missed Yoongi desperately. Not just because he was scared about what
would happen now, but because Jimin realized he wanted to be with him. The
warmth, the strange tingles he felt around the other man were something he'd
never experienced before, but he knew what it all meant. He wasn't naïve. He
wanted Yoongi to hold him, to kiss him...to stay up late just to talk to him
for hours. But that would never happen at this point. 
 
It was starting to get dark by the time Chris came back, laptop in hand.
“Good, you’re awake,” was all the greeting he provided. He set the laptop down
next to the vibrator and lube, and then went over to switch on the bedside
lamp. He left it on the second-to-lowest setting. He ran his fingers through
Jimin’s hair on his way back to the end of the bed. Jimin scowled and shifted
away. “Black looks good on you,” Chris nodded appreciatively. “It’s a good
thing you didn’t try cutting your hair; the audience loves watching it get
pulled when you go down on your partners.”
Jimin stomach decided to whine again just then, and Chris grinned.
“Hungry?”
He shuddered when Chris rubbed his hand over his lower abdomen, and then
suddenly tensed.
“I need to piss,” he announced sharply. “Can I please use the bathroom?” Chris
narrowed his eyes at him. He wasn’t lying, though. “Seriously. It’s been like,
six or seven hours since I’ve gone, and the last thing I had was coffee. Come
on.”
“Fine. Be quick about it, though. And maybe you should take a two-minute shower
while you’re in there.” He untied Jimin and followed him to the bathroom. “I’m
leaving the door open,” he warned. He stood just outside the door, just in
view, as Jimin relieved himself and then took a scalding shower, soaping up and
rinsing off in record timing. He hissed in pain as the hot water irritated his
swollen face. Chris walked in and grabbed his arm as he was wrapping himself in
a towel.
“Don’t bother drying off completely,” he said, taking the towel away and
hanging it on the rack.
“But it’s cold in there,” Jimin protested, shivering already.
“I’ll turn on the heat, shut up.”
Jimin let himself get pulled down the hallway and back into the guestroom where
he was tied up in the same manner as before. He’d lost the will to fight, and
just lay there limply, like a marionette.
"Too bad about your face, though. See what you made me do?" Chris held up a
mirror so Jimin could see his face, even though he’d already seen it in the
bathroom mirror. The left side was almost completely swollen, and his bloodshot
eye was barely open, rimmed in dark purple. "We'll have to cover it up with a
blindfold."
Jimin watched as Chris set up the camera, hooking it up to the laptop. He also
picked up the vibrator and connected the USB cord to the laptop.
“We’re doing a livestream this time. This vibrator is hooked up to the
computer, and every time someone deposits money into our account, it will do
this.” He pressed a button on the keyboard, and the vibrator buzzed angrily.
“Other than that, it will simply be on this setting.” He switched the vibrator
this time, and it began to hum. One long hum, followed by two shorter hums,
before it repeated.
Then everything went dark as the blindfold was wrapped around his head.
Chris pushed the thankfully lubed up vibrator deep inside Jimin, as far as he
could, causing a choked gasp to fall from Jimin’s lips. Then he stepped back
and turned it on. Jimin bit his lip, trying not to react to the sensation.
“I was going to show you what it feels like when it’s triggered by a deposit,
but I think it’ll be more fun to surprise you on the live feed,” Chris said.
Jimin could hear the smirk in his voice. He wanted to kick the smirk off his
face.
 
It didn’t take long for the first deposits to come through. And sure enough,
Jimin was startled, a high whine bursting from his mouth. Chris had already
left the room, so it was just Jimin, the camera, and the vibrator. Suddenly it
seemed like the triggered setting was never ending. There would be a second or
two between the strong pulses, and then it would start up again. Jimin had a
feeling his viewers were getting excited about his reactions, and kept
depositing money to trigger it again and again.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been left there, but it felt like ages. Maybe two
hours. He’d already come three times, and was a sweaty, sticky, panting mess.
He lifted his hips off of the bed, bucking up into the air pointlessly. He
cried out when the vibrator buzzed its strongest yet. Was there another setting
Chris hadn’t bothered telling him about? Tears were soaking into the blindfold.
“Ugh, f-fuck!” He sobbed, writhing and pulling helplessly at the ropes. “N-no
more,” he whimpered, barely loud enough for the mic to pick up. “Please—ah!”
He’d stopped trying to hold back his cries, and even in his overstimulated
state, he could hear his voice echoing off the walls, a constant rhythm of high
gasps and whimpers.
Eventually he lost the strength to react with much else other than non-stop
trembling, as if he was having a seizure. His last orgasm had not produced
anything, his body drained dry.
Chris must have been monitoring him from elsewhere in the house, because he
came back shortly after and switched off the livestream, carefully pulling the
vibrator from Jimin’s body. He untied and removed the blindfold before carrying
Jimin to the bathroom. He was deposited into the tub, where Chris sprayed him
down with the showerhead.
Jimin’s eyes had drifted shut in exhaustion, but they snapped open as two
fingers slipped inside him.
“You’re so loose,” Chris breathed, voice thick as his fingers poked and prodded
his walls.
“Whaddya ’spect?” Jimin slurred rudely, no energy to properly form words, but
fueled by his anger at the wrongness of his situation. His body remained limp
as Chris scissored his fingers and pinched his rim between his thumb and
forefinger. Jimin whimpered and sobbed as pain shot through him with every
touch to his oversensitive insides.
The unexpected sound of glass breaking downstairs made them both freeze. It
sounded suspiciously like a window shattering.
"What the—" Chris quickly tied Jimin's hands to the handlebar on the shower
wall with the belt of a bathrobe and gagged him with a wet washcloth that still
had some of Jimin’s semen on it. Standing up, Chris wiped his hands on a towel
and shut the door on his way out.
Jimin could hear shouting, and furniture being knocked around downstairs. He
realized it was Yoongi’s voice that was shouting. It was deep and filled with
rage.
“Where is he? If he’s hurt, I swear to fucking god, I will kill you, bastard!”
There was more loud scuffling, and another crash as something was broken.
Suddenly it was quiet downstairs. Jimin couldn't help thinking the worst. What
had Chris done to Yoongi? He wouldn't try hurting him too badly, would he? 
Chris had been violent, but he wasn't homicidal. Right?
He tried screaming, but the gag didn't let him do much more than make a high-
pitched whining sound that he was sure wouldn't carry all the way downstairs.
He drew on what energy he had left to kick at the wall and floor of the tub,
knocking a large bottle of shampoo across the bathroom. It bounced and skidded
across the tile. He kicked the other bottles off of the tub as well.
A minute later the bathroom door opened, and Chris was shoved inside, a sharp,
heavy-duty switchblade at his throat. Yoongi stepped in after him, looking
furious. His lip was split, blood smeared across his cheek, and his clothes
were rumpled. When he saw Jimin, his eyes narrowed, and the knife pressed
harder against Chris’s throat.
"Untie him," he growled, kicking the back of Chris's legs. The second Jimin's
hands were free, he yanked out the gag himself, spitting onto the floor, and
shakily pulled himself out of the tub. Yoongi tossed him a towel with his free
hand. 
"Are you okay?" Yoongi spoke quickly, almost coldly. Jimin shivered
involuntarily as he wrapped the towel around himself, and only nodded. He
wasn't okay, but he would be. "Good. Go get dressed. I have some things to
discuss with this sorry excuse for a human being."
Feeling dread shift unpleasantly in his gut, Jimin stumbled as well as he could
back to his own bedroom, where he grabbed up the clothes he'd been wearing
yesterday, shucked them on, and then dragged his bag out from under the bed. He
thanked whatever powers that might be that Chris hadn’t found the bag.
He froze when he heard a loud smashing noise, and Chris roaring in anger. 
"Yoongi," Jimin breathed, immediately dropping everything and sprinting down
the hall, not caring how his body protested at every movement. There was
another crash, coming from the guest room. Jimin threw the door open, not sure
what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't smashed camera parts scattered
all over the floor, broken tripods, and Yoongi leaning over the laptop, still
holding the knife to Chris's neck.
Yoongi forced Chris to open the folder of videos. He took a photo with his
phone of the timestamps beside the thumbnails—clearly focusing on the dates
from before Jimin was legally an adult—and then in one click he deleted all of
the videos. He went to the trash can on the desktop and made sure the files
were permanently deleted.
But he wasn't finished. 
"Open your porn account," he ordered, poking Chris a little with the knife.
"Jimin claims he doesn't want to press charges against you, but if you even
think about trying to find him and screw up his life any more, just know that
I'll always have proof, and I will be the one to fuck you over." 
As soon as they were logged in, he took another photo, and then wrote (one-
handed) a quick message to the administrator of the site, telling them that
this account had been uploading underage content, and requested the site to
delete any remaining videos after the account had been deactivated. Which he
did as soon as he took another photo and sent the message. 
Jimin wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but one moment Yoongi had his
switchblade at Chris’s throat, the next the knife went flying across the room
as it was knocked from Yoongi’s hand. Suddenly Chris had his hands around
Yoongi’s throat, easily lifting him up and pushing him against the wall. Yoongi
couldn’t make any noise other than small gasps as he tried to keep his feet on
the ground and pull at the vice grip around his neck.
“No! Let him go!” Jimin shouted, leaping forward and pulling at Chris’s arms.
Terror spread through his entire body as Yoongi struggled to breathe, visibly
losing strength. “Stop it!” Jimin screamed. “Don’t hurt him!” He looked around
the room and grabbed the first heavy thing he could find; an old porcelain vase
that had never once been moved from its spot on the bookshelf. Without any
thought other than to save Yoongi, Jimin swung the vase down hard against the
back of Chris’s head, causing it to shatter spectacularly. There was a pregnant
pause, and then both Chris and Yoongi collapsed to the ground.
“Yoongi!” Jimin scrambled over to him and pulled him out from under Chris’s
still form. Yoongi gasped for air, touching his throat weakly.
“Are you okay, are you okay?” Jimin was crying, clutching Yoongi’s shoulders.
He got a weak nod in return.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” he coughed.
“What?” Jimin felt the blood run from his face, and he quickly flipped Chris
over. He was bleeding, but not too badly. Luckily the vase hadn’t broken
directly against his head, so he’d only suffered small cuts from the spray of
broken porcelain. Jimin held his own bleeding hand by Chris’s nose, and let out
a sigh of relief when he felt warm air over his fingers. “He’s alive.”
“Thank god. I really don’t want to have to hide you from the police, too,”
Yoongi chuckled half-heartedly.
Jimin threw his arms around Yoongi, breaking down again as his adrenaline began
to run out. Yoongi sighed and wrapped his arms around Jimin in return, pressing
his cheek to the side of Jimin's head. 
"It's okay," he murmured, running his fingers through Jimin's damp hair. He
pulled back after a moment. "We should get out of here before he wakes up,
though." He pulled them both to their feet, and then went to collect his
switchblade from the other side of the room. "Did you get your papers?"
"Yeah. Got everything today—yesterday? Before he caught me. I—wait." The
security footage, Jimin realized. "We need to delete the security footage.
It'll show you breaking in, and fighting with him." Luckily it wasn't too
difficult to do that after finding Chris's phone. There was a notification
about the break-in, which Jimin opened and deleted, and then he went into the
history to delete the photos of himself as well. He deactivated the system just
in case more pictures were taken on their way out.
They went back to get Jimin's bag, and then with one last look around, Jimin
took Yoongi's hand and followed him out the door.
Chapter End Notes
     Oh god. Did you survive that? I’m so sorry. I wanted to cry so badly
     while writing. *hugs all around!* And yes, even though Yoongi says he
     wants to kill Chris, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him, he doesn’t
     actually want him dead. He just wants justice for Jimin. He doesn't
     have a killing bone in his body. (That switchblade was insurance.)
     Clearly he doesn't mind blackmailing, though. Smart man.
     Fun fact: I was totally imagining him in his 'give it to me' MV get
     up when he broke in to save Jimin. But with brown hair. Because his
     hair is brown in this. At least right now. *wink wink*
     If you're wondering whether Jimin's neighbors heard the
     screaming...sadly, the answer is: 'they weren't home.' But even if
     they were, he lives in the suburbs where houses have nice yards and
     trees and all that fancy schmancy stuff...so if they had music or
     whatever going, they wouldn't have heard him anyway. :(
     See you next chapter! Don't forget to comment! I'm currently
     struggling with the next chapter, so any and all encouragement helps.
     XD
     PS - I think this is going to be 10 or 11 chapters, but I don't want
     to put that on the chapter counter just yet. But I've got most of the
     rest of the story hashed out, just needs to be properly written.
     PPS - If you aren't in love with Yoongi after this fic, I don't know
     what I did wrong. ;)
***** Chapter VII *****
Chapter Notes
     I was going to wait until Monday to post this, but I'm basically
     stuck at home all weekend because of the typhoon, so I'll probably
     get a bunch of writing done. ;) And then we'll have the BTS comeback
     to freak out over!!
     I’ve been listening to this a lot while writing this story,
     especially during this chapter. (Also the prologue, actually.) It’s
     the Interstellar Main Theme, extra extended. https://youtu.be/
     UDVtMYqUAyw
     Important: Tag warnings are in effect for this chapter! I won't say
     which ones, just be prepared.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
VII.
 
They had to stop for gas midway back to Yoongi’s due to how far away Jimin’s
house was. Jimin didn’t realize he’d locked his arms around Yoongi’s waist
until the other man tried getting off of the scooter and found he couldn’t. It
took an extra second to break his grip, and Yoongi helped him slide off from
where he’d been sitting side-saddle. Jimin gestured to the bathroom on the side
of the building, and waved off Yoongi’s movement to follow him as he headed
toward the gas station shop to ask for the key.
“Restroom?” is all he bothered saying when he went in. The elderly man behind
the counter passed him the key with the obnoxiously large fob in the shape of a
palm tree. He kept his beanie pulled low, hood up to hide his swollen face.
In the surprisingly clean, but dimly lit single occupancy bathroom, he leaned
on the sink after using the toilet and washing his hands. He stared at his
reflection in the cracked mirror. His face was sickly, hideous to look at. He
leaned down and splashed himself with cold water. The shock felt good. He
straightened, watching the water drip down his skin. He imagined it melding
into his skin like wax, melting off of his body until he was a new person. But
that wouldn’t happen. He would always have this dirty shadow with him, whether
it was invisible or not.
He pushed himself away from the sink, wiping his hands on the hoodie before
heading back to return the key.
Yoongi was still standing by the pump, looking annoyed; while Jimin was in the
restroom, he’d had to go in to pay with cash when he discovered the machine
wasn’t taking credit cards. Jimin sat on the curb as he finished pumping the
gas. They didn’t talk at all as Jimin stared off into the darkness, watching
the headlights whizz past on the highway. Yoongi went back into the gas station
to get his change for the gas, leaving Jimin to scuff at the pavement with one
shoe.
He didn’t realize he’d been shivering until he felt an extra jacket draped over
his shoulders. Yoongi had returned, and even though he was always complaining
about the cold, he had removed his jacket to give to Jimin.
“Come on, let’s go home,” he said tiredly, patting Jimin on the head. Jimin
only nodded, and climbed onto the scooter behind him again.
This time as they were riding, Jimin nestled his chin against Yoongi’s
shoulder, hands loosely holding onto his hips. He closed his eyes and listened
to the wind rush past as they shot down the road.
 
It wasn’t until they reached Yoongi’s apartment and were kicking off their
shoes that they spoke again.
“Jimin,” Yoongi started solemnly, “why did you go off on your own? You know we
were going to go together.”
Jimin put his bag down on the floor, hating how accusatory the words sounded.
The reasonable part of his brain knew it was probably only because Yoongi was
tired, but the rest of him was too effective at overriding that thought. “I
don’t know. You never seemed to have time, and, and,” suddenly remembering
exactly why he’d left on his own, he choked slightly as everything rushed back
before he could stop it. It felt like a wave was breaking in his face before he
could jump it; he saw it coming, but miscalculated its arrival. “I thought you
were tired of me. I’ve been so much trouble for you, getting in the way of your
work, and I thought you were starting to hate me,” he cried, sinking to a
crouch and burying his face in his knees. “I thought you wanted to get rid of
me.”
“What?” There were immediately hands on his shoulders. “What are you talking
about, Jimin? I could never—what made you think that?”
“You don’t talk to me anymore. You—I know you keep talking about me with
Namjoon, but I don’t know what you’re fucking saying…you barely even look me in
the eyes. You don’t have to lie to me. I understand if you hate me. I know how
disgusting I am. I would hate me.” He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling
slightly as he pressed his knees against his eyes. It hurt, but he welcomed the
reminder of what he truly was.
“No. Jimin. No.” Yoongi forced his head up to look at him. “I don’t hate you.
Far from it. Would I have broken into your house and threatened that bastard
with a knife if I hated you? I could have been arrested, or worse, killed, but
that wasn’t stopping me. And you haven’t been getting in the way of work. It’s
just—” he sighed heavily, rubbing at his face in exhaustion. There were dark
shadows under his eyes. His mouth was slightly swollen although the blood was
gone, and his neck was a little red still. “There’s something I need to talk to
you about, once you calm down, okay? I’ve been putting it off because I was
afraid, and I don’t know if that was the right thing to do, but you deserve to
know. Just, not this second.”
Jimin looked up at him with blurry eyes. “You don’t hate me?” His voice was
thick from the tears.
Yoongi smiled sadly and reached out to cup the side of his cheek, gently. “I
could never hate you, Jimin,” he said with so much feeling that Jimin surged
forward before he knew what he was doing, and pressed their lips together.
Yoongi gasped against his mouth and pulled away before it could go further.
Jimin followed him, clinging to the front of his shirt and trying to capture
his lips again, sobbing slightly. He was pushed away again. He felt like a cold
vice had clenched mercilessly around his chest. So this is what rejection felt
like.
"Jimin, no. This isn't what you want."
"Yes, it is." He wanted it so badly. He wanted to erase everything and replace
it with Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.
“It’s not. Please, Jimin. You need to calm down.”
“I need,” Jimin swallowed, painfully. “I need…will you h-hold me?” He needed to
be close. He needed to be wrapped in a shield of warm protection, or he thought
he might start tearing at his skin in disgust.
Yoongi let out a breath, and nodded, drawing him into his arms. “Of course.”
It was awkward sitting on the floor the way they were, just feet away from the
pile of shoes by the door, but Jimin didn’t want to move from his safe cocoon
that was Yoongi’s arms. He buried his face into the space between Yoongi’s neck
and shoulder, scooting as close as possible as he clung to the other man.
“He raped me,” he found himself whispering, so quietly that he didn’t think
Yoongi would hear, but when Yoongi tensed around him, he knew he’d been heard.
“Jimin—”
“When he caught me. He…he tied my hands to my bed so I couldn't go anywhere,
and,” Jimin struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “Please don’t leave me
alone, Yoongi. Please.”
“I’m not. I won’t.”
"It, it was the first time he actually w-went that far." His breath kept
catching, making him stumble over his words. But he had to get this out, or he
knew he'd go crazy. Yoongi's silence encouraged him. 
"I used to love him. He was such a cool dad, maybe because he was so young. It
was like we were friends. My mom…I don’t know why but she never seemed to be
happy during the last couple of years she was with us, so I naturally
gravitated toward Chris. I never understood what was really going on until
later, when it was too late.
"She tried killing herself, you know." Jimin still didn't quite understand why,
even though Chris had explained it to him again and again after she'd left. But
he supposed there never really could be a real reason that made sense to the
people left behind in the aftermath of suicide. He'd always wondered, though,
if he hadn't been so busy being a selfish teenager, and paid more attention to
her, what things would be like now. He also wondered, now, if there had been
something else going on between his mother and Chris that he’d been unaware of
that had triggered her depression. He would never know now. He had no way of
getting in contact with his mother. She’d cut all contact with them, for what
she thought was Jimin’s benefit.
Jimin heard Yoongi take a shuddering breath, and when something dripped into
his scalp, he realized Yoongi was crying. Why was he crying? Was he crying for
him?
They sat there for a long while, arms locked tightly around each other, not
saying anything. Eventually Yoongi shifted with a groan, complaining about his
leg falling asleep. Jimin choked out a wet laugh and sniffled, wiping his face
with the back of his hand. He pushed away from Yoongi to sit up.
“Thank you.” But Yoongi only shook his head, and smiled sadly at him. He helped
them both to their feet.
“Look, why don’t you wash up and take a nice bath? I’ve got a bunch of herbal
bath bombs that have calming and de-stressing effects that I think might help a
bit.”
That sounded like a wonderful idea. But first, “Can I eat something before
that? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
They made quick sandwiches—Yoongi also hadn’t eaten dinner since he got home
from work and realized Jimin was gone—and then with a happily full stomach,
Jimin let himself sink into the bath Yoongi had drawn for him. Yoongi was
right; the herbal bath scents were soothing. Jimin tried to not think about
anything at all while he sat in the tub, but it was difficult. His mind kept
straying to the events of the day.
He didn't realize that he was crying again, or that the water had gone cold. He
dunked his head under, wanting to listen to his heartbeat in his ears. The
white noise was far more effective in clearing his mind. He thought he heard
knocking, and a hollow, distorted voice calling his name. He gasped,
accidentally inhaling a little water, when he was wrenched out of the water
with no warning. He coughed and gaped at Yoongi, whose face was stricken in
terror as he gripped Jimin's arms in an almost painful hold. He abruptly
realized what Yoongi had thought he was trying to do.
"I wasn't, I wasn't trying to--"
"I shouldn't have left you alone for so long." 
"Yoongi, I swear. I was just dunking my head. I was under for two seconds."
More like thirty, but that wasn't important.
"The water's cold," Yoongi changed the subject. "You should get out." He handed
Jimin a freshly laundered towel. He turned his back as Jimin stood to get out
of the tub, and then asked, "Would you like me to bring you your bag? Or shall
I get you some of mine to sleep in tonight?"
"I can wear my own." 
 
“Yoongi, how did you know where I was?” They had moved to the living room,
Yoongi nursing a bottle of beer, Jimin with a mug of chamomile tea between his
hands as he sat cross-legged on the sofa. It felt strange wearing his own
clothes again. He’d gotten used to the feel of Yoongi’s clothes. He glanced at
the sweatshirt hanging over the arm of the sofa beside him.
“I didn’t, at first. I thought maybe you’d just gotten cabin fever and went for
a run, so I waited for you to come back, but then you didn’t, and I thought
maybe you’d gone to the mall, or gotten lost on the way back.”
“The mall?”
“Yeah, I dunno, maybe you needed to get something. It seriously didn’t occur to
me that you would have gone on your own to your house, since we had already
decided to go together. I’d even asked Mrs. Kim at the pizza place if she’d
seen you.”
“How’d you figure it out, then?”
“Ugh, if you can believe it—you remember that douchebag from the other day? The
one at the mall.”
“Yeah?” Jimin frowned. He wasn’t sure where this was going. He put the tea down
and reached out to pull the sweatshirt into his lap, unconsciously feeding a
hand through one of the sleeves.
“Well, I ran into him in the parking garage, on my way out when I couldn’t find
you anywhere. Imagine the chances. He must work there or something. I dunno,
and don’t really care. Anyway, unsurprisingly he was an asshole again as soon
as he recognized me. He asked me if I knew what my ‘boyfriend’ was up to right
now,” he held up air quotes derisively, “and when I rounded on him in anger, he
laughed at me and pulled out his phone.” Yoongi stopped talking abruptly and
clenched his fists, as if the memory itself was painful. He took a swig of
beer.
This time, Jimin had a strong feeling about where the story was going.
“He pulled up the porn site and showed me the livestream, and then deposited
money into some kind of ticker account just to show me what happened when
viewers did that.”
Jimin flinched. He’d hoped Yoongi would never see any of that. There was
something different about Yoongi just hearing about what Jimin was doing,
versus him seeing for himself.
A hand gently touched his hand, and he looked up. He didn’t see judgement in
Yoongi’s eyes, nor did he see pity. He only saw concern and warmth, which was
confirmed when Yoongi squeezed his hand lightly before drawing his hand back.
“I nearly threw his phone across the garage when I saw how you were being
tortured. And he was laughing. Instead, I got right back on my bike and went
straight to your house. I’ve never been so glad to have thought to save an
address in my phone.”
 
A little later, as they were lying in Yoongi’s bed in the darkness, the older
man spoke up.
“A few years ago, I—” he broke off, and then cleared his throat. “I tried
committing suicide.”
Jimin turned quickly, wishing he could see better in the dark. All he could see
was the vague silhouette of Yoongi’s face.
“I was around eighteen when I started getting social anxiety, and it steadily
got worse. Everything was a mess. I wanted to pursue music in college, and my
parents liked me playing piano, but they didn’t see music as a viable income,
so we almost constantly fought. In the end I had to withdraw from university
because of my attacks, and I locked myself in my room, not talking to anybody.
I started drinking to block everything out, even though I wasn’t even old
enough to legally buy it. Somehow I was never carded. I tried going to some
underground rap performances, and started rapping on stage, but it all came to
a head one night when I imagined all of the faces in the crowd were my
parents’, glaring at me in disappointment. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I tried
taking sleeping pills the next morning.”
Jimin reached out, trying to find Yoongi’s hand. He found his wrist first, and
gently trailed his fingers down to lace through Yoongi’s. He felt his hand get
squeezed tightly.
“Luckily, my older brother found me in time, and called an ambulance. My
parents took me to the psychiatrist afterward, who diagnosed me with depression
and put me on meds, but the meds made me sleepy all the time, and suddenly I
couldn’t write any music. None of my friends knew what had happened, or that I
was on meds, so they always joked about me sleeping everywhere. They thought it
was funny, and cute. I literally could fall asleep anywhere, and I was always
complaining about being exhausted. They thought it was just because I stayed up
late every night. I was ashamed, and didn’t want to tell them the truth.
“I started weening myself from the meds without telling my parents, and threw
myself completely into my rap. I wrote about anything and everything going
through my mind. Whenever I rapped about what was eating at me, it seemed to be
the release I needed. I stopped trying to be something I wasn’t. I just let
things happen. I’ll admit, I lost several friends along the way, but I don’t
regret it now. The few people I have are all I need, and I’m so much happier
now.”
Jimin played with their fingers. “I’m glad you didn’t die,” he said softly.
There was a moment of silence.
Then, “Me too.” Yoongi rolled over onto his side to face Jimin, although that
made it harder for Jimin to see his expression in the darkness.
“Thank you for saving me,” Jimin whispered.
Yoongi didn’t say anything, but he gave his hand another gentle squeeze before
letting go. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and rolled over again, his
back to Jimin this time. Despite the outpouring of his heart just moments ago,
Jimin felt like a wall had just been put up between them. He muffled a sigh and
turned his own back to Yoongi, closing his eyes and attempting to sleep.
 
 “No, no, no, no, please!Don’t, no don’t—”
“Jimin—”
“Please, please, please—Y-YOONGI!”
“Jimin! Wake up!”
Jimin jolted back into awareness, unable to see much of anything in the dark,
but he could just make out Yoongi’s face hovering above his. He let out a sob
and reached for him. He’d been blocking it out, but he suddenly remembered how
he had called out to Yoongi for help without thinking during Chris’s attack.
It took several minutes of Yoongi rubbing his back and whispering words of
comfort for Jimin to calm down again. He fell asleep without another word,
curled tightly against the other man.
 
When Jimin awoke in the morning, Yoongi was sitting against the wall to the
side of the mattress, head inches from the low ceiling as he scrolled through
his phone. He looked up when he heard Jimin shift.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiled. “I didn’t wanna go downstairs before you woke
up on your own.”
“Mm. You didn’t have to,” he said as he kicked off the blanket, but he was
thankful.
It was as they were sitting in the kitchen, munching on cereal for breakfast,
that Yoongi cleared his throat.
“Jimin,” he started, sounding extremely nervous, which was unlike him. “I got
offered a job. A proper job, producing music full time.”
Jimin broke out into a genuine smile. “That’s great! When do—”
Yoongi interrupted him. “I have to move to South Korea. The job’s in Seoul.”
Jimin went cold. This was it. Yoongi was abandoning him. Of course, he had
every right to, and Jimin wouldn’t dream of holding him back from doing what he
loved, but it still hurt all the same. He was silent for a moment.
“When do you leave?” his voice was barely audible.
“As soon as my visa’s ready. I already talked with my landlord.”
“Oh.” Jimin bit his lip. “Congratulations,” he forced out, unable to help how
dead his voice sounded.
But then Yoongi said, “Do you…want to come with me?”
Jimin startled. “What? But I, I can’t,” he pointed out miserably. He’d heard
the cliché expression ‘heartbreaking’ before in so many books and movies and
songs, but it was only now that he thought he had a better idea of what it
actually felt like. The more he thought about Yoongi leaving him, moving to
South Korea, the more it felt like cold, splintering cracks were spreading
through his chest.
“Why can’t you, though?”
“I don’t have any money, first of all, and second, I don’t have a passport. You
know that. Everything I have is right here,” he hit the folder sitting on the
counter which held all of his documents, as well as the three-hundred
dollars—of which Yoongi had point-blank refused to accept any of, despite Jimin
pointing out all of the expenses he’d been costing Yoongi.
“I can pay your way. I have enough saved.”
“No. You’re not spending any more money on me, Yoongi,” Jimin protested.
“You can pay me back as soon as you get a job. We can even keep a record of it,
if it makes you feel better. I promise I won’t charge interest.”
Jimin hesitated. “I can’t speak Korean, though.”
“You’ll learn. I can teach you.”
Jimin was silent, holding Yoongi’s gaze, trying to think past the despair he
felt.
“Look, Jimin. Do you want to come? Don’t think about all of the extra stuff,”
he added quickly. “I mean do you…would you want to come with me if I go.”
“Yes, of course I want to. But—”
“Then let’s make it happen. You need a passport? We’ll get you a passport. Need
a visa? We’ll do that, too. I already discussed all of the possible trip-ups
with Namjoon. He’s already started looking into dance studios and schools for
you, if that’s what you’re interested in. You can start with a blank slate.
Obviously, I’m not asking you to live with me forever. Once you’re back on your
feet, you can do whatever you want. I just want to give you this chance.”
Jimin suddenly realized what Yoongi had been discussing with Namjoon all this
time. They had been trying to help him. He had assumed that they were trying to
keep a secret from him, but really, they had just been trying to work out the
complications before asking, to make sure it would work.
“I…Yoongi, are you sure you want to do this for me? We’ve barely known each
other for a couple weeks.”
“Well by the time we get you a passport and both of us visas, it’ll be much
more than a couple weeks, so you can always back out later.”
They stared at each other silently for a moment. So many things were running
around Jimin’s mind, it was hard to think. The one thing he could focus on was:
Yoongi wasn’t abandoning Jimin. He wanted to bring Jimin with him. For them to
leave the country together.
“Okay.” Jimin let himself smile. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter End Notes
     Ugh, this chapter was really hard to write. I feel like all of the
     scenes were so choppy and didn’t connect together as well as usual.
     There were multiple scenes that had to be written, but stringing them
     together was such a pain. I really hope it sounded better to you
     guys! I'm mostly satisfied with how it turned out. It was a mess
     before, though.
     Oh, and I know it's horrible of me, but I kind of burst out laughing
     when I wrote the "You don't talk to me anymore" because Jimin had
     been singing the "We don't talk anymore" song two chapters ago. That
     line was unintentional, though.
     Gaaah they ALMOST kissed! We were so close! But no. Hahahaa. As much
     as I'd love to do that, Yoongi just isn't......I can't say yet.
     Anyway, I'm excited for the next chapter, because a bunch of small,
     yet significant things happen!!
     As always, thanks for reading! Thanks for the kudos! We passed 100!
     Don't forget to comment!
***** Chapter VIII *****
Chapter Notes
     Are you all done freaking out over the comeback yet? I had to work
     straight through the release and couldn't check until I got home
     super late since my boss had to drive me home instead of me taking
     the train because of landslides from the typhoon that hit us Sunday
     night. And then I freaked out because I couldn't find the album on
     iTunes at first (I prefer Amazon, but for some reason I haven't been
     able to buy any digital music since moving overseas). Luckily I
     eventually bought the album, and listened to it over and over again
     all night! Jimin's voice is sooooo good in all of the songs. I wish
     there was a little more rapping; their style feels so different this
     album--but even the songs I wasn't sure about at first are growing on
     me.
     I also freaked at all of the Yoonmin in the MV oh my god hahaha.
     Anyway, here's an especially long chapter for you! I listened to Zara
     Larsson's 'Ain't My Fault' loudly on repeat throughout most of second
     half of the chapter (you can probably guess when, lol). It also
     reminded me of the fact that Uber exists, which saved Yoonmin from a
     trip on public transportation this chapter, haha. Here's a link if
     you're interested: https://youtu.be/eC-F_VZ2T1c
See the end of the chapter for more notes
VIII.
 
Yoongi suggested that they wait until Jimin’s face had healed before going to
apply for a passport, since he’d need to take photos. In the meantime, they did
research on everything they’d need. Yoongi was lucky; his future boss was
taking care of his visa application—Yoongi only needed to fill out the paper
and send it to him with a copy of his passport and two photos. Jimin, on the
other hand, was turning out to be a special case. He’d been born in Korea, but
his parents moved to the States when he was a baby. When they’d been killed in
the car accident when Jimin was four (he’d been the sole survivor of the crash,
thanks to his child car seat), no one had been able to contact his relatives,
so he was put into a children’s home, and then into the foster system. When Zoe
and Chris adopted him four years later, they had gone through all of the
paperwork to make Jimin an American citizen. Thankfully, otherwise this whole
process would have been even more complicated.
“You know,” Yoongi said as they scrolled through the Department of State
website together, “since you were born in Korea, you qualify for dual
citizenship.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, but you need to be living in Korea when you apply for it. But it’s an
option you can think about. Just…keep in mind that if you do decide to take
back your Korean citizenship, you’ll have to complete military service before
you’re twenty-nine.”
Jimin blanched. “Military service?!”
“Yeah, all Korean men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine have a two-
year mandatory military service stint. Even the silly little pop stars. If you
wait too long, you get drafted. Big name actors have been pulled out of movie
filming due to the draft.”
“Why does everyone have to go into the military, though?” Jimin frowned. It
sounded like something from the forties or sixties.
“You do know they’re technically still at war with North Korea, right?”
“Uh,” Jimin felt embarrassed. “I guess?” Maybe he’d missed that part of history
class. He watched the news occasionally with Chris, but that was about it. He
wasn’t allowed on the computer without supervision, and they didn’t get a
newspaper delivered. He wasn't sure he wanted to join the military, whether it
was South Korea or the U.S., and just the idea of it scared him a little.
A few days later, the swelling had gone down, and Jimin put on some concealer
over the last of the bruises so they could go take photos at the drugstore.
They had to retake Jimin's several times because he was so tired from lack of
sleep, making him appear almost stoned in his photos.
"Sweetheart, close your eyes, and then on the count of three, open them really
wide," the nice woman taking their photos instructed. "I know you'll feel
silly, but I swear it works."
Jimin sighed and did as she said, and finally the picture looked all right. Not
amazing, or anything to be proud of, but at least he didn't look like a
druggie.
They thanked the woman (Yoongi turned out to be extremely photogenic, much to
Jimin's chagrin; he was finished with the first try) and headed out to grab
lunch before going on home. They spent the evening putting together everything
he needed for the passport application, and after yet another sleepless night
filled with nightmares, they were standing in line at the post office to hand
everything in. 
"Jimin, you didn't get a chance to finish high school, right?" Yoongi asked
quietly as they waited in line. Jimin startled from his dazed state and looked
at him. 
"Huh?" 
"When we get to Korea, you could even enroll in an international school to
complete your GED if you want."
"I don't know," Jimin shrugged, too sleepy to think about it. 
"There are plenty of other things you can do to earn a living that don't
involve having a high school diploma, too. Either way, it's your choice, okay?
Don't feel like I'm trying to push you one way or the other."
Jimin was too exhausted to care about the conversation. Yoongi seemed to notice
and dropped it.
They successfully handed in the application. 
"How long will it take?" Yoongi asked the man behind the counter.
"Six to eight weeks, unless you want to expedite it? Are you going somewhere
soon?"
"Yeah, we're moving overseas because of a job I got, but I have to wait for my
visa, so it could be a couple months. Not really sure. Never done this before."
"Well you can pay to have it expedited, or you can wait for it like everyone
else. As long as you didn't lie about anything on your application, and
everything's in order, there shouldn't be any delays."
Yoongi looked at Jimin, the cogs in his head almost visible. He seemed to come
to a decision, and turned back. "Let's expedite it. He needs to apply for a
visa as well, but he needs a passport for that. How much extra is it?" He
pulled out his credit card.
 
Maybe it was the nightmares eating away at his sleep, maybe it was the change
of weather as autumn began to send out its long, chilly fingers into the final
days of summer. But Jimin woke up one morning feeling like he’d been run over
by a truck and dunked in a pot of boiling molasses. He could barely lift his
arms or legs, and just opening his eyes made him want to close them again and
sleep for a year. He could feel sweat dripping down his body, his shirt and
pants clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He turned his head, realizing Yoongi
wasn’t there. He sighed and closed his eyes.
 
Someone was shaking him. Now they were patting his face, and touching his
forehead. He mumbled out an irritated groan, but didn’t bother opening his
eyes.
“Jimin. Come on, wake up. Have you been like this all day?”
He slit his eyes open, a dark, blurry shadow hovering over him. He closed his
eyes again.
“Shit.”
 
A thin, cold object was pushed into his mouth, shoved uncomfortably under his
tongue. He whined, trying to push it away, but a pair of cool hands held it
firmly in place until it beeped and was removed.
“Fuck.”
A cool, wet cloth was placed on his forehead, bangs pushed back out of the way
by gentle fingers. He leaned into the touch, and the fingers continued slipping
through his hair as the cloth weighed heavily on his forehead. He scrunched up
his face when the cloth became too warm, and he pushed it away. It returned a
moment later, cool again. He sighed, and everything faded into gray.
 
Jimin frowned when a loud voice broke into the silence of his mind, but he
didn’t fully return to consciousness.
“I don’t know what to do, Eomma. Can you please—yeah, yeah. Uh, a hundred…two
point seven. Ani, I can’t take him to the hospital. It’s complicated. …Ugh,
thank you. Love you. Mm hmm. Right. Bye.”
It went quiet again, and he heard the steps to the loft creak slightly. A hand
touched his cheek. He slipped away.
 
“Ai,” he heard a woman’s voice call him. Child, his brain supplied from
somewhere. “My sweet child,” he heard, the meaning of the once unintelligible
words flowing from the deep recesses of his memory.
“Eomma,” he whimpered, clutching at the woman’s soft hands. “Eomma,” he
repeated. Tears leaked down his cheeks.
There was a low gasp off to the side, but the warm arms drew Jimin closer,
cradling him against the soft chest.
“You’re okay,” she whispered in those special words again, stroking his hair. 
Jimin felt himself disappearing once more.
 
Much later, Jimin woke up to the sound of computer keyboard clicking. He didn’t
make any noise as he opened his eyes, simply staring up at the ceiling. He
realized he was down on the sofa, nestled amongst blankets. He didn’t remember
climbing down from the loft, though. Had Yoongi moved him, somehow? He couldn’t
imagine Yoongi having the strength to carry his dead weight down those steps.
He remembered the woman’s voice from his dream. It had felt so real, but her
voice hadn’t seemed familiar. Only her words. And there was clearly no one else
in the apartment. It must have been just that, a dream.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
Jimin blinked and turned his head.
“Hi,” Yoongi said.
“Hi.” Jimin sat up with a groan. He had no strength.
“Careful. You’ve been sick with a bad fever for the past three days. I tried
feeding you some soup and rice congee, but I doubt it was very sustaining.”
Jimin frowned. He felt shaky, and weak, but otherwise his mind was wonderfully
clear.
“How are you feeling?”
He smiled slightly. “Like I need to piss, real bad.”
Yoongi cracked up, and stood. “That’s ‘cause I loaded you full of water while
you were out. You need a hand to the bathroom?”
“Uh,” Jimin pushed himself to his feet, grasping Yoongi’s elbow momentarily
before letting go. “I can make it, I think.”
“’Kay. Just yell if you fall into the toilet,” he teased.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Ah, you have no idea how good that sounds to my ears.”
Jimin flicked him the bird and then made his way to the bathroom.
 He didn't fall into the toilet. But it was exhausting standing upright. 
  
 "I’m really glad you’re feeling better, because I've got a show on Saturday
night." They were chilling downstairs, Jimin wrapped in a thick blanket as he
sat on the sofa, watching Yoongi fiddle around on his computer as usual.
"A show? What do you mean?"
"There's a rap show in Koreatown. Well, there’s other stuff, too. But it’s the
rap I’ll be there for. I'm performing. It's been scheduled for more than two
months." 
"Cool. Wish I could see that.” Jimin hadn’t thought about the fact that Yoongi
probably did this on a regular basis. It was hard to imagine the other man
rapping. Somehow even though he’d been working on music nearly every day, Jimin
hadn’t heard him rap yet. “I wanna see you rap someday."
Yoongi gave him an odd look. "Why can't you? I can get you in free. It's not a
problem."
Jimin felt strange, wanting to say, Because I’d be alone when you’re on stage,
so he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Of course. You can hang out with my friend Hobi while I’m on stage, and then
I’ll join you guys right after so we can all enjoy the rest of the night.”
 
Jimin had never been to a club before. He got the feeling that Yoongi would
just tell him not to worry about it, but he couldn’t help it. He’d seen movies.
People always dressed a certain way at clubs. Should he dress differently?
Should he style his hair? But then again this was a rap show. Didn’t people
dress grungier at those kinds of things? Or was that rock gigs? He said there’d
be other stuff, too, though. It was Koreatown, so maybe Kpop? Jimin didn’t know
anything about that, although he knew enough from when he was in school that it
was the new cool thing.
He was lost in the middle of these thoughts when a weird smell hit his nose. He
sat up straight, looking around. Was that…bleach? It smelled awful, so much so
that his temples started hurting. He got up from the sofa. Yoongi had
disappeared into the bathroom quite a while ago. Jimin glanced at the clock.
A very long time ago. He walked over to the bathroom door, where the smell was
stronger, and knocked.
“Yoongi? Are you…okay? What’s that weird smell? It’s giving me a headache.”
The door opened, and a wave of the chemical smell hit him full in the face,
making him cough. Yoongi stood there with goop in his currently orange hair,
reeking of chemicals. Jimin’s mouth dropped open.
“What are you doing?”
“Bleaching my hair, what does it look like?”
“You’re not supposed to do that yourself! You’re supposed to get it
professionally done! You’re either going to turn into a carrot-top, or you’re
going to get bleach poisoning. I can’t believe you right now.”
“Oh, chill out, I’ve done this before. I know what I’m doing. I’m on my third
application right now. As soon as this one is washed out, I’ll do a fourth
application and then be done with it.”
“What color are you aiming for?”
“What, you don’t want to be surprised?”
“I’m already surprised enough as it is.”
Luckily, Yoongi did not turn into a carrot-top, and he also didn’t get bleach
poisoning. Although Jimin was sure he had from the fumes alone. When Yoongi
came out of the bathroom ages later, hair damp but starting to dry, Jimin’s
eyes widened. His hair was nearly white, it was so blond.
“I can’t decide if it makes you look older or younger,” Jimin blurted out,
earning himself a scowl.
“’The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, both are good!” Jimin felt himself blushing. “It suits you.”
Yoongi shrugged. “I sure hope so, ‘cause I don’t have time to change it.”
 
In the end Jimin decided to wear a simple, black, long-sleeved t-shirt tucked
into the front of his loose, heavily ripped jeans with his favorite black
combat boots. He put a little wax in his hair just to make it not lie as flat
as usual, pushing it back from his forehead. He knew it made him look older
whenever he did that. He put his usual earrings in, and then that was it. When
Yoongi saw him, he nodded in approval.
“Nice and simple, I like it. I admit, I was worried you were gonna be one of
those guys who has to dress up all fucking crazy just to impress people at the
club.”
“I don’t need to impress anyone,” Jimin shrugged.
A wide grin split across Yoongi’s face. “That, you don’t.” He clapped him on
the back. “Come, on, let’s get going. The Uber’s almost here.”
Yoongi planned to drink, and unfortunately even though Jimin wouldn’t be
drinking, he also didn’t have a license. When they were almost to the club,
Yoongi turned to him.
“Oh, I almost forgot. When we’re at the club, you need to call me ‘Suga.’ My
rap act is Agust D, but my stage name is Suga.”
“Why do you need two names? Why not just pick one?”
“Because I used the name Suga first, back when I was in high school, doing
YouTube videos to get my music out, but when I started getting more serious
about producing music and all, I switched to Agust D. But you can’t really get
rid of a name everyone knows, so I just treat it like my actual name.”
“Suga,” Jimin tried it out, and then grinned. “I kinda like it. Even if it does
sound a little like a stripper name," he teased.
“Shut up, oh my god.” Yoongi feigned hitting him, and Jimin cackled, throwing
his hands up in defense. It felt so good goofing off with Yoongi like this. It
was like every time they did, a little bit of his old self washed away, leaving
a clean, brighter person peeking out from within.
 
When they got to the club, Jimin was given a yellow bracelet—underage—and
Yoongi was given a green one—over twenty-one. Jimin felt embarrassed having his
age made so obvious, and kept trying to pull his sleeve down over the bracelet,
which Yoongi definitely thought was funny.
“Seriously, no one gives a shit,” he pointed out. It’s just so the bartenders
don’t get in trouble for sneaky teenagers. Plus, there are a lot of native
Koreans who come here, and might be used to drinking back in Korea, but then
they come here and it’s illegal.”
“Why, what’s the drinking age over there?”
“Twenty, but because of the way they count their ages, sometimes it’s more like
the legal drinking age is 19.”
“Ah.” Jimin nodded, as if he knew what Yoongi was talking about, even though he
didn’t. Korean counted their ages differently? What did that even mean? But now
was not the time to be asking in-depth questions like that. He glanced around,
feeling the beat of the music pulse in his stomach. It looked like there was
just a DJ on the stage at the moment, playing typical club music; the heavy,
sexy kind that Jimin usually saw in movies and TV shows. It made him want to
close his eyes and dance, but Yoongi had other ideas.
“Come on, let’s go find Hobi.” Yoongi pushed him through the crowd, hand on his
shoulder to lead him.
“The man of the hour has arrived!”
Jimin heard him before he knew who to be looking at. All of a sudden, he’d been
pushed to the side as Yoongi was swallowed by a hearty hug—and by hearty, he
meant filled with painful-looking slaps to the back.
Grimacing, Yoongi dislodged himself from the light brown haired man who had
accosted him. He had a narrow, distinctly attractive face with a long nose. He
was wearing a simple red t-shirt and black jeans, with a beanie on his head.
“Whoa, who’s this, Suga-hyung?” He noticed Jimin hovering close to Yoongi’s
side.
“This is my friend Jimin,” Yoongi introduced simply. “Jimin, this is Hoseok,
although most of his friends call him Hobi.”
“Nice to meet you…is it okay if I call you Hobi?”
“How old are you?”
“Huh? I’m, uh, nineteen? Almost twenty. Why?”
“So I’m your hyung.”
Jimin looked to Yoongi for explanation, but just got a shake of the head. “I’ll
explain another time. Hobi, he doesn’t speak Korean or know anything about the
culture, so you’re just going to have to deal with him not calling you
‘hyung.’”
“How does that not bother you?”
“What? I’m used to it. I didn’t grow up in Korea like you did. First generation
American, right here,” he said sarcastically. “Anyway, Hobi here is also a
rapper, but he’s not performing tonight.”
“Yeah, just here to enjoy the show and give Agust D my support, as always!” he
declared cheerfully. “And let out some moves on the dance floor, of course.”
“Oh,” Yoongi put his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck, pulling him forward a
little. “Jimin also dances. You guys can let loose together. Just not during my
performance. I demand absolute attention.” He smirked.
Jimin found himself staring at Yoongi, a little surprised at the way he was
acting. It was like…he was exuding swag, but in the most endearing way. Jimin
fought against the smile that was trying to break from his lips.
“Suga-ssi,” a man with an ear set in and a black “STAFF” t-shirt appeared
behind them, and Yoongi turned. “It’s just about time to head back.”
“Right, thanks.” He swung briefly back to Jimin and Hoseok, squeezing both
their shoulders. “See you guys later. I can leave Jimin with you, right, Hobi?”
“’Course. We’ll have loads of fun without you, hyung.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Yoongi smiled, no bite to his words. With one last glance at
Jimin, he headed off backstage.
Once Yoongi was gone, Hoseok began talking Jimin’s ear off, mostly telling him
stories about Yoongi that Jimin was sure that the older man wouldn’t appreciate
being common knowledge. It only took about five minutes for Hobi to declare
Jimin was “adorable,” and then he continuously tried to make Jimin nearly fall
over himself with laughter.
The lights flickered suddenly, and then a siren noise started up. At first
Jimin tensed, worried, but then he realized it was coming from the speakers,
and was accompanied by a heavy beat. A moment later, ‘Agust D’ walked out on
stage, face shadowed by his white snapback, mask stretched between his ears
under his chin as he spit out lyrics at a speed Jimin couldn’t believe.
Yoongi’s stage presence was incredible, sending chills down Jimin’s spine. He
was sure he had goosebumps up and down his arms.
It took him half a minute to realize that Yoongi wasn’t rapping in English,
although there were English words thrown in here and there, like “you can’t
control my shit” and swears galore.
A hand tapped his chin, and he flinched, pulling away.
“You were drooling,” Hoseok teased, winking at him.
“Was not,” Jimin countered, folding his arms. He felt his cheeks warm up, and
was thankful for the dark lighting.
“Hey, what you say we do exactly what Suga-hyung told us not to do?”
“Huh?”
“Let’s dance!”
Hobi dragged him closer to the stage, where people were either nodding to the
beat or dancing hip hop style. Jimin felt a little lost at first; he’d never
danced to anything like what Yoongi was doing. But then he let the beat seep
into his body, and he began to move slightly to the music. Nothing crazy, just
enough for the people around him to give him and Hobi some space. Jimin kept
his eyes on Yoongi the entire time, and when their eyes finally connected, he
felt a surge of heat shoot through him. The rapper held his gaze for a few
seconds, a sideways grin on his lips before looking away over the crowd.
The rest of the performance was even better. Agust D performed three songs in
all, and Jimin absolutely loved the third one. It started off with an almost
classical feel, with piano and violin, and the rapping steadily crescendoed
throughout the song until it reached a peak where Agust D was nearly shouting
the lyrics. Jimin couldn't understand the words, but he could feel Yoongi's
emotion. 
"Sick, huh?" Hobi shouted in his ear, startling him. He nodded, at a loss for
words. 
 
As much as he enjoyed watching Agust D perform, Jimin was happy when Yoongi
returned to them, dripping in sweat and full of adrenaline in his eyes. 
"I need a drink!" he exclaimed, dragging them over to the bar. 
Jimin sipped at the virgin piña colada Yoongi ordered for him while he and Hobi
drank beers and shots before they switched to more sophisticated drinks. He
felt a little envious of them, wanting to share in the buzz they were obviously
feeling. Everything was so sharp and clear for Jimin. He tugged his sleeve over
the yellow bracelet and reached for Yoongi’s glass of gin and tonic while the
other man was paying attention to something Hoseok was saying.
He yelped when a hand clamped down on his wrist before he could even touch the
glass. “What do you think you’re doing?” He looked up guiltily into Yoongi’s
surprisingly sharp eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.”
“Come on, Yoo—I mean Suga,” Jimin caught himself just in time. “Just a sip?”
Yoongi seemed to be considering it, but then Hobi held out his own glass of
tequila. Yoongi snatched it before it could reach Jimin’s lips.
“I said ‘no,’” Yoongi snapped, slamming the glass down on the counter. It
spilled a little.
Hoseok snorted, “I wasn’t going to let him have much. Chill, Suga-hyung.”
“You’re no fun,” Jimin sighed, drawing his hand back and looking down at a
stain on the counter. “This is boring being the only one—” he stopped when he
felt a cool glass against his lips. His eyes shot up to Yoongi’s face. He
wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning.
“One sip, okay? Mine’s not as strong as straight-up tequila.”
Jimin took a second before he reached up to support the glass from the bottom.
Their fingers brushed, and even though they’d certainly touched more than that
before, Jimin felt his heart racing. He tried to push the feeling aside as he
tipped the glass up a little and let the clear liquid flow into his mouth.
Yoongi immediately pulled the glass away and took a much larger gulp from it,
nearly finishing it off. Jimin let the drink swirl around his mouth briefly
before he swallowed, grimacing slightly at the burn.
“Good?” Hobi broke into his reverie, and he half nodded, half shrugged.
“Kinda hard to tell from that baby swallow,” Jimin smirked, and got a kick in
the shins from Yoongi.
“You’re not getting any more.”
 
Jimin and Yoongi stumbled back into the apartment in the early hours of the
morning, laughing as Jimin struggled to keep Yoongi from losing his balance.
He’d ended up drinking more than Jimin had expected he would, and now he was
laughing at everything Jimin did. If Jimin wasn’t so tired, he’d find it
amusing, but right now he just wanted to climb into bed and sleep.
“Seriously, Yoongi,” he pouted, trying to get Yoongi to take his shoes off, “if
you could just—”
Yoongi burst out laughing, doubling up, and grabbed onto Jimin’s middle to keep
from falling over completely. He reached up blindly to try patting Jimin on the
head, but only got as far as his cheek. “Stop trying to be so cute,” he fake-
frowned before dropping his hand and using both arms to clamp onto him.
What? Startled, Jimin didn’t do anything for a second, just staring down at the
man wrapped around his waist.
“Ah, shoes,” Yoongi said suddenly, and somehow managed to kick them both off
without untying them. One hit Jimin in the shin, and he protested in pain.
“Careful!”
“Sorry, Jiminie,” Yoongi grinned, not sounding sorry at all, and then threw his
arms around Jimin’s shoulders. This time Jimin felt a different kind of tension
compared to the one he felt at the bar. The way Yoongi was acting made him
uneasy.
“Let’s, let’s get you to bed, Yoongi,” he said, voice a little shaky as he led
the other man through the small apartment. He knew there was no way he’d get
Yoongi to wash up or brush his teeth in this state, so he just helped him out
of his jacket and took off his cap before shoving and pulling him up the steps
to the loft. Once on the bed, Yoongi tried pulling Jimin down with him, but in
a panic, Jimin yanked his arm away, breathing heavily. They stared at each
other, Yoongi through hazy but intense eyes, and then Jimin grabbed one of the
blankets and bundled it into his arms. He nearly fell as he scrambled down the
steps.
He felt better once he was on the ground. He took a gulp of air, and then went
to change and brush his teeth.
 
 Jimin woke up to the sound of a loud groan coming from the loft. His eyelids
fluttered, and he pulled the blanket closer around him, keeping his entire body
buried in his tightly curled up position on the sofa. It was much colder
downstairs than up in the loft.
“Ji…Jimin?” He heard the thud of a hand coming down hard on the loft banister,
and then a sharp intake of breath. “Oh shit; fuck, what did I do?” The steps
creaked a few times before a much louder thud hit the floor before shuffling
over to him. A hand pulled at the blanket just a little, and a hand touched his
head.
“Jimin?”
He shifted, keeping the blanket around him, but opening his eyes and looking
up.
“Are…you okay? Why are you sleeping down here?” Yoongi grimaced, and Jimin
wondered if it was due to a hangover, or something else. “I didn’t, I didn’t do
anything to you, did I?”
Jimin shook his head. “You didn’t.”
“Then why…” Yoongi trailed off. He gestured to the sofa.
“You didn’t do anything, but you,” Jimin buried himself a little deeper into
the blanket, muffling his voice, “you were a little more…friendly than usual,”
he ended up saying. “I thought it was better to sleep down here.”
“God I’m so sorry.”
“’S okay.”
“The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable, Jimin. You shouldn’t
have had to sleep down here. I’m really sorry. And I won’t let myself get
carried away like last night again.”
“It’s fine,” Jimin insisted, finally sitting up. He didn’t want them to be
awkward, and he was scared that Yoongi would pull away from him even more than
he already was. “Last night was really fun. Thank you for bringing me along.”
Yoongi looked like he had caught onto Jimin’s diversion, but he allowed the
digression.
“You had fun?”
“Yeah, it was awesome. You’re really sick when you rap on stage. But seriously,
Yoongi, are all your friends Korean?”
Yoongi sputtered, and turned to head toward the coffeemaker. “’Course not. You
should meet my friend Tony. You’d like him. But you probably only come up to
his elbows,” he added, and smirked at Jimin’s offended expression.
“I’m not that short!”
Chapter End Notes
     This chapter was SO MUCH FUN to write hahaha. (I suppose I should tag
     Hobi now?) It was a roller coaster of emotions for me, though.
     Guuh the scene with Yoongi's mom got me bad. I imagine Yoongi being
     one of those kids who speaks in a combination of English and Korean
     with his parents. And Jimin...spoke Korean! It's in there, somewhere.
     The trauma from his accident locked away most of his memory from
     before he was four, but we got to see a little trickle of it. He just
     needed some mother's love. ;_; (Btw, I don't speak Korean, although I
     am trying to learn. So if the Korean I use is wrong, PLEASE TELL ME
     so I can fix it. I will love you forever. hehe)
     I'm aiming to have another chapter up before/by Saturday JST, because
     I'm going on vacation for a week and probably won't be able to write/
     update while I'm out of the country. If I can't make it by Saturday,
     I'm SO SORRY in advance. (I have so much to do before I leave,
     though. *dies*)
     Thanks for reading, and don't forget to comment!
     Until next time!
***** Chapter IX *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm back! I had basically no time to myself during the entire week I
     was on vacation, because I ended up babysitting my adorable nephew
     nearly every single day, hahaha. So it wasn't quite the relaxing time
     I expected, but I still had a good time. It was a little strange
     being back in the States, though. Had a few reverse culture shock
     moments, although luckily nothing too crazy.
     But I missed working on this story SO much that I wrote on my cell
     phone on my flights, and found secluded areas in the airports to
     write on my computer...and I just couldn't wait to update. (And now
     I'm wide awake because of jet lag...)
     So this chapter isn't quite as long as I wanted, because I cut it off
     before the next important scene, which I'm still trying to decide
     where to place, so this'll give me more of a chance to make sure it's
     all perfect before posting. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
IX.
 
There wasn’t much for Jimin and Yoongi to do while they waited for the passport
and visa to come back, respectively. It wasn’t a big deal if Jimin couldn’t get
a long-term visa before they moved, although it would be more complicated (and
frowned on) to get the visa from within Korea. He had ninety days as an
American, but there was a special visa he could get as a Korean descendent,
which was what they were aiming for so he could stay longer if he couldn't find
a job in time that offered him a work visa.
Jimin brought up the subject of last names one day while chatting with Yoongi.
His birth certificate had his original surname, Park, but it had been changed
when he was adopted. Jimin wanted his original name back now that he had no
reason to have a connection to his adopted family. Unfortunately, changing
names would be too complicated at this point, so Yoongi told him to wait until
they got to Korea, and then he could decide whether he was going to switch
citizenship, because everything would be a lot of paperwork and waiting, which
they didn’t have time for right now. It was disappointing, but Jimin
understood.
 
Yoongi began teaching Jimin basic Korean. It was a little bit of a mess. Yoongi
had never tried teaching anyone a language before, and other than the Spanish
classes Jimin had taken in school, he didn’t consider himself very good at
learning languages. Yoongi seemed convinced he would pick it up, though.
“I just don’t understand where your confidence is coming from,” Jimin
complained one afternoon, leaning over his notebook with his head propped up on
one hand. A headache was blooming between his temples.
“I know it’s in there somewhere,” he said stubbornly, tapping Jimin’s skull.
“We just have to figure out how to get it out again.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Yoongi.”
“Yoongi-hyung.”
Jimin groaned. “Yoongi-hyung.” He wrinkled up his nose. “Why do I have to add
that to your name every time? It’s so annoying. It feels like I’m calling you
‘Mr. Yoongi.’”
Yoongi snorted. “It’s not ‘Mr.,’ it’s more like ‘older brother’ or ‘big bro.’”
“I don’t want to call you ‘brother,’” Jimin exclaimed, horrified and just a
little bit disgusted with his train of thought.
“It’s not—Jimin, no, it just means I’m older than you, that we’re both guys,
and that we’re close. You wouldn’t call a stranger ‘hyung,’ Usually you can
only drop honorifics if you’re really close, and both agree to drop them.”
“Okay, then can we agree to drop them?” Jimin put on his best puppy eyes. “I
like calling you just ‘Yoongi’ best.”
Yoongi visibly swallowed, looking almost sick for a second, and then looked
away from him, focusing on the book. “When we’re alone it’s okay. Otherwise you
should practice.”
Jimin frowned. He suddenly felt like he was missing something.
“Okay, fine.”
 
“Hey, Jimin, my mom invited us to dinner at their restaurant on Tuesday, is
that okay with you?”
“’Us’? Your mom knows about me?”
“Uh, yeah? It’s kind of hard to avoid mentioning the fact that I live with
someone when I’m talking with my family. My parents have known since the first
week you were here.”
“Oh. How much do they know?”
“Just that you’d been in an abusive adopted family, and I got you out. That’s
literally the extent of the details I gave them. It’s not lying, but I didn’t
think it was my business to tell.” He shrugged. “So should I tell them yes?”
It felt strange having his situation summed up in such an easy way. It was so,
so much more complicated, and so much more traumatic than that. But Yoongi was
right; it wasn't technically untrue. Jimin nodded. “Sure. Are you sure it’s
okay if I go?”
“They invited you, too, pabo.”
Jimin knew what that meant, now. In addition to useful phrases, and learning
how to read and write, Yoongi thought it was important to know insults and
swears. Of course, this meant that he often used them on Jimin when he wanted
to tease him. Jimin felt a little childish when he used them back, but Yoongi
seemed to get a kick out of it. 
“Why Tuesday, though? Why not the weekend?”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows, multiple things crossing his face, all of which
Jimin couldn’t really read. But then the older man just shrugged. “I dunno,
that was the day she said. Maybe it’s easier for them on Tuesdays. I expect
weekends to get busy at the restaurant, you know?”
“Oh, right. I suppose.”
 
Jimin found himself getting nervous about meeting Yoongi’s family. He kept
fidgeting and talking about the most random things, just to take his mind off
of it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi said finally, exasperated. “They’ll love you.”
“How do you know that? I’m leeching off their son and—”
“No you’re not, stop saying that.”
“I am, though,” he insisted. “I should try to find a job.”
“That’s a good idea, but not right now. I’ll help you look for places in a few
days.”
“But still, I just…what am I supposed to talk to them about? And, will your
older brother be there? How many people do I have to meet?”
Yoongi took Jimin’s face between his hands, squishing his cheeks slightly, and
shook his head back and forth as he gave Jimin a kind but mocking look. Jimin
squirmed, pouting. He felt like a little kid getting made fun of.
“Relax. It’ll just be my mom and dad. My brother couldn’t get off work for the
evening. It’ll be just like eating in a restaurant, except we don’t have to
pay. Don’t think so much. I promise you they’ll be nice, and I know you’ll
enjoy yourself.” He released Jimin’s slightly pink cheeks and ruffled his hair
before turning away.
Jimin closed his eyes momentarily to calm himself, but not for the reasons
Yoongi said. Every time the other man touched him, or looked at him in a
certain way, he thought he was going to suffocate from the intensity of the
emotions rushing through him. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his
feelings, but Yoongi didn’t seem to feel the same way. He was warm, and
friendly, and didn’t mind being close, but he didn’t give off any indication
that he wanted anything more than friendship from Jimin. He only let Jimin
sleep curled up against him because of the nightmares, but recently Jimin was
sleeping through the night more often. Surely it was only a matter of time
before he got tired of the cuddling.
 
Tuesday rolled around, and they bundled up before hopping onto Yoongi’s scooter
for the forty-minute drive. Fall had arrived, quite suddenly, and although it
wasn’t cold enough yet to see their breath in the late afternoon air, they
still needed proper jackets. Yoongi lent Jimin one of his leather jackets,
which Jimin immediately fell in love with, much to Yoongi’s amusement. Yoongi,
on the other hand, just tossed on his black and gray camo field jacket and
pulled on some gloves. Jimin wrapped his arms tightly around Yoongi’s waist,
sitting closer than was probably necessary, but it was one of the things he
liked about riding the scooter with Yoongi. He could pretend, for a little
while, that there was something more between them.
 
They had to park a little way’s away from the restaurant because of crowded
street parking, and Jimin shivered as they headed up the sidewalk. The
restaurant wasn't small, but it wasn't too big, either. The hostess led them
over to a four-person table in the far side of the dining area, more secluded
than the rest of the restaurant. She told them to wait a few minutes and left
them to head back into the staff area. Jimin looked around while they waited.
The decorations were somewhat typical of what he’d assume a Korean restaurant
looked like, but with the addition of family photos. Yoongi grabbed his wrist
to keep him from standing up to look more closely at one when he realized who
was in the picture.
“Oh my god, I wish they would take these down,” he groused.
“But I want to see your pictures! Is that you in middle school?” He pointed to
a photo of a pair of boys, clearly on a fishing trip. The older of the two was
holding the fishing rod and tackle box, the younger had his arms folded, with
an expression of utter disgust on his face.
“Oh, them? I don’t know them. Maybe they’re distant cousins.”
“Don’t listen to his lies, ai,” Jimin heard behind him. He turned and
experienced the strangest feeling of déjà vu. He assumed this was Yoongi’s
mother, but he’d never seen any photos of her. She had the same smile as Yoongi
did, though, and her eyes were warm. He wasn't sure why, but she was also
younger than he had assumed she would be. Of course it made sense, though;
Yoongi wasn't that much older than he was. And he knew that his own birth
parents had been pretty young themselves when they had died. 
After touching Yoongi's blond hair sadly with a comment about how he was going
to eventually lose all of his hair, the woman stopped by Jimin's seat and
smiled at him. Then, to his surprise, she leaned down and embraced him tightly.
"Jimin, dear, it's so good to see you again. You look so much better now. We
were worried for a bit."
"What?" Had they met before?
She looked startled, and then turned to Yoongi with an expression of
disappointment. "Yoongi! You didn't tell him?"
Yoongi looked guilty.
“Tell me what?” Jimin cut in.
Yoongi’s mother put her hand on his shoulder. "I helped take care of you when
you were sick," she explained.
Jimin suddenly remembered the woman's voice from his dream. If Mrs. Min were to
speak in a whisper, the voice could be the same. He tried to recall everything
he heard from that time, but it was all so fuzzy. 
"I, you," he started intelligently.
Mrs. Min seemed to take pity on him. "It's okay if you don't remember meeting
me, Jimin. You were in a bad way. I'm just happy you're doing better. Now," she
turned to Yoongi, "we have most of the food ready, if you're hungry now. Did
you want a drink tonight, Yoongi?"
"Eomma, I'm driving," Yoongi deadpanned. "But I'll have a Coke. Jimin? What do
you want?"
Jimin blinked. They had moved so quickly from one subject to the next that he
felt like he had whiplash. "Um, I'll just have the same?"
Yoongi's parents sat down on the opposite side of the table after they had
brought the food out. Jimin found a bowl of what looked like seaweed soup set
in front of him.
“Happy Birthday!”
Jimin’s mouth dropped open. “What?” What day was it? He knew it was Tuesday, of
course, but was it already October 13th? “How did you know?”
Yoongi grinned. “I’ve been looking at all of your IDs so much lately, it was
kind of hard to miss,” he teased. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it was that important. I didn’t expect anything.” He really
hadn't. Yoongi had no obligation to do anything for his birthday.
“What, but it’s your 20th birthday, dear!” Yoongi’s mom exclaimed. “It’s a very
important birthday.”
“Yeah, it’s your ‘coming of age’ birthday,” Yoongi pointed out.
 Jimin frowned. "'Coming of age'?"
Yoongi explained about the importance of turning twenty in Korea, and his
father explained about seaweed soup being eaten on birthdays. It was strange to
think that for the first four years of his life, this had been his culture. It
felt so foreign now.
The rest of dinner passed smoothly enough. Jimin had assumed Yoongi's parents
already knew about the job offer, until Yoongi suddenly broke the news to them.
Yoongi's father seemed pleased, congratulating him right away, calling it a
"real job" and saying that he was proud of him. Yoongi's mother, on the other
hand, didn't look as happy.
"You'll be so far away," she pointed out sadly. 
"Well now you'll have more reason to visit Korea."
"You know very well how expensive tickets are, Yoongi."
"And Jimin? What is he planning to do after you leave?" Mr. Min wondered aloud.
"He's coming with me."
Yoongi's father raised his eyebrows and glanced between them, but didn't say
anything. Mrs. Min, however, seemed pleased. 
"Oh, that's wonderful. You can keep an eye on each other," she said.
They spent the rest of dinner discussing all of the details of the job and the
move, and the plans to get Jimin back on his feet. Both of Yoongi’s parents
were encouraging of Jimin going back to Korea. They seemed to think it would be
the very best thing for him to do. Finally, at the end of dinner, a small
tiramisu cake was brought out for everyone to share. It was from a bakery,
rather than homemade, but Jimin didn't care. It was delicious just because he
was sharing it with everyone. It all was so much more than he could have ever
expected, and he was overwhelmingly touched. They had taken him into their care
without expecting anything in return.
The walk back to Yoongi's scooter was silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, but
Jimin could feel it as tangible as the foggy air hovering over the ocean not
far away. Jimin couldn't sort his thoughts. For every kindness given to him by
the Min family, it reminded him of the unforgivable things done by his own
family. 
He didn't cry. But just as they arrived at the scooter, he put a hand out to
stop Yoongi as he was reaching for the keys. He didn't say anything, and he
didn't drop his hand from the older man's sleeve. 
Yoongi seemed to know what he needed. Without a word, he drew Jimin into a hug.
Jimin buried his face in his neck, letting out a long breath of air. They were
standing next to the scooter, just a few feet away and outside of the halo of
light from the street lamp. They stood like that for a long while, Yoongi's
arms tight around him. 
Jimin wasn't sure how long it had been when Yoongi finally pulled back a
little. He took his hand off of Jimin's back and used it to lift Jimin's chin
gently, unsure. Then he leaned forward to kiss him softly. Jimin wanted to say
that he was expecting it; looking back, all the signs were there. But at that
moment, he was startled. He didn’t move. Then again Yoongi didn’t move, either.
It was nothing more than pressure against his lips, which disappeared as Yoongi
pulled back. But this time Jimin was prepared. He pulled Yoongi closer and went
in for a second. It was sweet and slow, and quiet. When they finally broke
apart, they only smiled at each other in the darkness. They still didn’t talk
as they got onto the scooter and rode back to Yoongi’s apartment.
Jimin felt suddenly shy as he kicked off his shoes in the space by the door. He
didn’t know what to say to Yoongi, who was also silent. He could feel himself
getting more and more nervous.
Finally, he couldn’t take the tension anymore, and he hesitantly grabbed for
Yoongi’s hand.
“Yoongi?” They couldn’t just ignore what had happened. Yoongi looked at him,
squeezing his hand back slightly. “Are we? I mean, do you…is this okay?” The
both of them had known how Jimin felt for a while. But was Yoongi just trying
to comfort him, or was it more?
Yoongi pressed his lips together, as if he was thinking. “Is it okay with you?”
Jimin could only nod shyly.
“Then it’s okay with me.”
He looked up at Yoongi. “Really?”
“Really.”
Later, when they climbed into bed, Yoongi gestured for him to sleep close. He
wound their fingers together, and kissed him softly for quite a while before
they finally settled into the pillows to sleep.
 
Other than the fact that there was a constant warm tingling feeling in his
chest, Jimin didn’t feel like that much had changed the next morning. Yoongi
was as grumpy as ever, needing his coffee before starting any kind of
conversation with him. Once that was taken care of, he sat down with Jimin at
his computer and began helping him look for part time jobs. Yoongi didn’t think
it was a good idea to immediately jump into a full time job, not to mention
they didn’t have an exact deadline for their departure.
“But you don’t want to even mention that you’re planning on moving, because
then no one will hire you. You don’t have any obligation other than two weeks’
notice to quit usually, and depending on how useful of a job, you could even
wait until the day of. But I don’t recommend that.”
A few days and many kisses later (Jimin discovered that while Yoongi didn’t
really do lots of touching, he seemed to really enjoy kissing; and Jimin wasn’t
complaining one bit), they managed to find a job at a Korean convenience store.
Yoongi suggested it would be good for getting more language practice without
overwhelming him, because he was still in the States.  
 
Jimin didn’t sleep well the night before his first day. It would be the first
time he was really on his own in more than two years; he’d been constantly
accompanied by Chris wherever they went, and since breaking away from ‘home,’
he’d nearly always been with Yoongi. But this time, he had to do it on his own.
They’d gone out to buy him a cheap cell phone, just a talk and text phone,
added onto Yoongi’s plan for the meantime, and Yoongi said he was working from
home the first day, so if Jimin had any problems, he’d be available.
“I feel stupid for being nervous like this,” Jimin confessed to him as they lay
together that night. “I mean, it’s just a job at a convenience store. And I’m
an adult.”
“Yeah, but you have good reason to feel that way,” Yoongi pointed out. “Don’t
put yourself down for your instincts trying to keep you safe. I’m worried for
you, too, but I know you can handle yourself. Let’s stop worrying about it,
okay?”
Yoongi dropped Jimin off at work the first day, but assured him that he’d need
to get there on his own on any days when he was working at the coffee shop. He
seemed to understand that Jimin didn't want to be babied, and Jimin greatly
appreciated Yoongi making an effort to push him out of his comfort zone, to
become more independent. When Jimin went into the store, there was a tall young
Korean man behind the counter. He had three piercings in the ear facing Jimin,
and his hair was dyed an auburn color.
Taking a settling breath, he walked up to the counter.
“Hi,” he started. “I’m Jimin. Today’s my first day.”
The other man straightened up and grinned. “Hi Jimin,” his voice was much
deeper than Jimin was expecting, “I’m Taehyung.”
Chapter End Notes
     I think that's as good of a place to end as any, right? ;) Taehyung
     is here!!!
     They properly KISSED! Yay! I've been trying to figure out when it was
     the right time. Now seems to be it. And, and, Jimin's not a teenager
     anymore, lol. Maybe that's what was unconsciously holding Yoongi
     back? (Nah, that's just a coincidence. :P )
     PS - Did you all notice how Yoongi definitely got a bit turned on
     when Jimin said he liked calling him just Yoongi? I know a bunch of
     ppl like to write him with a 'hyung' kink, but I feel like you're
     even closer if you don't even use any honorifics at all, because
     that's got to be a situation where the older of the two has to feel
     comfortable enough with the younger to allow that kind of
     "disrespect." But even in public, they've still got to use polite
     terms, which is why sometimes BTS gets scolded by (obnoxious) fans,
     for using casual form during some videos...and why they refer to each
     other as "name-ssi" in interviews and broadcasts a lot of the time.
     Btw I spring-boarded off of my own experiences with work visas (I
     live overseas from my home country) during this chapter, so a lot of
     the things they talk about/deal with are actual, real things that can
     happen when getting a visa, lol.
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! I love comments! They
     give me life.
***** Chapter X *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the long wait! Life got in the way, and it also really
     doesn't help that the 'a' key on my laptop keeps sticking, so I have
     to be especially careful to make sure that all of the 'a's are
     actually there. -_-;
     On that note, I'm pleased to announce that this chapter is especially
     long! Twice as long as usual, actually. I wrote the second half of it
     more than two weeks ago, but then had a lot of trouble with the first
     half. There was a scene intended to be in this chapter that I pushed
     to the next chapter, changing the order of events a little...I hope I
     don't regret it, haha. I'll admit now, Taehyung is really difficult
     for me to write. I hope I did him justice. I'm not as invested in
     keeping up with him as much as I am with Yoongi and Jimin, so that's
     probably why.
     Btw, while writing this chapter, I had BTS's 'Ocean' on repeat for
     most of the first half (not kidding, I just listened over and over. I
     LOVE that song) and then this during the second half: 'Epic chillstep
     collection 2015' https://youtu.be/fWRISvgAygU
     Enjoy!!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
X.
 
Jimin quickly discovered that Taehyung’s English wasn’t the best, although he
was certainly trying, and every once in a while he would spew out phrases that
were much higher than his normal speaking level. Jimin couldn’t help but burst
out into surprised laughter when Taehyung told him to “Shit down,” in the break
room to fill out his paperwork. Jimin felt a little bad, and quickly
apologized, covering his mouth to hide his smile, but Taehyung seemed to be a
good sport and laughed as well.
“Sorry, I don’t speak English,” he said, once he’d stopped chuckling. It seemed
to break the ice a bit, and suddenly Jimin didn’t feel as awkward around him.
 “How old are you?” he asked Jimin later, as he led him over to the coffee
machine. Even though Taehyung had only been at the store since sometime in
September, it seemed he was going to be the one doing most of Jimin’s training.
Their manager occasionally gave extra input, or helped when Taehyung struggled
to explain the more complicated things, but mostly it was just Taehyung and
Jimin.
“I just turned twenty. How about you?”
Taehyung’s eyes lit up. “I’m a ‘95er, too! I am twenty in December. That means
we’re chingu.”
“Friends?” Jimin translated, even though it didn’t really make sense.
Taehyung shook his head. “No, uh, yes! I mean…you’re not my hyung. Same…same
age.”
“Ah. I think I understand.”
Taehyung was in his third year of university, studying fashion design and
photography. He was only in the U.S. for the rest of the semester, though, and
would be back in Seoul by Christmas. Jimin was hesitant to say that he, too,
would probably be in Seoul by then. If Taehyung mentioned it to their boss
without knowing it was a secret, he didn’t want to get in trouble. But Jimin
was happy that he would know someone besides Yoongi (and Namjoon, he supposed)
when he got to Korea. He also didn’t want to jinx it if something went wrong
with his passport and visa.
Even though working at a convenience store wasn’t the most exciting of jobs,
Jimin found himself relishing in the newfound freedom. He had to force himself
to shove aside his shyness to talk to the customers, and having different
people to talk to was doing him a world of good. He still was nervous about
initiating conversation, but he was getting better at responding when they got
a particularly chatty customer. Most people were just rushing in and out,
though, which was a relief.
A week after starting the job, Taehyung invited him to hang out after work.
Jimin’s initial reaction was refusal and suspicion, but before he could even
voice these thoughts, the rest of his brain kicked in. He realized he was being
ridiculous. Of course Taehyung had innocent intentions. Even though it’d only
been a week, Jimin could tell Taehyung was a good, honest person. Sometimes he
was honest to his own detriment, but that was besides the point.
“Uh, what did you want to do?” Jimin asked instead. “I, um, I need to let my,”
he paused, wondering what to call Yoongi, “my roommate know first.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows, but didn’t point out how strange Jimin knew that
sounded. “I don’t know. I thinking just anything?”
“You mean just do whatever? Like um…”
“Noraebang!” Taehyung suddenly exclaimed, excited. “Do you like noraebang?”
It took Jimin a second to remember that noraebang was Korean for karaoke. He
and Yoongi hadn’t talked about noraebang since that one conversation ages ago.
“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” he said.
On his break, he texted Yoongi from his new phone. He missed his old smartphone
from back in high school, but he wouldn’t dream of complaining about the simple
phone to Yoongi. Once he had his own money, he could buy his own smartphone.
‘Taehyung invited me 2 karaoke after work 2nite,’ he typed. He kept changing
his mind before he added, ‘do u think I should go?’ He hit send before he could
backtrack, a weird feeling in his stomach. He was relieved when a reply popped
up almost instantly. Yoongi must have had his phone on him.
‘If you want to go, you should go. It’s good to let go every now and then.’ A
second text came a moment later. ‘As long as you feel safe.’
‘I trust him,’ he sent.
‘Have fun, then. Call if you need a ride home. I’ll be around.’
Jimin locked the screen and put his phone away. It was odd talking with Yoongi
over text. He sounded so casual, so detached, that sometimes it felt like he
and Jimin weren’t really dating. Were they dating? They hadn’t actually gone on
any outings that Jimin would consider dates, although they had done this all in
the wrong order. Honestly the only thing that had changed between them was that
now they kissed a lot at home. They never held hands in public, although that
could have had more to do with the fact that they were both men. 
Yoongi just never seemed to show affection like Jimin was expecting. Granted,
it wasn’t like Jimin had much experience in the romance department—none at all,
if he was being honest with himself—but even so, he’d seen the way friends had
dated. And whatever he and Yoongi were was nothing like that. Even just calling
Yoongi his ‘boyfriend’ felt weird, wrong.
He frowned and shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that.
His phone chimed to let him know break was over, so he sighed and tossed his
phone back into his tiny locker and returned to work.
 
Taehyung just about had a stroke when he found out that Jimin could sing. He
clutched at his heart dramatically and babbled in Korean at Jimin for several
moments before he realized Jimin couldn’t understand a word he was saying.
“So, so amazing! I’m so, impres-sed! Oh my god!”
Jimin laughed, embarrassed, and playfully hit him. “Shut up. You’re not bad
yourself. I wish I could hit deep notes like that.”
They ended up spending three hours in the noraebang booth, dancing and singing,
and making funny videos of each other. Taehyung was very much on top of every
trend, and he quickly figured out that Jimin was way behind on the trends. He
was like a walking meme, Jimin thought with amusement. Taehyung loved doing
impressions of scenes from movies and vines, and he showed Jimin an app that
allowed them to record themselves mouthing to famous vines. Jimin’s stomach
hurt by the end of the night, he’d been laughing so hard.
Taehyung lived on his university campus, on the other side of the city, which
meant he had to take a bus back, so Jimin texted Yoongi for a ride home around
twelve thirty. The only reason he didn’t feel guilty for the late hour was
because he knew Yoongi would be awake anyway, working on his music. When Yoongi
showed up, Jimin was standing alone just outside the bus station.
“Where’s your friend?” was the first thing Yoongi asked when he took his helmet
off. He frowned, looking around.
“He had to catch the last bus back to campus,” Jimin said as he got on the
scooter behind Yoongi. He pressed close, quickly dropping a kiss on the back of
Yoongi’s neck. It was late enough that no one was there to see. He felt warm
despite the chilly autumn air; his happiness was pushing everything away.
Jimin didn’t voice his thoughts until they were back home, wrapped in blankets
and each other, in the darkness of Yoongi’s loft.
He smiled as he pressed his cheek against the older man’s shoulder.
“Yoongi.”
“Jimin.”
“I had a lot of fun with Taehyung.”
“That’s good.”
“I really like him.”
Yoongi was quiet, and Jimin lifted his head, and poked Yoongi’s cheek. “Not
like that. Pabo.”
“Hey. Don’t call me pabo.”
“Why not? You call me pabo all the time,” Jimin whined. “No. I just mean, I
finally have a friend. It feels nice. I forgot what it was like to have
friends,” he ended on a whisper.
Yoongi shifted and pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head. “Well, it
sounds like Taehyung is going to be a good friend for you. I’m glad.”
Jimin fell asleep content that night.
 
Jimin's Korean started improving quickly from Taehyung's help. Whereas Jimin
didn't like speaking with Yoongi in Korean because it made him feel like a
child, he didn't have the same aversion to using it with Taehyung, who usually
preferred Korean. He'd get excited whenever Jimin said something correct, and
his enthusiasm was infectious. Yoongi almost never praised him for his
progress, just nodding and moving on to the next grammar point...and honestly
it sometimes squashed his motivation. It wasn't that he needed a reward; he
knew he needed to learn the language before getting thrown into the country
with the intention to stay long-term. That knowledge didn't make it any easier,
though.
Jimin spent more and more time with Taehyung. They didn't always have the same
shifts, and they often would hang out in the city if Taehyung wasn't in class
or working. 
One Saturday night, Taehyung invited Jimin to go bowling with a group of
friends from his university. Jimin was having a good time until one of the
girls started flirting with him. 
“Hi. I’m Angelina,” she said as she sat down near him while he was taking
advantage of the wait between turns to eat his food. “But you can call me
Angie.”
“I’m Jimin,” he responded politely, smiling at her briefly.
"So, which college do you go to?" She asked, leaning forward toward him so the
front of her shirt dipped and he had a clear view of her cleavage. Jimin kept
his eyes on the plate of fried chicken he was eating.
"I'm not in school right now. I'm taking some time off for personal reasons,"
he said vaguely.
"Oh, must be nice," she smiled, scooting closer by pretending to reach for her
soda on the table--which didn't in fact call for any extra effort to reach. “I
bet you have lots of free time, then.” Her bare knee touched his (why did he
have to wear his torn jeans?), and he quickly pulled his leg away. 
“Not really,” he avoided. “I work.”
She was quiet for a second, and he realized she was staring very hard at his
face, as if she was examining it. “What are you, Japanese?”
Jimin raised his eyebrows, patience growing thin. “I’m American,” he
deadpanned.
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “I mean are you Japanese-American, or I dunno,
Chinese-American?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. He glanced up at the TV scoreboard. “Oh. I’m next,”
he pointed out, and jumped up, glad to have an excuse to escape. He slid around
the table from the other side and left her sitting alone.
If he thought bowling would get the girl off of his back, he was seriously
wrong.
“Oh my god, you’re so good,Jimin!” she exclaimed, coming up beside him after
his strike, once everyone had finished congratulating him. She swept her long,
black hair up over one shoulder as she reached out to squeeze his bicep without
his permission. He frowned and shifted away.
“Wow, do you work out?”
“Yes. Can you stop fucking touching me, now? I’m taken,” he finally ground out.
He took a deep, calming breath and went to stand over by Taehyung and the other
guys. He didn’t check to see Angie’s reaction, but he heard the mutter before
he was out of earshot.
“What a dick.”
 
The evening that Jimin’s passport finally came—early, thanks to the money
Yoongi forked out for him—Jimin danced all over Yoongi’s apartment with the
soundboard app Taehyung had introduced to him and which Jimin had promptly
downloaded onto Yoongi’s tablet. Yoongi laughed, watching him pop and lock and
grind against various furniture, sticking his tongue out obnoxiously.
“We’re going to Koreaaaaa,” Jimin sang, spinning and sliding over to where
Yoongi was sitting on his workstation chair, feet up on the sofa armrest.
“YEEEAAH, BABY, we’re going to KO-RE-A!”
Jimin threw a leg over Yoongi’s legs and continued dancing as obnoxiously as
possible, lifting his shirt up a little and throwing his head back with the
music. He yelped when Yoongi suddenly brought a leg up to knee him in the
crotch.
“Hey!” he protested as he stumbled off of his legs, nearly falling onto the
sofa. “Why would you do that? Don’t you like lap dances?”
Yoongi dropped his feet to the floor and swung back to his computer. “That
wasn’t a lap dance,” he scoffed.
Jimin frowned, switched the beats to a more erotic tone, and set the tablet
down on the desk. Then he spun Yoongi’s chair back to face him, and climbed
onto his lap.
“You want a real lap dance?” Jimin asked, voice low. He threaded his fingers
through Yoongi’s hair, pulling him up slightly to kiss him quickly but wetly.
“I’ll give you a lap dance.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly. It wasn’t exactly the
reaction Jimin was going for, but he was sure it wouldn’t take much to change
it.
Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the music flow through him and
begin to move his limbs. Then he opened his eyes again and caught Yoongi’s
gaze. He didn’t let it go as he rubbed himself against the speechless musician,
running his hands up and down his own torso, nearly pulling his shirt off
before letting it drop, taking Yoongi’s hands and placing them on his hips as
he grinded down in wave-like motions. He could see that the older man was
breathing heavily, and he didn’t miss it when his tongue darted out to wet his
lips.
Finally Jimin couldn’t take it anymore, and stopped dancing abruptly. He dove
down and captured Yoongi’s lips, drawing a low groan from him.
Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the strange combination of happiness and
tension Jimin had been feeling lately. Whatever it was, soon their usual
kissing turned into something much more intense and heated. Jimin broke away
for a second, panting.
“Yoongi,” he pulled another kiss from him, “I want you. I want you so badly.”
Yoongi yanked him close, kissing him so hard that Jimin could barely tell where
his mouth ended and Yoongi’s began. But then he pushed Jimin away, and put a
hand on his chest to brace him, keeping him from getting closer. He took a few
deep breaths through his nose, closing his eyes momentarily. He reached over to
turn off the tablet. The abrupt silence sent an almost tangible wave through
the room. Jimin’s ears rang with the absence of sound.
“Jimin, I want to be honest with you; I’ve only had sex once.” He looked really
uncomfortable as he said this, looking away and scratching at his neck. “I was
just out of high school—you know, around the time I was having all those
problems—and it was with a girl. I really didn’t enjoy it very much. And
I’ve…never really felt comfortable enough to go farther than kissing and
touching with the few guys I’ve tried getting close with.”
Jimin nodded, realizing the gravity of the situation and forcing himself down
from his high. He pulled Yoongi’s hand away from his neck and laced their
fingers together, just gently holding his hand in his lap as he listened.
“I think, I’m not sure, but I think maybe with guys I was afraid to be the one
not in control, but because I was always hesitant to make the first move,
nothing ever happened. It’s more like I don’t like not knowing what was going
on. I don’t know if that even makes sense?”
“Yeah, I think I get it. You want to be the one to initiate things, but you
aren’t sure when you’re comfortable to do that.”
“I guess. I’ve never liked seeing guys who are all up in your face about being
in charge of things, though, so I guess I don’t exactly put that on display
most of the time.”
“I think you do, though. Not in that obnoxious way, of course, but,” Jimin
paused to figure out what he was trying to say, “you make me feel like I can
rely on you or feel safe with you. I think that’s a different way of being in
control. It’s not like you boss people around, or talk down to people. I think
it’s your maturity that feels so…strong? To me.” When Yoongi gave him an odd
look, he added, “That’s a compliment, I swear. I just don’t know how to explain
it properly.”
Yoongi laughed. “Yeah well anyway. I just wanted to warn you, in case you were
expecting anything amazing from me. You’re probably not going to get anything
amazing. But…I do feel like I could try with you.”
Jimin felt his heartbeat pick up slightly. He unconsciously licked his suddenly
dry lips. “You do?”
Yoongi met his eyes briefly, nodding. “Yeah. I know we should take things slow,
but I don’t feel any of that fear with you.”
If Jimin had been the kind of person he used to be, he might have teased Yoongi
about implying that Jimin seemed easy to control. But he wasn’t that person
anymore, and he realized everything Yoongi was telling him was what he wanted
to hear. Jimin wasn’t often in control, but even though he hated it for the
videos, he felt strange with the idea of actually being in control. He trusted
Yoongi beyond words, and the thought of him being the one to lead them honestly
made him feel hot all over. He tried to push the feeling away at the moment,
though.
“Can I kiss you right now?” he asked, and received a nod in return.
Yoongi drew him in, holding him close as they kissed slowly. Jimin pulled away
after a while, resting his head in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder.
“I just really like being close to you like this,” Jimin murmured. “I really
want to do more with you, though.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want to. As long as it’s you.”
 
Later that night, Yoongi stared down at Jimin, slowly tracing his fingertips up
and down his naked torso. Jimin tried to calm his breathing. He shouldn’t be
getting so excited about such innocent touches. It was embarrassing. But
Yoongi’s fingertips sent sparks of desire shooting through his body so strongly
that Jimin could barely contain himself. Yoongi’s hand settled itself on
Jimin’s hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles in the dip between his leg and his
hip, and then Yoongi dipped down to kiss him. Jimin moaned into his mouth,
sucking hungrily at his lips and tongue.
“I want you,” he said against his lips, barely pulling away enough for the
words to be intelligible. “Yoongi, please.”
There was a puff of air against his cheek as Yoongi snorted slightly. “I’ve
gotcha, don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “Be patient.”
Jimin heard a pop as the top came off of the bottle of lube, and he squeezed
his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation, or something else. He
didn’t realize he was fisting the bedsheets below him until he felt Yoongi’s
hand pry his fingers open and place his hands on his thighs.
“Jimin.”
“Hmm?”
“Promise me you’ll say something if I do something wrong.”
Jimin’s hands tightened on Yoongi’s legs.
“Jimin?”
“I will. I will. Don’t worry.”
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Jimin opened his eyes. “You won’t.”
 
Jimin gasped when Yoongi’s first finger finally dipped inside. He frantically
pulled Yoongi’s face back down to kiss him. His heart was beating too fast, and
he couldn’t tell if it was because he was scared, or if it was because he was
overwhelmed with emotion. The finger stilled for a moment, before it began to
push in more, carefully feeling around.
“Yoongi,” he breathed, eyes closing, lips still pressed against the other’s. A
soft whimper escaped him.
“It’s okay,” Yoongi murmured, carding the fingers of his left hand through his
hair.
“I know.” Jimin smiled against his mouth. “I know.”
Yoongi added a second finger, and Jimin’s breath stuttered. It was too much and
not enough, all at the same time. A high-pitched gasp broke out of his throat.
He threw his head back. Yoongi leaned forward to lick at his throat, slowly
kissing and sucking at the skin as he worked his way toward his shoulder.
“Ah…Yoongi.”
“Hmm?”
“M-more. Want more.”
“This?” A third finger entered him, and he cried out, clutching Yoongi’s
shoulders tightly.
“Y-yeah. That’s—ah.”
Yoongi was unimaginably gentle, but it was driving Jimin closer and closer to
the edge. He’d never felt like this before.
“O-okay, I’m ready,” he breathed.
Yoongi pulled his fingers out and tore open the condom wrapper before rolling
it on.
Jimin spread his legs wide as Yoongi lined himself up with his entrance. Just
before he began to push in, Yoongi touched Jimin’s chin gently with one finger.
“Jimin, look at me,” he murmured, and Jimin tore his wide eyes away from their
crotches to Yoongi’s face, where he saw the most loving expression he’d ever
seen in his life. His breath hitched, and then Yoongi slowly began to push in,
eyes never leaving his face.
It hurt, a little, but not overwhelmingly so. He couldn’t help the slight
grimace from flashing briefly across his features, and Yoongi paused, leaning
down to kiss him lightly on his forehead. Jimin’s chest was heaving.
“Okay?”
Jimin swallowed, and nodded, unable to speak. He let out a low moan as Yoongi
pushed the rest of the way in and stilled again. All of a sudden he felt…full.
Not just physically full, but it was as if all of the spider cracks in his
heart had closed, sealing off the holes and shielding him from every bad
emotion that tried to slice its way in.
“Do you…do you love me?” he whispered abruptly, tears leaking down his face.
Yoongi pulled back a little so they could see each other. He touched Jimin’s
brow, and carded his fingers through Jimin’s bangs again.
“I think I just might,” he smiled fondly.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Jimin pulled him down for a chaste kiss. “Good, ‘cause I,” he swallowed, “I
love you so, so much, and I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t—”
“Shh, shh,” Yoongi soothed him, and he realized fresh tears were streaming down
his face. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m here.” He pressed their lips
together, licking deep into his mouth, and Jimin responded fervently.
Yoongi began to move, then, and Jimin dropped his head back to let the
sensations take over him. The older man thrust into him slowly, so slowly that
Jimin almost couldn’t bear it. His brain was going into overdrive, and he
realized he needed to ground himself against Yoongi’s lips again. But he
couldn’t get his eyes to focus, rolling back from every deep push.
“Yoongi,” he groaned around a thrust, “K-kiss—ah—kiss me, please.”
Yoongi’s mouth was on him in record-timing, and he whimpered into it, grasping
both sides of his face before his hands shakily made their way down his neck,
then shoulders, then arms.  
Jimin broke the kiss but didn’t pull away, open mouth pressed against Yoongi’s,
panting as he took in every sensation of Yoongi moving inside him. He gripped
the older man’s biceps tightly, probably painfully, but he couldn’t loosen his
grip. A high gasp traveled from his mouth into Yoongi’s, muffled but ringing
loudly in both of their ears. Jimin tried to continue kissing Yoongi, but his
lips kept missing, just barely brushing against each other until Yoongi took
initiative and pushed him down, covering his entire mouth with his own.
When Yoongi actually stopped moving inside him to concentrate on kissing him
deeply, Jimin thought he was going to die. He moved his hands from Yoongi’s
elbows to the back of his neck to hold him close, pulling his tongue deeper and
curling his own around it as he rolled his hips up hard, picking up the pace.
Yoongi groaned so loudly into Jimin’s mouth that he could have sworn the
vibrations traveled down his throat.
Yoongi shifted, just slightly, and Jimin’s eyes shot open as he cried out. “Oh
fuck!” he reached down to touch himself. He was dripping pre-cum all over his
stomach. Yoongi was still being too slow, though.
“Harder, Yoongi, please.” He wiped some of his pre-cum on Yoongi’s chest, and
then lapped at one of his nipples.
Yoongi let out a low groan and pulled Jimin’s legs up a little, trying to brace
himself before pulling nearly all the way out and then ramming straight in. Oh.
That was more like it. Jimin didn’t realize he’d let go of Yoongi and was
simply lying back, weakly clutching the pillow behind him as high-pitched
whines burst from him around each of Yoongi’s thrusts.
Soon enough, he could feel himself tensing, and with a soft cry, he came hard,
between them. Yoongi slowed down his thrusts to help him through his orgasm,
but all of a sudden it was too much.
“Stop, stop, stop, Yoongi, please stop,” Jimin pleaded frantically, grabbing
onto his shoulders. The fear had taken a hold of him with no warning, and his
hands began shaking. Yoongi immediately pulled out completely despite not yet
coming, still as hard as ever, and drew Jimin to his chest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Jimin shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not your fault. I just,” he broke off.
He didn’t want to ruin this moment by talking about that. About the constant
abuse of his oversensitivity. He usually liked the feeling to a point, but
right now….
“It’s okay. It’ll take time, and we’ve got all the time in the world.” God, why
was Yoongi such an angel? Jimin hadn’t done anything to deserve such a person.
Abruptly the older man grunted, as if in pain, and Jimin startled. Yoongi’s
dick had bumped into his own, and clearly it had affected the still very much
aroused man above him. Jimin felt guilty. He knew there was no way he could
take Yoongi in again so soon. But what if—
“Yoongi,” he said quietly, “take off the condom.”
“What? No.” he looked upset. “Jimin—”
“Please. I want to do something.”
“What are you going to do?” his voice was uneasy.
“I want to make you feel good,” was all Jimin said, as he sat up with a slight
grimace, pushing Yoongi to lie down. He reached for the edge of the condom, but
paused, mere inches away. He looked up. “Can I take it off?”
“Tell me what you’re going to do, first.”
“I’m going to blow you.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, and his head fell back on the pillow, bumping into the
wall with a small thud as he groaned. “Oh my god,” he breathed, voice cracking
slightly. Jimin couldn’t help the smirk from rising to his lips. It was obvious
how affected Yoongi was by his words.
“Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked, shifting to get more comfortable between the other
man’s thighs.
Yoongi lifted his head a little to meet his gaze, and Jimin didn’t miss the way
his eyes darted down to Jimin’s mouth, so he purposely wet his lips with his
tongue. He thought he saw Yoongi’s pupils dilate. They moved back up to his
eyes.
“O-okay.”
Jimin smiled. This was going to be fun. He rolled the condom back off of
Yoongi’s dick, careful to not touch him too much and accidentally trigger
something.
“Where should I—?” He held up the condom.
“Just, over to the side by the tissues. We can deal with it later.” Yoongi was
breathing heavily, but clearly trying to control it as Jimin placed the condom
inside a tissue so it didn’t leave a wet mark on the loft flooring.
Jimin turned back to the dick in front of him. He took a deep, calming breath,
closing his eyes momentarily as he swallowed, lips pressed tightly closed.
“You don’t have to do this.” Yoongi must have been watching him. Jimin opened
his eyes, but didn’t look up.
“Hush,” was all he said, before he leaned down and took just the end in his
mouth. Yoongi let out a low, guttural moan, and Jimin flicked his eyes up
briefly to look through his bangs at how he’d pressed his hands to his face.
Jimin smiled around the tip and then moved lower, taking as much as he could
into his mouth.
Yoongi let out a “Hhah,” sound, weaving his fingers into Jimin’s hair, gently
caressing his skull. It was an odd combination. Usually Jimin’s partners in the
past had only held onto his hair to hold him still as they fucked into his
throat. This was calming, and he hummed around the dick in his mouth. A tremor
ran through Yoongi’s body.
“God, Jimin.”
It didn’t take long before Jimin felt Yoongi pulling urgently at his hair,
trying to move him away. “Jimin, I’m gonna—” But Jimin locked his hands against
Yoongi’s hips and pushed deeper, opening his throat before swallowing around
him. He could feel Yoongi trembling, just on the edge, before he crashed over,
spilling down Jimin’s throat. Jimin carefully slipped away as the release
slowed, continuing to suck and roll his tongue around the underside of his
cock. When he was sure that there was no more left, he eased off completely,
licking his lips and swallowing a few times.
Yoongi was breathing heavily. He looked down at him, worry in his eyes. “I’m
sorry, you shouldn’t have had to—”
“I wanted to,” Jimin cut him off, crawling up to kiss him on the mouth again.
He chuckled at the involuntary grimace Yoongi made at the taste of himself on
Jimin’s tongue. Yoongi groaned loudly, in a very much unsexual way, and dropped
his head back on the pillow. He drew Jimin in close, threading his fingers
through his hair as his breathing returned to normal.
“No one’s ever offered to do that before,” he confessed several minutes later.
“Did you like it?” Jimin asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Mmhm.”
“Good. You deserve that, and so much more,” Jimin sighed as he slid down
slightly to nuzzle against his chest. He slid his hand smoothly up and down
Yoongi’s chest, not really in a sensual way, but almost in a soothing way. His
eyes fell on the nipple a few centimeters away from his face, and without
thinking, he shifted so he was directly on top of it, lips encircling it
completely. Yoongi released a heavy sigh as Jimin began gently suckling the
small nub. He felt Yoongi quaking, and he pulled away a little, only to realize
it was silent laughter.
“What?” Jimin demanded, feeling offended for some reason. Yoongi’s grin
widened.
“Oh, it’s just,” he turned his head slightly, and reached out to trace his
thumb over Jimin’s lips. “I was just thinking about how obsessed I’m already
starting to get with your lips.”
Jimin smirked, then, and followed the thumb before it could get too far,
capturing it between said lips and biting it lightly as he swirled his tongue
around it, sucking the whole thing into his mouth. Yoongi groaned and clamped
onto Jimin’s cheek with the captured hand, pulling him up to replace the thumb
with his mouth and tongue.
They kissed slowly for a while, until Jimin felt a familiar warmth begin to
pool in his gut again. He intensified the kiss and reached out to stroke
Yoongi’s dick. He, too, was starting to harden. Jimin climbed on top of him,
never disconnecting their mouths, and rubbed himself against Yoongi’s thigh as
he squeezed and tugged the other man back to full hardness. Then he kissed away
from the other’s mouth, moving toward his ear.
“I wanna try again,” he stage-whispered directly into his ear before latching
onto his neck and sucking hard.
“Again?”
“Mm.”
“Are you…ready to go again?”
Jimin knew what he was really asking.
“Yes. I think so. I want to.”
“All right. But we’re stopping if—”
“I know. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jimin knew it was probably a mistake to
block it out, but he didn’t care. He wanted Yoongi so badly, he didn’t care. He
reached for the lube, straddling the older man. Just as he was uncapping the
bottle, Yoongi grabbed his hand.
“Wait, Jimin.”
“What?”
“Condom.”
Jimin sighed. “Do we have to? I wanna feel you.”
“Yes, we have to,” Yoongi argued, irritated disbelief creeping into his voice.
“Don’t you know anything about unprotected sex?”
“I know plenty about it.”
“And?”
“And what? Are we seriously having this conversation right now?”
Yoongi sat up on his elbows. “Yes, we are having this conversation right now.”
Jimin hated how patronizing he sounded. “You know it only takes one time to
infected, right.”
“Yeah, and I’ve gotten tested more times than I care to think about, thanks.
I’m fine.”
“Not since the hotel guy, though, right?”
Jimin choked, falling back. “No, but—”
Yoongi twisted, leaning over and grabbing the box of condoms. “I’m sorry, but
it’s with a condom or nothing happens.”
Jimin could feel his eyes watering. “You think I’m dirty,” he accused, hating
how choked up and weak his voice sounded.
Yoongi dropped the box and pulled Jimin into his arms. “No, that’s not—ugh,
Jimin. I’m sorry. I just want us to be safe.”
“Youwant to be safe. I’m already not safe,” Jimin corrected him.
“That’s not what I mean. Please.”
They held each other for a while before Yoongi began kissing and touching him
again. Jimin pulled away to silently put the condom on him. He slathered lube
around the outside of the condom and inside himself, mouth open as he breathed
heavily. Yoongi groaned as he watched Jimin thoroughly coating his hole with
the liquid.
Things got messy and rough after that. With all of the extra lube Jimin had
used, the sound of their thrusting was amplified and wet. Jimin tried riding
Yoongi at first, before he quickly realized the low ceiling didn’t exactly
encourage such activities. Yoongi flipped him over and wasted no time in
pounding into Jimin, forcing out even louder moans from him each time.
This time Jimin didn’t panic, and enjoyed the afterglow, clamping his hands on
Yoongi’s hips to hold him still.
“Stay,” he breathed as Yoongi began to pull out.
“I am, don’t worry,” he was reassured, but he shook his head and held on
tighter, snaking one arm around Yoongi’s waist.
“No. Stay inside. I want you to stay inside me.” He was still floating in
euphoria, eyes closed.
“That’s not a good idea, Jimin.” He felt Yoongi try to pull away again, and he
whimpered, bucking against the rapper even though he was already
overstimulated. Maybe he had gone crazy. Suddenly all he wanted was to be
wrecked by Yoongi. He never wanted to let go.
But Yoongi clearly wasn’t up for that.
“Jimin,” he said sternly, finally winning over with his strength, and pulled
out. It ripped a loud cry from Jimin, and several strong aftershocks coursed
through his body. He barely registered the feel of wet tissues on his stomach
and limp dick before Yoongi was lying down beside him, condom-free and drawing
him into his arms. Jimin hummed and buried his face in the crook of Yoongi’s
neck.
Yoongi reached over to pick up his phone. He made a disbelieving sound in the
back of his throat.
Jimin pushed himself up slightly, worried. “What is it?”
Yoongi tossed his phone to the side, snorting. “What time do you think it is?”
Jimin frowned. “I don’t know, two?”
Yoongi pressed both hands to his eye sockets, shaking his head and starting to
laugh slightly. “Try four.”
“Oh my god,” Jimin felt himself heat up in embarrassment. Was he actually that
perverted that he had kept them busy for thatlong? “I’m sorry,” he half
laughed, half whimpered.
“Don’t apologize, geez. But I think we need to get some actual sleep now.”
Jimin hummed and scooted closer until he was pressed up against Yoongi. “Okay.”
“Thank god I don’t have to work at the coffee shop tomorrow morning.”
 
The next morning, they kissed in the kitchen for a very long time, not even
touching other than Yoongi’s hands on Jimin’s waist, Jimin’s arms around his
neck. It was quiet, only the sounds of their breathing, the sticky slide of
their tongues, the suction of their mouths, and the occasional knock of teeth.
Although Jimin was pretty good at avoiding that. Eventually Yoongi pulled away,
a string of saliva connecting their flushed lips. Jimin snickered and followed
the string back to his mouth, sucking it up and stealing another quick peck
before he pulled back as well.
“God. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear. I’m not going to get
anything done, now.” Yoongi purposely turned his back and pretended to ignore
him as he poured his coffee and then padded over to his workstation.
Chapter End Notes
     Holy shit I think that’s the longest sex scene I’ve EVER written.
     Usually it’s just BANG BANG BANG and then over, hahahaha. (Who else
     read that to the tune of Big Bang’s song? Because I did.) But oh man
     I admit I’m so proud of that scene. So much emotion. You can really
     tell the difference between their sexual experience in this, too.
     Btw while I was writing, my music playlist switched to a very nerve-
     racking song right when Jimin got overwhelmed. TBH I don’t know if
     that was the cause of the sudden shift in the scene, or if I was
     already going to write that, but either way I think it was a luckily
     happenstance.
     I was also writing the second part of this during our typhoon two
     weeks ago, and kept getting DISTRACTED by alerts coming up on my
     phone that I could barely read because they were in Japanese, and
     sirens outside with loudspeakers announcing evacuations and “get to
     high ground/stay above the second floor of your house” going on
     throughout the night. And it just killed the flow and suddenly Jimin
     and Yoongi got into an argument I WASN’T INTENDING THEM TO HAVE.
     *deep breaths*
     Anyway...thanks for reading! I look forward to your comments! I hope
     I didn't do an awful job. :P
***** Chapter XI *****
Chapter Notes
     Wow, there’s a lot of emotional stuff coming your way. (In this
     chapter, and next.) Prepare yourselves. I realized I get bored with
     fluff, so don’t expect too much of that. Not the longest chapter,
     especially after the last one, lol. But hopefully you don't think
     it's too short. I struggled so much with writing it! ;_;
     Side note: I've decided to use /slashes/ to differentiate spoken
     Korean from spoken English. So if you see a sentence within
     quotations with slashes, the person is speaking in Korean. Now that
     Jimin understands more, I feel like it's okay to just write it that
     way so it's less confusing for the rest of us.
     Also, Happy Birthday to our beloved Park Jimin! I feel so proud of
     him lately! I also LOVE how happy he seems, too. So smiley and giggly
     and acting cutesy, hehehe.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XI.
 
Jimin felt like he was in bliss for a few days, unable to stop smiling at
Yoongi, snuggling up close to him whenever possible, touching him whenever he
could. But soon he realized that breaking his short fast from two years of near
constant intense sex had done something to his hormones that he wasn’t prepared
for.
He couldn’t stop craving Yoongi.
At first, he didn’t really notice the difference. But then it became obvious
when Yoongi’s reactions weren’t as positive as he’d expect. Jimin started
getting horny all the time, triggered by the smallest of things, and Yoongi
wasn’t having any of it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He did have some of
it. One of the best ways to start his day was with Yoongi’s long fingers
wrapped tightly around his cock in the shower, Jimin groaning and leaning back
against his chest as the hot water cascaded over them.
But it wasn’t nearly as much as Jimin needed. Jimin was like an addict who had
quit after too many fucked up years, only to fall back into the unforgiving
black hole of a relapse.  
 
He and Yoongi had just returned from applying for Jimin's visa, and Yoongi
settled back down at his workstation after he'd put the leftovers from their
lunch into the fridge. 
Jimin came up behind Yoongi while he was sitting at his computer, headphones on
and monitors filled with open music editing programs. He checked briefly to
make sure he wasn’t interrupting something really important before he leaned
down to wrap his arms around the producer’s neck. He hummed and nuzzled the
space below one of his ears, kissing and sucking lightly at the skin. Yoongi
reached back with one hand to briefly thread this fingers into Jimin’s hair,
petting him softly.
"Hi," he said simply.
"Hi." Jimin sighed happily and pressed his cheek against his shoulder, just
watching Yoongi’s fingers fly over the keyboard. He wished those fingers were
doing something else. Abruptly his breathing staggered, but he didn’t think
Yoongi noticed. He had his headphones on.
Jimin moved to Yoongi’s side, crouching by his lap. He leaned his folded arms
on one of his legs, and Yoongi chuckled, tapping him playfully on the head
twice before going back to his work. Jimin stared at the crotch just inches
from his face for a few minutes, feeling his throat go wet with want, before
slowly reaching forward and unbuttoning his jeans. He wasn’t thinking. He was
in the process of unzipping them when Yoongi gasped.
“Holyfuck, what are you doing?” Yoongi rolled his chair back so quickly that
Jimin nearly fell forward onto the floor. He just barely caught himself in
time.
Jimin felt himself go slightly pink. “I—”
“Jimin, I’m working.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Don’t be indecent.” Ouch. Jimin flinched.
“I just thought, I thought you would like it.”
“Not while I’m trying to get work done! There’s a time for those things. Now is
not the time.”
Jimin pouted, sitting back on the floor.
“Don’t make that face at me.”
“What face?” He stuck his lips out more and lowered his chin, looking up at
Yoongi through his bangs.
“I said no.”
Jimin scowled, and got to his feet. “Fine. See if you get any later.” He didn’t
like the way Yoongi snorted, totally unaffected, as he rolled his chair back to
the desk.
“I think I can deal.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe you’ll just have to watch me have fun all by myself.” Suddenly
Jimin got a spiteful idea. “In fact, why don’t I—” he dropped down onto the
sofa, “—just—make myself feel better over here?” Yoongi’s eyebrows went up.
“Oh, don’t you worry. Go back to work. I’ll just enjoy myself here.”
To his surprise, Yoongi started to turn back to his computer, although his head
was still slightly turned toward him, as if to check whether Jimin was actually
going to follow through with his words. His mouth was open a little as Jimin
loosened his pants and slipped his hand into his boxers. Then, to Jimin’s
shock, Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, he snapped his mouth shut, and turned away. He
even reached to put his headphones back on.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said warningly. He wasn’t even looking at him. “I’m serious.
Why are you doing this?”
Jimin squeezed himself tightly, twisting his wrist sharply. His hand was dry,
so there was more pain than pleasure, but he choked out a moan all the same. He
ignored Yoongi’s insensitive words. He jerked his hand frantically. He wasn’t
going for slow. Clearly Yoongi was repelled by his ‘indecency.’ But Jimin
needed this. He needed to feel real. He needed to stop floating. He’d been too
happy lately; he knew it couldn’t last. He didn’t deserve to stay happy like
that.
His hand burned. His dick had a strange combination of pleasure-driven heat and
itching from the painful friction. His moans were staggered with the force of
not breathing behind each burst of sound that was choked off as he tried to
pull the air back in.
He heard the clatter of headphones on the desk.
“Oh my god. Jimin, stop. Stop it, you’re hurting yourself.” There were strong
hands on his arms, yanking them away to his sides, pushing him back on the
sofa. “What’s wrong? Jimin.”
But he couldn’t answer that. He turned his head to the side, smothering himself
against the back of the sofa.
Yoongi climbed onto the sofa, essentially straddling him, but suddenly sex was
far from Jimin’s mind. He wasn’t even hard anymore. He let Yoongi lie down over
him, encasing him in an awkward, cage-like brace.
“Jimin. Jimin-ah. Please. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Jimin couldn’t look at him. “I disgust you. I know. I know.” He wasn’t crying;
his eyes were dry, but his throat was obstructed as if he was.
                                                        
Yoongi let go of his arms to take both sides of his face in his hands and force
Jimin to face him.
“That couldn’t be farther from the truth. You know that.”
Yoongi’s lips were on his a moment later. It was a closed-mouth kiss, and only
lasted a few seconds, but Jimin felt calm wash over him.
“You don’t disgust me,” Yoongi said again. “But I can’t do this, Jimin.”
Jimin felt his stomach tighten.
Yoongi visibly swallowed, and sighed as he ran a hand through Jimin’s hair,
never breaking eye contact. Jimin tried to look away, but Yoongi didn’t let
him.
“I’m not used to so much physical contact. I don’t…I don’t crave it as much as
most people, I think. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being that way with you.
Because I do, and I don’t regret that at all. But Jimin. I can’t just…do those
kinds of things all the time. If I’m working, I need to work. This isn’t a
movie, you know?”
“I know,” Jimin responded, voice small.
“Yeah. I know it may seem like a great idea—who wouldn’t want to get blown
while they’re sitting at their desk, in the middle of their work day?”
Jimin unconsciously wet his lips, throat suddenly dry. He felt hot. But this
time it was with embarrassment.
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but I’m just not like that. Okay? It doesn’t mean I
don’t think you’re attractive.” He grimaced, closing his eyes momentarily
before opening them again and looking down at Jimin. “Because my god, you are
seriously the most dangerously beautiful person I’ve ever known.” He stroked
the side of Jimin’s neck just below his jaw with the tips of his fingers. His
eyes were soft as he leaned down to kiss Jimin again, this time pushing his
mouth open to carefully claim it. He pulled away. “So I really need you to
understand that it’s not because of any of that stuff you were thinking. I just
have to be ready for you, okay?”
Jimin licked his lips, not sensually, but just gathering their mixed saliva and
pulling it back into his mouth.
“What should I do?” Jimin found himself asking quietly. “I don’t know what to
do. I want to make you happy, and I want to feel good. How am I supposed to do
that?”
Yoongi frowned. “I am happy. You don’t need to do anything extra to make me
happy.”
“But,” Jimin didn’t understand. He pushed himself up on his elbows, which
forced Yoongi to sit up to give him room. He slid to the side so that he wasn’t
straddling Jimin anymore, although one of his legs was still thrown over both
of Jimin’s.
“But what?” Yoongi prompted him, when Jimin didn’t continue, just staring at
him with furrowed brows.
“But don’t you want anything from me?”
Yoongi opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He was obviously considering
his answer before speaking. Jimin waited, tense.
“That’s a loaded question,” the musician began, finally. It wasn’t accusatory;
just pointing out the truth. “Of course I…want to be close with you. But I
really wish I could erase the part of you that thinks people only want you for
your body.”
 
Things got a little better after that, although Jimin felt more awkward about
initiating intimacy with Yoongi. He made sure to never touch him while the
producer was working, until finally one evening as he was finishing up, Yoongi
seemed to get annoyed by his obvious avoidance and pulled him over to hold on
his lap.
“Is it that hard to not molest me while I’m working?” he joked.
Jimin frowned and rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, it is,” he
deadpanned.
Yoongi sighed. He slipped his hand underneath Jimin’s shirt, gently rubbing his
palm up and down his side, thumb caressing just the edge of his abs and ribs.
Jimin took a shuddering breath and flicked his tongue out as he turned slightly
to suck on Yoongi’s collarbone.
“Wow, even just that gets you going?” He sounded like he was in disbelief.
Jimin hummed acknowledgement, letting out a little whine as he pushed closer.
“Only because it’s you, though.”
Yoongi pulled him up, away from his neck—Jimin knew he didn’t like marks
visible—and instead connected their mouths. Jimin groaned into the kiss,
pulling Yoongi’s tongue into his mouth, welcoming it as it pressed and curved
around his own tongue. The rapper was the best kisser Jimin had ever known,
which honestly was saying a lot. Jimin felt heat building up in his groin, and
he whimpered into Yoongi’s mouth as he fumbled a bit to blindly find Yoongi’s
hand and push it against his crotch.
Yoongi wrapped an arm around his back and stood up without disconnecting their
mouths, and backed Jimin up until they stumbled over to the sofa. They toppled
down onto it, Jimin crying out slightly when Yoongi’s knee accidentally pressed
into his crotch too hard. When Yoongi finally slipped his hand into Jimin’s
pants to take a hold of his dick, he thought he was going to come right then
and there, but luckily he didn’t.
In the end, as Jimin lay there coming down from his high and Yoongi went to get
a washcloth, he realized Yoongi hadn’t even taken his clothes off, choosing to
focus all of his attention on Jimin instead. He just couldn’t understand, he
thought as Yoongi came back. The older man seemed perfectly happy, though,
smiling down at him and touching his cheek lightly before gently cleaning up
the mess he’d made.
 
Jimin was on his way to work barely a week later when he saw him. It was
Stephen, one of the other directors he and Chris had worked with on several
occasions. Most of the videos Jimin had done with Stephen’s men had involved
threesomes in which Jimin wasn’t allowed to do anything but let them have their
way with him. One partner was usually gentle with him, the other was rough to
the point of bruising and occasional black outs when he choked Jimin for too
long. Jimin still remembered how he’d had dark marks on his wrists for days
from having his hands held together behind his back in a vice grip the entire
time he was fucked, bent uncomfortably forward so that his face was forced into
the second man’s lap to choke on his cock as he sat in a lounge chair.
Stephen spotted him before he could hide his face, and a moment later he had
come up beside Jimin. He had the deceivingly innocuous appearance of a
respectable, working class man. Jimin knew his ‘real’ job was a mechanic
somewhere in the city, although where, he wasn’t sure. He wondered now if it
was nearby.
"Hey there, Jimmy. Haven't seen you in a while. Almost didn't recognize you
with those clothes and that hair. But I wouldn't forget those lips."
Jimin frowned, and adjusted his posture so it was straighter. He gripped his
shoulder bag tighter. He just happened to be wearing Yoongi's clothes that day,
and he knew they gave him a more masculine appearance. Baggy sweatpants tucked
into his Timberlands, a dark hoodie, and his favorite red beanie to steal from
Yoongi.
"What do you want, Stephen?" he demanded.
"I heard you disappeared a while ago. Christopher wasn’t too happy when he told
me about you running off."
"Yeah I don't do that anymore," Jimin tried to say nonchalantly, but it came
out a little shakier than he intended. The casual mention of Chris had his
blood running cold. Stephen noticed, and his eyes narrowed. 
"You sure about that? If you wanted to join up with me, I could make it worth
your while. We’d pay you double what you were making before. You were one of
our most popular collaborations. Viewers keep asking for you. So pliant, so
vocal. So perfect."
He reached out and grabbed Jimin’s chin, his large, calloused fingers pressing
hard into his cheeks to push out his puffy lips. Jimin’s eyes widened as he
froze. He felt paralyzed, a loud buzzing in his ears. A barely audible whimper
made its way out of his mouth, and Stephen smirked. “That’s what I’m talking
about, baby.” He rubbed Jimin’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “You
should come home with me, Jimmy. We could put those lips to good use.”
Stephen released his chin to reach for Jimin's shoulder, but a surge of
adrenaline coursed through him, and Jimin ducked away from the hand before
bolting. He ran with no regard to where he was going, just putting as much
distance between himself and Stephen as possible. He didn't check to see if he
was being followed, afraid to look back.
After several minutes he was forced to slow down, and he realized he had no
idea where he was. He didn’t notice his phone buzzing in his bag. He was out of
breath, gasping as if he was asthmatic, trying to get his bearings. But
everything was tilting and spinning. He swallowed a mouthful of air, forcing
himself to breath. He couldn’t do this right now. He had to get a hold of
himself.
“Hey, are you okay, kid?”
He jolted, tearing himself away from the concerned stranger with a gasp, and
stumbled around the corner, crossing the street to get away. He wandered for a
while until eventually the buildings began to look more familiar and he was
back in Koreatown. When he saw the neon sign of the convenience store where he
worked, all of his adrenaline rushed out of him, and he sank to his haunches
against the wall of the building across the street. He wrapped his arms around
his knees and tried to breathe. He almost didn’t notice the tinkle of the bell
as the store door opened, or the hurried footsteps rushing across the street to
him.
“/Jimin-ah! What happened! Are you okay?/” It was Taehyung, speaking quickly in
Korean. A sob broke from Jimin’s lips. He flinched away when an arm was placed
over his shoulder, but then he let it pull him to his feet.
Jimin was shaking, stumbling as he was led across to the store and into the
break room. He vaguely registered Taehyung telling their supervisor where they
were going. He was pushed down onto the small sofa beside the microwave.
“Jimin, what happened?” he asked again, this time in English, but Jimin
couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t form the words to make up a lie, either.
“Y-Yoongi. I want Yoongi,” he choked, another round of quaking coursing through
his body. His vision whitened as he gasped for air, and he found himself
leaning to the side before Taehyung pulled him upright and used a nearby paper
plate to fan his face.
“Breathe, Jiminie, breathe. Do you have your phone?”
“Ba-bag,” he managed. He felt Taehyung rummaging around until he pulled the
phone out. There was a sound of disbelief.
“/Do you seriously only have three numbers in this?/” he said in Korean. Jimin
knew exactly which numbers were there: ‘Min Yoongi,’ ‘Kim Taehyung,’ and
‘Work.’
“Yoongi,” Jimin whispered again. “I need Yoongi.”
He heard the far away sound of ringing for several seconds, and then it cut
off. He could just barely hear Yoongi’s voice coming through the earpiece.
"Jimin? I thought you were at work?"
"Min Yoongi-ssi?"
"Yes, who is this?" His voice changed abruptly, sounding far more professional
and adult-like.
"I'm Kim Taehyung, Jimin…same work. Yoongi-ssi, Jimin's in a bad way. I don't
know…panic attack? Or…something? He late to work and freaking out…something."
"/Where is he? Can I talk to him?/" Yoongi switched to Korean.
"/He's right here, hold on./" He held the phone up to Jimin's ear. 
"Jimin? It's Yoongi. What happened?"
"Yoongi." Jimin struggled to speak.
"Jimin, are you okay? What happened?"
"I, they found me. They found me."
"Who's 'they'? Who found you?"
Jimin choked on a sob and nearly dropped the phone. "I need you. Please come?"
"Okay, okay, I'm on my way. You're at work?"
"Y-yeah."
"Give me fifteen minutes. Stay with Taehyung. Can you put him back on the
phone?"
Jimin handed the phone back to his coworker.
"Yes?"
"/Taehyung-ssi, I'm coming to pick him up. I should be there in fifteen
minutes. Can you watch him until then?/"
"/Of course./"
The second Yoongi walked into the break room of the store, Jimin buried himself
in Yoongi's arms. He'd calmed down some since the phone call, but he was still
shaking a little. Taehyung returned to the storefront to give them privacy.
"I'm scared. I'll never escape them here."
"Did they do anything to you?" Yoongi pulled back and tried to look at his
body. Jimin shook his head. 
"I ran."
 “Did they follow you?”
“I don’t know."
“Who was it? Chris?”
Jimin shook his head. “Another director. We used to work with him a lot. He
wanted me to join his team. Said he’d pay me double what I got before. Guess he
didn’t know Chris kept all the money for himself.”
Yoongi went out with him to apologize to Jimin's manager and explain that he
wasn't feeling well enough to work today. Mr. Lee wasn't happy, but at least he
was understanding. 
“I already called Sunhee in to cover the rest of your shift,” he said. “You’ll
have to discuss with her about which one of hers you’ll take in return, okay?”
“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Lee.”
“You go home and get your rest, kid. You had us worried.”
Jimin nodded and turned his face away, feeling his eyes prickle. He let Yoongi
lead him outside.
Once they were home, Jimin settled down on the sofa, knees drawn up to his
chest. Yoongi brought the comforter down from the loft to wrap around him.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, clearly unsure if Jimin wanted physical
comfort or if he wanted to be left alone.
“Can you just sit with me for a little bit? I promise I won’t keep you from
work for too long.”
“It’s fine, I don’t care about that right now. You’re more important.” He sat
down on the sofa, and Jimin lay down so that his cheek rested on his thigh,
facing out from the sofa. Yoongi tugged the comforter higher up on Jimin’s
shoulders, tucking it around his ears, and then proceeded to run his fingers
soothingly through Jimin’s hair.
Jimin closed his eyes and let himself blank everything out.
“I’ll be here,” Yoongi murmured. “Go ahead and let yourself relax.”
Jimin shifted slightly, bringing his right hand up to rest backwards over
Yoongi’s leg. His fingers twitched, reaching but not quite. A moment later
Yoongi’s warm fingers had slipped through his, squeezing lightly and then just
holding him securely. Jimin didn’t realize he was so drained; before he knew
it, he was drifting to sleep, safely against Yoongi’s side.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry for posting a sad chapter on such a happy day, but it had
     to be done. ;_;
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! I love you all so much!
     ...now I'll just sit back and wait for the Bangtan family to tweet
     birthday wishes to their beloved Jimin. So far it's only Hobi, but
     the night is young, and they're probably enjoying themselves in
     person anyway. (And that's what matters, really. <3)
***** Chapter XII *****
Chapter Notes
     Again, a little longer wait than intended, but...I ended up drawing a
     little something for this story. I hope you like it. ^^
     *Edit* Photobucket is being a pain (sorry about that), and broke the
     link, so I created a tumblr account just for the purpose of sharing
     it. I THINK it's working now, but please let me know if the link
     breaks again!
See the end of the chapter for more notes

 
XII.
 
Jimin woke up to the smell of grilling meat. He sat up, feeling refreshed but
disoriented, and saw Yoongi moving around the kitchen. It’d gotten dark
outside. After a glance at the clock on Yoongi’s workstation, he was surprised
to see he’d slept for close to four hours. He stretched, cracking his neck and
shoulders, and then got to his feet. Yoongi hadn’t noticed him yet over the
loud hissing and crackling of the food on the stove. Jimin shuffled over to
him, letting out a sleepy grumble as he wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist
and perched his chin over his shoulder to see what he was cooking for dinner.
The older man tensed in surprise for barely a split second before he shifted
his head just enough to bump gently against Jimin’s in greeting.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Feeling better?”
“Mmm,” Jimin hummed affirmatively through his nose. “Whatcha making? Smells
good.”
“Just some stir fry. Wasn’t sure what else to make, and I needed to clean out
the fridge.”
“Leftovers à la Yoongi.”
“Exactly. There’s rice in the rice cooker, too. Oh, by the way. Look over
there,” Yoongi added suddenly, gesturing with the spatula toward the counter.
“Huh?” Jimin turned to look at the various things scattered on the counter, one
of which included his cell phone, and he picked it up when he noticed it
blinking.
He had a text from Taehyung.
'r u ok??? I’m worried.'
He smiled softly and quickly sent a reply.
‘I’m fine. thx for worrying.’
“Not your phone,” Yoongi snorted, having glanced over his shoulder. “The
passport.”
Jimin frowned and set his phone down, reaching for the small blue book. “Is
this yours?”
“Open it.”
He did. It was Yoongi’s. He momentarily got distracted, reading the first page,
and smiling at the very young-looking Min Yoongi. The picture had been taken
when he was only eighteen. He looked completely different. He had round cheeks
and ridiculous spiky black hair, but his dark eyes, cute nose, and almost-smirk
were still the same.
“You’re adorable,” he commented, smirking.
“Turn the page,” Yoongi said, exasperated.
“Okay, okay,” Jimin giggled slightly. He flipped past various landing
permission stamps from past travels, until he reached the page he was sure was
the one Yoongi intended him to see. There was a shiny new sticker on the page,
with a recent photo—although his hair was still brown in it—and information
declaring that he was now legally able to work in South Korea for the listed
amount of time.
“My CCIV arrived the other day, and I stopped by the Embassy to drop everything
off while you were at work. I went back today to pick it up.” He switched off
the stove and brought the pan of stir-fried meat and vegetables over to the
counter, shoving some things aside before he grabbed bowls and utensils for
them.
“That’s just the temporary visa; I’ll have to go to the immigration office once
we’re in Korea, to get my real visa.”
Jimin took the bowls and went over to the rice cooker to dish out healthy
portions for the both of them.
“Thanks.” Yoongi took his bowl and began scooping vegetables and meat onto his
rice. He waited for Jimin to sit down before continuing. “We need to start
packing and going through things.”
That was when Jimin noticed the big bundle of flattened cardboard boxes lying
against the wall behind the sofa. There were two boxes over by the TV, already
partially packed with books and picture frames. Jimin felt a strange chill go
through him at the sight, and he didn’t understand what it meant.
“I’ll probably sell and toss a bunch of shit, but the company is paying for the
move; shipping costs, plane ticket, and all. My equipment is coming with us, of
course. But it’s literally coming to the airport with us to be sent with
checked luggage.”
Jimin raised his eyebrows and whistled slightly. “That’s not cheap.”
Yoongi smirked. “Cheaper than buying all new equipment.”
“Um,” Jimin squirmed a little on his seat, and poked at his food briefly as the
rest of Yoongi’s words registered with him. He’d said ‘plane ticket.’ Singular.
One. “I, uh,” he trailed off.
Yoongi paused eating, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
Jimin bit his lip slightly before taking a breath. “I should be able to pay
for, um, for some of my plane ticket.”
Yoongi resumed eating, nodding. “Sure, that works. You can pay me back the rest
once we’re more settled in Seoul, ‘kay? I’ve got to buy both tickets together
anyway, though, if we want to sit together for that long-ass flight. I’ll get
reimbursed by BigHit once I arrive.”
Jimin started to smile, happy that Yoongi hadn’t insisted on paying for it
completely, but then he realized what he’d actually just said.
“Do you have enough to pay for all of that upfront?” he asked, startled.
“You’ll have to pay for the shipping and luggage, too, right?”
“Yeah. Not really,” Yoongi admitted, shrugging. “That’s why I’m just putting it
all on my credit card. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
They spent the rest of the evening researching flights, rather than packing.
Yoongi said he expected Jimin’s visa to be back by the end of November. They
decided to aim their departure for just before Christmas so that they could
have a bit of extra time before Yoongi was due to begin working, since he
wouldn’t have much time to help Jimin figure things out; although this was his
first time to live in Korea, too, he wasn’t by any means a stranger to the
country. His grandparents still lived in Daegu, where his parents were from,
and where his older brother had been born. Yoongi had visited many times over
the years, and he once spent a summer in Seoul, staying with Namjoon, hitting
up all the underground gigs worth checking out.
 
The next week flew by. Jimin didn’t see Stephen again. Yoongi started driving
Jimin to work more often, since he’d cut down his shifts at the coffee shop
once he’d started focusing more on the producing work he’d already started with
Namjoon and other musicians over the computer. Jimin enjoyed the extra time
with Yoongi, but he hated the coddled feeling he couldn’t help getting at
times. When the both of them were at home, they mostly spent it going through
Yoongi’s things, sorting everything that wasn’t definitely going into piles of
‘donate,’ ‘trash,’ or ‘I don’t know what the hell to do with this, I’ll think
about it later.’
Once they had a good number of boxes packed with the things they wouldn’t need
right away—books, mementos, summer clothes—Yoongi’s older brother Joongi came
over with his SUV to help bring the boxes to the post office. Yoongi obviously
didn’t have an address in Korea yet, so he was just sending everything to the
company building, where Namjoon promised to keep an eye on it all for him.
When Jimin opened the door to Joongi, he tried to hide his surprise. Joongi was
tall. And tan. And clean cut. Basically the opposite of Yoongi.
“Uh, hi,” Jimin said, suddenly shy. He backed out of the way so Joongi could
come in.
“Jimin, I assume?” Joongi smiled down at him warmly as he nodded, and he felt
some of his nervousness go away. The brothers had the same smile. Joongi
shifted the tray of coffees he held to offer his right for Jimin to shake.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet you.”
Jimin glanced over at Yoongi in surprise, wondering when—and what—he had talked
to his brother about Jimin.
“What, you didn’t bring Holly?” Yoongi came over and complained in lieu of a
greeting. He took the proffered tray of coffees from Joongi’s hand, grabbing
the iced Americano for himself and handing Jimin his hot coffee with milk and
sugar. Jimin wondered who Holly was. Did Joongi have a kid? He seemed old
enough to have children.
“Would you seriously want him running around your apartment and getting into
everything while we’re trying to load up boxes?” Joongi retorted, starting to
toe off his shoes, but Yoongi stopped him.
“Don’t bother. We’ll be going in and out too many times. I’ll just clean the
floor later.”
“How American,” his brother scoffed. Jimin noticed that Joongi had a slight
accent, reminiscent of Mr. and Mrs. Min’s accents, although not as strong.
Yoongi was the only one in the family with no accent when he spoke in English.
First Generation American, he’d said that one time.
“Shut up.”
It was clear that Yoongi and his brother bickered a lot, but Jimin could see
the love behind their jibes. Joongi was several years older than Yoongi, and
the dynamic between the two was interesting; it was the first time Jimin had
seen Yoongi around someone older than him other than his parents, and Yoongi
just seemed so…young. Jimin suddenly realized that he’d always only seen Yoongi
being the mature one, the hyung,if you will. He’d had to; there were so many
times he’d had to step in and take care of Jimin, that there were hardly any
times when he was allowed to just be a kid. Jimin liked seeing this side of
him, and made a mental note to try and bring this part out of Yoongi more
often.
“Who’s Holly? Jimin asked Yoongi when he got a chance. He groaned under the
weight of the box of books he’d made the mistake of picking up, and Joongi
quickly grabbed it from his arms when they reached his Toyota.
“He’s my dog,” Yoongi’s brother answered before Yoongi could even open his
mouth. “But this guy right here likes to pretend that he’s his dog.”
“I do not,” Yoongi protested childishly. “I just…have a soft spot for him in my
heart,” he explained, practically making heart eyes and smiling wistfully.
“Yeah,” Joongi nodded, shrugging at Yoongi dismissively, and winking at Jimin.
“He’s in love with my dog.”
Jimin grinned. He wanted to make a rude comment about worrying that there
wasn’t enough room in Yoongi’s heart for him, too, but he wasn’t sure if Joongi
knew about their relationship, and he didn’t want to mess things up by
accidentally saying something.
The trip to the post office didn’t take long, thankfully, although Jimin would
be happy if he never had to see another customs slip. (He knew he would have
to.) Yoongi treated his brother to lunch afterward to thank him for his help.
Throughout the entire time they were waiting in line to order, and also as they
sat in the booth eating the typical diner food, Yoongi kept putting his hands
on Jimin’s neck, or resting his arm on his shoulders, and Jimin didn’t miss the
way Joongi’s eyes zeroed in on the touches every time they occurred.
Uncomfortable, Jimin shrugged Yoongi’s hands off, pretending to reach for
something, but as soon as he moved back, Yoongi’s hands were on him again.
“Yoongi,” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough for only Yoongi to hear.
“What?” the other man didn’t appear to even notice what he was doing.
Joongi cleared his throat, and they both looked up at him. He had a small smile
on his lips that he was clearly trying to disguise.
“You might want to stop being so obvious if you’re trying to keep it a secret,
Yoongi-yah,” he teased, and the hand was suddenly pulled away from Jimin
shoulders. Yoongi scooted a couple inches away, and Jimin couldn’t help his
hand from clenching, hidden in his sleeve.
“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t tell Mom or Dad,” Yoongi said lowly, shifting just his leg so that it
touched Jimin’s under the table. Jimin felt his stomach ease a little, and his
fingers loosened from their tight grip on his sleeve.
“I won’t.”
“They still don’t…know about me,” Yoongi frowned, sounding small for the first
time Jimin had known him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Joongi seemed to hesitate, then. “If it’s
any consolation, though, I don’t think they will get upset.”
Yoongi just shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want them to know. Not…not
yet, at least.”
His brother nodded. “I understand. Your secret’s safe with me.”
After the awkward conversation with Yoongi’s brother, Jimin wasn’t sure what to
say to Yoongi once they were home and alone again. He was mildly surprised when
Yoongi pulled him close and began kissing him on the sofa.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin didn’t need to ask why, so
he just let the musician continue kissing and touching him until Yoongi calmed
down and just held him against his chest.
 
One day, after Jimin got his weekly pay, he secretly went into a walk-in clinic
and paid out of pocket for a heath test. Despite going through those check-ups
multiple times before, he was nervous as the doctor touched him and asked him
the usual questions. He was done in a matter of minutes, though, and was asked
to come back in a few days to get his results. Jimin hadn’t really cared much
before about his results, always feeling detached from the situation, but this
time he cared more than anything. He did his best to hide his anxiety from
Yoongi during that time, but he was sure that the other man suspected something
was up.
When he picked up the results, he scanned quickly through them with bated
breath and then hurried home as soon as he’d seen the final diagnosis.
Yoongi was sitting in front of his computer, as usual. Jimin put the paper down
in front of him without a word, directly on the keyboard.
“What’s this?” Yoongi looked up, confused.
“Read it,” Jimin said, not letting any emotion into his voice.
Yoongi frowned, and looked back down at the paper. His frown increased as he
skimmed down the page as he realized what the paper was for, but then he
reached the part Jimin was waiting for, and he looked up quickly.
“I’m clean,” Jimin said softly. “You don’t have to worry about catching
anything from me anymore.” He wasn’t expecting Yoongi to stand up suddenly.
“Oh, Jimin, that’s not—I’m just happy that you’re healthy. I couldn’t bear it
if you got sick. That’s serious stuff. Did you know I had to get an HIV test
done for my visa?"
Jimin stared at him in shock. "You what? How is that any of their business?"
He shrugged. "It's part of the arts and entertainment visa. I guess it's to
ensure that us dirty foreign artists don't spread an epidemic in their
country."
“But still.”
They were quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other, and then Jimin
bit his lip and ducked his head as he asked with a small smile, “Does this mean
we can have sex without a condom, now?”
Yoongi’s mouth dropped open, and he whacked Jimin over the head with the paper
that was still in his hand. “Yah, seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about
right now?”
“Yes?”
Yoongi closed his eyes in exasperation, and then opened them again. “Maybe,” he
said as he sat back down at his computer. “Not right now, though.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously.” He poked Jimin’s side, right where he was most ticklish, as he was
walking past him.
“Hey! That’s foul play!”
Yoongi only rolled his eyes, his lips twitching in his telltale trying-to-not-
smile expression. “Okay. Now let me work.”
Barely two hours later, Yoongi called him over.
“Jimin, can you help me with something?”
“Sure, what is it?” Jimin set down the tablet he was using to surf the internet
and shuffled over to Yoongi.
“I’m working on this song, and it’s mostly rap, but there’s a vocal
accompaniment throughout the song. Would you be willing to sing it? Just for
the guide, of course,” he added quickly.
Jimin felt himself start to get excited. “Of course I’ll sing for you! Any time
you want me to, you only need to ask,” he grinned, pulling the piano stool over
to the desk to sit on.
It didn’t take long for Jimin’s enthusiasm to dissipate. The song was in
Korean, and although Jimin had thought he was starting to get a handle of
speaking in Korean, apparently his pronunciation was still awful. (No one ever
told him that, though.) Pretty much the only English words he sang in the song
were “so far away” and Jimin kept mixing up the rest of the words. He
eventually managed it with a lot of coaching from Yoongi.
When they finally finished Jimin’s part, and connected it to Yoongi’s emotional
rap—Jimin could get the gist of the lyrics’ meaning, but not a hundred percent
of it—he sat back in awe at the masterpiece that Yoongi had created.
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed. The combination of their voices really worked
well. Even though the quality wasn’t anything like a song produced by a
mainstream musician, Jimin could still feel the potential for it to be truly
great.
“I love your voice,” Yoongi sighed. “It’s such a shame…” he trailed off.
Jimin frowned. “What’s a shame?”
“It’s just that, you have so much potential with your voice. You could really
make something out of it. But you’d never be able to pursue your singing
seriously.”
“What? Why not?” Jimin couldn’t believe the negative statement that had just
come out of Yoongi’s mouth. What did he mean, Jimin could never pursue his
singing? Granted, it wasn’t exactly something that he’d ever considered for
himself, making a career out of music, but to just go outright and say that he
couldn’t do it….
“If you ever choose to become a singer, your past will definitely be dug up.
Anyone who gets even remotely famous nearly always gets their past unearthed by
fans—especially by antifans digging for dirt. It wouldn’t take long at all for
people to find out about your history.”
Jimin felt sudden anger boil within him. He stood up so suddenly that the stool
fell over. He didn’t pick it up.
“Why would you say that?” he hissed, already feeling himself closing off his
defenses.
Yoongi looked up, startled. “What do you mean? It’s the truth. I’m just
saying—”
“I’m too filthy to become anything, that’s what you’re saying. I have to keep
myself hidden, because if anyone finds out that I used to do porn, it’ll ruin
my career. No one wants to listen to a fuckboy who lets other men—”
“Jimin, stop it—”
“No, youstop it. I know, okay? I know! That’s all I’ll ever be. I’m just the
leftovers, and no one will ever—”
“Jimin, no, please—”
But Jimin cut the entire conversation off. “I’m going for a run. Don’t follow
me. I need to be alone for a bit.”
He didn’t wait to see if Yoongi would stop him. He grabbed his wallet and
phone, and stormed out of the apartment.
It was chilly out, typical mid-autumn weather. He hadn’t brought a jacket, but
he knew he’d warm up once he started running. He switched off his phone and
then took his usual route, going by the park and toward the waterfront. It was
beginning to get late in the afternoon, and the days were shorter now that
winter was approaching, so the sun was already hanging low on the horizon. He
paused once he reached his favorite place on the boardwalk, walking over to
lean against the railings and let the strong ocean breeze cut through his
hoodie. He needed the shocking refresher.
The longer he stood there, staring out over the waves, watching the light
disappear and letting the salty air envelope him, the more he realized that as
much as Yoongi’s words had hurt him, he hadn’t been wrong. He hadn’t been
judging Jimin. He hadn’t told him to not be a singer. He had only warned him
that he would encounter huge problems if he did. And the hardest part to admit
was that he hadn’t even been exaggerating. Jimin knew that.
Yoongi didn’t deserve Jimin’s anger. He may have not been thinking when he
phrased his words, but he hadn’t meant any of it to hurt Jimin. Once again, he
had only been trying to protect Jimin.
The cold had seeped into his body by this point, and he was starting to shiver,
so he did a few quick stretches, rolled his shoulders back a few times, and
then turned to run back home.
The second Jimin walked in the door, Yoongi was in front of him, looking
distraught.
“Why did you turn your phone off?” he exclaimed, reaching for Jimin’s shoulders
but then holding himself back. His voice was strangely hoarse, and his face
seemed puffy.
Jimin sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I know you
didn’t mean it like that.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi said, voice sounding absolutely despondent. “I’m sorry. I’m so
sorry. I—”
Jimin surged forward and seized his face between both hands, pulling him in for
a heated kiss. Yoongi made a choked sound and responded by pushing him hard
against the wall.
He wasn’t sure how they made it over to the sofa, but before he knew it, Jimin
had been divested of his hoodie and shirt, and Yoongi’s mouth was everywhere.
Jimin struggled to pull at Yoongi’s shirt, until the other man finally got the
idea and broke contact so he could arch back and rid himself of it. Jimin
immediately ran a hand up his body from his belly button to the left side of
his chest. There was a tense pause, heavy with both of their breathing, before
they both moved toward each other, meeting in the middle.
“I love you, I love you, Jimin,” Yoongi nearly whimpered. “Don’t, don’t ever
forget that. I know I don’t ever tell you that, but I really do.”
Jimin choked slightly as he licked and sucked at Yoongi’s neck, as Yoongi
kissed his temple softly. “I know. I know you do. I’m sorry.”
Eventually they moved upstairs from the uncomfortable sofa, depositing the rest
of their clothing at the edge of the loft mattress. They moved against each
other, slowly at first, then more frantically as Jimin unraveled, high whines
spilling from his throat, only to be swallowed up by Yoongi’s mouth.
The feeling of Yoongi’s bare skin sliding in and out of him, rubbing and
pushing against his prostate again and again, pulled him apart in the best way
possible. He could feel his heartbeat increase as he grew closer to his
release.
Abruptly Jimin tensed around him, mouth open in a soundless cry as thick drops
hit his stomach and chest. The aftershocks kept him clenching and unclenching
around Yoongi’s cock several times until abruptly Yoongi groaned, tightening
his grip on Jimin’s hips. The rush of hot semen spilling into his body felt so
right, knowing it was Yoongi’s and no one else’s. Jimin stared up at the man
trembling above him. He loved seeing how gone Yoongi looked coming down from
his high, continuing to buck his hips shallowly, the sound a lot wetter than
before. Jimin felt his mouth fill with saliva, and he struggled to swallow it
down before it dripped past the corners of his mouth.
He spread his legs a little wider and then locked them around Yoongi’s hips,
pulling him even deeper. He felt a little liquid spill out around Yoongi’s dick
as some of the cum was pushed out of his body.
“Fuck, Jimin.”
“Feels so good,” he breathed. “I want you to fill me up and paint me all over.”
Yoongi made a choking noise—Jimin couldn’t tell if it was caused by amusement
or surprise—and thrust a little harder. “You can’t just saythings like that,
Jimin.”
They were both shaking, but neither wanted to stop. Yoongi lazily circled his
hips as he pulled Jimin’s chin up to explore his mouth, effectively muffling
the desperate whimpers and moans slipping from his lips. He eventually pulled
out, but Jimin’s hand shot down to push inside himself despite the overwhelming
sensitivity, pushing the cum back in. Yoongi covered his hand with his own,
massaging the area and lacing their fingers together before drawing his hand
away. He brought the hand to his lips, kissing Jimin’s knuckles gently.
Chapter End Notes
     I figured we'd end on a good note, this time around. I was going to
     be cruel, and cut you guys off right in the middle of the fight, but
     then...I couldn't do it, hahaha. Be thankful, because there's worse
     stuff coming. I feel like this chapter was a little different,
     because we got to see Yoongi's more vulnerable side. I really enjoyed
     writing the things Jimin noticed; I think his eyes are opening up
     more to everything around him.
     Side note...I have no idea if Joongi is actually Yoongi's brother's
     name. I tried looking it up, but some people said it was unreleased
     to the public, and others said it was "Jun Ki," but I figured it
     would follow the same rules as Yoongi's name, and switched it. So
     don't go assuming I know what his name is, LOL.
     The next chapter is nearly all written, actually, since I ended up
     having to split this chapter in two--it got too long! So you can
     probably expect another update over the weekend. ;)
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! They keep me motivated!
***** Chapter XIII *****
Chapter Notes
     Another long chapter! Warnings are in place...it's going to be a
     roller coaster ride of emotions here.
     Just a reminder, "/dialogue/" means people are speaking in Korean.
     There's a LOT of switching back and forth, so even if it looks like
     maybe I forgot to add the slash, I can assure you that it was
     intentional. I reread their dialogue a million times to make sure.
     The stuff I left without slashes is dialogue I felt they would
     probably say in English anyway, even if everyone in the conversation
     had been previously speaking in Korean.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XIII.
 
Yoongi had another performance scheduled for over the weekend. Jimin had known
about it, of course, but what he hadn’t known was that not only Hoseok, but
also Namjoon would be participating in the show. Namjoon was set to arrive two
days before the show, and would stay through until Monday. Yoongi showed Jimin
the flyers advertising the event. They had photos of ‘Agust D’ and ‘J-Hope’
(Hoseok’s stage name, which explained his nickname, ‘Hobi’), and then in the
third photo, the rapper’s silhouette was blacked out, with question marks where
his name would be. ‘RM,’ as Namjoon called himself, was to be the surprise
performer at the city’s large K-Culture Event.
Namjoon arrived in the evening on Thursday. After dropping most of his stuff
off at his hotel, he took an Uber over to Yoongi’s to have dinner with them. He
was taller than Jimin had expected. Was this going to become a trend? He
thought back to his meeting of Joongi. Sometimes it felt like everyone was
taller than him.
“Oh my god, you’re so cute!” Namjoon exclaimed, and nearly dropped his bag as
he tried to hug Jimin in the doorway of Yoongi’s apartment.
The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he
otherwise kept a straight face.
“Don’t you go trying to steal him from me, Monie.”
Namjoon made a face as he let go of Jimin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, hyung. But
I can still claim him as my favorite dongsaeng!”
Jimin blushed and stepped back, feeling awkward. He’d talked with Namjoon
plenty of times, but meeting him in person was strange.
They lounged around Yoongi’s apartment for several hours, chowing down on
Mexican food from one of Namjoon’s favorite local restaurants, and chatting
about a combination of the most random things in addition to more practical
matters, like Yoongi and Jimin’s move to Seoul. Yoongi and Namjoon enjoyed
several beers, while Jimin only asked once if he could have one (Yoongi said
no, again; why did he always have to be the responsible one?) before settling
with a cherry cola. He certainly didn’t mind the way Yoongi absently petted his
hair as they sprawled on the sofa together, Namjoon spinning around and rolling
back and forth on Yoongi’s workstation chair as he talked. Jimin noticed for
the first time that Namjoon was easily distracted, and jumped back and forth
between topics.
When Saturday evening rolled around, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok met Taehyung at
the bus station, where they all then piled into an Uber together to get to the
event venue where they met up with Namjoon. He was wearing a low bucket hat and
a face mask to hide his identity. Jimin thought it made him stand out even more
than if he’d gone without.
The event was both indoor and outdoor, with various stages, folding tables and
chairs lining the outer areas, and booths for buying food and drinks. It was
mostly a combination of bar food and Korean grab-and-go food, but the smell of
grilling meat and Korean spices filling the air made Jimin’s mouth salivate.
Although the attendees were overwhelmingly Korean (or of some kind of Asian
background; Jimin couldn’t tell the difference yet), there was also a
significant number of people from all backgrounds. It was pretty cool to see
how many people were interested in Korean culture. Jimin wished he knew more
about his own country, but he supposed there was plenty of time to learn. This
was just a start.
The three rappers only had enough time to grab a quick bite to eat before they
had to rush backstage. 
"Right, we'll meet back up over there after our stage," Yoongi said, pointing
to an area toward the back where there were some more secluded tables. "You
guys stick together, okay? I don't want to lose either of you in the crowd."
“/We’re not kids, Suga-hyung,/” Taehyung laughed. “/Don’t worry about us. I
can’t wait to see you rap! Jimin told me how badass you are on stage,/” he
winked at Jimin as he said this, and Jimin kicked him playfully.
“/Shut up,/” he scolded. But he turned to Yoongi and smiled. “Good luck. You
guys are going to kill it.”
Yoongi smirked, already starting to shift into his stage persona. “Of course we
are.”
 
One by one the lights on stage lit up, illuminating each rapper for a few
seconds as they started rapping a line, then fading out before moving on to the
next one. It was all very dramatic, and Jimin cheered along with everyone as
the energy increased in the venue. He could practically feel the excitement
when RM was revealed, the arena nearly exploding with the force of the cheers.
Jimin had no idea RM was that popular of a rapper. He had always just been the
guy Yoongi talked to through the computer.
Then there was a big flash and all three rappers became visible as the stage
was lit up. 
"/This is so dope!/" Taehyung yelled in Jimin's ear, jumping up and down and
dabbing to the music. "/They're so savage, oh my god!/"
Jimin realized that Taehyung probably could understand the lyrics better than
he could. He could pick out words here and there, but the speed at which they
spat out the words was way too fast for Jimin. But despite not understanding
every word, he still enjoyed the show. He loved seeing the badass version of
Yoongi. It made his heart race, to the point that he needed to bite his lip and
look away from Agust D, watching the other two instead so he wouldn’t get
overwhelmed when the deep voiced rapper stared him down and stuck his tongue
out obscenely in between lyrics that Jimin knewwere dirty.
As soon as the three rappers’ stage ended, and a DJ took over again, Jimin
turned to Taehyung.
“Taehyung-ah, I’m gonna quick use the bathroom,” Jimin shouted in Taehyung’s
ear over the loud music. Taehyung nodded and gestured that he’d stay there to
wait. He was having too much fun dancing like a crazy person to the energetic
music. Jimin grinned and mouthed, “I’ll be right back!”
He slowly made his way through the thick crowd until he found the hallway with
the restrooms. It was much quieter there, and he felt like he could finally
breathe properly again. There was no one in the bathroom when he entered, so he
took a moment to fix his hair and straighten his clothes. He stared at his face
in the mirror, touching his flushed cheeks gently. He still felt a little hot
and bothered from watching Agust D on stage. He bit his lip as he tried to not
smile at the thought of what he wanted to do with the rapper once they got home
that evening.
He shook his head and went to over to the urinals. 
He was just finishing up at the urinal when the door swung open, and a heavily
inebriated man stumbled into the bathroom.
“Yo,” he saluted to Jimin, grinning widely with bright, white teeth, before
going over to the urinal directly next to him.
Jimin raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, zipping back up and going
over to wash his hands. Weirdo.
He looked up into the mirror when he suddenly felt a heavy weight against his
back.
“You kinda cute,” the man said, reaching both arms around him to wash his own
hands. “You an idol?”
“Um, do you mind?”
Jimin scowled, trying to push back to put more room between himself and the
counter and hopefully duck under the guy’s arms. Abruptly those arms locked
around his waist, and he was pushed even harder against the counter.
“Ooh, I like the way you think,” hot breath reeking of beer was suddenly in his
ear. No, this couldn’t be happening. He yelped as he was yanked away from the
counter and shoved against the wall.
“Stop it, let go of—!” Jimin was cut off as his mouth was covered, the man
kissing him hard to keep him from making noise. Jimin could taste the booze in
his mouth. It was disgusting. He gripped both of Jimin’s wrists in one fist,
holding them tightly against the tile, high above Jimin’s head. Jimin squirmed
and tried kicking, but despite not being that much taller than him, the drunk
man was packing muscle and simply leaned harder against him to hold him still.
When the man’s right hand began pulling at Jimin’s jeans, he whimpered and
tried screaming, but the sound was just swallowed by the man’s mouth.
Stop it, stop it, please, he begged in his head. Somebody, please. He
desperately wished for someone to come through the door, but no one did. The
sounds of loud music were muffled by the heavy metal door; Jimin was sure that
even if he did manage to call for help, no one would hear him.
He choked when a long, thick finger pushed deep into him. He tried again to
push the drunk man away, but that only served to force the finger in harder.
“Ya wan’ h’rder?” the man slurred against his mouth, barely intelligible. “C’n
give ya harder,” he suddenly enunciated strongly, and Jimin gasped as two
fingers pushed so deeply into him that the man’s top knuckles nearly breached
his entrance. His fingernails dragged against Jimin's prostate. The man’s mouth
was back on his before he could think to take advantage of his momentarily
unobstructed vocals.
It felt like ages later but was likely only a minute or two when the door swung
open, loud music pouring into the bathroom briefly, and then suddenly a
startled but familiar voice broke through.
“What the—?! Get your fucking hands off him, motherfucker!” Jimin had never
heard Namjoon’s voice so filled with fury. He was practically spitting. The man
was ripped away from him, and there was a loud crack as the tall rapper punched
the guy full in the face, probably breaking his nose. “What the fuck do you
think you’re doing, you filthy piece of shit?”
Jimin slid to the floor, quietly zipped his jeans back up, and then curled his
legs up to his chest as he heaved for air through his sobs. He heard a dull
thud as Namjoon shoved the guy to the ground, before walking over to crouch
down by Jimin.
“Jimin-ah. My god. Let’s get you out of here.” He helped him to his feet, but
Jimin’s knees buckled and his vision swirled. “Whoa, it’s all right, I’ve got
you.” He felt his feet leave the ground as Namjoon scooped him up as if he
weighed nothing. Jimin clutched the front of his jacket, hiding his face as
they went back out into the crowd. A moment later, the noise seemed muffled
slightly. He realized Namjoon was taking him backstage.
"/Namjoon-ah, what're you—Jimin?!/" It was Hoseok. A hand touched the back of
his head. "/What happened?/"
"/Where's Suga-hyung?/" Namjoon asked instead of answering.
"/He's—hang on, I'll get him./"
Namjoon set Jimin down on a chair, crouching down to his level so he could
speak quietly to him. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked, hands firm
and comforting on Jimin's shoulders.
Jimin shook his head. He'd had worse. He just needed to pretend that this was
another video. He had literally lost count of the number of times he’d been
forced to endure much worse. The guy hadn’t even gotten his dick out of his
pants. It had been nothing. He’d be fine, he told himself. He had to be strong.
"You sure? Jimin?"
"I'm, I'm fine," he mumbled, head down.
Namjoon tsked. "You're not fine. Don't pretend. Just because it's not the first
ti—"
"Jimin!" Yoongi's voice cut through their whispering. The relief at hearing his
deep voice, combined with the shock at what Namjoon was about to say, sent a
wave of tears down his cheeks, and he leaned forward, folding himself nearly in
half as he covered his face with his hands and hid against his knees. Namjoon
knew? Had Yoongi told him? When?
"What the hell happened?" Yoongi demanded.
"Some shit-faced douchebag accosted him in the bathroom."
Jimin couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped his mouth. Why were they
making such a big deal out of it? They were making it worse. If he could just
forget it, pretend it hadn’t happened, he’d be fine.
A hand pressed soothingly against his back.
"I'm here," Yoongi's voice murmured in his ear, before he turned back to
Namjoon. "Please don't tell me he was—no. Where the fuck was Taehyung?" Sharp
anger seeped into Yoongi's voice, and the hand on his back was tense. "They
were supposed to stay together! I told them to stick together!"
"Not his fault," Jimin cried. "I was just going to the bathroom. Please don't
tell him. I don't want him to know." He didn't want Taehyung to start treating
him differently. It was such a relief being around someone who didn't know
anything about how fucked up Jimin's life was. And he couldn't burden Taehyung
with that.
Yoongi begrudgingly agreed to not tell him.
"I'm gonna go see if I can get that guy kicked out, if he's not gone already,"
Namjoon said, tapping Yoongi on the shoulder.
"You want to give him a swift kick in the nuts for me before he's kicked out?"
Yoongi asked, and Jimin didn't think he was joking.
"I'll see what I can do. I'll also see if I can find Tae—"
"/Hyung, I can't find Jimin anywhere—oh, there you are!/"
Jimin quickly straightened up and wiped his face, grateful for the dim
lighting. He forced a smile on his face, ignoring the way Yoongi stared at him.
"/Hey! Sorry Tae, I ran into Namjoon-hyung and he brought me back here./"
Taehyung hesitated, looking between them all. "/Is something wrong?/"
"/No! No, nothing's wrong./" He rushed to stand up, and nearly fell, if it
wasn't for Yoongi already holding onto him. "I'm fine. I just...just twisted my
ankle," he lied, switching back to English because he didn't know how to say it
in Korean.
"Oh." He looked like he didn't believe Jimin, but then he nodded. "Okay. In
that case.../You guys were sick! I've never heard rap so fast, and you really
killed it with that Cypher! You’ve got to tell me where I can download your
tracks./"
Namjoon awkwardly laughed and thanked him, before excusing himself to "go take
care of something." Yoongi grunted, tight-lipped.
Jimin's guilt at single-handedly ruining their entire evening made him wish he
could just disappear. Maybe the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
That would be good. He subtly reached out his hand and caught Yoongi's pinkie,
holding it tightly in his own. When Yoongi squeezed back, Jimin felt himself
calm down just a little.
 Jimin stuck to Yoongi's side for the rest of the night as they sat at a table
in a somewhat secluded area of the venue, but he felt like he was being torn in
two directions. He did his best to be excited with Taehyung, but any time there
was a lull in the conversation, he found himself staring off into space. He
barely registered Yoongi suggesting that they head home because “Jimin seems
tired."
"No, I'm fine," he protested, grabbing Taehyung's wrist and pulling him up from
their table. "/Let's go check out that Kpop fashion stage outside, Tae. You
wanted to see the fashion walk, didn’t you?/"
"/Yeah, that's true.../" He knew Taehyung could tell there was something wrong
with him. He could see that Taehyung had been confused when Yoongi made no
effort to engage him in conversation, and was clearly angry with him for some
reason that the youngest of the group didn’t understand.
"/Then let's go,/" Jimin tugged on his wrist. When Yoongi started to stand, he
pushed him back down. "No, you stay, Suga-hyung," he ordered, the name still
feeling strange but not unpleasant on his tongue. "You'll be bored anyway.
Catch up with these two."
Yoongi caught his hand just as he was turning to leave. He squeezed it tightly.
"Stay together."
Taehyung threw his arm around Jimin's shoulders as they walked outside into the
crisp night. Jimin took in a deep breath, liking the way his insides chilled
with the entrance of the autumn air. 
"/Wow, it's cold out here!/" Taehyung exclaimed, gripping Jimin's shoulder
tightly. "/Let's grab something hot to eat first./" They quickly bought a plate
of spicy tteokbokki covered in cheese to share, and then hurried over to the
crowd of people by the low stage.
Jimin didn't really want to eat, but he did, nearly burning his tongue in the
process. He halfway paid attention to the fashion show, nodding and agreeing
whenever Taehyung said something. He didn't realize he was shivering until he
felt a jacket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up in surprise at Taehyung,
who smiled down at him. 
"/Don't worry about me; I run hot. But I don't want my little Chim Chim
freezing out here!/" He leaned close to whisper in Jimin's ear. "/Suga-hyung
might kill me./"
Jimin forced a smile and pulled the jacket tighter.
It was nearing the end of the show when Jimin suddenly felt sick. He watched a
couple a few feet away from them flirting and touching each other, the man
getting a little handsy with the woman. She clearly didn't mind, but Jimin felt
his stomach rise, and he wrenched himself away from Taehyung, bolting over to
the edge of the lot where he fell to his knees and lost the entire contents of
his stomach to the grass. He dry-heaved for several moments as Taehyung rubbed
his back. When he was done, he wiped his face with the leftover paper napkin
Taehyung handed him.
“You’re all white,” he pointed out, switching to English. “Let’s go, okay?” He
pulled Jimin shakily to his feet and gave him a quick hug.
“Don’t tell them, okay?” Jimin muttered, continuing to wipe at his face even
though there was probably nothing left on it.
“Okay, I won’t, but you kinda smell like vomit right now, so they’re gonna
know.”
“Thanks, I needed to hear that.” Jimin took a deep, puke-flavored breath, and
then straightened up.
Taehyung was right; the other three figured out what had happened immediately.
Jimin gratefully took the cup of cola Hoseok handed him, and swished it around
his mouth briefly before swallowing it down, the carbonation burning all the
way down his raw throat. Then Yoongi pulled Taehyung’s jacket off of him,
tossing it heavily back to its owner, and replaced it with his own. Jimin
pulled the still-warm material tight around himself, breathing in the calming
scent of the rapper. He wished it was Yoongi’s arms around him instead, but
they were in public, in a place where many people had their eyes on them due to
the rappers’ presence; that wouldn’t be possible.
Jimin and Yoongi left before the others, sitting silently in the Uber on the
way home. Jimin took a scalding shower and pulled on a pair of comfy sleep
pants and the long-sleeved t-shirt Yoongi had worn the night before. When
Yoongi finally climbed up into bed with him, Jimin curled into his chest,
wrapping himself in the other’s arms. He took a shuddering breath, inhaling the
scent of Yoongi’s shampoo, and then let himself melt against him. He didn’t
fall asleep instantly, but when he eventually did slip into unconsciousness, he
was granted a dreamless slumber.
 
By morning, Jimin’s old defenses were back up. He went for his usual morning
run, and when they went to meet up with Namjoon for lunch, he was his usual
cheerful self. The other two didn’t seem to know how to react to his change of
behavior, but he continued to ignore the awkwardness until Namjoon finally
shrugged and partook in the denial game.
They had gone to the pizza restaurant at the mall, and the owners, Mr. and Mrs.
Kim, got so excited when Namjoon went up to them to chat. He seemed very happy
that they remembered him after all that time.
“So, what’s Jin-hyung up to these days?” he asked them as Jimin took a large
bite of pizza, watching the exchange. “I lost touch with him after starting
university.”
“Oh, Seokjinie’s living in Seoul now! He went to Seoul National University, and
now he’s working on getting his master’s in Business Administration and
Marketing there.”
Namjoon let out an impressed whistle. “He got into SNU? That’s crazy.”
“Would you like his contact info, Namjoon-ah? I’m sure he’d love to hear from
you.”
“Sure! That would be great, Mrs. Kim. Thanks,” Namjoon smiled widely as Mrs.
Kim pulled out her phone to pull up Jin’s info, and then wrote it down on the
back of an order slip. “I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city all
this time and I never knew.”
Namjoon came back to sit down and enjoy his pizza finally.
“Jin-hyung’s in Seoul!” he told them.
“We heard,” Yoongi deadpanned, and got a whack on the shoulder for that. “Hey,
is that any way to treat your hyung? Anyway, that’s great. We’ll have to all
get back together once we’re there.”
Jimin had to leave them after lunch to head to work, where he was a little glad
that Taehyung wasn’t working the same shift. Taehyung never worked Sundays,
since that was his homework day. Jimin welcomed the monotonous cycle of working
the register, and even felt semi-normal by the end of the night. He wasn’t
expecting Yoongi to pick him up, but when ten rolled around, the rapper walked
through the doors, helmet in hand. He bought a pack of tofu, two lollipops—one
of which he opened up and stuck into Jimin’s mouth—and two bottles of soju.
“Interesting choice of purchases,” Jimin teased, smirking slightly around the
lollipop. “Can I see your ID, sir?” Yoongi rolled his eyes as he pulled it from
his wallet.
 
Later, as they were lying in bed together, Jimin pulled Yoongi close to slot
their mouths together, licking deep into Yoongi’s mouth. He maneuvered the
other so that he was on top of Jimin, and he slipped his hands underneath
Yoongi’s shirt to smooth his hands over his backside. Their movements
intensified for several minutes, but then Yoongi pulled back.
“Why are you stopping?” Jimin whined, trying to draw him back down.
Yoongi hesitated.
“It’s fine,” Jimin mumbled. “I’m still clean. He only used his fingers. He
didn’t actually fuck me.”
Yoongi made a pained face. “That’s not—that’s not what I was going to ask.”
“What then?” Jimin sighed, looking away and picking at a loose thread in the
pillowcase.
“Are you really okay with this? It’s not too soon? I mean, look—” he traced his
fingertips gently along Jimin’s lower abdomen, just above his groin, sending an
unpleasant jolt through him, “you’re flinching. If you’re flinching when I
touch you, it’s too soon.”
“Please just fuck me, Yoongi,” Jimin begged, turning his watering eyes on the
man hovering over him. “Maybe it’s not okay right now, but it will be. You make
it better.”
Yoongi eventually gave in, and Jimin cried as he held on tightly to him,
panting and spent on the mattress.
Jimin didn’t know if he felt better. But Yoongi’s fingers running through his
hair, his soft kisses to his cheekbones and corner of his lips, the way he held
him securely against himself…at least he knew he felt safe.
 
Maybe it was the tension from the incident at the event. Maybe it was the
stress from preparing to move halfway across the world. Jimin wasn’t sure
exactly what it was, but he started feeling suffocated. He spent a lot of his
free time hanging out with Taehyung. He was starting to feel like a real, best
friend, and Jimin was so happy that he would still be able to see him in Seoul
after moving.
One afternoon, Taehyung had the brilliant idea for Jimin to do a dance
performance on the street in the city. When Jimin explained that he didn’t want
anyone to know who he was, Taehyung handed him a black face mask.
“/Just wear that, and I don’t know, a hat or something. It’ll be fine.
Seriously, you should do this, Jimin-ah. You have so much talent!/”
Jimin found himself getting more excited about the idea of dancing out in
public, and they picked out a somewhat busy—but not too busy—street corner for
him to set up the speaker Taehyung borrowed from his roommate. Jimin made sure
the mask was well covering his lower face before tugging down Yoongi's red
snapback slightly and pulling the hood of his gray hoodie up over his head. He
did a few stretches in his baggy black sweatpants, and made sure his
Timberlands were tied tightly.
Jimin had set up a playlist ahead of time, mostly hip hop in nature, but a few
fusions as well; classical violins or piano with a heavy hip hop beat. He felt
a little self-conscious at first, but once he started dancing and letting the
music flow through him, it was completely natural. He garnered quite a crowd,
and even got a few dance offs with some cocky university kids when Taehyung
riled them up enough to jump in. Jimin and Taehyung stayed for just about two
hours before they had to pack up and go to meet Yoongi and Hobi for dinner at a
local burger shop.
Jimin felt high off the energy from dancing for others, and he was very koala-
y with Taehyung all the way to the restaurant, recounting various memorable
moments from the street performance.
“/What’re you two both so happy about?/” Hobi asked them suspiciously as they
were giggling to themselves while eating together a while later.
“Jiminie is the bomb!” Taehyung exclaimed in English, clapping Jimin on the
back and accidentally making him choke a bit on his curly fries.
“Oh?” Yoongi looked over, interested. “How so?”
“/He did a street dance over by the park, and it was so sick!/”
“Yeah, some people passing by even stopped to do dance offs with me,” Jimin
grinned.
“/A bunch of people were taking videos, too,/” Taehyung added.
Yoongi’s smile dropped, and he set his drink down.
“/What if the videos go viral?/” he asked tensely.
“/It’s fine; I was wearing a mask,/” Jimin said at the same time that Taehyung
exclaimed, “/That would be sweet! Then I can meme you!/”
Taehyung laughed, grabbing Jimin’s head and rubbing their skulls together
roughly, thoroughly messing up Jimin’s hair. “/You’ll be internet famous!/”
Jimin saw Yoongi open his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut
without a word. He stood up angrily and went over to dump his trash in the bin.
Part of Jimin wanted to go after him, but the other part of him was still sore
as he remembered their argument the other day about singing. He let Yoongi stay
angry.
If Hoseok, who was normally perceptive about the way Yoongi and Jimin acted
around each other, had noticed the tension, he didn’t say anything.
Taehyung, of course, didn’t know what was going on, so he got mad on Jimin’s
behalf once Yoongi was back in his seat.
“/Why are you guys allowed to get up on stage, but he isn’t allowed to even
dance in the street? You can’t tell him what to do. You’re not his father./”
“Thank-fucking-god I’m not.” Yoongi snapped, and then grabbed his jacket. “I’m
out. See you at home, Jimin.” Then, without waiting to see if Jimin came after
him, he stormed out of the restaurant.
Jimin blanched, and started to get out of his seat, unsure if he should follow.
Yoongi was going home, right? Was he not intending to bring Jimin with him?
Jimin closed his mouth, which had been open in intended protest, and sat back
down. He put his head on the table and groaned.
“Don’t worry about him, Jiminie,” Hobi said, reaching over the small table to
pat him on the head. “Just give him some time to cool off. I can call an Uber
for you later.”
“/Why is he being such an asshole about this?/” Taehyung groused as he finished
off the last of his fries.
Chapter End Notes
     I never said that Jimin and Yoongi's relationship was perfect....
     When I was writing Jimin's dance, I was inspired by that video of
     Hope on the Street (https://www.youtube.com/
     watch?v=3hnQNZcaoWk)...which you can probably also tell was the
     reference for Jimin's drawing last chapter, lol!
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment!
***** Chapter XIV *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! I've been sick all week, and couldn't write much of anything, but
     I feel a little better now (and had to take time off work, so that
     also gave me more time), so here's another weekend update!
     Warnings for this chapter: it's a sad one. Get your tissues ready.
     And listen to this playlist of sad songs: https://youtu.be/
     UKyb_3gBmj4
     If you start the music right when you start reading the chapter, it's
     pretty accurate to each scene, actually. Although depending on your
     reading speed, it might not be long enough/be too long.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XIV.
 
When Jimin got home that night, Yoongi didn’t apologize for storming off, so
Jimin didn’t apologize for dancing in public. He still didn’t think he’d done
anything wrong. He’d been careful. He’d barely been able to see his eyes when
he’d checked his appearance in the metro station’s bathroom mirror before they
headed over toward the park. What did Yoongi expect him to do? Stay locked up
and hidden forever?
The apartment was awkward. It wasn’t that Yoongi was giving him the silent
treatment; he still said things like, “You’re back,” when Jimin got home, “I
washed up already, you can use the bathroom,” and “I’m going to bed. Night.”
Jimin climbed up into bed much later, and he couldn’t tell if Yoongi was asleep
or not. He settled on the opposite side of the mattress, the farthest away that
he’d slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easily, and he had to fight against
the angry tears that threatened to rise out of him, but eventually he did fall
asleep. It was a fitful sleep, with dreams full of unwanted hands and angry
voices.
Jimin woke up wrapped in warmth, a strong heat pressed against his back. As he
became more awake, he realized that Yoongi had pulled him back against his
chest, and had nestled his chin against Jimin’s shoulder, his hot breath
spreading moisture against Jimin’s neck. He sighed, silently, and let himself
enjoy the closeness for a bit, until he felt Yoongi begin to stir. Jimin closed
his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
He shivered slightly as he felt soft, lingering kisses against his neck, and
despite himself couldn’t help it when his breath hitched slightly as Yoongi’s
hand rubbed soothing circles against his lower stomach. He turned around in
Yoongi’s embrace and captured the other man’s mouth with his own, pulling him
tightly against his body. There was a moment of surprise in Yoongi’s expression
before he returned the kiss just as eagerly.
Jimin was quiet as they moved against each other this time. He wanted the
closeness, he wanted Yoongi, but his mind was torn. He stared up at Yoongi,
gently touching his sweaty brow as the musician thrust into him, hitting all
the right spots. His hand was around Jimin’s dick, twisting and pumping in
rhythm, and Jimin just let himself lie back and feel everything. When he came,
it was sooner than he expected, and with a startled cry. Yoongi paused
momentarily before pushing into him harder in an effort to finish himself off
quickly, but when Jimin began to squirm in discomfort, the other man pulled out
and made do with his hand, creating a mess on Jimin’s stomach.
He collapsed onto Jimin with a wet, squelching sound, and made a brief noise of
disgust before sighing and kissing Jimin.
“We should get up and shower,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“Yeah,” Jimin replied noncommittedly.
Yoongi straightened up. “I’m not carrying you.”
“I didn’t ask you to. Go ahead and shower. I’ll be down soon.”
Yoongi leaned down once more to give him a quick peck on the lips before he
crawled out of bed and swung himself over the side of the loft to climb down
the steps.
Jimin lay there for several minutes, listening to the shower turn on and the
water run through the pipes in the walls. He absently looked down at the sticky
mixture on his abdomen that they hadn’t bothered cleaning up. He sighed and
reached over to grab some tissues, getting the worst of it before he dragged
himself out of bed. Yoongi was just leaving the bathroom when he came down, and
Jimin silently passed him, shutting and locking the door. He hadn’t locked the
door in a while, but he felt like he wanted the space now.
He stood listlessly under the shower spray, almost forgetting to actually wash
himself before the water ran cold.
“Jimin, hurry up, we’ve got to go!” Yoongi called through the door, knocking
loudly and startling him. Jimin quickly finished up and dried off before
tossing on his clothes, running a hand through his hair, and brushing his
teeth. He hadn’t even eaten yet, why were they leaving already?
“Come on, come on, we’re going to be late,” Yoongi urged as soon as he was out
of the bathroom.
Both Yoongi and Jimin had to work that day. Jimin had nearly forgotten. Yoongi
dropped him off at work before heading over to the coffee shop.
“Hey, Jimin!” Taehyung greeted him as he stepped into the back of the store to
put his things away and clock in.
“Hey. What’s up.”
Taehyung sighed and frowned at him. “/Is Yoongi still being a jerk?/”
“/He’s not a jerk,/” Jimin protested. “/He’s just…ugh, I don’t know. There are
a lot of things going on right now, and it’s just…difficult./”
“/He sounds way too overprotective, to me. Well, if you ever need a break, you
can always come crash in my dorm. We’ve got a little futon sofa you’re welcome
to use any time. I’m sure my roommate won’t mind./”
Jimin smiled at him as he attached his name tag and headed toward the door. “/
Thanks, but I doubt I’ll need it./”
By the end of Jimin’s shift, he had decided that when he got home, he would
talk to Yoongi. They could talk things out like the mature adults they were.
 
It didn’t exactly go as planned.
Maybe having a serious discussion about their problems directly after they had
both finished up long days at unwanted jobs wasn’t the best idea. It didn’t
take long for Jimin to realize that Yoongi had had a hard day of difficult
customers, but by that point it was too late to back down.
“We need to talk,” Jimin said the second Yoongi walked in the door much later.
He’d had to stay late to cover the beginning of someone’s shift when they
didn’t show up on time. He’d texted Jimin to let him know he’d be late as soon
as he found out.
Yoongi glanced up at him as he took his shoes off, frowning. “Can it wait a
minute? I need to piss. I had to escape that hell hole before they asked me to
take another order.”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “Fine, go ahead.” He settled himself down on one of the
kitchen stools, knowing that Yoongi would probably head straight to the kitchen
after he left the bathroom. He was right.
“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Yoongi asked, as he reached into the
fridge to pull out a Tupperware container of leftovers and a can of beer. He
popped it open as he dumped half the contents of the container onto a plate and
shoved it into the microwave. He quickly sipped the foam from the lip of the
can before it could overflow.
Jimin bit his lip. He didn’t know where to start. He’d thought through the
entire conversation, guessing what Yoongi would say, what he would respond
with…but now that it was right before him, Jimin didn’t know what to say.
“This is about yesterday, isn’t it?” Yoongi asked, looking him hard in the
face.
Jimin nodded, and then mentally kicked himself. “Yes,” he said, trying to not
sound so weak.
“You know why it was risky, right?”
“Yes, I know, but I was careful! I can’t, I can’t just hide forever, Yoongi.”
“Of course not. But—”
“But I feel like I can’t do anything anymore without someone fucking holding my
hand,” Jimin burst out suddenly, forgetting all about his intention to do this
with a level head. “Everywhere I go, I always have to be with someone! I feel
like, like a goddamn baby! I don’t want people holding my hand all the time!”
“I’m not holding your hand all the time,” Yoongi sighed, voice aggravatingly
calm. “I’m just worried about you. Things keep happening, and I’m trying to
keep you safe.”
“I just want to be normal,” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady. “But every
time you force me to be babysat by someone in public—”
“Wait, hold up; when have I ever forced you to do anything? And what do you
want me to do, then? Just let you get hurt?!”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!”
“Then what, Jimin? Explain it to me, because I don’t understand what I’m doing
wrong.”
Jimin stood up and kicked in his stool in frustration. “I hate this!” he
exclaimed. “I hate keeping secrets. I hate constantly fearing that someone will
find out about my past. And I hate feeling dependent on you!”
The room was deathly quiet, and Jimin clenched his fists so tightly that he was
sure his knuckles were white. He was breathing heavily. Yoongi was silent,
mouth slightly open. Jimin frowned and pushed himself away from the counter.
“Oh, and apparently you told Namjoon about me? When exactly did you have that
conversation? You didn’t even ask me if it was okay. Why would you do that?”
“I trust him. I’d trust Namjoon with my life. You can too. You know that.”
“That’s not the same. Just because you trust him doesn’t mean I wanted him to
know. When did you tell him?”
Yoongi frowned. His food lay forgotten on the counter. “I told him shortly
after BigHit offered me the job. He didn’t understand why I was going to so
much trouble to bring you with me out of the country when I’d only known you
for such a short time. So I told him. I didn’t tell him everything,” he added
quickly. “I just told him enough to know why it was so important to make it
possible for you to leave.”
“You didn’t even know if I wanted to leave. We weren’t even together at the
time. Why did you think it was okay to—”
“Even if we were just friends, I’d still do that for you, Jimin. It doesn’t
make a difference; I still would have gone to the same amount of trouble to
make sure you could be safe.”
“So it doesn’t make a difference whether we’re together? The only difference is
that now we fuck.”
“What? No! How did you even—” Yoongi put both of his hands to his head. “What
do you want me to say, Jimin? First you say you don’t like keeping secrets,
then you get on my case about telling Namjoon, when I only told him because
he’d start asking questions anyway, and come to his own conclusion, which, for
all we know, could have been even worse than what I ended up telling him. What
do you want me to fucking say?”
“I don’t want you to say anything! That’s not the fucking point!”
“What’s the point, then? I’m trying my best here, Jimin.”
Jimin could feel himself losing the argument. His mind was a mess, and he
couldn’t think straight. What did he want Yoongi to say? To acknowledge that he
was wrong? What was he wrong about? Everything Yoongi said made sense, but the
anger wouldn’t go away. Jimin felt so confused, and the last thing he wanted
was to start crying again in front of Yoongi. He needed to be stronger.
Yoongi had waited long enough for Jimin to speak, and when he didn’t show any
signs of responding, the older man continued. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re mad
at me because you wanted to let go for a bit, and I ruined the mood by pointing
out the riskiness of what you did. But I just don’t understand what you’re
trying to do, Jimin. You’re all buddy-buddy with Taehyung, practically attached
at the hip, but you don’t trust him enough to tell him? And then when he has a
fucking fantastic idea,” Yoongi’s voice was laced with icy sarcasm, “you don’t
even question it—”
“I did question—”
“—and you go and do something that will make you even more easily found by your
fucking lowlife, failure of a father—”
“I told you, I was careful! I had a mask and a hat and everything! Taehyung—”
“If Taehyung told you to go jump off the pier, would you do it?” Yoongi
interrupted, an abruptly unpleasant expression clouding his face. “If you like
him so much, why don’t you just go stay with him instead!”
“Maybe I will!” Jimin shouted back, reflexively. And then gasped. They were
both silent, identically shocked expressions plastered to their faces.
Jimin backed away, feeling the telltale sting in his eyes. “I need to go for a
run.”
Jimin didn’t need to grab anything. He already had everything in his pockets.
He shoved his feet into his sneakers and slammed the door behind him before
Yoongi could even call his name.
He ran faster than he ever had, feeling the bubble of pain edging its way up
through his chest. He slowed down once he reached the boardwalk again,
blissfully deserted. He sat down on a dark bench by the railing, and pulled out
his phone. Yoongi hadn’t tried contacting him. Jimin stared at his home screen
for several minutes before opening up his contacts. There were more names saved
now, but Taehyung’s name was still close to the top of the list.
‘is the sofa still available? can i stay at urs tonight?’ He jostled his leg
nervously as he waited for a reply.
He sent another text.
‘i really need some time away.’
His phone lit up as Taehyung replied.
‘yeah, of course. u ok?’
‘no. had a big fight w/ yoongi.’
 ‘come on over. text me when you get here.’
‘whats ur address? which dorm?’
Once he knew where to go, Jimin walked back to the apartment to get his bag. He
wasn’t in a hurry, and he dreaded Yoongi’s reaction to his decision.
Unfortunately, it started raining when he was ten minutes away, so he broke
back into a run, trying to keep the water out of his eyes.
He was dripping by the time he reached the apartment. He quietly opened the
door, hoping against all hope that Yoongi would be in the middle of something,
and too distracted to notice his presence. Of course that wasn’t the case.
Yoongi wasn’t waiting by the door like he had been before, and he wasn’t upset,
either. He was sitting at his work station, phone set carefully in front of
himself before his keyboard, and he looked up as Jimin entered.
“Do you feel better, now?” he asked calmly, not rudely, or in an antagonizing
way, but just asking a genuine question. His eyes flickered to the soaked state
of Jimin’s clothing and hair, and wordlessly got up to get a towel.
“No,” Jimin said flatly. He walked past Yoongi to grab his bag and start
gathering some of his things. He shrugged off the offered towel.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Yoongi?”
“Where are you going?” he changed his question.
“Taehyung’s.” He said it with more spite than he intended, but he pushed the
guilt down. He wasn’t going to feel bad about this. He needed to do something
on his own for once. “It’s not like I have anywhere else I can go.”
“Jimin, you don’t have to do this,” Yoongi protested, following him as he went
into the bathroom to get his toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Yes, I do. It was your idea, anyway,” he pointed out, even though Taehyung had
planted the idea into his head earlier that very day.
“I didn’t mean—” Yoongi touched his shoulder, and Jimin shrugged it off as he
walked toward the front door.
“Well, you said it; why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?” Jimin
retorted. He was at the door already, slipping on his shoes. He didn’t care if
he’d forgotten anything.
“Jimin, please. Don’t do this.” He grabbed Jimin’s arm, harder this time.
“Just let go of me!” Jimin tore his arm away, swinging his bag onto his
shoulder, and opened the door. He pushed his way past him and slammed the door
shut behind him. He ran through the rain toward the station.  He wasn’t going
to bother waiting for a bus. If he waited, he was sure Yoongi would come find
him.
His chest hurt. It wasn’t a physical pain, but it might as well have been. He
pressed Ignore each time his phone started to go off. By the time he reached
the entrance of Taehyung’s dorm, he was shaking from the effort it took to hold
himself together in public. So the second Taehyung came into sight, jumping
down the stairs to unlock the door, Jimin could feel himself breaking.
“/Whoa, whoa, it’s okay,/” Taehyung exclaimed, quickly throwing his arms around
him and pulling him inside, out of the rain.
Once they were upstairs in Taehyung’s dorm room, Jimin accepted the towel to
dry off before he sat down on his friend’s bed.
“/Do you want to talk about it?/” Taehyung asked him, sitting beside him and
rubbing his back as Jimin tried to hold back his tears.
“I, I can’t,” Jimin replied, hands over his face.
“Why not?”
“I just, I can’t. It’s…it’s—”
“Is Yoongi hurting you?” Taehyung asked lowly.
“No!” Jimin looked at him, startled. “No, he’d never—”
“/Then what is it? Jimin, you know you can tell me anything, right?/”
Jimin just shook his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. His phone started
ringing at that point, and he quickly turned it off, tossing it down on the
futon sofa across from Taehyung’s bed.
Taehyung sighed. “/Well, do you want to get changed out of your wet clothes at
least? I don’t want you getting sick./”
He showed Jimin where the shared bathroom was down the hall, and then went back
his room while Jimin changed. Jimin went into the handicapped stall, setting
his bag down on a clean section of the floor. He’d already changed into
sweatpants and was searching through the mess to find a shirt when he came
across something that wasn’t his. He pulled out the bright yellow shirt,
staring at it. He felt his eyes prickle, and he shakily brought the shirt to
his face. Yoongi. The scent overwhelmed him all at once, and he burst into
sobs, sinking to his knees. He clutched the shirt to his chest, unable to stop
crying.
He heard the bathroom door open and footsteps enter, but then abruptly turn
around and leave when whoever it was decided he didn’t want any part in dealing
with a crying person. Jimin choked on his sobs, and shoved the shirt deep into
his bag, hoping that getting it out of his sight would relieve some of his
pain, but it only made it worse. He started hiccupping and gasping for air,
clutching tightly at his bag.
He jumped when the door to the bathroom suddenly slammed open, and hurried
footsteps came into the bathroom.
“Jimin?” Taehyung called out. A second later he knocked on Jimin’s stall. “/
Jimin, unlock the door, please./”
Jimin blindly fumbled for the lock before finding it and sliding it open. A
pair of long arms wrapped themselves around him, making him feel very small,
curled up as he was, kneeling on the floor.
“/You’re still all wet,/” Taehyung noticed. He pulled out a shirt at random—not
the yellow one—and gently tugged at Jimin’s soaked shirt until he moved to help
him remove it. Taehyung quickly slipped the new, dry shirt over Jimin’s head
and guided his arms through the long sleeves. “/All right. Let’s go back to my
room and chill, okay?/”
Jimin nodded, sniffling around a hiccup.
When they reentered Taehyung’s room, there were two extra people inside. Jimin
suddenly felt self-conscious, and hurriedly wiped at his face, holding his
hands up to hide his flushed face and puffy, red-rimmed eyes.
“So it was Taehyung’s friend in the bathroom,” one of the guys said, leaning
back on the sofa, sipping from a red Solo cup of something most likely
alcoholic, if the bottles set up in a line on the floor were any indication.
Jimin felt humiliated, and couldn’t meet the other two boys’ eyes.
“Jimin,” Taehyung started, letting Jimin sit back down on his bed, “this guy
here is Mark, my next-door dorm mate, whose game plan is to stay in university
forever—”
“Oh, shut, up, that’s only because I was in Paraguay and Brazil for a while.”
“—and over there is my roommate, Jungkook. He’s a cute little freshman, so you
can boss him around all you want.”
“Hi,” Jungkook said quietly, not even bothered by Taehyung’s comment. “Are you
okay? I heard you in the bathroom just now.”
Jimin shrugged non-committedly, but nodded to both boys. “Nice to meet you. I’m
Jimin. I uh, I work with Taehyung.” It was easier to hold himself in check with
two strangers present.
Mark, who was very handsome in a laid back way, was also Asian, but Jimin
didn’t think he was Korean. He also had a very American accent. Jimin wasn’t
about to ask, though. Jungkook, on the other hand, was obviously Korean. But
unlike Taehyung, he had very little accent when speaking in English, although
there was still a little bit of a Korean inflection to a few of his words.
“Oh, hey!” Taehyung said suddenly, startling Jimin from his thoughts, “didn’t
you tell me once that you were born in Busan?”
Jimin frowned slightly at the randomness of the question. “Maybe? Why?”
“Jungkook is from Busan, too! He’s studying here for all four years, though.
Not just for study abroad like me.”
“You’re from Busan?” Jungkook leaned forward. “Which part?”
Jimin shifted nervously. “I don’t know. I don’t remember it at all. I was, um,
adopted when I was little.”
Jungkook sat back. “Oh.”
“You were adopted as a baby?” This time it was Mark asking.
Jimin didn’t like all of the questions he was getting, even though he knew they
were harmless. “No, I—it’s, it’s kind of complicated,” he amended.
Luckily they got the hint, and the conversation moved onto other topics.
Not much later, Mark reached for the sleeve of cups. “All right, I’m not going
to be the only one drinking, here,” he announced. “Taehyung, I know I can’t get
you to drink. What about you, Jimin? You want some?”
“He’s not old enou—”
“Shut up, Tae, he can answer for himself.”
Jimin looked at the cup in Mark’s hand. He knew it probably wasn’t a good idea,
but it’s not like Yoongi was here to stop him as usual.
“Sure. I’ll have some, thanks.”
“Jimin! You really shouldn’t,” Taehyung protested.
“I’ll have some, too,” Jungkook spoke up. “Not much, though.”
“Ugh, you, too, Jungkook?”
“What? It’s not his first time drinking,” Mark pointed out. “Just because this
country doesn’t think he’s old enough to drink doesn’t mean he can’t. He’d be
legal in Brazil.”
Mark was light on the alcohol when he mixed their drinks, and Jimin welcomed
the faint warmth that spread through his body after the first several swallows.
He could feel his worries and pain floating to the back of his mind, and soon
he was laughing and joking with the others as if he’d not just had a terrible
night.
Of course, the happy warmth didn’t last long. It soon turned into a sharp burn
down his throat as the alcohol increased with the decrease of Mark’s judgement
skills whenever he refilled cups. Jimin’s attitude shifted from childishly
giddy to sad and quiet, and he pulled his bag across the floor to rummage
through it until he found the yellow shirt. He curled up into a ball at the
foot of Taehyung’s bed, holding the shirt as if it was a precious stuffed
animal or blanket.
“Okay guys, I think it’s time to call it a night,” Taehyung said loudly,
standing up and grabbing Mark’s arm. “Out, out, out.”
Jimin vaguely heard the door open and close, and then Taehyung came back into
the room.
“/Jungkookie, time for bed. Ugh. Why are you so heavy?/”
Jimin cracked his eyes open to watch Taehyung struggle to move the half-asleep
form of his roommate from the sofa, half-dragging, half-pushing him over to his
bed on the other side of the room. With a loud groan, Taehyung managed to shove
Jungkook into bed and throw the blankets over his fully-clothed body.
“/I didn’t sign up for this babysitting job. Seriously./” A second later a
shadow fell over Jimin’s face. “/You too. You’re not sleeping in my bed./”
It didn’t take long for Jimin to fall asleep, despite the cheap futon sofa not
being the most comfortable of sleeping locations. Even with Jimin’s small
height, his feet hung off the end, and the metal bar supporting the center of
the sofa bed dug into his back. He lingered somewhere between asleep and awake,
quickly falling into confusing dreams.
It was dark, with flashes of light here and there, dancing bodies all around
him. He was alone. There were hands on him, pressing, invasive, suffocating.
Pulling at his clothes.
A familiar and unwelcome voice whispered in his ear, “I knew you’d come back.
You have no place to go.”
“Whore.”
“Slut.”
“You’re damaged goods.”
Hands pushed and shoved him.
His clothes were torn. He tried to hold the pieces together.
He was shoved into the throngs of people. A new hand grabbed him. He fell
against Yoongi’s chest.
The rapper wasn’t smiling. “Why are you always so much trouble? Why don’t you
ever listen to me?”
He was wrenched away from Jimin by another hand. Jimin watched as Yoongi fell
into the crowd. He watched as Chris crouched over him and squeezed Yoongi’s
throat.
“I don’t know why I bother,” Yoongi said, face turning purple, but still able
to speak despite being strangled, eyes on Jimin. “You’re not worth it.”
Chris lifted Yoongi’s long switchblade high above his head and then plunged it
into Yoongi’s chest.
“You were never worth it.”
Jimin woke himself up with a cry, loud, anguished sobs wrenched from his
exhausted body. He could barely breathe. He leaned over the side of the sofa
and threw up.
He barely registered the frenzy of activity around him as the lights flickered
on and blinded him, as furniture was pushed around, as he was pushed up into a
sitting position, and warm hands held his face up as a scratchy paper towel
wiped at his mouth and chin.
“/Where’s his phone?/”
“/I don’t know. Is it on the floor somewhere?/”
“/Here it is./”
“/Shit, he’s got a ton of missed calls and texts./”
“/From his boyfriend?/”
“/Yeah. I’m not touching them, don’t worry. I just need to get his number./”
The door clicked open and shut, and then it was silent. Jimin whimpered and
shivered abruptly, although not because he was cold.
“It’s okay, you’re all right,” Jungkook said, patting Jimin’s back and
switching to English. He seemed to realize Jimin felt more comfortable with it.
“It’s just a dream.”
Jimin could barely hold himself up, so he just leaned limply against Jungkook’s
side as he shook with muffled sobs. He felt his stomach lurch again, and he
fell forward with a grunt, throwing up into the waste basket that was quickly
shoved into his hands.
Taehyung came back into the room after several minutes, putting his phone back
into his pocket.
“Jimin?” Taehyung came over and knelt before Jimin. He picked up the discarded
paper towel roll and tore a sheet off, gently wiping at Jimin’s face again.
“Yoongi-hyung’s coming in the morning to pick you up, okay?”
Jimin shook his head. “No. He doesn’t want me anymore.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“He can’t love a whore like me.”
“Whoa, what? Jimin—/Jungkook, can you, uh, can you go take a walk or
something?/”
Jimin felt the sofa shift as Jungkook stood up.
“/Yeah, sure./”
“/Sorry, I just don’t think—/”
“/No, it’s fine. Text me when it’s okay to come back./”
“/Thanks./”
Taehyung waited until the door clicked shut, and then he took both of Jimin’s
shoulders in his hands.
“Okay, Jimin, what are you talking about?”
Chapter End Notes
     I'm so sorry! This was a really difficult chapter for me to write. I
     hate fights in all manner of speaking, and just the idea of Yoonmin
     fighting makes me squirm in displeasure. I just want to grab them up
     and cuddle them together.
     Oh! And Jungkook made his appearance, finally! (Yes, those WERE his
     infamous speaker that made an appearance in the last chapter. ;) )
     Side note: I know Mark Tuan (GOT7, if you didn't know) in real life
     doesn’t like alcohol, but too many of V’s friends don’t drink
     alcohol. I started noticing this trend when I was looking it up. But
     in the end I decided to use him as the friend because he's already
     from L.A. (not saying that's where this takes place, though), and his
     background fit into the scene well. Also, please don't see him as a
     bad guy here. He's just a typical college kid. He didn't force
     alcohol on anyone; he simply offered.
     Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to comment! And thank you so
     much for all of the kudos lately! I'm amazed every time I see that
     number go up. <3
***** Chapter XV *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm so sorry for the long wait!
     The story is very close to the end (just a couple more chapters), and
     I want to make sure it all ties up nicely, so....yeah. Here's a very
     long chapter for your reading pleasure.
     Two songs I listened to (often on repeat) while writing:
     The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds & Transformation
     https://youtu.be/MqoANESQ4cQ
     Yonezu Kenshi (Feat. Suda Masaki) - 'Gray and Blue' https://youtu.be/
     gJX2iy6nhHc
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XV.
Jimin looked Taehyung in the eyes silently for a while before he lowered his
gaze to his lap.
"I don't know where to start, so I'll just..." He trailed off. "Can you promise
me that you won't be disgusted? Or, or hate me? I don't want you to hate me.
You’re my only friend, and I don’t want to lose you, too."
Taehyung’s grip tightened on his shoulders. "You’re not going to lose me,
Jimin. I promise."
Jimin tried to remember how easy it had been to tell Yoongi all of this. At the
time, he still was of the mentality that it was just the lot he’d been given in
life, and there was no point in making a big deal out of it. He took a breath,
trying to put himself back into that mindset. He had been strong, then. He
could be strong again. He’d gotten too soft with Yoongi. He needed to build his
armor up again; the armor that kept him sane over the past couple of years. He
took a deep breath.
“I need to do this in English, is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s okay.”
"Over the last two years, I've been forced to have sex on camera, for a porn
website." He really didn’t want to see Taehyung’s expression, but he made
himself glance up momentarily. Taehyung was listening, that much was for sure,
but his face was clear of any noticeable reaction. Jimin lowered his eyes
again, fidgeting.
“You know how I said I was adopted? Well, I was happy for a while, but then my
parents split up when I was a teenager. I was left with my d-dad.” He was
startled by the sudden onslaught of emotion when he spoke the word. “He—” Jimin
swallowed in a tight throat, “he took me out of school when I was seventeen,
and then he forced me to become a camboy.”
Taehyung made a movement finally. “Sorry, what’s a camboy?” He looked
uncomfortable, but it seemed like it was more because of the language barrier.
“It’s someone who, um, basically they get off in front of the camera, for an
audience. Like…you know…masturbating?”
“Ah,” recognition crossed Taehyung’s features momentarily, only to be replaced
by a darker look, and clenched white knuckles where his hands rested in his
lap.
“Yeah, so, I did that for a year. It…it wasn’t that bad, honestly. Just
awkward. And I lost all of my friends when my—when Chris basically held me
hostage.”
“Chris?”
“Yeah, that’s, that’s my adopted father’s name.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, he kept me locked up whenever he wasn’t around, and took away all
communication between me and my friends. But when I turned eighteen, he started
forcing me to make porn with other men.” This was where Jimin couldn’t bring
himself to look at Taehyung. “I didn’t think of it this way after a while, but
I was pretty much raped on a regular basis. The first several times definitely
felt like that, but then I became desensitized to the whole situation.”
He startled when one of Taehyung’s hands took his own, pulling it away from
where he’d been twisting his fingers together nervously.
“How did you get out? You got out, right?”
“Yeah.” Jimin nodded. “Yoongi saved me.”
“What?”
“We met by chance, one morning at the coffee shop where he works, when I was in
really bad condition. He was concerned, and secretly gave me a way to contact
him. Eventually he came to rescue me, and…that’s where I am now.” He left out
the part about getting recaptured. Taehyung didn’t need to know to understand
his situation.
It was quiet for a moment, and then Taehyung spoke up. “Jimin, did something
happen that night at the Korean event?”
Jimin couldn’t help the flinch that tore through him. Of course Taehyung had
noticed. How could he have not? Jimin was acting strange for the entire second
half of the evening.
“Y-yeah. I was, uhm…I was molested in the bathroom.”
“Why didn’t you say—”
“I didn’t want you to know. It was nice having a friend who thought I was
normal. I didn’t want you to treat me differently. Sometimes…sometimes it feels
like Yoongi is always walking on eggshells around me.”
“Eggshells—what?”
Jimin smiled slightly. “It’s an expression. It just means he acts like he has
to be really careful around me. Although…I guess lately his brain-to-mouth
filter hasn’t been the best.”
Taehyung frowned even more. “Jimin…do you, don’t get mad, but…do you just think
you’re in love with Yoongi because he saved you from that bad situation?”
Jimin went quiet. He tried to think about Yoongi, separating him from the
rescue. If he had met Yoongi under any other circumstance, would he feel
differently?
“No,” he whispered. “No, I love him. I love Yoongi.” His voice choked up, and
he cried. Once the tears started, he couldn’t stop them. He shook as he sobbed,
and Taehyung scooted over so he could fold him into his arms, letting Jimin cry
into his shoulder.
“I love him so much, Taehyung. And it hurts.”
 
Jimin eventually fell asleep again from exhaustion, blankets piled up all
around him to keep him warm in their drafty dorm room. When he woke up, someone
was sitting on the edge of the sofa, their back pressed up against his stomach
where he was curled up. The person’s hand was resting on Jimin’s back between
his shoulder blades, sliding back and forth slowly. Up…two, three, down…two,
three, and back to be repeated again. Like they didn’t want to wake him, but
wanted to give him a sense of calmness.
It was blissfully quiet in the dorm room, and it took Jimin a moment to wonder
at Taehyung’s ability to stay completely silent for so long.
The hand on his back paused, and then stopped moving, other than the thumb
stroking back and forth against his spine. Jimin took this moment to flick his
eyes open, looking up at the person sitting beside him. It wasn’t Taehyung. It
was Yoongi.
Jimin frowned. Was he still asleep? Yoongi wasn’t looking at him; he was
looking at his phone, scrolling through whatever it was he was reading.
No. It couldn’t be a dream. It was too real. Jimin didn’t move, looking over at
Taehyung’s empty bed. Jimin could now tell that no one else was in the room.
Unless Jungook and Taehyung were standing completely still and holding their
breaths—which would be creepy as fuck, Jimin thought—they definitely weren’t in
the dorm room. As this fact registered, and he became fully aware that this
was, in fact, not a dream, Jimin gasped and tried to scramble back away from
him in panic, but all he ended up doing was kneeing Yoongi in the hip and
getting tangled in the blankets.
“Ow, fuck. Jimin, calm down. It’s just me.” Yoongi grimaced, but shifted so he
was a little farther away, sitting only halfway on the sofa.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Taehyung and his roommate?”
“They’re down at breakfast. Taehyung thought it would be best if you and I were
able to talk in private. I agreed.”
“Oh.”
As Jimin’s brain woke up more, the events of the previous night trickled back
to him. He looked at Yoongi, biting his lip slightly.
“Are you…still mad at me?” Jimin asked, and got a very confused look in return.
“What? I thought you were the one mad at me? I’m not mad at you, Jimin.”
“Oh, right.” Jimin shook his head, feeling confused. “Sorry, I’m still…I’m
trying to wake up,” he groaned. His throat felt raw, and his tongue felt like
it was covered in dry fuzz. His head hurt. He made a face. “Is there water
somewhere? I’m so thirsty.”
Yoongi got up and checked the mini fridge. There were several bottles of water
inside, so he took one out and handed it to Jimin, who twisted it open and
promptly guzzled the entire thing. The cold water sloshed a little
uncomfortably in his stomach, but he knew it would make him feel better soon.
“Whoa, why are you so dehydrated? Did you not drink anything last night at
all?”
“I drank plenty,” Jimin shrugged. “Just not water.”
“What?” Yoongi took the empty bottle back, and set it on top of the fridge.
“Don’t tell me you—”
“I’m not a baby,” Jimin sighed. “I can drink if I want to. And we’ll be in
Korea soon anyway, where I’m of age—”
“You still want to come with me?”
Jimin looked up at the unexpected amount of emotion poured into that sentence.
It was as if Yoongi couldn’t believe it, like he was afraid that Jimin would
tell him no, that Jimin hated him and didn’t want to see him ever again.
“I…yes?” Jimin’s voice came out small, nearly breathless. There was an
uncomfortable pause, and then Jimin couldn’t help it when he reached out to
pull on Yoongi’s arm. "I know I shouldn't ask for this, but...will you hold
me?" 
"Of course." Yoongi sat back down beside him and pulled him flush against him,
cushioning his head on his shoulder.
Jimin let out a shuddering sigh and pressed close. It felt so good.
"I missed you," Yoongi murmured. He bent his head down to drop a soft kiss on
Jimin's forehead.
"I did too." 
"But we still need to talk."
"Can we talk like this?" Jimin felt a little embarrassed by how needy he
probably sounded, especially since coddling was exactly what he was trying to
prove he didn’t need, but luckily Yoongi didn't seem to mind.
"Sure." There was silence for a moment before Yoongi spoke again. "I think I
need to apologize, but I want to make sure I'm apologizing for the right
thing."
"Okay. What do you want to apologize for?" 
"I don't mean to smother you. I realize that it seems that way. I really don't.
I just...I worry about you too much. I don't know if you know this, but every
time you get hurt, it terrifies me."
He frowned. "What are you scared of?"
"Losing you. Not...just physically, but mentally."
"What? What do you mean?" Was Yoongi implying that he thought Jimin would go
crazy?
"I've read about people who have gone through similar situations to yours, and
some—not all, of course—end up living their lives as if they're just going
through the motions. On the outside, it's like they're completely fine, but on
the inside.... They stop caring about things, because they cope better when
they desensitize themselves. You used to be like that, I could tell. And I'm so
scared that you're going to go back to it. That you're going to stay with me
just because it's easiest, and not because you want to." 
He stopped and took a breath. Jimin took advantage of the silence to speak up. 
"You're...not wrong, but you're not quite right, either. It has been a little
stifling with you lately. I understand where you're coming from, I do; but I
wish you would trust me more. Trust in my own strength, and in my ability to
make the right decisions on my own. I need to grow up; we both know that. But I
won't ever grow up if you don't give me a chance."
"I know. I’m sorry."
 "And I want to be with you. I really do. Yoongi, I," he paused, swallowing. "I
love you so much it hurts sometimes. Because I can't tell if you are just
taking care of me because you pity me—"
"That's definitely not it," Yoongi broke in. “That’s definitely—I don’t pity
you. I know I’m not very good at showing what I’m thinking—”
Jimin huffed a laugh against his shirt. “You’re really not.”
“But just because I’m not vocal about it doesn’t mean I care any less about
you. And—god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—last night I couldn't sleep,
I was so scared. I know it’s fucking idiotic of me to feel this way, but I just
can’t help but worry that…that Taehyung’s going to steal you away from me. You
already like him so much, and I just couldn’t help but fear that you would stop
loving me and, and turn to him instead. In a way, you did just that.”
Jimin remembered how Yoongi had blown up the previous night when Taehyung had
come up in their argument, but he hadn’t realized how much Yoongi truly
believed that Jimin would feel that way.
“No, Yoongi, I couldn’t…Taehyung’s my friend. I care about him like a brother,
but no more than that. And besides,” he added with a slight smile, “he’s
straight, anyway. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“That doesn’t stop you from falling in love with him,” Yoongi pointed out.
“Just because he’s straight doesn’t mean—”
“Ugh, just stop, Yoongi,” Jimin half laughed, have groaned, shoving lightly at
him. “I don’t even want to think of him in that way. I only want you.”
“Good. Because I only want you.”
Jimin felt fingers on his chin, and he looked up to see Yoongi gazing down
warmly at him.
“I hate fighting with you. Can we please stop fighting now? Let’s just promise
to listen to each other from now on.”
Jimin nodded. Then he straightened up until they were eye to eye.
They both moved forward at the same moment, and Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut as
their lips met. He lifted his arms to wrap them around the back of Yoongi’s
neck, burying his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and pushing him closer. The
musician’s hands were on his waist, holding him steady. Jimin tilted his head
slightly to get a better angle, breathing shallowly through his nose so he
wouldn’t have to break the kiss. He still felt a little light-headed, though,
and gave a huge start, accidently biting Yoongi’s lip when Taehyung’s loud
voice broke through the silence.
“/I guess you two made up?/”
“Fuck!” Yoongi swore, putting a hand to his lip, where he was bleeding
slightly. “/Taehyung-ah! Couldn’t you have knocked?/”
Jimin turned to gape at Taehyung and Jungkook. He felt his cheeks heat up in
embarrassment. Taehyung looked halfway between amused and annoyed. Jungkook
just looked uncomfortable, avoiding making eye contact as he sat down at his
computer.
“/We did. Even though it’s our room and we shouldn’t have to. Anyway, we
smuggled out muffins and coffee from the dining commons for you two. Be
grateful./”
Yoongi took the proffered coffee with a gruff “Thanks,” and Jimin took the two
blueberry muffins with a shy smile. He handed one to Yoongi once he’d taken a
long sip from his cup and settled back onto the sofa.
“/So, did you?/” Taehyung pressed. “/Or are you still fighting?/”
Jimin could feel Yoongi’s eyes on him, so he turned slightly to face him.
“Are we good now?” the older man asked. “What do you say?”
Jimin tried to fight the wide smile from spreading across his face. He felt
embarrassed talking about this in front of the other two. “You know,” he said
quietly instead, hoping Yoongi could make the connection to what he was trying
to indicate.
Luckily Yoongi was a smart man. A pleased grin made its way onto his lips, and
he ruffled Jimin’s hair. “I know,” he agreed.
“/Ugh, this is sickening,/” Taehyung teased, but then sobered up. “/But I’m
glad you guys are okay now. No more fighting from now on. Understand?/”
“/Yes, Mom,/” both Jimin and Yoongi responded simultaneously, laughing.
 
It felt good to step back into Yoongi’s apartment, despite how empty it had
been feeling lately as his belongings disappeared bit by bit. There really
wasn’t that much left, other than the essentials for everyday living, plus his
music equipment.
“God I’m wiped out,” Yoongi grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter. “I
think I’m just going to sleep the rest of the day away.”
Jimin laughed. “That actually sounds wonderful. Can I join you?”
“Be my guest.”
Jimin took a quick shower and brushed his teeth just so he wouldn’t feel
disgusting, and then climbed up into the loft to slip under the blankets beside
Yoongi. Who was already fast asleep. Jimin took the opportunity to snuggle up
close, lightly kissing Yoongi’s cheek and combing his fingers through his
slightly course blond hair.
Jimin leaned up until his mouth was right next to Yoongi’s ear.
“Saranghae,” he whispered, keep his voice just barely audible. But Yoongi’s
lips quirked into a slight smile.
Maybe he wasn’t as deeply asleep as Jimin had thought. He felt a hand on his
waist, drawing him closer. Jimin shifted so he was half-lying over Yoongi,
propped up on his elbows. Yoongi’s eyes were still closed when Jimin leaned
down to kiss him on the lips, but Yoongi opened his mouth to sleepily respond.
The kiss slowly deepened, and Jimin felt himself starting to harden. He grinded
his hips down slowly, and Yoongi’s eyes flickered open.
“Is this okay?” Jimin asked, pausing and drawing back slightly.
Yoongi reached up to card his fingers through Jimin’s bangs and hold his cheek.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m just…tired,” he half laughed, more air than sound
coming out. “I told you, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
Jimin bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”
Yoongi shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I know you had a hard night, too. I
talked to Taehyung for quite a while on the phone early this morning.” He
pulled Jimin down for another kiss.
Soon they had rid themselves of their clothes and were moving softly together.
Yoongi lay back with his eyes partially open as Jimin twisted his hand around
his dick, slippery with lube. He took a shuddering breath when Jimin dipped
down to suck at his nipples and lick at his ribs. Jimin noticed that more and
more pre-cum was starting to leak from Yoongi’s dick, so he pulled away,
sitting back on his heels. Yoongi frowned slightly and refocused his eyes on
him.
Jimin knew Yoongi’s eyes were following his hands as they squirted some more
lube onto his fingers. Jimin’s mouth dropped open in a near-silent cry as he
pushed his fingers into himself. He twisted his hand and scissored his fingers
inside as his breathing grew heavier.
“Jimin.”
He opened his eyes, not realizing that they had fallen shut, and looked down at
Yoongi as he fingered himself. Yoongi was staring up at him with an expression
so filled with love that Jimin practically couldn’t stand it. He felt warm all
over, and suddenly he couldn’t fight the wide smile that spread across his
face. He pulled his fingers out so he could support himself when he leaned down
to capture Yoongi’s lips again.
 “I know I said that you could stay with me just until you got back on your
feet in Seoul, but…even after you do, will you stay with me?” Yoongi asked him
when they paused for a moment. “Being apart from you just feels wrong.”
“Of course.” Jimin licked into Yoongi’s mouth, sucking his tongue into his own.
He was feeling a little faint from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t want to stop.
He tugged Yoongi weakly, trying to shift their positions. Luckily Yoongi got
the idea and in one smooth movement flipped them so that he was lying on top of
Jimin instead.
“Oh, I like this so much better,” Jimin mumbled against his lips.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.” He tugged Yoongi back down. “I feel so…good…under you like this.” He
gasped loudly when Yoongi suddenly pushed his legs apart and grinded his hips
against him, cock rubbing hard against Jimin’s entrance but sliding right past.
“Wait. I want you to fuck my mouth.”
Yoongi groaned. “You know what I said about you talking like that, Jimin.”
“What, does it turn you on?”
“Shut up, oh my god.” Yoongi pushed Jimin down lower on the mattress so that he
could brace himself on the wall and hopefully not hurt Jimin if gravity hit
him.
Jimin pulled Yoongi’s hips down until his cock was hovering above his mouth. It
was leaking pre-cum again, and Jimin’s heartrate picked up as arousal shot
through him at the sight. He leaned up and flicked his tongue gently against
the tip, lapping up the milky white liquid as if he was a kitten. Yoongi let
out a low groan, and Jimin smiled.
“Don’t come just yet, love,” he teased. I want it all inside me.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi warned, eliciting a laugh from the younger man. “Just fucking
get on with it, you—ohhugh.” He broke off with a breathy sound as Jimin took
the end of his dick between his lips and hummed. He bucked his hips, nearly
choking Jimin, and earned a light pinch between his thighs.
“Nah yeh,” Jimin said around his cock, and Jimin knew the feeling of teeth
brushing against his skin was the reason Yoongi started shuddering. He pulled
off momentarily. “Not yet,” he repeated. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait
too long.”
A little later, just as Jimin felt Yoongi’s muscles tensing up, he pushed him
away. Yoongi gave a full-body shudder and groaned in frustration. “Are you
serious?”
Jimin couldn’t help the soft giggle that bubbled past his lips.
“Go ahead and fuck me, Yoongi.”
“God I don’t know why I—”
Yoongi cut himself off as he quickly moved down and pushed himself deep into
Jimin’s ready hole. They both let out low moans, and Jimin arched his back,
spreading his thighs more to get a better angle as Yoongi thrust into him. It
felt so, so good, but—
“Yoongi, will you be a little rougher?”
“Rougher?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to break. I really want to feel it all.”
Yoongi pushed Jimin’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He huffed a laugh. “Okay, uh…just let me know if I do something wrong. I don’t
usually—”
“Just let yourself go, Yoongi. I can tell you’re holding yourself back. I can
tell you’re trying to be gentle with me. Don’t be. I don’t think you realize
how strong I am.”
“I’m not going to uh, hit you or anything like that,” Yoongi looked very
uncomfortable, and a little sick at the idea.
Jimin laughed, just to put him more at ease. “Good. That’s not what I was
asking for anyway. I’m not that kinky.”
Yoongi stared into his eyes for a moment, and then swooped down to steal a wet
kiss. His mouth moved to Jimin’s neck almost immediately, but then he leaned a
little back as he reached down to fold Jimin’s legs up. He began fucking in
hard and fast, pulling Jimin up close to suck at his skin. Jimin was sure there
would be dark marks in the morning, and for the first time in his life he was
very much pleased with that knowledge.
Yoongi’s hand was tight around his dick, jerking him off in tandem with his
thrusts. Jimin could feel himself getting close, but he didn’t want to come
yet. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought against his climax, his mouth
dropping open as he cried out with each push of Yoongi’s hips. The musician
suddenly changed angles so that he constantly hit his insides just right, and
finally Jimin couldn’t prevent it anymore. He came with a long moan.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he begged, gasping around each hot, slippery splash
onto his stomach and chest. The pleasure was overwhelming, high mewling sounds
escaping from his throat with every single thrust. Abruptly his voice went even
higher, catching slightly, and he dry orgasmed. Yoongi came inside him
immediately after, and collapsed on top of him after a moment of complete
silence.
They were both covered in sweat despite the chilly air, breathing heavily.
Yoongi made a movement to pull out, but his arms gave out, so he just lay there
and kissed Jimin deeply and somewhat sloppily for several minutes. Jimin
circled his hips and moaned long and low, deep in his throat, causing Yoongi to
involuntarily jerk his hips when he was hit by an aftershock. They both gasped
at the overstimulation.
“W’should…clean up,” Yoongi mumbled slowly into the space between Jimin’s neck
and the pillow. But he made no movement to get up, and a minute later Jimin
realized he’d fallen asleep. Jimin smothered a laugh and somehow managed to
shift enough to separate their lower halves and catch hold of the tissues to
the side of the mattress. It would be enough until whenever they woke back up,
probably later in the afternoon.
 
The days following flew by. They bought their plane tickets the very day that
Jimin’s visa finally arrived; they’d be flying out on the twenty-second of
December so that they would hopefully avoid spending Christmas exhausted from
jet lag. Jimin resumed studying Korean with more determination than ever, not
only practicing with his coworkers, but also properly working on reading and
writing, taking notes on the words and grammar he struggled the most with.
One day not long after Thanksgiving had come and gone (an evening spent happily
eating with Yoongi’s family until Jimin didn’t think he could fit another bite
into his stomach), Jimin sat at the kitchen counter, hunched over his notebook
and flicking through textbook pages on Yoongi’s tablet. He was skimming through
his Korean notes when he realized it was getting close to dinner time. Yoongi
wasn't back from the coffee shop yet, though. It was a good forty minutes past
his usual time to get home.
Jimin pulled out his phone.
'R u at the store?'
He waited ten minutes, without a reply. Maybe Yoongi just hadn't heard it. He
usually kept it on silent, or on vibrate while on shifts. Maybe he’d forgotten
to turn the sound back on. Jimin picked up the phone again and hit Call. It
rang, and rang, before going to voicemail. Jimin hung up. He tried again. Same
thing. He left a message this time.
"Hey, Yoongi, maybe you're driving right now, I dunno. Just wanted to check
when you expect to get home. Should I eat without you?"
Another hour passed. He tried again.
"It's me again. Did you say you were doing something after work, and I just
forgot? I'm starting to get a little worried. Please call me. Love you."
Three hours after Yoongi should have been home, Jimin couldn't stand it
anymore. He grabbed his jacket, key and wallet, and held his phone to his ear
as he walked out the door.
'The number you have reached is out of service. Please try again later.'
He swore, and hung up. 
"Yoongi, where are you?" he asked the brisk autumn air as he typed and sent
similar sentiments: ‘where r u????? ur scaring me. PLEASE call me’
He headed toward the grocery store, planning on getting something to eat,
hoping to cross paths with Yoongi on his way home.
He was about to cross the street when his phone went off, startling him. He
glanced down at the caller ID. It was Yoongi. Jimin quickly hit the green
button to answer the call.
“Yoongi? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Where have you been?”
“Jimin-ah.” It wasn’t Yoongi. It was his dad. He sounded tired.
“Mr. Min?” He heard a sigh on the other side of the line.
“Jimin, Yoongi’s been in an accident.” Jimin’s blood ran cold. He stopped
walking.
“What?”
“Don’t worry, he’s…okay. He’ll be fine,” he assured him, but he couldn’t help
but assume Mr. Min was lying to him.
“What happened? Where is he?”
“He got hit on his scooter on the way home from work. We’re at the hospital
now. They’re still checking him right now, but his shoulder is in bad shape.”
Jimin realized he’d been too quiet when he spoke again a moment later. “Jimin-
ah? Are you there?”
“Y-yeah, I’m still here.”
“Jimin, I think he’d like it if you were here. He’s not saying it directly, but
I know my son.”
Jimin nodded, even though he couldn’t see him. “I’m on my way to the metro
right now, Mr. Min. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Jimin.” There were a few seconds of silence, and then, “I know what
you mean to him. And I know he needs you right now.”
Jimin almost stopped walking again, if it weren’t for his hurry. Yoongi hadn’t
told his parents about them yet. Jimin knew it was because Yoongi didn’t expect
them to be supportive, knowing they could be very traditional sometimes. But
here Mr. Min was, admitting that not only did he know, but that he understood
how necessary it was for Jimin to be with Yoongi at this moment.
“I, I’m on my way,” was all Jimin could manage with his suddenly choked up
throat. He hung up, not even bothering to put his phone away, choosing to
clutch it tightly in his fist as he burst into a sprint toward the closest
metro station.
Chapter End Notes
     ((hides))
     Haven't you noticed a lot of similarities between BTS members' lives
     and their lives in this story? Yeah? Well...yep. That happened. Don't
     pretend you're that surprised I would include it.
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment!
***** Chapter XVI *****
Chapter Notes
     I fucking love the G.C.F in Tokyo video Jungkook made. I listened to
     it over and over (and watched it multiple times) while writing a
     bunch of this chapter. The lyrics kind of fit the chapter, too, lol.
     I've loved Troye Sivan for ages (long before I even knew who BTS
     was), so it's really cool seeing how Jungkook likes his music as
     well. (Can you imagine how awesome it'd be if they did a collab with
     Troye? Ugh. That'd be the best. And he's almost the same age as
     Jimin, too.)
     Anyway, not much to say this time around. Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XVI.
 
Yoongi was asleep, doped up on painkillers, when Jimin arrived at the hospital
twenty minutes later. He was propped up and bandaged heavily on one side. His
face was ashen. Had it always been so pale? Or was that just because of his
recently dyed-to-brown hair? His face was strangely free of any bruises or
cuts, although Jimin thought he could see a smudge of red below his ear on the
same side as his bandaged shoulder.
Yoongi's mother stood up to hug him when he came closer to the bed. Jimin
pulled free and went to Yoongi’s side, the one opposite his injuries.
“Yoongi,” he breathed, voice catching. He hesitatingly reached out to touch his
bangs, but withdrew his hand just before he could touch him. Yoongi looked so
lifeless.
“What happened?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of the sleeping figure.
“Someone ran a red light and sideswiped him,” Yoongi’s father answered. Jimin
hadn’t noticed him come into the room, carrying a cup of steaming coffee. “The
car didn’t even stop, so the police are still trying to locate the driver.
According to witnesses, he was pushed into oncoming traffic and thrown from his
scooter when he hit another vehicle. His scooter was crushed. The doctors say
his helmet saved his life. He was unconscious when the ambulance arrived, but
luckily he woke up just before they got to the hospital."
"He's already been in and out of surgery," Mrs. Min added. "The anaesthesia
made him a little confused when we were allowed to see him at first, and he
kept asking where you were. He got so angry at us for telling him to not worry
about that. He worked himself into a frenzy, and the nurses had to put him back
to sleep. The medicine should have worn off by now, though; it was such a low
dose, so I think he's just asleep now." Her voice steadily seemed farther and
farther away as she spoke.
Jimin’s knees buckled, and he knelt down by the side of the bed. He took
Yoongi’s less injured hand, forcing himself to not squeeze it too hard. He
couldn’t stop the horrible images from filling his head of Yoongi lying face-
down in the road, unmoving. He felt his eyes watering, and his throat close up.
A high-pitched ringing sound filled his ears.
“—imin!” There were hands on his shoulders, holding him up, but all he could
see was Yoongi’s prone figure. He had almost lost him, and Jimin hadn’t even
known. He wouldn’t have known at all, if it weren’t for Yoongi’s father calling
him. And he wouldn't have called him at all.
He choked on air, struggling to pull it in, but his throat kept closing.
“Jimin! I’m fine! Snap out of it!” Suddenly Yoongi’s voice cut through the
strangling fog, and Jimin cried out as the hand he was holding squeezed back
painfully tight. He forced his eyes open, vision blurry, as he gasped for air.
Yoongi was awake, staring back at him.
“Y-Yoongi,” Jimin whimpered, clutching onto his hand.
“Eomma, Abeoji, can you leave us for a few minutes?” Yoongi didn’t take his
eyes off of Jimin as he spoke to his parents.
“Of course,” his mother said, standing up and ushering his father out of the
room ahead of her.
The moment the door clicked shut, Jimin lunged forward and kissed Yoongi,
careful not to jostle him too much.
“Oh my god, I was so fucking scared,” Jimin mumbled against his lips. The kiss
was salty from his tears. “When your dad called me from your phone, I thought,
I thought—”
“Shh, I’m fine,” Yoongi interrupted him, touching his cheek and wiping a few of
the tears with his hand.
“You’re not fine, though,” Jimin protested.
Yoongi sighed. “Okay, I’m not fine,” he conceded. “But I’m alive.”
They were quiet for a moment, and Jimin glanced at the door.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm?”
“Did you tell your parents?”
He frowned. “Tell them what?”
“About us.”
Yoongi shook his head. “No, why?”
“Your dad knows.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How—”
“He, when he called me, he said something about knowing how much I meant to
you.”
It was clear by Yoongi’s expression that he wasn’t expecting this.
"That doesn't necessarily mean he...I mean he could just have been talking
about—"
"I don't think so, Yoongi. It was very clear what he meant." He laced their
fingers together. "He didn't sound upset about it, you know. He told me that
you needed me. That’s why he called me."
“No, he called you because I asked him to let you know what happened. I knew
you’d freak out if I disappeared. But they weren’t letting me have my phone.”
“Yeah, your mom said you got really angry about that. Well, regardless, he
knows. And clearly he doesn’t mind. You should talk to them,” Jimin urged.
But Yoongi shook his head. “No. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just…I can’t, Jimin. I don’t think you understand.”
Jimin sighed, trying to not be annoyed with him for his stubbornness. Now was
not the time. “No, I don’t understand, Yoongi. You’re just making it more
difficult for yourself, having to hide like this.”
Yoongi made a pained face, like he wanted to say something, but he was holding
himself back. He looked away, and Jimin noticed that he was trembling slightly.
Jimin quickly cupped Yoongi’s cheek, turning him back to him.
“No, no, no,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it right now, okay?” He leaned
close and whispered against his lips, “I love you, okay? And I'm here. You
don’t need to worry about anything else.”
Their kiss was wet and shaky, and Yoongi shook as Jimin held him. Yoongi’s eyes
were shining, but the tears pooling in them didn’t fall.
“Jimin,” he murmured. “Don’t leave me.”
Jimin smiled against his cheek, just resting there softly. “I’m not. I’m not
going anywhere.” He pulled back. “Can I let them back in, now?” Yoongi cleared
his throat and nodded.
“One more kiss though,” he said, tugging on Jimin’s shirt with his good hand.
Jimin laughed and obliged, before pulling away and walking over to summon his
parents back into the hospital room.
Jimin stayed with Yoongi and his parents until just before nine, when the
hospital staff told them they would have to leave since visiting hours were
almost over. Yoongi’s parents drove Jimin back to the apartment. No one spoke
during the car ride. But as soon as they pulled into the apartment building’s
parking lot, Yoongi's father stopped him from getting out.
"Jimin," Mr. Min began. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment before we leave,
if that is okay."
Jimin felt his stomach cramp up, and he clutched his key tightly between his
fingers. 
"Of course," he said, voice deliberately light.
"First of all, we want to thank you."
Jimin blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting at all.
"Excuse me? What...what for?"
"For being there for our son."
"Oh. Right. Of course."
"I don't know how much, if anything, Yoongi's told you about what happened in
the past—"
"He has. He—I know about what happened," Jimin interrupted. He didn't want them
to say it aloud right now.
"Oh, good." Yoongi's parents glanced at each other. "I didn't think it was my
place to tell you about it, but it's better you knew. You see, we've really
noticed a change in him lately, and we're sure it’s thanks to you."
"Yes," Mrs. Min chimed in, "just seeing how happy he was at Thanksgiving made
my heart warm. It's been such a long time since we've seen that kind of genuine
happiness in him."
 "He pretends that he's fine, to not worry us," Mr. Min continued, "but often
we can tell when something is wrong. He gets angry when we try to bring it up,
though. He thinks we pity or don't trust him."
"And that's not it at all. We just...We know those kinds of things can have
relapses with no warning. And we love him too much to let that happen."
Jimin felt strange; he'd never really noticed that about Yoongi. Sure, he kept
his feelings to himself most of the time, but Jimin couldn't pinpoint any
instances where he knew or suspected Yoongi had been pretending to be fine when
he wasn't. Or was he so good at it that Jimin just hadn't known?
"Anyway, we have a favor to ask of you. We know that he won't let us help him
with anything right now, so we want to ask you to please take care of him for
us. Please keep an eye on him. We have a feeling he'll let you in where he'd
shut us out.”
“And please don’t hesitate to contact us if you need to, sweetheart,” Mrs. Min
said. “I know we live a little far, but I really don’t mind making the drive
over if it means you both are all right.”
Somehow the fact that she had included Jimin, saying “you both” rather than
just “Yoongi” made Jimin want to cry. She must have seen the shininess in his
eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders, because she reached back to run her
fingers comfortingly through his hair. “It’s okay to cry, Jimin-ah. No one will
judge you for caring.”
He rubbed at his face and reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride,
Mr. Min. Good night, Mrs. Min.”
“Good night, Jimin. I’ll see you tomorrow when I bring Yoongi home,” Mrs. Min
said.
The apartment was especially quiet when Jimin entered. It wasn't that Jimin
hadn't been alone in the apartment, because of course he'd spent plenty of time
alone there over the past few months. But he'd never spent a night in the
apartment without Yoongi, and he felt his absence strongly now, knowing that he
wouldn’t be coming home to sleep. 
It wasn’t all that late, compared to what time he and Yoongi normally went to
bed, but Jimin felt all of his energy draining out of him. He also realized
he’d never eaten dinner. He’d completely forgotten. It was too late to get
something now, though. And he didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. He
silently changed into his sleepwear and climbed up into bed. He lay there, eyes
open, for a very long time.
The apartment was so quiet. He could hear the refrigerator running downstairs,
the click of ice shifting in the freezer. He could faintly hear the dog from
the house across the street barking in the yard. He could even hear the low
hum of the highway, punctuated by sirens and horns every once in a while.
Eventually he slipped into sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful.
It was night. He was wandering around the neighborhood, the streets empty. He
was looking for something, for someone. Yoongi. He couldn’t find him anywhere.
Jimin walked down a different street, but stopped.
There was an upright piano sitting in the middle of the street. It looked just
like the one his choir teacher used to have. It was covered in dust. As Jimin
stepped closer, it suddenly burst into flames. The fire licked at the keys and
climbed up the sides of the wooden piano.
He heard horrified screams behind him. He spun around just in time to see the
pavement splattered with blood. There was shouting, angry and pained. He
realized it was his own. But it seemed far away.
He turned again. He saw Yoongi. Sprawled and broken and bleeding. He wasn’t
moving. He wasn’t breathing. He was staring at nothing.
Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung all stood around him, not saying anything. Just
staring at him. Jimin tried to push them away so he could get to Yoongi, but
they wouldn’t move. They didn’t acknowledge him. It was like he was invisible.
Suddenly they all fell back as Chris stepped forward. He grabbed Yoongi by the
collar and began dragging his body away. Jimin yelled, jumping forward to pull
Yoongi away. He tried to hit him, to fight him, but Jimin was thrown into the
street. He went nearly deaf with the sound of screeching tires, and his vision
went white from the blinding headlights.
Jimin woke up sobbing. He cried loudly, the sound catching oddly in his throat.
He realized he couldn’t breathe. He hit his chest again and again, hunching
over, trying to force air into his lungs. Finally, some air managed to slip
through, and he collapsed, gasping and curled up on his side. He blindly
reached for Yoongi’s pillow, and found that Yoongi had left his sweatshirt
lying beside the head of the bed. He dragged it to his chest, and then pulled
it on over his t-shirt. He pulled the hood up over his head, and then brought
the pillow close to bury his face into. He fell back into a restless sleep,
only to have a second nightmare in the early hours of the morning.
He stood in the completely empty apartment. The walls were white and
suffocating.
He sat on the plane. The seat beside him was empty. He was greeted by solemn
faces at the airport.
A camera crew crowded around him, took him by the elbows. Led him away. He was
forced into a hotel room, told to undress. He didn’t move.
He was dragged to the bed, his clothes taken off one by one. Yoongi stood in
the corner, watching. He stood up to move toward Jimin, but he was held back.
Jimin struggled as someone held his wrists and wrapped a blindfold around his
head.
When Jimin woke up in the morning, he felt like a zombie. But he dragged
himself out of bed and made some coffee. Drinking it on an empty stomach didn’t
feel good, but there wasn’t really anything to eat. He had a minor freak out
when he couldn’t find his phone at first, but then he realized that it was
probably still in his jacket, which he’d tossed onto the sofa when he’d gotten
home. Sure enough, his phone was there, on nine percent battery, and filled
with missed texts. Some from Taehyung, but most from Yoongi.
He sighed and sat down cross-legged on the sofa after plugging in his phone and
stretching the cord across Yoongi’s workstation chair. He went through the
messages.
‘We’re stopping by the store on the way home. Do you need anything?’ Sent at 9:
21 AM.
‘Are you still asleep?’ Sent at 9:47 AM.
‘Jimin, answer your texts! You never sleep this late.’ Sent at 10:09 AM.
‘BTW I have to go to the police station later this afternoon. Will you come
with me?’ Sent at 10:10 AM.
Missed Call from Min Yoongi at 10:24 AM. There was no voicemail message,
though.
There weren’t any texts or calls after that. Yoongi must have given up. Jimin
was about to text back to Yoongi, when he heard the lock click on the door. He
looked up at the sound of rustling bags, and Yoongi and his mother came through
the door. The only thing Yoongi was carrying was his keys. Mrs. Min had both
hands full of groceries, and she set the bags down on the counter before she
began taking things out.
"I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning." Yoongi walked over to
Jimin, limping slightly and frowning down at him. 
"Sorry. I left my phone downstairs last night." Jimin's voice was rough, and he
cleared his throat self-consciously.
Yoongi peered at him suspiciously. "What happened to you? You look like death
warmed over. I thought I was the one who got into an accident.”
Jimin glanced at Mrs. Min, who was now filling up the refrigerator. She didn’t
appear to be paying attention to them. But he lowered his voice anyway.
“I didn’t sleep well last night.” He fiddled with the hem of the sweatshirt he
still had on. He’d seen Yoongi’s eyes on it; he’d noticed. “My nightmares came
back.”
“Oh. Jimin.” Yoongi sounded really sorry. Jimin didn’t want him to feel sorry
for him.
“It’s fine,” he lied. “I’m just glad you’re home.” He shifted his knee so he
was touching Yoongi’s leg. It wasn’t much contact, but it was enough for now.
Yoongi pressed back against his knee, although he grimaced a little.
“But I saw you’re limping? I thought your shoulder was the only—”
“It’s just bruises and scratches, honestly. It’s just a little sore. No
internal damage otherwise.”
“Yoongi-yah,” Mrs. Min called from the kitchen, making them both turn, “where
do you want me to put the bagels? Do you have a place for them, or do you
just—”
“Anywhere on the counter is fine, Eomma.”
“Bagels? I’m fucking starving,” Jimin straightened up.
“There’s cream cheese too,” Yoongi told him. “I ate already, but help
yourself.”
Jimin stood up on the sofa and stepped over the armrest to hop down and head
over to the kitchen. He’d long since passed the point of politely walking
around furniture in Yoongi’s apartment. He grabbed a bagel and popped it into
the toaster, thanking Mrs. Min when she handed him the cream cheese which she’d
already put into the fridge.
“Jimin,” she said as he leaned against the counter to wait for his bagel to
toast, “these are Yoongi’s medications that he needs to take.” She showed him a
paper with instructions on how many and how often to take the pills. “He should
only take the painkillers as long as he is in pain, and no more than
prescribed, because they can be addicting, and harm his liver. But don’t let
him tough it out, okay? There’s no need for that.”
“Right.”
“Eomma, you don’t need to explain all of that to him. I can deal with it
myself. Geez.”
“Yoongi, it’s better if he knows as well, so he can help you.”
“I really don’t need—” Yoongi started stalking over to the kitchen, probably to
grab the bag of medicine, but he stopped suddenly and stumbled, blinking
dazedly. Jimin sucked in his breath and swung himself around the kitchen island
counter to put a supporting arm around his waist.
“Whoa, are you okay?”
Yoongi tried to wave him off, but his head was still nodding slightly. “I’m
fine. It’s just, it’s just these damn painkillers.”
“They make him lightheaded and dizzy if he tries to move too quickly,” his mom
explained. “Yoongi,” she added sternly, “sit your butt down and stop trying to
be Mr. Tough Guy. Just let us take care of you.”
“You can’t boss me around in my own home,” he grumbled, but let Jimin bring him
back to the sofa.
A few minutes later as Jimin munched on his bagel, he and Yoongi watched from
the sofa while Mrs. Min moved around the apartment, taking in their progress on
packing. She stopped at the foot of the stairs to the loft.
“Are you going to be able to climb this, Yoongi?” she asked, turning and
looking worried.
“Eomma, I broke my shoulder, not my legs,” he rolled his eyes.
“You’d be surprised,” she rebuked him. “Why don’t we bring your mattress down
here so it’s easier? Now that most of your things are gone, there is plenty of
space."
Yoongi sighed and shared a glance with Jimin.
“Jimin, he’ll need to sleep propped up for a while. Are there enough pillows in
this apartment? Do you want me to bring over some of ours?”
“Oh my god, Eomma, I’ll be fine,” Yoongi irritably stole a bite from Jimin’s
bagel, and he didn’t have the heart to scold him like he normally did whenever
Yoongi stole his food.
“We should still bring the mattress down, though,” Mrs. Min insisted. When she
put her foot on the first step and took hold of the railing, Jimin shot a
panicked look at Yoongi and threw himself over the back of the sofa to head her
off.
“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Min! I can do it. It’s fine.”
“No, no, it’s too big for you, ai; let me help.”
Jimin knew Yoongi was probably dying of embarrassment over on the sofa, so
Jimin quickly climbed the steps and scrambled over the messy mattress. He
grabbed the half-used bottle of lube and box of condoms that were sitting in
plain view next to the side of the mattress, hiding them in the little drawer-
like box Yoongi used like a bedside table, where he had his small reading
light. Jimin wasn’t a moment too soon, either:
“You two are still sharing this dinky old mattress?”
“Eomma!” Yoongi yelled from downstairs. Jimin turned and sat down hard as he
lost his balance.
“My goodness. It’s so messy up here!”
“Eomma, please stop commenting on everything, oh my god.”
But Jimin saw the secret little grin she sent his way, and he had to fight down
his own. She was doing it on purpose. He found himself smiling as well, and he
quickly handed her the pillows and blankets to carry down first. While she was
piling those up on the sofa beside Yoongi (“If you weren’t injured right now,
I’d pile these right on top of you, young man”), Jimin pushed and shoved the
mattress until it was hanging over the edge of the loft.
“How in the world did you get this up here on your own, Yoongi?” he called
down, panting slightly.
“I didn’t,” was the deadpanned reply. “Hoseok helped.”
Mrs. Min climbed back up, but Jimin looked at her worriedly. “It’s really heavy
and awkward, Mrs. Min,” he warned her.
She scoffed at him. “You forget I work in a restaurant, Jimin. I’m not just a
little old lady; I have to carry heavy things all the time.”
“You should make Abeoji do that,” Yoongi commented from downstairs.
“No, I should do it myself,” she corrected him exasperatedly. This was clearly
an ongoing argument between them. “It’s my restaurant.”
“Look, why don’t I go first, and you come after?” Jimin suggested, wanting to
change the subject. “Or is that more difficult? I can probably support it, but
I need it to be steadied so it doesn’t just fall over the edge.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” she conceded. He moved aside to let her climb
the rest of the way up, offering her a hand when she had to climb over the
mattress where it was covering the railing.
“Thank you.” She looked at him in surprise when he easily pulled her up. “Oh!
You’re quite strong! You don’t look it under all those big layers, dear,” she
teased, ruffling his hair affectionately.
Jimin felt his face heat up in embarrassment, but he couldn’t deny that he
enjoyed it. He kept realizing more and more how much he was starting to love
Yoongi’s mother. He was happy she seemed to care just as deeply for him.
Together they managed to get the mattress safely to the floor, and then they
pushed it up against the wall so there would be something to set all of the
pillows up against for Yoongi. Jimin realized they would probably have to brace
the opposite side of mattress somehow to keep it from sliding away from the
wall, but he’d deal with that later.
“Are you sure you have enough pillows?”
“Yes, we’re fine, Eomma, you can stop worrying. I’ve got plenty of blankets and
towels and shit I can pile up, too. I promise I’ll make a giant fucking nest,
if that makes you happy,” Yoongi’s mood was quickly deteriorating. Jimin and
Mrs. Min shared a look, and she pursed her lips.
“Okay, Yoongi, I can take a hint. I’ll get out of your hair.” She headed back
into the kitchen to gather her keys and jacket, before going over to Yoongi to
drop a kiss on his forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?” her voice was
softer.
Yoongi didn’t answer, but Jimin knew from his posture that it was his grudging
acceptance.
Mrs. Min turned to Jimin and gave him a long hug. “Remember what I told you,
okay?”
He nodded.
“What did you tell him?” Yoongi asked suspiciously.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about,” she evaded.
“Jimin, what did she tell you?”
“It’s not important,” Jimin lied. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at Mrs. Min
and lowered his voice. “I will,” he assured her. “Thank you.”
“Do you have my number?”
Jimin shook his head, but knew he’d never be able to get her number with Yoongi
currently watching them with eyes like a hawk. “I’ll just steal his phone if I
have to, don’t worry.”
She nodded. “Okay, take care, both of you! I’ll be in touch, Yoongi, whether
you like it or not.” Then she hugged Jimin one more time and leaned up on
tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead as well. He tensed, and stared at her with
wide eyes, but her expression was soft.
“Take care of yourself, too, sweetheart. You look very tired.”
Jimin nodded, voice stuck in his throat. With one last stern, but loving look
tossed Yoongi’s way, Mrs. Min stepped outside and let Jimin shut the door.
There was a moment of complete silence, before Jimin heard a strange sound
behind him. He frowned and whirled around, eyes widening when he saw Yoongi’s
good hand pressed hard against his mouth and nose, eyes squeezed shut. His
shoulders were shaking and he was gasping hard.
“Oh, Yoongi,” Jimin breathed, and immediately went to his side, carefully
wrapping his arms around the other man. A muffled sob broke through Yoongi’s
hand, and Jimin gently pulled the hand away. “Let it out,” he whispered,
kissing Yoongi’s temple. “Just let it out, okay? I’m here.”
Yoongi sniffled and buried his face in Jimin’s neck, hissing slightly when he
aggravated his injury a little. Jimin rested his chin on the top of Yoongi’s
head and rubbed his hands up and down his back.
“We’ll get through this, okay? And I give you full permission to use me as your
slave until you heal.”
Yoongi huffed out a wet laugh against his collarbone. “You’re going to regret
saying that,” he mumbled.
Jimin smiled. “I know. But I don’t take it back.”
Chapter End Notes
     I cried four times writing this. ;_;
     A lot more was supposed to happen in this chapter, but then it
     started getting too long. (But hey, that just means the story will
     last longer! ;P )
     I hope you guys are loving Mrs. Min as much as I am. XD Writing her
     makes me miss my own mom a lot, lol. (I live on the other side of the
     world from my family.) But omg...even if Yoongi's mom didn't know
     that Jimin and Yoongi were together, she certainly would now. I
     mean...Jimin's been sleeping in the same bed with him for months now.
     And the way they act around each other isn't hiding anything. They
     only think they're being subtle. Silly boys.
     Thanks for reading! Don't forget to feed me with your lovely
     comments! <3
***** Chapter XVII *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the long wait! My birthday was last week, and then I've
     just been busy with life and with trying to keep up with all those
     interviews/performances our boys have been doing in LA! ;)
     Here's a nice, long chapter for your enjoyment.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XVII.
 
Jimin had never been so relieved that he already had the day off work. Yoongi
kept insisting he was fine, but Jimin could tell he was frustrated and in a lot
of pain. Following Mrs. Min’s suggestion, Jimin gathered all of the pillows in
the apartment—which wasn’t many, to be honest—and piled them up against the
wall on the mattress. He ended up turning the mattress sideways against the
wall and pushing one of the heavier boxes up against the other side so it
wouldn’t slide across the floor in the middle of the night. He figured Yoongi
could sleep sideways on the bed, since he'd be sitting up anyway.
“I feel like I’m making a fort for a sleepover,” he joked, making a face at
Yoongi, who cracked a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Don’t bother so much about that,” he sighed. “It’ll be fine.”
 Around two in the afternoon, they took an Uber to the police station. They had
to wait in the lobby for a while before someone was available to speak with
them, and then they were taken into an office.
"I'm glad you weren't too badly hurt," the officer commented as he sat down.
"Now, the area didn’t have any CCTV cameras on the street, so we had to gather
footage from the dashcams of two other cars at the scene. Unfortunately, all we
have is a very blurry photo of the vehicle, right here.” He handed them a
tablet with a photo displayed on the screen. “It’s impossible to make out the
license plate, so all we can tell is the make and model of the car. Did you see
the driver at all, Mr. Min?"
Yoongi shook his head. "No, I didn't even see the car that hit me. All I know
is that suddenly I was pushed straight into the opposing lane and into the
front of a blue…pick-up? SUV? I barely remember that car. It all happened so
quickly."
Jimin frowned at the photo. Although he could see a silhouette through the
driver side window, the glare from headlights washed out any possible chance of
seeing a clearer image. Jimin wasn’t sure how the police knew the make and
model of the car; the only thing he could tell from the photo was that it was
some kind of SUV, and a dark color, either gray or black. He said as much, as
he handed the photo back to them.
“Witnesses at the scene said it was a gray Honda CR-V.”
Jimin felt a chill run through him. That was the exact same color, make, and
model of Chris’s car.
“Can I see the photo again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level. The
officer handed it back to him, and he peered closer at the car. He couldn’t
tell. There weren’t any identifying bumper stickers on the car, but then again
Chris didn’t have any, either. There weren’t any obvious marks on the outside
of the car—and the only blemish that Jimin knew was on Chris’s car was on the
passenger side; where Chris had accidentally pulled into the driveway too
closely one year when there was snow piled up everywhere, and the mailbox had
scraped a long line in the paint across the doors. But this photo didn’t show
the passenger side.
He sighed, handing the photo back. He couldn’t get rid of the bad feeling he
had, but it had to just be a coincidence, right? There were hundreds of gray
CR-Vs in the State. He had to just be imagining it. It was a ridiculous
thought. He didn’t mention it to anyone.
"Right now we're on the lookout for someone sporting damage on this side of
their vehicle," the officer said, pointing to the specific area on the SUV. It
doesn't seem like the collision did much damage to the suspect's car, but at
the very least there is probably paint damage."
"How is there not much damage?" Yoongi asked. "I was told my scooter was
unrepairable."
"Yes, but that was by the second vehicle, the one you hit. Your scooter was
crushed underneath. It's a good thing you were flung off by the impact,
honestly, because that could have been you as well."
Jimin squeezed his hands inside his sleeves and did his best to not react to
his words.
"Have you spoken with a lawyer yet?" the officer continued.
"A lawyer?" Yoongi repeated, sounding confused. "What for?"
"For insurance claims, of course. You weren't at fault at all in this accident,
that much is clear. You'll want to claim insurance for your scooter and
hospital fees."
"Oh." Yoongi sounded tired. "No, I haven't. Not yet."
"Do you need to be assigned a public lawyer, or do you have a private lawyer
already?"
Yoongi made a face. "Uh...I, my parents have a private lawyer, I think? Can I
just use her?"
"Of course, that's your decision. You can use whoever you prefer. I'm just
letting you know that if you don't have one already or can't afford one, there
are public lawyers available."
"Ah, okay. Thanks for letting me know."
When they left the station, Jimin waited on a nearby bench while Yoongi spoke
with his father on the phone. He didn't really listen; he couldn't stop
thinking about the hit-and-run driver. It had to be a coincidence that the car
was the same. Sure, it was possible that Chris had been in the area, but if it
had truly been an accident—he'd accidentally run red lights before when he
overestimated the length of the yellow light—Jimin couldn't think of any reason
why he wouldn't have stopped. Four years ago when he got into a fender bender
with one of the seniors at Jimin's school, he'd waited for the police to show
up to report it. And if it wasn't an accident...well, even that didn't make
sense. Yes, Chris had already tried to strangle Yoongi, and probably wouldn't
hesitate to cause more harm to him...but Yoongi had been wearing his helmet.
And Chris didn't even know that Yoongi drove a scooter. Jimin doubted that
Chris would have recognized him.
It was such a far reach that Jimin knew he had to be imagining things.
“Why are you so fidgety?”
Jimin startled when Yoongi suddenly spoke to him, having finished his phone
call without Jimin realizing. He was now standing in front of Jimin, frowning
as he pocketed his phone.
“I’m not fidgety,” Jimin protested.
Yoongi scoffed. “Yes, you are. What’s wrong? There’s something you’re not
telling me.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re a fucking horrible liar, Jimin, and we both know it. So spit it out.”
Yoongi’s words hurt, but Jimin told himself that Yoongi didn’t mean it that
way. He was just tired and frustrated and in pain. Jimin would have been just
as rude, if not more, if he had been in Yoongi’s place.
“It’s just…it’s probably nothing,” he avoided.
“What is?”
“The first car, the one they can’t find.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, it—I know this has to just be a coincidence, but—it looks like Chris’s
car.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. “You think Chris hit me?” It was
clear he couldn’t believe the suggestion. “Jimin. I know that he’s a psycho,
but I highly doubt it was him. Whoever it was probably was afraid of taking
responsibility for the accident, and ran off. Maybe they think I died or
something, I dunno. But from what I heard, they left so quickly that they might
not even have seen the outcome of the accident. Otherwise we’d have better
pictures, you know? Could you tell what the driver looked like from the photo?”
“No, but…” Jimin trailed off.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Yoongi shrugged. “I think it was just a random
accident, which happens all the time. It was literally right as the light
changed that it happened, and the person was making a right turn, which was
illegal at that particular intersection, but maybe they didn’t notice the sign.
Maybe they thought they could make it. I really don’t know. But I don’t see the
point of stressing out about things that probably are just coincidences.”
Jimin nodded, getting up. “I guess so. What did your dad say?”
“He said their lawyer can take care of everything for me. I was worried about
us leaving in a few weeks, but I guess it doesn’t really affect it so much. I
might just have to deal with it by emailing back and forth once we’re out of
the country.”
 
While they were out and about, Jimin thought Yoongi was handling his injury
very well. So well, in fact, that Jimin started to think that it wasn’t as bad
as Yoongi’s parents were making it out to be. Yoongi was being so level-headed
about the entire situation, that it put Jimin at ease. It was as the day winded
down that Jimin began to see a change in Yoongi’s attitude, though.
Yoongi’s mood steadily declined toward the end of the day. He didn’t get angry
at Jimin, but he got quiet, quieter than usual, and the silences grew
uncomfortable. In the evening, as he tried to direct Jimin on how to cook
dinner—something that was usually Yoongi’s job—he became dismissive.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter if it turns out. Just toss it in the oven like
that.”
“Yoongi, don’t say that. You’re making it sound like I’m completely hopeless at
cooking! I’m not that bad.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. It’s just food. We’ll eat it either way.”
They didn’t really resolve the argument, but Jimin let it slide. He also
silently tugged away Yoongi’s plate to cut up his meat when he noticed Yoongi
having difficulty biting into the larger pieces without the ability to use both
a fork and knife at the same time.
“God fucking dammit, I’m not five,” he groused.
“I never said you were,” Jimin replied evenly, sliding the plate back to him
once he was finished.
Before bed, Yoongi decided he wanted to properly bathe, since he’d not really
had a chance since getting in the hospital. Jimin offered to help him, and
Yoongi begrudgingly agreed. But despite them having showered before many times,
this time he was not happy about it.
“Just pretend you’re in a spa, or a hair salon,” Jimin sighed, as he held the
showerhead at an angle where it wouldn’t get on his sling, which they’d covered
in plastic since they didn’t have a special waterproof one yet. He gently
massaged the shower gel over Yoongi’s skin, frowning at the deep purple bruises
and scrapes. “Don’t think of it as not being able to wash yourself; think of it
as getting pampered.”
“I fucking hate being pampered,” Yoongi pointed out. “Maybe you like being
pampered—”
“Only if you’re the one doing the pampering,” Jimin insinuated, sucking on the
skin between his jawbone and earlobe. “Why don’t you let me make this more
enjoyable for you?”
“Because at the moment I really don’t think I can get turned on by anything,”
Yoongi grumbled. “My entire body is focused on my shoulder, and I’m just so
tense that even the idea of…any of that…doesn’t even sound appealing to me.”
Jimin frowned. He’d have to figure out how to change that. They quickly
finished the half shower, half sponge bath after that, and Jimin held Yoongi
close to kiss him softly as he dried off. But Yoongi kept grimacing.
“I think I need to take my painkillers again,” he forced out.
“Where are they?”
 The painkillers didn't kick in immediately, but eventually Yoongi seemed to
relax. He settled onto the mattress, looking displeased.
“How in the world is this going to work?” Yoongi wondered aloud. “If I’m
sleeping horizontally on the mattress, where will you be?”
Jimin grinned, and lay down on his left side, curling up with his head on his
lap, like a cat. “Like this.” He pretended to paw at Yoongi's stomach, and
rolled his tongue to let out a purr. "See? This is perfect." 
Yoongi rolled his eyes at him, but had a smile on his lips. He reached down to
card his fingers through Jimin's hair. Jimin purred again.
"Stop that. It's weird," Yoongi chuckled.
They were able to sleep relatively comfortably like that, although Jimin ended
up taking his head off of Yoongi's lap to lie on the mattress beside him. In
the morning, Yoongi woke up much earlier than usual, when he couldn't stand the
pain anymore. 
Jimin listened from where he lay on the mattress as Yoongi called the coffee
shop to quit his job.
“There’s no point in staying if I'm leaving in a few weeks anyway. I can't even
work the register, and I definitely can't work bar.” He paused, listening for a
while. “Yes, I know, and I appreciate it, but I really can’t. I’m sorry to give
you such short warning, but there’s really nothing I can do about it. It is
what it is. …Yeah. Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. I’m supposed to take it easy right
now, but I’ll try to come in to do that next week. …Right. Thanks. Talk to you
later.”
Jimin heard Yoongi sigh loudly and set his phone down.
“This is so fucking annoying,” he muttered, rolling his chair across the floor,
probably up to his workstation, but Jimin couldn’t tell from his position on
the floor.
 
As the days progressed, Yoongi withdrew into himself more and more. They packed
up and shipped off Yoongi’s piano to Korea, once it was clear that he couldn’t
play it in his state, and there was no point in keeping it around. That day
Yoongi barely spoke to Jimin, despite numerous attempts to draw him into
meaningless conversation. Jimin listened to Namjoon trying to assure Yoongi
that it would be fine, that the injury wouldn’t affect his new job, that they
could work around it. It was only temporary, and things like that happen. But
Yoongi couldn’t seem to accept any of their words.
One morning when Jimin woke up, it was cold; colder than it had been so far,
and no one had turned on the heater yet. He curled up underneath the blankets,
trying to cover all parts of his body so nothing touched the chilly air. He was
alone on the bed; he didn’t know where Yoongi was. He hadn’t noticed when the
other man had risen. Maybe he was in the bathroom. The apartment was quiet,
just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall. As
Jimin slowly became more awake, he frowned. It was too quiet. He poked his head
out from under the blankets, shuddering at the cold air, and listened. Nothing.
Wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders and burying his chin in it,
he stood up and walked toward the bathroom. The door was open; no one was
inside.
“Yoongi?” he called out experimentally, already knowing that the other man
couldn’t possibly be in the apartment. It’s not like there was anywhere for him
to hide.
It was still relatively early, but the coffee maker hadn’t even been turned on,
so wherever Yoongi had gone, it had been without his normal cup of coffee.
Yoongi’s cell phone was sitting on the counter. Jimin picked it up, staring
dully at it for a moment. Had he left it on purpose, or by accident? Jimin
clenched his fist around the blanket, trying to keep from jumping to
conclusions. But it was difficult, since the last time he couldn’t get a hold
of Yoongi, he’d ended up being in the hospital.
He discarded the blanket on the sofa, and grabbed his coat, wallet, key, and
both of their cell phones. Not caring that he was still in his sleep pants, he
shoved his sneakers on and left the apartment.
In the same moment that he caught his breath because it was so cold outside, he
also let it out as he felt his entire body lose its tension; Yoongi was sitting
on the curb by the parking lot, steady clouds of air rising from his lips and
mouth. Thankfully he had his coat on, but Jimin was sure that the chill was
seeping up through the pavement into his body, and he wasn’t sure how long
Yoongi had already been sitting there.
“There you are,” Jimin said lightly, as he walked over. “I wasn’t sure where
you’d disappeared off to.”
“I’m just getting some fresh air,” Yoongi replied, not looking at him. "I’m
sick of being cooped up in the apartment all the time.”
“How long have you been out here? It’s freezing.”
“I dunno. A while.”
“You should come back inside and warm up.”
Yoongi didn’t answer for a while, but then he sighed. “Just leave me alone,
Jimin.”
Jimin knelt down on the pavement in front of him, to get closer to his level.
“I can’t leave you alone, Yoongi. You know that.” He gently cradled the sides
of his face in his hands, trying to pour his love into his gaze. He wasn’t sure
if it was being conveyed, but he hoped so. Yoongi lowered his eyes to break eye
contact, although he didn’t pull away from Jimin’s touch. Jimin leaned in and
softly kissed him, pushing his mouth open with his lips, carefully slipping his
tongue inside. Yoongi’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back just as
tenderly, although he didn’t lift his other arm to hold Jimin as usual. They
kissed like that for several minutes, until Jimin’s knees started losing
feeling, and he was sure that his lips had turned quite red.
Yoongi sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, biting it slightly, furrowing
his brows. “What did I do to deserve you?” he muttered, almost as if to
himself.
Jimin smiled. “I could ask you the same thing, of myself. The answer to your
question is far more obvious than to mine. I still honestly don’t know what I
did to deserve you. I fucking love you so much, you’re probably tired of
hearing me say it.”
A small smile finally appeared on Yoongi’s lips. “Nah. I’ll never get tired of
hearing it.”
“Good. Because I won’t stop.” He stole another kiss, more heated this time, and
when he broke away for the second time, he mumbled against Yoongi’s mouth, “I
really wish you’d fuck me, though. I miss it so much.”
Yoongi huffed, and Jimin couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh, as Yoongi
let his forehead drop onto Jimin’s shoulder with a thunk. “Jimin, I don’t even
know if I can—”
“You can,” Jimin cut him off. “I looked it up.”
Yoongi snorted. “You what? What exactly did you look up?”
Jimin licked his lips self-consciously. “I looked up whether it was possible
for you to have sex while recovering from a broken shoulder.”
“Wow, that’s not desperate at all,” Yoongi deadpanned.
“Fuck you,” Jimin quipped, although it had no bite. “Anyway, it’s definitely
possible; we just have to be careful. Basically you just have to let me take
care of you. You’d just sit back and enjoy.”
“Hmm.” Yoongi’s hand, which had been resting limply on Jimin’s thigh, moved up
a little to his hip, thumb slipping under his shirt. When his nail lightly
stroked the skin just above Jimin’s waistline, a soft tingle ran through him.
“Is that a good ‘hmm,’ or a bad ‘hmm’?” he asked. “Because I
seriously, seriously am going into withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal?” Jimin couldn’t see his face, but he knew Yoongi was raising an
eyebrow at him right now.
“From your dick. And your fingers. And your tongue. And oh my god, I’m getting
hard just thinking about it.”
“You’re so vulgar. And cheesy.”
“Come on. I promise it’ll be good. And it’ll take your mind off things.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh my god, Yoongi. Why do I put up with this again?”
“Because when you occasionally do get some, you get it good?”
Jimin snorted, and just barely kept himself from shoving Yoongi playfully like
he normally would.
“Don’t be so full of yourself.”
 
During one of the following evenings when Yoongi wasn’t ignoring him, but was
actually being more touchy and cuddly than usual, Jimin decided to give it a
try. Yoongi was sitting back against his pile of pillows and folded up towels
(“like a throne,” Jimin had laughed at one point), and Jimin crawled over him,
straddling his lap. They kissed for a while, barely touching anywhere else
until Jimin began to pull Yoongi’s shirt off.
“Just sit back and relax,” Jimin soothed, kissing the corner of his jaw and
then moving down. “Just let me know if you start hurting.”
“Why am I having reverse déjà vu right now?” Yoongi smirked. It took Jimin a
moment to realize what he was talking about, but when he did, he felt his face
warm up pleasantly at the memory of their first time together. He let his smile
spread across his face, until he could barely see Yoongi through the thin
cracks between his eyelids.
“Because it’s my turn to take care of you, now,” Jimin answered, pulling him in
for a deep kiss.
He continued to kiss down Yoongi’s throat and chest, sucking hard at his
nipples. Jimin always loved tugging at the small nubs, licking a circle around
them, humming from his own pleasure. He smiled against the skin when he heard
the shuddering breath Yoongi took in. Yoongi was never as vocal as Jimin, but
he’d learned to recognize the signs that he was doing something right.
Stuttered breathing, quiet groans, and muttered curses were usually the biggest
indicators.
Sparing a quick glance up at Yoongi’s face, finding him with his eyes closed
and mouth open, Jimin shuffled further down on the mattress, and began to tug
at Yoongi’s joggers. Yoongi was already halfway hard, and Jimin startled when
suddenly Yoongi seized his shoulder tightly with his right hand.
“Wait,” he ground out. “I’m trying to—I’m too tense. I can’t relax,” he finally
managed.
“Don’t worry,” Jimin assured him, trying not to wince. “I promise I’ll help you
relax, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Can you…um, can you let go, a little, that actually hurts,” he laughed, and
Yoongi’s eyes flew open as he immediately let go of Jimin’s shoulder.
“Oh my god. Sorry.”
“No worries. I guess you don’t know your own strength.” He gave Yoongi a
comforting squeeze before pulling Yoongi’s pants off the rest of the way. He
paused and yanked off his own shirt, knowing that Yoongi would feel weird about
Jimin being fully dressed. But it was a little chilly, so he dragged the
blankets up over his shoulders.
Yoongi chuckled, watching him. “You look adorable like that,” he pointed out,
reaching out to ruffle Jimin’s hair.
“Adorable, huh?” Jimin repeated, before leaning down and licking a stripe
across his lower abdomen, sucking lightly at the skin. Yoongi trembled, hand
burying itself in Jimin’s hair.
“Oh,” was all he said.
Jimin stroked him through his boxers, before gently tugging them down as well.
A moment later all of his own clothes followed suit. It had been such a long
time since they had lain together naked like that, and for a moment Jimin just
rested against him, sliding his hand along Yoongi’s skin. When he finally
flicked his tongue over Yoongi’s cock, the hand in his hair tightened but
didn’t pull. Jimin figured Yoongi wouldn’t appreciate being teased, though, so
he quickly took in as much as he could, opening the back of his throat until
his nose was pressed hard against his groin, enveloped by the true scent of
Yoongi.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed, fingers trembling against his scalp.
Jimin sucked and bobbed his head, trying to breathe through his nose so he
wouldn’t have to take his mouth off. He could feel himself getting harder and
harder, and he moaned around Yoongi before sliding off wetly. He breathed
heavily as he stared down at Yoongi.
“Come’ere,” the rapper whispered, drawing him up to slot their mouths together.
In between kisses, he asked, “Where’s the lube?”
Jimin popped it open and squeezed some into his waiting hand. Yoongi sat up
straighter to catch his lips again, licking deep into his mouth, so Jimin
wasn’t really expecting it when he suddenly felt a slick finger teasing at his
entrance. He gasped and startled, before spreading his thighs farther apart and
scooting closer. Yoongi pushed his finger in all the way to the last knuckle,
pulling a small whimper from Jimin’s throat. Within a few minutes, he had three
fingers moving in and out of Jimin’s body. It took all the control Jimin could
muster to not collapse on him; normally he was lying down for this. He wrapped
his hand around Yoongi’s cock, twisting and pulling. Finally he couldn’t take
it anymore, and he tugged at Yoongi’s wrist to make him take his fingers out.
“Okay?” Jimin murmured, grasping the base of Yoongi’s cock and hovering over
it.
“Yeah,” was the soft reply.
Jimin sank down onto him completely, bracing himself on the wall. He may have
done it a little too fast, for his eyes rolled back momentarily at the
overwhelming sensation. Yoongi groaned.
“God,” Jimin forced out, nearly choking on the word. Oh, he had missed this.
He made himself open his eyes to check on the man below him. Yoongi was
grimacing, but it didn’t seem to be entirely his shoulder that was causing it.
Jimin gently pressed their lips together, close-mouthed, and then just rested
his cheek against Yoongi’s for a moment. Yoongi’s good hand came up to hold the
back of Jimin’s neck, thumb rubbing circles on the skin. Then Jimin pushed
himself up with a quick but hard kiss to his lips, and began to move himself up
and down on his dick. It was more difficult not being able to hold onto Yoongi
himself, but the wall was good enough. His thighs burned, and low huffs came
from Yoongi’s mouth every time he sank low. Jimin could feel himself getting
close.
“Yoongi,” he gasped out. He was shaking, barely able to hold himself up.
“Yoongi, I can’t, I’m gonna—” He rotated his hips, grinding hard, dragging the
end of Yoongi’s dick against his prostate. Then, with a soft cry, he came,
spilling out all over Yoongi’s chest.
Yoongi still hadn’t come, and so despite his exhaustion and sensitivity, Jimin
tried to continue bucking against him. But soon it was too much, and he had to
bury his face in the right side of Yoongi’s neck as he whimpered and cried.
“Jimin,” Yoongi breathed, grasping his hip with his hand, and attempting to
push him off. “Come on, you don’t have to force yourself.”
Trembling, Jimin pulled himself off, and collapsed next to him, panting
heavily, soft mewls still falling from his lips when he moved his hips a
certain way. He heard Yoongi sigh over him, and fingers carded through his
hair.
“You’re so beautiful like this.”
Jimin dragged himself up onto Yoongi’s throne of pillows so he could snuggle up
against him, wrapping the blankets around them both. They slowly kissed for a
while, Jimin’s hand sneaking down to continue pleasuring Yoongi. Eventually he
tensed up and hissed, before Jimin’s hand was coated in warmth, and Yoongi’s
entire body seemed to melt back into the pillows. Jimin smiled at him, happy he
could help him at least in this way. For just a moment, he knew that Yoongi’s
injury was far from the front of his mind.
He let himself lie there for a few short moments, before he knew he had to get
them cleaned up, or they’d regret it in the morning.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, slipping out from under the covers, and booking
it to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth and a towel. Now that he wasn’t
active, he could feel the chilly air on his bare skin as he quickly moved
through the apartment.
“Agh, it’s so fucking cold,” he complained as he dove back under the covers,
hurriedly wiping at them both with the wet cloth and then drying them with the
towel. He tossed them onto the floor by the bed to be dealt with in the
morning. Thatcould wait.
 
It got closer and closer to the day they would leave. Jimin took over the job
of packing, allowing Yoongi to direct him through what went where. Yoongi went
to a few physical therapy sessions, but rather than encourage him, they only
seemed to bring his mood down. He would come home sore and tired, in a shitty
mood, and nothing Jimin did could make him feel better. No matter what he said,
Yoongi continued to focus on the fact that “I can’t do anything myself.” Those
kinds of days increased the closer they came to the day of departure, and they
left Jimin feeling mentally exhausted as well.
Meanwhile, Taehyung had finished up his finals, and was just about to leave for
South Korea as well. On his last shift at the convenience store, he and Jimin
pretty much just stood around and chatted the entire time, only half as
productive as normal.
“/How’s Yoongi-hyung doing?/” he asked Jimin, twirling a pack of chopsticks
between his fingers.
Jimin sighed. “/Not well, to be honest. I just don’t know what to do. Sometimes
he’s fine, you know? But then there’s entire days when he’s just…not there./”
“/Do you think maybe he doesn’t want you to be so, I don’t know, helpful?/”
“/What do you mean?/” Jimin tried not to sound as offended as he felt, hearing
those words.
“/You remember how you got upset for him worrying too much about protecting
you. Maybe this is the same. I may not know him as well as you, but I can tell
he doesn’t like being coddled./”
“/Yeah, I know, but I’m not.I’ve been letting him do what he wants, and only
helping when he asks, or secretly helping when he doesn’t realize it./” Like
making sure all of their food was in bite-sized pieces before serving it, so
that Yoongi didn’t have to sit through Jimin cutting his food up for him. Or
making sure the caps on bottles in the bathroom weren’t screwed on too tightly,
so he could easily open them with one hand.
Taehyung shrugged. “/I don’t know what to tell you, then. Sorry. At least soon
enough you’ll be in Korea, though, and maybe that will help./”
Jimin frowned. “/How is moving across the globe going to help his mental state?
He’s not going to magically get better just because we live in Korea and not
the U.S./”
“/Well he won’t be cooped up in an apartment all day by himself, that’s one
thing,/” Taehyung pointed out. “/Since his studio will be at the BigHit company
building, he’ll be able to get out, and talk to more people than just you—no
offense./”
Jimin supposed that was true, and he said as much. Yoongi did leave the
apartment for various things, relying on Uber, or Hoseok when the other rapper
was available to give him a lift. But most of the time as far as Jimin knew, he
was at home, supposedly working.
They spent the rest of their shift planning for meeting up after they both
arrived in Seoul. Taehyung excitedly told Jimin about all of the places he was
going to take him, and Jimin felt himself starting to get more and more
excited. By the end of the night, he was in an amazing mood, still mapping out
all of the adventures they would get up to once he finally got to Seoul. They
planned to have a small Christmas-slash-home-warming party to help Jimin and
Yoongi unpack once they were in Korea. Jimin couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi about
their plans, hoping he would be at least a little enthusiastic, if not as
excited as they were.
When Jimin opened the door to the apartment, he was surprised to find it dark.
Yoongi wouldn’t be asleep this early, though. He flicked on the lights as he
slipped off his shoes, and gasped. The apartment was trashed. Papers that Jimin
knew to be music sheets were scattered everywhere. The plastic jar of pencils
and pens that usually sat on Yoongi’s work station was lying on the floor, its
contents spilled across the floor. The chair was halfway across the room, lying
on its side. The pillows and blankets were in a complete disarray, some hanging
precariously off of the sofa’s back. One of the kitchen stools was knocked
over, and the sweatshirt Jimin had left hanging on it earlier was crumpled on
the ground.
Jimin’s stomach dropped.
Chapter End Notes
     Oh no...
     Next chapter is the last one...and then I'm thinking of writing an
     epilogue. We'll see.
     Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to comment! I love reading
     your reactions! <3
***** Chapter XVIII *****
Chapter Notes
     I’m so sorry to make you wait so long, everyone! I was in a car
     accident on the 23rd (I was the passenger), and although no one was
     hurt other than some sore necks which seem to be fine now (we were
     hit pretty hard from behind) it shook me up a little and I’ve been
     struggling to write this chapter since then. So again, sorry for
     drawing it out…I hope you think it was worth the wait.
     On Friday night I finally breached that wall that was blocking me
     from writing, and I’ve been overwhelmed by the feels in this very
     long, final chapter. I swear, this is going to be a roller coaster of
     emotions, so pull up a box of tissues, grab a blanket to wrap
     yourself in…and enjoy.
     Everything is coming to a close.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
XVIII.
  
“Yoongi?” Jimin called out, not even bothering to take off his coat as he moved
into the apartment. There was no answer, but then he saw the light shining
under the bathroom door. “Yoongi?” he tried again. “I’m coming in,” he warned.
Yoongi was sitting in the far corner of the bathroom, head buried in his knees,
left arm held awkwardly in the way in its sling. Yoongi’s bottles of pills were
sitting in a neat line in front of him. Some were the ones the hospital had
prescribed him, but there were also others that Jimin didn’t immediately
recognize. Compared to the disaster of the rest of the apartment, the neatness
of their arrangement sent a chill down Jimin’s spine.
“Yoongi,” he said again, softer this time. He moved to kneel in front of him.
“I can’t,” Yoongi mumbled.
“What?” Jimin leaned closer to hear what he was trying to say.
“I can’t trust myself,” he continued. “You need to take those away from me.”
Jimin frowned and picked up one of the bottles.
“I almost…I almost—” Yoongi couldn’t finish his sentence, pressing his right
hand against his mouth as his face crumpled in despair.
With a sudden sense of dread, Jimin realized what Yoongi had been planning to
do. Everything Jimin could say, wanted to say, seemed like the wrong thing. He
was afraid to say the wrong thing. Right now, it was more dangerous than ever.
So, instead, he didn’t say anything. He gently pulled Yoongi’s hand away from
his face and lifted his chin so that he was looking at Jimin. He pulled his
sweater sleeve a little up over his hand to use it to wipe away the tear
streaks from Yoongi’s flushed face. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss
beside his eye, thumb stroking the space between his jaw and earlobe.
“I almost…but then, then I thought of you,” Yoongi tried to say again, and
Jimin’s heart clenched. “I saw your f-face, and,” Yoongi swallowed tightly,
“and I couldn’t do it. And I hated myself for even considering it. I’m so
sorry.”
Jimin rested his forehead against Yoongi’s. “Please don’t leave me, Yoongi. I
love you so, so much. I don’t know how to help you; I don’t know the right
things to say. But I love you too much to let go of you, okay?
You’re everything to me.”
Yoongi sighed. His right hand found Jimin’s and squeezed tightly.
“You saved me, you know?” Jimin continued. “If you hadn’t found me, if you
hadn’t broken me out of that life, I probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer.
But you helped me break away, you helped me get better, and you showed me what
it is to be loved. Not for my body, but for me.” Jimin paused, settling down
more comfortably against the edge of the bathtub. “And now it’s my turn to do
the same for you. So please, just…let me help you, okay?”
Yoongi licked his dry lips and nodded, eyes on their intertwined hands.
  
That wasn’t the end of Yoongi’s dark days, but they did get better. Jimin did
his best to not smother Yoongi while he kept a watchful eye on him; trying to
give him as much love as possible, but not too much, because Yoongi hated that;
he let Yoongi take charge any time he showed an interest in doing so, and
always made sure he was available if Yoongi needed him. They talked more about
what Yoongi was going through, so that he wouldn’t keep it bottled up inside
like he had been doing. And when Jimin came down with a minor case of the flu a
week before they were due to move, he wondered if he was imagining it when
Yoongi almost seemed happy to be the one taking care of him instead of the
other way around. It wasn’t like he was outright smiling as he rubbed Jimin’s
back when he was crouched in front of the toilet, throwing up, but his overall
attitude seemed lighter and less stressed.
Jimin was sitting on the floor in front of Yoongi’s computer (also on the
floor, as most of the furniture was gone by that point), chatting with Namjoon
as Yoongi fixed himself a coffee in the kitchen. With Taehyung back in Seoul,
Jimin wasn’t using Korean as much—he still didn’t like speaking it with Yoongi
unless it was to have secret conversations in public—so he often practiced over
Skype.
“/Hey, do you want to see some pics of your new place?/” Namjoon asked him,
pausing to wait for Jimin to stop coughing before continuing. “/I checked it
out with Bang PD-nim today and dropped off some of your things that arrived in
the mail./”
It was only a temporary lease, but Yoongi’s company was setting him up with an
apartment to stay in until he could look for one on his own. He was free to
choose to stay if he liked the apartment, but Yoongi and Jimin had already
discussed it; they knew they would both feel more comfortable picking an
apartment on their own, since Jimin had no connection to the company, and it
felt strange if he was staying in company housing—especially if they had to
keep their relationship secret.
“/Sure,/” Jimin nodded, pulling his blanket closer as he leaned forward. “/
Yoongi-hyung’s just getting his daily intake of caffeine. He’ll be here in a
second./” It didn’t feel as odd adding ‘hyung’ to the end of Yoongi’s name
anymore, but Jimin still preferred to forego it when they were in private. He
didn’t want to accidentally slip up once they got to Korea, though, so he’d
been practicing with Namjoon and Taehyung.
“/How’s he doing, by the way?/” Namjoon’s eyebrows raised in concern. He'd been
filled in on Yoongi's breakdown shortly after it had happened; Yoongi had never
logged in for a scheduled Skype call with him that day. He'd known about
Yoongi's past as well.
Jimin shrugged. “/He’s/—oh, hi,” he broke off, as Yoongi sat down beside him,
shoving him slightly with their proximity, and then pulled the blanket up over
Jimin’s shoulders after he’d set his steaming mug down.
“/Yoongi-hyung’s good,/” Yoongi answered in third person, holding his mug up to
his face and inhaling deeply. “/Did I hear you mention apartment pictures?/”
“/Yeah, yeah,/” Namjoon nodded, and they could see him focusing on something on
his monitor rather than the camera, as he clicked through something on his
computer. “I’ll share screens, okay?/”
Jimin leaned forward to accept the offer to view Namjoon’s screen, and then
they watched as a cursor moved quickly to maximize a folder and begin clicking
through photos.
“/Oh, wow, that’s bigger than I thought it’d be!/” Jimin exclaimed, wincing
slightly as the volume of his own voice triggered a jolt of pain through his
temples.
Namjoon snorted. “/Well it’s not like you’re moving to Japan,/” he pointed out.
“With the rent you’ll be paying, this is pretty good. It’s a two-bedroom, one
bath apartment with a somewhat small kitchen-slash-dining area, and a living
room with a balcony. And it’s only about fifteen minutes from the BigHit
building by car./”
Jimin liked how shiny and new the hardwood floors looked, and said so, only to
have Namjoon laugh at him.
“/That’s not hardwood, Jiminie; that’s a linoleum layer printed to look like
hardwood!/”
“/Oh. Well, it looks nice,/” he amended, feeling embarrassed.
"/It does,/" Yoongi agreed. "/It looks really nice. We've even got a guest
room,/" he joked, since they both knew that the second room was supposed to be
for Jimin. 
Namjoon cracked up. "/That reminds me; we were going to order beds so you have
something to sleep on when you arrive... what do you want to do about that?/" 
Jimin felt a little embarrassed talking about the fact that they sleep
together, even though Namjoon was very much aware that they were in a
relationship, and had continued to treat them exactly the same as he did before
they got together. At least they weren't talking about what Jimin and
Yoongi did in bed together.
Yoongi glanced at Jimin. "/How about buying a full size for one room, and a
twin for the other?/"
Jimin shrugged. "/That's fine with me./"
"/Okay, do you have a preference for which room you want?/" Namjoon scrolled
through the photos again and pointed out two in particular. "/Here's one room.
It has a big window, but a small closet. And this is the other room. It doesn't
have any windows, but there's a walk-in closet attached. The rooms are the same
size./"
"/Jimin? What do you prefer? I honestly don't care,/" Yoongi said.
Jimin looked between the two photos. He liked having morning sunlight, so he
picked the one with the window.
"/Okay! Window it is,/" Namjoon said brightly.
After they ended the call with Namjoon, Jimin curled into Yoongi's right side,
drawing the blanket around both of them. "Did you see the bathroom?" he asked,
voice slightly dreamy.
Yoongi chuckled, and dropped a light kiss onto his warm and slightly sweaty
forehead. "Why, did you like it?"
"Yeah, the tub is so deep," Jimin pointed out. "We could definitely take baths
together without worrying about overflowing the tub," he sighed.
After several minutes he realized he had been dozing off. Yoongi's right hand
was buried in his hair, softly running through the strands and massaging his
scalp with the pads of his fingers. Jimin let out a little whine, and the
fingers paused briefly before resuming. Jimin desperately wanted to kiss
Yoongi, but he didn't want to get him sick, too.
“Why don’t you take a nap, Jimin?” Yoongi suggested. “You’re falling asleep on
me.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Jimin mumbled, snuggling his face
closer into Yoongi’s neck, and pulled his knees up over Yoongi’s lap.
“Well, I do. The floor isn’t exactly the most comfortable.” Always the
realistic one, Yoongi. Jimin loved it and hated it.
“Fine.” Jimin dragged himself to his feet, stumbling a little as a wave of
vertigo hit him.
“Whoa there,” Yoongi seized his bicep with an abruptly strong grip from his
right hand.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jimin waved him off. “I’ll lie down, don’t worry.”
“Good. You need to get better before my family’s Christmas party,” Yoongi
reminded him.
Jimin leaned back into the pillow throne, tugging at his favorite pillow and
allowing Yoongi to pull the blankets up to his chin. He held the back of his
hand to Jimin’s forehead for a moment before pulling away.
“I think your fever’s going down. You’re still warm, but not as much as
before.”
“Mmm.” Jimin let his eyes drift shut. He felt like he was floating. “Do you
think it’ll snow on Christmas? Does it get cold in Seoul?”
“Hmm. Maybe. It definitely gets cold enough. I’ve never been there during
Christmas, though. One year we visited my grandparents in Daegu for Christmas,
but that’s more southern.”
“I want a white Christmas,” Jimin mused. “And carols…and a tree, and…” he
trailed off, remembering his first Christmas with Zoe and Chris. It was the
best Christmas he’d ever had. None of the following years could possibly hold a
candle to it.
It wasn’t that they’d had an overly extravagant Christmas. But the love Jimin
had felt that year had been overwhelming after all of the mediocre ones he’d
had while in the children’s home and foster care. He and his newly adoptive
mother had spent hours in the kitchen together, baking Christmas cookies,
discussing the logistics of Santa—because Jimin had been a loyal believer until
his friends shamed him into finally realizing the truth at the ripe age of
ten—belting out Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You,’ Frank
Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,’ and Bing Crosby’s ‘Mele
Kalikimaka,’ until they’d both lost their voices. Usually Jimin ended their
karaoke session with ‘Oh Holy Night,’ throwing all of his theatrics into it,
with emotional hand gestures and facial expressions as he danced around the
kitchen with a spatula as a microphone.
He and Chris had decorated a gingerbread house together—Jimin’s first ever—and
ended up eating half of the candy before they even had a chance to get it onto
the house. His mother had scolded them for several minutes before sighing and
telling them to just make sure they cleaned up the mess afterward. They’d even
gone to a Christmas tree farm to cut down their own tree that year. They told
Jimin to pick it out, and he’d chosen the fattest, fullest tree he could find.
It barely fit in their living room once they got home, and Chris ended up
having to give the tree a minor haircut before they were able to get the star
on top and deck it out with lights and ornaments. (The following year they just
bought a pre-cut tree to avoid that situation from happening again.)
“Jimin?” There was a hand on his cheek. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”
He opened his eyes to blink up at a blurry Yoongi hovering over him, looking
concerned. A small sob broke from him, and he pushed his face into Yoongi’s
stomach.
He missed them so much. Before everything changed. Before they stopped being a
family. When he was younger, he had missed his real parents, but after so many
years had passed, and his earliest childhood memories had nearly all faded, it
was only a dull feeling in the back of his mind. But this, this was cruelly
fresh.
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked again. “Jiminie?” But Jimin just shook his head,
smothering himself against Yoongi’s stomach. “You’re scaring me. Please tell me
what’s wrong?” He rubbed circles into Jimin’s back.
“I miss my family,” he finally choked out after a few minutes of soaking
Yoongi’s shirt with his tears.
“Your…? Oh.”
Yoongi pulled Jimin up and close, clearly forcing extra strength into his good
arm. Jimin tried to avoid the arm folded between them. He pressed his forehead
into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and fisted his fingers in Yoongi’s shirt.
“Jimin, I know you miss them. But you don’t need to. Your family is right here.
And it always will be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
 
A few days before the Min family Christmas party, Jimin went shopping for
Yoongi’s gift. He’d told Yoongi he was picking up a short shift at work to help
make up for the ones he missed when he was sick, but instead of going to work,
he headed to the mall. Jimin had no idea what to get him, and ended up wasting
a good two hours meandering through various shops. With the big move coming up
in a handful of days, and with nearly everything already packed except the
clothes they were wearing, not to mention all of the random stuff they were
passing off to Yoongi’s family, Jimin really didn’t want to add to their
luggage.
It was as he was browsing listlessly through the winter clothing selection that
he finally got an idea. Although Yoongi hadn’t mentioned it, Jimin was sure
that people would be wearing nice clothes at the party. Most of Yoongi’s
clothing was very casual, so Jimin thought it would be good to get him
something nice to wear. Now with a clear goal in mind, Jimin began to look
through the dressier pieces of clothing. He couldn’t imagine Yoongi wearing
half of the holiday sweaters they had available, though, so he moved on to a
fancier, more expensive store and browsed through their men’s winter section.
Finally, he found the perfect gift. A high quality black sweater that would
look great on Yoongi. It was nice enough to wear for a special occasion, but
casual enough that he could wear it whenever. Sure, Yoongi had enough black in
his wardrobe, but Jimin wasn’t about to start giving him fashion advice.
He got the sweater gift-wrapped at the register, because there was no way he
would be able to hide it once he got home.
“Would you like to write a short message in one of the complimentary cards we
have available?” the cashier asked him as she carefully wrapped it far more
beautifully than he could have himself.
“Uh, sure. These ones?” he asked, indicating the small credit-card sized cards
on display in front of the register. When she nodded, he picked out the least
sparkly one and borrowed a pen to write a quick message.
On his way out of the mall, he passed a hair salon, and paused. He was getting
tired of his black hair. It had been the longest amount of time with the same
hair color, and he was itching for a change. He quickly glanced at the time on
his phone. He’d been shopping for long enough to count as a “short shift,” so
he could just claim to have stopped by a salon after work. He put his phone
back in his pocket and walked into the heavily scented salon.
“Do you take walk-ins?” he asked, flashing the girl at the counter his best
smile. She blushed and looked down at the list of names.
“Um, I think there’s an opening in a bit, if you don’t mind waiting?”
He shook his head. “That’s fine.”
“Great! What’s your name?”
“Jimin.”
“Jimmy? Is that J-i-m-m-y?”
He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke past his lips, but he didn’t correct
her. “Yeah. Uh, that’s perfect.”
“Okay, and what are you wanting to get done today?”
“I wanted to color my hair. And maybe get a little trim, but not much. Just to
keep it healthy, you know?”
“Yeah, of course. Any colors in mind?”
“Ummm, do you have one of those swatch books?”
“Yes, of course. Here you go.” She handed him the heavy binder with the clips
of fake dyed hair. He bypassed the crazy colors and sifted through the browns.
He knew he wanted brown, but he wasn’t sure which kind yet.
In the end he decided on a dark but warm chestnut-brown dye and had it trimmed
close in the back as well as shortened his bangs quite a bit, leaving it much
lighter and fluffier than before. It left him feeling light-headed and young.
On impulse, he bought a pair of fake, thick-rimmed glasses, feeling a little
like he was in disguise. It was exhilarating.  
To his delight, Yoongi reacted well to his new look.
“Nice glasses. I thought you were at work?” he raised his eyebrows, lips
quirking up slightly, eyes laughing at him as he ran his fingers through it,
lingering at the back of Jimin’s neck. But Jimin wouldn’t be tricked.
“I was. But I felt like stopping by the hair salon on my way home. You like
it?”
Yoongi smiled and nodded. “It looks good on you. Even if you are copying me.”
Jimin pouted. “Am not. Your hair is—”
He was cut off by Yoongi’s mouth on his, and he stumbled back slightly, bumping
into the kitchen counter. When they broke away a moment later, lips
significantly wetter and redder than before, Yoongi pinched the back of his
neck.
“I’m just teasing. I love it.”
Jimin pulled him back for another, deeper kiss.
 
On the afternoon of the party just before they started getting ready, Jimin
pulled Yoongi aside.
“I want to give you your gift early,” he said, suddenly feeling shy for some
reason. He realized it was the first time he’d ever given Yoongi anything.
“Oh.” Yoongi looked startled. “Uh, any reason?”
Jimin just crinkled his eyes and pushed the package into his hands. “Just open
it. You’ll see why.”
Yoongi examined the package, eyes widening slightly as he saw the brand name on
the gift wrap, glancing between it and Jimin, before he tugged off the tiny
card and gently ripped it open. He read it silently, but Jimin followed his
eyes across each line.
                                 Dear Yoongi,
                      I’d write a sappy message in here,
                     but I think I don’t need to, because
                                  …you know.
                                  Merry X-mas
                                  Love, Jimin
Yoongi looked up, eyes warm. His voice was low, barely audible, when he spoke.
“I know.”
Jimin startled slightly, face heating up. He hadn’t expected him to respond
like that to it. “Just open it,” he urged.
Yoongi had a little trouble undoing the wrapping, so Jimin gave him an extra
hand. When he finally revealed the sweater, he looked surprised.
“Jimin…” he breathed, opening it up with Jimin’s help. “This is…wow, this is
really…you shouldn’t have spent this much on me,” he finished, looking really
moved. It had been a bit expensive, but Jimin almost never spent his hard-
earned money, and he thought Yoongi was worth it.
“I wanted to,” was all he said, though. “And I want you to wear it tonight.”
Yoongi set the sweater down on the counter. “In that case…shall I give you your
gift early, as well?”
“Oh,” Jimin began, surprised. “You don’t have to. I just…I just wanted you to
have something nice for tonight, since everything’s packed or gone.”
Yoongi waved his hand dismissively. “No. I want you to have it now.”
His gift was a lot smaller than Jimin’s sweater. It looked suspiciously like a
jewelry box, making Jimin a little nervous as he took it from Yoongi.
“I don’t have a card, sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t really do cards or
letters.”
Jimin nodded. “That’s okay.”
He unwrapped the thin box (“Just so you know, Hobi did the wrapping for me, so
if you think it’s ugly, blame it on him”) and slowly slid the lid off.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Jimin breathed, when he saw the silver necklace inside.
It had a simple chain, with a flame ring latched between the two sides. It was
fancy but not flashy or obnoxious, and Jimin was very thankful that there were
no gemstones.
“There’s also—” Yoongi reached forward to push at the cushioning, where a pair
of earrings had slipped behind. “They’re not really matching, but they sort of
match?” he said somewhat awkwardly, scratching at his neck. The earrings, also
silver, were asymmetrical, one a simple thin hoop, the other with long chains
dangling from the hoop. “I noticed you like wearing jewelry, but I wasn’t sure
what—”
“I love them,” Jimin cut him off, trying to save him the agony. Apparently
Yoongi wasn’t good at giving sentimental gifts to people. “They’re perfect,” he
continued. He picked up the necklace and immediately latched it around his
neck, liking the way it felt, cool and heavy against his collarbone. “Thank
you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss him slowly.  After a moment he pulled
back slightly, lips still resting against Yoongi’s. “You should try on your
sweater.” He stole another quick peck before drawing back completely.
“All right.”
He helped remove the sling and gently pull off Yoongi’s shirt. “As much as I
love the idea of you wearing nothing under this sweater, you probably should
wear something,” he joked, running his fingers down the center of Yoongi’s
chest. “Where are your dark undershirts?”
It didn’t take long for them to get ready, and their Uber was right on time.
Traffic was awful going to Yoongi’s parents’ house, but at least they could
just sit back and relax in the backseat of the Uber, conversing in Korean to
keep their conversation private from the driver.
 The Mins’ house was decked out for Christmas, although it was simple; a fresh
wreath on the front door, a trimmed Christmas tree in the front window, and a
simple Nativity scene set above the fireplace mantel. Christmas songs were
playing on the stereo, and a menagerie of warm, delicious smells enveloped them
as they walked into the house.
Joongi greeted them first, his girlfriend Hayi by his side. She gave Yoongi a
quick hug, complimenting him on how he had “cleaned up nicely,” and then she
smiled and shook Jimin’s hand as they were introduced. She seemed to already be
aware of the fact that Jimin and Yoongi were an item; when she shook his hand,
she leaned forward a little and whispered, “You two look good together,” which,
other than cause him to turn a little pink, also made him wonder about what
there was to hold Yoongi back now that it seemed like his entire family knew
without him even telling. 
Jimin thoroughly enjoyed the evening. While Yoongi, Joongi and Mr. Min were in
the living room discussing Yoongi’s future career, Mrs. Min drew Jimin into the
kitchen with her and Hayi as they prepared the table to eat.
“Are you all packed and ready to go?” Mrs. Min asked him as she handed him a
plate of steaming scallops to bring over to the table.
“Just about,” he replied. He watched as Hayi brought out the wine, setting it
at one end of the table. There were wine glasses at all six places.
As always, Mrs. Min picked up on more than one would guess. “Jimin, you’re
welcome to have a glass of wine with the rest of us. It’s the holidays.”
“Oh. Thank you. I’d like that.” He’d tasted wine before when he still lived
with Chris, so it wasn’t like it would be the first time.
“Are you excited?” Hayi asked.
“Excited?” Jimin frowned. “For Korea, you mean?” She nodded. “Yeah, I guess.
More nervous than excited, though, I think.”
“You’ll be fine,” Mrs. Min assured him.
Dinner was delicious, with lots of laughter and refills of wine. Jimin could
feel the flush in his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Sitting beside
Yoongi, it was difficult to keep from leaning into him and locking their
fingers together. Yoongi pulled away the first few times, but then seemed to
give up, allowing Jimin to take his hand and play with it under the table until
he wanted to use it to reach for his glass.
Jimin giggled as Yoongi tried to free his hand to take the plate of apple pie
Mrs. Min was holding out for him, and just held on tighter.
“Jimin, come on,” Yoongi scolded him, obviously only pretending to be annoyed,
but Jimin could hear the amusement in his voice. “Eomma, you shouldn’t have let
him drink so much!”
“Maybe you should get some fresh air,” Joongi suggested. “Just a couple minutes
on the porch to clear his head a little?”
“Joongi! It’s cold out there!” Hayi protested.
“No,” Yoongi broke in, “I think that’s a good idea. We can eat dessert when we
get back. Come on, Jimin.”
Jimin let himself be pulled to his feet, and he giggled again when he tripped
slightly, bumping into Yoongi’s side.
“I’m sorry,” he tried saying, but he couldn’t get his voice to sound
apologetic.
“It’s fine, Jimin, don’t worry about it,” he murmured. “Let’s go see if we can
see any stars, okay?”
It was chilly outside; Jimin’s breath caught in his chest, and he quickly
turned to wrap his arms around Yoongi, pressing close. The cold stilled his
giddiness, but not the overwhelming happiness and love he currently felt.
“Yoongi,” he hummed, resting his cheek against his shoulder as he gazed up at
the sky.
“Jimin.”
He watched the cloud of air leave Yoongi’s lips, droplets of moisture
glistening briefly before disappearing. Jimin straightened, only one thing in
mind. He met Yoongi’s eyes silently for a long moment, the heat from the
alcohol keeping his insides warm even as he shivered in the December night air.
“I love you,” he whispered, and then leaned forward, closing his eyes.
Yoongi tasted of wine and cranberries, and Jimin licked into his mouth, trying
to take it all in. Yoongi’s hand was at his back, holding him steady and close.
He shifted his head slightly, making it easier for their mouths to fit
together. He took control, pushing Jimin’s tongue back into his own mouth,
drawing a soft whimper from him.
The sound seemed to startle some sense into Yoongi, and he gently broke the
kiss, despite Jimin trying to steal another one. With a sigh, Jimin let his
head fall back to Yoongi’s shoulder. He listened to the muffled Christmas music
playing inside. He could tell it was ‘What Child is This,’ even though he
couldn’t tell if there were lyrics or if it was just an instrumental rendition.
Without thinking, he swayed slightly to the music, pressing his forehead
against Yoongi’s neck. He felt the other man’s chin come down to rest on the
top of his head, and Jimin moved his right hand up from around Yoongi’s waist
to wrap around his left hand in the sling. Yoongi curled his fingers around
his, and Jimin let out a big sigh as they stayed that way for several minutes,
silently listening to the music switch to ‘Silent Night’ and moving gently back
and forth together.
There was click as the porch door opened, and Jimin whined and clutched Yoongi
tighter when he felt Yoongi try to push him away.
“/Oh—no, no, please don’t stop on my account./” It was Yoongi’s mother, and she
was holding a thick, woolen throw blanket in her hands. “/I just thought you
might want something to stay warm./” She reached up to drape the blanket around
Yoongi’s shoulders and pull it tightly around Jimin as well. She ran her
fingers through Jimin’s hair, causing him to smile happily at her before
letting his eyes flutter shut. He heard her give Yoongi a peck on the cheek.
“Eomma….”
“/Not now, Yoongi-yah. We can talk later about your inability to keep a secret.
Be with him right now. Just know that we’re happy for you both./”
After she went back inside, Jimin giggled. “I love your mom.”
Yoongi coughed. “I do too.” He was quiet for a moment. “You do realize what
just happened, right?”
“Mmm?”
“We were caught.”
“Caught? Doing what? I’m not doing anything right now,” Jimin grumbled as he
pressed himself tightly against the other man, trying to get the blanket to
cover his ears.
“Yes you are,” Yoongi pinched his side. “She caught us snuggling.”
“Heh. I like snuggling. It’s nice. And you’re warm.”
“Are you cold? Do you want to go back in now?”
“No, I want to be with you forever and ever,” Jimin mumbled, latching onto
Yoongi’s neck and kissing him wetly.
“Hey, no marks,” Yoongi warned him, making more of an effort to dislodge him.
“’M not. Promise.”
They eventually went back inside once Jimin’s giggles went away and he was
feeling a little more self-conscious about what Mrs. Min had witnessed.
“Are you two lovebirds frozen yet?” Joongi teased the moment they walked into
the living room where everyone had retired, having finished their dessert long
ago.
“Hyung,” Yoongi protested, eyes wide as he paused in folding up the blanket.
Jimin covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. This wasn’t how he
wanted to come out to Yoongi’s parents. And it was his fault. But maybe it was
for the best. Yoongi needed a kick in the right direction sometimes, and it
seemed like this was one of those times.
“He’s right, Yoongi-yah,” Mr. Min sighed, sounding both tired and amused.
“You’re not fooling anyone.”
Yoongi groaned and dropped to the sofa. “This is so embarrassing.”
Jimin hovered by the side of the sofa, unsure what to do. Hayi got up and went
back into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with their two plates of pie.
Jimin thanked her and took his, finally sitting down beside Yoongi on the sofa,
but leaving several inches between them.
“We’ve been waiting for you to tell us,” Yoongi’s mother spoke. “We’ve been
trying to give you hints that we were supportive of you, but you just never
seem to pick up on them.”
“I was going to tell you,” Yoongi admitted. “I just couldn’t decide when. I was
going to do it soon. I really was. I just kept chickening out.”
“We’ve suspected for a while,” Mr. Min pointed out. “But when you got into your
accident, we knew.”
Once the awkwardness and embarrassment wore off, the rest of the evening went
very well. Jimin was happy to be able to stay close to Yoongi without hiding,
even though Yoongi still seemed a little self-conscious about it, and kept the
touching to a minimum.
At the end of the night as they were saying their goodbyes, Mrs. Min held Jimin
close and whispered into his ear. “Take care of Yoongi for me?”
Jimin smiled. “Of course,” he whispered back. “He’ll be in good hands.”
She let go and then raised her voice, turning to her son. “You take care of
Jimin, understand?” her voice was mock-stern. “I don’t want to hear that he’s
been left on his own once you start getting obsessed with your music and lock
yourself in your studio. Because I know you’re going to do that.”
“Eomma. I wouldn’t do that,” Yoongi insisted. “Right, Jiminie?”
Jimin found himself blushing and looking down at his feet for some reason. When
he looked up, Mrs. Min was smiling fondly at him. “I love you both so much,”
she sighed, with an almost exasperated tone of voice. “It won’t be the same
with you both so far awa—oh! Oh no, dear, please don’t cry!”
Jimin startled as he was suddenly enveloped by her arms again, and realized in
embarrassment that his eyes had watered. He was going to miss her, too. He let
himself be wrapped in her loving embrace, taking in the motherly warmth that he
had been deprived of for so long. He held her tightly, letting his chin fall
onto her shoulder.
“I swear he’s going to steal you from me someday,” Yoongi joked.
Eventually they made it to the front step, back out in the cold, their Uber
ride waiting in the driveway.
“Merry Christmas, you two. Here are some cookies to take with you. You should
share them with Namjoon-ah. We already sent off your Christmas package to
Seoul, so it should arrive around the same time you do.” 
 
Finally, the day came. Their flight was first thing in the morning; so early,
in fact, that they decided to stay overnight in the hotel right by the airport
the night before. Their hotel room was packed with suitcases, and Yoongi’s
equipment was getting delivered to the airport so they could check it all
before leaving. They had thought they could handle it themselves, but with
Yoongi’s shoulder still healing, pushing the carts and carrying luggage was out
of the question; Jimin couldn’t do it all himself.
“Ah, I forgot how nice it is to sleep on a real bed,” Yoongi sighed, sitting at
the foot of the bed.
Jimin laughed and leaned over to kiss him lightly. “Me too.” He felt fidgety,
and looked for something to do.
“Hey, are you all right?” Yoongi asked, suddenly.
“Yeah, I just…it feels weird knowing I’m going back to Korea, even though I
don’t remember it at all. I’m just nervous, I guess.”
Yoongi nodded. “Understandable.” He smiled warmly up at him. “You’ll be fine,
don’t worry. The only thing we need to worry about now is all that luggage,” he
laughed.
“Yeah. Good thing Namjoon-hyung said he’d meet us at the airport with a ride
and some help to carry everything.”
After Jimin had checked everything to make sure they hadn’t misplaced or lost
anything on their way to the hotel, he turned to Yoongi.
"I'm gonna go get some ice. You want anything? A soda or whatever?" he asked as
he grabbed the ice bucket from the counter and pocketed his room key.
"Nah, I'm good. There's a coffee maker right here."
Jimin snorted. "Okay. Be right back." 
Swinging the ice bucket by the handle, Jimin strolled down the hallway toward
the ice machine. It was all the way down at the other end of the adjacent
hallway, because this was a cheap hotel, and there was only one machine per
floor. Jimin hummed quietly to himself, thinking about their flight in the
morning. 
He was an even mix of excited and nervous. He could barely remember the last
time he'd been on an airplane—it had been when he went to visit his
grandparents in Florida for Christmas when he was eleven—but he remembered not
enjoying take-off or landing when his ears popped painfully and the plane hit
bad turbulence on their descent.
He hoped he'd be able to sleep on the plane. They couldn't afford anything
above economy level tickets, and he’d heard that the seats were usually
cramped. He knew Yoongi probably wouldn’t have a problem; he could sleep
anywhere, at any time.
His musings were interrupted when he finally reached the small alcove where the
vending machines were kept. Someone was already at the ice machine, so Jimin
hung back a little to wait as the man filled up his bucket. It only took him a
few seconds of disinterested observation to realize the back of the man looked
familiar. The shoulders, the head, even the posture—Jimin would never forget
them.
He took a small step back just as the man finished filling his bucket and
turned. Their eyes locked, and it was like all of the air was sucked out of
Jimin’s lungs.
Chris’s eyes had widened in surprise at first, but quickly narrowed, an ugly
smirk twisting the corners of his mouth.
“Well isn’t this a lucky coincidence,” he said, and Jimin dropped the empty
bucket he was holding.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he gasped out as he turned on his heel and bolted. He heard
a loud thud and crash as ice hit the ground, scattering everywhere.
“Don’t run from me, you little fucker!” Chris was right behind him. Jimin
turned the corner, nearly hitting the opposite wall as he made the sharp turn
into his and Yoongi’s hallway. He pushed himself off it and sprinted forward.
Thirty feet from their door, Chris’s hand caught the back of his shirt, pulling
him up short.
“YOONGI!” Jimin shrieked, turning to push and pry at Chris’s fingers, but only
succeeding in getting his arm snatched. “No, let GO OF ME!” He kicked and got
free for a split second, only to be seized by the hair. He screamed, this time
without words, as he fell hard to his knees on the ground, grabbing onto
Chris’s hand to lessen the pull on his hair. “YOONGI!”
Their door flew open, and Yoongi stumbled out, looking like he’d seen a ghost.
“Jimin!” He sprinted toward them, fury taking over his features. He caught up
quickly, but with his broken shoulder he was no match for Chris, especially
with the larger man possessed by such bitter anger and vengefulness.
“Let him go, you fucking piece of shit!” Yoongi was thrown off, hitting the
wall with a loud cry of pain, and Chris began dragging Jimin down the hallway
from where they’d come.
“Goddammit! Somebody, help!” Yoongi resorted to shouting over Jimin’s pained
cries as he kicked and scratched at Chris’s arms that were trapping him.
Jimin just barely heard a door down the hallway slam shut, and a second later
he was roughly thrown to the side as someone grabbed Chris by the shoulder,
wrenching him around and socking him in the face. He didn’t let go of Jimin,
though, as he retaliated against the stranger.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” a woman’s voice shouted, and Jimin realized
suddenly that the stranger was not a man, but a woman, and she was somehow not
only holding her own against Chris, but she appeared to be winning the fight.
She caught Chris in a headlock, and Yoongi took the opportunity to pry Chris’s
fingers from around Jimin’s hair, setting him free. The instant Jimin was out
of the way, the woman moved quickly, pulling Chris’s arms behind his back and
forcing him down to the floor as she twisted his limbs painfully to subdue him.
“Call the police,” she shouted at Yoongi, who immediately pulled out his phone.
Jimin lay sprawled against the wall by his feet, heaving as his heart ran into
overdrive. He didn’t really hear what Yoongi was saying into the phone. All he
could see was Chris struggling against the woman, his face pushed into the
carpet. He was swearing at Jimin and Yoongi in a way that Jimin had never seen
before. It was like he was overcome by such extreme anger at Jimin and Yoongi
that he couldn’t see straight. Jimin abruptly realized that Chris probably
would have killed him if he’d been able to.
He shivered and backed into Yoongi’s legs, reflexively latching onto one of
them. He didn’t realize he was sobbing loudly and shaking until Yoongi crouched
down to pull him up into a more comfortable sitting position against the wall.
He used his good hand to hold the side of Jimin’s face, forcing him to look up
at him and quiet down.
“Jimin. Jimin, you’re okay. It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
The doors to the stairwell swung open, and a hotel manager exited, followed by
two police officers. It was too fast to have been from Yoongi’s call, so
someone else in one of the rooms along the hall must have called. Yoongi
straightened up and went to greet them. Jimin couldn’t stop staring at Chris’s
face. He was quiet now, but he was staring unblinkingly up at Jimin with
nothing but hatred in his eyes. For many years, Chris had cared for Jimin, but
now there wasn’t an ounce of compassion in his face.
The police officers helped relieve the woman of Chris, and Jimin was only
vaguely aware of their conversation; she was a service member on her way home
to visit family for the holidays. The police took a brief statement from her,
and wrote down her contact information, thanking her for her service and
assistance. Jimin tried to pull himself out of his cocoon of self-imposed
silence when the woman bent down to check if he was okay, but he couldn’t do
much more than tremble. Chris wasn’t even in the hallway anymore; he’d been
handcuffed and taken away. But Jimin still stared at the place on the carpet
where he’d been subdued.
“He’s in shock,” he heard her say, from far away, even though her face was
directly in front of his.
“We’re going to need a statement from him,” one of the police officers said.
The number of people standing in front of him increased, and Jimin flinched,
drawing his knees up to his chest and scrambling back. Where was Yoongi? Why
was everyone staring at him?
A warm, sturdy hand touched his shoulder, pressing down and massaging his tense
muscles. Jimin blinked and slowly turned to look up at Yoongi.
“Hey, there,” he said softly. “Are you back with us?”
Jimin wanted to throw himself into Yoongi’s arms, but there were people all
around. He wanted them to leave.
“/Too many people looking at me,/” he whispered, switching to Korean and
fighting the tears now that he was starting to be more aware of himself. “/
I don’t want them to look at me./”
Yoongi nodded, and then turned to the officers, lowering his voice. “Can we
move somewhere more private? He’s uncomfortable with so many people here.”
“Of course.”
 
“Can you tell me what exactly happened, young man?”
“I was…getting ice, and he was there. And then I tried to run, but he caught
me.”
“Do you know that man?”
“Yes.”
“What is your relationship to him?”
“He’s…my father.”
“Adopted,” Yoongi added. “He was adopted.”
“Yes, thank you. And can you tell me why you were running from your father?”
“I, I…he…do I have to?” Jimin looked up, pleading with his eyes.
“If he did anything to you, we need to know. I’m sorry if it seems
inconsiderate, but that’s the only way we’re going to get any justice.”
Jimin took a deep, shuddering breath, holding it in for several seconds before
letting it go slowly.
“He’s been forcing me to have sex with strangers for money, for porn,” he
summarized in the briefest way possible. “Since I was a teenager. And he’s
raped me. I finally escaped this year.”
The officer was scribbling quickly, lips pursed. His entire demeanor had
changed, become more serious than when he’d probably thought he was just
dealing with an isolated attack.
“If there is an investigation, or trial, you may need to—”
“We’re leaving the country early tomorrow morning, though,” Jimin interrupted.
“We’re moving back to South Korea. We’ve got our visas and everything. I can’t
stay. I won’t stay.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to force you to stay here. I’m just saying that
we’ll have to have a way to keep in touch with you in case anything is needed.”
 
After they returned to their room a while later, it was quiet. Jimin couldn’t
name the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t feel happy, or even relieved. Maybe
he was still in shock. Or disbelief at what had happened. They were still
leaving the country. That hadn’t changed. But now, it felt like Jimin wasn’t
running from anything anymore. That shadow lurking at the back of his mind was
gone.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said softly. “Come here.” He held his hand out to him, and
Jimin let himself fall against him.
“You’re free.”
“I’m free. I’m free.”
“Yes.” Yoongi lifted his chin and caught his lips with his own.
They backed up onto the bed, slowly removing their clothes and barely
disconnecting their mouths the entire time. Yoongi climbed over Jimin, using
his good arm to hold Jimin, his thumb brushing the spot just by his ear,
fingers at the back of his neck to hold him up. They quietly made love, with
soft touches and deep kisses. Jimin let himself feel everything, his high gasps
and hitched breaths blanketing them in the near-darkness. He let Yoongi take
care of him, he let him erase all of the pain, all of the fear. And when they
came, Jimin first, with Yoongi following shortly after, they lay together just
breathing heavily in each other’s arms.
They washed up and climbed back into bed, setting every alarm they had for two
in the morning before curling up together.
 
It seemed like the next second the alarms were going off.
Jimin felt nauseous at the lack of sleep. Their journey through the airport
seemed like a blur. It was confusing and a huge pain making sure they had all
of the giant boxes of music equipment accounted for at the check-in counter,
but finally everything was on the other side and they wouldn’t have to worry
about it until they reached South Korea, when they would have Namjoon to help.
Yoongi had to get an extra pat-down and go through the x-ray machine rather
than just the metal detector because of his sling, to make sure he wasn’t
hiding anything dangerous, and Jimin waited on the other side of security for
him. Yoongi slept most of the flight, while Jimin watched movies and listened
to music, but he had trouble sleeping. He maneuvered his blanket over Yoongi so
that the edges of both blankets overlapped, and he reached underneath to
intertwine their fingers. He finally drifted off to sleep, his head on Yoongi’s
shoulder.
 
 
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed at Incheon International Airport. The
local time is eleven twenty-two AM, Wednesday, December twenty-third. The
weather is partly sunny and mild, with a current temperature of seven degrees
Celcius, or forty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Please remain seated until the
captain turns off the seatbelt sign. Be careful opening the overhead bins, as
the contents may have shifted during the flight. Please remember to take all of
your belongings. Thank you for choosing Korean Air, a member of SkyTeam, and we
hope to see you again.”
 
 
Jimin squinted into the light as they walked up the bridge from the plane.
Jimin had Yoongi’s bag over one shoulder, his own duffel bag in the other hand.
He’d refused when Yoongi tried to carry it. Yoongi had pulled down his favorite
black snapback to shade his tired eyes, and was walking just ahead of him.
It felt unreal. Suddenly everyone was speaking Korean around him, all of the
signs were written in Hangul with English as a second thought. They collected
their luggage, struggled to push it through immigration and customs in a daze,
handing over their passports and visas and swearing that they didn’t have any
contraband hidden in all of their music equipment.
At long last, they were waved through customs, and they followed the stream of
other passengers through the wide doors. A crowd of people was waiting on the
other side, and the volume around them rose. Families, friends, coworkers,
lovers. All waiting to greet their anticipated counterparts.
 
“Jimin-ah! Yoongi-hyung!”
They both turned toward the deep, unexpected voice. Taehyung was standing next
to Namjoon, smiling and waving his arms like a crazy fan trying to get the
attention of their favorite popstar. Namjoon grinned and lifted his hand in
greeting.
Jimin beamed, pushing the heavy cart over to them and letting Taehyung lift him
up in a bone-crushing hug.
“/Welcome to Korea, Jimin-ah! I missed you so, so much!!/”
Jimin laughed, coughing slightly as he was released and he got his feet back on
the ground.
“/I missed you, too, Tae./”
 
Jimin caught Yoongi’s eyes and felt like he couldn’t smile any wider.
Maybe things would be all right, after all.
 
 
The End.
.
.
.
.
.
 
(Is Just a New Beginning.)
.
.
Chapter End Notes
     I can't believe it. We made it. I'm having trouble forming thoughts
     right now, so I'll save those for at the end of the epilogue. <3
     Oh, and I just have to say that the slow dance with Yoongi wasn’t my
     idea. That idea was planted in my head by the wonderful Iio-chan (who
     supported me so much through the end of this monster of a story,
     thank youuuu), and the idea refused to leave until I included it. I'm
     not sure if it's what she was imagining when she mentioned it, but
     that's the way it turned out, lol.
     Stay tuned for the Epilogue!
     Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time, and please
     don't forget to leave a comment! I'd love to know what you think!
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
     I sincerely apologize for the way longer wait than usual…nearly an
     entire month has passed. I’m not going to go into all the reasons why
     it took so long; there were many, and you can probably guess at least
     one of them, which shook up the entire kpop world mid-December. But
     finally the epilogue is here, and I hope it’s worth the wait! I was
     so emotional writing this—laughing and crying, and getting so excited
     to share it with you all.
     Warnings—no new tags, but just a reminder that they are in place…but
     yeah, we’ve got some dirty sex in this chapter, and some laughs, and
     some touching moments...enjoy!
     Music to guide your way:
     Nell, ‘Perfect’ (holy crap, the lyrics, the tone, everything fits
     this SO WELL) https://youtu.be/pc5f6H8IxFQ
     Michael FK & G. Strizzolo, 'Math' (Michael FK Version) https://
     youtu.be/C21Zt-Qr7SU
     Yal!x, ‘I’ll go on’ https://youtu.be/PpeoIQKwoHA
     Yal!x & Michael FK, 'The World Can Wait' https://youtu.be/OR_7G-oAPq4
     Kisnou & Blure, 'Falling Deeper' https://youtu.be/bG11RwQZ3ds
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Epilogue Part I
 
Jimin looked down at the card in his hand, hardly able to believe it. He kept
putting it back into his wallet and then taking it out again, just to make sure
it was still there. To make sure it was real. Every time he saw it, he couldn’t
help the small smile that stretched his lips.
He was currently sitting on one of the chairs in Big Hit’s company waiting
room—more like a hallway, to be completely honest—while he waited for Yoongi to
finish up with some recording work. He’d been waiting for quite a while
already, and was practically buzzing with impatience in his seat, but if he had
to wait for Yoongi, he could wait.
The door clicked open, and he practically leapt from his seat, before falling
back and ducking his head in embarrassment. It wasn’t Yoongi, but whichever
singer he’d been working with. She noticed him and bowed slightly in
acknowledgement, but didn’t really say anything other than the typical greeting
after finishing work. Jimin was a common face around these parts of the
building, but most of the singers didn’t know what his connection to the
company was, so he knew they were just playing it safe by showing him respect.
They probably thought he was a songwriter or music video editor. Truth be told,
he had recorded songs in the building before, but it was usually at odd hours,
and with only Yoongi or Namjoon present, or occasionally their boss, Bang
Shihyuk. Yoongi liked to jokingly call Jimin a “freelance singer;” it was a
little unusual, but Jimin still felt uncomfortable being under any kind of
spotlight, so whenever Yoongi just had to have Jimin’s voice on a track, it was
done anonymously. The vocal credits went to ‘JM,’ mostly to keep people from
complaining that no credit was given at all.
When it seemed like no one else was coming out of the room, Jimin stood up and
carefully knocked before opening the door. 
"Yoongi-hyung?"
Yoongi looked up from his seat at the computer. He looked exhausted, but a
warmth shined from his eyes that Jimin liked to think only he could cause.
"Jimin." He raised his hand to beckon him over. "Lock the door, will you?"
Jimin did so, before walking over and letting himself be drawn into Yoongi's
arms. Yoongi hummed and pressed his face into Jimin's neck, breathing in and
holding him tightly. 
"Miss me?" Jimin teased.
"I've been so strung out over this singer's album. Sometimes it seems like it's
going perfectly, but then there's days like today when we have to go over the
same fucking part again and again and…. Ugh. I needed this." He held Jimin even
tighter, gently rocking him side to side.
"I have something to show you; do you want to see?" Jimin started to pull away
so he could reach his wallet. Once again, he took out the card, barely holding
in his wide smile as he handed it to Yoongi. 
"Park Jimin," the producer read aloud. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the
card silently.
"Read it again," Jimin demanded, the giddiness starting to show. 
Yoongi's lips quirked, and he said it more slowly this time. "Park. Ji. Min."
He laughed when Jimin did a little dance in the small space of the recording
studio. "I like the sound of it," he said, handing the card back. 
Jimin couldn't contain himself, and tugged Yoongi close to kiss him deeply,
tasting the bitter coffee on his tongue. "It's my name," he said, once they
pulled apart. "My real name."
"We should celebrate," Yoongi nodded, and moved to begin collecting his
belongings, saving everything on the computer before locking it and turning
back to Jimin. "How about we pick up a bottle of wine on our way home?"
Yoongi tugged on his typical black mask and pulled his hood up; the necessities
of being famous, even if it was only within a certain kind of crowd. He’d told
Jimin on more than one occasion that he didn’t care if he was seen with ugly
bags under his eyes, or messy bed head, or five o’clock (AM) shadow, but he did
it so that Jimin didn’t have to hide. These days, there wasn’t really any
concern about anyone finding or doing anything to Jimin—they knew that Chris
had been sentenced to several years in prison, and most of Jimin’s viewers had
been in the States anyway—but Jimin still felt better without cameras on him.
If no one saw Yoongi, no one noticed Jimin.
They took a while to decide on the wine, but in the end came to an agreement on
a bottle of red wine. Nothing particularly special, but it was one they both
liked.
 
The wine bottle sat on the coffee table, empty. Two glasses, of varying degrees
of emptiness, rested nearby. The living room was quiet, other than the soft,
wet sound of lips and tongues moving against each other. The Seoul night
skyline, broken only by the dark shadow of the Han River, sparkled down below
through the windows. Jimin felt warm, and so, so loved as he pulled Yoongi
close, leaning back on the sofa.
“Let me make you feel good tonight,” Yoongi whispered, starting to pull Jimin’s
shirt up and undo his jeans.
Jimin smiled. “You always make me feel good, hyung,” he pointed out as he
helped tug his shirt off. He’d gotten so used to using ‘hyung’ that it had
started to feel almost like a term of endearment to him. Before, he hadn’t
understood that using it didn’t mean Yoongi was any less close to him, even
though he knew that if someone senior to him allowed him to drop the honorific,
that was a significant show of closeness and trust. Jimin had a feeling that
Yoongi liked it both when Jimin dropped the ‘hyung,’ and when he used it on its
own, without his name attached.
“Yes, but tonight I just want you to let me take care of you. Reward you for
your hard work.” Yoongi’s lips quirked. “You really do work too hard, you
know.” Jimin was infamous for late-night dance practices, coming home with sore
muscles, needing nothing but to curl into Yoongi’s side and cuddle him—unless
Yoongi was awake enough to give him a massage.
“Says the man who locks himself in his studio until god knows what time in the
morning,” Jimin retorted, flicking him lightly on the forehead.
“Shh. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
And then Jimin could only gasp as Yoongi yanked hard on his jeans to pull them
and his boxers down at once. Yoongi was still fully dressed, but Jimin was
completely bare, lying there on the sofa. Jimin felt a quiver of excitement run
through his body as they held each other’s gazes for a moment.
“Can you imagine the havoc it’d cause if people knew dirty-mouthed, takes-no-
shit-for-an answer, bad boy rapper Agust D has such a beautiful man like this?”
Yoongi wondered aloud, and Jimin felt himself flush.
“Yoongi, don’t talk like that,” he whined, trying to cover his face in
embarrassment, but feeling pleased all the same.
Yoongi leaned back down over him, lifting his chin up to gently kiss him. But
Jimin wasn’t going to let him be that soft. He opened his mouth wider and drew
him in, sucking on the corner of Yoongi’s mouth as the self-proclaimed ‘bad boy
rapper’ lightly pinched Jimin’s plump lower lip between his teeth and then
licked into his mouth.
Yoongi’s hands weren’t idle. Jimin jumped slightly as he felt fingertips slide
down the sides of his ribs, practically dancing along his skin. It was just on
the edge of making him feel ticklish, but the touches were hard enough to send
the potentially laugh-inducing sensations to his groin instead. And when the
fingers began to massage the hollows in his hips, dangerously close to his
crotch, Jimin had to break the kiss to moan.
Yoongi didn’t stop kissing him. He just moved. First his jaw, then his neck,
sucking hard on his Adam’s Apple, flicking his tongue into the dip of his
clavicle, kissing down his chest; Jimin whimpered loudly when one of his
nipples was bitten hard and then soothed with a wet tongue and such a strong
suckle that he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned dark in an hour.
“Yoongi,” he murmured, letting his eyes flutter shut. Yoongi only hummed
against his skin in acknowledgement as he worked his way down Jimin’s torso. He
could tell where this was going, but the knowledge still didn’t prepare him for
it.
Jimin threw his head back over the arm rest as Yoongi’s hot mouth enveloped his
entire length. Yoongi didn’t often go down on him; that was more of something
Jimin enjoyed doing, but now and then when Yoongi was feeling especially
giving, he would suck Jimin off. And he was so good at it. Jimin couldn’t
control his cries as Yoongi’s tongue massaged him, and he fought against the
strong suction surrounding his dick.
Yoongi’s fingers began stroking at his entrance, but didn’t push inside. Jimin
tried to shift down against them, but Yoongi held him still.
“Don’t tease me, Yoongi,” he complained, only getting a laugh in return.
“Calm down; I want to take it slow, and enjoy every moment. And I haven’t even
gotten the lube out yet.”
“Hurry up and get it, then.” He kneed Yoongi slightly, pushing him off the
sofa.
While Yoongi was in the bedroom, Jimin reached over and drained the rest of his
wine glass, swirling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing it down to
savor the taste. He lazily touched himself, feeling the saliva on his dick
already begin to dry.
After a few moments, he suddenly realized Yoongi hadn’t come back yet. He’d
been unconsciously jerking himself off, and was abruptly close to coming, but
Yoongi was nowhere in sight. He stumbled to his feet, a little off-balance from
the wine, and managed to make his way to the bedroom.
“Yoongi,” he whined, knowing how heartbroken his voice sounded. “What’s taking
you so long? I need you. I’m gonna come without you.”
Yoongi wasn’t in the bedroom. He was in the bathroom, and Jimin could hear
water running. When he stepped into the bathroom, stomach tense and cock
leaking pitifully, Yoongi looked up at him.
“Why did you leave me all alone out there?”
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, Jimin,” Yoongi immediately took him in his arms. “I just
realized I’m kind of gross from being in the studio all day, so I thought we
could take a bath together before—oh, shit.”
While he’d been talking, Jimin had only been half listening. He’d continued to
stroke himself and push against Yoongi’s body, until suddenly it was too much
and he was coming all over the bathroom floor. Yoongi caught him around the
waist before he lost strength in his legs.
“You didn’t even fuck me,” Jimin breathed, feeling a little dizzy. Maybe he’d
had a little too much wine. It had been a large bottle. And he’d been so
excited. “I wanted you to fuck me,” he complained, voice getting a little bit
childish.
He knew that Yoongi knew what he liked when he got needy like this. Sure
enough, Yoongi leaned close to his ear and whispered so that his lips brushed
against his lobe.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you real hard, baby.”
Yoongi didn’t particularly like pet names, and Jimin didn’t like most of them
either, having been called a multitude of derogatory and degrading names
throughout his time in front of the camera, but for some reason the only one
he’d allowed was that one. Jimin hated the name when he was sober, but when he
was tipsy or drunk, hearing that word come from Yoongi’s mouth made him tingle
all over and feel like getting as close as possible to him. They’d discovered
this shortly after moving to Korea, after they’d come back from a holiday
party, both barely able to get their shoes off in the small front hall of their
apartment. Jimin had been giggly and overly cute—and extremely horny. Yoongi
had mockingly called him a baby, only for Jimin to demand to be called that
again, and then proceeded to make out with him all of the way to their bedroom
where they ended up fucking rougher than normal even though Jimin didn’t let up
on the cutesy act.
Now, Jimin let out a soft whimper. “Please.”
Yoongi guided him into the hot water—it felt soft from the bath salts he’d
already added. His head was still spinning from the wine and his orgasm, but he
couldn’t let himself fall asleep yet. Luckily Yoongi climbed into the bath soon
after, maneuvering Jimin around in the water until he was lying back in
Yoongi’s lap. Jimin reached down to play with Yoongi’s dick where it rested
along under the crack of his ass. Yoongi breathed out heavily, and pushed the
palm of his hand hard against Jimin’s stomach below his belly button.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispered into Jimin’s ear. It made him whimper and
rub himself harder against Yoongi. But then he remembered that Yoongi had
promised to take care of him tonight, and he slowed down, sinking slightly into
the water. It was barely a moment later that he felt a long, blunt finger
squeeze its way into him, and he moaned softly, leaning his head back onto
Yoongi’s shoulder so that he could reach his neck with his mouth.
“Hyung,” he breathed, rolling his hips and sucking wetly at his neck.
“More…please.”
They knew each other’s bodies so well by this point; Yoongi switched the one
finger to three, pushing in deep and dragging his fingertips across Jimin’s
prostrate. He nearly screamed, biting his lip quickly to muffle himself in
time.
“So good,” he choked out, eyes shut tightly, continuously rocking against the
hand that pumped in and out of him. He heard a small splash, and then another,
and suddenly Yoongi froze.
“Shit, the floor.”
“Wha—?” Jimin couldn’t get his brain to comprehend what Yoongi was talking
about.
“We can’t fuck in the tub, we’ll get water everywhere,” Yoongi pointed out.
“Well then drain it, or get us out,” Jimin demanded. He yelped when Yoongi
suddenly lifted him by one leg and his torso—since when had Yoongi gotten so
strong?—and shoved him against the counter. They were dripping water
everywhere, but at least it wasn’t waves of water pouring over the sides of the
tub.
Jimin didn’t even notice Yoongi lube himself up, but then Yoongi thrust into
him hard, pushing him onto the cold counter, making Jimin fall back against the
mirror. He accidentally knocked over several bottles as he scrambled for some
kind of purchase. He could only find the sink faucet, which he grabbed onto
tightly with one hand, the other holding onto Yoongi’s shoulder. Jimin cried
out as he felt a finger push in beside Yoongi’s cock. It was almost too much,
but then Jimin opened his eyes and saw the way Yoongi’s eyes were dark and
staring him down, and he could only spread his thighs wider and buck his hips
more.
“Y-Yoongi. Oh god, kiss me, please, please, need you,” he babbled, purposely
making his voice as weak as possible. After all time they’d been together,
Jimin had figured out which things riled Yoongi up, and whenever Jimin wanted
to be wrecked, he made sure to push all the right buttons even if he was
exaggerating a little.
“Fuck.” Yoongi nearly bit his lips, practically swallowing his tongue and
muffling the loud, sob-like moan that burst out when Jimin felt two long
fingers push in deep and begin wiggling around even while Yoongi’s cock
continued to slide in and out of him. The shock suddenly gave him hiccups, and
Yoongi began laughing when Jimin’s entire body jerked each time a hiccup hit
him.
“’s not…fuh—agh! ((hic)) funny,” Jimin protested. “Duh ((hic)) don’t
laugh—AH!—at me.”
“But it’s so cute,” Yoongi pointed out.
“Don’t call me cute when you’ve got your fingers and dick up my ass,” Jimin
retorted as fast as he could before another hiccup got him, and then suddenly
fell back against the mirror again, knocking over another container—this time
it spilled, and Jimin’s hand was coated in what he knew to be Yoongi’s shower
gel. He took advantage of the slipperiness of his hand and reached down to
grasp his own dick. He twisted and squeezed tightly, before quickly pumping in
time with Yoongi’s thrusts. It didn’t take long before he was clenching around
Yoongi and coating his abs with white.
Yoongi pulled his fingers out and plunged deep into him a few more times before
he shuddered and released hot semen into him.
For a while their breaths were loud and labored, Jimin’s still a little high
and gasping as he tried to bring in enough air to fight the encroaching
whiteness, but slowly their heart rates went down, and with a wet squelch,
Yoongi pulled out and helped him back to his feet. Jimin felt cum drip down his
thighs.
“Goddamn, I’m gonna need another bath,” he laughed weakly. His knees buckled.
“And for you to carry me to bed.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Such a needy baby.”
Jimin wasn’t nearly as drunk as before. “Don’t you start that now,” he warned
in a low voice.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 
Epilogue Part II
 
 
                                     JIMIN
                                        
After settling into Seoul with Yoongi, Jimin finally finishes his GED. He goes
on to attend Seoul University of Arts part time, pursuing dance and
choreography. He joins the Korea National Contemporary Dance Company before he
graduates. Although he still feels uncomfortable with cameras on him, he is
less afraid than before. Usually the only coverage he gets is in the form of
independent art or dance magazines. They have a very specific readership
demographic, so he doesn’t mind as much. These days, he occasionally features
as an anonymous singer for rapper Agust D. Vocal credits go simply to ‘JM.’ He
lives an otherwise quiet life, blinking in and out of the spotlight from time
to time whenever he has a big production, or is caught around the city with his
more famous friends. He is happy, and healing.
                                        
                                        
                                    YOONGI
                                        
Yoongi becomes a successful producer and semi-famous rapper. He does live shows
every now and then when he releases mixtapes, but he doesn’t focus on that
because his first and foremost desire is to simply create music. The love of
fans, his ‘ARMY,’ is an added bonus. He secretly features Jimin in songs nearly
every time he releases a mixtape, to the point that he becomes a familiar voice
on Agust D’s tracks. A few years into his producing work, Yoongi is nominated
and receives an award for writing and producing a song with an up-and-coming
singer that shoots up the charts despite its controversial lyrics. Yoongi buys
a nice apartment overlooking Han River, where he and Jimin continue to live
together.
 
 
                                    NAMJOON
                                        
Namjoon continues to be a successful and popular rapper. RM collaborates with
Agust D on a regular basis. He is often seen hanging out with Agust D’s mystery
man JM, both alone and as a group, but he also dodges questions whenever asked
about his identity. In addition to his work in music, Namjoon also is heavily
involved in charity campaigns, fighting against domestic violence, trying to
open up the conversation about mental health and acceptance of diversity.
Whenever he is asked why he cares so much about those issues, he only answers
that not only have they had a significant impact on himself and people close to
him, but in general they are issues that need to be addressed, especially in
Korea. Eventually he receives the Seoul Community Service Award, and has an
emotional celebration with all of his closest friends in the quiet of his own
apartment.
 
 
                                    HOSEOK
                                        
Hoseok gets recognition for his dancing and choreography, and moves to Seoul a
few years later to open up a dance studio called ‘Hope on the Street.’ He
regularly does the choreography for big name idols. When he has time, he, Agust
D, and RM enjoy collab-ing together like they had when they were younger. He
and Jimin dance together for fun, teaching each other moves from their
respective genres, each of them always open to learning more about the others’
style of dance.
 
 
                                   TAEHYUNG
                                        
Taehyung finishes university and interns under a big fashion label for a couple
of years while he works on creating his own label. It takes time, but
eventually his label takes off, and becomes popular in Korea and Japan. Despite
his busy schedule, he always manages to have time to hang out with Jimin,
whether it be for karaoke sessions, or clubbing, or billiards. He never fails
to tease Jimin mercilessly whenever he spots marks on his skin from having “too
much fun with Yoongi-hyung.”
 
 
                                    SEOKJIN
                                        
Seokjin, who has been living in Seoul ever since graduating from high school,
has become a successful businessman. Namjoon gets back in touch with him and
then the two of them decide to surprise Yoongi at a dinner (with Jimin’s help
to make Yoongi less suspicious about why they’re all going to a nice restaurant
with no apparent reason to celebrate). He finally meets Jimin. Seokjin becomes
quite close with Jimin, ‘taking him under his wing,’ so to speak. He has a
fondness for dad jokes, and Jimin is apparently incapable of not laughing at
each and every joke the older man makes. It might just be because Seokjin’s
laugh itself is funny, though. With their similar personalities, it doesn’t
take long for Seokjin to become the closest thing to being an older brother to
Jimin.
 
 
                                   JUNGKOOK
                                        
Jungkook has been studying full time in the States. He returns to Busan after
graduating three years later, but soon moves to Seoul to work on movie editing.
He and Taehyung have kept in touch over the years. Now they hang out when they
have time, and eventually Jungkook (or JK, as Seokjin likes to call him)
becomes part of the group. He grows out of his shy phase—both mentally and
physically, shooting up to tower over both Jimin and Yoongi, and Jimin
struggles to keep him in his place; if Jimin has to get used to the ‘hyung’
hierarchy, Jungkook should respect it as well, he thinks. There are a few times
Jimin has to pull the “Yoongi Card” to put Jungkook in his place, but Jimin
doesn’t like doing that because he feels that it is just working in Jungkook’s
favor, proving that Jimin can’t gain his respect on his own. Either way,
Jungkook’s almost adoring respect for both RM and Agust D is something that
Jimin takes full advantage of on a regular basis. (He never claimed to be the
mature one of the group.)
 .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Epilogue Part III
 
“/Park Jimin-ssi?/”
Jimin looked up at his choreographer. Her voice had an odd quality to it, like
she was confused, and concerned…and something else she seemed to be trying to
contain, all at the same time.
“/Yes? What is it?/”
“/I’ve just been told by reception that there’s someone with a very strange
claim about you./”
It had been years, but Jimin couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine at
those words. “/What kind of claim? Who?/” He tried to keep his own voice calm.
It wouldn’t do to panic. It could be anyone.
“/You moved here from America, didn’t you?/”
“/Yes…./” The feeling was getting stronger, clawing at his chest. He wished she
would just get on with it before he started panicking.
“/There is a woman claiming to be your grandmother. She said you disappeared
when you were a child./”
Jimin frowned, and didn’t say anything. What was she talking about?
“/Jimin-ssi. Is that true?/”
“/I…was adopted when I was young,/” he explained. “/My birth parents died when
I was four./”
“/And you were in America at the time?/”
“/Yes./”
“/And none of your relatives came to claim you?/”
Jimin shook his head. “/Not as far as I know, but I don’t really remember./”
“/Well, maybe you should meet this woman. She could be telling the truth./”
Jimin tensed. “/Is she here right now?/”
“/No, she contacted us over the phone. I guess she found the number of the
Dance Company and called right away when she saw your name and picture in an
arts magazine. Sunhee-ssi took down her contact information. It’s of course up
to you whether you do anything with it, but I think you should at least speak
with her./”
Jimin collected the small note with the woman’s name and number. Her surname
wasn’t Park, like he’d been expecting, but then again she hadn’t mentioned
which side of his family she supposedly came from, and Jimin had learned that
it wasn’t that uncommon for Korean women to keep their maiden names. Throughout
the rest of the day, he folded and unfolded the piece of paper, almost to the
point of ripping it clear in half. In a panic, he entered the number into his
phone so he wouldn’t lose it.
 
When Jimin finally went to meet the woman, taking a day trip all the way south
to Busan, Yoongi came along. They secretly held hands on the train, Jimin
playing with Yoongi’s fingers nervously. His old photo album from before he was
adopted rested safely in his bag. He planned to keep it secret until he felt
sure that she was really who she was saying she was. He and Yoongi had poured
over his photos, finding the ones taken with his grandparents. He tried to
imprint their faces into his mind, hoping that he would jog his childhood
memory, or at least recognize the woman when he met her.
They met at a local tea shop. Jimin wasn’t ready to go straight to her home.
Despite her age, the woman was beautiful. And maybe he was imagining it, but he
felt like he could already see the similarities; her eyes, her nose, her
delicate hands…. Jimin bowed politely and hesitantly held out his hand for her
to shake it, but then retracted it when she didn’t notice the outstretched
hand. She was too busy staring at him with wide eyes.
The woman had a thick Busan satoori accent when she spoke.
“/I can’t believe it. I saw you in an arts magazine when I was sitting in the
hair salon, getting my roots touched up. I thought I was imagining it. The
anniversary of their deaths only just passed last month; I thought I was simply
being emotional. But then I read the article, and saw your name among the new
dancers, and I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence./” Suddenly she laughed,
although it was a wet laugh, and Jimin could see the sparkle of tears in the
corners of her eyes. “/My poor hair stylist! She probably thought I was having
a stroke! I made the receptionist look online for a way to contact you. Heavens
knows I couldn’t have found the number with the way they don’t even make good
old phonebooks these days./”
They had sat down by this point, and Yoongi went to go order them drinks,
leaving them to talk.
“/I never knew I had family back…back in Korea,/” Jimin said quietly. “/I was
so little that I don’t even remember—I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you. I can
barely remember my parents. I couldn’t even speak Korean until relatively
recently. I thought…I thought that if I had family, they would have found me
before I was…adopted./”
Her eyes were sad, but warm. “/We didn’t find out until much later about the
accident. This was before cell phones and the internet made instant
communication easy, and supposedly they couldn’t figure out the identities of
the victims because they didn’t have anyone to translate their ID’s. The entire
thing was handled terribly,/” she sighed, sounding like this was something she
had come to terms with a long time ago, but at one time had been furious about.
“/My daughter—your mother—told me they would be in America for half a year
because of your father’s job. A few months had passed already since they left
for America, and we only spoke very rarely because the long-distance calls were
so expensive. I had spoken with her on the phone a few days before the
accident—I know that now—so I didn’t think anything of it when I didn’t hear
from her for a month or two. By the time I felt something was wrong, and tried
to find out what had happened, they told me that everyone had died in the
accident. I never even considered that there had been a mistake in the report,
that there was a chance you were still alive, all on your own./”
Jimin frowned. He wondered how Chris and Zoe had been able to get his birth
certificate and legally adopt him, even make him a U.S. citizen, without
someone back in Korea knowing that he was still alive. Unfortunately, he didn’t
know those kind of details. “/I wasn’t adopted until I was eight,/” he told
her. “/First, I was put into a children’s home for a year or two—I think that
must’ve been when I started speaking English—/”
“/Oh, no; your parents had you taking English lessons since you were a
toddler,/” she interrupted with a shake of her head. “/They knew with your
father’s job that they would likely need to move overseas, so they started you
young./”
Jimin’s mouth dropped open slightly. “/Oh. I…/” he trailed off. “/I don’t
remember much from before I was five or six. But I guess…that makes sense./” It
was strange to learn something like that about himself.
She reached out to touch his face gently. He startled a little, but realized he
didn’t feel threatened by the touch, and relaxed.
“/My precious little prince,/” she said. “/You look exactly like your mother. I
just knew it was my Jiminie when I saw your picture in the magazine. You
haven’t changed one bit./”
Yoongi returned, handing each of them steaming mugs of brewing tea. Jimin
smiled up at him in thanks, and moved slightly so that Yoongi could sit beside
him on the wooden bench seat. When Jimin looked back, he saw that the woman’s
eyes were on Yoongi’s wrist; on the bracelet he wore. The tiny silver initials
‘JM’ were visible, having slipped out from under his sleeve when he reached for
his mug.
“/What’s your name?/” she suddenly asked Yoongi, looking at him properly for
the first time.
Yoongi bowed slightly for the second time that meeting, and extended his hand,
left hand respectfully at his elbow. She took his hand carefully. “/I apologize
for not introducing myself, halmeonim. My name is Min Yoongi/,” he replied.
Jimin thought it was strange to hear Yoongi call her ‘grandmother’ when even he
hadn’t yet tried out the name. But he supposed it was just another one of those
aspects of Korean culture that he hadn’t gotten used to yet.
“/Yoongi-ssi…tell me, have you been taking good care of my Jimin? You seem
close./”
“/I do my best,/” Yoongi answered at the same time as Jimin said, “/He has./”
Jimin was relieved when he saw the soft smile on her face. He wasn’t sure if
she recognized the nature of their relationship, but she didn’t appear to mind
at this point. Perhaps she was simply so happy to see him alive and well that
she wouldn’t care of he was dating a rock.
“/I want to show you something, Jimin-ah./” She reached into her purse and
pulled out an envelope. Jimin knew it was going to be photos before she even
drew them out of the envelope, and he realized he was holding his breath. He
quickly took in a gulp of air and seized Yoongi’s knee under the table. Yoongi
discreetly brought his opposite hand down from the table, before shifting
slightly to lean closer to the table, seeming like he was interested in the
photos, but really just hiding the angle of his arm as he reached to clasp
their hands together.
The woman—his grandmother, he supposed he could start referring to her
as—flipped through the photos, searching for a particular one. She pulled out
an old, faded photo and held it out to him.
Jimin sucked in his breath, squeezing Yoongi’s hand tightly. There was no
denying that the child in the photo was Jimin. The eyes, the cheeks, the lips,
even his nose…even though he’d aged plenty in the twenty-plus years since the
photo had been taken, those features had never disappeared. He reached out to
take the photo, looking closer.
“/Here’s another, from your third birthday,/” she said. In this photo, Jimin
was crying, possibly even screaming, in the arms of a twenty years’ younger
version of the woman sitting in front of him. “/Your mother had scolded you for
sticking your hands into the hot cake; you were upset that you couldn’t have
cake right away, and frightened because you nearly burnt yourself. Almost burst
my eardrums with your wailing./” she laughed fondly.
Jimin took that photo, too, passing the other one to Yoongi to look at.
“/Oh, and this one is one of my favorites./” She held out a photo, and Jimin
gasped. He had the same photo. He dropped the one in his hands and scrambled to
pull out the photo album from his bag, flipping quickly through the photos
until he found it. He shoved the page forward onto the table.
It was a Christmas photo, from when Jimin was four. Not long before his parents
died. He knew because the back of the photo had the date written on it. In the
photo, he was sitting on his father’s shoulders, reaching high up to put the
star on the top of the tree. His mother’s arms were outstretched, ready to
catch him, and his father had a wide smile, hands firmly on Jimin’s sides to
keep him steady.
The woman—his grandmother; he was sure, now—put her hand to her mouth.
“/Oh, Jimin. It really is you./” She stood up, reaching for him, and even
though Jimin still didn’t remember her, and had no way of knowing whether she
had been a kind or a mean grandmother, he listened to his instincts and got to
his feet as well. When he leaned down to let her wrap her thin arms around him,
there was a scent that hit him, somehow familiar and so sudden that he couldn’t
control the sobs which broke free. He held onto her tightly, but carefully, not
wanting to hurt her with his strength.
“/Halmeoni,/” he cried, feeling the truth in his words. He couldn’t believe it.
Not only did he have Yoongi, and his friends, but he also had part of his real
family back.
He couldn’t wait to get to know his grandmother again.
Yoongi rescheduled their tickets back to Seoul, and they ended up staying for
dinner, sharing stories (only the good ones) and eating enough homemade food to
last them until the next week. They returned to Seoul late that night with
stomachs full, hearts warm, and many containers of homemade dishes to
reallylast them until the next week.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 
Epilogue Part IV
 
No matter how much Agust D’s fans begged him to tell them the identity of his
mystery singer who had a voice like an angel, Yoongi never told. But some
sneaky fans noticed that the initials on the bracelet he never took off read,
‘JM,’ and they noticed him spending a lot of time with “a very beautiful man”
(according to the captions attached to the pictures that were posted). Anytime
photos of the man were posted to the internet, though, Big Hit managed to pull
them down immediately. Yoongi had long since come out to his company, and was
grateful that they had continued to support him and respect his privacy. He
hadn’t even needed Namjoon to back him up like he’d thought when he had gone in
to apologize to his boss Bang Shi Hyuk—he and Jimin had been caught curled up
together on the sofa in his studio one night—because Bang PD-nim only smiled at
him and told him he’d suspected for a while, but had been waiting for Yoongi to
feel comfortable enough to tell him himself. Yoongi did get a bit of a scolding
for not being more careful, since he’d been obviously trying to keep it a
secret, and then he was given a simple warning to be mindful of the fans or
sasaengs who might disapprove and try to cause harm to him. He told Yoongi it
was his choice whether to keep it a secret or not, but he advised against
bringing too much attention to himself. Luckily Yoongi had agreed, since his
main goal was to keep Jimin safe and out of the spotlight.
Finally, though, Yoongi thought it was time. After a long talk with Jimin to
get his approval, Agust D sat down to talk with his fans over a livechat. He
brought Jimin in to sit beside him, wearing a simple white face mask, his
currently golden blond hair lying in soft waves that framed his face nicely.
The comments running along the side exploded, becoming faster and faster as
more fans logged in to watch.
They sat silently, just waiting for a minute or so until more viewers were
connected. Jimin knew Yoongi didn’t like repeating himself.
“/Hey there, ARMY,/” he greeted them with a cool smile, lapsing into his Agust
D persona. “As you can see, we have a guest here with us today./” Jimin raised
his hand and made a peace sign against his face, smiling but not removing the
mask or saying anything. Yoongi grinned slightly at him and turned back to the
camera.
“/This…is JM./”
The comments picked up speed again, and dozens of hearts and exclamation points
sped by.
“/Yes, this is the owner of that voice you all love so much./” He turned to
Jimin briefly. “/Do you want to say anything, JM?/”
Jimin hesitated. He started to shake his head, but then stopped. Instead, he
sang two seconds of a line from one of their more recent songs. He felt himself
blushing when the comments turned into excited proclamations of their undying
love for him.
“/Anyway,/” Yoongi continued, “/Today I have something serious to talk about
with you all. Recently something has been happening a lot that makes me very
uncomfortable. I know you’re all used to me spitting fire, and being rude, and
being a general dick—/”
Jimin couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips, and he earned an elbow to
the ribs.
“Shut up, you,” Yoongi retorted lightly in English, before refocusing his
attention. “/But the truth of the matter is I act that way to make a point.
Because I want to fight for the things I care about. For the things…and
people…I love./”
Jimin slowly glanced at him, letting the teasing crinkle of his eyes
disappear—the only hint to the viewers that he’d been smiling. He didn’t want
to see what the comments said. He wanted to watch Yoongi.
“/I know some of you have picked up on this, some of you haven’t, but lately
many people have been posting photographs taken outside of media events, or
performances, or the studio; basically photos taken without consent. And…to be
absolutely honest with you, I feel that consent is one of the most important
things in this world. It’s mutual agreement, coming to a common ground, all
sides not only understanding, but conceding to whatever it is you are talking
about. It’s not just about sex, although most people think about that when
talking about consent. It’s also about respect in general, and taking into
consideration the opinions or feelings of others./”
Outside of the camera frame, Jimin laced their fingers together.
“/So…ultimately, I have a request for you all. I would like you to please
respect the privacy of JM. I know that you all love his voice. I know that you
want to see his face and share your love for him all over. But you can show
your love in other ways, rather than spreading photos that will end up hurting
him, since he wishes to remain out of the greater public eye./”
“/And,/” Jimin said suddenly, surprising Yoongi, “/as a thank you for all of
your support despite not knowing who JM’s voice belonged to, I,/” he swallowed
slightly, and let go of Yoongi’s hand as he brought his hand up to his face, “/
I’d like to say a proper greeting./”
He slowly lifted the straps from around his ears, and brought the mask down to
rest in his lap. Ignoring the way his heart began to race, he stared into the
camera and smiled brightly. He tried to not read the comments, but he caught a
few anyway. Most were in Korean due to the time difference, but there were
still a few English ones littered about.
‘/Holy shit, he’s fucking gorgeous up close!/’
‘He looks like an angel!’
‘/Agust D sure knows how to pick right!/’
‘/He can’t be real. Seriously?!/’
“/Hi, I’m JM…I’m Agust D’s personal freelance singer,/” he couldn’t help the
small smirk from curling his lips, “/and his…/” he paused, looking at Yoongi.
They’d talked about this, had both agreed it was time, but he wanted to make
sure that Yoongi still felt that way. He gasped slightly when he felt Yoongi’s
arm snake around his waist and abruptly draw him close, practically onto his
lap. “Hyung!” he exclaimed in embarrassment.
The comments picked up speed.
‘/OMG THEY’RE REALLY TOGETHER???/’
‘My ship is REAL!’
‘/I knew I wasn’t imagining things…/’
‘Oh MAN HOLY SHIT’
Yoongi only laughed, and ruffled Jimin’s hair, furthering his embarrassment.
Even though he couldn’t deny that he loved it.
“/Yes, JM and I are very much together,/” Yoongi acknowledged. “/It’s been
quite a while now, since even before we both moved back to Korea. And he means
more to me than anything else, so I’d like to enlist your help, ARMY. Please
stop taking photos of him, and if you know any of your friends are posting
photos, or if you see photos online somewhere, it would mean the world to me if
you kindly deleted them, and encourage others to do the same./”
Jimin put his mask back on, feeling a little more uncomfortable now that he was
watching the comments again. Most were supportive, but there were still the
occasional over-sexualized comments.
‘/I’d tap that./’
‘He looks like a Baby Boy. The ‘D’ in Agust D definitely stands for ‘Daddy.’ <3
<3 <3’
‘/JM’s fucking HOT!/’
Yoongi didn’t seem to notice, luckily. “/If I do any more livechats from home
like this, you’ll probably see a little more of him, and maybe eventually he’ll
feel comfortable enough to show his face more. But until then, please respect
our wishes, and help me to protect the one I love./”
Jimin bit his lip behind his mask. “Don’t be so cheezy, hyung,” he muttered in
English, getting a little secondhand embarrassment.
Yoongi looked affronted. “Why? It’s the truth.”
After another hard look, Yoongi turned back to the camera and quickly finished
up the livechat. They said goodbye together, and then turned off the feed.
Jimin dropped his mask onto the coffee table.
The moment the camera was turned off, Yoongi pulled Jimin onto his lap and
began to kiss him hard.
“I was so fucking nervous,” he mumbled against Jimin’s mouth.
“You were nervous?” Jimin retorted, groaning slightly as Yoongi’s hand dipped
into his jeans after unbuttoning them. “I thought I was going to have a heart
attack.”
“Mm.” Yoongi tilted Jimin’s head, getting better access to lick deeper into his
mouth. Their tongues twisted around each other, slippery and warm. Yoongi’s
hand in Jimin’s pants was unforgiving, and soon Jimin was gasping into his
mouth. It was a good thing that tomorrow was laundry day, because within
moments Jimin was coming into his boxers, soiling them completely.
Once the high went down, he sighed in mock annoyance.
“Yoongi, can’t you wait until after I get my pants off to do that? This is so
gross.”
“I like you gross,” was the retort he got in return, accompanied by a tweak to
his nose.
“God. So immature. I don’t know why I let you boss me around like this.”
“Because you love me…and you boss me around plenty.”
“Well…that is true.”
“Which part?”
“Ohhh, the second part, of course!”
“Jimin!”
“Okay, okay.”
“Well? Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
Jimin stuck his tongue out. “…You know.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and pinched him slightly. “I know.”
 
 
 
Meanwhile, Agust D’s fans were already working together to help make sure his
request was respected. Yoongi and Jimin wouldn’t find out until the next day,
though.
“Wow. ARMY really is the best,” Jimin said, mouth open and amazed.
“Yeah,” Yoongi smiled. “They really are.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 
 
 
The End.
Chapter End Notes
     Thank you so much for reading! It's been a crazy journey. I've never
     in my entire life, written such a fleshed out, novel-length
     story...and managed to complete it. And can you believe...it's only
     been four months since the beginning? Wow.
     Side note: I was one of those kids who almost never got to see their
     grandparents after moving very far away at the age of five. Years
     would pass between visits, and yet each time, somehow when we met
     again, I could remember the scent that belonged to my grandmother, or
     to my other grandparents, although they died when I was still young.
     So I could definitely imagine Jimin's sensory memory kicking in,
     triggered by his grandmother's scent.
     Also...I considered giving Jimin a brother (Jihyun)……but it really
     wouldn’t have made sense why he’d have been left behind in Korea. And
     Jimin would have seen him in at least some of the pictures when he
     was four. I really wanted to write the line, “Just wait until your
     brother hears about this!” “My WHAT? I have a brother?!”
     hahahahahahaha but I resisted for the dignity of the story.
     I'm going to miss this story so much. I plan to go back and edit it a
     bit (there are typos and minor plot holes here and there), so if
     someday you decide to come back and revisit this story, perhaps it
     will have a few (tiny) changes. Nothing significant, I promise.
     Also, since I have grown far, far too close to the 'Break Away'
     universe Yoongi and Jimin, I will probably post one-shots
     occasionally. I'm not really sure whether I'll link them with that
     "part of a series" tag, or if I'll just include a link to this at the
     beginning for new readers, but you can definitely look forward to
     that.
     Again, thank you so much for all of your support! I couldn't have
     finished this story without all of you keeping me motivated along the
     way!
     Please don't forget to comment! I'd love to read your emotional
     reactions! ;)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
