Im Your Umbrella and the

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I'm Your Umbrella and the Rain Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/13359342. Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

| Bangtan Boys | BTS

Relationship:

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

Character:

Park Jimin (BTS), Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Taehyung | V, Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Violence, Park Jimin Is a Sweetheart, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Panic Attacks, Protective Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Protective Min Yoongi | Suga, Cute Park Jimin, Teacher Park Jimin, Mob Boss Min Yoongi, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, Married Couple, Married Life, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin Are Best Friends, Minor Character Death, Kim Seokjin | Jin Being a Mom, Jeon Jungkook is troubled, Clumsy Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Blood, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Smut and Angst, I didn’t mean for there to be this much angst???, Oh god, Kim Taehyung | V & Kim Seokjin | Jin are brothers, but it's the good kind of angst, if that's a thing, EVERYTHING WILL BE HAPPY DAMN IT, Chatting & Messaging

Series:

Part 1 of I'm Your Umbrella and the Rain

Stats:

Published: 2018-01-13 Completed: 2018-09-29 Chapters: 15/15 Words: 271199

I'm Your Umbrella and the Rain by GalsaegPiano Summary

Temptation was all it took to banish Eve from the Garden of Eden. And it was temptation that led Jimin on his little adventure into the darkest parts of Seoul. His apple was Yoongi and although he tried to be a good boy, and stay on the right path – it didn’t take long for him to accept the fact he would eat his apple of temptation every time it was presented to him. And he would do it willingly and happily. Or Sweet High School teacher Jimin marries scary Mafia Boss Yoongi and this is the tale of their unconventional domestic life. STOP POSTING THIS ONTO OTHER WEBSITES LIKE WATPAD I DON’T EVER GIVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY STORIES.

This is Who I Married Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Jimin doesn’t really remember what time he went to sleep last night. He doesn’t even remember where the hell it is he’s sleeping currently. His neck feels as stiff as a board and his body is curled up on itself so much, that he probably can’t unfold himself from this position. At least – not without groaning in sheer agony as his joint and bones clicking unhealthily. It’s pretty cold too. His bed is never cold; it’s huge, always warm, always fluffy and probably the best bed in the entire world all bias aside. He wouldn’t be curled up into a little ball if he were asleep on his bed. He thinks though, that despite the uncomfortable position, he could’ve slept wherever the hell he was until morning easily. He remembers being so very tired that he could feel it coating his very bones. So tired that he had drank through more cups of coffee than usual that day and nothing had helped. He’s not usually so tired, but recently it’s been morning after morning of waking up and debating as to whether he actually needed his job or not. But what’s brought him back round from his sleep – or still trying to at least, he’s considerably stubborn – was a warm hand carding through his hair and fingers ghosting across his cheeks. And just as he’s about to groan a complaint about how rude it was to wake a peacefully sleeping person, he’s brought fully crashing back down to reality by a voice that he could recognise even in his most sleepiest of states. “Hey baby, it’s bad to sleep here.” His voice is so deep and so raspy that Jimin can imagine it vibrating in his chest with each syllable. It’s quiet, practically a whisper, and cautious in a way that if he went any louder, it would shatter the peaceful and tranquil scene he sees before him. That peaceful and tranquil scene being a once sleeping Jimin, of who’s peacefulness has been well and truly shattered now he’s awake. A groan of complaint escapes Jimin’s lips regardless and it’s rewarded by a beautiful chuckle that makes Jimin’s very body shudder and ears crave to hear more of. “What made you decide to sleep on the couch today?” The deep voice asks with a lilt of fondness, curiosity and amusement. Jimin really doesn’t want to open his eyes. He knows what he’ll see when he opens them and he wont be able to go back to sleep again. And he really, really needs sleep. He hums instead, enjoying the long calloused fingers tangling in his hair like a cat enjoying attention from an owner that had been neglecting them. “Well,” Jimin begins, voice laced and groggy with sleep. “My husband told me he was going to be late.” He stretches a little, pulling out the aches and pains that had ceased up from his stiff position. Jimin shuffles next to the man beside him, pulling the top half of his body to lean more against his chest. His cheek rests on a crisp white shirt still tinged with the outside cold. But Jimin can feel the

man’s warmth just seeping through from under it. He burrows his cheek into his chest more in search of that warmth he so craves and gives out a contented sigh. Two long arms curl around the small of Jimin’s back and lips brush against the top of his head letting a small chuckle out. “And you were being a good husband and waiting diligently for him to return?” Jimin hums out an agreement, enjoying the feeling of comfort chasing out all the aches and pains and stiffness that he had initially woken up too. They could be anywhere in the world, but he would always be comfortable in these arms. “Do you know where my husband is?” Jimin asks, voice softer than before as it’s still dazed by slumber. But there’s just the tiniest hint of sarcasm laced in his cheeky smirk. The man chuckles; breath puffing onto the crown of his head before he kisses it gently. “He’s in the best place in the world.” He explains and Jimin makes a noise of question in response. “In your arms.” The man barely whispers. A beat passes between them of absolute silence, before it’s shattered by Jimin’s giggles as he buries his whole face into Yoongi’s shirt. His sleep has officially been washed out of his body even though he still feels heavy with tiredness. “That was so corny. You were doing so well.” He giggles, voice muffled by his husband’s shirt. Yoongi sighs defeated, yet affectionately. “Hey, I’m allowed to be corny, that’s what love does.” Jimin snorts. “Gross.” Jimin finally opens his eyes and sneaks a peek through his lashes at the face of his husband. It was paler than usual, if that were even possible, but it looked as though all form of colour had been sucked out of him. His obsidian eyes were shut peacefully, were set into dark circles that needed more than just one night’s sleep to clear. His once slicked back and ready for business raven locks had fallen out of order, falling around his face in a way that could only have been caused by hands running through it irritably. Jimin pulls one of his hands out from where it had been trapped between their two bodies, and gently scratches lovingly at the nape of Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi leans into the touch grateful and needy, his turn to act like a cat starved of an owner’s affection. Somewhere in the vast space of their apartment Jimin can hear his alarm clock buzzing in that high pitched mechanical way that you associated with bad thoughts – like early mornings. He groans, hand flopping back onto his chest. “Is it morning already?” He asks and hopes more than anything that it’s just a trick of his mind – that morning is really many hours away, and he’s currently just hearing things. “It is.” Yoongi replies gently. His arms not moving to let Jimin go and lips still pressing chaste kisses into his hair. “You stayed out all night.” There was no lilt to his voice to make it a question; it was a statement. One that he wasn’t overly happy with but one Jimin would have to deal with. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi breaths out between kisses. “Are you mad?”

Jimin shrugs lacing his fingers in Yoongi’s shirt. “Not really.” And it was the honest truth. He wasn’t angry, he knew that this was the deal that came with Yoongi, that he could spend nights not knowing where he was or what he was doing. He could end up falling asleep on the couch countless times in the future trying to stay away just long enough to kiss his husband once when he comes home and then fall into bed together. He was frustrated by the fact he hadn’t really spoken more than a few words to Yoongi all week save messages. And he was irritated by the fact that work was pulling his newly wedded husband away from him. They were meant to be still enjoying their honeymoon stage 6 months into the marriage, not suffering through late lonely nights and missed meals. If they were a normal couple, Jimin would be bitching to him about staying out all night. Mind racing with images of Yoongi accompanied by mysterious bodies tangled in foreign sheets. He’d throw things and point fingers and get so jealous his skin could very well turn green. But they weren’t a normal couple not by a long shot. “You were working, it can’t be helped.” Jimin smiles, lips stretched in the fabric of his shirt. “What did I do in another life to deserve you?” Yoongi sighs serenely, holding onto Jimin just that little bit tighter. “Clearly, you were a saint.” Jimin scoffs letting himself relax in his grip for a few more seconds. But the annoying buzzing of the alarm is still going, reminding them that the world is still turning and they both need to get moving. It was a much needed push in the right direction, even if it was the most unwanted push ever. Jimin sighs, patting Yoongi’s stomach thrice before pulling himself out of his arms and off the couch. It took all his effort and strength and he gave a long sigh of exhaustion. “Sunshine, why do you look so tired?” Yoongi asks, arms following Jimin’s movements and sliding from around his waist to his hands before he tangles their fingers together. His voice is even, calm and cool and to an untrained ear, it’s how it usually sounds. But Jimin was no untrained ear. He could hear all the worry and concern echoing through Yoongi’s words even though he didn't put them foreword. He smiles softly, untangling his fingers and cupping his lover’s face. It’s rough with morning shadow and he makes a mental note to leave his travel shaver out for him before he leaves. “I’m always tired, Yoonie.” The pads of his fingers smooth over the dark under circles of his eyes, as if his touch alone could make them disappear. “How long will you sleep today?” “A few hours, I have to be back by 1.” Yoongi explains voice more serious as he contemplates the probably endless set of tasks he has to get back too a.s.a.p. “Have you eaten?” Jimin asks, fingers still gently trying to caress the sleep from under his eyes. Yoongi nods, eyes shutting. “Last night yeah. I’ll grab food before I head back in.” He wont, he’ll sleep until the last minuet and forget just like he always does. It's not like he does it on purpose, the man just has so many other things flittering through his mind. The rhythmic touches under Yoongi’s eyes must be lulling the poor man to sleep as Jimin can see his chest falling with deeper breathes. He places a kiss to each of his eyelids and Yoongi doesn’t stir. He

smiles fondly and saunters over to their living room cupboard, pulling out their fluffiest brown blanket and draping it over him. Jimin had always been a good boy. A little sarcastic from time to time, but his intentions and morals were good. He always looked both ways before crossing the road. Never once did he forget the importance of manners and a well placed please and thank you. He had only ever gotten tipsy once because he wasn’t really sure what his limit of alcohol was. He’d never touched a drug or cigarette his entire life despite numerous peer-pressuring incidents. And he went to church every Sunday wearing his Sunday bests without a single complaint on his lips. He was a good little Christian boy. He liked being a good little Christian boy. That was, until he met Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t a good Christian boy. He wasn’t good and he certainly wasn’t Christian. He was from the darkest corners of Seoul. The types of places that wouldn’t be able to describe to you a sunflower they were so dark. Where their source of light was neon and not natural and their air was illegal vapors not oxygen. He was everything that Jimin had learned not to be. Everything he was told not to do. He was the nightmare his parents told him whenever he thought about straying from his Good Christian morals. He was the clear-cut example of everything the bible is not. But, sometimes, to get to God, first you gotta meet the Devil. Temptation was all it took to banish Eve from the Garden of Eden. And it was temptation that led Jimin on his little adventure into the darkest parts of Seoul. His apple was Yoongi and although he tried to be a good boy, and stay on the right path – it didn’t take long for him to accept the fact he would eat his apple of temptation every time it was presented to him. And he would do it willingly and happily. He still looks both ways before crossing the street, always says please and thank you, gets tipsy only when he forgets how low his alcohol tolerance is and he’s still never touched a drug or cigarette. But he no longer goes to church every Sunday. At least, not without a complaint on his lips.

____________

It was bitingly cold for late September, and Jimin dried himself from his shower and donned his work clothes in record speed. The now peacefully ticking alarm clock read 6:05 and he had a good few 50 minuets or so before he had to be on the road. The bed was still neatly made from the morning before, their white sheets pulled tight over the King size bed with the grey throw pillows stacked neatly in their little lines. Why do we need so many pillows, Sunshine? Because I like sleeping in a nest, Yoonie. He flung the curtains open embracing the harsh reality of the grey Tuesday morning that lay bellow their penthouse apartment. From up this high he couldn’t hear the bustling, obnoxious traffic from the streets of Seoul bellow them. On good days, when the haze was at it’s bay, he could see so far the

city looked endless and the large ceiling to wall windows let so much light in it made the place feel like heaven. Almost as high as the gods. He tottered himself back into their large walk in wardrobe, humming to himself as he went. He turned to the right side, ignoring all his more colourful clothes and running his hands across the expensive darker colours his husband so loved to wear. He pulled out a new crisp white shirt, folding it delicately over his arm before locating the skinny grey slacks and matching blazer that Jimin just loved to ogle his husband in. Yoongi didn’t like wearing ties, even though his collection was incredibly extensive but Jimin was adamant that he would look unkempt without one. But the poor man was so exhausted; Jimin supposed he deserved a little comfort during his high intensity workdays. He hung the clothes on the back of their en suit, knowing his husband wouldn’t dare leave the house without showering first. He pushed around in one of the draws under the mirror until his hands came across a yellow post-it pad and a black marker. I left your shaver by your toothbrush, you’re looking a little stubbly ~ ♥. Jimin tended not to eat much in the mornings, a coffee and a piece of fruit easily tying him over until lunchtime. But it was his forgetful husband that he had to worry about now. He set to work on a quick breakfast – pancakes of which could be easily reheated. He covered them in foil and pulled out the yellow post-it pad and pen he had pocketed from the bathroom. Eat it all. If I find remains in the bin, I’ll make you eat those too ~ ♥. By then it was dangerously nearing the time in which he had to leave. He looked over to his sleeping husband, coffee cup nursed snuggly in his hand as he finished the last remaining dregs of it. He really didn't want to wake Yoongi up. He was so exhausted after all, and you know what they say about sleeping dogs... But rationally, he didn't want him sleeping on their couch. It was a nice couch; don’t get him wrong. But from the way Jimin’s own body was still aching from his uncomfortable nap on the couch – he was certain Yoongi’s frailer body would only suffer ten times more. He slips his cup in the sink before tip toing his way over and sitting down softly on the edge of the coffee table just in front of the couch. He runs his hands through Yoongi’s hair – hands catching on hardened hair jell. “Yoonie, you should move to the bed.” He explains softly. “But I’m sleeping.” Yoongi counters in his deep baritone, lip pouting out in a child-like manner. Jimin smirks. “You can sleep in the bed.” He explains. “I have to go to work now.” Yoongi’s eyes snap open at the sobering reality that they’re going to be separated again and his hand snakes up to interlock with the one Jimin had been carding through his hair. “You could just stay?” He asks in that persuasive way that always made Jimin cave just a little bit. He kisses the palm of his hand and Jimin giggles. “But I like work.” Yoongi rolls his eyes irritatedly. “I know. It’s the only reason I still allow you to go.”

Jimin scoffs. “And when you say allow me to go, you obviously mean; don’t complain when I make my own decisions.” “Just stay already.” Yoongi grumbles like a whinny child. Jimin pulls their interlocked hands to his mouth and smacks a sloppy wet kiss to his knuckles. “Will I see you tonight?” Making a face at the slobbering mess on his knuckles Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe, I’ll let you know.” “Okay, please do.” Jimin adds leaning foreword and capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s needy and passionate and full of all the unspoken want and loneliness that they are both filled to the brim with. And even though it feels like hours – the kiss is incredibly short and broken all too quickly. “Love you.” Jimin bids in goodbye, pulling himself up from the coffee table. “Love you more.”

“Good morning Mr Min, looking good again today.” A cheerful and peppy voice greets that can only be that of doorman to their apartment block – Mr Choi. Jimin smiles, teeth and gums on show. “Good morning Mr Choi. I’m beginning to wonder whether my husband has paid you to shower me with compliments every morning.” There’s a glint in Mr Choi’s eyes that only comes from years worth of teasing the younger generation. He was supposed to have retired a few years back, but the old man was stubborn and one of those people who felt more like themselves at work. He was pretty tall and still pretty youthful looking, and if he wasn’t capable at his job Yoongi would have kicked him out on his ass by now. But Yoongi was soft and respectful when it came to his elders. A good trait instilled in him throughout his youth. If Mr Choi wanted to carry on working, Yoongi wasn’t going to deny him that happiness. But he would station a few more men around the building just in case. “Even if your husband were to slip me more money to do so, I’m a man that doesn’t tell lies.” He chuckles, voice a little raspy from the early morning air. Jimin smiles. “You’re too sweet Mr Choi. All this flattery will go to my head.” Jimin swats a hand at him dismissively before casting his eyes out to the empty street in front of the apartment block. “Is Hobi-hyung not here yet?” “He called to say that he’s running behind a little.” Mr Choi explains with a knowing smirk. “Late night.” Jimin sighs. “Yoongi too.” He tugs his bag higher up his shoulder before leaning his hip against the counter. “Is something bad happening Mr Choi?” “I wouldn’t know, Mr Min, no one tells an old man anything.” Mr Choi smirks. That was completely untrue – Mr Choi knew everything. A honk of the sleek black BMW from outside snaps Jimin’s attention from Mr Choi just long enough for him to slip out from the security desk and open the door. “Have a nice day, Mr Min.” “You too, Mr Choi.” Jimin smiles slipping through the door held open for him.

Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Jimin shuffles out into the crisp autumn air and straight into the front seat of the car. “Good morning, Hobi-hyung.” He greets bubbly. “Morning, Mochi.” Jung Hosoek – the personification of sun and rainbows greets peppy as always. Jimin’s eyes rake over the disheveled appearance of his hyung of which is contrasting so well with his chipper voice. Hoseok’s suit is far less than fresh, crumpled and crinkled in the worst ways; tie pulled down so low from his neck there’s not really a point in wearing it. The top three buttons of his wrinkled to all hell white shirt are undone and his chestnut brown hair is flopping unkempt around his face. Hosoek typically has the most beautiful golden tint to his skin, but today he looks almost gauntly pale. His eyes sunken into dark purple bruises in a look Jimin has seen all too well on his husband. “Jesus hyung, you should be at home resting.” Jimin scolds, running a hand through Hoseok’s hair that’s wilted into his dark round eyes. He pushes it back from his tiredly smiling face in some attempt at getting some order back into it. Hosoek, in his typical bubbly way, batters Jimin’s hand away in his best attempt at getting Jimin not to worry about him. “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” He beams flicking the car into drive. But as he pulls out into the harsh Seoul traffic – yawning deeply as he goes – he swerves harshly to avoided a car he hadn’t seen in his sleep deprived state. “It wont be if you keep driving like an idiot.” Jimin wines worriedly, small body flung about in the big front seat even though his seatbelt is securely fastened. “Pull over, let me drive.” Hosoek chuckles, battering another dismissive hand Jimin’s way. “I got this.” “You’re driving on what – little to no sleep? Pull the fuck over hyung, I don’t want to die today.” Jimin reasons, voice stern but steady. Hosoek rolls his eyes, his irritation harder to cover than he usual considering how exhausted he is. “I’m perfectly capable of driving us to school, Mochi, so just sit tight.” Jimin lets out a huff, folding his arms across his chest like a child. “Pull over before I call Yoongi.” Hosoek chuckles at what he sees as an empty threat. “Of course you will.” “He’s sleeping right now.” Jimin muses, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I wonder how well he’d take to being woken up at the knowledge that you’re being unsafe with me in the car?” “You wouldn’t dare.” “You know I would.” With only a few seconds debate, Hosoek screeches tires across asphalt as he pulls up along the curb and flings the car into park. Jimin unbuckles his seatbelt and slips himself across the middle console to plop himself in Hosoek’s lap. Hosoek lets out a chuckled yelp. “Parking it right here Jimin?” He jokes. “Either move, or I’ll drive like this.” Jimin explains with his own eye roll add on for extra affect. With skilled smooth moves, Hosoek slips effortless out from under Jimin’s little body and flings open the drivers door simultaneously. Jimin can see the muttered curses that are wrapped around Hoseok’s

lips as he rounds the car. But they’re conveniently silenced as he throws himself into the passenger seat his signature smile back on his face. Jimin shoots him another worried look, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he does. It was just so unlike Hoseok to be so tired to the point he’s acting irritated. Hosoek was one of the kindest and brightest souls that Jimin had come across after all. Hoseok raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “Well, lets go then before we’re late.” He orders strapping himself in. Jimin smirks sarcastically shooting an; “Of course, your highness.” Before gently putting the car in drive and slipping effortlessly out into the Seoul streets. “Now, I’m going to drop you home and then get myself to school.” “Jimin.” Hosoek warns low and evenly. Hoseok’s voice is usually so loud and bubbly. A voice that many people find annoying and tended to tune out, but for Jimin it was a voice that came with a warm feeling of softness and comfort. Hosoek carried the greatest weight of care and worry in his loud words. Of which took many people so long to find because Hoseok was a little eccentric. “Jimin huh?” Jimin muses already driving on course to Hoseok’s dingy little flat in Hongdae. “Pulling out the big guns using my name there.” “You know I’m not gonna let you take me home and then drive yourself to school.” Hosoek explains, voice worryingly soft and quiet despite the yawns he’s trying to fight down. “Yoongi wouldn’t allow it, heck I wont allow it. Take us to school.” Jimin shrugs. “I’ll be fine. You however, will not.” He spies Hoseok out of the corner of his eyes, his body unanimated and slumped in the front seat – looking so much like a Duracell bunny that’s run out of juice. “You’re not any good for anyone like that. It wont be much different whether you are or aren’t with me today, but if you aren’t you can sleep up and come meet me after school.” “Jimin.” “Hosoek.” Jimin counters sternly. “Even Yoongi gets to sleep for a little while, why can’t you?” “I don’t like this.” Hosoek grumbles, the negative sound something so rarely heard through Hoseok’s lips. “You know the rules.” “Then I take full responsibility for what happens today.” Jimin replies. “I’ll message Yoongi and tell him what happened. I’ll keep you updated every hour with messages as to how the day is going. Just – please, for not only your own sake, but mine, go home and rest.” There’s a long pause in which Jimin can practically hear the cogs and gears twisting and turning in Hosoek’s head as he grapples and debates with himself on an endless loop. “Fine.” He irrevocably replies through a heavy-duty sigh, just as Jimin turns down his road. “Man, you must be incredibly tired to be agreeing so easily.” Jimin jibs. Hosoek shoots him a death glare that’s supposed to make people shake in their boots, but all Jimin sees is a pouty teddy bear. “Shut the fuck up.” He supplies unbuckling his seatbelt before Jimin’s even stopped. “One message every hour, drive slow, let me know if you think anything is weird.” He explains, eyes trained on Jimin’s, and a finger pinning the younger in his seat.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, go and rest Hobi-hyung.” “Mochi, I mean it.” Hosoek adds, voice darker and more persistent than before. “Anything seams weird, call me.” And Jimin nods, hard and certain because if there’s one thing he’s learnt over the years of being with Yoongi – it’s not to question orders from him or his men. “I will, I promise.” And with a final nod, pleased with the promise placed between them, Hosoek’s face splits into the huge grin that Jimin is so used to seeing. He slide out the car, lets out a little wiggle and a double wave before shutting the car door and shuffling towards his apartment.

___________ Jimin had always liked teaching. He enjoyed being able to show children problem solving skills that would help them through their studies and later in their lives. He liked being a role model for the kids, someone for them to lean on throughout their ever-stressful lives. But most of all, he liked the way children thought and the way they acted. There was never a dull day, never an uninteresting topic of conversation and there was always something funny to behold. Which is where he currently found himself, stood at the doorway to 1-5’s classroom, watching as the boys kick a rather large ball amongst themselves. Their feet were bare in their slippers all their socks folded together to make said large ball. Loud rumbling laughter echoed through the room and down the halls at the intense concentration and absurdity to it all and Jimin just couldn’t find it in himself to scold them. “Do I even want to know?” Jimin asks to no one in particular. One of the more quiet girls, who reads more than she speaks, caught his eye and shrugged teasingly, before slipping his eyes back to her book. “Guys the bell went, you should be sat down.” Jimin tries once more, dumping his basket full of teaching goodies on the desk and placing his hands on his hips. “Seonsaengnim! Give us five more minuets, we’re at a personal best!” One of the boys shouted over the low chanting of numbers being counted by his fellow teammates. Jimin rolls his eyes. “And what’s your personal best?” “12.” One of the girls sighs from the back of the class, clearly bored with the ridiculous game that had taken hold over their class. Jimin laughs. “If you can get to 60, I’ll give you all perfect scores on your next test.” A roar of excitement and challenge erupts in the classroom. “But, you only get one try.” He adds and the shocked gasps and groans that echo back made Jimin cackle evilly under his breath. Needles to say, the boys got to 18 before the sock ball suddenly loses it’s perfect trajectory, flinging itself to the other side of the room and landing in one of the trash cans. “Guess you’ll just have to study for that perfect score.” Jimin snickers. “Sit down, let’s start class.” The students file exceedingly reluctantly back to their seats, wasting another 5 minuets to do so when it should only have been a few seconds.

To say the school Jimin taught at was one of the more – notoriously bad schools was an understatement. “Seonsaengnim! Where’s you’re husband?” A child bellows from the back of the class, anything to keep them from actually studying. Jimin had begun writing out the target structure on the board, little arms stretching as high as he possibly could. “Why do you want to know that?” “Because you drove yourself to school today.” Jimin chuckles, placing the chalk back in its place and pulling their worksheets from his basket. “I’m more than capable of driving myself to work you know.” He could practically hear the eye rolling from his sarcastic 1-5 class. “But he always drives you.” Jimin snaps his eyes in the direction of the voice. “Who always drives me?” He asks passing handouts to the first kids in each row. “Your husband, and he’s not here today either, where is he?” A different voice asks and Jimin’s eyes snap across the room too it. He hands the last row their handouts. “Write your name at the top.” He explains offhandedly. “I’m really confused, why would my husband come to school?” He adds. “Because he’s the 1st year gym teacher?” Another child explains like it was the most obvious thing in the world. If Jimin was drinking he would have spit the liquid all over the front row of kids. “Are you talking about Jung Hosoek seonsaengnim?” “Well duh!” “You think we’re married?” Jimin clarifies again and he isn’t sure if he’s about to burst into endless giggles or stare horrified at the floor for hours on end. Hosoek, Jung Hosoek – basically his brother. “We have different surnames you idiots.” He scolds mockingly. Giggles erupted from his lips and he’s thankful his body opted for the later option. “I told you.” It’s one of the girls that speaks up this time. “He’s cheating on his husband with Jung seonsaengnim.” Jimin can’t help the laughter that flows from his lips – wholehearted and passionate. “You’re all idiots.” He adds before shouting out the page number in their textbooks to turn to. It’s already 15 minuets in to the lesson and he can barely contain his laughter as he struggles through the beginning instructions.

____________

Sometimes, when Jimin has a few minuets to himself, he likes to look out at the High School kids he saw and taught every day and wonder what they would be doing in 5 years time. Hosoek always has a keen eye at picking out which kids would end up on the wrong sides of the law and which ones

would pull themselves from the gutters and do well. He would spend more time with the kids he could see going down the wrong path and push the kids he could see doing well to their limits. It’s always so black and white for Hosoek – good or bad. Yoongi is the same; everyone in his little world is the same really. But Jimin just can’t see it like that. The world is always a half full glass to him, and though he can see anger and disobedience sparking through some of the kids he teaches, who was he to know for certain that they would grow up to be bad? He’s been questioning what constitutes as good and bad recently too. He can’t bring himself to see it being all black and white. Killing is bad, yes. But if you are protecting yourself from being attacked and accidently kill the attacker is that a bad thing? Because the attacker was being bad to begin with so it’s just self defense, surly? “I think we’re going to have to call the police.” He hears the head of 3rd year muttering frantically with the homeroom teacher to class 3-3. “This is far more serious than just a simple fight between boys.” He had overheard about the fight that had broken out along the 3rd year corridor just before 4th period. The two boys involved Cha Wonpil and Jeon Jungkook were no strangers to fights within school. However, this incident had gotten a little more heated, with Jeon Jungkook pushing Cha Wonpil down a flight of stairs after his fist collided nastily with his nose. The 3-3 homeroom teacher titters. “A bad egg that Jeon kid, he’s on a fast train going nowhere.” “Maybe it would be for the better to just expel him.” The head of 3rd year concludes; there isn’t an ounce of sadness in his voice. In fact Jimin found himself shuddering at the distinct traces of thankfulness in his voice. Jeon Jungkook was a troubled child not a troublesome child, and the way that people brushed him off as a nuisance made Jimin’s stomach churn and blood boil. No one had bothered to ask Jeon Jungkook why he acted out, why neither of his parents ever came to school when they were called or for parents’ visits. No one bothered to look too closely as to why his uniform was always dirty and ripped. No one seamed to want to care either as to why the boy grew skinnier everyday and was constantly tired. Jimin wasn’t an expert, but he had picked up a few things from his studies and adventures working as a teacher. There was more than meets the eye with kids and Jeon Jungkook was no different. Mochi 3:35pm Do you think Jeon Jungkook is good or bad? Hobi 3:36pm Who? Mochi 3:38pm Jeon Jungkook, 3-3, likes bowling and Japanese manga. Hobi 3:38pm Oh wait, is this the kid that’s always getting into fights? Mochi 3:39pm Yeah, I suppose he is. Hobi 3:39pm Bad kid going down a bad path, trust me.

Sometimes it was hard to trust Hosoek’s opinions, even if 9/10 times he was right.

____________

Hosoek isn’t coming to collect him from school. He had been called to sort out something else and wouldn’t make it in time. Jimin doesn’t mind too much, he understands just how busy Yoongi and all his men get and he isn’t about to get in the way of that. But the aching and creaking from his body is screaming at him to get his ass in bed. But he’s worried about the effects of a heavily exhausted human behind a metal death trap. He had scolded Hosoek for the exact same reasons just that morning, after all. To be fair, the school isn’t too far from home – a five min walk to the subway and then four stops to their closest station to the apartment. It’s probably about 20 minuets if he pushes it, but it’s safer bet than risking crashing a car. He pulls his coat tighter around himself and hefts his bag more securely on his shoulder before setting out into the street lamped illuminated streets of Seoul. Jimin didn’t think he would fall in love with Seoul so quickly and so completely. He was raised in the beach shored sunny skies of Busan, of which couldn’t really prepare him for the neon metropolis that South Korea proudly called it’s capital. It was always lively, always thriving and always interesting to Jimin. His eyes wondered over something new and fascinatingly different from his Busan youth with every glance across the streets. It never ceases to amaze him how every corner turned in Seoul was different from the last. Not that Seoul is perfect – far from it. There are more drunken office workers than public bins, more litter crushed under your feet than freshly fallen autumn leaves in a forest and smoggy air that made the healthiest of athletes sick. He knows it isn’t safe to walk around late at night on his own. He was constantly hearing shit happening in random notorious pockets of Seoul and know they were to be avoided at all costs. Whenever he walked the streets alone, whether light or not, he knew to hold his bag as tight to his body as possible and keep a vigilant eye. It isn’t just because he lives in Seoul – Seoul is shady sure, but it’s nothing unexpected that comes with living in a big city. He supposes every child of the modern era is taught to be vigilant in the way that Jimin was. To not follow strangers, or take candy from strangers, or walk alone late at night. The list of rules are long and unwritten, but well known amongst everyone. But he knows he’s far more attuned to the dangers of the world now that he’s married to Yoongi. Far less naive than that 20-year-old boy stepping of the train in Seoul ready to start a new adventure out in the big wide world. He has numerous people coming down on him to stay focused and wary. So many people teaching him tricks of the trade so that his eyes were opened to things that they never once were.

Mochi 5:50pm Yoonie, are you busy? Yoongi 5:50pm What’s the matter? Mochi 5:51pm

I’m being followed. I think they waited for me outside school. It’s two people. Yoongi 5:52pm Where are you? Why aren’t you in the car with Hosoek? Mochi 5:53pm Hobi-hyung was busy. I was selfish. I’m sorry. Yoongi 5:53pm Turn on your location. Yoongi 5:55pm Good. Now, head straight for 4 blocks and take a right into the first warehouse you see. Understand? Mochi 5:55pm Okay. This isn’t the first time Jimin has been followed. But Yoongi had been adamant that it would never happen again, ever since things went too far last time. Jimin rarely walks around the Seoul streets on his own, and even when he does he knows he’s being watched like a hawk by hidden associates of his husbands. When they had first started dating – of which seams almost like a lifetime ago to Jimin now – he had been followed home and approached at least three times a week. And every single time it scared him to his core. He would never get used to this; he knows that. And although he likes to complain about the fact he’s protected more than the Queen of England, the fear that constantly seams to bubble it’s way up in him was thankful for the protection. Jimin is a stubborn, strong, independent man of the 21st century, but by god he knows that the overprotective procedures put in place around him are really worth it. The street is fairly busy as he tries to keep his pace the same so as not to alert the two guys behind him that he’s caught wind of them. He’s not sure where his sixth sense of knowing he’s being followed comes from. He supposes it’s just a skill picked up after it happening so many times. But as he hears his shoes pat lightly on the cement, he can clearly hear the echoing of the two sets of shoes mimicking his steps getting closer with each one. They were still a good distance behind him; a distance Hosoek referred to as the ‘opportune space’. In which, a person could keep an eye on their target and their ticks without bringing attention to the person of whom they were tailing. Unless, of course, you had a trained eye for this thing. 4 blocks has never seamed like a very long walk to Jimin before, but with every step he feels as though the 4 blocks are stretching longer than usual just to tease his poor heart and nerves. He clutches his hands so tightly into the material of his bag strap that he’s wondering if he could very well rip it in half. His breathing is ragged like he’s been sprinting 4 miles instead of strolling 4 blocks

and he feels a sheen of sweat drip down his neck uncomfortably. Around the third block, the pavement turns into an alley alongside a park rather than along the main road. The path narrows and the streetlights are spaced further apart. He can hear children’s giggles and parents scolding from the park and it brings a sigh of relief from his lips involuntarily. But then he hears the echoing footsteps speed up ever so slightly, the distance decreasing to the point he can see their distorted shadows stretched out on the pavement near his own. He feels his breath catch in his throat, his hands gripping impossibly tighter as the smell of lingering cigarette smoke fills his nostrils. The moment you can smell them, you know they’re too close. He’s only meters from the warehouse that Yoongi has told his to go into. There are rows and rows of them, the street of apartments and houses breaking into an industrial area. The first one looms large and bright before him like a beacon of hope – and he doesn’t think twice. His feet stomp onto the pavement at a faster and harder level as he breaks into a sprint. The sudden movement catches his pursuers slightly of guard and is exactly what he hoped for as he gains a few seconds head start of them. His chest is aching with the stinging cold gulps of air he’s inhaling – pushing his body as fast as it can just for a few meters more. His hands are shaking when finally, finally, came up to the silver doors of the warehouse and he pushes at them with all his strength. They don’t budge. The two men are catching up now, and he can practically feel the smugness radiating off of them as they rounded on their cornered prey. He bangs his palms against the rough and rusted door with all his strength, desperation fueling his movements and adrenaline finding any means possible to keep himself alive. But suddenly, hands came down on his shoulders and spin him around before slamming him back roughly against the door. He can feel metal dig uncomfortably sharp into his back, his face scrunching in pain and an involuntary whimper escapes his lips as another calloused hand grips at his jaw tightly. He can feel hot soju stenched breath fan across his face as chuckles push themselves onto his skin, their grip tightening ten fold as Jimin struggles in their clutches. “Don’t fight, Mochi, it’s useless now.” The voice is deep, laced with adrenaline and excitement yet it sounds exactly like every other thug Jimin has had the misfortune of crossing. He snaps open his eyes, vision falling on two men of equal height and build. They look young, at least late 20s, both with raven hair slicked back into the neatest of fashions. They’re donned in suits, one grey and one black pinstripes that hang uncomfortably on their frames and stink of musk. The suits are so wrinkled and old as if suddenly pulled out of a forgotten hideaway because a use had been found for them. The thug’s grins stretch into that of Cheshire cat smiles, dark orbed eyes glistening hungrily. The man in the pinstripes is younger, taller and thinner than the man in grey. His skin is golden dark and under his left eyes is a small cross-shaped scar that looks at least a couple years old. Jimin can feel a slight shake to the kids palms on his shoulders – a shake that he knows all to well as fear masked by adrenaline.

Jimin has realised that the man in grey is only a few inches shorter than his friend and looks as though his ego makes up for those few inches lost. His smile is larger, deeper and more menacing. It’s an intense smile that comes from years of experience that his younger friend just doesn’t have. His hands don’t shake as his grubby fingers dig into the soft skin of Jimin’s jaw. There’s a practiced calm and steady to them that makes Jimin’s stomach flip with disgust. He wishes he didn’t see their faces. In movements all to quick for his frightened mind to keep up with, he feels himself being pulled away from the door causing the unwanted hands to release his jaw and shoulders. He’s yanked away from the disgustingly close proximity of his stalkers and pulled protectively behind his rescuer. “On your knees, hands on your head.” Hosoek’s dark even voice spits, one hand curled all too tightly around Jimin’s wrist, the other round the trigger of a gun pointed mercilessly at his stalkers. It’s a dark edge to his voice that Jimin has never heard before – because there was never any need for Hoseok to get angry around Jimin. The harsh blunt voice is so contradicting to the squealing sun shining squawks Jimin’s so used to hearing from his hyung. It’s so unnerving to Jimin that it sends a horrific shiver wracking through his entire body. The man in grey scoffs a few strands of jelled hair falling loose into his eyes. “Last I checked. Two guns are better than one.” Jimin hears the nauseating click of two more guns being pressed firmly into the backs of his stalkers head. And surly enough, two men he only really knows by face appear from the shadows. “And three guns are better than two.” Hosoek isn’t here to fuck around.

____________ It was clearly that Hoseok wasn’t going to be releasing his grip on Jimin’s arm anytime soon. The grip is iron tight like a vice and yet Jimin finds it somewhat grounding in the horrific outlook of the events of the night. Hoseok had dragged Jimin inside the warehouse after one of Hosoek’s acquaintances had brandished keys and unlocked the door for them. Hosoek had flicked his gun from the stalkers face to the inside of the warehouse, gesturing them to go first before dragging Jimin inside like he was annoying baggage. “Strip them.” Hosoek orders, voice dark and harsh, eyes narrowed ferociously and never once leaving the faces of the men in front of them. His associates do as their told, surrendering the men of their weapons before pushing them onto their knees in the middle of the warehouse. “I really hate to repeat myself.” Hoseok spits, and the stalkers shakily raise their hands to their heads. The warehouse is large, their quiet voices echoing around the large space as if they were shouted. Large blue and grey containers rest in rows as far as Jimin’s eyes can see and low hanging lights droop from the ceiling – rocking back and forth to produce inconstant light. The swaying of lights make Jimin feel like he’s on a boat. That mixed with his sudden swirling head ultimately leads to a churning nauseous feeling building in the pit of his stomach.

The gaggle of them stands in silence, with Hosoek’s gun pointed right between Grey Suit’s eyebrows. The two stalkers have their heads lowered from the promise of death pointed before them. Everything is still and yet everything is moving so fast it’s mixing so many different feels through Jimin’s head. He feels like he’s falling, gasping for air in a claustrophobic space as he realises he’s incredibly and conclusively still petrified. “Hyung…” His voice comes out in a small dry tone that he can’t even recognise. “Shut up.” Hosoek spits, clearly not in the right mind set to be sunshine. Jimin has never even heard his hyung get this angry before, let alone bare witness to it. Hosoek is always fiercely caring and flamboyantly outgoing. His greatest happiness is seeing you happy, he’s always awake at 5am to answer your random late night thoughts and he’s brilliantly funny and thoughtful and strong. When Jimin had been told Hosoek would be his bodyguard he couldn’t help but giggle at the man who was nothing but a ball of fluff and looked like he wouldn’t even hurt a fly. But Yoongi had warned that Hoseok was more than capable at his job and that to see Hosoek serious was to see death. Jimin was beginning to understand what Yoongi had meant and it left a whole new sense of awe towards his hyung – but it was terrified respect nonetheless. After what feels like an eternity, and yet no time at all, the all too familiar headlights of a sleek black Mercedes S Class pulls into the warehouse. The car screeches across the cement so that its left hand side faces them strategically blocking the view of the exit for the stalkers on their knees. The car doesn’t even come to a complete stop before the back door is flung open and shiny loafers are clacking on the cement. Yoongi looks every bit as powerful and intimidating as he did the first time Jimin had seen him. His sharp, cat like eyes are trained on the men on their knees face set in the sharpest of scowls Jimin has yet too see from Yoongi. His hands casually fasten his suit jacket button before he slams the car door shut behind him. The bang rings uncomfortably in the echoing silence of the warehouse and continues to ring in Jimin’s ears long after the sound has actually gone. Yoongi’s jaw is clenched sharp and tight with pure white-hot anger. His obsidian eyes are void of all sparkle that Jimin is so used to seeing. Instead, they bring more uncomfortable shivers down Jimin’s back from their flat, merciless and cold glare. The sleep deprived bags under Yoongi’s eyes look somewhat menacing with the dark icy aura he’s emitting. He pushes his hands into the pockets of the skinny grey slacks Jimin had picked out for him this morning and lets a sneer pull to his lips. “Mochi, go get in the car.” Hosoek orders, hand slipping from its vice grip on Jimin’s wrist. “No.” Yoongi counters, voice deep and authoritive in the vast expanse of the warehouse, eyes still trained on his prey before him. If Jimin weren’t so terrified, he’s certain his face would be mirroring the same baffled look as Hosoek next to him. “What…” His hyung begins only to be silenced by Yoongi’s gruff retort. “I said,” Yoongi’s voice is louder and crisper than before demanding so much respect and authority. “No.”

His shiny black shoes clack against the floor, their rhythmic noises echoing ominously off the walls and crates around them. He swats his hand in a ‘move the fuck away’ gesture to Hosoek’s acquaintances and they scurry away from the stalkers, guns lowered as they retreat into the shadows once more. He cocks his head from side to side as he eyes up the men before him like they’re a five star meal. The man in grey raises his head, eyes locking with Yoongi’s and lips pursed ready for an onslaught of profanity aimed his way. But instead, Yoongi kicks the man in the gut and said man hunches over with a low groan, hands falling from his head to cradle his stomach. Yoongi’s eyes finally snap over to Hosoek, hands still slipped into his pockets as if bored by the whole situation in front of them. “Kill them.” He orders. Hosoek’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “But, hyung…” “Did I fucking stutter, Hosoek?” Yoongi snaps in a voice so cool and void of emotion Jimin can feel his whole body shake with fear. “No, sir.” Hosoek replies after a beat, words gritted out through his teeth. He turns his head ever so slightly in Jimin’s direction. “Go get in the car.” He mumbles. “I said, no.” Yoongi growls across the space. “Are you going fucking deaf, Hosoek? Getting forgetful? Jimin stays. Kill these bastards.” Jimin. Yoongi rarely ever called him Jimin, only when he was angry or needed to be serious. It made Jimin’s knees buckle ever so slightly and a whimper escape his lips. Hosoek catches Jimin just before his knees slam into the cold hard floor. Hands gripped tightly on his upper arm as he pulls the boy back up to his feet. “Hyung…” Hosoek’s voice is practically desperate and pleading. But Yoongi is not hearing any of it. Yoongi lets another small growl of anger snap pass his lips. “Clearly you both need a lesson in the severity of disobeying me.” His teeth are grinding out words as if they are poisoned. “Kill. Them.” Jimin lets another whimper past his lips, bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as he scrambles to find purchase on Hosoek’s leather jacket. He can’t believe what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing. Surly Yoongi wouldn’t do this, surly the man who vowed to protect him for the rest of their lives would snap out of whatever dark place he’s in and pull Jimin away from here. If not Yoongi, then surly kind and caring Hoseok – right now, Jimin would take anything to escape this nightmare. “H-hyung, p-please.” Jimin garbles, voice shaking so much with fear he’s surprised he’s making any sense. “I’m sorry, Mochi.” Hosoek sighs, voice void of all the anger and darkness it once had, sadness and guilt lacing it instead. His eyes are so heavy with appologise and regret before he pulls them away from Jimin’s face unable to bare it anymore. “N-no, I-I can’t, Yoonie – “ Jimin’s voice is hysterical now. He turns his eyes to that of his husband’s, a one last ditched attempt at trying to find any reason or trace of sense in him. But Yoongi’s eyes are back and locked with the hunched pathetic frames of the two men who knelt

before him. Two gunshots ring so loudly in the silence that Jimin can feel them pierce through his ears to the point it feels like they’re bleeding. The sounds of lifeless bodies falling unceremoniously to the floor are muffled in his ringing ears – he can hear screaming but for the life of him can’t understand why. He falls to his knees, Hosoek letting him drop this time as his eyes blur from collecting tears. He can barely see the remains of the stalkers, all he can register is the loud screaming, ripping through the air like a jagged knife. A harrowing horrifying scream that makes his skin crawl. He raises his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to block it out – but it still rings out clearly in the warehouse. He feels warm calloused hands wrap around his wrists and gently prize his hands away from his ears. “Sunshine, you need to breath.” Yoongi orders, at least Jimin thinks it’s an order but it’s laced with far more kindness and calm than his voice had been moments ago. Jimin takes in a staggering breath, gasping for air he hadn’t realised he needed and the screaming stops. It takes a while for his brain to register it had been his own screaming tearing through the silence. He gulps down lungful’s of air like a starved man, hands balling into fists, suspended in front of his face in Yoongi’s grip. “Baby, steady breaths, breathe with me, come on now.” He soothes, voice so calm and so caring. Yoongi exaggerates his breathing, reaching a long finger away from Jimin’s wrist to lift his chin up, locking eyes with him. Jimin can see the spark back in Yoongi’s eyes, the dark orbs endless and liquefied as they searched his own in guilt and worry. His milky skin has a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, like he’s suddenly been reanimated. Soon Jimin’s breathing evens out and is replaced with sobs that leave his body completely limp as he collapses in on itself. Yoongi is there to catch him, arms easily slipping away from his wrists and around his body, pulling his up into his arms bridal style. Jimin continues to sob as Yoongi stands to his feet, pushing Jimin’s face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, shielding him from the mess on the floor. “What was the point in that?” Hosoek shoots angrily. “That could have been him, Hosoek.” Yoongi explains calmly. “I don’t think either of you really understand just how desperately the scum bags of Seoul want their hands on Jimin.” “I do.” Yoongi sighs deeply. “You don’t. Else you wouldn’t have left him to walk home alone.” Hosoek doesn’t reply, his silence is guilt and repentance enough. “I thought you wanted him to be kept away from all this, he doesn’t belong to this darkness.” Hosoek whispers. “That may be so,” Yoongi begins, shoes clacking on the cement as he makes his way back over to the car. Jimin’s sobs are quieter, more like emotional hiccups and staggered breaths. “But sometimes I think he forgets who he married.” He brushes some loose hair away from Jimin’s face, his eyes are

scrunched up so tight and fingers clinging to Yoongi’s suit for dear life. “He married the head of the biggest Mafia group in the whole of South Korea, after all.”

Chapter End Notes

Ayy what happens when you get writers block on your other stories? Start a new one~~ ( ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)‫و‬ This is gonna be kinda episodic? I dunno, we'll see how this goes cos I've got a few ideas I want to write about. Apologies again for the bad grammar and spelling, it's all un-beta'd so forgive my sins ヾ(ﾟдﾟ)ﾉﾞ

In Sickness and in Health Chapter Summary

Jimin and Yoongi talk things out and Jimin gets sick.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Jimin wishes he hadn’t seen their faces. Yoongi had explained countless times before that even if he does see their faces before he kills them – everyone looks generic and expendable to him. Jimin can’t think like that. Because they’re someone’s child or someone’s lover or someone’s parent and they can’t ever just be ‘generic and expendable’ to him. He saw their faces before they died and now he would carry that image with him forever. They lived, they loved, they learned – but they’re gone now. This isn’t the first time Jimin has witnessed people being murdered. He’s ashamed to admit that this makes it the third time. It makes Jimin’s skin crawl with how disgusted he feels with himself. But he knew it was an unavoidable mater when marrying Yoongi, death follows him like a shadow. He wonders how Yoongi and all his underlings have become so numb to it. They’re all so used to death as it clings to them like a fine perfume, never even giving a second thought to it after the deed is done. And yet all Jimin can smell is copper and taste the anguish on his tongue for days afterwards. He will never be used to death. “You’re shivering, is the water too cold?” The voice of his husband asks gently. Jimin simply shakes his head. He won’t be able to stop shivering for a while regardless of the temperature of the water. Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin’s shoulders, pulling his back flush against him and pressing soothing kisses to Jimin’s temple and wet hair. The bath water sloshes around them from their movements, some of the soapy water escaping down the sides of their unnecessarily large tub. It’s not unnecessarily large; it’s the perfect size for both of us. Jimin almost finds himself smiling at the memory. Bang. Bang. He flinches and Yoongi stills his movements just for a second. “Talk to me.” Yoongi breathes into Jimin’s skin, lips still trailing up and down his temple. Jimin lets out a violent shiver before his lips and teeth go back to chattering. “You promised me you would talk to me. No matter what, for better or for worse.” “Till death do us part.” Jimin’s voice is so hoarse and scratched from screaming, quieter and weaker than he has ever felt it go before.

“I need to know whether you understand why I did what I did.” Yoongi explains. His lips never cease in their worship over Jimin’s skin as they make their way down his neck. Jimin shakes his head, body shuddering as Yoongi’s lips press at the sensitive spot behind his left ear. “Sunshine.” Jimin. “You called me Jimin.” Yoongi’s lips stop briefly, “Yes, I did.” He affirms breath ghosting over Jimin’s skin. “I thought I’d lost you.” Jimin’s voice is even weaker if that’s even possible, drawing out in a whisper. “You’ll never loose me, Sunshine.” Yoongi explains, voice not to be argued with. “But I need you to understand why I did what I did. Why I acted the way I did.” “I do, I do.” Jimin whimpers, eyes completely dried of tears even as a dry sob bubbles from his throat. “I just really wish you hadn’t.” He drops his head into his hands, allowing the sobs to wrack through his body again. “Baby.” Yoongi coos, twisting Jimin’s body round in the bath so that they’re face to face instead. But Jimin keeps his face buried in his hands. “Sunshine.” Yoongi tries again. “You promised me. You swore to me that I wouldn’t get involved. You said you’d protect me, and hold my hand through everything. And then you looked at me with dead eyes – you called me Jimin and I wasn’t looking at my husband anymore, I was looking at the Mafia boss that everyone fears.” He sobs into his hands. “Sunshine…” Jimin shakes his head, more water sloshing over the side of the tub. “I was so scared, so terrified and instead of protecting me – you were the one scaring me.” And it’s true. Jimin is terrified of the fact he had to watch two people die and then forever remember what they looked like in their last moments. He’s scared of death, of murder. But more than anything, for the first time since they met – Jimin is scared of Yoongi. He slips his hands from his face and looks Yoongi firmly in the eyes. “You treated me like your subordinate, not your husband.” He clarifies picking himself up from the tub and storming away from him.

____________

For the first time since they’ve been together, Jimin purposefully avoids their bedroom for the soul purpose of sleeping alone. He curls himself into a ball on the couch, so many blankets wrapped around his little frame that he’s become more fabric than human.

He hadn’t bothered to dry himself off properly when he’d gotten out of the bathtub. He’d thrown on sweats and a hoodie and slumped into his blanket nest still practically dripping wet. He can hear Yoongi fussing around in the bathroom, emerging about 20 minuets after Jimin had left, accompanied by a cloud of steam. He’s silent, like the night itself, as he picks up a few things from around the apartment and then leaves without saying a word. Jimin wants to cry again, but he’s shed all the tears he can possibly give. His mother says; that when you physically can’t cry anymore, it means it’s time to pull yourself together and fix things. Jimin isn’t really sure if things are exactly broken, and if they are he isn’t really sure how he can fix things. He’s still so, so, hurt and he’s terrified to try and bring himself to reach out to Yoongi. But Yoongi is right, they had promised to talk through everything. When Jimin had found out about Yoongi’s underground life and Mafia ways the two of them sat down and hashed out details of their relationship that would make it work. Because being in this kind of relationship is hard. And it’s not like Jimin can ask one of his friends for advice on the matter. He’s the only person he knows that’s crazy enough to fall in love with a notorious Mafia leader and marry the asshole too. So their main thing is that they always talk. No matter how silly or insignificant things may come across – feelings and thoughts are still niggling parasites that need to be addressed in order to make things better. And they’re usually pretty good at it – talking that is. To begin with, Jimin wasn’t sure how much he wanted to be involved in Yoongi’s underground life and Yoongi didn’t want him to be involved because he saw Jimin as something untainted and precious. I taint you every day just by touching you. A shiver runs through Jimin’s spine and he rolls around anxiously in his nest, twisting his blankets up further. He’s such a fucking idiot. Talking would work, and yet here he is refusing to do so and is instead walking away form the problem at hand. He’s mad at Yoongi, but he isn’t helping anything by acting like such a coward. Mochi 11:56pm Is he at the office? Namjoon 11:58pm Good evening, Mochi. Yes, he is. Would you like me to send you a car? Mochi 11:58pm Yes please, Joonie-hyung.

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Jimin doesn’t like the main office much, and especially so at night. Even though the only people that tended to be there this late were Yoongi and his close circle. He just can’t help but think all the worst plans are made there during the dead of night. Like some cliché as fuck old time Mafia flick.

Namjoon is waiting at the office entrance for him, with his soft grin pulling at his lips flashing his dimples. Kim Namjoon is probably one of the wittiest, smartest people Jimin has ever met. He’s the same age as Hoseok and yet the two are so different. Whereas Hoseok is bright, bubbly and loud Namjoon is cool, calm and collected. He’s tall and slender and yet Jimin is sure he is single handedly the most destructive creature on the planet. Namjoon would find the most ridiculous ways of breaking things and not even mean to do it. The first time Jimin had met him, the man broke his sunglasses just by trying to put them on. Namjoon’s hair is currently lavender in colour, longer on top with a neat undercut. He’s sporting an all black look of which seams to be a popular choice amongst gangsters, Jimin has come to find. Black turtleneck, tightfitting black slacks and a long black jacket pulled over the top. “Hello, Mochi.” He greets in his deep voice, laced with softness that only Jimin gets to hear. “You look cold.” He comments offhandedly, eyebrow raised at Jimin’s considerable lack of clothing against the cold weather. Jimin just shrugs. “I’m fine.” But his voice betrays him in a rough croak. He can feel Namjoon’s flinch like a dagger to his heart and he furrows his eyebrows. “At least, I will be, after I talk to Yoongi.” Namjoon’s smile has dropped just a fraction in worry – a small movement that used to take Jimin such a long time to notice. Namjoon is very good at keeping his calm and schooling his emotions. “I’ll be heading home now then, please let Yoongi-hyung know, okay?” Namjoon explains and Jimin nods once. Jimin slips through the glass door that Namjoon is holding ajar for him and shoots him a shy little wave as the door closes. Namjoon taps the glass door three times and points to the locks at the top and bottom before heading over to the waiting car. To add to the incredibly cliché stereotypes of mafia headquarters – Yoongi’s main head boss suit is situated right on the top floor. It’s no secret that Yoongi likes being in the highest rooms because he likes the power they represent. And the view’s not so bad either, I suppose. 40 floors later and a play through of Alicia Keys’ Girl on fire in music box form; the doors are pinging open to the small reception area of Yoongi’s office. The receptionist – Kim Soomi – clearly went home hours ago, as her small station is dark and void of life. Jimin likes Soomi; she’s chatty and smiley and always made time for Jimin when the rest of the office workers avoided him like the plague. No one wanted to piss off the big boss’ husband, after all. That was a friable offence. You being rude to Jimin is like being rude to me. And what do you think happens to people who are rude to their boss? The large wooden doors to Yoongi’s office practically squeak in protest as they’re opened and Jimin just stands in the doorway for a few seconds at the sight before him. Yoongi’s office is half the entire top floor with a sofa area to the right, small bar to the left and his large oak desk smack bang in the middle. As in keeping with Yoongi’s taste, the walls behind his desk are floor to ceiling windows over looking the entirety of Seoul.

At the current lateness in hour, Jimin can see that Seoul is nothing but an inky black backdrop. The usual noisy city life is muted this high up in the heavens, and it makes Jimin shiver slightly at how high they actually are. Yoongi is passed out in his large office chair, the desk itself littered with files, books, papers and more pens than Jimin has ever owned in his lifetime. Judging from the darkness of the Mac screen, Jimin can tell the poor man has been asleep for a while now. He always looks so much younger while he sleeps. With his hair falling unkempt about his face, eyes swollen even though they’re closed and mouth slightly open as it puffs out warm even breaths. His head is lolled back on the rest of the chair, hands flopped into his lap and legs pushed out under his desk. Jimin catches his own reflection in the window as he finally makes his way over to Yoongi. He really didn’t dress for the cold weather at all, with nothing more than one of the living room blankets flung over his shoulders and his feet shoved into his ratty old black vans. His hair is wildly untamed after he left it to air dry and then rolled around in his blanket nest on the couch. His usual sun-kissed skin is so much paler in the dimly lit office, with just a slight tinge of red to his cheeks. His eyes are horribly swollen and sadly red, his cheeks puffy and rubbed raw and his usually plump rouge lips are chapped up and colorless. Quietly, Jimin squeezes himself between the space of Yoongi and his desk, butt slipping onto the desk easily and little legs dangling of the edge. He had always been short, not that it bothered him much when his husband was equally as short. But every now and then he cursed his shortness, especially in situations like this when his feet couldn’t touch the ground. But Yoongi had always, well, kind of a kink for it. He said it made Jimin look irresistibly soft and cute, and Jimin was all about pleasing his husband. Before Jimin can even reach out to grab Yoongi’s hands, he can feel his husband’s eyes watching him carefully. Yoongi is not a heavy sleeper; years and years of working in an organized crime syndicate made you hyper aware of everything that goes on around you. The only time Jimin ever sees Yoongi sleep peacefully and deeply is when they’re at home and there’s more than just old man Choi on security detail. Jimin grabs Yoongi’s calloused hands within his own smaller soft ones and pulls his palms to rest against his cheek. Yoongi is cold to the touch, his long fingers encasing Jimin’s blushed cheek like a moon eclipsing the sun. And yet to Jimin, it’s the most comforting feeling in the world. Jimin closes his eyes and nuzzles into Yoongi’s palm, holding it securely to his face, as if at any second his husband could disappear. They don’t speak for a long while. He can feel eyes watching him carefully, waiting for Jimin to make the first move. Yet Jimin can’t seam to find the words he needs just yet. After what seams like a lifetime, he hears the squeaking of Yoongi’s office chair and his hand slips from Jimin’s cheek. But before Jimin can whine at the loss, he feels Yoongi’s long fingers caressing through his hair and scratching gently at his scalp, pulling himself closer to Jimin. Jimin opens his eyes and is met with dark obsidian pupils filled with the most worry and concern he has ever seen from his husband. But more heartbreakingly – Yoongi’s face is completely riddled with guilt. “You’re tough love.” Jimin explains finally in a deep raspy voice. Yoongi opens his mouth to counter his words, but Jimin pushes a finger to Yoongi’s lips to silence

him. “That’s why you did it.” He adds further. “I know what I did was stupid and irresponsible, and I know that you were more than just worried about my safety. I know what life you lead and the world you belong to and I have always been fully prepared to handle all that extra baggage. So long as I got to do it with you. I understand completely the type of relationship I got myself involved in with you and I’m more than happy to be in it. Do you honestly think I would have married you if I wasn’t?” Jimin stutters through a deep breath. His eyes lock on Yoongi’s as his husband continues to sooth his hands through Jimin’s hair. “And I love you, I really, really love you. I love you so much sometimes I’m overwhelmed by it and it’s hard to breathe, hard to just live.” Jimin can hear his voice wobbling so he shucks in another deep breathe to calm himself before continuing. “I trust you with my life, I gave you my life the moment I said ‘I do’. I know that could have been me with the bullets in my head, I know what will happen if I didn’t follow through with your safety procedures. I was so stupid not to do it this time and – I’m so sorry.” He feels another dry sob crawl its way up his throat and Yoongi flinches ready to comfort. But Jimin’s no way near done yet. “Shh, no, let me finish.” He blabbers holding up his spare hand to stop Yoongi’s comforting advances. Yoongi gives one soft nod in understanding and Jimin continues. “But you can’t do that to me. I wasn’t born into this world, Yoongi. I wasn’t made to be a mobster or a mobster’s husband. I grew up in Busan in a single parent household not really knowing where my next meal was going to come from. Not with a silver spoon in my mouth training from birth to take over the family business of murder.” Yoongi snorts and Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. I know I needed to understand just how fucking stupid my decision was. But, like I said, you can’t treat me like your men. I am your husband not your subordinate.” Jimin finally lowers his finger from Yoongi’s mouth, relief and stress escaping from his body now that his little speech is finished. His hands flop onto his lap and fingers tangle together nervously as he watches Yoongi apprehensively for his response. Yoongi’s hands stop roaming through his hair, slipping down his cheeks and neck to his chest and then slip behind Jimin’s back. Yoongi rolls his chair as close to Jimin as possible and buries his face in his stomach holding onto him tight. “Sunshine, baby, I’m the one that should be sorry.” He explains. His voice is slightly strained as his fingers grip tightly into Jimin’s jumper under the blanket. “You’re right, you’re so right I went about it completely the wrong way and I know no amount of appologising can make up for it.” His hands grip tight enough to rip the material and Jimin can feel Yoongi shaking just a little. “Especially seeing as it led to an episode.” Jimin’s hands slide out from his lap and began stroking calmingly through Yoongi’s hair. He can feel Yoongi’s words, soft and warm against his stomach and he feels so small in Jimin’s embrace. So weak and timid and it’s a side that Jimin knows is only for him to see. It brings out a strong need to protect his big scary mafia husband, even though Yoongi gripes that it’s his job to protect them. Jimin sighs; his body feeling content at the tactile comfort form his lover. “Don’t feel bad about that.” He soothes, hands rhythmically twisting in Yoongi’s raven locks. “My attacks come and go with a mind of their own.” “But I was the one to cause it after I promised I would be the one to help you deal with it.” He lets

out a frustrated groan. “I was just so worried. And usually my worry gets taken over by anger because it's a more productive emotion in this line of work. And I was pissed at Hoseok for not following orders and I was pissed at you for walking home alone at night. And the worst images flashed through my brain and I just couldn’t bear to have any of them come to light. So I acted rashly rather then think things threw rationally.” Jimin begins hushing him absentmindedly, but Yoongi is too caught up in his words and thoughts to succumb to Jimin’s soothing motions. “My Abeoji did the same thing to me when I was small. It was the first time I saw someone die.” His voice is so small and Jimin tries so hard to push down the cold shiver that chases through his body. Yoongi is very open with Jimin about his rough childhood. It had taken a lot of work and a build up of trust before he finally did open up. And Jimin constantly reassures his husband that he is always there to listen, wanting nothing more than to be that pillar of support Yoongi so desperately needs. But every time he hears more of Yoongi’s dark memories, Jimin’s heart breaks for him just a little more each time. “I know the affect it had on me, and I thought that maybe you would understand too, ya know?” Yoongi continues, his voice sounds a little desperate. “I reckoned, if it worked for me it’d work for you.” He groans, face completely hidden in Jimin’s stomach now. “God I’m so fucked up.” “Don’t say that.” Jimin counters voice a little harsh. If there was one thing Jimin didn’t tolerate, it’s Yoongi beating down on himself. “You were shown love differently, that’s all.” “But that doesn’t make it okay to show you love in the same way.” Yoongi argues face rising to look Jimin in the eye. He looks even smaller, and the guilt is so prominent across his face it makes Jimin’s heart ache. “I hated the way Abeoji showed love as you put it. I promised myself I would be different, and yet here I am, doing the same fucking thing.” “We’re copies of our parents. They made us in their image.” Jimin explains gently. “But that doesn’t mean we are them, copies are just copies. We have the ability to be different. You shower me with so much love and affection that sometimes I think I could just drown in it.” “But I still…” Jimin hushes him softly once more. “You messed up and I selfishly blocked you out when you tried to talk it through with me. We didn’t talk about it like we promised and we stormed off and stewed and sulked like kids. But that’s okay; we’re not perfect we’re far from perfect. We’re pretty fucked up as far as couples go. But it’s fine, because it’s us and we have means and ways to cope. We talk, we trust, we move on.” Yoongi is silent for a second before his quiet voice asks. “Do you forgive me?” Jimin really wants to say yes. He wants nothing more than to cradle his husband and tell him that everything is okay and his actions are justifiable and he forgives him. But he just can’t. He doesn’t think he can fully forgive Yoongi’s cold way of dealing with him. Maybe one day in the future he can, but not now – not when it’s still so painfully fresh. “I can’t forgive you for what you did.” Jimin explains and Yoongi stiffens, hands gripping on tightly to his sweater like Jimin’s about to slip away from him. “But I understand why you did what you did. I can’t forgive your actions, but I can believe in your feelings of guilt and remorse.” He adds, but Yoongi’s death hold doesn’t let up. “And, I will still love you, even through your shitty decision

making.” Yoongi lets out a long groan, body releasing all the tension it once held. “I thought you were going to leave me.” Jimin scoffs. “After 6 months of marriage? Please. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives.” He reassures. Yoongi snickers, nuzzling back into Jimin’s stomach and letting a content sigh slip past his lips. “I must have lived one hell of a golden past life to deserve you.” He chuckles lightly, the desperate edge of his tone has subsided and it pulls Jimin’s lips into a small smile. “Lord knows that this life doesn’t count for shit.” Jimin giggles. “Cut yourself some slack, for all your bad ways, at least you’re good to me.” Yoongi snorts sarcastically. “Well, when you’re head isn’t swollen from your mafia power trip.” Yoongi smacks lightly on Jimin’s thighs making him yelp out a giggle. “Let’s get you home, Sunshine.”

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“Sunshine, maybe you should take the day off?” Yoongi suggests watching Jimin stagger around the apartment getting his things in order for the day. Yoongi has sat himself at the breakfast bar, sipping casually on his coffee and browsing through the newspaper leisurely. Not budging whilst Jimin hurriedly gets himself ready for work. Jimin huffs, flipping pillows around the living room as he wildly looks for his missing phone. “I’m fine, Yoongi. Or at least I will be when I find my fucking phone.” As if his phone sensed Jimin’s distress, it starts to ring, drawing Jimin towards the cupboard in which they keep the coffee. He snatches it from the cupboard, ignoring the sniggers from his husband in the process. “Hello?” He singsongs down the phone. He turns to Yoongi, who’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow. It’s Hobi-hyung Jimin mouths to his husband who nods once before going back to his newspaper. “I’m sorry, I’m running a little late. Give me 5 minuets.” Jimin pleads sweetly, waiting just a beat for Hoseok’s teasing scolding before hanging up on his hyung. Yoongi is suddenly out of his seat and crowding into Jimin’s space. Capturing him between his arms, the kitchen counter pressing gently into Jimin’s back. “Sunshine, we didn’t go to sleep till 4am, you’ve barely had two hours sleep. They’ll be alright without you for one day.” He pleads even though he knows it’s futile to try and change Jimin’s stubborn mind once it’s set. Jimin rolls his eyes teasingly. “It would be nice to think they would, but they wont. Its mid term tests today.” He explains sliding his hands up and over Yoongi’s shoulders pulling him closer. “What are your plans for the day?” Yoongi shrugs. “The usual, monotonous shit. Nothing exciting planned today.” He smirks a little darkly. “But the days still young.”

Jimin smacks him on the shoulder. “You’re terrible.” He teases before sliding their lips together in the quickest of kisses before pulling away far too soon. “Will you be back late tonight?” “I don’t think so…” Yoongi’s hands slide up to Jimin’s cheeks pulling him back in for another kiss. But he stops mouth so so close, but not touching. Yoongi’s eyebrows are knit together in a concerned frown. “Sunshine, you’re kind of really hot.” Jimin winks playfully. “I know, kind of irresistibly hot.” “No,” Yoongi’s hands slip from Jimin’s cheeks and push away his bangs to rest on his forehead. “It feels like you have a fever.” Jimin leans back from Yoongi a little confused. He pushes Yoongi’s hand away from his forehead to replace with his own. He seams a little warm, but it’s definitely not fever warm. “I’, not that hot. I did just get out the shower.” “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is more insistent now, all joking gone. “I think you should stay home…” Jimin scoffs at him planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “You worry so much.” He retorts before ducking under Yoongi’s arms. “I’ll see you tonight.” He adds before slipping his way out the door.

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Jimin is a little more than worried about seeing Hoseok again after the events of last night. He had not only gotten himself in trouble, but Hoseok too and really it wasn’t his poor hyung’s fault. It was all Jimin’s and he felt terrible for dragging Hoseok down with him. But as Jimin shouts a quick good morning to old man Choi, who is already holding the door open for him, his worried nerves melt once his eyes land on Hoseok. His hyung is leaning casually against the car with a tray of starbucks in his hand. His typical large, heart shaped smile is plastered effortlessly across his face. Jimin’s eyes are snapped immediately to the large glistening shiner, (hidden pretty terribly by makeup) sat on his cheek. Yoongi’s handy work no fucking doubt and Jimin feels a tang of guilt twisting in his gut. “Peace offering.” Hoseok explains, presenting the coffee tray in Jimin’s direction and Jimin reaches for the cup that has ‘Mochi’ scribbled messily across it. Jimin can’t help the smile that pulls to his lips as he digs in his bag and brings out a small white bag. “Peace offering.” He repeats thrusting it into Hoseok’s spare hand. Hoseok opens the bad with an excited wiggle of his eyebrows. “How’d you know blueberry Muffins are my favorite?” Hoseok squeals excitedly. Jimin’s face splits into a wide grin. “I had a feeling.” He replies before his eyes land on the shiner once more. “I’m sorry, Hobi-hyung.” Hoseok slips the muffin bag under his arm and reaches out to ruffle Jimin’s hair like an annoying older sibling would. Jimin shrieks, playfully batting his hand away and Hoseok snuffs out a little

laugh. “So am I, Mochi.” He turns and opens the door for Jimin, easily juggling the coffee and muffin bag into one hand before teasingly bowing. “Your chariot awaits, m’Lord.” Jimin snorts, but slips into the passenger seat, cradling his warm coffee to his chest. Today is going to be a better day – Jimin is going to make sure of that. His tired and aching bones are still screaming the need for sleep. But he’s determined to push through the exhaustion. Today is Friday and he has a whole two days to spend curled up in bed and lazily sleep away the weekend. The weather is steadily getting colder and colder as each day pulls them closer and closer into the throws of winter. December is vast approaching and Jimin is excited at the idea of snow on the horizon. The trees are glistening as they shed their once vibrant orange autumn leaves. Jimin loved autumn, the crunching leaves, the cold crisp breezes, the beginning of oversized jumpers and his birthday celebrations. But winter has many more wonderful things to do that has Jimin practically buzzing in anticipation for. Back in Busan, winter meant hot chocolate by the fire, snuggling under blankets on the sofa to watch Christmas movies, staying up late just to listen to his mother read him stories and baking everything sweet that Jimin can think of. Jimin is a creature of habit, thus his winter traditions haven’t changed drastically since moving to Seoul. Besides leaving his mother in Busan, of course. Habits comfort Jimin, but he wholeheartedly believes Seoul winters are far superior to Busan ones for the sheer fact he gets to spend them wrapped up with Yoongi. Jimin’s hands are warmed beautifully around his coffee as he hunches in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s BMW. It’s such a comforting feeling being contentedly warm when you can feel the cold around you and Jimin’s feeling somewhat giddy. A cold hand slithers over his forehead and lets a long shiver run down Jimin’s spine. It’s so cold and would usually make Jimin squirm uncomfortably, but for some reason the cold touch feels so good. “Damn, you’re hotter than hell.” Hoseok squawks Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, Hoseok’s hand moving along with his forehead. “I know, sexy to boot.” He comments not even remotely ashamed at recycling the same joke in under half an hour. He can pretty much feel the mocking eye roll from Hoseok, even though he can’t see it. “Yoongihyung said you seamed like you had a bit of a temperature this morning. I didn’t think it’d be this hot.” Jimin scoffs, pulling Hoseok’s had away from his heated skin even though his touch feels so comforting. “I’m fine, I don’t have a temperature I’m just a little hot that’s all.” “Mochi.” Hoseok tries to reason, voice laced with worry that makes Jimin feel a little guilty. “You’re more than just a little hot. I think we should get you to a doctor.” It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes then. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m fine, I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t.” Hoseok counters his, knowing Jimin all too well. “Well, if it was really bad, I’d say something.” Jimin justifies. He’s not lying, he knows when he’s carrying too much and he knows when to ask for help. “But I’m okay. All I gotta do is make sure the kids don’t chat or cheat during their test. What’s the worst that can happen?”

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You know how sometimes you say stupid things like; ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’ and you single handedly curse your fate? Yeah, well, that’s how Jimin feels right now as he uses every ounce of strength in his lethargic body to try and pull himself up three flights of stairs. That slight heat to his skin that he was pretty sure wasn’t a temperature seams to have gotten worse and he is sure he’s down right feverish as he shivers through his immensely hot skin. He’s really not sure from where he had managed to call forth the strength to get through 3/5 lessons. But he had sat at the front of each class with eyes scanning through the kids like a hawk and biting down the throbbing pain in his temples from the stress of it all. But now this fever – yes Jimin unwilling admits that he indeed has the startings of a fever – is currently burning like the pits of hell. It’s knocking his whole body out of whack, palms sweaty and hands shaking. Involuntary shivers are bursting across his skin and his head is so dizzy he’s struggling to see straight. The bell will sound any moment signaling the start of 4th period and if he doesn’t get his butt in gear the whole reason he’s climbing this Everest of a staircase will be for naught. Thankfully his forth period consists of patrol and the main job there is getting all the kids back into their classrooms after the break and scolding anyone out of class. The bell rings just as he makes it to the right floor and a very familiar shriek of a voice echoes through the corridor and bounces painfully round Jimin’s skull like a swarm of angry bees. “It’s learning time!” Hoseok singsongs, voice seeping through with its usual peppiness. “Mush!” Jimin smirks as he rounds the corner to see Hoseok wriggling like one of those motion detecting dancing flowers. He’s dancing up and down the corridor, much to the kid’s embarrassment, as he ushers them into their classrooms. He looks like a sheep dog getting all the sheep back in their pens. If a sheep dog was jacked up on cocaine or something and exuberating endless energy. “You sound like a pterodactyl.” Jimin teases causing the children closest to him to snicker in agreement. “Yah!” Hoseok exclaims, knocking Jimin playfully in the arm. It’s not a very hard knock, but in Jimin’s weakened state he’s embarrassed to say he stumbles a little bit at the force. Thanks to the kids being incredibly embarrassed to be seen around Hoseok’s eccentric mannerisms, they’re all ushered swiftly back in their classrooms, teachers present and ready to hand out tests. Jimin has never been more thankful for the blissful silence that fills the now empty corridor. “No need to say thanks.” Hoseok smiles shooting Jimin a thumbs up before sauntering back towards the teachers room. As soon as the coast is clear, Jimin lets out a loud audible sigh pressing his now throbbing hot face to the cool brick of the old school building. The silence of the school corridor is suddenly no longer blissful and he can hear ringing in his ears that sends his brain spinning in his head.

It has been a while since he’s gotten sick. Sick to the point he’s seriously regretting his stubbornness for coming to work. When he was younger, he was a pretty frail kid so sickness just seamed to always be draped over him like a cape. But it was a kind of sickness that just lingered as a tickle at the back of your throat, or an ache in your bones, only needing to go to the hospital once for a case of bronchitis. When he had gotten older he was enlightened to the concept of a ‘balanced diet’ that his eccentric mother clearly had no understanding too. Thus he had taken it upon himself to be the main grocery shopper in the house. He had seen to it that himself and his mother ate more than just take away and drank cheap juices she got free from the local shop round the corner. See, it says right here on the carton it’s one of your five-a-day! And so full of sugar Eomma, seriously water from the tap is free and won’t lead us to an early grave. Jimin was always active, with his love for dance passionately keeping him fit. And not only did he start to see that frail sickness from childhood start to disappear, but he could also see a healthy glow to his mother’s skin that wasn’t there before. The skeleton family, finally looking more alive! “Holy fuck, am I sick.” He mutters as he twists his head on the cold brick just slightly and sighing in content. Just as he’s starting to feel his overly hot skin start to cool, the sound of shuffled footsteps echo up the stairs and his teacher sense kicks in. They sound like the begrudging steps of a child forced to come to school and Jimin’s feet are moving before he even realises what he’s doing. His teacher sense is never wrong, and as he flings himself round the corner of the first flight of stairs he locks eyes with an exceedingly exhausted Jeon Jungkook. Jimin cocks his head, hands flying out to rest on his hips, as he spies the kid that hasn’t seamed to notice his teacher’s presence just yet. Jungkook’s uniform is wrinkled and stained, hair wet from sweat and not a fresh shower and his eyes have darker rings around them than his husbands. His tattered school bag hangs almost in shreds around his shoulders, and his hand is clutching alarmingly at his upper arm, rubbing soothing circles into it. “Good afternoon Jeon-ssi.” Jimin greets, his voice soft in the quiet of the empty stairwell and as gentle as he can possibly make it. The kid stops mid step, head slowly rising to look at his teacher and his eyes are blown in shock like saucers – such a rabbit caught in the headlights. “Good afternoon, Min-seonsaengnim.” He greets, teeth chattering a little. Jimin notices he’s not wearing a coat or any kind of warm clothing to protect him from the oncoming winter. “I can explain.” He begins meekly. Jimin smiles softly. “You don’t need to, but just know you've missed four exams today.” He enlightens. Jungkook looks completely devastated for just a split second before he schools his features and tries to straighten himself up. “Whatever.” He blabbers quickly and offhandedly. Jimin can tell he’s only trying to act tough and it flares his need to help the poor kid. Jimin thinks for a second, arms crossing about his chest. He was always better at reading people than

he let on. He can see deeper than people’s surfaces just from a glance, a talent that Yoongi had admired so much when they had first met. He glances at his watch, Jungkook has only missed 5 minuets of 4th period, and maybe there was something he could do for him after all. “Wanna strike a deal?” Jimin offers and Jungkook looks at his teacher warily, like a rabbit cautious of a fox. “If you’re willing to skip out on a full hours lunch and stay an extra two hours after school, you can still take all your tests today.” Jimin elaborates. “I, can?” Jungkook asks, clearly not convinced in the slightest. Jimin nods enthusiastically regardless of the throbbing pain it causes him. “You do want to take your tests, right?” He asks. “Y-yeah, I do.” Jungkook replies a little panicked. Jimin smiles sweetly, “Well then alright, let’s go.” He announces striding past Jungkook. Internally groaning at making his way back down the three flights of stairs he had just been struggling to climb mere minuets ago. He leads Jungkook to the Principles office, a small prayer on his lips that the man is equally on board for Jimin’s idea as he is. He can hear Jungkook’s dejected shuffles behind him and it only spurs Jimin on more in determination to make sure the boy takes all his mid terms. Jimin knocks tentatively on the Principle’s door, all the while shooting Jungkook reassuring looks. The boy’s gone far paler, mouth hung open in worry and Jimin can see rabbit teeth poking through his lips. He just looks so soft and so young that all Jimin wants to do is swaddle him in blankets and protect him for the rest of his life. Mr Kim – the Principle – calls for them to come in, already stood out of his chair to greet the two of them. “Ahh, Min-seonsaengnim, is everything okay?” Kim Chulsoo is one of the youngest Principles Jimin has ever met and it shows in the way he worked. He’s just as hard working as the previous generation, but is clearly not spun via loyalty to tradition. He’s practical and modern in his ways and doesn’t take anything for face value. He demands respect because he returns it to every one regardless of status or hierarchy. But most importantly, Kim Chulsoo believes that every child deserves a chance – whether they’re badly behaved or not. That’s what Jimin admired most about the man; he doesn’t judge a book by its cover like a sadly high percentage of people do. He takes time to get to know a person before making a decision on them; he has so many chances to spare too, so long as the ones he gives them to work hard for it. Jimin respects Kim Chulsoo and hopes he can be half the teacher that man is someday. “Sorry to interrupt.” Jimin explains smile plastered on his hot face. “But Jeon-ssi has missed the first three tests this morning due to personal reasons.” Jimin isn’t oblivious to the frightened and stiff statue of a boy next to him. He just hopes his reassuring aura is enough to keep Jungkook somewhat calm. “I see.” Mr Kim replies, face composed as he takes in Jungkook’s appearance. Jimin can see gears and cogs turning in Mr Kim’s brain. It's clear that Mr Kim is looking at the boy in the same way Jimin had when they met in the corridor, and it’s exactly what Jimin had hoped.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Mr Kim adds, lending Jungkook a soft sympathetic smile. Jungkook looks surprised at the sympathy. “Th-thank you, sir.” He replies breathily and quick. It’s no secret that Mr Kim is far too busy a man to always be out and about in the school. Thus it was rare that students actually saw or spoke to their Principle, so rumors of him being a scary man were plentiful. “Jeon-ssi is willing to skip lunch and stay behind after school to make up the tests.” Jimin continues. “And I’d be willing to supervise, if that’s okay with you?” Mr Kim lets a small, proud smile filter across his lips. “Who would I be to get in the way of a studious pupil?” He asks, eyes glistening at Jungkook. They glistened in that way that Jimin knows all to well, that every teacher knows all to well. The type of sparkle that comes whilst watching your students grow, your teaching and words finally getting through to them. “You can use one of the spare classrooms on the ground floor.” He agrees easily. “Really?” Jungkook asks, voice rubbery and small. Jimin can’t help but wince at the way it’s laced with uncertainty – like it’s absolutely ludicrous for people to be helping him. As if he’s never been offered a friendly hand before in all his life. “Of course, Jeon-ssi, I hope you do well.” Mr Kim smiles encouragingly, eyes crinkling into crescents. Jungkook lets a small flushed smile spread across his lips. “Thank you so much.” He stutters out, bowing 90 degrees in pure happiness and admiration.

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Mochi 12:45pm I have to stay late today, Probably about two hours extra or so? Yoongi 12:46pm Why? Can’t someone else do it? Mochi 12:46pm I volunteered A kid missed tests this morning and he really wanted to take them I think he’s having issues at home I want to help Sorry >.< Yoongi 12:47pm Don’t appologise. There’s no need to appologise for being an Angel. How about I pick you up myself when you’re done? It’s been a while since we ate take out and watched old movies.

Mochi 12:48pm That sounds like heaven! Love you x Yoongi 12:48pm Love you too, Sunshine Jimin hates lying to Yoongi. He never lies to Yoongi. He supposes this isn’t really a lie; he does have to stay behind late with Jungkook. But Jimin’s not telling Yoongi one very vital piece of information. He’s as sick as a dog. He’s 100% certain now that he’s probably caught the flu or something equally as inconvenient as he’s struggling to keep his vision focused. Yeah, he’s not really lying per say, just omitting things. At least that’s what he’s telling himself as his guilt consumes him. “Min-seonsaengnim?” Jungkook asks. He’s been watching Jimin considerably closely as he munches on his quick lunch. Jungkook’s only got ten minuets to eat before Jimin throws his History test at him, but it doesn’t stop Jungkook from talking. Jimin makes a humming yes noise, his head thumping too loudly in his ears to fully bring forth words to his lips unless absolutely necessary. “You okay? You’re looking very pale.” Jungkook comments. Jimin smiles as breezily as possible – which is hard to do through clenched teeth and also equally as unconvincing if Jungkook’s worried grimace is anything to go by. “I'm good.” Jimin supplies. But his voice betrays him, rough and scratchy and he doesn’t even believe his own words. Thankfully, Jungkook drops it nodding his head to the phone Jimin had pocketed moments before. “Who’d you message?” He asks as if he were talking to a close friend. Jimin laughs – regretting it immediately as it rattles painfully in his head. “My husband.” “Oh yeah, you got married.” Jungkook comments dryly as if commenting about the weather. “How’s that going?” Jimin smiles, the conversation a little weird between them, but he’s glad Jungkook is talking. Most of the time the boy sits stoic as a stone. “Good, I don’t think I’m a very good husband though.” He admits jokily. Jungkook doesn’t seam convinced. “You’re the only teacher that makes their own lunch.” He remarks as if that’s all the argument needed to go against his statement. “My mother is a fiend for take out, I was the only one able to correct it.” Jimin explains. “I think she cried in happiness the day I got married, more so for the fact she’d get to eat take out every day again.” Jungkook laughs, actually laughs and he looks so youthful. “You should smile more.” Jimin comments, lips working before his brain catches up. Jungkook freezes up like he’s just been told he’s going to prison for life, schools his expression, then casually goes about eating his rice. He doesn’t remark back. “Sometimes it’s hard to smile.” Jimin adds, word vomit spilling from his lips unable to stop. “Life is unkind at the best of times after all. But to be able to smile, even if it’s to the most insignificant thing

while life is being tough, is what I believe is true strength.” “It’s time to start the history test.” Jungkook snaps back, pushing his barely eaten lunch back into his bag.

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It’s well gone 8pm when Jungkook has finished all his tests. The boy looks so drained and so exhausted, but he hoists his bag heavily onto his shoulder in a way that suggests he’s got more grueling things to do before the days out. Jimin doesn’t miss the puff of air that leaves Jungkook’s lips – reminiscing of a man pulling on his last straws in life. He’s only 18; he’s far too young to be acting as though the weight of the world rests on his shoulders alone. “Would you like me to take you home?” Jimin offers softly as he locks up the front doors to the school. They’re no way near the last to leave, but it’s a security measure that Jimin takes very seriously. Jungkook startles, bag slipping down his shoulder. “No.” He snaps back quickly. “It’s kind of late, and pretty dark out, I’d be a terrible teacher if I let you walk home alone.” Jimin argues. “I live nearby, I have things to do before I go home anyway.” Jungkook retorts, not looking Jimin in the eye. Jimin sighs. “Look, I’m not going to let you walk wherever the hell it is you’re going, alone. I’m also not going to force you to tell me where it is you’re going.” Jungkook looks wary again, but Jimin’s not having any of it. “So you can either accept my offer willingly, or I’ll force you into the car myself.” Jungkook looks as though he’s about to argue again, but Jimin already has his phone yanked out of his pocket. It only rings once before Yoongi answers; “Are you finished?” Jimin smiles, his husbands voice clearing his head just as little as it brings the reassuring feeling of ‘home’ to his bones. “Sure are, any chance you have a spare car that can send my student to his destination?” “Anything for you.” Yoongi replies, and Jimin can hear the beautiful smirk in his voice. “I’m at the café across the street, come sit with me while we wait for the extra car.” He explains. Jimin’s eyes snap over to the little café and surly enough, there sits his husband with his breathtaking smirk plastered to his face, a teasing raise to his eyebrows. “Idiot.” Jimin snickers full of mirth before hanging up the phone. “That’s that then.” He announces with a big smile to Jungkook. “I’ll treat you to a coffee, come on.” He adds before walking towards the café. Jimin turns back when he doesn’t feel the boy close on his shoes and raises his eyebrows. “You barely ate any lunch, I’ll treat you to a cake too.” He offers in a way that Jungkook can’t refues, before tottering off again.

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“N-nice to m-meet you, Min-ssi.” Jungkook greets with a 90-degree bow that has the boys bag flopping to the floor and head almost connecting painfully with the table. Yoongi chuckles, “No need to be so scared kid, I’m not going to eat you.” Jungkook raises his head, but Jimin can still see the absolute shell shock fear etched into his features. “This is Jeon Jungkook.” Jimin introduces for him, pulling out a chair opposite Yoongi for the boy to sit in. “And what year are you in, Jungkook-ssi?” Jungkook sits, stiff as a board and hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Th-third.” “So young, ahh to be young.” Yoongi reminisces mockingly. Jimin hits his husband on the shoulder. “You’re no way near old enough to be using phrases like that.” He rolls his eyes before turning a soft smile back to Jungkook. “What would you like to drink?” Jungkook snaps his eyes quickly towards his teacher, grateful to be able to deter his attention away from Yoongi. “W-water?” He replies as if asking if that’s okay. “Do you drink coffee, kid?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook’s eyes unwillingly fall back over to Yoongi. He nods once, unable to bring words to his mouth. Yoongi smiles, knowing full well he’s got the kid on edge and loving every second of it. “Their ice mocha’s are really good here, trust me.” “O-k.” Jungkook stutters and Yoongi pushes himself to his feet, excusing himself to wander over to the till. Jimin giggles behind his hand as he watches Jungkook practically melt into the floor after holding his body so tense. “You alright there, Jeon-ssi?” Jungkook looks like he’s struggling to regulate his breath. “That’s your husband?” He asks through slightly panicked air intakes. Jimin nods. “My one and only. He’s not as scary as you’re making him out to be.” “Sure.” Jungkook spits with so much sarcastic venom that if Jimin were more coherent, he would press into it more. But currently, he’s struggling to act natural when it feels as though his eyes are going to leak through his sockets from all the pressure in his brain. Yoongi returns pretty quick; the café is empty seeing as it closes soon, and slides a to-go cup and a bag with a cake inside over to Jungkook. “It’s lemon cheesecake, hope that’s alright.” He smiles, and Jimin has never been more grateful for his husband’s weird 6th sense. Jungkook stiffens again, hands shaking as he takes the drink and food. “Th-thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Yoongi shoots a pearly white sharp smirk that sends warning shivers up and down Jungkook’s back. “My driver is over there.” He points in the direction of a black car parked across the street. “Tell him where you want to go, and he’ll take you.” He explains. “And don’t

worry, he wont tell my husband where it is he dropped you off.” Jimin is a beat behind in following the conversation, and just as Jungkook is about to open his mouth to thank Yoongi again, Jimin lets out a mock offended ‘hey’ and swats his husband’s arm. He’s certain it was pretty forceful a whack, but the way Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Jimin makes him think it probably wasn't. But Jimin’s brain is too fried right now to notice. He lowers his head and rests his cheek on the wooden table; the cold does wonders for his feverish skin. Jungkook stands quickly, bowing 90 degrees three consecutive times. “Thank you, Min-ssi, I really appreciate it.” Yoongi smiles, something soft and knowing behind his eyes. “You’re a good kid, Jungkook.” Jungkook looks disbelieving for a moment, but then cools his features. “Actually, Min-ssi I need to tell you something.” “Oh?” Yoongi asks, slightly intrigued as he props his chin on his hand. Jungkook nods once. “I think Min-seonsaengnim has the flu or something.” He elaborates, voice calm for the first time that night. “He’s been flushed and spacy since we started tests this morning and at one point, he passed out on his desk.” Jimin puffs out his cheeks. “How would you know that? You were meant to be taking a test.” He scolds as best he can. Jungkook doesn’t respond and Jimin debates raising his head properly just to send one of his ‘teacher looks’. But his head feels like it’s been filled with lead and he realises it would take more effort than he has to move it. “I know. Thank you, Jungkook.” Yoongi replies voice smooth as butter and Jimin’s too sick to understand the underlining tone to his words like he normally would. He assumes Jungkook bows one last time before rushing out a hurried goodbye and booking it out of the café. Jimin feels a hand rest on the nape of his neck, cool fingers massaging the unnecessarily hot skin there and he lets out a long sigh. “You lied to me.” Jimin winces. “Omitted information.” He corrects. “Sunshine.” Yoongi sounds exasperated. “It’s the same thing.” “You would have made me come home.” Jimin grumbles into the wooden table. “Of course I would. Because you’re sick, you should be resting.” “If I didn’t sit with Jungkook through the exams he missed, then no one would.” Jimin’s voice is soft and quiet. He doesn’t want to believe those words; he wants to believe that his fellow teachers want the best for all the students, despite the type of kids they are. But saying the words out loud, he’s forced to come to the realisation that they’re truer than he would like. He’s met with a long silence, the dull background noise of cups clinking, coffee machines whirring

and chatter the only thing filling his ears. “I’m sorry.” Jimin adds quietly, he knows he’s in the wrong; he’s been feeling guilty about it all day. He doesn’t expect Yoongi to be okay with what he did, which is probably why he didn’t tell him he was sick. But he knows he’ll understand why he did it. “Alright.” Yoongi sighs in defeat, he sighs a lot when it comes to Jimin he’s noticed. “Let’s get you home before you get any worse.” Jimin nods. “I really want sleep, and I really want cuddles.” “Sunshine, do you want me to get sick too?” Yoongi chuckles as he slowly helps him up from the chair. Jimin scoffs. “You get the flu shot every year. You’re prepared, you don’t get sick.” Yoongi shoulders Jimin’s bag and then wraps a reassuring arm around Jimin’s waist to keep him steady. As they head to the car, Jimin’s wobbly on his feet and he feels like Bambi taking his first steps. But Yoongi keeps him upright and tucked tightly into his side. “I only get the flu shot every year because you don’t and you’re the most susceptible person to the flu I’ve ever seen.” Yoongi chuckles lightly. “I knew I should have made you get flu shots.” Jimin batters his hand in a ‘don’t worry’ gesture. “They’re in low supply and are for young children and old people. I am neither, I can live.” The bell to the coffee shop door jingles as they leave and the cold air hits Jimin in the face like a brick wall. It’s bitingly cold now that the sun has set, and on a usual day he would be clinging to Yoongi to keep himself warm. But his skin is so hot, sweat licking down his temples and hands clammy, that the crisp night air brings a content little sigh to his lips. Yoongi slips his hand over his forehead. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re hotter than hell.” Jimin can’t form much more than a grunt of understanding as Yoongi flings open the passenger door and places Jimin inside carefully. “Maybe we should stop by a hospital.” Jimin shakes his head, “I just want to go to sleep.” His eyes are drooping and he can feel Yoongi’s fingers brushing his bangs out his face. “Besides, you’re the best doctor for me.” Jimin can practically hear the cogs turning in Yoongi’s head. He’s debating with himself over whether he should just melt under Jimin’s praise, or actually be an adult and take Jimin to the hospital. Jimin wants to smirk; he thinks he is if Yoongi’s soft chuckle is anything to go by, but he’s too spaced out to be sure. “Alright, let’s go home.” Yoongi concludes, placing a soft kiss to his hot forehead. “I’ll take good care of you.” And Jimin knows he will.

Chapter End Notes

Oh god, watch me appologise for all the spelling and grammar mistakes every chapter ((´д｀)) I'm horribly dyslexic and yet I teach English for a living! I'm a mess (/ω＼) But hey look it's Namjoonie~~ (●´□`)♡ Anyway, it's flu season in Japan and all the kids are full of nasty germs. PRAY I DON'T GET SICK! (•̀ •́ )

Lean on Me Chapter Summary

Jimin worries that the fact he's ridiculously needy whilst he's sick, may be more than a little inconvenient to his boyfriend of 1 month.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Four years ago Seoul is cold. Scratch that, Seoul is fucking freezing. Jimin’s the type of organised person that would bring his summer clothes with him (as he arrived in Seoul during the spring) and leave his winter clothes to be shipped later. But his mother’s the kind of unorganized person that forgets to send said winter clothes out to him. Even though she’s had ample time and nagging to do it. To make matters worse, Seoul’s the type of fashionable city that sells winter clothes in hot humid summer before you actually need them. Then are all ready to roll out their spring fashions when you’re in dyer need of warmth in the winter – thus Jimin had little to no warm clothes right now. He supposes that's probably why he’s sick. Scratch that, he knows that’s why he’s sick. Because he can layer up on spring and summer clothes to try and maintain some type of body warmth and protection from the cold. But the materials are still thin and flimsy and the wind gets right up under them wracking shivers all up and down his spine. He watches with envy from his window seat in his usual coffee shop, as people walk by with rosy cheeks and steamy breath. So many scarves and hats and gloves and thick fleecy winter coats. Jimin loves scarves, and hats, he has quite the collection in fact. With colours and styles to rival that of the ever so fashionable Seoul. It’s just a fucking shame that they’re all in fucking Busan. He has half a mind not to send his mother anything for Christmas. His throat is scratchy; his nose sniffy, his head feels like lead and his eyes can barely focus through the dizziness that’s wracking his whole body. He can feel a fever tingling away at his skin, but he’s just so fucking cold he can feel himself shivering. He’s about three seconds away from practically crying in misery and he doesn’t care that he’s in public. “Sorry I’m late.” Yoongi’s gruff voice comes first followed by a kiss to the top of his head. Jimin’s not sure if it’s the fact he’s half way to being delirious, but his body is confused as to whether it want’s to beam in happiness at Yoongi’s arrival, or cry over it. He doesn’t want to worry his boyfriend, not seeing as he’s recently been so busy with work. But Jimin is teetering on the edge of a

full-blown emotional meltdown that he knows can be calmed only by cuddles. Jimin shrugs, voice feeling ridiculously heavy on his tongue. “I haven’t been here long.” He explains. His hands refuse to unravel from the warm coffee nestled between them. Yoongi pulls off his long thick black trench coat, unfurls the grey scarf around his neck and hangs it over the back of the chair before sitting down. Jimin has half a mind to reach over for the scarf and warm coat and bundle himself in them. But instead, he lets out a contented little sigh at the masterpiece before him. He’s not sure whether he’ll ever get used to just how goddamn gorgeous Yoongi is. His hair is a little shorter since they last met, not that it’s been long, a couple of days maybe? But it’s not flopping into his eyes like it usually does, and he hasn’t run product through it to keep it tame. It’s got a blue tint to it, just faintly showing up under the direct lighting of the coffee shop but it’s beautiful nonetheless. Yoongi is in the process of removing his black leather gloves; probably to stuff them into his coat pocket else he’ll forget them. He’s clearly come straight from a work meeting if the black pinstripe suit and crisp white shirt are anything to go by. He’s matched his skinny tie to that of his scarf – grey, and his silver Rolex glints expensively on his wrist as always. “Sunshine, you’re staring.” Yoongi comments, an all-knowing smirk gracing his smooth features. Jimin lets another small sigh out contentedly. “Enjoying the view.” He explains and Yoongi chuckles softly. “Did you order?” “Yup. Along with a cheesecake and two forks. Do you need a refill?” Yoongi asks, gesturing towards the cup nestled in Jimin’s hands. Jimin takes a lot longer than he usually would to lower his head to look at the cup. It hurts so fucking bad to move quickly, like sharp sticks are pricking at his sinuses and eyes. “I’m good.” He replies, but it sounds more like a question of confusion. He’s been here a little over 15 minuets and usually his cup would be empty by now – but he hasn’t drunk any of it. The hot cup is bringing far more satisfaction to his frozen fingers than anything else. Yoongi nods, fingers drumming as they rest on the table and Jimin internally smirks. He’s seen Yoongi do this numerous times before – it’s Yoongi’s internal dilemma of finding the best most casual way of holding Jimin’s hand. He’s such a fucking sap. “What did you do with yourself this morning?” Yoongi asks as he internally battles with himself. Yoongi isn’t the best at expressing his emotions, Jimin has come to find, and the two of them know it. But they’re both stubborn asses, and while Yoongi tries to act cool and emotionless whilst he’s dying to act all couply. Jimin is intent on drawing out the soft fluffy side to his boyfriend that only he gets to see. Jimin let’s his boyfriend internally battle with himself for a few more seconds before (slightly begrudgingly) detangling his fingers from the warm cup. He reaches gently across the table and stretches his hand palm up for Yoongi to take. “Had a few errands to run that I couldn’t do during the week.” Jimin explains. He doesn’t miss the contented little smile that flickers across Yoongi’s lips at the opportunity presented to hold Jimin’s hand. He’s quick to school his expression back to one of cold stoic indifference, but Jimin saw the soft look nonetheless.

Yoongi nods, mouth opening to probe into more detail about his monotonous morning. However when their hands come into contact Yoongi’s brow furrows comically fast. “You’re really hot.” “Thank you.” Jimin replies smoothly with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Yoongi stretches his free hand across the table to place it against his forehead. “No, seriously Sunshine, you’re burning up.” Jimin swats his hand away. “I’m not sick.” Jimin explains as breezily as possible – but he’s kidding no one, not even himself. “You’re not one of those people are you?” Yoongi asks with a face mixed in disgust and worry. “What people?” “The ones that are too stubborn to admit they’re sick and pass their germs to everyone else. “ Jimin furrows his eyebrows and regrets it immediately as he bites down a groan of pain. “No.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “If I was really sick, then I’d be at home, trust me. I’ve been sick, this isn’t sick.” He can see the concern and confusion sit heavily on Yoongi’s face but he simply nods once and smoothly moves the topic of conversation on. They sit for an hour and a half just talking – mostly Yoongi as Jimin is having difficulty stringing words together seeing as his head is filled with cotton. Their conversation is what some people would call monotonous and mostly riddled with small talk but to them it’s the best conversation in the world. They’ve only been dating for a month, and the two of them have drowned in the honeymoon period so completely that Jimin can’t see an end in sight. He doesn’t really want it to end either, because this has been Jimin’s favorite time; just getting to know the amazing man he has the pleasure of calling his. “It’s Chuseok in two days.” Yoongi answers Jimin’s question of ‘why he’s so busy recently.’ “A lot of people taking a lot of days off. I want to be prepared for when we start back afterwards.” Jimin has been looking foreword to Chuseok for the sheer fact he gets vacation from work. He loves his job, don’t get him wrong, but a break every now and again is blissful. Especially when you work with loud mouthed and rowdy teens. “I thought you’d work through Chuseok if I’m honest.” Jimin teases. His face splits into a full-blown smile at Yoongi’s mock horrified look. “Well, you are such a work-a-holic after all.” Yoongi snuffs out a small laugh. “I think my mother would personally throw me into the pits of hell if I didn’t go home.” He scoffs fondly. “In fact, she’d make the long ass trip here just to drag my ass back to Daegu and then throw me into the pits of hell.” “I thought you went to school in Seoul?” Jimin’s not sure if Yoongi’s actually said that, it’s ringing somewhere as true in his head, but it’s so fogged over right now. “I did, but my family is all originally from Daegu.” Yoongi beams proudly. “I’m a Daegu boy at heart.” Jimin nods slowly, “So you’ll go to Daegu for Chuseok?”

Yoongi nods. “What are your plans?” Jimin shrugs. “I don’t have any. My Eomma’s working so I’m not gonna go home.” It’s only been Jimin and his mother at home for a long while now. They’re not the richest of people, so his mother always finds odd jobs to work over Chuseok because they pay better. So in the typical unconventional way that they live, the two tend to celebrate Chuseok a few weeks after the actual date. “You’re going to be alone?” Yoongi asks a little sullenly. Jimin is hyperaware of the soft circular rubbing of Yoongi’s thumb against his hand. It’s soothing and reassuring even though Jimin knows Yoongi is doing it out of growing guilt. Jimin can tell his sap of a boyfriend is beginning to feel bad at the fact he’s going to be leaving Jimin all alone over Chuseok. Jimin nods. “But it’s okay, my Eomma always worked through Chuseok so we celebrate together later.” But he’s half regretting that decision now, as it means he’s got to wait another two weeks until he can get his hands on his winter clothes. Yoongi looks completely unconvinced by Jimin’s reassurance. “But the rest of the country is going to be celebrating, wont you feel lonely?” Yoongi asks tentatively. Jimin gives Yoongi’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Honestly, Yoonie, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” There’s a beat of a silence in which Yoongi is just staring at Jimin a little shell-shocked. “What?” Jimin asks, his face heating up more than his sickness is already making it. Yoongi cocks an eyebrow, smirk small and a little embarrassed. “Yoonie?” Oh shit. “Well that jus-just – came right out there didn’t it…” Jimin mumbles blushing a brighter violent red. He unlinks his hand from Yoongi’s and buries his face into them in pure mortification. “I-ignore that. Pretend it never happened, Jesus…” Jimin mumbles. He can hear soft rumbling chuckles from Yoongi, but he’s far too embarrassed to lift his head up to look at the man now. If his feverish skin doesn’t melt him through the floor, then he’s certain his embarrassment will. “Sunshine?” Yoongi’s voice is so soft that it makes Jimin’s cheeks flare up even more. He prizes Jimin’s hands away from his face gently, and Jimin struggles to look Yoongi in the eye. “I don’t want to pretend it never happened.” “Please.” Jimin wines. “My shyness can not handle the humiliation of you teasing me about it everyday.” Yoongi looks like all the male leads Jimin has seen in every single K-drama he’s ever watched. He’s lips are pulled into a gummy smile, eyes looking so gentle as he carefully scans over every inch of Jimin’s face. As if he’s trying to commit Jimin’s face to memory. He looks completely and utterly lovesick and it does nothing good for Jimin’s already weak body. “If we pretend it never happened, then you’ll never call me Yoonie again.” Yoongi explains. Jimin’s not sure how his face is getting hotter and redder by the minuet, his heart thumping painfully

hard in his chest. They’re so close now, Yoongi has lent so far over the table that their lips are almost touching. “Y-you want me to call you Yoonie?” Jimin asks, his head so foggy. Yoongi’s smile is all gums and teeth and blindingly brilliant. “Everyday.” Jimin wines, head falling to lean against Yoongi’s shoulders pulling their entwined hands to rest on the table. “You’re going to be the death of me, Min Yoongi.” Yoongi chuckles as he gives Jimin’s hand’s a little squeeze. “Uh uh, that’s Min Yoonie.” He corrects causing Jimin to wine again. It takes a lot of effort for Jimin to raise his head off Yoongi’s shoulder. Mainly because he’s a needy being that loves the tactile comfort. But also because his head feels simultaneously heavy and light and he’s certain that’s not a good thing. But they’re in public, and the longer they stay like this the longer unwanted eyes pry on them. Not that Yoongi cares, but Jimin’s too shy to handle all that unwanted attention. “I feel bad for leaving you here alone.” Yoongi finally admits. Jimin smiles, though he knows it’s small and no way near as convincing a smile as he wants it to be. “I know you do.” Jimin soothes as best he can. “But I’ll be fine, I promise.” They don’t linger in the coffee shop for much longer, even though Jimin wants to spend as much time with Yoongi as possible. Especially seeing as how he wont get to see the man for at least a week while he’s back in Daegu. But like all good things, it has to come to an end. And as Jimin stands unsteadily to his feet, blood rushing painfully to his head, he realises that it’s probably for the best. He needs to get his ass home and sleep through the next week. Yoongi catches his arm as Jimin stumbles away from the table. “Get up too quick?” He asks with a hint of mirth in his voice at Jimin’s clumsiness. It takes a while for the words to register in his head, simply staring at Yoongi uncertainly. But before Yoongi’s face can morph into one of worry, Jimin let’s out a small painful chuckle. “Oh yeah, head rush.” He covers before carefully steadying himself on his feet. As is always the way, Yoongi is adamant that he drive Jimin home. And Jimin is adamant that he walks seeing as his apartment is only two blocks over and it’s still bright out. As always, Jimin wins for the sheer reason that Yoongi is weak to him. With a kiss that’s far too PG for either of their liking, Jimin is on his way back to his apartment teeth chattering from the cold. He can no longer feel his fingers even though they’re curled tightly in his jacket pocket. His cheeks are so numb against the biting cold and his toes feel like they could break off from frostbite. He’s not sure he’s really registering where he’s going, muscle memory pushing him along the street to his apartment. He’s been stupidly staring at his feet, as if keeping an eye on them will make sure the work without a hitch. He’s not got to far to go, he can get through this little hurdle and then he can finally succumb to whatever the hell it is that’s making him weak. He’s doing well, he’s minuets away from his apartment he’s so sure. But then Jimin makes the fatal

mistake of whipping his head up at the sound of a bike bell. And the sudden movement causes his vision to blur, narrowing in like a tunnel until all he can see is darkness.

____________

“Sunshine!” Jimin is asleep; at least he thinks he’s asleep? He doesn’t really remember, but his eyes are shut and he’s currently slowly blinking them open. His body is moving, it feels like someone is shaking him and there’s also someone talking to him. “Wake up, Sunshine.” He knows that voice; he loves that voice. “Yoongi?” Jimin asks groggily. He opens his eyes properly and there, surly enough, is Yoongi hovering over him. His eyes are narrowed into almost slits, eyebrows furrowing with so much worry that it doesn’t sit well with Jimin. But as his eyes begin to focus a little more and he registers the sheer throbbing pain that’s searing through his head, he begins to piece together what just happened. He scans his surroundings a little trying to get a better handle on what’s going on– and there are people crowding around, nosily watching him. It brings an embarrassed tinge to his face and he groans. Yoongi is holding the top half of his body up, cradled close to him, and Jimin hides his face in Yoongi’s chest. He clearly crumbled like a piece of paper under the weight of his sick riddled body, and must have passed out in the middle of the street. “Sunshine?” Yoongi asks once more, hands tightly wrapped around him. “What hurts?” Jimin groans, forcing himself to speak even though it turns his stomach. “Everything.” He supplies unhelpfully. “I think I’m sick.” Yoongi lets out a chuckle of a sigh, clearly relieved that Jimin is all right enough to make jokes. He places a chaste kiss on the top of his forehead. “I know.” He replies. “Think you can stand up?” Jimin tentatively moves his arms and legs. They’re heavy and jelly like, but he’s sure he’s not so far gone that he can’t control them enough to get off the dirty floor. He hums out a yes, and with the added support from Yoongi – they manage to get him back onto his feet. There’s still a nosy crowd gathered around them. And the reminder makes Jimin’s cheeks inflame a brighter red and hide his face again in Yoongi’s shoulder. He can feel the growl crawling it’s way out of Yoongi’s chest. “Piss off. Show’s over.” He snaps at the spectators and Jimin can now feel his ears tingling red too. He wines and Yoongi hushes him gently. “I’m going to take you home, okay.” He explains and Jimin can tell his tone is not to be messed with. He nods, hands gripping tighter to Yoongi’s coat. “We’re not far, just round the corner. Think you can walk?”

Jimin nods, resolutely taking a step foreword only to buckle from his weak legs. Yoongi is there to catch him and keep him upright as Jimin whimpers. “Okay, okay, it’s alright.” Yoongi soothes again. The next thing Jimin knows he’s been swept off his feet – literally – and is cradled tightly in Yoongi’s arms. He’s not sure whether his head is spinning from the fact Yoongi just picked him up like it’s nothing, or whether it’s from vertigo. But either way, it causes him to pass out again. ____________ “Sunshine.” For the second time in what Jimin feels has only been seconds – he’s blessedly being awoken to the sound of Yoongi’s voice. Whatever he’s lying on is softer than the concrete he had first passed out on. He can’t feel Yoongi holding him, but he knows that he’s near by. His voice is low and soft and not close enough for Jimin’s liking. Jimin whimpers, reaching his hands out in search of the heat from his boyfriend. His hands find Yoongi and Jimin weakly pulls himself into his boyfriend’s space sighing contentedly at the contact. Yoongi’s hands are stroking up and down his back softly and calmingly. Jimin thinks if he were a cat he’d be purring. “You need to change your clothes.” Yoongi explains. “Want me to help?” Jimin hums. “I love it when you undress me.” He mutters. Yoongi chuckles. “Sunshine, not when you’re sick.” Jimin smiles, making no move to leave Yoongi’s embrace. “Are you saying you don’t like me when I’m sick?” Yoongi scoffs. “With the way you’re clinging to me so much? I think I like sick you the best.” He places a kiss to the top of his head. “But you’re overheating and you’ll feel better in clean clothes.” “Yeah.” Jimin agrees, but he’s still not moving. “I promise I’ll cuddle you back to sleep afterwards.” Jimin can hear the smirk in Yoongi’s voice. “Promise?” “I promise.” Jimin nods and reluctantly unglues himself from Yoongi’s side. Yoongi carefully helps the boy sit upright and Jimin finally opens his eyes properly. He’s clearly sat on the couch in his own apartment, the blinds drawn open to the noisy neon lit streets just beyond it. It’s dark out, and Jimin’s really not sure what time it is, nor how long he’s been asleep for and it brings an odd disorienting feeling to him. Yoongi already has clean clothes folded on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the only light on is the one coming from Jimin’s bedroom. With tender hands Yoongi manages to get the sweat soaked clothes off of Jimin and slip him into something warm and clean. He feels almost like a child the way Yoongi is handling him, but he really doesn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed about it right now.

“We should get you into bed.” Yoongi decides once Jimin is dressed again. “I thought you said not when I’m sick?” Jimin chuckles, but it sends throbbing pains through his head that causes him to suck a sharp breath through his teeth. “Easy, baby.” Yoongi soothes. “I don’t have any meds on me. But I asked Hoseok to drop some round.” “I just need sleep.” Jimin counters fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. “This feels like the flu.” Yoongi hums. “And what does the flu feel like?” “Death.” Jimin sighs. “If I could, I’d kill it.” “You can’t solve everything with violence.” “Nothing fucks with my Sunshine.” Yoongi replies placing another kiss to his temple. “Come on let’s get you to bed.” It’s with a combined effort that they manage to get Jimin tucked up in his little bed. Every blanket Jimin owns is thrown over his sheets and he realises Yoongi must have gathered them up whilst he was passed out on the sofa. Jimin makes grabby hands in Yoongi’s direction once he’s comfortably cocooned. Yoongi shakes his head chuckling softly as he crawls next to Jimin on top of the blankets. Jimin’s bed is so small it barely fits the both of them. But neither of them have ever seamed to mind. It means Jimin can crawl closer into Yoongi’s space and the two remain tangled together through the night. He lets out a satisfied sigh now that he’s snuggled in the extra warmth of Yoongi’s arms. Head nuzzling into Yoongi’s chest. “You’re very needy.” Yoongi comments teasingly. Jimin snuffs out a laugh. “You’re only just realising this?” “Hey now, I’m still learning about you Park Jimin.” Yoongi replies mock offended. “You’re not usually this clingy when you’re healthy.” Jimin shrugs. “Harder to hide when you’re weak.” Yoongi nods in agreement. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Yoongi scoffs. “As a possessive person, I’m living right now.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “You’re possessive, over me?” He asks, the thought sounds ludicrous to him. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” Yoongi replies. “Anyone would be possessive over you.” “I’m nothing special.” Jimin mumbles, his eyelids are heavy and he’s not sure whether he’s going to be able to stay awake much longer. “It hurts me you think so.” Yoongi’s voice sounds quite, almost like he’s whispering. But it’s distant,

and Jimin thinks there’s more that Yoongi has said. But he’s already passed out for the third time that night.

_____________ “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is light, too far away from Jimin’s side to be comfortable for him. He rolls in the bed, hyper-aware that his head is still thumping angrily. “Yoonie?” He calls back, eyes squinting in the sudden bright daylight that’s breaking through into his room. Yoongi is softly running the back of his hand along Jimin’s overheated cheek. “Hey Sunshine, sorry for waking you up.” He greets, smile so incredibly soft that Jimin’s wondering if this is a Yoongi imposter. “What time is it?” Jimin mutters turning his head at a painful angle in search for his bedside clock. Yoongi gently pulls his face back into a more comfortable position, flattening his wild hair. “A little after 9am.” Yoongi supplies. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone and worry.” What? “I left some water on your nightstand. And keep your phone plugged in so the battery doesn’t die. I’ll call and check up on you as often as I can.” Yoongi continues. He’s leaving. Jimin’s brain is suddenly thrown into overdrive. He can feel his head shaking and he’s trying really hard to get words out but he feels tongue-tied. He’s not sure why, but he really, really, doesn’t want Yoongi to leave him. He can feel the panic rising up in his chest, suffocating him like a snake around its prey. “I’ll be back after work, yeah? I’ll bring you comfort food.” Yoongi adds, his smile still incredibly soft. Jimin can’t understand why Yoongi is acting so casual about this. Not when Jimin’s insides are suddenly crashing like a violent storm and he’s finding it a little hard to breath. It feels like Yoongi is getting further away from him and Jimin can’t have that. Because he needs Yoongi to stay, Yoongi can’t leave. His hand darts up a little shakily to grab ahold of the one Yoongi has against his face. He’s squeezing incredibly tight and Yoongi gives him a pitying look. “I know, I wish I could stay too. But I gotta get to work.” He supplies. Yeah, that’s right. Yoongi has a life outside of Jimin. Jimin isn’t his be all and end all. Just because he’s sick doesn’t mean the world will stop turning for him. He knows he’s being incredibly irrational and he pulls a weak smile to his lips. But then why does his heart still feel like it’s being strangled? Why do his lungs feel so small and so tight and why is he struggling to breathe?

“Hey, go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Yoongi is slipping his hand out of Jimin’s grip. He’s leaving and Jimin suddenly can’t find any air around him to breathe. He opens his mouth in a futile attempt to draw some kind of air into his lungs, but everything feels a little too much all at once. He can feel tears pricking at his eyes so he squeezes them shut. He wants to scream, he feels like he’s drowning and the panic is bubbling through his veins like a poison. He’s vaguely aware of two hands cupping his face, of his body being pulled into a sitting position and of a voice calling out to him. But he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. He covers his ears with his hands, there’s no air and it’s causing the panic to double. It’s always the same – vicious cycles of panic that fucks his breathing and in turn fuels his panic more. “Sunshine. Stop.” Yoongi’s voice is loud – so incredibly loud even over the ringing in his ears. “Breathe. Breathe.” Yoongi is chanting the word over and over like a mantra. It sticks in Jimin’s brain and all of a sudden his lungs sting as he takes a deep stuttering breath. It opens the floodgates and suddenly there’s now too much air. His breaths are short and fast, pulling through his clenched teeth in harsh bursts. It hurts, like every intake is laced in needles. “Deep breaths, Sunshine.” Yoongi provides. He moves a hand from his face to his chest to feel the intakes of breath Jimin makes. The touch steadies Jimin, eyes still clenched closed, as he focuses on even breaths against Yoongi’s palm. “That’s right, you’re doing so well Sunshine.” Yoongi praises and his words prick more tears in his eyes. He’s going to leave. “P-please don’t leave me.” Jimin stammers airily, eyes shooting open and locking with Yoongi’s Despite Yoongi’s calming voice, he looks utterly wrecked. “Please, please.” It’s Jimin’s turn to chant words now even though he’s still struggling to breathe. Yoongi’s arms are wrapping around Jimin and pulling him to sit in his lap on the bed. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” ____________ He comes around incredibly groggy this time. His head is still hurting, but it’s spinning this time instead of throbbing. He feels too cold in his bed and a sudden wave of panic crashes through him at the thought that Yoongi’s not there. He snaps his eyes open, harsh breath sucking through his lips but everything around him is dark. He’s just about to blow up in another storm of panic when he feels a hand around his squeeze him tight. “I’m right here.” Yoongi explains and Jimin can feel his whole body relax back into the mattress of his bed. And then Jimin is crying. Tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks, voice wobbling on sobs

in the back of his throat. He can barely pick out Yoongi in the darkness, and his tears are blurring his vision further. But he’s sure Yoongi’s expression is nothing good. Yoongi is hushing him carefully. “There’s no need to cry.” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jimin sobs. “Why are you sorry?” Yoongi sounds confused. He’s too good for Jimin, too caring and sweet. Jimin really doesn’t deserve him. “I didn’t mean to.” He supplies. “Please don’t hate me.” “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is harsh and it makes Jimin flinch. “Stop thinking so little of yourself.” Jimin just continues to cry, hands finding themselves tangled in Yoongi’s work shirt. He clearly hasn’t moved since this morning when Jimin had passed out from his panic attack. “I need you to stop crying.” He adds. “You’re sick and all this crying will make you feel worse.” Jimin tries, he really does but he’s too overwhelmed. Everything hurts, he feels uncomfortably hot and yet cold at the same time. His chest burns, his heart feels heavy and now he’s a teary slobbering mess of a human. Yoongi’s fingertips are swiping at the tears staining Jimin’s cheeks and the touch sends a calm shiver through his bones. He’s so tired, he hates being sick. He hates how weak he feels, how useless he is and how much of a burden he is to others. But what he hates right now, is that he forced Yoongi to stay with him even though the man is so busy at work. Eventually the soothing touches help Jimin calm down into just sniffles and hiccups. His eyes are stinging painfully and he wants to rub at them – but he also doesn’t want to let Yoongi go. God he’s so useless. “Feeling calmer?” Yoongi asks and Jimin nods. “Alright, that’s good.” Jimin sniffles and he feels even more like a child, one waiting to be scolded. “Now, I don’t know where you’ve got this notion that I’m angry with you.” Yoongi begins. “But I need you to understand that I’m not now, was, or ever will be mad at you, Sunshine.” Jimin doesn't say anything, little fingers clinging onto Yoongi for dear life. “Did you get yourself worked up over me leaving?” Yoongi asks. It takes a while for Jimin to finally reply, and when he does it just comes out as a shy sniffling nod. “I thought as much.” Yoongi sighs, a hand reaching up to push Jimin’s hair away from his face. “Sunshine, if you had just asked me I would have stayed with you.” “B-but work.” Jimin mutters back in a whispered voice. Yoongi scoffs. “I’m the boss Sunshine. I can get underlings to do my job for me.” Jimin doesn’t reply and Yoongi sighs. “That was meant to be a joke, you’re meant to be laughing.” He explains. “So, you’re basically saying that I’m not only a burden to you, but your employees too?” Jimin

sounds on the verge of panic again. “No. Stop that.” Yoongi’s voice is harsh once more. “Stop what?” “You know what.” Yoongi replies. “I always thought you were a little insecure, but Jimin this is ridiculous.” “I’m sorry.” “Stop saying you’re sorry.” Yoongi sighs. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.” “I swear I wont be like this when this fucking flu is gone.” Jimin promises. “I’m not usually like this, I- “ “I couldn’t care less if you’re only being needy because your sick or not.” Yoongi explains. “I don’t care that I missed work to stay with you and I don’t give two shits about whoever’s been inconvenienced because of it.” “B-but –” “I’m worried that you got yourself so worked up over me leaving and not wanting to be a burden you had a panic attack over it. I’m worried that you think I would honestly be angry with you over the fact you wanted me to stay. “ Yoongi shuffles himself closer to Jimin so that he can trace constellations into the boy’s check. “I’m your boyfriend Jimin. You should be leaning on me for support in your weak times. And I’ll be there for you. It’s not against the law for you to voice your needs.” He scoffs. “Honest to fucking god, I’m so fucking smitten with you I’d throw myself in the Han River if you asked me.” “Please don’t do that.” Jimin chuckles weakly. Yoongi smiles eyes getting lost in Jimin’s. “Your laugh is the best sound in the entire world. And when you smile…” He shuts his eyes as if he’s in pain. “Fuck, it makes me so incredibly fucking weak.” Jimin nocks him playfully. “You’re such a sap.” “Only for you.” Yoongi winks, then sighs. “I hate seeing you being so harsh on yourself. The mere thought that you dislike yourself sickens me. I can’t comprehend how you can’t see it, see how so incredibly amazing you are.” Jimin is flushing scarlet he can just feel it. He’s a tomato faced, snotty nosed swollen eyed mess and yet here Yoongi is telling him how amazing he is. Jimin really doesn’t deserve him. They lie like that a while, just watching each other as Yoongi traces patterns into Jimin’s heated skin. “So,” Yoongi beginnings cautiously. “Panic attacks?” Jimin looks a little guilty. “I was going to tell you…” Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

Jimin smiles. “I know.” He nods. “I wasn’t planning on keeping it a secret. There’s just never a good time to bring stuff like this up.” “Can I ask, what brought them about?” Jimin just shrugs. “Did I ever mention my burning hatred for high school?” “You’ve briefly mentioned it, yeah.” “It wasn’t the best time for me.” Jimin supplies voice wobbling as he does. Its all Yoongi needs to know before he’s wriggling himself ever the more closer to Jimin. “Let’s sleep.” He offers instead. “We just woke up.” Jimin teases but he’s snaking his way into Yoongi’s embrace anyway. “You can never have too much sleep.” ____________ “And why do I need to get you the alumni list from that year specifically, hyung?” Now that’s a voice Jimin hasn’t heard before. Maybe he’s in that weird state of being half awake and half asleep and his dreams are mixing with reality. “Do I need to give you a reason? Just humor me and do it.” But that snappy voice is Yoongi, Jimin is certain. He stretches his hand across the blankets and surly enough his boyfriend isn’t lying next to him. Jimin is all but ready to whine like a needy kitten till his boyfriend comes back, but the conversation continues before he can. “I’d love to humor you hyung, but I know for a fact that’s the year Jimin graduated and the school name you gave me is also his High School.” The new voice explains. The mention of his name has Jimin’s mouth snapping shut like a guppy and eyebrows furrowing. “So, to me, it sounds like your whipped ass has an agenda.” “And it’s none of your fucking business, Namjoon.” Yoongi retorts. “Just do it.” “Oh no, there aint no way I’m just gonna ‘do it’, when I’ve barely had any ample teasing time.” The second voice, Namjoon, sounds like he’s talking through a smirk. Jimin feels like he needs to remember to ask Yoongi why he needs a list of his high school classmates. But honestly, he’s not really sure whether he’s not still dreaming and he’s made up this entire conversation. Yoongi gruffs. “Fuck you.” Namjoon laughs. “So he’s sick, huh?” “Yeah, with the flu.” Yoongi enlightens. “And you’re looking after him?” “Well, obviously.” Namjoon laughs again. “So whipped.”

“Fuck off.” Jimin smiles bashfully, hiding his face in the blankets. He knows how proud Yoongi is, and how tsundere he acts around Jimin and others he cares for. But there’s no hiding the softness Yoongi holds for his loved ones. Jimin’s overly happy that he gets to be apart of the group now. “Hyung, you don’t know the first thing about caring for the sick.” Namjoon elaborates. “You hate being sick so you get every damn jab available just to avoid it.” “So?” Yoongi huffs. “It’s not that hard. He needs plenty of fluids and rest and I got Hoseok to drop some meds round yesterday.” “And where’d you hear that?” Namjoon asks skeptically. “Google.” Namjoon breaks out into uncontrollable laughter and Jimin finds himself stifling his own giggles into the blankets. “It’s not that funny.” Yoongi snaps. “Oh, it really is.” Namjoon counters. “But in other news. I wrapped up the little issue in Dangju. Everything carried out exactly as you ordered. They wont be bothering us anymore.” “Good, those scumbags think too highly of themselves. We give them so much lenience in the way things are run in Dangju. And all they do is bite the hand that feeds them. Disrespectful dogs need to be put in place.” Yoongi supplies, his words harsh and sharp like knives. Yoongi is always incredibly private about his work life. All Jimin knows is that he’s the CEO of some big company that was passed down to him from his father. He’s constantly working, even on weekends and is glued to his phone. Every now and then Jimin overhears Yoongi talking to someone about work. The way his words are always unnecessarily harsh makes him sound more like a gangster rather than a CEO. But Jimin knows for a fact that Yoongi’s far too soft to be in a gang. “So you can head to Daegu with a clear head.” Namjoon responds. Fuck, Chuseok. Jimin scrambles for his phone moving so quickly it sends his head spinning. The sudden head rush causes him to underestimate the stretch to his nightstand. And he lets out a loud groan of pain as his hand collides with the sharp edge of it. “Fuck!” He exclaims a little too loudly. It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to come rushing back into the room, face contorted in worry and the guest is ultimately forgotten in Jimin’s hallway. “What’s wrong?” He asks, eyes scanning over Jimin as he cradles his hand to his chest in pain. “I hit my hand on the edge of my nightstand.” Jimin supplies. “Idiot.” Yoongi mutters affectionately. He makes his way over to the bed, sitting cross-legged next to Jimin. “Let me see.” He demands holding his hand out for Jimin’s.

Jimin complies and Yoongi starts running soothing fingers over the irritated red mark on the back of Jimin’s hand. “Yoongi, what day is it?” Jimin asks, eyes burning into Yoongi’s face. Yoongi is too busy looking at Jimin’s hand to feel the intense look. “Wednesday.” “So, Chuseok’s tomorrow.” Jimin elaborates. Yoongi lets a little smile stretch across his face, amusingly tangling and detangling his fingers with Jimin’s. “I suppose it is, yeah.” “Will you head back to Daegu tonight?” Jimin tries really hard to hide the worry in his voice. “Nahh.” Yoongi supplies simply. “Then, tomorrow –“ Yoongi gives Jimin’s hand a little squeeze. “I’m not going back to Daegu this year.” He explains. “WHAT!” A voice bellows in the hallway. It’s followed by the sound of something smashing to the floor and an onslaught of swearing. Jimin winces at the sound and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I promise I’ll replace that.” He explains through Jimin’s confusion. The door to the bedroom flies open, slamming into the wall and sending several of Jimin’s picture’s clattering to the floor. “You’re not going home for Chuseok?” The man in the door way asks and Jimin finds his eyes impossibly wide as he takes in the sight. The man is tall and lanky, looking almost like a giant in the low doorway of Jimin’s bedroom. He’s wearing a grey suit and a midnight blue shirt, no tie and the top three buttons undone. His shoes are as shinny as black beetles and his hair is bleach blonde – practically white – with a harsh undercut. “You heard me.” Yoongi repeats to the man in the doorway. Jimin vaguely registers this must be the Namjoon guy Yoongi was talking too earlier. “You can’t do that.” Namjoon supplies utterly flabbergasted. Yoongi’s eyes are narrowed and jaw set angrily as he glares at Namjoon. “And why the hell not.” “Because your mother will raise hell.” Namjoon explains. “And I’m the one you’ll force to deal with it while you hide here. And I swore hyung, that I’d never deal with Min Yerin so long as I live…” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.” “Stop lying to yourself.” Namjoon snaps back. “You have to go back for Chuseok.” He gasps, hands running down his face. “Fuck, your Dad will have my head…” “Why are you the one so worried about this?” Yoongi snorts. Jimin squeezes Yoongi’s hand bringing his attention back to him. “You should go back for Chuseok.” Jimin explains. “I’m already feeling a lot better, by tomorrow I should be back to normal and…”

“Stop lying.” Yoongi interrupts, his voice that caring kind of harsh again that makes Jimin feel guilty. “If I wasn’t so incredibly fucking worried right now, I’d be cooing at how disgustingly sweet that what.” Namjoon observes ultimately ruining the mood. Yoongi sighs angrily, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Fine.” He grumbles hitting a number he has on speed dial and holding the phone expectantly to his ear. “Eomma?” Yoongi calls into the phone. It’s responded by a voice nattering animatedly on the other end. “That’s what I’m calling to talk to you about.” He replies, voice serious and smooth. “I wont be coming home for Chuseok.” There’s a brief silence in which Jimin feels like the whole room is holding it’s breath. And then screaming from the other end of the phone abruptly breaks it and Yoongi rolls his eyes. He lets the voice scold and shout for a little while on the other end of the phone and Jimin feels completely horrified. His mother sounds incredibly intimidating and this would all have been avoided if Jimin manned the fuck up and forced Yoongi to go home. But Yoongi looks completely unbothered by the whole situation, his free hand has gone back to playing with Jimin’s fingers. Almost like he’s bored. Whilst Jimin is pretty certain Namjoon is melting from pure horror in the doorway. Ms. Min must be fucking terrifying. “Oh stop being so dramatic.” Yoongi scoffs. “I have more important things to do.” The voice of Ms Min sounds down right insulted and is clearly inquiring as to what could possibly be more important than family. “Jimin.” Yoongi retorts easily and Jimin pretty much chokes on his own saliva. He can feel his face heating up from the embarrassing reaction. But then Namjoon comically trips over his own feet and knocks over the stack of books on Jimin’s desk on his way closer to the bed. So that makes Jimin feel like less of an idiot. There’s another long pause on the other end of the phone. Yoongi’s eyes are watching Jimin carefully. Jimin must look like the perfect picture of shock. He can feel his mouth hanging open, eyebrows shot into his hairline and eyes as wide as the moon. His hand is limp in Yoongi’s grasp, but his boyfriend just squeezes it reassuringly. Suddenly the voice on the other end of the phone is back to nattering happily and lengthily. It sounds like she’s talking without breath, her voice bright and excited and a complete 180 from the intimidating shouting it was moments ago. “Yes, he is.” Yoongi smirks coyly at Jimin. Jimin isn’t sure whether he wants to know what the question was. “It’s only been a month, but yeah, I think so.” Yoongi answers another unknown question, but this one has his face melting into something so tender as he watches Jimin. “He’s sick.” Yoongi continues and his mother is gabbling quickly at full speed once more. “Sure, I’ll tell him.” He rolls his eyes from clearly another scolding from his mother. He pulls his phone away from his lips a little. “She says to get well soon.” He tells Jimin.

Jimin feels his cheeks heat up again. “Tell her thank you.” Yoongi nods. “He says thanks.” He repeats and his mother continues to talk. “No I’m not going to pass him the phone.” More nattering. “Because he’s sick.” “Tell her that I’d like to talk to her next time.” Jimin adds shyly and it momentarily throws Yoongi. But he recovers quick, dragged back to the call he’s on by his mother’s annoying rants. “Jimin says, that when he’s feeling better he’d like to talk to you.” Jimin nods and Yoongi smiles. “She said she’d like that.” He replies and Jimin’s face splits into a smile of his own. “Eomma, I have to go now. But I’ll come down next weekend instead, okay?” Yoongi promises. His mother sounds incredibly soft all of a sudden, voice so quiet Jimin isn’t really sure whether she’s still there. Yoongi’s eyes harden just slightly as he watches Jimin. Jimin inclines his head mouthing a ‘what’ at Yoongi. “No, he doesn’t.” Yoongi finally replies to his mother and Jimin is blinking in confusion. Yoongi shakes his head, clearly telling Jimin not to worry – and Jimin wont push it. “Okay, bye.” He adds before ending the call. “Fuck, who knew it was love that would calm the fury of Min Yerin.” Namjoon gapes now standing by the bed. Yoongi narrows his eyes at the man, his once good mood melting into annoyance again. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have work to do?” Namjoon chuckles, all fear and worry completely evaporated. “Whipped as fuck.” “Don’t make me kill you, Namjoon.” Yoongi warns. Namjoon just laughs, hands held up in defeat. “Alright, I get it.” He surrenders before turning to look at Jimin. “It was nice to finally meet you, Mochi.” Namjoon grins and the dimples that embed his cheeks blow Jimin away. “That’s what Hoseok calls me.” Jimin replies like an idiot. Namjoon is still smiling. “He’s right, you do look like mochi.” “Fuck off.” Yoongi snaps once more. Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles heading back to the door. “Get better soon, Mochi.” He throws over his shoulder before slipping out of the bedroom. “He seams nice.” Jimin comments off-handedly. Yoongi scoffs. “I’m pretty certain he broke one of your lamps.” Jimin looks alarmed but Yoongi just smiles. “But I already told you I’ll replace it.” “You didn’t have to do that.” Jimin is suddenly incredibly shy, and he’s not really sure why. He lost most of his timid ways with Yoongi a while ago. Yoongi shrugs. “Namjoon will pay for it, I’m just being nice.” Jimin shakes his head. “I mean choosing to stay with me rather than go home for Chuseok.”

Yoongi cups Jimin’s face tenderly in his hands and plants a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’d do it again, a thousand times over.” Jimin giggles as Yoongi’s thumbs circle over the apple of his cheeks. “You want me to get sick more?” “Didn't I already tell you that sick Jimin is the best Jimin?” He teases. “You’re so clingy.” He smirks. “Like a koala.” Jimin giggles again, not even caring that it makes his head throb. He reaches up to hold his own hands over Yoongi’s, nuzzling into the warm palms. “So here’s my plan.” Yoongi begins. “I’m going to bring your TV in here so we can spend the next few days lazing in bed. We can watch those shitty dramas you like so much until you feel better, and I’ll get Hoseok to bring round enough food to last us, because I don’t want to poison you with my cooking.” Jimin is beaming from ear to ear. “That sounds like a great plan.” He agrees easily. “I know.” Yoongi puffs up teasingly. “I’ll take good care of you.” And Jimin knows he will.

Chapter End Notes

Look, it's a flashback chapter~ (∩˃o˂∩)♡ It's not got much of gangster Yoongi in it, because Jimin doesn't know yet. So his underground activity is only secretly brushed upon here and there and Jimin is oblivious haha ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I've sorted of, kind of, worked out a plot for this thing? There's going to be some flashback chapters mixed in with present day chapters so let's see how this goes (´,,•ω•,,) Thank you for all your kind comments and kudos and what not~ It's nice to hear from people who are reading this ( •̀ • ́)‫✧ﻭ‬ Sorry if I'm awkward, I'm actually really outgoing in person, but for some reason I'm incredibly fucking shy on the internet. (#^.^#) But I don't have many Kpop fans, and I've bored my irl friends with all my Kpop gushing, so please keep talking to me (〃ﾉωﾉ) (P.S. Here's the standard sorry for the grammar and spelling and shit~~)

Everything will be Okay Chapter Summary

The Park Jisu whirlwind finds it's way to Seoul and as always, everyone's in for a wild ride.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Sunday is Jimin’s favorite day of the week. Back in Busan, Sunday’s meant a lazy day in which he only got out of bed to attend church. After which promptly saw him snuggled back up in his bed and sleeping his Sunday away. He loves Sundays even more now that he has Yoongi. For all his husband’s scary and abrasive mannerisms, Yoongi is nothing but soft melted goo on the inside. He’s the hardest working person Jimin has ever met, but it’s no secret that his husband is incredibly lazy when he doesn’t have to be serious. So he’s more than willing to indulge in Jimin’s lazy Sunday’s. But sometimes, Yoongi finds it hard to disconnect from work and relax with Jimin. He doesn’t have a typical 9-5 Monday to Friday kind of job, after all. So he’s constantly working, seeing as crime never rests for no one. Not even for a cute husband wanting cuddles all Sunday long. No matter how much Jimin pouts and Yoongi struggles with his self-control over said pouts, if work calls, work calls. Yoongi’s phone is always on loud, always fully charged and always close by. Initially it annoyed the ever-loving fuck out of Jimin. But he’s come to just accept it as a part of their functioning dysfunctional relationship. It’s always Yoongi-Jimin-and the IPhone. But Jimin has always tried his best to distract Yoongi when he does get some down time. Not that Jimin’s very motivated on Sunday’s to do anything productive. But he can at least pull Yoongi from his office and onto the couch. He can cling to Yoongi like a koala and cover them in blankets. He can put on the TV just for background noise and kiss away all the stress in Yoongi’s muscles. It never takes long for Yoongi to turn off from work and completely melt under Jimin’s ministrations. Yes, Sunday is Jimin’s favorite day of the week and thusly, it’s become Yoongi’s favorite day too. Since they’ve gotten married, Yoongi’s made sure that business of which he’s needed for isn’t conducted on a Sunday. He hands off most of the stuff he has to do to Namjoon, who is more than capable in handling it. And his phone is just a little bit further out of reach. Jimin knows it’s because a relaxed Yoongi is a lazy Yoongi. So if the phone goes off from the other side of the room, he’s less likely to haul his ass over there to answer it. But sometimes, Yoongi’s phone will continue to ring in that annoyingly shrill high tone and ruin the relaxed atmosphere that the two have created.

Today is, sadly, one of those days. Jimin digs his socked toes into Yoongi’s thigh. He’s wrapped around Yoongi like he’s a teddy bear, face nuzzled into his husband’s neck. “I think you need to answer that.” He says. Yoongi’s eyes are trained on the TV, he’s taken a strange fancy to some documentary about miniature poodles and Jimin is internally cooing at his soft husband. “It’s probably not serious.” He tries to justify. Jimin sighs dejectedly. “I think its 5 rings past not serious now, Yoonie.” Yoongi groans, wriggling ever so slightly on the couch. “You get it.” Jimin giggles. “And who’s going to listen to my orders?” Yoongi turns to look at Jimin then, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re very commanding when you want to be.” His slightly cold hands start to trace feather lightly up Jimin’s spine under his sweater and he shivers at the touch. The phone stops ringing, and the two of them wait with baited breath, ears zoned in and praying the silence continues. But of course, fate has other plans, and the phone goes off again ringing all the more urgently and angrily now. Yoongi groans and pats Jimin’s butt a few times. “Alright Sunshine, up.” Jimin wines, he can feel his lips pulling into a pout as Yoongi detangles himself to sit upright. He swings his legs over the couch and Jimin moves to sit up with him. “No.” He wines. “You’re warm.” Yoongi chuckles as he stretches out all the kinks in his stiff body. Just as he slumps from the stretching, ready to march his way over to the intrusive phone, Jimin snakes his arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. Yoongi doesn’t even say anything, he’s more than used to Jimin’s needy ways and easily stands to his feet with Jimin wrapped around his back. Jimin giggles, burying his head happily into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “Why are you so heavy?” Yoongi complains, but Jimin knows there’s no seriousness to it. “Seriously Jimin, you’re so damn needy.” Jimin is smirking into Yoongi’s neck. “Only for you.” “You damn right.” Yoongi grumbles, snatching his phone of the dinning room table. It’s always such a quick snap of a change from ‘Yoongi; Jimin’s husband’ to ‘Yoongi; the mafia boss’. His muscles tighten as if they’re suddenly charged with the weight of the world. His face turns so sharp his look could cut glass and his voice drops almost a whole octave. “What?” He snaps into the phone and the tone is so cold it sends an involuntary shiver down Jimin’s spine. Jimin can only hear the high frantic murmurs of Yoongi’s subordinate on the other end of the phone. He can’t pick out any specific words and seeing as they sound so panicked, he’s a little thankful he can’t. They sound like a child who did something stupid even though their parents warned them not

to, and ultimately broke something important. “And why are you calling me about this?” Yoongi barks and Jimin can feel his shoulders tensing up impossibly more. His body moves as if on instinct and Jimin’s lips work their way across the small expanse of skin around the collar of Yoongi’s T. He can feel Yoongi relaxing just a little as Jimin tries his best to kiss away his stress. “And where is Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes out harsh and loud and Jimin can feel it under his palms that rest on Yoongi’s chest. Jimin starts trailing open-mouthed kisses across Yoongi’s neck. Sucking against his skin just light enough to bring Goosebumps to the surface. But not hard enough to leave any marks. “So you’re telling me. Namjoon entrusted you with this task and you fucked up. And now you’re too chicken shit scared to call him, so you called me instead?” It’s the longest Jimin has heard Yoongi berate his subordinates over the phone. Yoongi is the master of inflicting fear with just a few words. So it’s safe to say Yoongi is well and truly pissed. “And what the fuck kinda logic is that? You know who you’re talking to, right kid?” He yells and Jimin starts running his hands over the expanse of Yoongi’s chest in as soothing a motion he can. “Shut the hell up before I get really fucking mad.” Yoongi’s voice is even and crisp and even more terrifying a sound than his shouts. Jimin begins nibbling on his ear; one hand wrapped securely around his chest the other gently stroking through his hair. “I’ll be there in 10 minuets. You better pray to every fucking God you know that he’s still breathing when I get there.” Yoongi doesn’t wait for the subordinate to reply before he drops the call. His shoulders slump when he does an exasperated breath escaping his lips, but Jimin doesn’t stop his worship over his husbands skin. “Sunshine, baby, you’re such a tease.” Yoongi groans. And it’s as if the whole threatening conversation never even happened. The snap back from Mafia boss Yoongi to husband Yoongi just as quick, much to Jimin’s happiness. Yoongi’s hands find their way into Jimin’s hair whilst Jimin begins sucking on the juncture between Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. The two of them are usually so careful about leaving marks, but Jimin supposes one mark won’t be such a big deal. He needs the world to know that Yoongi is his and not even his work can really take him away. Yoongi groans, pulling just slightly on Jimin’s hair. It’s not often that Jimin is the one doing the marking, and he wonders why he doesn’t do it more. Yoongi is particularly sensitive to Jimin’s lips on his neck. He places a small kiss to the blossoming hickey before smiling against the pale milky skin. “Only for you.” He repeats and Jimin can feel Yoongi’s appreciative growl. “You damn right.” ___________ Jimin finds himself snuggled back on the couch pretty soon after Yoongi gets off the phone. He smirks fondly at how whipped his husband is, who had carried Jimin back to the couch with empty complaints on his lips. “You have legs you can walk.”

“If God rested on Sunday, then so do I Yoonie.” True to Yoongi’s word he’s out the door as quickly as possible. Stealing only a few kisses too little to satisfy Jimin before he went. The apartment is too quiet when Jimin’s here by himself. He’s often here by himself really, so he should be used to it. And it’s not like Yoongi and him together are the loudest pairing on the planet. But the silence rings a strong reminder that Yoongi isn’t at home and it’s not a pleasant thought. He continues watching the weird dog documentary. They’re comparing show dogs to pet dogs now. Jimin thinks the narrator sounds British as she garbles away in a foreign tongue. It’s all about stuff Jimin really couldn’t care less about, anyway. So he’s barely following the subtitles; it’s just something to keep his mind occupied and the cute dogs parading around on the screen do that enough. He’ll probably have a nap soon anyway. But low and behold, his own phone starts blaring obnoxiously loud from the coffee table and Jimin rolls his eyes as he reaches for it. He’s assuming it’s probably Taehyung; finding a minuet’s break from his busy new job to spare his best friend some time. But as he snatches a glance at the caller ID, he finds himself grinning impossibly wide. “Eomma!” Jimin calls down the phone. He hasn’t heard from his mother in about a month and there’s no hiding the happiness that seeps into his voice “Jiminie, my precious, its been too long!” His mother cries dramatically down the phone. Jimin rolls his eyes. “It’s only been a month.” “I know! I’m a terrible mother aren’t I? Did you manage to live whilst I was away?” Jimin’s not sure whether he’s glad his mother is still as dramatic as ever or not. “I struggled, but I managed.” Jimin chuckles. “What’s up?” He wriggles into a more comfortable position on the couch. It’s a well-known fact that his chats with his mother can last hours. One time they chatted for nearly 5 hours and it left Jimin with a pouty sulking husband on his hands feeling exceptionally neglected. “There’s no need to get too comfy my little chick.” She comments and Jimin can hear the full-blown smile in her voice. “We can have a proper catch up on Tuesday.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “Why? What’s happening on Tuesday?” His mother chuckles, “Well that’s when I arrive.” Jimin can feel his hands sweating just a little. “Arrive? Arrive where, Eomma?” And Jimin is praying with all his might that he’s not reading into his mother’s words correctly. He racks through the last few conversations he’s had with his mother, but he’s certain she hasn’t mentioned anything to him about visiting. But then again, his mother is always an ‘in the moment’ type of woman. Jimin knows his mother like the back of his hand. So when he hears her response of; “In Seoul.” He wonders why he’s so surprised. “You’re coming to Seoul?” Jimin blurts, jumping to his feet in a little wave of panic. It’s not like he doesn’t want his mother to come visit him, in fact nothing would make him happier. But he can't just think for himself anymore, he’s got a grumpy easily tested husband to think about and it’s no secret

the two bicker more than cats and dogs. “I am!” She exclaims so happily. “Isn’t that exciting! It’s been years since I was in Seoul.” “Eomma, you were here during the summer.” Jimin reminds, face in his palm as his brain is processing things at a mile a minuet. Tuesday is 2 days away, Yoongi will need at least a week of gearing himself up for the Jisu whirlwind so safe to say Yoongi is going to be more than a little irked at the news. “Like I said, it’s been years.” She jokes and Jimin can’t help but smile through his internal dilemma. “I should get in at 2, but don’t expect me till a little later. Seoul traffic is always bad.” Well shit. His mother is going to attempt to get to their apartment via taxi. There’s no way in hell Jimin can let that happen. “We’ll come collect you from the station.” He blurts out quick making sure it doesn’t sound like an offer. His mother scoffs. “No, you’re rich fancy husband will have someone come and collect me. It’d be the same if I take a taxi.” Jimin rolls his eyes. The battles between his mother and his husband are already staring and she’s not even here yet. Yoongi’s not even in the same room and Jimin can already feel the tension between them. “No, I want to come get you myself.” Jimin counters quickly. He knows he’s loosing this battle already. But he’ll do anything so that his mother isn’t set loose alone in Seoul. Park Jisu is a loveable, forgetful, harebrained mess of an adult after all. “What a precious son you are.” She coos and Jimin can tell it’s sarcastically. “But I can see right through you Park Jimin, even when you’re on the phone.” She’s still refusing to call Jimin a Min, and Jimin finds it endearing whilst Yoongi finds it irritating. She lets a long unnecessarily dramatic sigh pass through the phone before continuing. “You just don’t want me getting a taxi cos you think I’ll get lost or something.” Jimin scoffs. His mother getting lost is the best-case scenario. “But I’m a grown ass woman who has lived without your help for a good few years now.” She explains. “I started growing my own vegetables!” She announces like it’s the best evidence to prove her point. Jimin rolls his eyes; he’s begun pacing a little in front of the couch. “And how many of them have survived? Vegetables are different to plants, Eomma. Just because you’re good at growing flowers doesn’t mean you’ll be good at growing food.” “Shut up, it’s the effort that counts.” Jisu wines like a child. “It really isn’t, Eomma.” Jimin’s voice is laced with affection despite his growing anxiety. “If you get here later that 5pm I’m sending the hounds of hell after you.” “I don’t doubt it, Hades is pretty powerful isn’t he?” She replies with a mocking chuckle. “How’s he doing anyway?” Jimin smiles. “Good, he’s working right now.” “On a Sunday? Doesn’t he know that’s the day of rest, you should make sure he…” She stops suddenly on an intake of breath. “Park Jimin! You’re faith in me is ridiculous! Of course I’m going

to make it to your apartment before 5pm, you don’t live that far from the station!” His mother is always a little slow. “I’ll see you Tuesday Eomma.” “I can’t wait!” ___________ “And why did I have to bring round hyung’s favorite bulgogi within half an hour?” Hoseok has his eyebrows raised, bag of take-away bulgogi held up in front of him. “And hello to you to.” Jimin grumbles. He feels like there are ominous storm clouds above him just waiting for the worst time to burst on him. He snatches the bag from Hoseok’s hands, which elicits mock tittering from the man. “Patience, Mochi. I came all the way here from Mapo, the least you can do is offer me some tea.” Jimin shakes his head. “Can’t, not today. There’s not much time.” He explains briefly. Hoseok cocks his head to one side. “Until what?” “Yoongi comes back.” He explains and he can feel his face pulling in worry. Hoseok laughs. “Did you break his noise cancelling headphones again?” He asks leaning against the doorframe. “Because hyung is loaded as fuck, Mochi. He can just buy another pair again, he’s only grumbling because he’s a lazy asshole.” Jimin shakes his head. “No, I didn’t break his headphones.” Hoseok crosses his arms about his chest. His smile is equal parts reassuring and equal parts devilish. “Okay, then what’s up?” Jimin gulps, cradling the warm bag of bulgogi to his chest. “We have a code Demeter.” He explains. Hoseok’s face drops it’s happy smile. “Fuck.” He breathes. “You’re, well, fucked.” Jimin wines like a child. “Shit, hyung, have some more faith please.” He complains. “Things will be alright, right? Right?” He sounds so fucking desperate. And Hoseok has the audacity to laugh at him. He ruffles Jimin’s hair, “Tell hyung that I’m taking a holiday for the foreseeable future.” “W-what…” Jimin stammers battering Hoseok’s hand out of his hair. “But you love my mother!” Jimin wines. Hoseok smirks. “Don't get me wrong, Jisu is great.” He rationalizes. “But Park Jisu and Min Yoongi together is just not something I would choose to be around.” He teases sauntering back towards the elevator. “Good luck!” “Fuck you!” Jimin calls after him. “Fuck you, hyung.” Hoseok corrects and Jimin is half tempted to throw the bag of bulgogi at his hyung’s head.

___________ Why is it that eyeliner always looks so fucking amazing on the first eye you attempt? But then the other eye just ends up looking like a toddler with crayons has attacked you? And how hard is it to not stick yourself in the eye? Like seriously, it’s not that hard and Jimin’s done it three times now. It’s causing his eyes to water and smudge his foundation and it’s doing nothing to help Jimin’s anxiousness. “Fuck!” He exclaims after the fourth jab in the eye. He throws his eyeliner at his make-up bag, which annoyingly knocks the whole thing off the bathroom sink. He groans, ultimately deciding that he’ll clean it up later and then turns to get one last look at himself in the mirror. Despite the amount of hassle he’s gone through to get dressed up like this, it’s clearly worth it because Jimin looks amazing. He showered – which is a feat in and of itself for a Sunday – and pulled out the expensive shampoo and body soap that makes him smell like a walking fruit basket. He’d yanked out one of Yoongi’s white shirts – one that’s not too important and can deal with a little wear and tear. Yoongi’s shirts are always too big for Jimin, they’re a little big on Yoongi too but that’s because he likes to wear his clothes loose. So the sleeves fall long and dwarf Jimin’s already small hands, the tips of his fingers just poking out of the white fabric. But it’s nothing new to him; he likes sweater paws as much as his husband likes them on him. “Tight fitting things are for you, sunshine.” He’s also left 4 buttons undone at the top leaving just the right amount of skin on show. The chocker Yoongi gave him as a wedding present is tied securely around his neck. It’s a black ribbon affair with a small silver disk that rests just at the bottom of his neck. Yoongi had MJM engraved on it in pretty font – Jimin’s new initials and it’s probably one of Jimin’s most prized possessions. The hem of the shirt falls mid thigh and Jimin has slipped his legs into the pair of black stockings that Yoongi loves the most. They’re fish net stockings, with frilly baby blue lace along the top and it’s the second pair Jimin’s bought. The first pair, of which were used for their first valentines as a couple, were ripped to shreds by an overly egar Yoongi. But he had love the stocking so much; he wasted no time in ordering another pair online the next morning. There’s a matching pair of baby blue and black panties too – of which Jimin is also wearing but the shirt covers it teasingly. His make up is a simple mix of smudged kohl around his eyes and plump peachy lips with just the right amount of gloss that makes them look amazingly tasty. His hair is fluffy and curled slightly in Yoongi’s favorite fashion – one easy to get messed up. Yoongi is going to loose his shit. His takes a deep breath, closing his eyes at the reflection in the mirror. There’s a lot more he’d like to do in order to make him look better, but he supposes this will have to do for now. He’s worked well with the limited time that he’s had, and he knows it’ll do the trick. Besides, Yoongi has stated numerous times that he loves Jimin in sweats just as much as he loves Jimin in lingerie. Mochi 7:30pm How long till you’re home? Yoongi 7:35pm Depending on how many people I have to kill.

Not much longer. Hopefully. Jimin shivers. He wishes that were just a figure of speech. Mochi 7:36pm Let me know when you’re on your way. I have your favorite ready and waiting for you. Yoongi 7:40pm You’re an angel. He moves onto the next part of the plan. Dragging himself back through the apartment in search of candles. Jimin loves candles; he tends to buy a new one every time they go shopping. Yoongi calls him a candle hoarder and Jimin’s totally fine with that. There are weirder things he could be collecting. He’s already set the table. Only one place setting because Yoongi loves nothing more then to have Jimin sat in his lap. Especially when he’s dressed up all prettily for him. The bulgogi is sitting in the oven ready to be reheated for whenever Yoongi finally makes his way back and he’s got Yoongi’s favorite drink on chill on the counter. It takes Jimin less time than he thought it would to set up the candles around the main room. The kitchen, living room and dining room are vast and personally designed to be an open plan. Because, according to Hoseok, Yoongi has trust issues with corners. “But to be fair, I would too if you’re worried about people shooting you in the back.” He turns off all the lights when his fire hazard of a masterpiece is finished. It sets a welcomingly warm glow about their apartment. The flames flicker across the reflection of the large floor to ceiling windows. It’s pitch-black outside now and from the reflection it looks like fire is dancing around their apartment. As a finishing touch, he switches on some jazz, not really sure what song it even is, but it’s from the playlist Yoongi uses to de-stress so it’s more than appropriate for this evenings festivities. He plonks himself on the dinning table, in front of Yoongi’s chair, spreads his legs just a little and props his feet gently on both of the arm rests. The shirt rides up with the movement of his legs, and his panties are on full display. So Jimin uses his shirt cladded hands to hold it down against the table. He knows it makes him look smaller, and he can just picture the way Yoongi’s pupils will dilate when he gets home. There’s nothing Yoongi loves more than Jimin acting cute and small just for him. But for now, he has to wait. And pray that his husband is just as whipped for Jimin as he thinks. ____________ Jimin heard Yoongi come through the door a good five minuets ago, muttering cusses under his breath. But the silence that’s now echoing from the hallway is a little worrying. “Sunshine?” Yoongi’s voice finally calls and Jimin heaves a huge sigh of relief. But he doesn’t say anything; Yoongi doesn’t need to hear his voice to know where he is. The trail of candlelight and music will lead him to the gingerbread house after all. As if reading Jimin’s mind, Jimin can hear the

tell tale sounds of shuffled socked feet against white marble floors as Yoongi makes his way too him. Yoongi swings the door from the hallway open wide and Jimin can hear his breath catch in his throat at the sight before him. Yoongi is frozen where he stands, nothing moving save for his dark hooded eyes that are slowly drinking Jimin in. It makes Jimin shudder in anticipation and he fucking loves it. Loves the way that he still holds such control over Yoongi’s emotions. Basking in the fact that Jimin is the one who’s caused Yoongi to look this aroused. Yoongi’s hands are the first to move, snaking their way up to his tie and pulling it loose around his neck. “What’s all this, sunshine?” He asks in the most nonchalant voice he can muster. But Jimin can tell his self-control is waning by the second. Jimin smirks, cocking an eyebrow innocently. “I told you I’d have your favorite ready and waiting.” He pushes the chair at an angle that’s easier for Yoongi to slip into. His legs spread wider, teasing a glimpse at the black and blue panties that have been hidden under the white shirt. Jimin can hear Yoongi’s resolve shatter. He lets his leg drop so Yoongi can sit down. Yoongi’s eyes are focused on the golden expanse of skin under the dark black net stockings, tongue darting out to wet hungrily at his lips. Jimin hooks his foot around the armrest of the chair and yanks it as close to the table as possible. It draws Yoongi’s attention back to Jimin’s face, and Jimin is simply keening at the look of pure desire swimming in his husband’s inky black irises. Yoongi’s hands are on him instantly, his touch is feather light as he runs his fingers from Jimin’s calf to his thighs. Jimin can tell by the hungry and wrecked look on his husband’s face that he’s not here to play games. The need to touch, to feel, clearly overwhelming his usually stellar endurance and it just makes Jimin feel all the more proud. But pretty soon Yoongi’s appreciative touches turn slightly harsher, more desperate and aggressive. His hands squeeze into the flesh of Jimin’s thigh, thumb running along the hem of the stockings. He’s pushing his fingers tips into Jimin’s golden skin edging them closer and closer up his thigh and with every touch Jimin is shivering in anticipation. Yoongi’s always loved his thighs and Jimin has always loved the way Yoongi worships them. Yoongi hums approvingly. “Is that Bulgogi I smell?” Jimin can feel his breath come out in a shudder. He’s always been sensitive, and the fact he’s been sitting around in anticipation for this makes him far worse. The never ceasing touches that are gliding up his thigh are aggressive but painfully teasing. Yoongi’s fingertips are so close to his dick and yet are purposefully avoiding the area, winding Jimin up like a coil that’s in desperate need of snapping. Jimin manages to nod though his head is fogging up from neediness. His fingers fidget with the hem of the shirt and he’s gasping whenever Yoongi’s fingers massage into a particularly sensitive spot. “And I got the good whiskey on chill by the sink.” Jimin adds, breathy and needy. Yoongi’s hands are annoyingly palming away from Jimin’s crotch and Jimin swallows down the needy wine in the back of his throat. But then Yoongi’s thumbs are back to teasing stroking along the tops of the stockings and Jimin shucks in a shuddering breath. Yoongi snaps them eliciting a little yelp from Jimin and Jimin looses all patience with himself, wound up too tight to handle. So, with a small smile playing at his plump shimmering lips, he pulls the hem of the shirt up so Yoongi can get a better look at his growing erection beneath the lace panties.

That seams to break the last restraint Yoongi has in him and suddenly it’s like a spell has been broken around them. Because the next thing he knows, Jimin is being pushed back on the table. Hands are all over him and Yoongi’s mouth is hot on his own in a searing, claiming kiss. The cutlery and plates go shattering to the floor, but neither of them spares a moment to mourn them, let alone care, as the heat intensifies between them. Yoongi’s lips are slightly chapped from the outside cold but his hands are warming up deliciously from the heat radiating of Jimin’s skin. Jimin tangles his hands in his husband’s hair, pulling tightly on locks just to ground himself. One of Yoongi’s hands is cupping his jaw, tilting him at just the right angle and the other is palm down on the table by Jimin’s head. Jimin’s head is blank, all he can feel in Yoongi burning into his skin, lips soft and aggressive against his own. He feels completely trapped, encaged by nothing but Yoongi. Senses thrown into overdrive as he can feel his lover in so many ways that it’s suffocating. But it’s the best feeling in the world. Yoongi’s kisses are always passionate. Sometimes they’re slow and meticulous, leisurely enjoying the moment for what it’s worth. He’ll take his time to explore Jimin’s mouth, to relish in the little sounds Jimin makes and tease Jimin out of his mind. But on other days, his passion is rushed and aggressive. Claiming Jimin’s lips in kisses that are more teeth and tongue. He’ll bite on Jimin’s lips, he’ll pull a little harder in Jimin’s hair and he’ll pin Jimin’s hands down to take full control. But through all of his passion, his aggression his tenderness, Jimin can always taste the desperation in Yoongi’s kisses. With each kiss Yoongi clings ever the more tighter to him, feeding Jimin more emotions that are overwhelming in him, almost as if fearful Jimin could slip away at any moment. Jimin understands the desperation now more so than he did at the start or their relationship. Yoongi lives in a world full of shadows and unpredicted dirty hands. He lives in the moment, not wanting to give anything up to chance. He wants Jimin to know just how much he loves him, because he’s not sure whether he’ll always get to tell him that. So Yoongi cherishes each kiss as if it could be their last, and Jimin always hungrily accepts everything his love gives him. All too soon they break away, breaths hanging heavily between them and Jimin wines impatiently. His hips wiggle on the table, and Yoongi’s large hands slip down to pin him in place. Yoongi is quick to placate Jimin’s needy wines. His mouth finding Jimin’s ear to whisper; “And why have you gotten all dressed up, love?” Jimin is preening at the pet name, shivering at the feeling of Yoongi’s husky voice so close to him. Their moment of bubbling heat simmering back to teasing touches and the change of pace has Jimin’s head spinning. “B-because, one good turn deserves another.” He replies, squeaking at the end as Yoongi places his lips to the sensitive spot behind his ear and sucks harshly. He can feel Yoongi’s smirk against his skin. “Is there something you want, sunshine?” His teeth begin nipping at Jimin’s skin and he can only imagine the way his skin is purpling under Yoongi’s mouth. “Tell me what you want.” His voice is rung with authority, husky and deep. But Jimin can only moan, thoughts clouded from the burning touch of Yoongi’s lips against his neck. Jimin brings his legs up to wrap around Yoongi to pull him in closer. His blunt nails scratch against the nape of Yoongi’s neck as his husband trails open mouthed kisses down his neck. Jimin feels deliciously hot and yet Yoongi’s lips rack needy shivers down his spin. He can feel a heat pooling in his gut, setting his nerves alight and winding him up impossibly tight. Yoongi sinks his teeth into Jimin’s clavicle and Jimin yelps. Yoongi’s tongue soothes over the bite, lips pressing into the blossoming red in satisfaction. Jimin doesn’t even care if the hickey is in an obvious place.

“I’ll give you the world Jimin, if that’s what you want.” Yoongi’s tongue has always been just as deft with words as it is with technique. And it renders Jimin into a quivering mess under him. “I’d give you my life.” He continues, presses each word into Jimin’s skin like a promise. He’s trailing his lips lower and lower down his chest, long fingers deftly unbuttoning the shirt as he goes. “Tell me what you want.” “A-a visitor.” Jimin manages to hiss through his teeth. He’s proud that his aroused mental state hasn’t completely clouded the whole purpose of this little meal he’s prepared for Yoongi. But just as he allows himself a moment to pat himself on the back, he’s brought crashing back down to the reality around him by Yoongi’s tongue flicking across one of his nipples. The sudden hot wet sensation has Jimin arching off the table, pushing himself closer into the touch. A loud moan bounces off the walls and back at him and he’s never been more grateful they don’t have neighbors. Because Jimin is loud and Yoongi loves nothing more than hearing him completely come apart by his hands. “You want a visitor?” Yoongi asks before his fingers find Jimin’s other nipple and the dual sensation has Jimin gasping, hands tangling into Yoongi’s hair to ground him. “Nng-no.” Jimin is so breathless and so lightheaded in the most perfect of ways. “A vi-visitor is ccoming.” “Who?” Yoongi asks, giving Jimin’s nipple one last pinch before his hand drops lower to the waistband of the panties. Jimin gasps at the feel of Yoongi’s fingers teasing along the waistband. It’s so so close to where Jimin needs it to be, but Yoongi is purposefully avoiding it a devilish smirk curving at his lips. Jimin’s so ridiculously hard now, and he’s pretty certain Yoongi is too if his raged breathing is anything to go by. But Yoongi has always had incredible patience when faced with the tantalizing prospect of teasing Jimin into a babbling mess. “M-m-“ Jimin garbles. He can hear Yoongi snicker, fingers dancing under the waistband of the panties, only to slip back out again just when Jimin thinks his husband will show mercy on him. “Yes, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks tauntingly. He’s watching Jimin carefully, enjoying nothing more than the writhing sight beneath him caused by his own hands. But it’s all too much for Jimin, head lolling back in desperation and eyes snapping close to try and keep himself grounded. What was it that he needed to tell Yoongi again? He’s really fucking struggling to remember right now, but he knows it’s really important. So important that he has to soften Yoongi up before the blow. Which is why they’re currently in this mess, about the fuck on their dining room table on a Sunday when Jimin is usual curled up lazily on the couch. The burning touch of Yoongi’s hands is suddenly gone, slipping away from his skin and Jimin lets out a loud high pitched moan. His eyes snap open, hands scrambling for Yoongi desperate to have the man touching him again. Yoongi titers. “Uh uh, use your words, Sunshine.” He orders and the authority in his voice has Jimin trembling. But the lack of heat, the lack of touch also has Jimin sobering just enough for his mind to clear up. Oh shit yeah, his mother’s coming to town. “E-Eomma.” Jimin finally breathes. His head cheering at the prospect that Yoongi will finally, finally reward him for being good, and touch him where he so desperately needs to be touched. But Yoongi’s face is frozen in what looks like horror rather than arousal, hands clenching at his side

as he stares intently down at Jimin. Jimin is panicking, half from the fact his husband is unnaturally still and quiet and half from the fact that he’s just gone and fucking killed the mood. He really wishes he hadn’t said anything. They could have happily gone the whole nine yards and Jimin could have told him afterwards when they had both gotten lucky. Yoongi is usual so happy basking in the glow of his orgasm that he’d agree to anything. Why the fuck Jimin thought it was a good idea to spring the news on Yoongi before they fuck is beyond him, but he’s mentally kicking himself. Because all this foreplay has done is wind Yoongi up more and done absolutely nothing in softening his mood. Jimin is clearly a fucking novice when it comes to the art of seduction and is far more intent at blue balling himself. Yoongi pulls away like he’s just been burnt, the backs of his legs knocking into the chair behind him. He looks very much like a scorned cat hissing away misfortune and in any other situation Jimin would be laughing. But he currently swallowing down his giggles because if he laughs now, then it’ll just hurt Yoongi’s pride more and it’ll get them nowhere. He wants Yoongi to be on board with the fact his mother is coming; no one wants a grouchy Yoongi sulking about the place. “When.” Yoongi demands, his voice is dark and even and he’s squaring Jimin with a worrying look. Jimin’s legs flop to the table now that he knows he’s killed Yoongi’s boner. He huffs as he pulls himself upright to rest on his elbows and he can feel a nasty chill running over his neglected thighs that makes him cringe. “Now, honey, don’t be like that.” Jimin soothes. He’s throwing out the big guns by using pet names, because if Jimin calling Yoongi Yoonie makes him swoon, then pet names are his husband’s kryptonite. However, when it comes to the topic of his mother, Yoongi is never easily swayed into anything. Yoongi’s eyes are comically wide. “Please don’t tell me it’s soon.” “Tuesday…” Jimin begins and Yoongi groans. He dejectedly flops into the chair, head falling into his palms. “But, hey, it’s only for a short while.” Yoongi looks up at him with hope in his eyes. “What day does she leave?” Jimin looks sheepish again. “Sh-she didn’t say.” And that has Yoongi groaning in frustrated annoyance once more as he flops back in the chair to glare at the celling. “She’ll be here till next Christmas.” He mutters snarkily. Jimin narrows his eyes. “That’s a bit extreme.” Yoongi scoffs. “She stayed for 1 month and 10 days the last time she was here.” “That’s oddly specific.” “But it felt longer, trust me.” Jimin folds his legs under himself. “It won’t be that bad. I’ll take time off from work and keep her busy sight seeing or something. You won’t even notice she’s here.” “Oh no, because Park Jisu has a habit of staying under the radar.” Yoongi’s voice seeps with sarcasm. “She’s the biggest calamity that South Korea’s ever seen.” Jimin is trying really hard not to laugh. Yoongi is acting like a spoilt child and it’s taking all of Jimin self control not to coo at his pouty husband. “Honey, you’re being dramatic.” He titters, but he’s

really not being that dramatic. In fact, Jimin thinks that Yoongi’s being pretty nice in describing the whirlwind that is his mother. One time, she climbed a tree just to prove to Jimin that she could and evidently got stuck because she had no idea how to climb down. Jimin had to go into town and find someone with a ladder to come help them. “I’m going to have to double security on you both.” Yoongi is lost in his own thoughts, already calculating the damage of this visit. Jimin folds his arms. “Hobi will be fine.” “Probably need at least half a dozen men to keep up with her.” “Hobi will be fine.” Jimin repeats. Yoongi snaps his head down to lock Jimin in a cold glare, eyes narrowed. “Is this why Hoseok was asking for time off next week?” Jimin shrugs making a mental note to kill his hyung. “How should I know?” “And why my favorite meal is in the oven, and my favorite drink ready on ice. And you’re dressed up so prettily for me?” He snaps Jimin’s stockings and Jimin yelps. Jimin lets out a sigh. “Alright, alright yes. I was planning on letting you do whatever the hell you wanted with me tonight, so that you’d be more open to the idea of my mother coming.” “You’re a fucking minx, Sunshine.” Yoongi smirks, snapping the stockings once more for good measure. “But you know you didn’t have to do all this. She’s your mother; she’s allowed to come visit. There’s no way I’d be that much of a dick to forbid her from coming.” “But you’re always so grumpy whenever she’s around.” Jimin mumbles. Yoongi clicks his tongue. “I’m not grumpy. She’s just annoying, that’s all.” Jimin slides of the table and right into his husband’s lap, thighs straddling him snuggly. “I don’t know why you two don’t get along, she’s really amazing behind her space headed ways.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “She calls me Hades.” Jimin smiles gently. “Because you took her Persephone away from her.” “She still calls you Park.” “I’m all she has, Yoonie. It’s always just been the two of us against the world.” Jimin explains, hands unbuttoning more of Yoongi’s shirt so that Jimin can rub his hands soothingly of Yoongi’s shoulders. “I’m her whole world, and she was mine. She’s just finding it hard sharing our world with you. Especially when we live so far away.” He shrugs. “I think she feels left out.” Yoongi cocks an annoyed eyebrow. “Your mother doesn’t seriously think that she can be apart of our relationship, does she?” Even though the statement is ludicrous, the both of them know that nothing is impossible when it comes to Park Jisu. Jimin shakes his head. “She’s just bad at sharing.” Yoongi scoffs. “You’re my husband.” “She’s my mother.” Jimin counters. “And my best friend.” He pouts.

“I thought Taehyung was your best friend.” Yoongi gruffs. “Please, don’t be like this.” Yoongi sighs and Jimin knows he’s won the first argument of the visit. “There’s so much to do before she gets here.” He grumbles, running a hand down his face. Jimin plants a small kiss to his lips. “But we can worry about that tomorrow.” He explains. “Sunday is resting day.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Jimin knows he’ll find his husband cooped up in his office within the next few hours anyway. “Want me to bring you some bulgogi?” Jimin asks. “No, it’s fine. I’m not very hungry.” Yoongi laments. Jimin is rubbing soothing circles into the tight muscles of Yoongi’s shoulder. He can see his husband trying his hardest not to melt under the touch, intent on staying pouty. Jimin thinks it’s cute. “Okay. Do you want a drink instead?” He offers. But Yoongi shakes his head and Jimin lets out a long, teasing sigh. “It’s too bad you’re so grumpy. I was thinking that maybe once you’d finished your meal, you could eat me out for dessert.” Yoongi’s hands find Jimin’s hips as quick as a flash, fingers gripping bruises into his flesh. “Oh, you were, were you?” His voice is dark all signs of worry washed from his face and replaced with a hooded gaze. Jimin nods innocently. “But, if you’re too upset. I guess I can just go – play with myself.” He remarks coyly, tongue flicking out to lick teasingly across his lip. Yoongi groans eyes following the movement of Jimin’s tongue. His lips find Jimin’s in a brief bruising kiss, roughly holding Jimin in place by the nape of his neck. He tugs on Jimin’s bottom lip with his teeth a little before pulling away. “You can only play with yourself, if you let me watch.” ____________ It’s dangerously nearing 4:45 and Park Jisu is nowhere in sight. Jimin is pacing a little nervously by the door, lip worried in his teeth as the minuets tick by. Why was he stupid enough to agree to let his mother get a taxi by herself? That’s just fucking asking for trouble. When he finally realises that pacing isn’t getting him anywhere, he decides to go in search of his husband – who is also conveniently missing. The apartment is a little too quiet, and Jimin can almost feel Yoongi’s scheming permeating the air. It’s an unsettling feeling; one that’s been permeating the air of the apartment from the very moment Jimin mentioned his mother was coming. The two of them are a little more tense than usual, trying to ignore it as best they can but there’s an ominous feeling of a potential fight bubbling nastily around them. They always fight more when they have family around, it’s not just Jimin’s mother that draws out their bickering. Yoongi’s family is impossibly worse. It doesn’t take long till Jimin finds his husband, sprawled out on the floor of their main guest suit, attaching copious amounts of bubble wrap around the ornaments. He’s also gone through the hassle of bubble wrapping the edges and corners of the furniture, and there are covers over all the outlets. “Yoongi, honey, what are you doing?” Jimin asks patronizingly. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Yoongi gruffs.

Jimin is leaning casually in the doorway, trying his hardest not to laugh at his husband’s silly schemes. “It looks like you’re wrapping your grandmother’s vase in bubble wrap.” “It’s called baby-proofing.” Yoongi corrects and it causes Jimin’s mouth to flop open like a fish. Yoongi snaps his eyes up to finally acknowledge his husband and there’s a serious warning to his eys. “Don’t look like that, last time she was here she broke 7 million won worth of shit.” “Namjoon breaks that much every time he’s here and we’ve never baby-proofed the apartment for him.” Jimin squawks. “This is different.” “This isn’t different, you’re just being petty.” “I’m debating putting child locks in the kitchen and in the bathroom too, just in case.” Yoongi adds going back to wrapping the vase in bubble wrap. Jimin is all but ready to unleash hell on his husband, the pent up aggression about to bubble over completely and engulf them in their second fight of the trip. But the loud banging of the front door opening stops him. They’re both frozen in place like rabbits caught in the headlights eyes widely staring at each other from across the room. Neither of them says a word as they wait in anticipation for what’s to come. “Jiminie! Hades! I’m here!” His mother calls causing them both to flinch in surprise at the sudden disruption to the silence. “Death has come.” Yoongi breathes and Jimin shoots him a warning glare. It doesn’t take long before his mother finds them, head popping up from behind Jimin to look into the spare room. “Hades, what the hell you doing?” She asks, satoori thick. Yoongi grits his teeth. “These are for a charity auction.” He lies easily through his teeth. Park Jisu snorts. “This is for my benefit isn’t it?” She retorts. Yoongi contemplates his words before going with an unbelieving “No?” Jisu shakes her head. “You still not over the butt ugly box thing?” “That was my great grandmother’s music box and it was fucking priceless.” Yoongi snaps back. Jisu is laughing. “Whatever rich boy, I’m sure you’ve replaced it by now.” And before Yoongi can snap back an attack, she’s spun on her heels to envelop Jimin in the tightest of hugs. Her smile is wide across her golden face, eyes scrunched into smiles of their own. Jimin thinks she looks no different to the way she did when he was a child. However, there are small telltale signs of aging on her face that’s she’s tried so hard to hide with make up. But Jimin thinks that the small crows feet in the corners of her eyes and the laughter lines around her plump rouge lips are beautiful signs of a life lived with happiness. “Hello my chick, I’ve missed you so much.” She greets, pretty much squeezing the life right out of him. She smells of salty air, hot chocolates and old books – a smell that Jimin all too familiarly associates with home. God he fucking misses it. He wraps his arms around his mother squeezing just as tight, “I missed you to, Eomma.” She pulls

away from him, scanning her eyes up and down him just to check that he’s okay. They share the same eyes; from the shape, to the dark colour and to the way they both carry all their emotions in them. She nods in satisfaction once she deems Jimin healthy and cups his hands in her own rocking them from side to side. “See, I told you I’d make it here before 5.” ____________

“So, when are you leaving?” Yoongi announces as they finally sit down to eat. It had taken Jimin and his mother a good hour and a half of childish bickering to decide what to eat. Jimin was adamant that he cook them something healthy. He knows for a fact that his mother has probably been gouging herself on take out back in Busan. So now is the perfect chance to get something healthy into his irresponsible mother. But Park Jisu was adamant that it’s too late too cook anything decent now, plus she doesn’t want Jimin’s time monopolized by cooking. She had come all the way from Busan to see him after all. Eventually, they decided on ordering Pizza, with Yoongi having little to no say in the matter. He simply sat in his chair by the window, watching the two bicker non-stop showing no interest to get involved. But that’s the way his mother and himself work, the role of ‘parent’ shared evenly between them most of the time and Jimin knows that all their bickering is just in jest. Jisu promises that take out will be just for tonight and Jimin can cook for the rest of her stay. But Jimin knows they’re empty promises and they’ll have the same argument every night for the rest of her stay. Jisu is happily munching on her pizza whilst shooting a teasing smirk Yoongi’s way. “Don’t make it too obvious about how happy you are to see me.” She mocks. Park Jisu had arrived at their apartment wearing an orange and red sundress (even though it’s the height of winter) with a large baby blue pea coat and even thicker black tights. But now, as she indulged on her pizza like a woman starved, she had thrown off the pretty sundress and heels and swapped them for an old pair of sweats and Jimin’s College hoodie. “I swear to god, I thought I lost this.” Jimin huffs, pulling on the sleeve of the black hoodie. Jisu smiles through a mouthful of pizza, not even bothering to swallow it down properly. “You did, you lost it in my wardrobe.” She comments before indulging in another bite. Her hair, of which currently sported the same mousey brown as Jimin, had gotten incredibly long recently. Jimin made a mental note to try and force the woman to go to a hairdresser while she’s here. Lord knows how forgetful his mother gets. “I don’t know whether it’s endearing or creepy how fucking similar you too look.” Yoongi comments, chomping on his own pizza. “It’s getting worse with age.” Jisu scoffs. “Lets not talk about age, your mother-in-law is sensitive about that.” “Please, you’re only turning 40 next year.” Yoongi chides. Jisu makes a dramatic gasp, holding her hand to her heart. “Jiminie, did you not tell him the rules?” “What rules?” Yoongi spits.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “All talk about the big 4-0 is prohibited around Eomma.” He elaborates. “Because she doesn’t look a day over 30 and she wants people to mistake us for siblings again.” “People never did that anyway.” Yoongi heckles. Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “Excuse me? How can you even say that?” He accuses. Yoongi is mid bite on his pizza and ultimately decides to lower it from the accusatory way his husband is looking at him. “Say what?” “That people don’t mistake us for siblings.” Jisu repeats and there’s a snarky smirk on her face. “Well, clearly they didn’t, they’d have to be stupid to…” Suddenly his eyes go comically wide and his mouth snaps shut like a mousetrap. “Remembering the first time we met are we, Hades?” Jisu taunts. Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Shut up.” “Oh, Sunshine…” Jimin begins dropping his voice an octave as he mimics his husband. “You should have told me your sister was visiting.” Jisu is practically dying of laughter, pizza long forgotten on her plate as she giggles into her hands. They laugh the same – Jimin and his mother. The act itself takes over their whole body; lips pulling wide, eyes crinkling into crescent smiles of their own and body doubling over from the sheer force of their humor. Yoongi grumpily picks at his pizza. “I don’t sound like that.” “You sat with us for two hours drinking coffee and we just didn’t have the heart to correct you.” Jimin smiles sweetly to his husband, reaching out and taking his hand in his own. “You were trying so hard to impress her.” Jimin squeezes his hand to let him know it’s all in jest. He had found it really damn cute that Yoongi had mistaken his mother for his sister and tried his hardest to make a good impression regardless. “Fat lot of good that did me.” Yoongi remarks coldly, but he squeezes Jimin’s hand back nonetheless. Jimin had gone through his whole life being told that his mother and himself looked similar. It was harder to see whilst he was a kid, but as he got older and the two became the same height it was plain as day. It helped that they were so close in age, only 16 years apart. And on the rare few occasions, the two had even been mistaken for twins. “Jiminie, how’s work going? You still enjoying it?” Jisu asks. Jimin, with his hand still enclosed in Yoongi’s, beams at his mother. “Work is great.” He announces. “I was so worried about starting off in such a tough school, but you were right it’s far more rewarding.” Jisu nods excitedly. “I’m so glad! We have to swap stories later! I taught at this one school recently. With a kid who was adamant that ‘European greetings’, meant hugging each other twice and leaning from side to side rather than kissing each other on both cheeks.” Jimin is giggling before his mother has even had a chance to finish the story, and he can even hear a soft chuckle from Yoongi. “Kids are so weird, I love them.” Jisu declares scooping up another slice and munching merrily.

Jimin is smiling so happily at his mother that he misses the sudden coy look that falls across her face. She coughs, clearing her throat. “Speaking of kids, you two decided on any yet?” Jimin proceeds to choke on his own saliva and he’s certain Yoongi is having a hard time swallowing his food. “That’s a bit heavy, Eomma.” Jimin replies lightly, face flushed red. He unwraps his hand from Yoongi’s and reaches for his water instead. Anything to distract himself from the fact his mother is trying to approach the topic of kids with Yoongi in the room with them. “We’ve only been married half a year.” Yoongi justifies quickly. Jimin nods in agreement. “I think it’s a little too early to be talking about kids.” Jisu shrugs. “Chick, you’re already far older than me when I had you. And you wont even have to go through all the hard stuff like childbirth. Really it’s a win, win.” Yoongi looks like his soul has just left his body and Jimin kind of wants to claw his ears off. Jimin is not usually one to shy away from talking to his mother about anything considering the two are so close. But now that Yoongi is in the equation, he feels like this is personal stuff that should either be disgusted between the two of them, or with his mother when Yoongi’s out of ear shot. “What brought this on anyway?” Yoongi asks and Jimin can feel his mortification radiating off of him. “Do you even want to be a grandmother?” Jisu scoffs. “Fuck no, I’m still struggling to come to grips with the fact I’m a mother.” “Eomma!” Jimin scolds. “You’ve had 24 years for that.” Yoongi jibes. “Whether you have a kid at 16 like me, or in your late 20s like your mother, Hades, being a parent is still a hard concept to wrap your head around.” Jisu sighs a little nostalgically. Yoongi’s eyes narrow menacingly, wheels turning in his head. “You mentioned my mother, why?” She smiles innocently, “Am I not allowed to mention your mother?” Her smile is far too innocent and it doesn’t sit right with Jimin. “Spit it out Eomma, why the sudden interest in grandkids?” Jimin asks with his arms folded about his chest and leveling her a no nonsense look. “Okay! Okay!” She exclaims theatrically, flopping herself onto the dinning room table and face just barely missing her plate of pizza. “I’ve been hassled at least three times a month since the wedding by Min Yerin in an attempt to get me to convince you to have grandkids.” “Why you?” Yoongi asks not really all that surprised. When Ms Min wants something, she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it. Jisu sighs, loud and long and unnecessarily pathetic. “She seams to have it in her head that you’re a bit of an asshole to talk too.” She explains. “She claims her son is as emotionally understanding as a rock and seeing as how I’m so close with Jiminie, she thought I’d be better to handle the topic.” She shivers. “I just couldn’t say no.” Yoongi scoffs, a small smirk playing at his lips. “That woman is stone cold heartless.”

Jimin sighs, rounding the table and pulling his mother’s hair out of her plate of pizza. “Ms Min isn’t a very emotionally understanding lady at the best of times either, Eomma.” He explains softly. “She’s better at emotional manipulation.” Yoongi offers. Jimin shoots him an eye roll. “She’s not that bad.” Yoongi shivers and Jimin snickers. “No, no, she is.” “She’s terrifying! If Min Yerin wants grandkids, by fuck that woman is getting grandkids.” Jisu exclaims, sitting up straight again. “At least tell her you spoke with me and you’re thinking about it?” She shoots Yoongi’s way hopefully. Yoongi takes a bite out of his pizza and chews it slowly. “And why would I do that? What’s in it for me?” He asks acting stereotypically like the ruthless mafia leader he’s feared to be. “Yoongi.” Jimin warns. “Save your poor mother-in-law, Hades.” Jisu pleads melodramatically once more. Yoongi acts like he’s pondering her pleas before pulling a devilish smirk to his lips. “But I think suffering through more of my mother’s calls would be so much fun for you.” Jimin huffs, cutting off Yoongi and his mother’s impending fight. “Of course we’ll talk to Ms Min, won’t we, honey?” He snaps through gritted teeth. Yoongi mumbles his forced agreement before going back to picking miserably at his pizza. Standard pout on his face and tongue pushing against his cheek in that way he always does when he’s ticked off. “Chick, do you have to work all week or do you have some time to entertain your sister?” Jisu jokes. Jimin giggles. “I took the week off as soon as I heard you were coming.” He announces. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.” “Excellent!” Jisu exclaims wrapping her arms around her son’s shoulders and hanging there. “I want to visit this bookshop in Hongdae that a colleague of mine told me about.” “Do you know the name?” Jimin asks, racking his brain trying to remember what kind of bookshops are even in Hongdae. She shakes her head. “But Namjoonie will!” She singsongs before glancing Yoongi’s way. “Ask him for me will ya, it’s apparently kind of old?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Sure, cos Namjoon knows every bookshop in Hongdae.” “I honestly wouldn’t put it past him.” Jimin muses. “Oh, oh!” He exclaims excitedly. “We should dye our hair!” “What? Why?” Yoongi snaps his attention to his husband from his phone so quickly, Jimin’s sure he must have twisted his neck. “Oh my god, yes.” Jisu announces excitedly. “We’ve been brunettes for too long. I want to go for something flashy.” She decides. “What’s wrong with being brunettes? I like you hair colour, Sunshine.” Yoongi tries once more, but he knows his words are falling on deaf ears.

Jimin grins. “Well, not too flashy because I still have to work and…” “Pink!” Jisu decides with a nod of her head, and there’s no way Jimin can say no to her. “You’ll look like fucking cotton candy.” Yoongi mumbles. “Did you say something?” Jisu asks, finally acknowledging her son-in-law with a tormenting smirk. Yoongi smiles bitterly and waves his phone around. “Namjoon thinks he knows the place you’re talking about. He said he’ll take you tomorrow.” He replies diplomatically and it makes Jimin proud. Jisu smiles so brilliantly that her eyes crease up into crescents. “Namjoonie is such a kind kid.” She finally loosens her grip around Jimin’s shoulders. “You should have married him.” She comments offhandedly Yoongi chokes on his pizza and Jimin exclaims a horrified; “Eomma!” But Jisu just chuckles at their scandalised looks and pulls herself to her feet. “Anyway, I’m off too bed.” She announces breezily once more. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.” Jimin’s eyebrows pull together in worry. All horrified thoughts about Namjoon and him being a couple suddenly pushed aside. “Really? You okay? I knew I should have cooked instead.” Jisu brushes him off with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be fine, Jiminie. It’s probably from a full day of travelling, I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” Jimin sighs, clearly not happy to just leave her be. “Well, I’ll bring you some pain killers before you go to sleep, okay?” Jisu leans down and kisses the top of her son’s head. “Thanks, Chick.”

____________ “Pink hair means she hasn’t got another job lined up.” Yoongi comments whilst the two clear the kitchen. Jimin shrugs. “So? That’s nothing new, really.” “It can’t be that hard to hold a job.” Yoongi mumbles, throwing the leftover pizza into a container. Jimin sighs; he’s getting a little sick of the same argument over and over again. “Well it is if you’re a high school drop out. She’s doing the best she can.” He’s rinsing the dishes in the sink and he wishes the water could drown out his husband’s complaints. Yoongi makes his way over to the fridge. “I’m sure there’s plenty of schools out there looking for an English Literature sub, she’s probably not looking hard enough.” He sighs. “This just means she’ll be staying here longer.” “Is there something wrong with that?” Jimin asks, voice tight with irritation. “I thought you said that my mother could come and visit any time she likes.” “I did.” Yoongi replies carefully, a little too carefully. Like he’s purposefully trying to avoid the impending argument when they both know that’s futile. “It would just be nice to know how long she’ll be hanging around for.”

Jimin supposes he could just nod and agree with his husband’s statement. He could suggest that he can bring the topic up with Jisu in the morning just to stop the impending argument like they have been doing for the past two days. Yoongi will agree hastily and the two can finish cleaning up in silence before going to bed with so many words left unsaid. It’s the same routine every time a family member comes to into town. In the case of Park Jisu; Yoongi sulks the whole time she’s around, nit picks at all her life choices and then complains about them to Jimin. Whilst Jimin tries his hardest to keep the peace, even though he’s sick and tired of Yoongi’s constant bad mood. It’s probably why they have this argument over and over again. Nothing is getting resolved and so Jimin decides is better to just get it over with. Ignoring the situation just isn’t working anymore. He huffs, turning from the sink to face his husband, plate still in hand. “Why do you hate my mother so much?” Yoongi actually has the audacity to look offended and all it does is rile Jimin up even more. “I don’t hate your mother.” His tone is hushed and rushed. Jimin rolls his eyes. “You never have one nice thing to say to her.” “She never has one nice thing to say to me, either.” Yoongi spits back. Their angry voices go no louder than whispers, the two of them hyper aware of the guest in their spare room. This isn’t the first time they’ve fought with people around, and it probably wont be the last. But safe to say, the two of them are very good at doing so without alerting the people around them. “She’s being sarcastic, my mother is sarcastic.” Jimin illuminates. “Just like Tae, and yet you don’t have a problem with him.” “Tae actually likes me.” “My mother likes you too.” “She has a pretty fucked up way of showing affection towards me if that’s the case.” “Stop it, just stop…” The plate slips from Jimin’s hands shattering so loudly to the floor that it causes the both of them to flinch. They stand there in the deafening silence that follows, eyes trained on the plate as if just watching it will put it back together. Eventually Jimin stops staring and bends down, kitchen towel in hand, ready to pick up the pieces. It takes Yoongi a few more minuets of looking at the destroyed plate before he squats down next to Jimin too. They’re silent for a while as they stack up the bigger pieces into the cloth. Jimin doesn’t like the silence between them, it’s heavy and riddled with regret and it makes him tired. “I can’t keep arguing with you about my mother.” Jimin finally sighs. Yoongi stills, a shard of china in his hand. “I don’t mean to argue with you, Sunshine.” Yoongi replies. “And I know I keep telling you this, and I keep proving it to be wrong. But I just – “ He breaks off his trail of speech, too many thoughts clouding his mind. Jimin waits, eyes trained on the mess before him, hands not stilling as he cleans. He’s not going to

put words in his husband’s mouth, he’s realised he’s done that a lot in the past and it’s done nothing but make things worse. Jimin knows Yoongi isn’t anywhere near as close to his family as Jimin is with his mother. Yoongi’s relationship with them is rocky at best and it’s more than a little hard for him to comprehend the tightknit bond Jimin and his mother share. Jimin also understands his mother is a little difficult to get along with sometimes because she’s outspoken and considerably weird. But Yoongi has been around Jimin and Jisu for 4 years now. He has a pretty decent perception of the way the two work and ample enough time to get used to the weirdness. Yet he’s still spouting the same old worn out arguments, over and over again. It’s not fair to Jimin, it’s not fair to his mother and it’s really not fair to Yoongi either. Yoongi clicks his tongue. “She just rattles me up the wrong way.” Yoongi concludes and Jimin tries very hard not to snap back a remark. “I didn’t purposefully take you away from her, I love the fact that you two are so close. I envy it in a way, I never had that.” Jimin turns his eyes on his husband; he’s not looking at Jimin as he fiddles with the piece of broken plate. His eyes look glassy and distant and he looks just as tired as Jimin is. “I’m sad that you think I don’t like her. And I’m sad that you think you have to persuade me to let her stay here. She’s your mother, she should be over as much as possible.” Yoongi continues. “I just, I wish she’d be happy for us, you know.” Yoongi smirks. “My family may be fucking assholes, but at least they’re happy for us.” Jimin sighs, dropping the towel full of broken crockery back on the floor. It makes a muffled bang as it falls, the pieces spilling out everywhere again but Jimin doesn’t care. He cups his husband’s face in his hands and turns it towards him. “She is happy for us.” Jimin explains, but he can see that Yoongi doesn’t really believe him. “Yoonie, trust me. She’s over the moon happy for us. I mean look at us, look at what we have. We have everything she never could have, and that’s all down to you. You gave me the life she always wanted for me. How could she not be happy for us?” Yoongi leans into the touch, eyes shutting from the comfort it brings. “I know she’s only teasing, but it’s hard to take it in stride sometimes. You know how arrogant and defensive I get.” Jimin chuckles softly. “I do, and so does she.” He strokes his thumbs on the apples of his husband’s cheeks. “That’s why she teases you.” “She reminds of the boys in pre-school who went around pulling the pigtails of the girls they like.” Yoongi scoffs. Jimin smiles. “Yup, that’s Eomma.” He places a quick kiss to Yoongi’s lips and Yoongi sighs. “I don’t hate her either, you know.” “Do I?” Jimin utters in a small voice. Yoongi covers Jimin’s hands with his own nodding furiously. “I think your mother is an incredible woman. I don’t hate her, I admire her.” His face drops a little. “Like I said, I just get snappy because I’m a stubborn ass.” Jimin searches in his husband’s dark eyes for a minuet; getting lost in the depth they hold. All Jimin can hear and see from his husband is sincerity and really, that’s all Jimin can ask for. He’s trying, for Jimin’s sake. Just like he does with Taehyung and Seokjin who can be equally as tormenting towards

Yoongi. He’s doing his best, for Jimin’s. Jimin nods. “Thank you.” Yoongi looks confused. “Why are you thanking me? That’s not usually how this argument goes.” Jimin sighs. “I know, that’s why I want to change it. I bring this argument up just as much as you do and I’m tired of it.” Yoongi nods in agreement. “So I’ve decided to stop belittling you over it, and thank you for trying instead.” “You’re not belittling me, Sunshine.” Yoongi comforts. “Sure you take your mother’s side more than mine.” He teases and Jimin rolls his eyes. “But I do understand where you’re coming from. She’s your only family, I more than willing to try.” “And that’s all I ask for.” Jimin smiles softly before pulling his husband’s face towards his. “Thank you.” He breathes before finishing the argument with a kiss.

_____________ “So, pink?” Namjoon comments as he stands outside the salon holding a tray of coffee. He’s dressed considerably less gangster like today – and by that Jimin means he’s ditched the black and opted for jeans. Ripped jeans, a large navy blue turtleneck sweater, brown trench coat and thick square rimmed glasses in fact. He looks like a bookworm and it’s a complete 180 from the typical formal attire Jimin is used to seeing on his hyung. Jisu cocks a delicate eyebrow, hands resting on her hips. “Before you grace us with whatever witty remark you may have, might I direct your attention to the grape like shade that seams to have infected your hair, Namjoonie?” Namjoon chuckles, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Touché.” He responds offering out the tray of coffees. “Shall we get going?” Jisu smirks at her son before reaching out and taking one of the coffees. “I knew I liked you Namjoonie, there’s no snarky remarks with you.” She winks before sliding into the car. Namjoon is grinning evilly at Jimin. “With that baby blue coat, she looks like a pastel wet dream.” He comments quietly. There was no way Namjoon was just going to let the fact his mother looks like something straight out of a Hello Kitty comic slide. Jimin giggles taking one of the coffees. “And what about me?” He asks with wide eyes. “How do I look, hyung?” The evil grin never once leaves Namjoon’s face as his eyes rake over Jimin’s hair. “Please let me be around when you show it to hyung.” Jimin can feel dread clawing at his insides. “Will he not like it?” Namjoon doesn’t respond, just wiggles his eyebrows and ushers Jimin into the car. “That sour face really doesn’t match the pink, sweetie.” His mother mocks once he’s slid into the backseat with her. Jimin rolls his eyes. “I don’t think pink was such a good idea.” He babbles. Sure Jimin thinks it looks good on him. But Yoongi’s the one that has to look at it more the most and he really doesn’t like the

idea of Yoongi being repulsed by his hair. Jisu looks horrified. “What are you talking about?” She exclaims as Namjoon slides into the passengers seat and instructs the driver on where to go. “Pink is a great idea, isn’t pink a great idea Namjoonie?” She calls to the front. Jimin can see that same devilish grin pulled across Namjoon’s face and it really doesn’t suit the nerdy look he’s sporting today. “I think pink is the best idea you’ve ever had.” Jimin wines, fidgeting in his seat. “They wont like it.” “Who your school?” Jisu asks. “He’s talking about Yoongi.” Namjoon clarifies. Jimin flushes brilliantly and shoots a glare Namjoon’s way. “No I’m not.” He defends. “It’s my hair, I can do what I like with it. Yoongi has no say.” He defends; honor bruised ever so slightly at the idea that what his husband’s thoughts sway what he thinks. He’s a strong independent man who doesn’t need anyone’s approval to feel good about himself. Praise kink who? “Besides you can just dye it before you go back to school chick, I don’t mind.” His mother explains. “I start a new job in a fortnight so this isn’t staying too long on my head either.” She beams. Jimin takes a sip of his coffee, smiling contently from the warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a new job?” His mother waves her hand dismissively. She’s trying and failing to look nonchalant about the topic. “It’s not that big of a deal.” Jimin smirks knowing his mother all too well. “You forgot, didn’t you?” His mother bats him playfully on the arm. “I didn’t forget, I was just thinking of other things.” She defends. “Okay, okay.” Jimin placates. “So, what’s the job this time?” Suddenly there’s a brilliantly bright smile spreading across her face. It’s so contagious that Jimin finds himself mirroring it, not even knowing yet why she’s so happy. “One of the literature lecturers at the University is on maternity leave for the next year or so.” She begins. “And she’s not even sure whether she’ll be able to come back. She’s having twins see, and although she’d like to have a career and be a mother, it’s kinda hard when you got two kids instead of one and…” “Eomma, your babbling.” Jimin points out endearingly. Jisu laughs. “Well anyway, they’re looking for a long term sub and if things go well, a permanent replacement and they actually called me.” There’s so much excitement in her voice and Jimin can see stars sparkling in her eyes. “For once it wasn’t me graveling around for a job, they were really impressed with my lectures the last time I subbed there so they called me and offered me the position.” Jimin’s face is split into the biggest of smiles, eyes crinkled in joy. “Holy shit, that’s amazing news!” He announces.

Jisu squeals nodding her head. “The pay’s not fabulous, but it’s solid income, Chick. A pay check every month.” “That’s the dream.” Jimin teases. Namjoon pokes his head around the back of the front seat to look at them. “Is there a reason you two are talking in a pitch only dogs can hear?” Jimin beams at his hyung. “Eomma got a permanent job!” He announces. Jisu rolls her eyes. “Well, not permanent yet. But potentially.” Namjoon smiles his signature dimpled smile and raises his coffee cup towards Jisu. “Congratulations.” “We should celebrate.” Jimin announces, excitement bubbling in his veins. “There’s this really nice restaurant that just opened in Gangnam.” He explains turning his attention to Namjoon. “It’s a Japanese place, right hyung?” Namjoon nods. “Want me to make a reservation?” “Hold on, hold on.” Jisu chuckles. “What kind of restaurant we talking about here?” “A nice one.” Jimin supplies, already know the train of thought his mother is heading in. Jisu looks as though someone just offered her dog shit to eat. “Do I have to dress up?” “What you’re wearing will be fine.” Namjoon explains spinning back round to face the front. Jimin can tell he’s already keying in the number for the restaurant and muttering safety plans for the evening to the driver. “It’s a fancy place aint it?” Jisu asks but she already knows the answer. “Take away isn’t a celebration.” Namjoon shoots from the front. Jimin nods in agreement. “Not when you eat it every day anyway.” She huffs, folding her arms across her chest and spilling coffee on her coat. Jimin pulls a tissue from his bag and dabs at the stain. “You’re terrible.” “Well I can’t go to a fancy place with coffee on my coat.” She justifies, waving the coffee around dangerously once more. Jimin snatches it from her hand before there’s a full-blown coffee tsunami in the back seat. “Eomma.” He wines. “I can get you something to wear if you’d feel more comfortable.” Namjoon offers. “Hoseok’s sister works at the Gucci in Gangnam.” “Does Tae know that?” Jisu giggles, well aware of Taehyung’s obsession with Gucci. Namjoon narrows his eyes ominously. “He does not, and we’ve all sworn to keep it a secret. We must protect Dawon at all costs.” “Eomma, please, let us spoil you.” Jimin chimes in. “I’m happy for you, and when Yoongi hears I’m sure he will be too.”

“Will Hades even be able to make it?” Jisu asks. Namjoon nods. “I can make sure he’s free by 8pm.” Jisu mulls her decision in her head for a while before huffing out a defeated sigh. “Fine.” She points a finger in Namjoon’s direction. “But I want that outfit from Gucci just so I can rub it in Tae’s face the next time I see him.” She pouts at Jimin. “Did you know he’s been too busy to message his favorite Eomma?” Jimin rolls his yes. “Tae has an Eomma of his own that he has to message.” Namjoon chuckles as he pulls his phone to his ear to make the reservation. “We’re pretty close to the office, so we can stop by to talk to hyung about it.” It’s Jimin’s turn to groan then, dread bubbling in his stomach. “You can just call him.” “But I told you, I want to witness fist hand what happens when he sees that his precious sunshine is now a strawberry Mochi.” He teases and Jimin squirms in his seat. “Joonie-hyung!” He wines, but it falls on dead ears as Namjoon speaks rapidly into the phone with the worker at the restaurant. “Holy shit, I didn’t think about that.” Jisu mutters from beside him. “Namjoon’s right, we should stop by the office to see if he’s free in person.” “Eomma!” Jimin gasps offended that his mother wont take his side. Jisu titters at him. “Calm down chick, let your Eomma have some fun.” She winks, settling excitedly into her seat. All too soon, the car is pulling up out the front of the office and Jimin is feeling a more than a little nervous. Yoongi has never had any issues with the way Jimin has dyed his hair before. Though he has heard through numerous teasing from Hoseok, that Yoongi gets pretty depressed whenever Jimin goes to dye his hair. “The words; ‘it’s an end of an era’ are muttered one too many times for my liking.” Jimin sifts his hands through his satchel until he finds his grey beanie and ultimately decides to shove it unceremoniously on his head. One of the plus sides about looking so much like his mother is that Yoongi can decide whether he likes the pink on her first. That way Jimin can cheekily dye it without Yoongi knowing and it’ll be a win win situation. Jisu groans. “You spoil all the fun.” Jimin pokes his tongue out at his mother and quickly checks over his reflection in the mirror. He pushes all loose pink strands up in the beanie and sighs a little solemnly. He’d picked his outfit out especially to show case his hair; going with the all black theme his gangster friends seam to love so much. The oversized black jumper that palls down his shoulder reveling his golden neck has always been a favorite of Yoongi’s too. Maybe that’ll be enough to distract him from the candy floss mess atop his head. Namjoon opens the door for them chuckling at Jimin’s distressed actions. “Hyung is on his way down.” He explains. “He’s on his way to a meeting so he doesn’t have much time to chat.” Jimin nods, that’s more than perfect. He’ll have enough time to make a positive or negative remark in regards to Jisu’s pink locks without pressing too mush into the state of Jimin’s hair. That’ll give him amply enough time to re-dye his hair before their dinner tonight. It’ll totally fuck up his hair, but

Jimin was wrong earlier when he said he didn’t need anyone’s approval to feel good. He has a praise kink the size of Texas that he enjoys nothing more than having Yoongi feed. Jimin slips out from the car and narrowing his eyes at Namjoon. “Don’t tell him anything.” “You spoil all the fun.” Namjoon grouses. Jisu titters. “That’s what I said.” She scrambles from the car to stand by Jimin and Namjoon shuts it behind them. He leads them towards the office, instinctively hovering as close to Jimin as possible whilst Jisu gabbles insistently about how much colder Seoul is than Busan. They’re barely even through the office doors when it happens. Namjoon has his hand outstretched to open the large glass doors for them, eyes on his phone. Jimin is pulling the beanie down more securely on his head making sure all pink strands are hidden. Jisu is still complaining about the weather by Jimin’s side and Yoongi is storming through the office lobby towards them, flocked by Hoseok and his chauffeur. None of them are paying attention, all of them are too relaxed and thus none of them see it coming. There’s a loud squeal that cuts his mother’s ranting off mid sentence and Jimin snaps his head in the direction of the sound to find Jisu being dragged down the street. She’s putting up a good fight, trying to yank her wrist out of the grip of a man who is dressed head to toe in black. But he’s clearly a lot stronger than her, managing to pull her a fair distance away from Jimin and Namjoon in a short amount of time. “Eomma!” Jimin screams lunging foreword in an attempt to reach his mother and free her, but he feels himself being pulled back at the waist. “Eomma!” He bellows again, struggling against the arms that are holding him back. “Fuck!” He hears Namjoon curse before he’s throwing himself down the street after Jisu and her kidnapper. The man, whom has a hold of his mother, has a black mask covering half his face and a hood pulled tightly over his head to conceal as much of his identity as possible. But Jimin can still see his eyes widen in panic as he spots the tall terrifying lavender haired man sprinting towards him. He ultimately gives up with trying to drag Jisu away by force and speedily throws her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. His mother screams, fists banging against the guy’s back as he runs down the street. “EOMMA!” Jimin screeches and the word rips painfully up his throat. He’s thrashing wildly, hands clawing at the arms around his torso in a futile attempt to free himself. Jimin feels hands cupping his face, a body moving to stand in front of him and ultimately blocking the view he once had on his mother. He lets out a panic cry, but someone is gently hushing him, thumbs rubbing gently on the apples of his cheek. “Sunshine, stay with Hoseok.” Yoongi tells him and Jimin is calming a little at his words. Jimin can see from Yoongi’s eyes that he’s serious, that his words are not to be fucked with. But still, Jimin wants to protest, to scream, to shout, to run after the fucking asshole that’s just snatched his mother away. He can’t just stand by and do nothing. But he doesn't have the time to voice his complaints, because as quickly as Yoongi appeared, he’s gone the heat from his hands still lingering on Jimin’s face. Yoongi’s running full speed down the street after Jisu and there’s nothing Jimin can do to help.

The street is busy; he’s already lost sight of his mother and Namjoon in the crowd despite the bright heads of hair they’re currently sporting. And as he watches with large horrified eyes after his husbands retreating figure, he looses sight of him quickly in the crowd too. It ignites Jimin’s need to protect, and he begins thrashing wildly in the grasp around him. “Let me go! Let me go!” Jimin screams, kicking his legs up and trying to pull his arms free of his restraints. He can hear Hoseok hushing him, arms gripping Jimin tightly in place. “I’m sorry Mochi, you know I can’t do that.” He replies and his tone is dark, no jest or happiness in it at all. It turns Jimin’s blood cold. “She’s my mother, I can’t just sit by and do nothing, Hoseok! Let me go!” He’s begging, begging like a man clinging onto his last strings in life. But it’s falling on deaf ears. “I’m sorry.” Hoseok replies and Jimin doubles his efforts to escape his hyung’s arms. His fingernails are scratching along Hoseok’s bare arms, feet trying to knock out Hoseok’s legs under him and yet Hoseok doesn’t even flinch. It’s clear that Jimin isn’t getting free unless Hoseok allows it and Jimin wants to rip his hair out in frustration and worry. Jimin is about to give up all hope at escaping from Hoseok’s grasp. His body is emotionally and physically drained to the point he thinks he could be sick and his limbs are shaking dangerously. But all thoughts of giving up are drained from his mind by the single deafening sound of a gunshot. It rings out through the air turning Jimin’s face pale and there’s a ripple of fear that washes over the whole street as they snap their attention to the sound. People freeze for only a second, clearly debating in their head whether that’s an actual gunshot or some other innocent sound like a car back firing. But in that split second of shock, Hoseok’s arms go lack around Jimin and Jimin seizes his chance. With the relaxed grip around him, Jimin easily wiggles his way free from an unsuspecting Hoseok and darts his way through the crowd as fast as his legs can carry him. He can hear Hoseok shouting after him, close on his heels but Jimin doesn’t care. He knows that a gun has just been fired. He’s been plagued by the same sound countless times in his nightmares and he knows that nothing good comes from a sound like that. He can feel his hands shaking as he tenses them into tight fists, his heart is throbbing painfully in his chest and his breath is pulling raggedly between his lips. He wants to run in the opposite direction, he doesn’t want to see more blood – but he has to keep going. He’s not sure how long he’s run; his feet are numb as they slap desperately along the pavement and his lungs are burning. He’s almost lost his balance one too many times to count as he slams into passersby on the street in his haste. He’s dizzyingly scanning the crowd for a mop of pink, or purple or the raven locks he so loves. And just when he’s about to loose all home, his eyes finally fall upon a mop of candy pink hair huddled over in a small side street. He throws himself into the side street, breathing heavily and skidding to a stop just a little way in front of his mother. He’s certain there are more people in the side street along with her, but there’s an unfiltered petrified look twisting up his mother’s features. It’s tearing up his insides and all Jimin can think about is the need to protect, to pull her away from whatever the hell it is that’s terrifying her so much. The air in the alleyway is oddly still and oddly quiet, like he’s looking at a photograph rather than real life. He steps foreword, kicking a rock as he goes and it seams to send a jolt of energy through the side street that brings it’s occupants back into animation.

His mother snaps his eyes over to him, widening when he sees him. “Jimin. Stay where you are, don’t come any closer.” Jisu warns him. She sounds stern and Jimin feels like he should listen to her. But his eyes are drawn to crimson red splattering’s across her cheek and Jimin feels like he’s going to be sick. He finally tears his eyes away from his mother’s face, to see her hands are shakily holding up a body that’s half collapsed on top of her. The person is barely moving save from a deep rise and fall of their back – clearly breathing heavily. Their body is completely limp in Jisu’s grasp and they’re dressed in all black. Jimin wonders if it’s the man who took her and the thought both frightens him and comforts him. He can’t see the person’s face, can’t see their hair as their head is flopped against their chest as they lay limp like a ragdoll. “Shut the fuck up.” The scarily dark voice of Namjoon rips through the street and it makes Jimin jump. He snaps his attention over to Namjoon, who is wrestling someone to the ground, gun waving around in Namjoon’s hand to get his opponent to obey easier. Namjoon’s glasses are cracked; he’s got only one arm in his coat sleeve while the rest of it hangs limply behind his back. It’s the most disheveled Jimin has ever seen him. In a quick snap of movements, Namjoon finally wrestles the guy flat on his stomach, grinding the man’s cheek painfully into the rough stone of the floor. He’s snapping sharp harsh words at the guy, words Jimin can’t hear as his eyes take in the scene before him. Jimin is staring at the man beneath Namjoon and it feels like the world is moving a mile a minuet around him while he’s stuck still. He can see familiar, wide terrified eyes peaking over the top of a black mask, head still covered protectively by the black hood of his jacket. Everything is excruciatingly slowly clicking place in his brain and yet Jimin is finding it difficult to understand what’s happening. Jimin takes a step foreword, his feet are moving on his own. “I said stay where you are!” His mother shouts again and Jimin can hear hysteria in her voice. “Holy shit.” Hoseok breathes from next to him, Jimin’s not sure when he got there. “Namjoon, you good?” Namjoon looks up for the first time, his eyes falling wide on Jimin and Jimin feels cold. “Hoseok you need to get Jimin away from here.” He orders. Jimin is sickened by the startling reality that it’s taken him so long to realise he hasn’t seen Yoongi’s face. And his eyes move slowly from Namjoon’s back to the lifeless body slumped over his mother. Fuck. “Hoseok!” Namjoon barks, but it’s too late. It’s too late because Jimin’s already seen it. He’s seen everything and he’s no longer having difficulty understanding what’s happened. There’s scarlet red blood dripping from Yoongi’s shoulder, his mother’s shaking stained hands are pushing against the wound and Jimin can see a discarded lightly smoking gun laying a few feet away from him. Yoongi. “Don’t just stand there Hoseok, help me!” Jisu yells. She’s gently manhandling Yoongi to lie on the floor, hands still pressed tightly to the wound on his shoulder. Hoseok snaps back to reality like he’s been electrocuted, wiping his phone out and running over to assist Jisu.

Jimin can see Yoongi’s face scrunched up in pain, paler than he’s ever seen it before. Namjoon is barking orders from the other end of the side street, the kidnapper now lying limply under him. Jisu is using her free hand to push back the sweaty locks from Yoongi’s face, whispering hushed words of praise while Hoseok uses his own jacket to stop the bleeding. And all the while, Jimin just stands there. “Mochi.” Namjoon calls and his voice is closer than it was before but Jimin’s having a hard time moving his eyes away from Yoongi. “It’ll be alright, you hear? Everything will be okay.” But as Jimin stands there watching helpless as his husband bleeds out on the cold stone streets of Seoul, Jimin can’t seam to find any comfort in his Hyung’s words. His husband’s just been shot and Jimin feels like he’s living his worst nightmare.

Chapter End Notes

Well isn't this just a rollercoaster of almost 16k words （・□・；） I had a lot of free time to day for editing because the kids are doing tests, and let me just say. People who can write smut are amazing. It's hard, and I barely wrote anything, holy fuck (`･/д＼･) So I'm sorry in advance if this turned out a little weird, I don't usually write smut, but I'm trying to practice cos I'm always finding some scenes need a bit of smut to get it moving haha ( *’ω’* ) But damn man, it's hard as shit! But I will keep trying (*•̀ᴗ•́*)‫̑̑ و‬ I also had to add some tags and stoof, because as I write more for this fic, so much keeps evolving and I'm excited to share it with you ♥ Also, thank you so much for over 400 kudos!? I feel so blessed, really, thank you very very much ~（*’∀’人）♥ I made a twitter specifically for all things Kpop, because I was beginning to annoy my family with my incessant need to scream my love for Korean idols. So if you wanna come be my friend and scream into the void with me, I'd be super happy o((*^▽^*))o hmu♥

It'll be Better in the Morning Chapter Summary

Jimin isn't sure how he's going to be able to get through this living nightmare. But everyone is here for him, because that's what families do.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

There are guests in his apartment and Jimin hasn’t offered any of them a drink. They’re all just standing around looking a little lost and Jimin thinks he should be making tea for them. The front door is open and there’s a really cold draft slipping it’s way into every corner of the place and Jimin thinks that he should probably close it and turn on some heaters. Namjoon is fiddling with his glasses; the left lense has spider web shatters running through it and Jimin thinks that he should take them from him before they get even more broken. Hoseok is chewing on his thumbnail, foot tapping irritatedly on the floor to stop himself from pacing. Jimin thinks that he should sit down because he’s been standing ever since they got back. Jimin can see a lot of things going on around him, but he feels oddly dissociated with them all. He feels, well, he’s not really sure what he feels right now. So he supposes empty is the right word. No one has said a word since they entered the penthouse suit and Jimin doubts any of them will be speaking any time soon. Jisu is tucked up close to Jimin, whose head is pillowed on his mother’s shoulder as she gently cards her hands through his pink locks. She would do this when he was younger and woke up crying from a nightmare. She would sit with him for hours, soothingly humming to him and pushing his sweaty locks away from his face. He can hear the rhythmic thumping of her heart, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes deep and evenly. As a kid, Jimin found himself calm instantly and all thoughts of the nightmare pushed away as his mother cradled him gently. But this isn’t a nightmare. No matter how many times in the last few hours Jimin has tried to convince himself that this can’t possibly be real. He’s always brought headily crashing to the realisation that this is in fact, all happening. His reality right now is his nightmare and there’s no way you can wake up from that. The silence ticks by around them, thick and pressing. The daylight sinks its way into twilight, purples and oranges dancing their way through the large windows. The new light darkens the worried expressions of the people scattered through his apartment. It feels like an eternity when the door to the main bedroom is opened and the doctor finally makes his way outside. Namjoon and Hoseok are on him like flies to honey the moment the door is opened. They’re spouting hurried questions at the doctor, questions that Jimin just cannot fathom right now.

Jimin has been staring at a stain on their living room mug for the last 40minuets. He can’t for the life of him remember how that stain got there. He knows there are only two possible reasons it can be there – either food was dropped or a drink was spilled. But the process leading up to the stain is completely lost on him. And yet there it is, a big fuck off stain that glares at them mockingly everyday of their lives but Jimin doesn't know how it got there. The doctor, who Jimin has only met once as he deals mainly with gang related injuries, is now blocking his vision of the stain. He’s squatting down so that the two of them are eye level and there’s a soft smile on his face. Jimin prides himself on being a good listener and being a friendly person – but for some reason he can’t really remember the doctor’s name. The doctor is talking to him, Jimin can see his lips forming around words but Jimin just can’t seam to register what the hell he’s saying. It’s almost like he’s in the middle of a Charlie Brown comic, listening to the adults talking to him but the only sound they make is trumpet noises. It looks like the doctor has just asked him something; he’s waiting on Jimin to respond. Jimin is usually pretty personable; his mother raised him to always be polite. But now he’s just staring at the doctor, eyes blinking every now and then, face expressionless and he’s not even sorry about how rude he’s being. He doesn’t care. The doctor’s eyes narrow at him and he tries asking Jimin his question one more time. Jimin knows he should probably pay attention; try to read his lips or stop staring long enough to bring his hearing back into focus. But he doesn’t and that seams to worry the doctor. Jimin still doesn’t care. The doctor turns his attention to his mother, whose hands haven’t stopped running through his hair. He can hear his mother responding to the doctor’s words for him and he feels like a kid again. Back when he was too shy to speak for himself and thankfully had a mother who could talk her way out of jail. Jisu pushes him up once she’s finished talking to the doctor. The doctor is still squatting in front of Jimin, eyes carefully watching him. He feels like a specimen in a lab and he’s annoyed that they’re spending so much time on him when Yoongi’s the one that really needs their help. Jimin feels cold every time he thinks of his husband. Jisu is smiling at him in that carefree way that usually always makes Jimin feel better. But there’s blood on her cheek and Jimin remembers how there was blood on her hand earlier too and nothing about her smile is making him feel any better. She’s squeezing his shoulders so tightly that Jimin can feel her stubby bitten nails digging into his skin. “Jimin.” She says, and Jimin can find that it’s easier hearing her than it is the strange doctor. “The doctor is going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?” Jimin’s not sure why he needs to sleep. There’s more important things happening right now, and the doctor should be with Yoongi not with him. He wants to tell them this, but there’s something lodged in his throat and it’s blocking the words from coming out. His lungs feel tight and he’s certain the whole of his chest is just imploding on him. But Jimin still can’t find it in himself to care.

“Is that okay?” His mother asks and it takes Jimin a while to realise she’s waiting for him to respond. “Nod your head for me if it’s okay.” And so Jimin does, he nods his head until his mother cups his face to stop him. She looks broken and her smile is so sickly fake that it makes Jimin want to cringe. But he doesn’t, he just continues to stare, stuck in the moment as if waiting to be brought back to life. “Well done, love.” She praises. “Hoseokie is going to get you a glass of water okay?” Jimin nods again. “Once you’ve drunk all the water you can go to sleep, alright?” He nods again because that’s all he can bring himself to do. There’s a glass of water being offered out to him as well as two pills that make a shiver run down his spine. He doesn’t like the look of those pills, they’re a little too big and there’s still an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I need you to swallow them for me.” His mother explains and she’s back to gently running her fingers through his hair. Jimin really doesn’t want to. “The quicker you do it, the quicker you can sleep, Chick.” She explains. Jimin isn’t sure why she thinks Jimin wants to sleep, or why she’s so adamant that him sleeping is a good idea. But he can’t find the energy to fight her on this. It feels like there’s a loose connection between his brain and his mouth, something that should alarm him but oddly it doesn’t. His hands are shaking as he takes the pills. He doesn’t understand why they’re riddled with energy when mentally Jimin can’t find the capacity to even speak. He pauses momentarily once they’re between his fingers. He’s scared that if he brings the pills too his mouth, his hands will shake too much and he’ll drop them. Right now, they’re half resting on the hand that had once been holding the pills and its keeping Jimin steady. “Good.” His mother praises. Her hands have left his face and are now wrapped tightly around his own hand. They have the same hands, his mother and him, small and chubby. But where Jimin’s nails are long his mother’s are bitten down almost to the beds in worry. She helps him place the pills in his mouth and then also helps him drink down the water. He finds that the pills go down easily, that lump that had been blocking his throat no longer there as he greedily drinks his fill. His mother doesn't even have to encourage him to drink the whole glass, Jimin is incredibly thirsty and he’s a little disappointed once he’s emptied the whole thing. He smacks his lips appreciatively and he’s only now aware that they had been incredibly dry, his mouth too. “Well done.” His mother whispers before she’s pulling him back into another hug. “You can go to sleep now.” Jimin wants to say something. Now that he’s dislodged the lump in his throat and his mouth is no longer dry, he’s sure he can form the words he wants to say. “Where’s Yoongi?” He asks, at least he thinks he does. It really doesn’t sound like him at all. The voice is gravelly like it hasn’t been used in years, like it needs a cough to clear it. But he doesn’t care how he sounds. “Where is Yoongi?” He repeats once more when no one bothers to reply to him. He remembers being half carried half dragged into a car earlier and speedily pulled away from the

busy streets of Seoul. Being brought into his own apartment without Jimin even unlocking the front door. He’s been sat on the couch with his mother ever since. They’ve been keeping him from Yoongi and right now, Jimin isn’t sure whether he’s happy or terrified by this. He wants to see Yoongi. He needs to see him. His mother is hushing him gently, petting through his hair again. “He’s okay.” She explains. Jimin nods. “He’s okay.” He repeats in that same gravelly voice. He doesn’t believe her. Whenever he closes his eyes all he can see is his husband covered in blood. But he needs something, anything to hang on to that will keep him from completely shutting down. So he clings to the lies like a lifeline, pushing every last ounce of energy he can find into hoping that they’re true. “That’s right.” His mother soothes. “Close your eyes now Chick, it’ll all be better in the morning.” Jimin is certain he isn’t tired. He can’t be tired; he hasn't seen Yoongi yet. He doesn’t want the memory of his husband covered in blood to be the last thing he sees before he sleeps. He wants to fight back, to push his way into their bedroom and crawl himself up besides Yoongi. He wants to cry, to kick to scream to do anything. Even a panic attack would be better than this emptiness he’s feeling. He feels so lost, so confused and so hollow. He’s broken, running purely on autopilot to keep up some form of pretenses whilst his insides shatter into a million pieces. He’s missing a part of himself, he watched that other half of him bleed out in a dingy side street in Seoul and he needs to be with Yoongi. “I wanna see Yoongi.” Jimin tries to demand, but he thinks his words come out slurred. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his mouth’s touch in his hair is distant. He tries to speak again, but nothing comes out of his wobbling mouth. There’s something heavy pulling at his eyes, and his mother’s voice sounds like it’s coming from so far away. “What’s wrong with him?” “He’s in shock.”

____________ There’s something itching at the bridge of his nose and it’s making Jimin want to sneeze and shiver at the same time. He wriggles at the uncomfortable feeling, pulling his head away from it so that he can continue sleeping peacefully. But the itching at his nose is far more persistent than Jimin wants it to be, as it follows wherever Jimin’s head turns to. Blearily he blinks his eyes awake, he feels groggy and considerably more tired now than he was when he went to sleep. Everything feels heavy, his brain is clouded and there’s a horrible weight on his chest that just doesn’t want to budge. “Hey sleepy head.” A deep voice whispers in the darkness of the room and Jimin finds his eyes snapping towards the source of the sound. Maybe he’s still dreaming, or maybe he’s just hallucinating, he’s really not sure. But there, squatting by the side of the couch next to him is Kim Taehyung. He’s smiling at Jimin, lips pulled into a boxy grin and finger still stroking the bridge of Jimin’s nose.

Jimin scrunches up his face at the ticklish feeling and Taehyung laughs. It’s soft and quiet, but from his deep baritone it still echoes around the room. Jimin is just staring at his best friend, eyes as wide as the moon and Taehyung is just staring back. Kim Taehyung, his best friend who’s supposed to be in Japan right now dazzling the modeling world with his stellar good looks, is in his living room. Kim Taehyung, who’s been far too busy over the last 6 moths to spare him more than a few texts here and there, has flown all the way here to see him. Kim Taehyung, who Jimin is so used to seeing slumped around in baggy hand cut clothes is currently sporting grey hair that’s flopping in his face, green contacts and flawless skin. Kim Taehyung is right in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity and Jimin can feel tears prickling at his eyes. “What’s wrong, sweet Jiminie?” He asks softly, hand pushing pink locks away from Jimin’s face. Jimin’s throat feels like it’s been coated in sandpaper as he swallows. That weight on his chest seams to be getting heavier and it’s almost too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, blinking slowly to stop himself from bursting into ugly tears. Then he licks his dry lips and shakily says; “He was shot.” Taehyung hums folding his arms on the edge of the couch and resting his head on top of them. “But he’s okay.” Jimin winces. “He was shot in the shoulder.” He repeats almost like his own brain is trying to come to terms with it. “And he’s okay.” Taehyung reiterates. “Hobi-hyung said he’s resting of whatever the hell the doc did to clean him up. And he’ll be awake and shouting orders again in no time.” Jimin shakes his head. “He was shot.” “And he’s alive.” Taehyung argues using the same tone Jimin used against him. “I’m more worried about you.” Jimin’s eyes go impossibly wide, a disbelieving little scoff leaving his chapped lips. “Why are you worried about me? I’m fine, I wasn’t shot.” He snaps venomously. Taehyung doesn’t even flinch at the harshness of his best friend’s words. “No, but I can clearly see that you’re not taking this very well. Plus Hobi-hyung was throwing the word ‘shock’ around like nobodies business over the phone.” “My husband was shot, Tae.” Jimin repeats and he can taste the acid from his own words. “He’s been shot multiple times before.” Taehyung explains. “I don’t see you getting all upset over those times.” Jimin wants to push Taehyung off a bridge. “This is different.” He mumbles. “Why, because you were there?” Taehyung asks and his tone is far too indifferent for Jimin’s liking. “Yes, because I was there.” Jimin barks into the silence of the room. “I saw the blood and I saw the look of pain on my husband’s face. Yet I couldn’t do anything but stand there like a fucking idiot and watch him bleed.”

The words echo around the room back at him once they’ve been said. They’re ringing in his ears and rolling around in his brain and it makes that ever-present weight on his chest double in size. “Because there’s nothing you could have do about that, Chim.” Taehyung explains. “Yoongi-hyung got shot and there was nothing you could’ve done. I’m pretty sure he’ll probably be shot at again in the future and there will be nothing you can do about it then too.” “How is this helping?” Jimin grits through his teeth. There’s guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach now and Jimin is certain his best friend is supposed to make him feel better not worse. Taehyung chuckles. “Because you’re not seeing what you can do, Chim Chim.” “Didn’t you just tell me there’s nothing I can do?” Jimin snipes. Taehyung smirks. “In regards to Yoongi-hyung getting shot, yes. Absolutely nothing you could have done.” “Tae.” “Chim. Just listen.” He pushes a finger against Jimin’s lips and waits a few seconds for the boy to listen. “You are the husband of the biggest mafia boss in South Korea, do you know what that makes you?” Jimin shrugs. “Fucking important, that’s what. And no important person wallows around on the couch, dwelling on shit they had no control over, when they should be the one making sure stuff gets done.” “I don't- “ Jimin begins, but Taehyung is hushing him again. “Yoongi needs you now. He needs you to make sure that his seconds in command are making the right choices. He needs you to watch over him, and his company, and everyone he cares about.” Jimin pulls a shaky break through his lips. “I-I’m not a gangster, Tae.” Taehyung is nodding heavily in agreement. “And I’m not asking you to suddenly step up and be one.” He explains reaching out a hand to lace with Jimin’s. “But everyone Yoongi cares about is also everyone you care about too. And though some of us would never admit it, we look to Yoongi as a pillar in our lives, as someone to lean on and someone we can go to for help.” He squeezes Jimin’s hand so tightly it brings pins and needles to his skin. “And right now, he’s out of action and people are a little lost over it. But that’s okay, because he has you. He needs you to be what he cannot be right now. And do you know why?” Jimin shakes his head and Taehyung cracks into a brilliant boxy smile. “Because as you once told me, you and Yoongi-hyung are a team, Chim.” Jimin is so still as he lets Taehyung’s words sinking. He can feel himself shaking and all of a sudden it’s harder to breath. Taehyung’s right, he’s so undoubtedly right. Taehyung doesn’t say anything more whilst Jimin cries. He just slips his long gangling body on the sofa with him, throwing a leg over Jimin’s waist and wrapping his arms around his torso. Jimin is struggling to pull breaths into his constricting lungs, fingers clawing at Taehyung’s shirt as he’d finally flooded with all the emotions he had been pushing away. Taehyung is gently soothing him. “Breathe, Chim. It’s okay, I got you, we’ve all got you.” He repeats. “Just Breathe.” And Jimin tries his hardest to push past his tears and pull long steadying breaths into his lungs. He fights against the panic attack that’s been bubbling on his surface for hours now, grounds himself in the fact Taehyung is here, his mother is here, Hoseok and Namjoon are here

and they’re all worried. Worried about Yoongi, worried about him and worried about what’s going to happen. They lie like that a while, Taehyung silently squeezing his best friend for all the tears he’s worth and Jimin just wallowing in his sadness for a little bit more. His breathing is steady, sharp and full of hiccups, but it’s the fastest he’s calmed down from a panic attack before. Taehyung’s words ringing loudly in his ears; him and Yoongi are a team, and he needs to be strong now, for both their sakes. “I’m sorry.” Jimin finally mumbles. Taehyung, who had been nuzzling his head into Jimin’s chest, stretches his neck up to look at him with a brilliant smile on his face. “There’s no need to appologise, you’re allowed to be sad over your husband being hurt.” Jimin flinches and Taehyung wraps his arms around him tighter. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Japan?” Jimin asks through a rough gravely voice. “People are extremely lenient when you explain that there’s been a family emergency.” Taehyung elaborates. “You didn’t have to come.” Taehyung sighs, flicking his hair out of his own face. “To be completely honest with you Chim, I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen.” Jimin looks horrified and Taehyung just rolls his eyes. “C’mon Jiminie, you’ve had a good 4 year run where nothing bad has happened to Yoongi. But the guy still works in a violently fucked up world.” Taehyung shuffles himself further up the couch so that they’re eye level. “I could see this happening the moment you told me what Yoongi does. And no matter how much Yoongi promises to protect you and keep you from things, it don’t mean shit if something’s happened to him. So when I got the call from Hobi-hyung, I just knew how much it would be tearing you up. So I hoped on the first flight home without a moments hesitation.” He beams at Jimin and its so bright Jimin wants to squint. “I had to help my sweet Jiminie out, that’s what family does, after all.” Jimin’s smile is small but so full of love. “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “On a daily basis. You’re my number one hype man.” Jimin giggles, pulling his hand up to wipe away at any tear marks left on his cheeks. “Thanks, Tae Tae.” Taehyung plants a wet kiss on his cheek that makes Jimin groan. “Always.” He smirks whilst Jimin batters his face away. “Your breath stinks.” Jimin complains. Taehyung snickers. “A sacrifice was made in my hasty trip here.” “There’s always time to brush your teeth.” “Not when my precious Jiminie is in peril.” “Why are you so adamant that I’m some kind of damsel in distress?” Taehyung flicks Jimin’s forehead and Jimin retaliates by pinching him in the arm. The mini fight

erupts into something somewhat anticlimactic, with the two of them gently slapping each other’s arms a few times before giving up. Jimin feels sleepy again, his eyelids pulling heavily over his eyes as he tries to keep them open. “What the fuck did that doctor give me?” “Sleeping pills.” Taehyung answers. “Or maybe horse tranquilizers? Hobi-hyung did say, but I can’t remember.” Taehyung teases. Jimin smirks, too tired to fully laugh. “Will you be here when I wake up?” Taehyung wraps his arms around Jimin once more, squeezing him tightly. “Not this time, Jiminie. But that’s okay, because I know you got this.” “I don’t know whether I agree with you.” Jimin mumbles, he’s lost the battle in keeping his eyes open and he lets out a little sigh. “That’s alright, it’ll all be better in the morning.” ____________ When Jimin wakes up again it’s not to an annoying tickle at the bridge of his nose but to the sun stinging through his eyelids and an empty space beside him. He’s half wondering if he didn’t just imagine Taehyung being here, those sleeping pills really did a number on him after all. But the couch is still warm where his best friend had been and he can faintly smell expensive Gucci and strawberry shampoo. He takes a deep breath and stretches out all the muscles in his body, groaning before he goes limp on the couch again. He chances a glance at the living room clock; 7:20am. Guess it’s good a time as any to start the day. He decides a good shower is in order first, he feels like his clothes and his skin are still crawling with last night’s nightmare. But it’s nothing scolding hot water can’t fix. He swings his legs of the couch, blanket falling from his shoulders as his bare feet touch the freezing cold floor. He shivers from the icy touch and pushes through the cold as he makes his way over to the main bedroom. His heart is hammering like humming bird in his chest and his palms feel clammy as they close around the doorknob to their bedroom. He takes a deep breath, he’s not sure what kind of state he’s going to see his husband in, but he’s positive it’s going to be better than the one he was in last night. Steeling his nerves he slowly and quietly pushes open the door. The room is dark, the curtains drawn for the first time since Jimin has moved in and there’s a chill in the air that’s far too still. He gingerly makes his way closer to the bed; eyes glued to the sight of his husband sprawled out in the middle of their bed. He’s hooked up to a makeshift IV stand that’s stood by Jimin’s side of the bed, the tube is pierced into the back of his hand and is slowly dripping the last remains of the medicine into his veins. He’s shirtless, milky skin looking far paler than usual and there’s a white bandage pulled tight and secure over his left shoulder. Jimin can’t see blood anymore, but he can smell antiseptic and iodine hanging thickly in the air and he’s not sure whether he’d be able to stomach the sight under the bandage. He sits down softly on the edge of the bed, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. Aside from the bandages and the drip, Yoongi looks pretty peaceful as he sleeps. There’s a small sweat breaking out on his forehead, the skin around his eyes look a little dark too but his body

looks relaxed and somewhat serene. There’s a small towel in a bowl of water sitting on Jimin’s nightstand and Jimin gently rings it out to swipe across his lover’s forehead. “Hey, Yoonie.” Jimin whispers quietly in the still silence of the room. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come and check on you.” He drags the towel slowly across his forehead, dark hair plastering against the wet skin. “But you’re okay.” He places the towel back in the bowl and then pushes Yoongi’s raven locks away from his face. He places a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering there just a little longer than Jimin supposes is necessary, but the comfort of being so close to Yoongi is just too hard for Jimin to break away from. He can’t smell the earthy sandalwood and rich scotch scent that usually clings to his husband. The powerful sting of ‘hospital’ lingers in the air and it makes Jimin feel uncomfortable. He sighs, pulling away from the horrible smell of disinfectant and steels his face. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He promises. In an attempt to pull himself away from Yoongi, Jimin bribes himself with the prospect of smothering himself in Yoongi’s clothes for the day. He picks out a pair of his dark grey sweats and a large black turtle neck jumper. Usually Jimin is dressed as presentably as possible when they have company over. But today he really doesn’t give a shit. An exception can be made every now and then, and this is his home after all. He chances one final, lingering stare Yoongi’s way before he’s running towards the bathroom, forcing himself not to look back for fear of cracking. The rest of the apartment is equally as eerily still as the main bedroom, but not nearly as quiet. He can hear loud snores that can only be Namjoon’s coming from one of the spare rooms, and he can hear tinkling music from his mother’s room – the woman can’t sleep in silence. He showers quickly, the hot water doing just the trick of washing off all the bad memories of the night before. He feels like he’s peeled off a layer of skin, emerging form the shower a whole new confident person. He dresses not really bothering to look in the mirror. There are more important things at hand than the state of Jimin’s attire. Yoongi’s clothes are drowning him, but to Jimin it just feels like his husband is hugging him. He can feel Yoongi all around him; encompassed by warm sandalwood that’s uninfected by the horrible hospital smell that lingers in their bedroom. Yoongi has always liked his clothes baggy, so Jimin has to tie the waistband of the sweats ridiculously tightly and the sleeves of the turtleneck fall way past his fingertips. But he doesn’t care. He’s managed to get up, shower and change without crying and he mentally pats himself on the back. It’s the little challenges after all. Hoseok is waiting for him at the breakfast bar when he comes back out. He’s wearing the black slacks and white shirt he had on the night before. His chestnut hair is pushed back by one of Yoongi’s black and white headbands and there are serious bags under his eyes. Said eyes are on Jimin like a hawk, narrowed and worrying. His hands placed in front of him on the breakfast bar, still and clenched tightly together as if ready to pounce and pick up the pieces of a crumbling Jimin. Jimin smiles, it’s still a little small but it’s genuine and really that’s all that matters. “Good morning.” He greets and he’s surprised to hear that his voice is stronger than he was anticipating. Hoseok looks equally as surprised, eyebrows twitching upwards. “Good morning.” He greets. “You look. Well rested.” He comments carefully. Jimin nods. “I am.” He explains before flittering his way into the kitchen. “Someone gave me sleeping pills last night and I was out like a light.”

He doesn’t miss the little flinch on Hoseok’s face; clearly he’s feeling guilty about that. But Hoseok doesn’t say anything, eyes continuously following Jimin as he dances his way through the kitchen. “I’m thinking eggs and kimchi fried rice.” Jimin explains as his hand reaches for the cupboard holding the pots. “I hear breakfast is important.” Hoseok doesn’t make a remark at Jimin’s attempt at a joke and the silence from his hyung lingers in the air. Jimin tries to push past it, deciding to focus on one thing at a time as a steady way to get him through the day. But upon opening the pots and pans cupboard, he finds that it’s filled with plates instead. He furrows his eyebrows, closes the cupboard, takes a minuet to compose himself and then opens the cupboard again. But there’s no mistaking it, there are still plates inside rather than the frying pan he’s looking for. “Yeah, you’re not going insane, I couldn’t find the mugs thus why I have no coffee in my hands.” Hoseok explains a little bitterly. Jimin cocks his head to the side as he closes the cupboard. “Weird.” He mutters before walking over to the cupboard where they keep the mugs. But upon opening it, it’s filled with baking trays and mixing bowls instead. “So, how is Tae doing?” Hoseok asks. Jimin spins on his heels to face his hyung. “What?” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Clearly, this is the work of one very bored Kim Taehyung.” He explains gesturing to kitchen. “Could he not stick around?” Jimin smiles softly. “He’s a busy big time model now. He doesn’t have time for us plebeians.” Jimin squats down to open one of the cupboards under the breakfast bar, the one they usually keep their plates. And low and behold, there are the pots and pans stack haphazardly. He stands up again, triumphantly holding the frying pan he was looking for earlier and Hoseok gapes at him. “How’d you find that?” Jimin shrugs. “4 years of living with Kim Taehyung, my friend.” He winks. “He would do the same thing during finals week when I got too stressed to accept any form of distraction.” “So he’d switch things around in the kitchen?” Hoseok asks uncertainly. Jimin nods. “I was the only one that cooked, putting everything back into their rightful places helped clear my head so I could go back to studying without wanting to rip my hair out.” “Still doesn’t explain how you knew the pan was in that cupboard.” Hoseok adds. “This is Taehyung we're talking about. Boy’s limited concentration means he only swaps the contents of two cupboards at a time.” Jimin elaborates. “So seeing as the baking stuff is in the mug cupboard. The mugs will be in the baking cupboard.” Jimin finishes, thumb pointing towards the baking cupboard above the oven. Hoseok cheers, jumping to his feet. “And the coffee?” He asks whilst digging out two mugs. Jimin sets about placing the pan on the stove and going to pull ingredients from the fridge. “What was in the coffee cupboard?” “The rice.”

Jimin chuckles, placing eggs and kimchi next to the stove before squatting down to pull the coffee out of the cupboard where the rice should be. He pushes it towards Hoseok with a smile and Hoseok groans happily. “Yes, sustenance.” He practically wails. Soon the smell of coffee and eggs fills the apartment. Jimin has half a mind to open their bedroom door just a slither, so that the heavenly scent can chase away the hospital smell that’s wrapped around his husband. Maybe Yoongi will wake up from a hungry stomach? Jimin sighs, that’s beyond wishful thinking, even when Yoongi is fit and healthy, the man barely wakes up before 11am if he can help it. However, the smell seams to be enough to rouse Namjoon from his sleep. Jimin winces at the sound of something clattering and smashing to the floor from the hallway. He’s pretty certain it’s one of the many picture frames they have up, and Jimin is praying it’s not one of their wedding shots. The oaf of a man sheepishly makes his way into the room, hands cradling a small black picture frame. The wood of the frame has split at one of the corners and there’s a large crack across the glass panel. “Sorry?” He appologises meekly, placing the thing on the counter next to the carafe of coffee Hoseok had made. Jimin sighs, rounding the counter to get a better look at the damage. It’s a small picture, clearly not one of their wedding shots, so swings and roundabouts Jimin supposes. “It’s a picture from one of those charity balls we always get dragged to.” Jimin explains. “It’s the one from last Christmas, Yoongi bought the picture because he liked my hair colour so much.” It’s a group shot, of Yoongi and himself surrounded by Yoongi’s family. They’re all dressed formally, black suit and ties amongst rich dark cocktail dresses. Yoongi looks so much like his mother in this shot. The two of them small, with cat like eyes and faces pulled into thin bored smiles. Jimin only really remembers Yoongi’s parents, the other ‘family members’ were vaguely introduced to him, but Yoongi had muttered something along the lines of them being ‘mafia family’ rather than ‘blood family’. Hoseok chokes out a laugh as he leans across the counter to get a better look at the picture. “Lets be real, hyung bought it because you look like you’ve rebelled against his parents regime.” Namjoon snorts at the comment and Jimin grins. Hoseok is right, Yoongi had laughed gleefully and wickedly at the photo when he had first seen it. As amongst the strict traditional Min’s with their black hair and sober looking faces, there stood Jimin with his bright orange hair and sunny eye smiles. “Something smells good.” Namjoon interjects sniffing the air like a dog. “Mochi made breakfast.” Hoseok explains pushing a plate Namjoon’s way. Namjoon shoots Jimin a worried look, one he had seen on Hoseok’s face not too long ago. “You, did?” He asks gingerly. Jimin nods. “So eat up before it gets cold.” Namjoon hums, eyes still lingering on Jimin. But Jimin ignores it in favour of returning to wash the pan in the sink. They have a perfectly good dishwasher he could use, but keeping his hands busy is making him feel a little more useful. There’s a tight silence that falls about the kitchen while his hyungs eat and Jimin cleans. There’s a lot he wants to ask them, but he’s waiting for them to be a

little more alert before he does. “How are you feeling this morning, Mochi?” Namjoon asks between mouthfuls of food. Jimin hums. “I’m fine.” He supplies. “Taehyung was here.” Hoseok elaborates. Namjoon chuckles. “That would explain why my glasses have band aids on them.” Hoseok wines like a neglected child. “He didn’t do anything to me.” “It’s only 9am.” Namjoon chides. “Day’s still young.” Jimin shuts the water off and spins on his heels to look at his hyungs. Their smiles fall of their faces at the sudden movement and Jimin lets a long sigh past his lips. “Okay, so what happened?” He asks. “Mochi.” Hoseok warns. Jimin shakes his head while raising a hand to silence him. “What happened?” “The guy took Jisu thinking it was you.” Namjoon clarifies briefly. “Someone had passed information onto him that you’d recently died your hair pink. The guy’s a bit of a novice so he grabbed the first pink head he saw and ran.” Jimin feels his face pale. “But, I had literally died my hair hours before Eomma was snatched.” Hoseok looks grave. “We know.” Jimin shivers. “That beanie was a bad choice.” He comments dryly. “That beanie helped you out.” Namjoon clarifies. Jimin shoots him a grim look. “I'd rather it were me over my mother any day.” He clarifies. He’d rather it have been no one, but Jimin is nothing but self-sacrificing when it comes to the people he loves. “Where’s the guy now?” Namjoon and Hoseok share a dark look between them, messages passed through it that Jimin knows he doesn't want to be a part of. Jimin gulps down the lump in his throat. “Don’t answer that question.” “Really, we need hyung to tell us what’s to be done with him.” Hoseok explains. “Stuff regarding family is only to be dealt with by family and we promised we wouldn’t get involved.” “Well, what’s Daejung said about it all?” Jimin asks. A worrying shiver runs down Jimin’s back when his question is answered by a thick and guilt ridden silence. He can understand his hyung’s reluctance to call Yoongi’s parents; they’re hard to deal with on the best of days. But when it comes to a member of the family being hurt? Well shit, Jimin can just imagine the ground shaking as the Min’s unleash hell. But it won’t make the matters any better if they’ve waited this long to tell them. It’d be like they’ve gone above and beyond in just kicking the hornet’s nest and resorted to full on shaking it. He places his hands on his hips and tilts his head disappointingly at his hyungs. This is what Taehyung meant when he said Jimin had to be the one to make sure people aren’t making bad

decisions. “You did call Yoongi’s parents, didn’t you?” He asks. His Hyung’s are looking anywhere than at Jimin’s face and the silence is still ringing clear around the room. No, the cowards did not call Yoongi’s parents. Jimin takes a deep, calming breath. “So, you’re telling me. That Yoongi has been laid up with a bullet wound in his shoulder for longer than 12 hours and neither of you have informed the Min’s?” Hoseok gulps. “We thought it wasn’t that big of a deal. Hyung’s gonna be fine and…” “You might wanna try working on a better excuse, hyung.” Jimin warns. “Because it’s not working on me, so it’s not even gonna dent Min Yerin.” “Fuck.” Namjoon breathes flopping his head onto the counter. “Call them, call them now.” Jimin demands. Hoseok shivers. “Why can’t you do it?” “Because apparently, I’m suffering from shock.” Jimin answers a little spitefully and Hoseok looks even guiltier than before. “Alright fine.” Namjoon groans into the marble countertop. “I’ll call them.” Jimin nods. “What time is the doctor coming back?” “He didn’t really give a time…” Hoseok begins. Jimin glances at the clock in the living room. “Taking into account the given fact that the Min’s will be on the road whilst still chewing Namjoonie-hyung out on the phone – “ Namjoon lets out a pathetic whimper and Jimin ignores it. “They’ll probably get here around 1pm. So lets make sure the doctor is already here fussing around their precious son, yeah?” Hoseok agrees easily. “Less for them to nit pick about.” “So we’re only offering my ass up on the chopping block?” Namjoon complains. Hoseok shrugs, little sympathy for the man evident on his mischievously grinning face. “You’re the number two.” Namjoon smushes his cheek into the marble to glare at Hoseok. “We’re both the number two.” Hoseok winks devilishly. “Only when it suits me.” “I don’t think we have any scotch in.” Jimin realises. “Yoongi drank more than usual the other night.” “That’s a given.” Hoseok notes. “It’s the best way of dealing with a Jisu Whirlwind.” Jimin’s face pales. “Fuck, my mother.” “She’s still sleeping.” Namjoon explains softly. “She stayed up pretty late last night watching over you.” “Practically forced her into bed in the end, didn’t you Joon-ah?” Hoseok teases.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and pulls his head up off the breakfast bar. “All innuendos aside, it’ll probably be a good idea for her to be out the house whilst business is being conducted.” “If she hasn’t already figured out that Hyung’s line of work is more than a little questionable, then your mother is denser than a bag of bricks.” Hoseok scoffs. “I’m gonna go with she’s denser than a bag of bricks.” Namjoon bets. “She was telling me something about how it’s always the ones related to the rich people that get kidnapped, rather than the rich people themselves.” Hoseok snickers. “She thinks it's a kidnapping for money from the Min Group?” “Pretty much.” Namjoon winks. Jimin nods remorsefully. He’s never wanted to talk to his mother about this more in his life. Because even though she’d probably freak out, she’d know exactly what to say to help Jimin stay strong. And right now, he’ll take anything he can get. But he doesn’t want to drag her into a mess that Jimin wiling put himself in. It’s not fair to her; she’s been through enough as it is. Jimin rests his elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand. “She never did get to go to that bookshop.” “I’m sorry I can’t take her.” Namjoon appologise, his words so gentle even though Namjoon has nothing to be sorry about. Jimin shakes his head. “It’s fine, she can still go today.” “Mochi, I don’t like the idea of you being out of my sight.” Hoseok chimes in, all teasing pushed aside. “And I can’t leave whilst things still need to be sorted.” “Neither of us can.” Namjoon adds. “I know.” Jimin replies. “I’m not leaving either.” “Do you think that's a…” Namjoon begins, but Jimin shoots him a look that clearly says ‘cut the bullshit.’ “Okay, sure, fine, I can have one of my men escort her round.” “No, poor woman’s been put through enough mafia shit. I’ll message Jin-hyung.” Jimin rationalizes. Namjoon lets a little high-pitched meep out his mouth that startles both Jimin and Hoseok. “What the fuck was that?” Hoseok chuckles. Jimin furrows his brows, choosing to press on. “I still want your guy to follow them around and keep them safe. It’s just that my mother’s been through enough over the past coupe hours. She needs a friendly soothing face rather than a scary looking stranger. Jin-hyung will be more than happy to…” Jimin’s trail of thought is interrupted by a sound than can only be described as a dying moose. He pins a worrying look at his lavender haired hyung, who looks as white as a sheet. Hoseok is hiding full-blown chuckles behind his hand. “Really smooth, Joonie.” He mocks. “What’s so funny?” Jimin asks, clearly not in the loop. Namjoon schools his horrified expression. “Noting, nothing’s funny.” He elbows Hoseok painfully in the ribs and the man doubles over in pain. “Jin-hyung is coming here and that’s great, that’s fine. I’m more than okay with that, it’s a brilliant idea, fantastic even.”

Jimin just blinks at his hyung as he babbles through meaningless words. “Right. Well, you’re clearly not okay with this.” Jimin points out. “You wanna talk about it?” “Fuck no.” Namjoon snaps standing to his feet. “I’m fine.” His voice squeaks and he coughs heartily to clear it. “I’m fine.” He repeats in his normal baritone and Hoseok is laughing again. “I’ll go call the Min’s.” And with that he’s scuttling down the corridor back to the guest room with Hosoek’s laughter following behind him. “Nothing fine there at all.” Jimin mutters. Hoseok shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it Mochi, I’ll tell you about it later.” He stands to his feet with one last chuckle. “Just message Jin-hyung and I’ll deal with Captain Clumsy.” He winks before tottering after Namjoon. Texting Seokjin turns out to be easier said than done, however, as it takes Jimin a good 20 minuets to locate his phone. He can hear Namjoon’s pleas of forgiveness echoing down the corridor from his call to the Min’s. By the way Namjoon is groveling, Jimin’s pretty certain he’s talking to Yerin. Which in his personal opinion; is the worst of the two to tell first. Eventually he locates his phone. It’s wedged down the back of the couch where it must have fallen out of his pocket while he was sleeping. There’s little battery left, so he sets about messaging his hyung quick before it dies. Jiminie 09:35am Hyung, something kind of happened. And I really need your help. Jin-hyung 09:36am Min Jimin. You can’t just elusively tell me that ‘something has happened’ And then ask for my help without me worrying my tits off. I’m currently suffering from a heart attack you dick. Jiminie 09:37am Sorry. It’s not really something I can cover over messages. Jin-hyung 09:37am OH COS THAT MAKES IT ALL THE BETTER FFS OKAY Run me through the important parts. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is your mother okay? Is she hurt? Jiminie 09:38am Physically, we’re both fine. But it’s not us, It’s Yoongi. Jin-hyung 09:40am I’ll be there in 15minuets. Jiminie 09:41am

Bring scotch. Jin-hyung 09:42am Bitch I’m bringing a whole fucking bar.

____________ True to his word, Seokjin is knocking noisily at the front door 15 minuets later, face flushed as he carries five bags full of food. All of which is dropped to the floor the second Jimin opens the door. Jimin hasn’t even gotten out a greeting before he’s engulfed in a hug that could crush bones. “Hyung, I can’t breathe.” Jimin chuckles meekly through the tight hug. Seokjin sighs. “Humor your hyung for just a little longer.” He answers, tightening his grip around Jimin impossibly more. Eventually Seokjin pulls back, hands resting on Jimin’s shoulders as he runs a knowing eye over him. “You look,” He pauses, deliberating words on his tongue. “Well rested?” It’s more than can be said about his hyung though. It’s clear that Jimin must have interrupted him in the middle of a case if the dark bags under his eyes are anything to go by. He’s tried to hide them with concealer, but Jimin can still see them plain as day and his jet black hair is a little more disheveled than usual. He lets go of Jimin to start gathering the bags back into his arms and Jimin can see that one of them is stuffed to the brim with manila files and notebooks. Jimin hasn’t heard much about the type of case his hyung is currently working on, but Seokjin is the type that tries to separate work life from his private life. Mainly because Seokjin is a big time lawyer and one of his closest friends is married to the biggest Mafia boss in South Korea. Of which can be ingredients for an utter shit storm if both parties don’t play their cards right. Jimin scoffs out a laugh. “I’ve been hearing that a lot this morning.” He explains reaching down to help Seokjin with the bags. “Hoseok drugged me last night.” Seokjin promptly drops the bag of vegetables he had just picked up. “He fucking did what?” He seethes. Jimin giggles. “Technically, the doctor gave me some sleeping pills. But Hoseok was the one who handed them too me, and I’ve been having fun watching him feel guilty about it all morning.” Seokjin places a hand to his chest and lets out a long sigh. “Let’s be a little more gentle to hyung, one heart attack is enough for the day.” “You brought enough food to feed an army, I see.” Jimin observes as the two lug the bags into the kitchen. Seokjin is beaming proudly. “Of course, who knows when you’d have time to grocery shop.” “I like the fact the first thing you think of in an emergency is food.” Jimin giggles dumping the bags on the kitchen counter. Seokjin cuts him a disapproving look. “People still need to eat in emergencies, Jiminie.” He provides as he starts to unpack the bags. “Watch people get hangry to all hell when there’s no food about. Then see how well people do in emergencies.”

Jimin shakes his head. “I can’t believe you just used the word hangry.” Seokjin responds by pulling two large bottles of scotch and resting them on the counter. “There’s your scotch.” He explains before pulling out another bottle of clear liquid. “And vodka for people with taste buds.” Jimin just gapes at the bottles. “This isn’t a part, hyung.” Seokjin ignores Jimin’s words and spins on his heels to open one of the cupboards near the sink. It’s the cupboard they usually keep their alcohol supply, but upon opening it, Seokjin is left staring blankly at the packets of ramen, pasta and noodles that litter the insides. He promptly closes it again and asks; “Has my brother been here, per chance?” All while glaring at the cupboard that’s been messed with by Taehyung. “How can you tell?” Jimin taunts. Seokjin huffs. “So he comes back to see you, but can’t spare five minuets for me? I practically raised him on my back!” He turns abruptly, leaving the alcohol in favour of grabbing food that goes in the fridge. Clearly not in the mindset to deal with his younger brother’s crazy antics. “I’m sorry, was your husband just shot?” Jimin ridicules. For the second time that day, Seokjin drops food on the floor and Jimin winces at the sound. “He’s been shot?” The end of the sentence goes up two octaves and the alarm in his pitch causes the two gangsters hiding in the room down the hall to come running out. “Who’s been shot?” Hoseok practically screeches, gun in hand. Namjoon is still halfway down the hall, Jimin can hear him cursing and assumes he’s gotten tangled in something. Seokjin’s blanches. “Yoongi!” He squawks. “He has?” Hoseok exclaims looking like he’s ready to fight of a pack of rabid dogs. He’s jumping on the balls of his feet and Jimin runs an exasperated hand down his face. “Wait.” Hoseok pauses, energy seeping from his body. “I knew that.” He turns to shoot Seokjin a confused expression. “That’s old news.” “I just got here Jung Hoseok, so it’s fresh news to me.” Seokjin fumes and Hoseok actually looks a little sheepish. “Who’s been shot?” Namjoon bellows bundling into the room only to freeze mid step when his eyes land on Seokjin. As soon as their eyes lock, it feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Namjoon pales, Seokjin’s jaw drops in mortification and the two just continue to stare at each other like they’re characters in a drama or something. They’re still, ridiculously still and neither of them seams to be blinking. “Yoongi’s been shot.” Hoseok grumbles, clearly not noticing the sudden tense atmosphere of the room. “But we already knew that.” He adds holstering his gun. Jimin’s eyes are glued to the frozen forms of his two hyungs as they do a pretty good job at playing mannequin. He can see Namjoon’s lips moving around unfinished words, trying to say something anything to Jin-hyung rather than just stand there gaping like a fish at him. Jimin tries his hardest not to laugh at the irony that his hyung, who knows just what to say in any situation, is suddenly struck

at a loss of words. “S-Seokjin…” He finally mumbles out. Jimin is torn between wanting to cheer for his hyung at finding something to say, or smack him upside the head for acting like such a dummy. The sound of his name seams to break Seokjin out of his frozen trance. He huffs loudly and irritably before he about turns with his back to Namjoon. Jimin can feel the ice seeping off Seokjin like he’s the very embodiment of cold. His features are no longer surprised; they’re carefully nonchalant with a slight sharp annoyance to them. “I’m going to make japchae for lunch, I’m guessing your mother is still asleep?” He asks Jimin. Namjoon looks like he’s just been stabbed in the stomach and it breaks Jimin’s empathetic heart. “Uh huh.” Jimin replies a little solemnly, practically feeling Namjoon’s hurt from here. He can’t understand why Seokjin is acting this way. Yes his hyung is a little defensive, and terrifying when angered, but he’s all smiles and bad puns most of the time. Either Namjoon’s done something really, really bad, or Seokjin is just being unnecessarily dramatic. Either way, Jimin doesn’t like it. “Then wake her up so I can feed her.” Seokjin orders. He begins pulling more food from the bags and chooses to pile them on the counter instead of find the right cupboard for them to go in. “Seokjin.” Namjoon tries again. His voice is steadier this time, confident even, but there’s a distinct edge of pleading. The chill in the room intensifies as Seokjin busiest himself with the groceries, not even acknowledging Namjoon had spoken with so much as a grunt. “You can fill me in on what exactly happened while your mother’s cleaning up. Are these the only people I’m cooking for? Or should I expect more guests?” He asks instead. His eyes are trained on the food in front of him, but Jimin can tell the questions are directed at him. Jimin’s heart is practically breaking for Namjoon. He looks utterly dejected as he realises that Seokjin isn’t going to give him the time of day. There are no dimples in his cheeks, no charming smile on his lips and his eyes are pleading for Seokjin to turn his way. It’s the most disheveled he’s ever seen the man, and it doesn’t sit happily with Jimin. “Me and Joonie have gotta head out for a bit.” Hoseok interrupts, he’s hovering supportively near Namjoon. Hoseok looks as solemn as Jimin feels, but he’s kind enough to offer a small reassuring smile Namjoon’s way. “Got some things to take care of before the Min’s get here.” Seokjin sighs. He’s doing a really good job at staying focused on the task at hand. “Well at least now I know why you asked for scotch.” His voice rings clear and controlled and Jimin has never wanted to praise his hyung’s acting more in his life. But Jimin has known Seokjin for so long now, that he knows all of his eldest hyung’s mannerisms. And the slight shake in Seokjin’s hands tells Jimin that ignoring Namjoon isn’t as easy a feat as he’s making out to be. Hoseok is already maneuvering a dejected looking Namjoon towards the door and Seokjin flings open the fridge and practically throws himself inside it. Hoseok shoots Jimin a look that’s meant to tell him not to worry – but that’s clearly not going to happen. Jimin is a compulsive worrier, especially about those that he cares about and he has never seen Namjoon look so sad. There’s a long and miserable silence that falls about the room as Namjoon and Hoseok make their exit. Jimin would wait until Namjoon and Hoseok have left, but Jimin needs to understand what all this awkward cold shoulder crap is all about asap. Jimin is shooting daggers at his hyung, but Seokjin is still hiding himself away in the fridge.

But Seokjin can’t hide for long, because as soon as the hallway door shuts, Jimin is on him like flies to honey. “What was that about?’ He snaps. Seokjin refuses to leave the fridge. “What was what about?” “Since when were you so icy.” Jimin jeers. “There was no need to be so harsh to Namjooniehyung.” “You didn't tell me he was going to be here.” Seokjin hisses through his teeth, finally shutting the fridge to look at Jimin. He looks mortified; his cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink and teeth knawing on his lip. Jimin’s eyes go comically wide. “Well of course he’d be here. His best friend and boss got shot yesterday.” “A fact I’m still salty you kept from be, by the way.” Seokjin warns. “We’ll be coming back to that conversation later.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Alright Mom.” “If I had known he was going to be here I would have…” Seokjin grumbles looking a little lost in his own thoughts. Jimin shrugs. “Would have what? Not come?” His voice takes on a little patronizing tone, slipping into teacher mode without realising. “Are you okay with Namjoon being around, Jin-hyung?” Seokjin snaps his eyes at Jimin narrowing them threateningly. “No. It’s fine. Namjoon being here is great. Perfect even.” He explains in a tone that’s not to be questioned. But clearly nothing about this situation is fine, and Jimin has his mouth open ready with a retort but it dies quickly on his tongue as Hoseok bounds back into the room. He looks half pissed and half endeared as he carries his left shoe with him back into the kitchen. He head’s straight for the other end of the breakfast bar and flings open the cupboard that stores the bin. Seokjin and Jimin watch silently as Hoseok goes about his task. He tips his shoe upside down and starts shaking it vigorously. And like the man had just performed a magic trick, streams of lentils fall out from inside the shoe. “He put lentils in my shoes.” Hoseok explains. Seokjin huffs half impressed and half disgusted. “God my brother is weird.”

____________

It takes just as much effort as usual to try and wake Park Jisu up. She’s a heavy sleeper and wines worse than a baby if she’s woken up early. But after continuously shaking her for a solid five minuets straight, she wakes up with a start, eyes wild as they land on Jimin. “Jiminie?” She asks, hand reaching up to cup his face. “What’s the matter baby, everything alright?” She asks worriedly through a sleep thick voice. Jimin smiles. “I’m okay, Eomma. Sorry for worrying you.”

Jisu rubs the sleep from her eyes and pulls herself into a sitting position. “Don’t be sorry about that, Chick. I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry.” The blankets pool around her waist and Jimin can see she’s wearing the same green sundress as yesterday. Seams like no one was in their right minds last night and Jimin feels guilty that he didn’t pull himself together sooner. “Were you scared?” Jimin asks quietly. Jisu nods. “But it’s alright, it’s not my first kidnapping attempt.” This morning is just full of surprises it would seam. “Y-you what?” Jisu winks. “The Park family is pretty influential, remember?” She eludes wiggling her eyebrows comically. “Fuck the Park family.” Jimin grumbles, he never likes talking about his mother’s family. “People who want money fast and without too much hassle, tend to grab someone close to the one with all the money.” She explains. “It’s good leverage, it’s got nothing to do with how the Park’s treated me.” Jimin scoffs. “If I didn’t know any better, it almost sounds like you’re sticking up for the Parks.” Jisu shrugs. “I’m just trying to be comforting.” She elaborates. “I want you to understand that none of this is your fault, okay?” She explains cupping his face so that Jimin looks her in the eye. She would always do this when he was a kid so that Jimin would know she was serious. Jimin nods. “I know.” She smiles gently at him. “I’m very proud of you, Jiminie.” She drops her hand from his face to tangle with Jimin’s to give her son a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve grown up into a wonderful man.” “Well, that’s because I’m like my wonderful mother.” Jimin justifies. Jisu shakes her head. “We’re all just copies of our parents, Chick. We have the ability to be different and I’m so glad that you turned out better than me. Means I did my job right.” “You did an excellent job.” Jimin agrees. Jisu nods. “You’ll get through this, we’ll all be here with you.” She bumps her forehead against his. “That’s what family is for.” “Speaking of family.” Jimin begins gingerly and it’s enough to cause his mother to flinch away from him like she’s just been burnt. “They’re coming?” She hisses, like she’s speaking of demons coming to feast on her flesh rather than her in-laws. Jimin nods. “ETA 1pm.” Jisu snaps her eyes around the room looking for a clock. “What time is it?” “Nearly 11:30?” Jimin hazards a guess, but he hasn’t been keeping a very close eye on the time this morning.

“Fuck!” Jisu bellows flinging herself out of the bed, the blankets smacking Jimin in the face as she goes. She hurls herself across the room, aiming for the en-suit bathroom and gathering random items of clothing as she goes. She’s only been here a few days and Jisu has already turned their guest bedroom into a clothing battleground. All of the items Jisu brought with her are strewn haphazardly about the room, including over the ornaments Yoongi had painstakingly spent bubble wrapping. Jimin huffs, pulling himself to his feet as he begins cleaning away his mother’s stuff so that they can at least see the floor. He knows how nosey Min Yerin gets and she’ll most defiantly be poking her nose into every room to check that things are in tip-top shape. Not that Jimin really gives a crap what his mother-in-law thinks right now. With Yoongi still sleeping off a considerable amount of blood loss and a bullet wound in his shoulder, cleaning is the last thing Jimin cares about. But that wont matter to Min Yerin, the woman has been harping on about them getting a maid ever since they first moved in together. He can just see the pitiful look on Yerin’s face as she spies the messy apartment. Then the next thing he knows, Jimin will be answering the door for a maid he had no idea was called. And all Min Yerin will do is play it off like she’s doing them a favour, because Jimin can’t possibly look after Yoongi and clean the apartment at the same time. Jimin knows she’s just looking out for them. But it’s hard to accept professional help for silly things like cleaning and cooking when Jimin is perfectly capable of doing it himself and saving money in the process too. “Has Tae Tae been here?” his mother calls from the bathroom just as Jimin dumps an armful of clothes into her suitcase. Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “Oh shit, what’s the asshole done to you?” Jisu pokes her head round the door and she’s beaming from ear to ear. “Brought me clothes fresh off the catwalk in Tokyo.” She explains pushing a yellow post-it note towards Jimin. Jimin takes it from her and she slams the bathroom door closed with an excited giggle. “Watch your back, Chick. I might replace you with Taehyung!” She exclaims before Jimin can hear the water going. Jimin smirks down at the post it note, before sticking it on the nightstand by the bed. And God said; Park Jisu you will go to the ball ~ Your Fairy Godmother. Taehyung really is weird.

____________ Seokjin cooks more than just japchae in the three hours before the Min’s arrival. He pushes the chairs to the side of the room in the dinning area, and piles the table up with so many plates Jimin is certain Seokjin thinks this is a party. He even spotlessly cleans the kitchen and the living room, moving everything back to their rightful places in the kitchen cupboards and sends angry messages to his brother for his inconvenience. His mother emerges around 12:30, looking like a down right vision in an A-line black dress and white blazer combo that looks more expensive than all of Jimin’s belongings. Her pink hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, a look she often sported for work and professional things and her legs are slipped into her black tights.

Namjoon and Hoseok return a little before 1, the doctor hot on their heels and sweating more than a sinner in church as he stumbles his way over to the main bedroom. The boys had clearly informed the poor man that the Min’s were coming, and even though he’d been their doctor for years – the Min’s were clearly just more terrifying the better you got to know them. Namjoon spares only one long lingering glance Seokjin’s way. Seokjin in kind, tries more than a little too hard not to return the look and Jimin has half a mind to throw something at his stupid hyungs. Understanding that Namjoon is going to be ignored for the foreseeable future – and Jimin thinks lord only knows why – he promptly schools his features and hovers expectantly near the doorway. Hosoek whistles as he eyes the impressive spread before them. “Are we celebrating the fact someone shot Yoongi?” He teases. Seokjin shoots him a death glare. “I’m sorry, that sounds almost like you’re not hungry Hoseok-ah.” Hoseok chuckles. “Oh no, no. I’m famished hyung.” He covers quickly. “Everything looks great.” “Jimin, do you think you ought to change?” Namjoon offers politely from the doorway. Jimin looks down at his clothes and then back up at everyone in the room and it’s safe to say he’s more than a little under dressed. “What’s wrong with what he’s wearing?” Seokjin snaps. His words are directed at Namjoon, but he doesn't spare the man a glance. Jimin feels like he’s reading the makings of a teenage love novel filled with unbearable angst and pinning. Namjoon looks a little taken back that Seokjin has addressed him, and quickly bucks himself up to not look like an idiot. “Nothing, it’s just. He’s wearing sweat pants.” “You got a thing against sweat pants?” Jisu asks a little confused by how snippy Namjoon and Seokjin are acting towards each other. But Jimin can tell she’s only chiming in to stir a little mischief in the pot. Namjoon snaps his mouth shut and slinks away into the corner of the room like he wants to disappear. “I’m going to stop talking now.” Jimin plops himself on the couch and pulls his legs up to his chest. He in hails deeply, the soothing scent of his husband filling his nostrils. “They’re Yoongi’s sweat pants.” He mutters and the room goes awkwardly still. “They look nice, Mochi.” Namjoon amends and Jimin can see he’s smiling reassuringly at him from the other side of the room. The nice moment is cut short however, when the front door slams open followed immediately by angrily thumping footsteps. “JIMINIE!” Min Yerin bellows through the house, her voice ringing around the room shrilly and making everyone flinch. She throws the door open from the hallway into the main space, almost smacking Namjoon who managed to dodge the door’s trajectory at the last minuet. It doesn’t take long for her dark hawk eyes to hone in on Jimin curled up on the couch. She’s dressed impeccably neat as always. Blue pencil skirt with a cream pussy bow tie shit tucked into it. She’s wearing her signature black fur coat, short back hair cut in a neat symmetrical bob and there are pearls adorning her neck and her ears.

She stands there, carefully scrutinizing every aspect of Jimin, a million different thoughts clearly bubbling through her head. It’s not long before the overwhelming scent of tobacco fills Jimin’s nose, and soon after, her husband, Min Daejung, joins Yerin in the doorway. Hoseok and Namjoon go stiff like they’ve just been electrocuted. Body’s pulled taught and arms snapping tightly by their sides. They bow once at the sight of Min Daejung, body’s falling lower than 90 degrees. Daejung’s got a lit cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth as he casts beady glares at his son’s right hand men. Yoongi may look the most like his mother, but by god him and his father’s personality was cut from the same cloth. Min Daejung is a man of very little words and even less emotions. His thinly cut silver hair is always styled neatly so nothing is out of place, and his clothing etiquette is held to an even higher standard. He’s short, much like Yoongi, but rounder in the belly from one too many scotches in his retired years. “Your hair is pink.” Yerin remarks eyes narrowed at Jimin’s hair. “It was still brown last Saturday which means –“ She snaps her head around the room till her eyes fall on Jisu and she relaxes her body posture in the doorway, trying not to look so intimidating in the face of an ‘innocent.’ “Ah, there you are Jisu-ssi. How nice to see you, how long are you in town?” Jimin is biting back the urge to roll his eyes. This woman has clearly driven four hours or so to see her injured son, but she still finds time to act professional. Jimin hates the way that business always comes first in the Min household, and he’s so thankful Yoongi said fuck you to that rule. Jisu is smirking, clearly thinking the same thing as her son. “Not much longer, probably headed back soon.” Yerin nods like she’s checking off an item on a checklist. “Did you talk to the children about the prospects of grandchildren?” She asks without a hint of embarrassment. Everyone’s eyes in the room go wide and snap immediately to Jimin. Jimin feels like his cheeks are about to burn right off his face. Where in the ever-loving fuck does Min Yerin find her confidence? Her son is passed out in the other room from blood loss and yet the prospects of grandkids are still on the forefront of her mind. Jisu is trying really hard not to burst into uncontrollable giggles at her son’s embarrassment. “Oh, don’t worry I did.” She goads unhelpfully and Jimin bites down an embarrassed wine. Yerin nods tersely again, “We should have lunch before you leave.” It’s an empty promise. But Jimin has noticed the words tended to be passed from the mouths of the rich like a greeting. Seokjin is looking from Jisu to Yerin with a disbelieving smirk on his face. “I don’t have either of you pegged as grandmothers.” Jisu in hails an insulted gasp. “I’m not even 40 yet! Don’t bring that word near me.” She replies repulsed. Yerin shakes her head curtly. “I want heirs.” She elaborates with a dismissive hand wave. “And they will be calling me Yerin, not grandmother.” Jimin’s not even surprised by this revelation. Yerin drags a judgmental eye over Seokjin. “And, who are you?” Seokjin doesn’t even look offended by the fact Yerin doesn’t remember him. He always tries his best to stay under the radar whenever the Min’s were around. “Kim Seokjin, Jiminie’s friend.” He greets with a little bow.

Yerin’s pink painted mouth twists like she’s chewing on a lemon. “Oh, the lawyer.” “Yerin-ah.” Daejung chides. His voice is raspy much like Yoongi’s but there’s so much authority laced through it. Jimin doesn’t understand how Yerin never caves to it, but then again, Yerin is a force to be reckoned with in and of herself. Seokjin batters a dismissive hand. “That’s alright, I get that all the time.” He explains, more than willing to butter the family up and keep them on his good side. Yerin’s eyes turn on Namjoon and Hoseok then. “As for you two.” She begins calmly but they’re both flinching at the double-edged words. Heck, even Jimin is flinching. Seokjin coughs awkwardly, pushing Jisu off her chair. “Well, would you look at the time? We should probably get going if we’re to get to that bookshop before it closes.” Yerin terns her attention back to Jisu, facial expression softening faintly once more. “Oh, are you leaving?” She asks in what Jimin can only assume is a lame attempt at sounding disappointed. Sometimes, Yerin acts more like a robot copying the ways she’s seen other people use emotions, rather than draw on her own. Jisu nods. “Such a shame we couldn’t stay and chat more. But I’m not one for business.” “No.” Yerin agrees easily. “Pity.” Jisu doesn’t know whether to look offended or thankful and chooses to just bow instead. “Nice seeing you again Yerin-ssi, Daejung-ssi.” “You too.” Yerin adds whilst Daejung simply nods his head goodbye. The room waits in silence, eyes glued in the direction of the doorway as they wait for Seokjin and Jisu to leave. But when the slamming of the front door breaks the quiet spell over the apartment, Yerin finally comes marching into the room, guns blazing. “This is fucking ridiculous.” She spits, slipping her bag off and throwing it on one of the breakfast bar stools. “I want a play-by-play of exactly what fucking happened, and why we weren’t called sooner.” “Yerin-ah.” Daejung warns again putting out his cigarette in a silver holder he pulled from his jacket pocket. He’s dressed, as always, in a black suit, Jimin has never seen him in anything else and he thinks it’d be weird to see Min Daejung dressed in sweats. Yerin points a boney, polished fingernail at her husband. “Don’t you Yerin me, my baby has been shot.” She hisses. “Jiminie looks like he’s barely hanging on by a thread and I don’t want to even think about what the fuck is going on through Park Jisu’s head.” “Eomma thinks it’s a kidnap attempt.” Jimin mumbles tiredly from the couch. Daejung grunts. “Jisu’s a big girl, though she may not act like it. She comes from a family of wealth right, Jimin?” Jimin winces but nods his agreement. Daejung sounds so much like Yoongi sometimes, but there’s a dark harsh edge to his voice that still frightens Jimin after all these years. Not that Daejung would ever do anything to Jimin, the man can constantly be found singing his son-in-law’s praises. But he reminds Jimin of a fox in sheep’s clothing. “So she’s clearly used to the idea of wealthy people being kidnapped. It’s an easy cover.” Daejung

finishes his trail of thought. Yerin’s lips are pulled so tightly that they practically disappear. “She’ll have to be compensated.” Jimin looks mortified. “No, Yerin, that’s really not necessary.” He presses. Yerin is lost in her own train of thought. “She’s never taken any of our handouts before though.” She states. “Jiminie, you’ll have to convince her to take it.” “She’s not going to go blabbing to tabloids, there’s no need to pay her off.” Daejung chuckles at his wife. “She’s family.” Yerin is tapping her foot impatiently. “That could have been Jisu with a bullet in her shoulder, I will not be riddled with guilt when I can easily squash it with money.” Jimin feels sick. He’s just coming to terms with the fact his husband was shot. He doesn’t want to think that the same thing potentially could have happened to his mother. Namjoon was right; calling the Min’s was a bad idea. Yerin huffs, frustration flooding her veins. “I can’t believe that stupid son of ours got shot.” She spits at Daejung. Daejung huffs. “This is his fourth bullet wound, why can’t you be a little more proud that our son isn’t a complete idiot?” Jimin flinches, fourth bullet wound. He’s stomach is churning angrily and his hands feel numb as he clenches them tightly in his lap. “Could be worse.” Daejung adds, lighting up another cigarette that Jimin really wants to throw out the window. “He could be dead in the Han River by now.” Jimin is sure he’s gone as pale as a sheet and he can feel Hoseok edging his way to hover over him protectively. The action causes Yerin to snap out of her anger and shoot a small sad smile Jimin’s way. “Don’t listen to this idiot, Jiminie. There’s no way we’d let that happen.” She soothes, but her voice is as soft and gentle as a rock. She totters her way over to him, sitting herself close to him on the sofa. “Are you doing okay?” “I’m fine.” Jimin nods and he is, he really is. He’s holding it together well since Taehyung’s little pep talk. Needles to say he’s still a little rattled. And he knows an afternoon listening to the blunt words of the Min family whilst they handle the group’s next steps wont help much. But he’ll be okay, because he has to, for Yoongi’s sake. “Yoongi-ah said you were strong.” She remarks as if she only now believes those words. Jimin’s not as offended as he feels he should be and just offers his mother-in-law a small smile. She spins on her ass to pin Namjoon with a menacing look. “And where is doctor Woo?” “In with Yoongi now, Yerin-ssi.” Namjoon replies. Jimin is proud of the way he’s holding it together when he clearly looks like he wants to run away and hide. Yerin nods her head and tugs Jimin to stand on his feet, hands clasped tightly around his forearm. “Come Jiminie, let’s leave the scary men to talk.” She orders, dragging Jimin over to the main bedroom. Doctor Woo is busy jotting things down in a little journal when they enter the room. It’s only then that he realises he has no idea of what kind of injury Yoongi is dealing with. He hasn’t asked a single detail, purposefully avoiding the topic so long as he knew Yoongi was okay.

He’s never felt like more of a bad husband in his life. “Doctor Woo, how is my son doing?” Yerin snaps and the poor doctor almost drops the notepad out of sheer panic. He turns to them with a small smile, forehead beaded with sweat despite the cool temperature of the room. Doctor Woo is pretty old, with very little hair left and belly equally as round as Daejung’s scotch filled one. He hunches over as he walks form years of hard work and his face is heavily riddled with aged lines. “He’ll be just fine.” The Doctor explains. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but that’s to be expected from a short ranged wound like that.” He clicks the lid back on his pen, slipping it along with the notebook in the breast pocket of his jacket. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, your son is lucky to be alive. The bullet made a clear entrance and exit. All skin and muscle.” “Oh god.” Jimin whimpers, voice suddenly incredibly dry. It’s in moments like this that Jimin regrets the fact he doesn’t go to church anymore. But maybe all those years of attending willingly, means he’s got a few favors left with the big guy. He makes a mental note to go to Sunday mass the moment Yoongi is better to give thanks. Yoongi would be laughing at him if he heard that. “And when do you expect him to wake up?” Yerin asks, ignoring Jimin’s little sob of worry. Her hand is still clenched around Jimin’s forearm, as if at any minuet the boy might buckle under the weight of his emotions. The doctor is still smiling, but the sweat is now gathering in abundance on his forehead. “He was awake a few moments ago.” He enlightens. “He’s still a little groggy, he’ll be coming in and out of consciousness for a little while longer.” “What can I do?” Jimin asks, voice small. The doctor appraises him carefully. “Well, keeping the wound clean and freshly bandaged is important. And he wont be very hungry, but he needs to keep his strength up.” Yerin titters. “My boy will eat the finest foods. Don’t you worry about that.” “I-I don’t know how to clean bullet wounds or tie bandages.” Jimin mumbles pathetically. The doctor rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you what to do.” He reassures. “Doctor Woo.” Yerin snaps, calling the poor startled doctor’s attention back to the matriarch of the Min family. “Yes, Min-ssi?” He stammers out. “Why does my son have a fake moustache drawn across his face?” She asks and there isn’t a hint of humor in her words. Jimin, who had been initially avoiding looking at his husband for fear he might throw himself at him sobbing, finally turns his eyes on Yoongi’s face. Not much has changed since he saw him earlier that morning. His skin is pale and clammy, dark bags circle under his eyes and his lips are chapped and open serenely as he sleeps.

But surly enough there’s a curly handlebar styled moustache drawn across Yoongi’s face in black marker. “I- “ Doctor Woo begins, not sure what to really say. “It was there when I came in, I thought you would know…” There’s a moment of silence as the three of them stare at the big scary mafia boss, sleeping peacefully with a stupid moustache drawn on his face. Almost like he was the first to fall asleep at a teenage slumber party rather than recovering from a serious injury. He wonders how it got there for all of 1 second before he realises exactly how it got there; Kim Taehyung. With that realisation, Jimin can’t see anything but the humor in the situation and ultimately breaks out into fits of uncontrollable giggles. Yerin is looking at him horrified, hand coming up to rest on his forehead. “Jiminie dear, have you gone mad?” “M-maybe he’s still in shock…” Doctor Woo mumbles. And Jimin knows the whole situation is ridiculous. His husband is laid up in bed sleeping of a bullet wound, he’s been screaming internally over the last few days about the prospect of almost loosing the love of his life. Plus he’s barely holding himself together, tearing apart at the seams as he tries not to break down in fits of tears every 5 minuets. But Kim fucking Taehyung drew a handlebar moustache on Yoongi’s face. And Jimin knows he should be mortified, knows he should be calling Taehyung to yell at him down the phone for being an insensitive ass. But it’s just so funny. So incredibly funny and Jimin feels like he hasn’t laughed in years. Taehyung drew a moustache on Yoongi and his stubborn short-tempered husband is none the wiser. If he ever finds out he’ll be plotting Taehyung’s murder in minuet detail. “This is highly inappropriate.” Yerin scolds, releasing her hold on Jimin and rounding the bed to clean the marker off her son’s face. And it is, it really is so ridiculously inappropriate. But it doesn’t matter, because for the first time in the last 24 hours, Jimin has finally come to terms with the fact that Yoongi’s going to be okay.

____________

Now that things are ultimately more organised around him, Jimin spends the next few days tucked up in a chair next to their bed waiting for Yoongi to wake up properly. Every now and then, Yoongi will groan and twist uncomfortably on the bed, smacking his dry lips together as he goes. But Jimin is right there with a cup of water, steadying his husband’s head and feeding the liquid to him through a straw. After serious instruction from doctor Woo, Jimin confidently changes Yoongi’s bandages twice a day, and cleans the wound as gently and thoroughly as possible. He shivers every time he does, stomach churning at the red raw and marred flesh. Yoongi groans or flinches through the whole process, too tired to completely wake up to feel the pain, but the pain is clearly edging into his dreams nonetheless. Jimin wishes there was more he could do for him, but like Taehyung says there’s nothing he can do in this aspect. So Jimin at least makes sure Yoongi’s brow is dry and his IV if full and he’s comfortable.

Jimin can’t wait for the moment Yoongi wakes up properly; he’s missed his husband’s touch like a child starved of affection. He spends most of his time just sat playing with Yoongi’s hand. Entangling their fingers together and squeezing reassuringly every now and then just to make sure Yoongi’s knows he’s there. But Yoongi’s hand is always limp in his, he doesn’t squeeze back and it makes Jimin impatient. Yoongi is fine, why wont he wake up? Why won’t he wake up and hold Jimin and tell him everything is going to be all right? He’s heard it countless times from everyone else, but it means all the more to him when it comes from his husband’s lips. Right now, Jimin would give anything to hear Yoongi even if it’s his irritated voice as they argue about the fact his mother’s still here. He doesn’t mind if the words aren’t sweet, he just craves to hear Yoongi say anything he’s that desperate. It feels like they’ve been living separately even though they’re right next to each other. They’ve never gone this long without talking the whole time they’ve been together, even through their biggest of fights. 2 days after the attack, Jimin gets a little impatient and decides to curl up next to his husband on the bed whilst no one is around. Yerin, who’s refusing to go home until Yoongi is coherent, has scolded him more than once for doing so however. But Jimin just needs to be near Yoongi and he’s always extra cautious of his injury, as he koala’s himself to his husband’s side. There’s a soft knock at the door whilst Jimin is nuzzling his head into Yoongi’s stomach. He doesn’t bother to move, the only person who takes issue with Jimin curled up with Yoongi is Yerin, and the woman never knocks when entering a room. The bedroom door creaks open, light from the hallway flooding into the darkness that the couple has been lying in. Jimin sighs; eyes scrunching closed from the harsh light and burying his head further into Yoongi’s stomach. Jisu pokes her head around the door, smiling just as brilliant as the hallway’s light. “Hey chick.” She greets in a quiet voice. “Were you sleeping?” Jimin shakes his head. “Just, lying here.” Jisu slips herself into the room and shuts the door behind her. It closes with a soft click and with it the room is bathed in darkness again. “Do you mind if I hang out in here with you guys?” She asks with a mischievous smirk on her lips. “Otherwise I can’t be held responsible for what happens to Min Yerin.” Jimin chuckles quietly, pulling himself to sit upright on the bed. “Sure.” He stretches out his hand in a grabby motion towards his mother as she makes her way across the room. She takes up his hand, pulling it into her lap as she sits on the chair by the bed. “You’re so needy.” She snickers, massaging Jimin’s hand regardless of her teasing words. Jimin’s can feel his face heating up. “That’s because you smothered me in too much love and affection as a child.” Jisu looks mock horrified. “Would you rather I hadn’t?” “Fuck no.” Jimin scoffs. “Then I wouldn’t be so needy.” Jisu hums, fingers massaging gently into Jimin’s skin as her eyes carefully watch Yoongi sleep. “You found a good one, you know?” Jimin smiles fondly. “I know.”

“Don’t tell him I said that.” She presses teasingly. “I like watching him squirm. Out of all the people I’ve met, he’s the easiest to rattle up.” “I won’t spoil your fun.” Jimin replies with a promising wink. There’s a little silence that falls about them for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable or awkward it’s almost comforting. Jimin sighs, feeling the most relaxed he has in 2 days. “Sorry your visit here turned out to be more like a trip from hell.” He appologises a little dryly. Jisu shrugs. “I don’t care.” She responds casually. “I come here to see you, so I don’t care what we do so long as you’re around.” Jimin laughs. “So I should schedule for us to be held hostage at the bank the next time you come then?” Jisu rolls her eyes a devilish smirk playing on her lips as she squeezes Jimin’s hand. “You know what I mean.” Jimin nods, smile still on his face. “You had me really worried there for a minuet though, Chick.” “I know.” Jimin sighs. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’ll always be worried about you.” She illuminates. “Just, try not to close yourself off too much, okay?” “I wont.” Jimin promises, but he feels like it’s a little empty. Jisu gives him a knowing look. “You will.” She argues. “But it’s why I said ‘try’.” She gives his hand one more squeeze before continuing. “I raised you to be strong, Jiminie. You can do anything, don’t you forget that.” “Thanks, Eomma.” She nods, satisfied by her little pep talk before standing to her feet. “Right, I’m gonna get back out there and distract Satan reincarnate so that you can have some alone time.” She winks placing a kiss to the golden skin on the back of Jimin’s hand before letting go. Jimin laughs. “You’re the best.” “I accept money in the form of cash, only.” She jests before reaching out and cupping Jimin’s cheeks. There’s so much admiration and love pouring out of her crescent eyes as she takes in Jimin’s face. It makes him feel so warm and gooey as he practically melts under his mother’s touch. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Chick.” She explains, placing a kiss to his forehead. She gives Jimin’s face a once over before letting it go and tottering to the door. Jimin watches her leave, eyes still glued to the door long after she’s gone and the room is thrown back into it’s eerily stillness. He can hear Yerin’s shrill voice scolding his mother, echoing down the hallway in all its terrifying authority. He thinks he can hear Namjoon too but Jimin can’t be too sure. Namjoon, Hoseok and Daejung have been eerily absent in the apartment ever since the patriarch of the family had arrived. Jimin watches them loiter around the kitchen, eating whatever food Seokjin has made before slinking back out with nothing but a look cut Jimin’s way for him not to worry. In any normal situation, Jimin would most certainly be sick with worry. He has a vague idea of where they’re going and what they’re doing and he knows it has something to do with a certain black clothed shooter. But for the life of him, Jimin just can’t seam to care. The fucker tried to kidnap his mother and shot his husband. Jimin feels more nothing at the fact he’s

turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck is being done to him. He heaves a sigh, swinging his legs off the bed and slumping to the door. There’s a crick in his neck from where he’s been curled up next to Yoongi in the same position for hours. His arms feel stiff and his legs feel numb from their little use, but all in all Jimin doesn’t mind. He locks the door to their bedroom as the patronizing words of; Don’t clean, that’s what a maid is for. Rattle through the doorway from Yerin’s mouth. Jimin shivers, sending a word of thanks to Seokjin and his mother for dealing with Yerin on Jimin’s behalf. Usually he’d be the first over the trenches in deal with Yerin, the woman has a not so secret soft spot for Jimin. Not that many people can tell when the woman changes her facial expression once in a blue moon. He stretches his arms above his head and spins on his heels ready to go back and collapse next to his sleeping husband. But he freezes in his tracks when he sees two eyes glinting at him from across the room. They’re wide open, no hint of grogginess or sleep laced in them. They’re blinking slowly every now and then, locked on Jimin’s face like this is the first time they’re seeing him. They glint from the small moonlight that’s trickling through the thin curtains, dark and deep and everything Jimin has been craving to see. Yoongi. Gingerly, as if any sudden movements may ruin the moment, Jimin makes his way back over to the bed. Yoongi’s eyes follow him, his hair has been pushed away from his face and his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. But he’s still watching Jimin, no signs of collapsing back into exhaustion and Jimin’s heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He sits himself back on the bed, legs curled under him and hands resting gently by Yoongi’s arm. Not quite touching, but so incredibly close. Jimin is biting down the urge to cry, to wail loudly like a child because he needs to be calm. Yoongi probably has lots of questions about what happened, and Jimin needs to keep a level head as he explains everything and relives the torment that’s been the past few days. Yoongi looks like he wants to say something, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as he thinks. Jimin offers him a reassuring smile, encouraging him to talk as he waits patiently. “Fuck.” He finally says, voice ridiculously scratched and dry as he pushes the words up his throat. Jimin wants to wince at the sound, but he forces himself to stay calm and impassive. “Fuck.” Yoongi repeats again, voice a little stronger this time, like he’s testing the waters. His eyes never leave Jimin, wide and brimming with questions. Jimin nods, stamping down the urge to reach out and touch. “It’s okay, I’m right here. What’s wrong, Yoonie?” He asks in a voice no louder than a whisper. “P-pink.” Yoongi mutters through his chapped lips. Jimin cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Pink?” He repeats, patiently waiting for Yoongi’s thoughts to catch up with his mouth. Yoongi lets out an irritated cough, clearing his throat the best he can. Jimin reaches for the water on the nightstand, but Yoongi just shakes his head. He locks his eyes with Jimin again and takes a few deep breaths all the while Jimin just waits, thankful enough that Yoongi is coherent. He waits for the sound of his husband’s voice, waits to hear whatever the hell it is he has to say – excited to be able to just listen to that voice he’s missed so much. “You look like a goddamn vision in pink, sunshine.” He rasps out like he’s been smoking 50 packs of cigarettes a day. But that doesn’t matter, because right now, Jimin feels like he’s been punched in

the heart. And he can hear the exact moment that his control over his self-restraint snaps. “Touch me.” Jimin whispers on an airy intake of breath. Yoongi is all too quick to comply, good arm reaching out to cup Jimin’s face and run his thumb soothingly across the apple of his cheek. The touch sends electricity running through Jimin’s veins, like he’s been sparked back to life from the tingle across his cheek. It’s overwhelming, he can feel his breathing grow heavier and tears prick at his eyes. His heart is hammering ten times faster than usual, running on pure happiness. Jimin laces his own hand in Yoongi’s, holding it tightly to him as he turns his face into Yoongi’s palm. Jimin’s lips are quick to plant kisses there, pressing over and over again into Yoongi’s palm. It’s a reassuring movement, because Jimin’s still struggling to believe that Yoongi is there, touching Jimin like nothing’s even happened. It’s everything and yet it’s not enough all at the same time, and Jimin lets out a small whine before he finds himself seated in his husband’s lap. He’s cupping Yoongi’s face, peppering it with kisses that are mixed with tears as he tries to keep down the sobs that have been bubbling under his skin over the last few days. Jimin’s kisses are desperate; hands shaking with adrenaline, as the fact Yoongi is awake sinks into his bones. All the while, Yoongi just lies there indulging Jimin’s frantic actions, hand slipped from Jimin’s face to rub soothingly up and down Jimin’s arm. The gentle touch from his husband is enough to break the hold he has on his sobbing, letting out little whimpers between kisses, completely unable to hold back his crushing emotions any longer. Yoongi is hushing him. “Baby, baby- “ He coos gently. But his voice is merely a dry rasp from where it’s not been used and it twists Jimin’s insides up more. “Sunshine, please don’t cry.” He asks. Yoongi has never been able to handle Jimin crying. He’s trying to sound soothing, but Jimin can hear the plea in his voice, the hurt in his eyes at seeing Jimin crying, and all it does is cause more tears. Jimin’s sobbing uncontrollably in the small space between them, lips paused in their trail over Yoongi’s skin as he tries to calm himself down. “Sunshine, everything’s going to be all right.” Yoongi explains, eyes worriedly watching Jimin like he’s about to shatter like fragile glass. And Jimin just can’t handle his cocktail of emotions anymore. He’s smashing their lips together needy and frantically as he pours all his pent up worries into it. Yoongi is just as eagerly giving as much as he’s taking, tongue delving into Jimin’s mouth earnestly. Jimin is more vocal than usual, little whimpers mixed with sobs tumbling out of his mouth as he clings to his love like it’s his source of oxygen. Yoongi swallows down all of Jimin’s noises, good hand scratching at the nape of Jimin’s neck just to remind him that Yoongi’s not going anywhere. Consumed by nothing more than desperation, need and love, the kiss is tongue and teeth meshing wildly in a frantic attempt to get closer. Jimin can taste Yoongi and tears on his tongue, can feel Yoongi’s heated skin beneath his fingertips and can hear his heavy pants mixed with Jimin’s own. He’s slowly being encaged by everything Yoongi once more, after days without the man’s presence, and it’s enough to drive Jimin insane. Jimin feels like a drug addict, starved of his drug of choice for days on end, only to have it placed back in his hand after believing he’s okay with out it. Jimin is beyond desperate at this point to be consumed completely by everything Yoongi, that the smallest touch is igniting life back into his bones.

But through all of this, it still isn’t t enough, because Jimin will never get enough of Yoongi. It’s Yoongi who breaks away first, hungry for breath that he just doesn’t have in his weakened state. Jimin wines at the loss of contact, lips resuming their worship over Yoongi’s face while his husband gains his breath back. “Hey, hey.” He calls gently, hand running soothingly down Jimin’s spine. The touch leaves shivers prickling along Jimin’s skin and another sob is pulled from his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” Jimin nods, lips pushing chastely against Yoongi’s. “I know.” Another kiss. “I know.” Jimin mumbles into Yoongi’s mouth. Jimin doesn’t let up on his chaste kisses, regardless of the labored breathing from his husband. Yoongi is chuckling softly between kisses. “Your levels of neediness surprise me everyday, Sunshine.” Jimin snuffles out a laugh, forehead resting against Yoongi’s as he finally stops to catch his own breath. There’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing filling the room and Jimin’s sniffles as he tries to finally calm himself down. “You scared me.” Jimin whispers into the space between them. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi whispers back and his good arm wraps securely around Jimin’s waist, holding him closer and tighter. “I’m never going to forgive you.” Jimin adds, thumbs stroking against Yoongi’s cheeks, hands refusing to leave their hold on Yoongi’s face. It’s grounding him, anchoring him to the wonderful reality that Yoongi is all his, and he’s not going anywhere. Yoongi chuckles. “I didn’t think you would.” He teases. Finally, once the both their breathing has returned to a normal pace, Jimin sits up to get a better look at the man he calls his. There’s a little more colour to his skin then before and Jimin is satisfied in the knowledge that he helped put that there. He releases his hold on Yoongi’s face to push his sweaty bangs back – they’d managed to flop their way back into Yoongi’s beautiful eyes and Jimin wasn’t having that. He wanted a clear view of the wonderful, dark cat like eyes even if they were still set into worrying dark circles. “Oh god.” Jimin wines, heart bursting with so much love he’s not sure what to do with it. “I love you so much.” Yoongi looks awed with the heartfelt confession. They’re no strangers to the passing of ‘I love yous’ between them. But no one would be able to ignore the pure, raw emotion laced in Jimin’s words or miss the adoration swimming in his eyes as he gazes down at Yoongi. “I love you too, Sunshine.” Yoongi returns and his voice breaks on the words as he pours his own emotions into them. Jimin thinks he could just sit staring at Yoongi for the rest of their lives and he would be more than happy. He would run his fingers over the milky planes of Yoongi’s skin, tracing the pale veins and drawing constellations as he goes and Jimin would never get bored. He’d never tire of the sight and touch of his husband; Yoongi would always be the best drug in the world for Jimin. But of course, that’s not the way things work. Because fate is teasing and harsh and likes to ruin the

most beautiful moments in life. Jimin’s barely been able to appreciate his husband for more than five minuets before the little world they made for themselves is disrupted. “Jiminie? Why is the door locked?” Min Yerin snaps through he door. Her irritable voice is joined by the sounds of the door handle rattling viciously and Jimin’s never been more happy that’s he’s locked the door. He thinks Yerin would throw him out the window if she found him straddling her injured son. Jimin tuts irritably, glancing a look at the doorway and muttering a; “Please for the love of god, fuck off.” Under his breath like a prayer, but of course, the rattling still continues. Because not even God can control the likes of Min Yerin. Jimin turns back to Yoongi with a little huff. “Maybe if we’re really quiet, she’ll go away.” He mutters. Yoongi, on the other hand, looks far past the point of annoyance. He looks as though he’s just been told he has to eat a live spider, lips pulled open comically in shock. “Please tell me, that’s not my mother?” He asks incredulously. Jimin looks a little guilty; brain ready with a decent enough explanation as to why Yoongi’s mother is here. But low and be hold, Yerin’s perfect timing interrupts that train of thought with loud obnoxious banging on the door. “Min Jimin! Open this door.” She barks and Yoongi tenses. “Sunshine.” He begins, voice sickly sweet yet pushed through his teeth. “Did you call my mother?” Jimin can’t help but to look a little sheepish. “Technically, Namjoonie-hyung did.” He defends. Yoongi glares at him. “At your command though, no doubt. Joon would never willing call my mother.” “Don’t test me, Min Jimin, I will break down this fucking door.” Yerin’s sharp voice interrupts. Both boys shiver involuntary at the command, muscles tensing under the tone as they gulp down a little prick of fear. Jimin chances a glance at the door to find it’s shaking alarmingly in its frame. “Shit, she wont really do that, will she?” “I wouldn’t put anything past my mother.” Yoongi replies darkly. “Yerin-ssi, he probably fell asleep.” Jisu explains gently, voice wafting towards them from a father distance. And if the ever-bold Jisu is keeping her distance from Yerin, then it’s clear Ms Min is not a happy bunny. “He’s so tired, we should let them rest.” Jisu adds and Jimin sends her a mental thanks for trying to help. “Oh great, Demeter’s here too.” Yoongi snips. He may be injured, but it doesn’t stop Jimin from whacking him on the arm – the good arm. Yoongi hisses, “Be gentler towards the injured, Sunshine.” “I don't care if he’s asleep, this door shouldn’t be locked.” Yerin responds before resuming her banging. The bashes aren’t as often and rhythmic this time, but they’re louder and harsher and Jimin is sure the door is seconds away from splintering. “Oh god, I’d rather be shot again than face my mother right now.” Yoongi groans. Jimin pinches his cheek lightly. “Don’t joke about that.” He warns without a hint of humor in his voice. Yoongi shoots him an apologetic look gingerly pulling himself a little way of the bed to plant a kiss to the base of Jimin’s neck. Jimin shivers at the touch content with the warmth that lingers

there after Yoongi pulls away to flop back on the bed. “Holy fuck, Yerin-ssi what the hell do you eat that makes you this strong?” Jisu’s amazed voice breaks them out of their little moment again. Jimin huffs, slipping off of Yoongi to curl up next to him. “I really don’t want to share you.” Yoongi chuckles. “At least you’re only sharing me with my mother. Now if my father were here, he’d be dragging my ass to the moon and back. I’m surprised he didn’t force me awake and make me work whilst I was still bleeding.” Jimin looks sheepish as he twiddles with his fingers. “Yeah, about that.” Yoongi’s eyes go wide. “You’re kidding me?” “JIMIN!” Yerin bellows and it sounds like the woman has taken to both hitting and kicking the door. “Yah! Park Jimin! I tried!” His mother calls. “Now hurry the fuck up before she breaks your apartment.” “Excuse you, but I think you’ll find that I am not the mother that breaks their children’s things.” Yerin scolds. Jimin knows that his mother is probably rolling her eyes like a petulant child. “That music box thing was ugly, I did you guys a favour.” “Wait, you broke my mother’s music box?” Yerin snaps in shock, but at least the banging on the door has stopped. “JIMIN!” His mother shouts now panic laced in her voice. And if the silence that’s now coming from Yerin is anything to go by, that panic is defiantly warranted. “I’ll just go get that.” Jimin suggests quietly as he slips to his feet. Yoongi’s hand clamps down on Jimin’s wrist holding him in place. “Don’t you dare let her in here.” Jimin smirks. “You know as well as I that Min Yerin cannot be controlled.” Yoongi huffs. “What do I do?” He pleads. “Help your poor invalid husband out.” Jimin giggles. “Go back to sleep, love.” He reaches down to kiss Yoongi’s forehead one more time. “It’ll all be better in the morning.”

Chapter End Notes

Istg, these chapters are getting longer and longer and theRES NO STOPPING ME ヾ (@°▽°@)ノ It just means there's probably a fuck tone more mistakes and I'M SORRY! へ(´д｀へ) I know the last chapter ended with a lot of angst and there's deffo a fair amount in this chapter too. But I tried to make it lighthearted and fluffy where I could - ya girl's just praying it didn't turn out cracky... (❁°͈▵°͈)

Seokjin is me in an emergency fyi. Like the world could be ending and I'd be like, "yeah bu-but listen. Will there be food?" Also, watch me bring alcohol to the end of the world like; "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!" I'm honestly so overwhelmed by all the lovely comments and kudos you guys are leaving! (･д･) I'm so thankful to you guys, really I am~ I honestly didn't think that I'd make this into more than just a few chapters, but here I am getting so invest and engrossed in writing that there's no breaks on this train. ╭( ･ᄇ･)‫و‬ I've got a rough idea of how many chapters I want to write of this. I dunno whether to let you guys know though, because I'm useless at sticking to things (no matter how hard I try ( ᵒ̴̶̷᷄ д ᵒ̴̶̷ ᷅ ) ) But either way, I have a fair few more chapters lined up, so all I can hope is that I write them well for you _:(´□`」 ∠):_ Come chat with me on The Twitters~ It makes my day hearing from you all hmu♥

I'll Give You all of Me Chapter Summary

So what do you do when you find out your boyfriend is the head of the biggest Mafia group in the whole of South Korea? Jimin's asking for a friend, of course...

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Three years ago Jimin is sat curled up on a seat by the window. It’s grey outside, the kind of grey that’s accompanied by drizzling rain and the instinctive need not to leave the house. Raindrops platter pathetically on the window and Jimin’s eyes follow them carefully as they fall. He used to play this game when he was a kid, stuck inside because of the selfish rain. He’d race the raindrops down the window, picking two and wondering which will be the fastest. He wonders why he found it so fascinating as a kid, but yet here he is in his early 20s still racing raindrops down the window. The apartment is cool, a little too cool now that Jimin’s been sat in it for a few a while unmoving. When he’d woken up a few hours ago drenched in sweat, he’d collapsed all too easily under the direct blast of the AC welcoming the cool breeze like an old friend. The humidity of summer is getting harder and harder to starve off as they enter August. Jimin’s not a fan of the humidity, he doesn’t know a single person that is, and so he’s never been more thankful for an invention then that of the air conditioner. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself just a little tighter to conserve some form of body heat. He’s too stubborn to turn the AC off, it’ll just get hot again with in seconds and he’d much rather be cold than hot. He’s waiting. He’s not really sure what he’s waiting for, but he knows that he’s waiting for something. And it’s something ominous. It’s been hanging densely in the air for two weeks now, taunting Jimin at the prospect of storm clouds at any moment. But Jimin is constantly sat waiting for a storm that he knows is coming, but is unsure when it will get here. He can hear the clock in the living room ticking away at him, mocking him as he sits and waits. All the raindrops look the same and he’s forgotten which ones he’s been racing, but when he does he just sighs and picks another two and starts all over again. He’s never been in Yoongi’s apartment alone. He doesn’t know how Yoongi can deal with so much space when it’s just him. Jimin finds his little box of an apartment in Myeongdong to be just right, cozy in its smallness and homely in its finishing touches. Jimin has so many picture frames, ornaments and accessories that litter the small space he calls home and each one comes with an important memory. Yoongi’s apartment doesn’t have anything like that. The whole place looks like it’s been taken right out of a home design catalogue and it doesn’t reflect Yoongi’s tastes or style at all. It’s all sleek black and white furnishings and white walls, whilst Jimin’s apartment is second hand furniture and brightly coloured throws and pillows. Jimin can count on one hand the objects in the apartment that hold

sentimental value to Yoongi and there isn’t a single picture frame anywhere. It’s cold and unlived in. Something of which Jimin minds less when there’s laughter and words filling up the space. Or when there’s music playing through the house and Jimin is forcing Yoongi to dance with him. Or when Jimin’s cooking and there’s a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen that forces Yoongi out of his office in hunger. But right now, as he sits alone in the pressing silence, Jimin can’t see this place as a home. Yoongi left in the early hours of the morning, whispering promises to Jimin that he’d be back as soon as he could. That he couldn’t stay away from work this time, that they needed him. Jimin doesn’t want to think about what it could be he’s needed for. Jimin used to think that all the calls that took Yoongi away from him were for mundane things like international business meetings. He knows now that’s not the case. But he quickly squashes down that train of thought like an annoying bug. Shaking his head a few times for good measure, just to keep his brain clear. He’s been doing that a lot recently, pushing dark thoughts aside and locking them away in a box in the back of his brain. He knows that’s part of the problem, part of why he’s waiting for something to happen and yet nothing comes. He should talk about it; he should talk about it with Yoongi. But he’s too scared. Jimin hears the front door click open and he tenses where he’s sat. Rationally, he knows its Yoongi. But there’s just something cold clawing at his thoughts making him believe that maybe, just maybe, it’s something bad coming for him again. Jimin doesn’t take his eyes of the two new raindrops he’s chosen to race down the window. His back is to the door, legs curled up protectively to his chest and chin resting on his knees.

He can feel Yoongi standing in the doorway, eyes watching Jimin closely and he feels like a patient in an asylum to be gawked at. Yoongi pads over to him gingerly, like he’s dealing with a jittery rabbit rather than his boyfriend and it makes Jimin feel small. Yoongi runs his hands feather lightly over the tingling cold skin of Jimin’s arms and Jimin finds himself relaxing in comfort that his boyfriend’s touch brings. “You’re a little cold.” Yoongi comments from behind him. Jimin smiles, twisting his head to look back at Yoongi. “Then, you should warm me up, don’t you think?” Yoongi chuckles as he drops his briefcase to the floor, and subsequently flops himself over Jimin’s back. Jimin giggles at the sudden weight pressing into him, his chin pushing harder into his knees and his legs are squeezing against his chest. But he likes the feeling. Yoongi’s chin is resting over Jimin’s left shoulder and he twists it to plant a kiss into the side of Jimin’s face. “Did you miss me?” He asks. It’s supposed to be teasing, but Jimin can hear the hope in his voice. Yoongi’s been doing that a lot recently. Pretending to act nonchalant when really he’s far from breezy. Jimin can see so much filtering through his eyes, so many emotions washing across his face that he just can’t hide and Jimin knows that’s part of the problem too. It’s part of the reason why Jimin’s waiting for something to happen, can feel storm clouds in the air. They need to talk, but they’re just not doing it. Jimin rests his head against Yoongi’s, fingers tangling themselves with his boyfriends as they hang

around Jimin’s neck. “I always miss you. Sometimes, even when we’re right next to each other, I still miss you.” Yoongi hums at the elusive comment, as always, cautious not to press Jimin for more. “Did you go out today?” Jimin shakes his head and he can already feel the disappointment radiating off of Yoongi. “Sunshine.” He scolds. Jimin huffs. “It’s raining.” “I thought Taehyung didn’t have a job today? He said he was going to take you shopping.” “I cancelled.” “Sunshine.” “It’s raining.” Yoongi’s responding sigh is short and weighty. It silences the impending argument and the ominous atmosphere hangs even heavier around them. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s heartbeat against him; it’s pounding harshly in his chest and Jimin feels a little guilty about it. It’s Yoongi that moves first; recently it’s always been Yoongi that moves first. He twists his head to plant another kiss to the side of Jimin’s face. “Will you come sit with me a while?” He asks already pulling his weight off Jimin’s back. Jimin nods eagerly as he squeezes his boyfriend’s hands. Yoongi leads them to the couch, the clock ticking so loudly in the silence that it startles Jimin a little. He never knew the damn thing was so loud. Yoongi pulls Jimin into his lap, the two of them moving like magnets, as they get comfortable. Jimin throws his legs over the side of the couch as Yoongi leans more contentedly into the corner between the armrest and the back. Yoongi’s arms wrap tightly around Jimin’s back, and Jimin rests his head against Yoongi’s chest. “I’ve been thinking.” Yoongi begins once they’re settled. “Ooo, dangerous.” Jimin mocks but Yoongi only scoffs and pinches his hip playfully. “As I was saying.” Yoongi starts again. “I’ve been thinking that, maybe, we should take a break.” Jimin tenses. The way Yoongi’s worded that phrase has every nerve on edge because it sounds like the makings of a break up speech. But Jimin knows his boyfriend is one of the most emotionally constipated people on the planet and can’t take anything for face value. “That all depends.” He responds. “On what?” Yoongi asks. “On what you mean by the word ‘break’.” Jimin clarifies and he can’t help but fiddle nervously with the buttons on Yoongi’s shirt. Yoongi hums. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could head down to Busan for a few days?” Jimin can feel all the tension in his muscles evaporate and releases a shaky breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Okay, like a break from Seoul.” Jimin nods. “I can see how that’d be good.”

“What did you think I was talking about, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks cautiously. “It doesn’t matter.” Jimin pushes the issue aside. “Do you have the free time to go to Busan?” Jimin can tell Yoongi doesn’t like how Jimin moved the conversation on so briskly. “That’s why I went in today, I cleared my schedule for the next week.” Yoongi explains a little slowly as his brain ticks over other things. “I bought us tickets, we leave tomorrow if you’re okay with it.” Jimin hums; he’s more than a little okay with it. He hasn’t been home in so long and he just knows that a trip to Busan will mean less ominous storm clouds. “I’ll need to call Eomma.” “So, is that a yes?” Yoongi asks and this time he doesn’t try and hide how hopeful he sounds. Jimin presses a kiss to his boyfriends chin. “That’s a yes.”

____________

“Holy shit I’m really fucking nervous now.” Jimin mumbles. He’s fidgeting restlessly in his seat eyes trained on the scenic views that speed past them. The train has AC blaring at them at full blast but he still feels sweat licking down his neck. Yoongi is sat opposite him, eyes carefully trained on Jimin as he wiggles uneasily in his seat. Jimin’s still wondering how they managed to snag a 4 persons seat for just the two of them, especially considering the train is ridiculously crowded today. No, scratch that. He knows exactly how they managed to bag these seats and it’s all down to how fucking terrifying his boyfriend is in the eyes of other people. At least Jimin knows why that is now. “Sunshine, you really need to calm down. I’ve met your mother a good 18 times now. You’re only supposed to be nervous the first time your boyfriend meets your parents.” Yoongi chuckles. He reaches out a hand to rest on Jimin’s jittering knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Jimin rolls his eyes. “I know that.” He spits, he gets a little defensive when he’s nervous – so sue him. “But I introduced you as Yoongi my CEO boyfriend.” Yoongi smirks. “I still am Yoongi you’re CEO boyfriend.” He explains. Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “You know what I mean.” Yoongi pops one of his legs over the other, retrieving his hands and placing them on his own knees. Jimin guesses it’s supposed to look intimidating – but Jimin just can’t see it. “Are you referring to my illicit activities?” He asks. Jimin is very close to just jumping head first out the train window. “What the fuck else would I be referring to? The fact you’re blonde now?” “There’s not need to personally attack my hair.” Yoongi grouches and all it does is wind Jimin up ten times more. He can feel the irritation that's running through his veins in the way he’s trying calm down his breathing. He’s counting backwards from ten and he can feel those fucking storm clouds thundering mockingly above his head. But they’re supposed to be on a break. They’re supposed to not be thinking about anything that

they’ve left behind in Seoul and there’s no way Jimin is going to break down now. Not when they haven’t even made it to Busan yet. Jimin is pretty sure Yoongi can see how Jimin is battling with himself. So he slides out of his seat opposite Jimin into the one next to him instead. “Sunshine, I really don’t know why you are so stressed.” He wraps an arm around Jimin’s shoulders and pulls him closer to his chest. “We’re not telling your mother, so there’s nothing for you to be worried about.” Jimin is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I can’t keep secrets from her. She can read me like a book, I’m worried I’ll let something slip.” Yoongi shrugs. “Then, just tell her?” That would be so easy. If he just told his mother about the horrifying events of 2 weeks ago then Jimin’s certain everything would be easier. He tells his mother basically everything, she’s his confident and best friend and he wants nothing more than to burst in front of his mother and have her pick up the pieces. But he just can’t do that, it’s just not fair to her. Jimin groans, running a hand through his black locks. “I can’t do that. I don’t want to put her at any more risk.” Yoongi furrows his brows. “More risk?” Jimin nods. “It’s my fault she’s been unwillingly and unknowingly brought into a this new issue. I want to keep her safe as much as possible.” Yoongi cups Jimin’s face and turns it to face him. His face is smooth as stone, set in a firm look that locks Jimin resolutely in place. “I need you to listen to me, Jimin, and I need you to listen carefully.” Yoongi begins. Jimin’s teeth sink harshly into his bottom lip, eyes going wide as a in hails a sharp breath. Jimin doesn’t like the way his name sounds on Yoongi’s lips, not anymore, not after what happened. Not after that night, with his eyes trained so coldly on Jimin, all warmth towards him lost like he was looking at something detestable rather than looking at his boyfriend. Jimin’s always been Yoongi’s Sunshine, but now when Yoongi calls him ‘Jimin’, it feels distant. Like they’re slipping away from each other, and Jimin can’t stand it. He nods once, trying so hard to suppress the shiver that runs down his spine. He may not be scared of Yoongi himself, but Jimin is scared of what he does. It’s even more terrifying to Jimin seeing as he’s constantly trying to avoid the subject matter and pushing all dark thoughts from his mind. But Jimin’s chosen ignorance on the matter is only making things worse. He knows this and yet here he is, still being a coward. Yoongi’s thumbs stroke delicately on the apples of Jimin’s cheeks. The rhythmic motion soothes Jimin only a little, clinging to the soft side of his boyfriend that he knows is just for him. “I swear to you, with all that I have, that no harm will ever come to you or your mother.” Yoongi’s voice is unwavering and yet so quiet. Like he’s passing important secrets to him that is only for them to know. But with the determined look in his eye, Jimin knows Yoongi would be more than willing to shout his promise to the heavens if Jimin so wished. “I admire the loyalty you have for your mother. And I will honor it with my dying breath if I so have to. Do you understand?” He finishes, eyes holding Jimin’s gaze carefully.

Jimin nods once, words momentarily lost on him. “Good.” Yoongi concludes leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on Jimin’s red bitten lips. “Now stop worrying sunshine, okay?” And just like a hypnotist snapping his fingers to end a trick, Jimin is pulled out of the serious conversation. Head feeling dizzy but heart feeling just a little bit lighter. Yoongi pulls him back into his side and Jimin nuzzles his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. That ominous feeling in the pit of Jimin’s stomach feels smaller, if only by a little bit. And Jimin likes to think that maybe they can be different people in Busan. Maybe they can both be a little less scared. ____________ Jimin forgets how much he loves Busan during the summer. It’s hotter than hell itself but at least the air is clearer than the muggy streets of Seoul. Everything smells like sea salt, the sky is a deeper blue and the people have a friendlier look about them. “Fuck. It’s hot.” Gripes his boyfriend, who is currently in the process of procuring them a renter car. Jimin rolls his eyes. “Seoul is hot too.” He comments dryly as he sits happily in the sun. His golden skin is practically singing as it soaks up the vitamin C. Yoongi’s skin, however, who is completely covered head to toe, must be suffocating. He’s never seen the man show more skin than necessary during the summer and Jimin always finds it a little sad. But his boyfriend is as pale as a milk bottle, so Jimin supposes a few seconds under the scorching sun and he’d be red from ears to toes. He’s wearing tight fitting blue wash jeans, an incredible feat in and of itself during this humid climate. His feet are slipped into little brown sandals and he’s wearing a long sleeved, black, cool tech top under a baggy white shirt. He’s pulled a black cap low on his head and Jimin can see he’s put all his silver piercings in for once. They catch in the sun, playing with the light to cast twinkle reflections over Yoongi’s shoulder. Jimin is very close to purring appreciatively at the sight of his boyfriend. Jimin loves Yoongi in just about anything, and when they first met the sight of Yoongi in a suit had Jimin swooning. But the rare times Yoongi is not dressed for work, is the times that Jimin has come to love too. There’s nothing Jimin loves more than seeing his boyfriends cute little bubble butt wrapped up in a pair of tight jeans. “At least there are places to hide in Seoul that have AC.” Yoongi groans singing the last of the documents for the car and practically throwing the pen at the employee. The poor kid looks like he’s in high school and he obviously flinches away from Yoongi’s harsh movements. He’s clearly picked up a summer job to gain a bit more cash and wasn’t expecting to serve an irritable mafia boss. Jimin jumps to his feet, already walking towards the plush looking black Mercedes wagon that Yoongi just had to have. “The car will have AC.” “Your mother’s house doesn’t have AC.” Yoongi retorts slumping closely behind Jimin. Jimin giggles as he slips into the front seat; the leather burns under his touch even though the employees had turned the AC on for them 15 minuets ago. “So that’s why you’re so grumpy all of a sudden.” He muses.

Yoongi is quick to slide into the drivers seat with a cuss on his lips at the blistering leather interior. “Maybe.” He grouses and Jimin returns it with a sweet giggle. “Hotels have AC.” “My mother has two spare rooms, it’s cheaper.” “Sunshine, does it look like I give a fuck about money?” Jimin doesn’t respond and instead flicks the radio on and turns it up to a stupidly high volume. He’s being petty; Jimin knows it, Yoongi knows heck even God himself knows it. But they had made such good progress on the train that Jimin doesn’t want to ruin it now. Yoongi flicks the car in drive with a harsh move and speeds angrily out of the car rental place. He’s moving a little too fast along the roads for Jimin’s liking, but he can tell that it’s calming Yoongi down. He can feel the annoyance and hurt radiating off of his boyfriend at the way Jimin has shut him down again. Jimin knows he’s beyond being petty now, after avoiding the impending arguments like the plague for as long as he has; he’s now officially being a dick. A dick that’s trampling all over Yoongi’s feelings as well as his own, but he just can’t bring himself to act any other way right now. Because giving into the arguments means Jimin has to come to terms with things he’s really not ready to face. Not yet, anyway. Jimin wants to roll the windows down and feel the Busan air on his skin and maybe clear his head a little. But his grouch of a boyfriend would never allow that, not when the Busan air is the same temperature of the pits of hell. So instead they sit in silence as random pop music fills the awkward air between them. He wishes more than anything that they were on better terms for this trip. It’s the first time Jimin has brought Yoongi home, and Jimin has been looking foreword to this moment for so long. There’s so much he wants to show Yoongi, so many places and food and memories he wants to share between them. But he has this horrible sinking feeling that they wont be making much time to create fond memories. “Are you still hot?” Yoongi asks over the blaring music around 20 minuets into the drive. Jimin shakes his head, turning the volume down just a tad. “I’m alright, I dressed for the weather after all.” He tries to lace as much teasing into his voice and shoots his boyfriend a little smirk. They maybe having a hard time right now, but they’re in Busan, in the place of Jimin’s childhood, and he really wants them to have at least a little fun. Yoongi scoffs. “Hey, you love me in these jeans.” Jimin hums appreciatively. “I do love you in those jeans.” He runs a hand along Yoongi’s thigh and he can feeling Yoongi tense under the touch. “And what are you trying to do, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks darkly, one eyebrow cocked in question. He spares little glances Jimin’s way out of the corner of his eye, his speed drops dramatically and Jimin can feel the tension bleeding out of the air. Jimin giggles evilly. “Absolutely nothing, Babe. We’re almost at my mother’s house.” Yoongi is smirking. “But we’re not at your mother’s house yet.” “Get it all out now, because it’s gonna be PG-13 for the next week.” Jimin scolds, but there’s a giggle lacing his voice. Yoongi sighs overdramatically. “Sunshine, you’re being a bratty tease right now.”

Jimin wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I know.” He snickers. “It’s intentional.” “Because you think there’s nothing I can do about it?” “No, because I know there’s nothing you can do about it.” Jimin clarifies leaning across the middle console to press a kiss into the corner of Yoongi’s smirking mouth. “You love me too much to do anything about my bratty ways.” Yoongi sighs, detaching a hand from the steering wheel to interlace with the one Jimin has on his thigh. “I really do.” He agrees without any humor or teasing in his voice. He’s not looking Jimin’s way, eyes focused a little dreamily on the road ahead as if reminiscing in something sweet that Jimin can’t see. But his words are nostalgic, sentimental and are said like it’s the most important thing Yoongi’s ever agreed with. Jimin just lets the words settle over him as he sits staring at Yoongi’s profile. He doesn't know how he does it, but Yoongi has the ability to know the best things to say to Jimin that make him feel better about himself. Half the time, Jimin’s certain Yoongi doesn’t know he’s doing it. But Yoongi always knows just what to say and at just the right time. The car lapses into another silence after that. But there’s no bad air between them this time. The radio is on a quieter volume, there are small smiles decorating their faces, Jimin hums along to the music every now and then and they never let go of each other. Soon, Yoongi pulls up in the only parking spot for the house. It’s always empty considering his mother doesn’t drive and depends on public transport to help her out. He cuts the engine, eyes taking in the house before him. “This really wasn’t what I was expecting.” Yoongi ponders unbuckling his seat belt with his eyes still trained on the house. The outside is painted white, with a cherry blossom tree standing guard out front. The inside is simple, with very little furniture than the basics and necessities. But the walls are painted brightly and the rooms decorated with countless picture frames, ornaments and knickknacks that have been collected from the family of two’s adventures over the years. It’s a 20-minuet walk from the beach and has only three neighbors, not that they’re particularly close, a good five minuet walk away. It has two floors, the top situating three bedrooms whilst the rest of the house is spread out across a spacious ground floor. It’s not an open plan design like Yoongi’s apartment, and certainly isn’t as big as the penthouse-suit either. It’s pretty old, or full of history, as his mother likes to say. With nicks all over the walls, old windows that squeak in protest when opened and wooden flooring smoothed from years of use. But Jimin’s favorite part of his home, is the garden. The bright garden that has been his mother’s pride and joy when she took to planting a rose bush and actually managing to keep it alive. Now there’s so many different types of plants and flowers, that throw rainbows of colour about the garden, that Jimin’s lost count. But he doesn’t care; because it’s the most beautiful and peaceful place that Jimin has ever known. He’s spent countless summers, curled up on a blanket in the garden just reading with his mother. The heat would prick at their skin and a warm breeze would rustle through the plants as they did – but it’s Jimin’s fondest memories. Jimin’s face is split in an excited smile. “What were you expecting?” Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe one of those new age homes that come cheap to help low income families.” Jimin glowers at him and Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding.” He shoots back quickly. “I just wasn’t

expecting anything so old.” “Now you understand why we don't have AC?” Jimin chuckles slipping his hand out of Yoongi’s to open the car door. He’s already beginning to feel more relaxed being back in the home of his childhood. He can smell the heavenly scent of his mother’s garden mixing with the sea salt air and it has Jimin feeling at peace. Yoongi nods. “I have no idea how you managed to live.” He clicks open his own door, letting out a grumble of protest when the humidity hits him again. “We managed.” Jimin jokes skipping round to the boot of the car ready to help with the bags. Yoongi moves round to the back of the car, eyes carefully watching Jimin as he buzzes in his excitement. “Just like we will, right?” He asks and his voice is so quiet that Jimin almost misses it. He kind of wishes he had missed it, but he doesn’t. He hears every syllable laced in worrying hope and it crushes Jimin. It weighs down on him like a personal form of dense gravity and Jimin tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I-I…” He stutters and Jimin can see the hope slowly leaving Yoongi’s eyes and the crushing weight on him grows heavier. “I hope so.” He forces out but his voice is weak and wobbly and Jimin hates himself for it. Because he’s really not sure whether they’re going to be okay right now. And he knows it’s partly his fault for running away, but he wants and hopes more than anything that everything will be okay. “Sunshine-“ Yoongi begins, voice serious again as he takes a step towards Jimin. Jimin wants to reach out and wrap his arms around Yoongi and squeeze all the doubt and worry out of him. He wants to tell Yoongi that he loves him over and over again prove to him that they’ll manage just fine. But as he takes a step towards Yoongi, and sees the hope filling his eyes again, there moment it abruptly interrupted from a shriek that echoes over to them from towards the house. “JIMINIE!” The shrill cry of his mother calls, snapping his attention back to the house and shattering the serious atmosphere around them. In a matter of seconds, Jimin is tackled to the ground, his mother collapsed on top of him as she hugs him incredibly tightly. “Welcome home!” She announces loudly into his chest. Jimin giggles, the solemn feeling literally shoved out of his chest. “Good to be home, Eomma.” He agrees and wraps his arms around the small woman. She’s wearing one of Jimin’s favorite sundresses; white with yellow sunflowers, but she feels a little thinner than the last time they had met. They separate from their hug and smile matching eye smiles at each other. Jisu’s hair is braided messily down her back with odd hairs sticking out and her make-up is only half applied. “Did you just wake up?” He teases. His mother looks at him with an appalled look. “No, I’ve been up for a few hours.” “Why do you look like you’re only half dressed?” He asks before spying another look at his mother’s attire. “And why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” Jisu laughs. “It’s a surprise!” She announces, finally getting off her son to kneel on the grass beside him. She shoots a quick glance up at Yoongi. “Hey Hades.” “Demeter.” Yoongi offers dryly in greeting. “Thanks for having me.” She winks. “Anytime so long as you bring my Persephone with you.” She explains, pulling a now

seated Jimin into another bone crushing hug. Yoongi only hums; slamming the boot shut and Jimin can see out of the corner of his eye that Yoongi has shouldered the entirety of their luggage. Jimin scrambles to his feet. “Let me help.” He offers, hand reaching out to take on of the bags. “Oh no, Yoongi’s chivalrous enough to carry all the bags.” Jisu buts. She pulls Jimin towards her by his writs like a child bossily telling her friends not to play with her favorite toy. “Eomma.” Jimin scolds. “It’s alright, it’s only two bags.” Yoongi justifies. “And your satchel and my back pack in the front.” Jimin counters. “It’s fine, Sunshine.” Yoongi is smiling, but it’s no way near as soft as usual. “Yoongi- “ “I said it’s fine.” “Hey!” Jisu snaps drawing the attention of the couple to her. “If you’re really adamant on carrying something, you can carry me.” She offers and Yoongi laughs like it’s a joke. However, Jimin can see the evil twinkle in her eye and his lips pull into a hard flat line. “You wouldn’t dare.” But of course, this is Park Jisu we’re talking about, and she most defiantly would dare. So when Jimin finds his mother clinging tightly to his back after taking a small running jump at it, he’s really not surprised. “You’re such a good son, carrying her mother because she’s not wearing any shoes.” She coos sarcastically as they make their way to the house. Jimin huffs. “This is all entirely against my will, and one of many examples I’ll be bringing up in court.” Jisu laughs, her voice is loud and warm and Jimin finds himself relaxing at the sound. “You still going on about that empty court case of yours? I’m telling you, I’m the only one that wants you.” “I want him.” Yoongi chimes in, all four bags securely in hand as he trails along next to them. The words snap Jimin’s attention back to Yoongi, and he’s greeted by an honest stare directed his way. Jimin can feel his cheeks heating up and Yoongi smirks at Jimin’s embarrassed look. Jisu clicks her tongue. “Don’t ruin my teasing, Hades.” She scolds. “I’ve been telling Jiminie for years that the reason he’s stuck with me is because I was the only one that bought him from the bargain bin in the supermarket. Don’t ruin the fun now.” Yoongi snaps his eyes to Jisu and he looks so incredibly disgusted it’s almost cute. “What kind of psychological bullshit is that?” “It’s okay, it’s why I’m going to take her to court.” Jimin reasons as he kicks open the front door. From just a quick glance he’s warmed to see that nothing’s changed. He dumps his mother unceremoniously on the floor, a move Jisu wasn’t ready for in the slightest and she lands on the wooden floor with a loud ‘fuck’. Yoongi is biting on his lips to stop himself from laughing and Jimin is still taking in the house that he hasn’t seen in a good year. He can hear the wood creaking, smell the fragrance from the garden and

the feeling of being home only now overwhelms him. It’s just what he needed, something normal and unchanging in a world that’s been turned on its head over the past few weeks. “Where can I put these?” Yoongi asks and Jisu pulls herself back on her feet. Jimin shoots him a big smile. “Leave them there for now, I’m thirsty.” “Tea’s in the fridge.” His mother supplies whilst Jimin slips off his shoes. Yoongi dumps the bags on the floor and slips his own shoes off at the same time. When’s he’s done, Jimin interlaces their hands together and the movement surprises Yoongi, who flinches a little at the touch, but Jimin pushes past it. “Kitchen’s this way.” He explains tugging on his boyfriend’s hand and leading him through the house. The kitchen is at the back of the house, with large glass doors that open out into the beautiful garden beyond it. Jimin can see Yoongi’s eyes blow wide at the colourful sight beyond the open doors and Jimin feels a sense of pride for his beaten up family home. It’s beautiful in it’s oldness. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hand in favour of pulling three glasses from the cupboard and grabbing the tea from the fridge. He sighs when he sees the thing is practically bare. “Find it?” Jisu asks, bounding into the kitchen behind them Jimin frowns at her. “I did, not really hard to find seeing as there’s nothing in here Eomma.” She looks mock shocked, peering her head round the refrigerator door to see for herself. “Huh, you’re right.” She ponders but Jimin knows its all a façade. “What a mystery.” “The really mystery is how there’s such a beautiful garden out there and it’s still alive when this house is only occupant is you.” Yoongi scoffs, eyes still drinking in the garden. “I’m going to take your scathing remark as a compliment, so thanks Hades.” Jisu winks at him. She snatches up the jug of tea from Jimin’s hands and starts pouring it into the waiting glasses. “Eomma, I told you to pick up some groceries.” Jimin scolds. “Seriously, who is the parent between you two?” Yoongi mocks. Jisu hums passively as she pours the last glass full of tea. “Groceries sound like something I definitely didn’t get.” “Not even the essentials?” Jimin wines. “I told you just to get the essentials to last till tomorrow and then I’ll – “ Jisu hushes her son, pushing a glass towards him. “Yes, yes, yes. I got the essentials, we have tea don’t we?” She pushes another glass towards Yoongi. “Have some faith.” She scolds before placing the tea back in the fridge. “Famous last words.” Jimin mumbles under his breath and Yoongi is biting back another laugh. Jisu spins on her heels to face the boy again, face split into an excited grin, “So what do you two have planned for…” He begins, but the shrill ringing of a phone cuts her words off abruptly. And it’s not just any phone, it’s Yoongi’s phone. “I thought work wasn’t going to call while we’re here.” Jimin asks and he can’t keep the acid out of his voice.

Yoongi sighs, pulling the phone from his back pocket to look at the caller ID. “It’s my mother.” “Can’t you just call her back?” Jimin asks. Yoongi levels him with an ‘are you serious’ look that’s answer enough to Jimin’s question. There’s no way to ignore Min Yerin, no matter how hard you try. “Did you not tell her we were coming here?” He asks instead, voice still annoyed. “Of course I did.” Yoongi snaps. “But she’s my mother, she can call me whenever she wants.” Jimin doesn’t answer and Yoongi saunters his way out of the room to answer the call. “Now I understand the sudden want to come visit.” Jisu sighs flopping into one of the seats at the kitchen table. Jimin narrows his eyes at her. “What are you talking about?” She takes a sip of her tea, eyeing her son carefully. “You’ve been here all of what, 20 minuets? And the two of you have sparked two fights and then left them simmering unhealthily.” Jimin turns his head away from her, there’s no way he can deny the fact they’re having problems. But if his dense mother has picked up on their issues this quickly, then it must be worse than it actually is. Jimin takes a sip of his tea to calm his raging thoughts. “We just needed a break, Seoul was a little suffocating.” He justifies, but the excuse doesn’t sound right to Jimin. His mother hums thoughtfully. “Seoul, huh?” She asks and Jimin hates the way she just knows. She knows immediately that Jimin’s not happy, that’s Jimin just isn’t doing okay and he hates the fact he can’t talk to her about it. “Yeah, Seoul.” He replies sipping on his tea, eyes trained on the vase of yellow tulips sitting on the windows ceiling of the window above the sink. “Sorry, she wanted to make sure we had gotten here alright.” Yoongi explains rejoining the mother and son pair in the kitchen. Jisu is beaming at him. “Mothers, huh.” She jokes. “We suck with all our constant worrying.” “I thought I’d move the bags to wherever the hell we’re staying. They’re a bit of a health hazard by the door.” Yoongi suggests. “I’ll take you up to my room.” Jimin offers already turning on his heels to head over to Yoongi. “No!” Jisu exclaims, jumping to her feet dramatically. “Leave them in the hallway, you can’t go upstairs.” Jimin cocks a worried eyebrow. “And why the hell not?” Jisu is grinning wide like a Cheshire cat. “It’s all part of that surprise I was talking about earlier.” Yoongi grimaces. “Why does that fucking terrify me?” “Calm down Hades, it’s a good surprise.” Jisu scoffs. “But it’s not ready yet so you two can’t go upstairs.” She explains. “Right.” Jimin drags the word out patronizingly, but Jisu pays him no notice. “In fact, I could really use some privacy whilst I finish up upstairs, so why don’t you two go out?” She offers stepping towards them.

Yoongi and Jimin take a step back towards the door from the sudden proximity of Jisu. “Go out?” Yoongi groans. “But we just got here.” “Exactly! Busan is calling my friend.” Jisu reiterates and Jimin realises that she’s practically heading them towards the door like lost sheep. “Go get some food or something cos lord knows I didn’t get anything in.” Jimin glowers at her. “What about the essentials I was talking about?” Jisu shrugs still ushering them towards the door. “They’re upstairs. They’re the surprise.” “I don’t even know where to begin with that explanation.” Yoongi snickers. Jimin rolls his eyes. “Eomma…” “Nice to see you chick, come back around five when business hours are over.” Jisu explains gesturing towards their shoes. Begrudgingly the two follow Jisu’s demands and as soon as their shoes are on, Jisu is pushing them out of the door with one last wave. They stand a little awkwardly on the front porch not really sure what to do with themselves. But the humidity is intense and disgusting and Jimin can feel his clothes already dampening with sweat. “I’m starving.” Jimin announces, tugging on the hem of his neck of his t-shirt. He’s regretting wearing a T and a long-sleeved shirt over the top no matter how thin both of them are. At least the T is white and the shirt is a pale blue so it’s doing a better job at reflecting the sun off him. Yoongi nods. “What’s good around here?” He asks taking up Jimin’s hand and leading them back towards the car. The movement is subconscious, like a natural reflex that Yoongi is so used to he does it without thinking. It makes Jimin realise just how intertwined with each other they are, how much they rely on each other and how much their actions and thoughts revolve around the other. “There’s a lot of great stuff down by the beach.” Jimin suggests and there’s a small smile pulling at his lips that cause Yoongi to look over at him. Jimin covers his mouth with his hand, embarrassed by how intensely Yoongi is looking at him, but he doesn’t stop smiling. “Sounds good to me.” Yoongi agrees, mirroring Jimin’s smile with a small adoring one of his own.

____________

They don’t drive for very long until they make it to the beachfront. Jimin wines the whole way there about how hungry he is and Yoongi, being the soft boyfriend he is, placates Jimin’s wines by rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. Needless to say they don’t spend long looking through the restaurants along the beachfront, Jimin’s hunger pulling them into the first one they find. There are only two other full tables in the rather small café. There’s a large TV on one of the walls playing some daytime drama of which the patrons are ogling brainlessly at while they eat. Yoongi pulls them to sit in a small table in the corner, one that’s out of the sight of the other customers and could go easily go unnoticed in its hidden corner. “Thank fuck, AC.” Yoongi breathes deeply, face turned towards the air conditioner and he finally removes his black cap.

Jimin giggles at the flat mess of hair on his head. “Come here.” He coos, leaning over the table to run his fingers through the locks. Yoongi smiles endearingly. “Was my hair not up to your liking?” Jimin giggles. “You looked like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.” He mocks removing his hands once Yoongi’s hair looks considerably less flat. “Maybe that’s the new style I’m going for.” Yoongi jests. Jimin sits back in his seat, chin resting in his palm and elbow resting on the table. He ogles at his boyfriend appreciatively and not so subtly. “I suppose I’d still like you if that’s what you really wanted.” Yoongi cocks a mocking eyebrow his way. “You suppose, huh?” And all Jimin does is smile brilliantly at him, eyes creasing into smiles of their own as he does. “C-can I get you s-something to drink?” The waitress’ stuttering voice asks and interrupts the little moment the two are sharing. That seams to be happing a lot recently, and Jimin’s not sure whether he’s thankful or annoyed by it. Jimin turns his head to look at the waitress and immediately he can tell something’s off. She’s not looking at either of them in the eye, head downcast at her notepad and her hands are shaking. The woman is probably around the same age as his mother, with dark hair scraped back in a bun and an incredibly thin frame. She’s looks timid? No, she looks scared. And when Jimin chances a glance at Yoongi, he can see that his boyfriend is thinking the same thing as he takes in the squirming waitress. “I’ll take a black ice coffee.” Yoongi explains. His voice has a cold edge to it that doesn’t sit well with Jimin and he finds himself stiffening in his seat. “And an ice tea.” He finishes whilst the woman scribbles the rushed order on the pad in her hand. She nods once and scuttles away as fast as her legs can carry her. There’s no welcoming smiles and reassurance that their order will be brought to them quickly like it is in every other restaurant Jimin’s been in before. And it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Yoongi flicks open the menu, eyes glossing over the contents, not bothered at all by the strange little exchange that just went on. Usually, Jimin wouldn’t even think anything off it either. Yoongi apparently looks intimidating to anyone that isn’t him anyway. And on occasion, people have acted incredibly terrified of Yoongi whilst waiting on them even though the man had given them no reason too throughout their visit. Jimin used to think it was because Yoongi is a well-known rich CEO that people didn’t want to get on the bad side of. But now he’s more the wiser. “What was that about?” Jimin asks in a hushed voice and the sudden need to know surprises him. Yoongi looks just as surprised as Jimin by his sudden interest in the very topic that he’d been running away from over the past two weeks. He schools his face quickly; purposefully sculpting the right words to ask in his mind that wont frighten Jimin away from his sudden interest. “What was what about?” He finally inquires. “She was scared of you.” Jimin elaborates brain practically vomiting the words out now that they’ve been given a escape route. Yoongi looks over to the waitress who is now serving food to another table. His eyes run over her once more, clearly buying time so that he can find the appropriate words to say. His face is calm, but

Jimin can just imagine the storm of conflicting thoughts raging through his head. He sighs, eyes turning back onto Jimin and pinning him seriously under his gaze. “I think she pays protection money to us.” His tone is as breezy as if he were talking about the weather. Jimin’s eyes bulge. “Why do they need to protection from?” Yoongi’s lips pull into a harsh flat line. “It’s more of a formality. I’m not sure of all the ins and outs of this place’s case. But usually when we buy land and owners refuse to move, we bump up the prices of their rent until they can’t afford to stay.” It’s the longest comment Yoongi has made in regards to his mafia activities. It’s not particularly very big, and really Jimin is positive that it’s one of the nicer things that he and his underlings do. But it still makes Jimin feel sick. “That’s horrible.” Jimin gasps and the words cause Yoongi to flinch. “I thought you didn’t want to know all the dirty little secrets?” Yoongi snaps back maliciously and this time Jimin flinches. “I didn’t. I mean I don’t!” Jimin stutters quickly, hands flying to open the menu and effectively cut their conversation off short. He can feel Yoongi’s eyes linger on him just a little longer, body stiff in the chair opposite him, before he goes back to eyeing his own menu. A silence settles between them again and Jimin finds it hard to actually read anything in front of him. They’ve sat through a lot of silences over the past two weeks Jimin has come to realise. He never knew the two of them could be this incredibly distant around each other. Not since they first started dating and the pair were awkwardly quiet. “They have your favorite.” Yoongi comments and all Jimin can do is nod and offer a distracted hum. There’s another whole minuet of silence before Jimin just can’t stand it anymore. He feels like the box he’d locked away all the worrying and dark thoughts about Yoongi’s double life has been opened like Pandora’s box. He’s a rolling stone; he’s not going to stop himself from talking now that the thoughts have started running his mind again. “So, what makes this land so great? Can’t you find some other place and let the woman keep her café?” “Sunshine.” Yoongi warns softly, eyes narrowing at Jimin over the top of his menu. Jimin raises his arms in surrender. He understands Yoongi’s hesitance into getting into things now. Jimin’s had plenty of opportunities over the last two weeks in which he could have talked to Yoongi about his worries. And yet here he is, finally finding the need to know things, and he’s chosen to start up a conversation at a public café. “Yeah, okay.” He agrees eyes falling back to his menu. Maybe the fact they are out in public is what’s making him want to finally talk. Ever since that night, that horrible fucking night, Jimin hasn’t left Yoongi’s apartment once. He hadn’t been around anyone besides Yoongi, and the idea of talking to him one on one about such a dark subject is so daunting Jimin. But he doesn’t really know why. “I don't want to know.” He mutters, brain still not taking in the dishes on the menu that his eyes are scanning over. “Except you do.” Yoongi counters. Jimin snaps his head up to look at Yoongi and the flat look on his boyfriend’s face makes his throat feel dry. “I do?” He’s asking rather than agreeing and he feels more like a coward now than he has the entirety of the past two stressful weeks.

Why can’t he make up his fucking mind? “You do.” Yoongi decides for him. Jimin feels disgusted that Yoongi is making his mind up for him even though Jimin had offered him the chance to do so. God, he’s so useless. “No. I don’t.” He snaps back, but he’s having trouble believing his own words. Yoongi narrows his eyes judgmentally. “Do you?” “Maybe?” “Sunshine.” Jimin groans, head flopping onto the table. “Oh god, I don’t know.” The plastic of the table is stick under his cheek, but Jimin doesn’t care. It’s somewhat grounding, and Jimin finds his eyes following after the waitress as she busies herself with work. Yoongi’s hand is stroking gently through his hair, pulling the strands away from his face and soothing Jimin’s tense muscles. “Sunshine.” He begins carefully. “Why wont you talk to me?” It seams like Jimin isn’t the only one who’s finally unlocked all the thoughts they’ve been pushing away. “I don’t know what to say.” Jimin offers truthfully, and the confession makes everything feel even more dizzying and real. More silence surrounds them and Yoongi’s hand stills in Jimin’s hair as he takes in the words. Jimin doesn’t like this silence; it’s the kind of silence he was trying so hard to avoid. It feels somewhat judgmental and somewhat pitying and makes Jimin regret even trying to bring up the conversation. “Forget it, it’s stupid.” Jimin mutters closing his eyes as if it’ll make him disappear. “No.” Yoongi is quick to answer this time. “This is good, we should keep going.” He urges. But Jimin just shrugs, the box slowly closing as Jimin crams all his worries back into it at lightening speed. “You know.” Yoongi begins again. “It’s okay not to want to know.” Jimin slowly opens his eyes as he lets the words sink in. He pulls himself upright and just stares open mouthed at his boyfriend like he’s suddenly growing another head. It’s okay not to want to know. Like it’s just that simple? Like Jimin can just casually turn a blind eye to the fact his boyfriend is essentially a bad guy, a criminal. Like he can just ignore such a big part of Yoongi’s life. How can Jimin call himself Yoongi’s boyfriend if he just simply refused to know the life in which Yoongi leads? Jimin shakes his head, trying to clear it, before leveling Yoongi with a serious look. “It’s apart of your life, I want to know.” He explains briefly, but it’s not everything he’s feeling. Yoongi is blinking at him in surprise and it takes him a good few seconds to gather his thoughts. “That’s sweet of you to say.” He finally says and it sounds a little patronizing. Yoongi must realise this, because he screws up his face in annoyance and clicks his tongue. “What I mean is, you shouldn’t feel like you have to know every little detail if you’re uncomfortable with it.” “But I love you.” Jimin’s voice is so small, whispered into the cool air of the restaurant and he’s not sure whether Yoongi can hear him. It takes a few moments of the two just staring at each other before Yoongi replies. “I know.” He breathes, voice just as small. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with what I do.”

“I’m not.” The confession falls from his mouth like word vomit but Jimin can’t find it in himself to call them back. He’s really not okay with all the bad things Yoongi has done, or will do in the future and it’s the most honest Jimin has been with himself in weeks. But there’s just one big thing that Jimin has been struggling with the most. There’s one single, glaring factor in the equation of Yoongi being a Mafia boss that has Jimin feeling more than just a little sick. He’s seen enough mafia movies to know that death is rampant and as common as breathing. And Jimin is just, not okay with that. Not okay with the fact the person he loves has probably brought suffering and harm to numerous people, and will continue to do so regardless of Jimin’s feelings on the matter. He’s sickened by the thought that the soft boyfriend he loves uncontrollably has killed people. He can barely think about it let alone talk about it. Yoongi hums softly at Jimin’s confession and it’s incredible how understanding he is about all this. It was one of the things that was stopping Jimin from talking to Yoongi. Worried that the man would close off and refuse to listen to Jimin’s fears. He’s certain that Yoongi must be feeling a little hurt by the way Jimin wants to dissociate himself with this part of Yoongi’s life. But it’s not like this is a bad habit that Yoongi is refusing to break. This is his job, his whole life, and Jimin has to find a way to be apart of it to whilst still being comfortable. He’s too head over heels in love with the idiot to cut and run now, even if that maybe the better option. “I would be worried if you said you were okay with all this.” Yoongi elaborates, and his hand is taking up Jimin’s again, playing with his stubby fingers before. He eyes watch the way in which their hands move, and Jimin finds himself watching too despite the serious conversation they’re having. “This part of my life is incredibly dark, incredibly dangerous and a place you really don’t belong too.” Yoongi continues. “And I understand why you would be apprehensive about knowing the in’s an outs.” He chuckles darkly. “Fuck, even I’m unsure about how much I want you to know.” Jimin snaps his eyes up to pin Yoongi with a worried look. “Why?” Yoongi doesn’t remove his eyes from their hands. “I don’t want you to be tainted.” He replies in such a quiet voice, Jimin almost misses it. But he hears it and the words echo around in his head like a ringing bell. He feels like his heart is about to explode from his chest. “Tainted?” He repeats. Yoongi finally looks up at Jimin and there’s nothing but fear and pain flittering in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if you lost the light in you that I love so much. If you lost the ability to see the good in this world from being consumed by all things dark, I’d never forgive myself.” Jimin shucks in a short sharp breath at his boyfriends confession and he wraps his hand around one of Yoongi’s fingers and squeezes tightly. He doesn’t know what to say and yet there are so many thoughts screaming in his head wanting to be heard. Yoongi chuckles, but it’s humorless and dark. “I taint you every day just by touching you.” Jimin bites down on a sob that bubbles his way up his throat at the sudden declaration. He feels his body moving before his brain can catch up with it and he’s rounded the table as quickly as he can. His arms wrap around Yoongi’s shoulders, and he climbs into his boyfriends lap to bury his face in his neck.

“Sunshine?” Yoongi asks, voice full of worry. Jimin’s very much aware that the little amount of people in the restaurant with them are probably watching the strange scene going on by the window table. But Jimin just can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed like he normally would. He’s overwhelmed with too much all at once and he just needs to be close to Yoongi right now. Yoongi is cradling him softly, adapting and accommodating to Jimin’s needs as if doing so is as normal as breathing. The tender action makes Jimin’s hold tighten around his boyfriend’s shoulders, almost like Yoongi will disappear if Jimin lets go. “Talk to me.” Yoongi whispers quietly into Jimin’s hair. Jimin is distantly aware that he’s shaking; body gripping Yoongi so tight that his muscles are screaming. Jimin just shakes his head and buries his face further into Yoongi’s neck. His fingers clench at the back of Yoongi’s shirt so tight it could rip as he’s filled with so much emotion he just can’t put into words right now. This happens sometimes between them. They just can’t seam to find the words or phrases to portray how they’re feeling. So they just, hold each other. Their touch passing everything they can’t put forth with words and the other takes it all greedily and understandingly. Yoongi rocks him gently, whispering tender praises into Jimin’s hair. Not once pressuring him into talking, simply being there, grounding Jimin and letting him know that Yoongi understands. That Yoongi will wait. The waitress brings over their drinks and asks if they’re ready to order. But Jimin never once moves from Yoongi’s lap, or look up to acknowledge her. He can hear Yoongi’s soft voice ordering them food, but Jimin is too caught up in his own head to really hear what’s being said. He’s counting his breaths; the words Yoongi had spoken to him moments ago washing over him like waves on the shore. He can’t stand Yoongi thinking so little of himself, not when Jimin sees the world in the man. Its part of the reason he’s struggling to accept the fact Yoongi is a mafia boss. Because all Jimin knows of Yoongi is a soft and gentle man that treats everything he loves preciously. He can’t comprehend him being dark and merciless. It’s painful to think about. They stay wrapped around each other until the food comes. The waitress still sounds terrified of them, despite the soft scene that’s going on. And it almost makes Jimin want to burst into tears. He wants people to see the kind Yoongi that he knows, the sweat and tender man that treats Jimin like he’s the most precious thing in the world. But he knows people will never see Yoongi like that. And Yoongi will continue to see himself as dark and twisted with only Jimin to show him otherwise. “Do you want me to feed you?” Yoongi teases and Jimin can smell the all too familiar scent of kimchi jjigae, his favorite. “I’m all for you sitting in my lap while we eat, but we’re not at home Sunshine and…” “You don’t taint me.” Jimin finally mumbles into his neck. Yoongi stills, face twisting at an uncomfortable angle to look down at the boy, “What?” Jimin reaches up and places a small kiss at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “You bring me to life everyday. You could never taint me.” Yoongi bumps their foreheads together, eyes closed to let out a long breath he had obviously been holding.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I love you, too.”

_____________

With lighter hearts and fuller bellies, the two of them make their way back to the little house a little after 6pm. Jimin is sure that whatever ‘surprise’ his mother has been working on, must be completed by now considering they’ve been out the house for a good four hours. They didn’t talk much after they ate, but Jimin didn’t mind. They were smiling and joking through their food just like they usually do, but with no ominous storm clouds brewing above them. Yoongi left more money than necessary on their table as they left and the two spent the rest of their time walking along the promenade hands entwined tightly. The humidity clung to their skin and clothes uncomfortably but neither of them complained once, far too content to just be around each other. Busan is definitely shaping up to be the breather that they need. But as they pull up outside the house once again, Jimin’s face drops into a concerned frown. “There are no lights on.” “It’s only just getting dark.” Yoongi justifies. Jimin shakes his head. “No, Eomma starts turning lights on well before it gets dark. And she’s too forgetful to turn them off as she goes.” Yoongi chuckles. “That must be one killer electric bill.” Jimin ignores the quip, throwing himself out of the door a little worriedly. As the two hurry towards the house, Yoongi stays closer to Jimin than usual and there’s a harsh tense to his body that makes Jimin feel cold. Jimin tries his key in the door, but he finds it opens easily and Jimin makes a mental note to scold his mother for not locking it. “It’s like she’s asking to be attacked.” Yoongi chides unhelpfully. Jimin smacks him in the arm. “Stop it.” He warns reaching out to flick on the hallway light. Yoongi grabs his wrist to stop him and places a finger to his lips. Jimin shoots him a confused look, but Yoongi simply motions for Jimin to stay where he is. He flinches as Yoongi pulls a gun from his jacket pocket, but stays still and silent nonetheless. Jimin isn’t sure how long he’s stood there feeling a cold chill run down his back even though the heat of summer is still thick in the air. But as Jimin stares into the darkness of the house, it feels as though time has stopped and he’s waiting for Yoongi to come back and reanimate him. When Yoongi does slip back into the hallway with Jimin, he’s considerably less armed. But there’s a relaxed look on his face that has Jimin sighing in relief. “No ones here.” Yoongi enlightens flicking on the hallway light. Jimin sighs, takes another deep breath just to calm himself, then shouts; “EOMMA!” At the top of his lungs making Yoongi flinch at the sudden noise. There’s a loud bang from the floor above them followed closely by swearing and sniffling noises.

Jimin flings himself upstairs, Yoongi hot on his heels as their footsteps echo loudly through the quiet house. The second floor is just as dark as the ground floor. However, Jimin can see a light on in his bedroom, the door cracked just slightly to let the slither of light strip across the landing. “Eomma?” Jimin calls once more as he opens the door to his bedroom. The intense sound of sniffles and crying catches his ear and Jimin is suddenly switching to worry mode. His eyes land on his mother, who’s pulled her legs against her chest and is resting her chin on her knees and is sobbing softly. There are numerous work tools scattered about the floor and what looks like a box air conditioner lying near the window. Jimin drops to his knees and pulls his crying mother into a tight hug. “What’s wrong?” He asks. She hiccups a few times, wiping her hands across her panda eyes as she tries to calm herself down. “I ruined the surprise.” “What surprise?” Yoongi asks tentatively. He’s hovering in the doorway, clearly not wanting to get in the way. When Park Jisu gets upset, there are very few things that can calm her down. But Jimin knows them all, and has an A grade in handling his mother when she’s emotional. She sniffles through sharp staccato breaths. “That.” Jisu explains pointing to the air conditioner. Jimin turns slightly to see it better, not once loosening his tight grip on his mother. The thing looks pretty beaten up, probably second hand and Jimin can’t really understand why it’s in here. “I didn’t w-want you t-to be h-hot.” Jisu stutters, answering his unspoken question. The tears have stopped but she’s still breathing sharply as her body tries to calm down. Jimin coos, cradling his mother closer in his arms. “And you tried to install it for us?” She nods. “That’s so kind of you.” Jisu scoffs, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “Yeah, but I fucked it up. I think I broke it.” “No you didn’t.” Yoongi explains. His voice comes from behind Jimin now and it makes him jump. He turns to look at his boyfriend, who is crouched over the air conditioner with his fingers running over it. “Whoever sold it to you, didn’t give you all the parts.” Jisu sits up from her son’s hug and looks over to Yoongi with wide watery eyes. “They didn’t?” She asks completely heartbroken. Yoongi nods. “Who sold it to you?” “I bought it from the second hand store in town.” She explains. “They said it’s in perfect working condition. It took me an hour to lug it home too.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “They didn't deliver it for you?” Jimin knows the exact store his mother is referring too. They’ve bought numerous stuff from there over the years, and the little old man that runs it has always been more than willing to deliver everything they buy. Jisu nods pathetically. “New owner.” She explains reading Jimin’s mind again. Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Well this just wont do.” He sighs turning the AC over onto a different side. “I’ll drive you back first thing tomorrow and we’ll get your money back.” Jisu looks worried. “No, no! I don’t want to cause trouble, and you kids wont have any AC for the

night and…” Yoongi smirks. “Who said we aren’t going to install it?” “What?” Jimin and his mother gape. Yoongi chuckles. “I think I can still get this to work even with some missing parts.” He enlightens. “But that still doesn’t mean I won’t be getting your money back.” “That’s stealing.” Jisu hisses. Yoongi shakes his head. “They stole from you first, I’m just going back to get what’s rightfully yours.” Jimin can tell his mother is gearing up for a fight, the sadness evaporated from her and replaced by her righteous sense of justice. But for once, Jimin doesn’t agree with her. He’s more than a little annoyed that someone tried to rip of his gullible mother and he’s very much on board with the fact that Yoongi is going to sort it out. Maybe he’s being a little hypocritical. He’s been wallowing in his realisation of his boyfriend being a big time scary mafia member and causing so much torment between the two of them. And yet here he is, wanting to use Yoongi’s intimidating nature to his advantage. “Actually, I think Yoongi’s right.” Jimin agrees and both his mother and his boyfriend look surprised. “You have the recipe right?” Jisu nods and Jimin smiles softly. “Then I’m sure Yoongi can sort it out, he’s really good at stuff like this.” He alludes. Jisu hums. “Businessmen tend to be.” She agrees and Jimin has to fight down the correction of ‘actually, it’s a mafia thing.’ “It might take me a little while to install this.” Yoongi explains turning the devise over again. “So I’ll get started now.” Jisu nods, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes once more. It does little to clear away the smudged mascara, but it seams to make her feel a little better. She smacks her cheeks lightly twice before pulling herself to her feet. “Then we’ll need beer.” She announces, mood considerably lighter. Yoongi narrows his eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t get any groceries in?” She rolls her eyes. “I said I got the necessities.” “So an AC and beer is classed as necessities?” Yoongi scoffs. “You want beer or not?” Jisu snaps not even bothering to wait for Yoongi’s answer before she’s flittering back downstairs. Jimin knows he’s a little too silent as he watches Yoongi fiddle with the air conditioner. Yoongi is watching him out of the corner of his eye, patiently waiting for Jimin to speak. So he does. He takes in a deep breath and levels Yoongi with a serious expression. “It’s in the mafia job description to be intimidating, right?” Yoongi laughs, crossing his legs in front of him. He rests his elbow on his knee and then places his chin on his palm as he watches Jimin fondly. “I suppose it is, yes.” Jimin nods. “Good, make the asshole suffer.”

“You don’t even need to ask me.” Yoongi responds, eyes softening even more. “B-but you know, that’s all you need to do.” He mumbles and he’s not why he’s saying this, but something is telling him that he needs too. Yoongi furrows his eyebrows a small chuckle spilling past his lips. “Well of course, all they did was sell your mother a faulty AC. What did you think I was going to do, kill them?” And there it is. The main thing Jimin’s been avoiding like the plague for the last two weeks, laid bare in front of them. Spoken by Yoongi so casually, like he’s commenting about the weather. Jimin gulps down past a lump that’s forming in his throat. This is it, isn’t it? This is the ominous thing that’s been hanging around them. It’s here and it’s beginning to rumble uncontrollably and there’s nothing Jimin can do to stop it now. He shrugs slowly, eyes darting down to look at his fingers as they begin fiddling with a screwdriver on the floor. The silence that follows is the most deafening that’s passed between them so far. It’s so thick and far more suffocating than the humid summer heat. “Jimin, look at me.” Yoongi finally speaks and Jimin flinches at the harsh way his name sounds. But he does as he’s told, eyes wide as he locks gazes with his boyfriend. Yoongi’s stare is dark and intense, face set into a smooth emotionless expression. “Did you really think I was going to kill them?” Jimin’s mouth is dry and it feels like there’s something blocking his thoughts and his mouth. He knows what he wants to say, he wants to say that he doesn’t think that, but the idea of murder has been plaguing his brain for weeks now, and he’s tired of it. Ever since that night two weeks ago, in which he saw his boyfriend shoot someone in the head and not even flinch. When everything changed and Jimin realised that the soft whipped sap of a man he fell in love with has blood on his hands. He’s been doing more than just squashing the thought down; he’s been completely ignoring it, not even acknowledging it. Trying so hard not to delve too deep into the topic for fear that it would consume him. Yet now that it’s been brought to the surface, like a scab ripped off a fresh wound, Jimin feels like he’s about to loose everything. “Jimin.” Yoongi presses and all it does is make Jimin curl in on himself a little more. Wanting to hide despite the fact Yoongi’s pinning him in his spot with his gaze. But the way Jimin makes himself smaller isn’t lost on Yoongi and it causes his eyes to harden, jaw set tightly. And the flash of hurt that bursts briefly across his face is not lost on Jimin. But before things can delve any deeper, the bedroom door slams open announcing the return of Jisu. “The beer fairy has arrived.” She announces, waving a six-pack in the air like it’s a magic wand. Jimin slips a smile easily to his lips. It’s small and forced but an easy enough mask to put on to ensure his mother that everything is fine. He turns his gaze away from Yoongi and stretches his small hands out for the beer. “Excellent, now it’s a party.” Jimin tries to sound breezy, but he can hear a stiffness to his voice that isn’t hidden very well. He can feel Yoongi’s eyes burning into the side of his face and the atmosphere is so tense that even his dense mother can feel it. Jisu slumps to sit cross-legged next to her son. “It’ll be more of a party once it’s cooler.” She slips a can out of the pack. “You want this now or after?” She offers to Yoongi. Jimin doesn’t look at his boyfriend, hands busying themselves with slipping a can out for himself. It feels like the air is

thinning in the room, the humid heat squeezing the breath out of Jimin’s lungs. “Probably not the best idea to drown the help with alcohol.” Yoongi replies, his voice is carefully even and it makes Jimin feel sick with guilt. “Else you’ll get shoddy work.” Jisu shrugs, cracking open the can for herself. “Can’t be worse than my handy work.” “To be fair, you weren’t given much of a fair start.” Yoongi chuckles but Jimin can’t hear any humor in his voice. Jisu jeers, “Neither have you and yet you seam stupidly confident that you can get that piece of junk up and working.” “I have a very specific skill set.” Yoongi remarks and Jimin can hear the smirk in his voice even without looking at him. The double meaning isn’t lost on him either and suddenly the awkward humid room is all too much for him. He places the beer back on the floor and stands swiftly to his feet. “I’m going to make you something to eat.” He explains to his mother, but he doesn’t shoot her a glance before leaving the room.

_____________ Jimin can’t bring himself to go back up to his childhood bedroom. He distracts himself by thinking of dishes that he can make with the very little food available to him. But that ends up in him just staring blanking into one of the empty cupboards for 30 minuets. “You know they say a watched cupboard doesn’t boil?” His mother explains and Jimin is so caught up in his own head that her voice makes him jump. She chuckles, but it's a little sadly. “Sorry, Chick.” Jimin shakes his head, shutting the cupboard. “It’s a watched pot.” He corrects. “A watched pot doesn’t boil.” “You might be right there.” She nods, folding her arms across her chest in the doorway. “Food’s going to be a little longer, you haven’t even got enough rice for one portion.” Jimin explains, not looking her way. Jisu doesn’t say anything, but Jimin can hear her bare feet pad softly across the wooden floor over to him. She places a hand over his; effectively stilling his motions, but he still can’t find it in himself to look at her. He’ll break if he does. He’ll melt under her gaze, of which he knows is understandingly gentle, and he’ll spill all of his dark worries onto his poor unsuspecting mother. So he forces another fake smile to his lips heaving out a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you should order something in.” “I already have.” She explains and she sounds a little exasperated. “It’ll be here in about 15 minuets. I’ll probably eat it in the living room watch dramas like a slob and pass out there.” She chuckles softly. Jimin nods, robotic smile unfaltering as his eyes glare at the cupboard again. “Nothing’s changed.” She sighs again, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But it has, hasn’t it.” Jimin’s head snaps round to

finally look at his mother, the motion so fast it makes him feel dizzy. She looks so disappointed in him and it makes Jimin’s guilt double tenfold. He wriggles uncomfortably under his mother’s eyes and he feels ten years old again. “I didn’t raise you to run away from your problems.” She tells him, eyes pinning her son in place and lips pulled into a tight line. “15 minuets.” She repeats. “Then I’m taking my food into the living room and I won’t be coming out till the morning. Do you understand?” “Eomma…” Jimin wines, voice so quite. She narrows her eyes. “Park Jimin, do you understand?” There’s no messing with Park Jisu when she’s serious and Jimin knows this all too well. “I understand.” “Good.” She praises leaning foreword and planting a small kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, Chick.” “Goodnight, Eomma.” He mutters as his mother saunters out of the room. She’s still dressed in her sundress, hair a complete mess and Jimin knows she won’t bother to wash up now till the morning. At least she managed to wash the ruined make up off her face. Jimin runs a hand through his hair and his heart starts hammering a mile a minuet. He’s not ready to deal with this; he’s not ready to talk about this. Everything’s still so fresh; he’s still trying to come to terms with it all. He’s not even sure whether he ever will come to terms with it; the fact his boyfriend is a murderer. The words echo ominously around in his head and Jimin is sure he’s going to be sick this time. He can feel bile rise in his mouth, it’s the first time he’s strung those thoughts together and the first time he’s acknowledged them. The doorbell rings and Jimin stands as still as a statue, ears carefully listening as his mother makes her way to the door. He can hear the man asking who’s car is in the drive way and his mother explains excitedly that it’s her son’s. They talk for a few minuets more whilst exchanging money and Jimin makes a mental note to scold his mother. Because if she’s so close to the delivery man that he knows her name as well as Jimin’s name, than she’s ordering far too much take out. All too soon the door closes and his mother pads back to the living room. A second door closes and it echoes ominously around the all too quiet house. Like the signaling of a storm about to break and Jimin hates it. So he takes three deep breathes, pulling them in slowly, holding them for a moment, and then exhaling them just as slow. His mother’s right, she didn’t raise him to run away from his problems. The walk back up to his bedroom on the second floor feels far too short and before he’s ready, he’s standing in the open doorway to his old bedroom. But Jimin knows he’ll never really be ready for what’s to come. Yoongi is diligently fixing the box ac into the window, long sleeved black shirt pushed up to his elbows to reveal milky white forearms. Yoongi has never been buff, but he’s lean and Jimin knows he’s stronger than he looks. There are so many contrasts between the two of them that Jimin thinks it’s part of their couple charm. Jimin is toned, golden skinned, bubbly and outgoing whereas his boyfriend is lean, milky pale, stoic and hardworking. His arms are veiny; hands calloused from hard work and fingers long and slender in a way that makes Jimin shiver. He holds himself so tall and so confident that to some, it seams like nothing can

touch him. He exudes conviction and authority in a way that Jimin admires, but he’s also strong through the way he’s willing to open up a vulnerable side to share with Jimin. The man touches Jimin tenderly, fearful that Jimin could break. His mouth can move around sweet words just as well as he can artfully cut someone to shred with harsh remarks. “It might not keep us very cool.” Yoongi explains. He never once showed any acknowledgment that he knew Jimin was there – but Jimin isn’t surprised by Yoongi’s excellently honed senses. It’s clearly something he picked up from ‘the job’. “But it’ll make things a little more bearable at least.” He doesn’t turn to look at Jimin and it makes Jimin feel so small. Jimin takes a silent breath before moving his feet across his bedroom floor. His mother hasn’t changed a single thing about the room since he left. The walls are painted an army green and there are embarrassing dinosaur stickers stuck everywhere. They decorated it once whilst Jimin was 7 and going through a dinosaur faze and they never really had the money to change it. Not that Jimin minded; he never really had close friends to invite home for sleepovers or play dates. Yoongi is the first person besides himself and his mother to be in his childhood bedroom and if the situation wasn’t so heavy, the childish room would embarrass Jimin. He sits himself on the small bed, curling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He feels more secure like this; like he’s holding himself together and if he lets go he could break. “We should talk.” He finally says whilst Yoongi continues to fit the AC into the window. The words are late, so incredibly late. But Jimin is hoping that the phrase ‘better late than never’ still has some validity. Yoongi hums, not sparing Jimin a glance. “If you want to.” His words are harsh and Jimin winces. The tinkling of metal as Yoongi works fills the room, hands busy and eyes carefully trained on the task at hand. Jimin deserves it, the cold shoulder. There’s only so much patience one person can have, and Yoongi has been so incredibly tolerant to Jimin’s avoidance. “I –“ Jimin begins, sucking in another deep breath. He realises that even though there’s so much that needs to be said he struggling to string a coherent sentence together. Struggling to know what to do. “I dunno what to say.” It doesn’t even seam like Yoongi is paying him any mind. “Okay.” He answers almost mechanically and it sends a burst of anger through Jimin. “Would you stop that.” He snaps. Yoongi bends down to pick a screwdriver up of the floor. “Stop what?” Jimin huffs, frustration filling his veins. “That.” He elaborates gesturing towards the AC. “Do you want AC, or not?” Yoongi retorts his voice is even and controlled and it rattles Jimin up even more. It’s like he doesn’t care and Jimin feels panic crawling across his skin at the thought that maybe he doesn't. But Jimin is letting his irritation control his actions right now; because if he doesn’t then he’s terrified he’ll start to follow that worrying train of thought. And he’s scared to see where it will lead him. “That’s not important right now.” Jimin snaps and his voice is loud. It’s too loud for the quiet of the old house and it causes Yoongi to finally look at him in surprise.

And then Yoongi is just staring at him. His face purposefully blank, his eyes trained intently on Jimin and it’s so incredibly intimidating. Jimin can’t read him at all and it’s the first time that this has happened. It’s like his boyfriend is wearing a mask. It doesn’t even feel like that’s his boyfriend standing there. “Then talk.” He orders and Jimin suddenly there’s a distance between them, a gap so incredibly large and prominent that it Jimin can feel the tell-tail signs of panic scratching at his lungs. The sudden fight that flared in his blood has gone and he finds himself closing in on himself. “I don’t know what to say.” He repeats and his voice is disgustingly small. Yoongi scoffs harshly. “Then what’s the point of talking?” And then the anger is back, blaring full force in his veins and Jimin’s getting whiplash from the way his emotions are so out of whack. When did his feelings become this hopelessly controlled by Min Yoongi? “Because.” Jimin snaps, voice ringing out loudly in the silence. “Things just can’t go unsaid. We have to talk about this. We just have to. Else I don’t know what will happen if we don’t.” “I think you already know what will happen.” Yoongi retorts quickly and his words are so sharp that it feels like they’re physically piercing Jimin’s skin. “Isn’t that right, Jimin?” He flinches swallowing past his dry throat. “I don't like it when you call me by my name.” “Why?” Yoongi sneers. “That’s your name after all.” “But it’s not your name for me.” Jimin argues and he can feel his anger mixing with the panic that’s slowly flooding through in his veins. Yoongi shakes his head, a dark chuckle coming to his lips. His white blonde hair falls into his eyes as he moves, hands slipping into the pockets of his pants and back hunched over defensively. “Does it bring back bad memories?” Jimin narrows his eyes, arms curling tighter around his legs protectively. “Yes.” He replies confidently albeit small. And there’s the first sign of emotion other than indifference and defense that flashes across Yoongi’s face. The look of hurt is brief, schooled just as quickly as it came, but it feels like a punch to Jimin’s stomach. “So where does that leave us?” Yoongi finally asks after what seams like an eternity of silence. More silence, intimidating mocking silence that’s imbedded itself into their lives in a way that makes it hard to actually move on. The panic has made its way to Jimin’s throat and he can feel it closing. “What do you mean?” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Well, my boyfriend is scared when I call his name. That’s not the grounds for a very healthy relationship, is it?” “When did I say I was scared?” Jimin asks, his nails are digging into his arms and he’s sure they’re leaving crescent shaped marks. “Don’t.” Yoongi snaps.

“Don’t what?” “Lie to me again.” Jimin feels like things are slipping away and he can’t find a grip on it to salvage it. “When did I lie to you?” “Two weeks ago, when I shot a man in the head and you told me you weren’t scared of me.” Yoongi supplies. Jimin feels like his heart is ready to fall right out of his ass. “I didn’t lie.” “I can’t do this, Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is quiet and sharp and they pierce straight through Jimin’s chest. Yoongi moves towards the door, AC long forgotten and Jimin can no longer hold back the panic that’s been building in his veins. Because he knows that if Yoongi walks out that door, then that’s it. It’s all over. He leaps from the bed; foot stepping on something sharp on the floor, but he barely feels it as his adrenaline floods his system. He reaches out for Yoongi’s wrist in a desperate attempt to stop him, to keep him. Yoongi tries to snatch his hand out of Jimin’s grip, but he holds on for dear life, hands shaking and tears prickling at his eyes. “Let go.” Yoongi orders. Jimin shakes his head. “If you walk out that door then you’ll never come back.” Jimin shouts and it’s so loud as it rings around the room. “And you can’t, you can’t leave, you c-can’t you can’t…” He’s vaguely aware that his breathing is coming out harsher and harder than before and he’s pretty sure he’s falling into a panic attack. “Jimi- “ Yoongi begins. “No.” Jimin shouts again, eyes screwed shut to stop the tears falling and grip tightening around Yoongi’s wrist. “No, no, no…” He starts chanting and each repeat of the word gets airier until he’s completely struggling to pull air through his lungs and is only mouthing the word. He feels his knees give out without warning and he tries to brace himself for the hard slam into the wooden floor. But it never comes. Arms slip their way around his waist, holding him securely and Jimin is distantly aware that he’s lost his grip on Yoongi’s wrist. Yoongi hushes him gently as he slowly lowers them both to the floor. They kneel in front of each other, Yoongi’s arms still protectively wrapped around Jimin’s small frame as Jimin struggles to find the air he so desperately needs. “Okay, okay, it’s alright, I got you.” Yoongi reassures and Jimin feels the tears burst past his eyes unable to hold them back anymore. They’ve been building and building for two weeks straight and he’s just not strong enough to stop them anymore. His mouth is open in a silent cry of pain and he bends over to wrap his arms around his stomach. He feels like he’s about to fall apart at the seams, everything hurts and it’s all too much for him to bare. All he can do is cry and he feels incredibly pathetic for it. “Shit.” Yoongi breathes through a panicked voice. His arms slip from around Jimin and snake their way to cup Jimin’s cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Sunshine.”

The words seam to snap Jimin back and he shucks a harsh much needed breath through his lips. He coughs and splutters and his lungs greedily consume as much air as he can possibly gather. Then, suddenly, the room is filled with the sounds of Jimin’s loud uncontrollable sobs. His tears flow almost endless down his cheeks and Yoongi’s there catching every single one. Yoongi’s thumbs move in mechanical motions across Jimin’s cheeks, swiping away the tears as they fall and all it does is make Jimin cry harder. “No, please, stop crying.” Yoongi begs and he sounds so desperate. “You don’t deserve to be crying. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jimin’s head is raised to Yoongi’s eye level, but Jimin is too consumed by his breakdown that he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. He feels Yoongi’s lips pressing into his wet cheeks, his forehead, the corner of his wailing mouth and onto his eyelids. Yoongi’s lips are chapped and warm against Jimin’s overheating skin but they never cease while Jimin continues to cry. “Sunshine, Sunshine.” Yoongi presses the name into his skin, as if re-writing all his wrongs. It makes Jimin’s heart hurt so painfully he just wants to claw at it. He feels like a child. He’s crying so hard that’s he’s surprised he hasn’t run out of tears already. He feels so fragile, so small and so weak. No one told him that love was going to be this hard. Yoongi’s lips never cease pressing tenderly into Jimin’s skin. With each kiss, Jimin gradually feels himself calming down as his sobs simmer into hiccups. Yoongi’s thumbs continue to swipe away the tears from Jimin’s cheeks, and the tears lesson with each kiss. Soon there’s nothing but quiet sniffles in the room and Jimin can feel his head clearing. Yoongi’s hands move from his face to push Jimin’s hair back and wipe away any tears that he missed. “I wont go anywhere, I promise. We’ll talk and I wont leave this room until we do. Just please, please, don’t cry Sunshine.” It’s the first time Jimin has heard such worry and fear mixed through Yoongi’s voice. All his confidence completely gone and it both scares Jimin and soothes him. He nods, arms loosening their tight hold across his stomach and he finally opens his eyes. But he isn’t ready for the sight that greets him when he does. Because when he sees Yoongi, he sees glistening wet tears streaming down his face. The great and composed Min Yoongi is crying, and even though he caught every single one of Jimin’s tears his still fell without comfort. Jimin’s hands reach out shakily to Yoongi’s face. His fingers wipe away at the tears that are falling and Yoongi flinches a little in shock. Like the man hadn’t even realised he had been crying. And that just breaks Jimin’s heart even more. He slips closer to Yoongi, hands cupping his face and eyes imploring Yoongi not to cry, not to feel sad. He just can’t bear to see it. So instead, Jimin’s turn to press his lips into Yoongi’s skin, returning the love that Yoongi had just shown him. Jimin’s lips travel across Yoongi’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose and his eyelids. Over and over again until his skin is no longer wet with tears. It’s only then that he finally presses his lips to Yoongi’s. It’s chaste and brief but it holds all the emotion that Jimin has to offer Yoongi. He pulls away; feeling so raw, like an exposed nerve, but Yoongi’s lips chase him. He passes his own feelings to Jimin and they’re just as raw and heartfelt that Jimin finds himself greedily consuming them, and his senses are overpowered by everything Yoongi. Suddenly chaste kisses just aren’t enough and there’s an urgent need flaring through Jimin’s veins. It’s clearly Yoongi feels the same as his lips move against Jimin’s a little harsher, a little more desperately. Yoongi’s tongue swipes out imploringly across Jimin’s bottom lip and Jimin’s all too willing to open up for Yoongi.

Jimin finds himself seated comfortably in Yoongi’s lap whilst Yoongi is still kneeling on the floor. Jimin’s legs encase his thighs and his hands are pulling tightly in his hair as everything else melts around them. Yoongi’s hands slide up Jimin’s sides, across his back to grip at the nape of his neck. He angles Jimin’s head in a way that deepens the kiss and causes Jimin to moan breathlessly. Yoongi swallows it down, lips bruising against Jimin’s and tongue licking deep into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin can't stop the whimpers that fall between their lips and his hips grind down on Yoongi’s crotch causing the man to groan. They pull away breathlessly, Yoongi biting into Jimin’s swollen bottom lip before liking over it soothingly. Jimin moans and suddenly it’s all too hot, and they’re both too clothed for Jimin’s liking. His hands slip down from Yoongi’s hair to tug at the hem of Yoongi’s shirt imploringly. Yoongi doesn’t say a word as he peels of both his top in one movement, before doing the same with Jimin’s shirts. Yoongi’s eyes gaze appreciatively over the expanse of Jimin’s golden skin. His hands smooth over it in a needy rush to touch, lips reaching out to enclose around one of his nipples. Jimin lets out a high keen, back arching into the touch and hand coming up to cover his mouth. He’s panting uncontrollably while Yoongi’s expert tongue flicks and sucks relentlessly. Yoongi’s hands are still gliding over skin and it leaves a scorching trail in its wake that leaves Jimin feeling heady. “Yoongi, Yoongi.” Jimin pants breathlessly. It’s not enough, he needs more and he grinds his hips against Yoongi’s crotch again relishing in the delicious friction it brings. Yoongi groans, mouth leaving Jimin’s nipple to place a hot kiss against Jimin’s neck. “It’s okay, I got you.” He breathes into Jimin’s skin causing the younger to shiver. Yoongi is pushing Jimin back against the floor; legs still encasing Yoongi’s thighs as Yoongi trails open-mouthed kisses down Jimin’s chest. It makes Jimin squirm; the teasing touches are so incredibly hot against his skin and yet are not enough all at the same time. He’s whining at Yoongi’s touch, back arching of the floor and legs falling apart instinctively. Yoongi’s hands deftly undo Jimin’s pants, tongue dipping into the ridges of Jimin’s faded abs. With Jimin’s help, they slip his pants and boxers off until Jimin is lying bare before Yoongi like a meal ready for him to eat. There’s nothing but primal need and desperation between them, the need to feel each other, to be with each other, is all that matters. Yoongi’s hands never once leave Jimin’s skin and Jimin is so thankful for it, the touch keeping him from loosing his mind. Jimin is so hard that it hurts, he’s hyper sensitive and his cock is leaking pre come across his lower stomach. He needs Yoongi now. He needs to feel that intimate closeness to Yoongi that can only come from being filled by him. Jimin needs Yoongi to understand just how much he loves him, and right now words just aren’t enough to show it. He can feel the desperate need from Yoongi too through the way he caresses Jimin like he’s scared he’s about to disappear. His eyes are running over Jimin so carefully, etching every detail about him into his mind. His eyes are heavy with want and love and awe and it makes Jimin writhe. Yoongi hushes him again. Gripping one hand tightly into Jimin’s hips, pinning him to the floor whilst the other hand retrieves a bottle of lube from Yoongi’s satchel. Jimin’s not sure why the hell Yoongi even thought to bring lube to his mother’s house. But right now, he’s more than thankful he did. Yoongi’s attention is back on Jimin quickly, and Jimin’s legs spread wider for him causing Yoongi

to growl appreciatively. He bends down, lube momentarily forgotten, to place a chaste kiss to the tip of Jimin’s red cock. Jimin gasps at finally, finally having Yoongi touch him where he needs it most and Jimin tangles his hands in Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi licks a fat strip from the base of Jimin’s dick to the head, tongue flicking into the slit and causing Jimin to let out a high whimper. Jimin pulls one of his hands from Yoongi’s hair up to his mouth again in an attempt to muffle the uncontrollable sounds that spill from him. But as Yoongi suckles on the tip of his dick Jimin knows there’s no way he can be quiet. Yoongi takes as much of Jimin’s length into his mouth as possible and Jimin’s responding moan is high pitched and breathy against his hand. Yoongi hums appreciatively at the sound, tongue flat against Jimin’s dick as he sucks expertly. Jimin can feel a slicked up finger circling around his entrance and he gasps. He doesn't know when or how Yoongi managed to coat his fingers in lube, but Jimin doesn’t care because he’s on edge at the feeling, trying to push his hips back against the finger to feel more. But Yoongi is still holding him at the hip, fingers pushing bruises into Jimin’s skin and Jimin feels light headed from the burning need for more. Yoongi is quick to placate him, the urgency in the room taking over and he pushes his finger past Jimin’s rim as he pops his lips off Jimin’s dick. Jimin throws his head back at the intrusion; body too sensitive and he subconsciously spreads his legs wider for Yoongi. “Good boy.” Yoongi praises rubbing soothingly into the jut of Jimin’s hip. A shiver racks fiercely through Jimin’s body and a quivering breath pulls through his swollen lips. The engulfing heat of the humid room is clinging to their skin, sweat beading at Yoongi’s forehead and trickling down Jimin’s neck. But it’s so, so perfect. As Yoongi slowly works his finger in and out of Jimin, he leans down and licks up the side of Jimin’s neck to nibble teasingly on his earlobe. Jimin’s mouth is hanging open wide as his breathless moans fill the humid room. Yoongi pulls away to briefly watch Jimin come undone beneath him, eyes so dark and hooded as they hold Jimin’s gaze and Jimin can feel himself melting under Yoongi. Jimin adjusts quickly to the one finger, wines turning impatient in his need for more. But Yoongi if quick to pacify Jimin’s needy moans. He has a second finger rubbing at Jimin’s entrance before Jimin can even thinking about asking for it. His fingers can play Jimin’s body like an instrument, knowing exactly what makes his lover tick and quick to understand what he needs. As Yoongi pushes two fingers inside, Jimin hisses at the initial sting, breathing a little harshly through his teeth. Yoongi’s hand continues rubbing soothing circles into Jimin’s hips, fingers moving shallowly inside him whilst he adjusts. It doesn’t take long for the sting to melt away into pleasure and Yoongi’s fingers pump faster, scissoring him thoroughly and expertly. Jimin feels like his head is spinning, his whole body feels like it’s burning. His desire and need for Yoongi is so incredibly strong that it makes him feel lost. He can feel tears pricking at his eyes again, and Yoongi is there hushing and cooing at him, fingers crooking inside him until he finds what he’s looking for. Yoongi finally moves his hand from Jimin’s hip to tangle in the hand by Jimin’s mouth. He laces their fingers together in order to pin their hands to the floor above Jimin’s head. Then Yoongi’s lips are on Jimin’s once more, ready to swallow down the loud yelp of pleasure that bubbles its way up Jimin’s throat, as soon as Yoongi’s fingers locate Jimin’s prostate. Jimin feeds his breathy whines into Yoongi’s mouth, their kiss all tongue and teeth as Yoongi

mercilessly strokes his fingers against Jimin’s prostate. Jimin can feel himself melting into a trembling mess under Yoongi’s ministrations. There’s a building pleasure burning in the pit of his belly and Jimin finds himself chasing it, but it’s just not enough. It’s not what he needs, and Jimin just can’t take it anymore. “Please, please-“ He begs into Yoongi’s mouth. His free hand finds itself tangled in Yoongi’s hair just to ground him. Yoongi breaks free from their kiss to look down at Jimin with a wrecked expression. Yoongi’s fingers slow to a leisurely speed, and Jimin sobs at the change of pace. Yoongi slips his hand from Jimin’s and reaches for the hand in his hair. He brings it to his lips, kissing it gently once before resting it above Jimin’s head with his other hand. Jimin doesn’t need to hear the words from Yoongi’s lips to know he’s to keep his hands there. Yoongi’s lips find themselves at his hips, pressing bruising kisses to the skin there, claiming Jimin in his favorite of ways. Marring the gold skin with blossoming purples and reds, teasingly avoiding his aching dick and making Jimin writhe. Yoongi’s hand is there at his hip again, pinning Jimin to the floor once more as his lips continue to paint his skin. It causes as a good distraction whilst Yoongi slips in a third finger, Jimin barely feeling the sting as the burning sensation of Yoongi’s lips on his skin consumes him. Yoongi crooks the three fingers inside him, stroking at Jimin’s velvety walls and it takes all of Jimin’s self restraint not to reach down and touch Yoongi. Cries tumble from Jimin’s swollen lips, tears clinging to his eyelashes and sweat licking down his back. He feels like he’s suffocating, drowning in Yoongi’s touch and yet it’s still not enough it’s overwhelming and impossibly not enough. But he knows that Yoongi is more than willing to give him more. “Please, please, please.” Jimin begs again, breath harsh and voice airy through his moans. Yoongi pulls one of Jimin’s legs up, lips trailing along his thigh to leave more bruising kisses in his wake. All the while the three fingers inside Jimin continue their harsh pace, opening Jimin up so easily and building that burning pleasure in Jimin’s stomach closer to it’s max. “Yoongi, please, I need – I can’t, I – “ Jimin is a blabbering mess, words unable to form coherently through the need to be utterly consumed by Yoongi. “I know, I know.” Yoongi coos and he slips his fingers out of Jimin. He watches mesmerized as Jimin’s hole clenches around nothing and the boy cries at the sudden emptiness. His fingers wrap around Jimin’s thigh, rubbing soothing circles in his skin while he fiddles with the button on his pants. But Jimin can’t wait, he needs this, he needs to feel Yoongi now or else he might just explode. Jimin sits up right, fingers deftly unbuttoning Yoongi’s pants and pushing them past the swell of Yoongi’s ass along with his boxers. Yoongi’s dick springs free, just as painfully hard as Jimin’s and an involuntary whimper of want bubbles up Jimin’s throat. Yoongi reaches for the lube, pouring out an ample amount into his palm. He hisses when he finally wraps his hand around his neglected cock and Jimin swallows thickly in anticipation. He leans back on his elbows, watching Yoongi appreciatively, basking in the little needy grunts that tumble out of Yoongi’s open mouth.

Yoongi’s face is pinched in pleasure, eyes closed tight as he slicks up his dick. Jimin’s teeth sink into his kiss bitten lip, eyes hooded and dick twitching in eagerness as he watches. He’s so needy, more needy than usual – they both are and it makes Jimin incredibly impatient. There’s a frightening edge to their need, to their desperation – like they’re barely clinging on to each other. Fearful they’re about to loose everything. Yoongi’s eyes finally open to fall on Jimin and Jimin runs his hands down his thighs to spread them as wide as possible in a silent invitation for Yoongi. Yoongi situates himself between Jimin’s legs wordlessly, but his intense gaze holds so much raw emotion that words aren’t needed. Yoongi needs to feel Jimin just as much as Jimin needs to feel Yoongi and the fact is suffocating yet comforting all at the same time. With tender movements, Yoongi lines himself up with Jimin’s hole, once again pinning Jimin’s hips to the floor as he does. With an agonizingly slow move, Yoongi pushes in past Jimin’s rim and Jimin sees stars. Yoongi’s dick is far thicker than his fingers and the stretch burns – but oh does it burn so good. “Yes.” Jimin gasps, breath practically punched out of him as Yoongi sinks his length into him. Jimin’s back is arching off the floor, hands scratching at the floorboards to try and ground himself. Yoongi bottoms out with a deep groan of his own and the two stay locked like that, breathes panting heavily into the muggy summer air while they adjust. They stay blissfully still, Jimin relishing in the feeling of being so full and Yoongi relishing in the feeling of Jimin’s tight heat. But they both bask in the utter ecstasy of being connected – of being one. Yoongi reaches out for Jimin’s hands again, tangling their fingers together and pinning them above his head. It’s such a gentle moment in comparison to the urgent need that had been fueling them only moments before. Yoongi trails kisses across Jimin’s collarbones, his neck, his cheeks and lastly against his lips. “Yoongi…” Jimin breathes into his lover’s mouth. The plea causes the gentle tender spell over them to break. Smashing like fragile glass and suddenly the desperate urge to fuck and to feel each other overtakes them again. Yoongi sets a brutal pace immediately, slamming his hips into Jimin and swallowing down the incessantly loud moans that tumble out of Jimin’s mouth. His grip on Yoongi’s hands is so tight, nails digging crescent bruises into his milky skin. He wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist; urging him to go deeper, fill him more completely. The sound of panting breaths and skin slapping against skin fills the room alongside Jimin’s high pitch moans and Yoongi’s deep grunts. The fire in Jimin’s belly is ignited again, burning so intensely it’s sending his head spinning with the need to be pushed over the edge. Yoongi’s hips are relentless, but it’s not enough and soon Yoongi’s hands are detangling from Jimin’s and hooking under his thighs. He pushes Jimin’s leg up against Jimin’s chest and the new angle means Yoongi’s can presses right into the bundle of nerves inside Jimin he’d been looking for. With a loud cry Jimin throws his head back in pleasure and Yoongi mercilessly attacks Jimin’s prostate, practically bending Jimin in half as he does. Jimin can feel himself slipping away, unable to starve off the burning pleasure in his belly, far to desperate for release.

“Too much, s’too much.” Jimin babbles, unable to make coherent thoughts let alone words. His body is utterly and completely overcome with Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Yoongi is panting desperately, fingers pressing bruises into Jimin’s thighs in a way that will leave marks for days after. Yoongi’s so deep now that Jimin knows he’ll be feeling the echoes of it long after tonight. “Yoongi, please, I can’t- can’t- “ Jimin wails and he can feel the tears that were once clinging at his eyelashes slip down his cheeks. “I know, I know.” Yoongi soothes, but his hips never relent in his ruthless pace. “Let go, Sunshine. Let go.” He coos before leaning down and claiming Jimin’s lips once more in a sloppy, messy kiss. There’s no finesse to it, but it holds so much emotion in it that it finally pushes Jimin over the edge. Jimin’s body pulls tight like a rubber band before suddenly snapping and he comes with a muffled cry fed into Yoongi’s mouth. He feels hot come rope across his chest, his thighs and probably coating Yoongi’s milky skin too. His hole clenches tight around Yoongi, and it’s Yoongi’s undoing, pushing him over the edge too. He spills himself into Jimin with a long groan, and the warm cum that coats his insides has Jimin shivering pleasantly. He feels so full, so incredibly full and needed and loved. Yoongi’s hands let go of Jimin’s thigh and his leg slumps lifelessly to the floor. Yoongi falls foreword onto his elbows to brace the side of Jimin’s head, careful not to squash Jimin under his weight. The two breathe heavily as they come down from their high, skin sticky with sweat and cum and bodies feeling spent and weak. Yoongi slumps his head onto Jimin’s shoulder and presses gentle kisses into the skin there. It’s a welcomed feeling and Jimin wants to move his hands up to stroke through Yoongi’s hair, but he feels too exhausted. All too soon, Jimin starts to feel Yoongi pulling out of him and he lets out a high, urgently needy wine at the prospect of loosing the feeling of being full, of them being connected. Yoongi coos at him gently, lips pressing softly into Jimin’s forehead. “I know, I know.” He repeats again. “But we can’t talk properly with me still inside you.” Jimin wants to cry again, to wine and beg like a needy brat but the rational side of him knows that Yoongi is right. He takes a deep shuddering breath, readying himself for the oncoming unwanted feeling of emptiness. “Okay.” He whispers and Yoongi slowly pulls out. Jimin still whimpers pathetically, hole clenched around nothing as cum leaks uncomfortably out of his hole. “Yoongi, its – “ “I know, I’m sorry baby, but you did so well. You’re so good for me.” He praises and the words pull shivers across Jimin’s skin. “It wont stay inside.” Jimin can’t hide the disappointment in his voice and it pulls an understanding look to Yoongi’s face. Yoongi hushes him, pushing hair away from his face. “It’s okay.“ Jimin wines and Yoongi chuckles. “Do you want me to clean it up?” Jimin shakes his head. “No, not yet.” “I honestly didn’t think we’d be having sex in your mothers house.” He runs his fingers through the mess pooling out of Jimin’s hole and Jimin flinches from the oversensitivity.

Jimin wines again, hands reaching out in grabby motions for Yoongi. Yoongi is quick to lie down next to Jimin and pull the boy close to him. “It’s okay, I’m still here.” He reassures and Jimin sighs contentedly as he’s pulled flush against Yoongi’s hot skin. His head rests in the crock of Yoongi’s neck and he can feel Yoongi’s breaths fanning through his hair. They lie in silence for a while as the events of the last few hours sink in and Jimin’s once post orgasmic bliss is replaced by utter mortification. He’d planned to finally have a serious conversation with Yoongi, and here they are lying naked on the floor of his childhood bedroom, covered in cum and sweat. He groans, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. “God, what the fuck is wrong with us.” Yoongi sighs, fingers trailing lightly up and down Jimin’s back. “A lot of things, apparently.” “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Jimin comments. “I should think so.” Yoongi muses lightly. “I only brought the lube as a joke.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Not just that.” He clarifies. “Any of this.” Yoongi places a small reassuring kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, silently urging him to continue. “It was supposed to be a break from, well, everything. A relaxing week where I showed you around my hometown. But here we are one day in and we’ve fought more times in the last couple of hours than we have the past year.” “It’s understandable, a lot has happened over the last few weeks and it’s a little overwhelming.” Yoongi soothes. “This is the first time we’ve really approached the subject properly, even if we did just fight and fuck it all out in the open.” Jimin nods in agreement letting a silence fall about the room that’s laced with fearful anticipation. “I really thought I had lost you there.” Yoongi sighs, lips pressing once more into Jimin’s hair. “So did I.” He explains. “I’ve been watching you artfully avoid the topic for weeks now. Watch you try and act like everything’s okay even though I can see the conflict and fear hanging around you like a rain cloud.” His voice is carefully smooth. “I was prepared to loose you, I’ve been ready for it ever since that night.” “I didn’t want to think about it.” Jimin admits and he feels guiltier than he thinks he should. “Why?” Yoongi asks in confusion. “Because it’s not a particularly pleasant subject.” Jimin justifies and the fact that it isn’t obvious to Yoongi makes the whole situation ten times worse. “I’d rather not be plagued with horrible thoughts that my boyfriend is potentially a…” Jimin’s voice catches in his throat on the word and his mouth snaps shut with a click of his teeth. It’s silent for just a beat as the unfinished sentence hangs in the air and Jimin is tense in Yoongi’s hold. “A murderer.” Yoongi finishes, voice ringing confidently. Jimin flinches. “Are you?” he asks in a small voice. Yoongi doesn’t even pause to think about it. “Yes.” Jimin pulls a deep, hiccupped breath into his lungs as he tries to keep the bubbling panic at bay. His hands curl into fists against Yoongi’s chest and he tries to keep his breath even.

Yoongi has stopped trailing his fingers across Jimin’s skin, keeping purposefully still so Jimin can have a moment to breath. “Talk to me.” Yoongi urges. “Why do you do it?” Jimin finally asks, too many thoughts and words flying round in his head to form a better question. But right now he just needs to understand Yoongi’s reasoning’s for his actions. “Because if I don’t kill people, then they’ll kill me.” Yoongi explains. “It’s survival.” “Do you remember them?” Jimin asks again, pulling on random thoughts in his head as he tries to process this situation. Of course he knew Yoongi had killed people, he watched him do so not long ago after all. But Jimin had falsely led himself into thinking that time was a one off – something done out of self-defense, out of protecting Jimin. He knew those that belonged in gangs and the mafia killed people – but that was other people; that couldn’t be his Yoongi. “Remember who?” Yoongi queries. Jimin gulps down the lump in his throat. “The people that you, you know…” killed. “No.” Yoongi answers and his words hurt Jimin more than he expected. “Oh.” He replies and feels his body curling in on himself. Yoongi’s hold tightens on him; panic flaring in him at Jimin’s closed of posture. “No stop that, keep talking.” Yoongi implores anxiously. “I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s hard.” Jimin defends. Yoongi nods. “But we have to keep talking. Talking is what’s going to make this easier.” “But it wont make it better, will it?” Yoongi deliberates his answer for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he thinks. “Maybe not right away, no.” He finally admits. “But eventually, over time, it will.” “How do you know?” Jimin whispers. “I feel so lost, so confused and so overwhelmed right now, I’m not sure which way is up.” “Of course you are. You found out that your boyfriend of two years is actually a big time mafia boss. That’s pretty scary shit, Sunshine.” Yoongi chuckles weakly. Jimin sighs, turning to get more comfortable in Yoongi’s hold and he can feel cum dribbling down his thighs. He grimaces before burying his head in Yoongi’s chest. “I feel sticky.” He grumbles. Yoongi chuckles softly. “Maybe we should clean up a bit?” He offers. Jimin nods but makes no move to stand up. “Are you feeling at least a little better?” Yoongi asks tentatively. Jimin shuts his eyes and inhales the warm sandalwood scent of his boyfriend. He supposes he is, even if it’s just a little bit. He feels like they’ve only scratched the surface of everything they need to talk about. But he’s opened up that box he trapped all his worries inside, which is a step in the right direction at least. “Yeah, we’ve made good progress.” Jimin replies with a small smirk. “Even if it has been through a pretty unconventional way.” He nips at Yoongi’s neck teasingly. “But right now, I just want a

shower.” Yoongi hums in understanding. “I suppose we can put this on hold.” He agrees. “So long as you promise me something.” Jimin tilts his head up to look Yoongi in the eye. He’s look is gentle but firm and Jimin can’t find it in himself to look away. “What?” Jimin asks. “Promise me you won’t run away again.” Yoongi explains and Jimin feels guilt swimming in his stomach. “Because I don’t know if I can handle you running away from me again. I think I might just break.” Jimin is quick to agree, head nodding like a bobble head. He’s done running away, he’s done being a coward. He’s had his time to gather his thoughts and come to terms with things. Now’s the time for him to get his shit together, to work on the problems they have so that they can move foreword in the right direction. Because through all his fears and his worries, he knows one thing is for certain. He loves Yoongi, and he’s willing to work on this so that they can be together. And its clear Yoongi is too. “I won’t run anymore.” Jimin implores. Yoongi searches Jimin’s eyes for a few minuets for any signs his lover is lying. But when he finds none he smiles wide and plants a kiss to Jimin’s swollen lips. “Lets get you cleaned up then.” He announces slapping Jimin’s ass for good measure. It causes more cum to leak out and Jimin wines uncomfortably. “Don’t be such a dick.” Yoongi chuckles. “C’mon, I’ll wash your hair for you.” And Jimin finds himself already melting at the prospects of being spoilt by his boyfriend.

____________ Jimin finds himself waking up early the next morning feeling uncomfortably hot. He’s tangled on his childhood bed with Yoongi in a mess of limbs and blankets. His boyfriend is sleeping peacefully, arms wrapped tightly around Jimin’s torso and head pillowed on his stomach. Jimin smiles fondly at the site; he can tell Yoongi’s uncomfortable in the humid summer heat that’s filled the room. There’s a pinch in between his eyebrows and his lips are pulled into a thin pout. But Yoongi is stubborn when it comes to his sleep so Jimin knows that he’ll obstinately ignore the humidity in favour of sleeping. On any other day, Jimin would be more than content to just crawl back into Yoongi’s space and continue sleeping with him. But seeing as they’d gotten busy with other things last night, the AC still isn’t working and Jimin feels like he could melt at any minuet. He places a kiss to the pinch between Yoongi’s eyebrows before easily slipping his way out of Yoongi’s grip. Yoongi barely stirs, arms instinctively curling around the pillow and nuzzling himself back into sleep. Jimin stifles his giggles at his boyfriend’s soft ways before hunting around in his bag for something to wear. He slips on a white T and jean shorts before pushing his hair back into the black cap Yoongi had been wearing yesterday. His hair had dried into a fluffy nest of locks during the night, as the two were too tired to dry off properly after their shower and simply collapsed into bed. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he’s honestly pretty impressed that the sight isn’t worse. His skin is puffy, red blotches on his cheeks where the tears had irritated the skin and his lips are red

raw and chapped. He’s got bags under his eyes, exhaustion clearly hitting him like a freight train after weeks of endless worrying and stress. His clothes are already clinging to him uncomfortably in the humidity and he debates showering again, but the pipes are noisy and he really doesn’t want to wake the rest of the house up yet. He’s surprised his mother slept through their noisy escapades last night – but Jimin’s really trying not to think about that. The house is quiet, creaking in the heat as Jimin makes his way downstairs. All the windows are still open in a ditched attempt to circulate some cooler air through the old building, but it’s fruitless as always. He’s not really sure what time it is exactly, but he’s certain it’s early seeing as out of the three of them in this house, Jimin is the only early riser. The door to the living room is still shut, so he assumes his mother is still sleeping. He debates for a moment knocking and seeing if she’s awake, but he’s still a little raw from the events of last night. He’s feeling kind of sleepy, or maybe dazed is the right word? His eyes are heavy and he feels like he’s looking through a clear film, because everything’s a little fuzzy in his vision. He fears in his weakened state he’d blab uncontrollably to his confident, and he just can’t do that to her. He sneaks his way into the kitchen, stomach rumbling at the prospect of food after skipping out on dinner yesterday. But as he opens one of the kitchen cupboards, and notices that it’s empty save for coffee, he abandons his hope for something to eat. If he remembers right, when he was numbly looking through the kitchen last night, his mother didn’t even have enough rice for one portion. He decides on coffee anyway, hands mechanically going through the procedure whilst his mind mulls over the events of last night. He can feel a headache brewing in his temples as a million thoughts buzz around his head a mile a minuet. He’s thankful he managed to stop acting like such a coward and face Yoongi. He’s calm for the first time in two weeks, more like himself in fact, and Jimin feels all his pent up stress evaporating out of his muscles. He takes his steaming coffee out into the garden, the patio doors still thrown open wide for last night, and he makes a mental note to sit his mother down and teach her the importance of a locked door. His mother has taken the sheet off the garden table and chairs, cleaned them thoroughly like she does every summer, and left six different bouquets on it in varying colours. Jimin can tell they’re all flowers from the garden arranged haphazardly in a way that reflects his mother well – unorganized but colourful. He sighs as he relaxed back into one of the chairs; the metal is hot against his skin but not scorching just yet. The sun is blindingly brilliant in the sky and Jimin regrets not bringing his sunglasses out with him. So instead, he curls his feet under himself, rests the back of his head on the back of the chair and shuts his eyes. Basking in the sun like it’s all the energy he needs in the world. Though he’s feeling clearer, he knows there’s still so much that needs to be talked about. They’ve barely scratched the surface of all the shit that’s recently been thrown into their lives. It’s almost like their back at square one; on their first couple of dates getting to know each other. Those first few months were some of Jimin’s fondest times throughout their relationship, just getting to know each other and sharing all that they were between them. But now that they’ve been dating over a year, he loves the how in sync they are. How they can move effortless about each other because they know each other better than they know themselves. Well, at least they did. Jimin is back to square one, discovering a whole new side to his boyfriend that he wouldn't in his wildest dreams think possible. It’s unbalanced and unfair in a way – that Yoongi knows all Jimin’s secrets and yet Jimin only knows a façade. He’s got a long way to go until he can be comfortable in their relationship again, but he’s willing to try. Actually he’s more than willing to try, he’s adamant to try and succeed because he can’t imagine his life without Yoongi.

He knows that Yoongi will at least be patient with him while Jimin tries to comprehend this big change and try and fit himself into the darker aspects of Yoongi’s life. He’s already shown more than enough patience towards Jimin and it makes Jimin want to try even harder. To push himself further and prove to the both of them that he can do this. That he can face whatever is thrown at him so long as Yoongi is with him. But there’s still a dark nauseous feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach. Though he knows he wants to be apart of Yoongi’s life through the good and the bad, there are some limits to Jimin’s acceptance. They need ground rules for what Jimin does and doesn’t want to be apart off and he needs to understand that Yoongi will respect that. He’s pretty certain he will, Yoongi is considerably understanding at the best of times, but there’s no way things can be left up to assumptions anymore. Not when Jimin is learning about a whole new dark and menacing world. Surprisingly, Jimin is only left to his thoughts for about half an hour before he feels arms wrap around his shoulders and a kiss planted to his temple. “Good morning.” Yoongi rasps and Jimin turns his face to plant his own kiss at Yoongi’s cheek. “Good morning.” Jimin greets. He opens his eyes to see that his boyfriend is still carrying that pout he ha whilst sleeping and his eyes are scrunched shut against the sun. Rejecting it whole-heartedly as he always does. “Do you want coffee?” Jimin offers, he hasn’t touched his own cup and it’s too hot outside for the thing to cool down so he’s more than willing to give it to Yoongi. But the man simply shakes his head, nuzzling further into Jimin’s hair like a needy kitten. Jimin giggles, placing a hand on the side of Yoongi’s face and stoking it soothingly. “Still a little sleepy?” “It’s hot.” He grumbles. “You’ll get hotter clinging to me like this.” Jimin teasingly scolds, but Yoongi just clings on tighter. “You weren’t there.” Yoongi mumbles. “When I woke up.” Jimin’s eyes blow wide; it’s not rare for Yoongi to be a little whiny when he first wakes up. But it hadn’t even crossed his mind that maybe Yoongi would be a little clingier in the face of the events of last night. He’s always seen Yoongi as strong, his rock through everything and sometimes Jimin is ashamed to admit he misses the little signs that Yoongi gives off when he needs attention. He places another kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, it’s a little stubbly but it’s perfect nonetheless. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jimin promises, fingers soothing through Yoongi’s hair. Yoongi hums in satisfaction lingering just a little longer in Jimin’s embrace before slipping himself into the garden chair next to Jimin’s. “What time is it?” Jimin shrugs. “Early?” Yoongi runs a hand through his fluffy blonde locks. “Fuck.” He moans before sinking deeper into his chair. “I knew there was a reason I don’t get up before 11, too bright.” He complains using his hand to shelter his face from the blistering sun. Yoongi looks almost delicate under the harsh rays of the sun. His milky skin is glowing, his pale hair shimmers with gold and there’s an irritated look to his face that Jimin just wants kiss away. He’s used to seeing Yoongi dressed to impressed, suits and shirts but this morning he’s old wearing sweats and a white T and Jimin thinks he looks perfect. He loves every version of Yoongi; from the clingy kitten he is in the mornings that is only for Jimin’s eyes, to the feared protective CEO that the world knows all too well. He’s certain he has enough

space in his heart to love the dark man he’s come to learn his boyfriend is as well. Because if Yoongi can accept Jimin for all his flaws, then Jimin can do the same in return. But there’s one matter of which has been taunting Jimin at the back of his mind since it was brought up the night before. There’s no way he can ignore it this time, no way he can run from it when the words play over and over in Jimin’s mind like a painful movie. “Yoongi.” Jimin begins, placing his cup on the table and turning his full attention to his boyfriend. “You said I lied.” His voice is weak, but he pushes through it. “About saying I wasn’t scared of you.” Yoongi doesn’t reply, but Jimin can feel him stiffen in his chair. He can understand how this is hard for Yoongi. To put so much faith and trust and love in a person, just to have them turn round and be terrified of who you are is heartbreaking. But he needs Yoongi to understand that’s just not the case with them. It could never be the case, not in a million years. So Jimin slips from his chair and knees in between his boyfriend’s legs, arms reaching out and grabs the side of his face. He tilts Yoongi’s head so that they’re facing each other, but Yoongi’s eyes are still stubbornly closed. “Look at me.” Jimin demands and there’s a firm and confident ring to his voice. Yoongi takes a moment, brain clearly clicking over too many thoughts at once. But then he does, he opens his eyes and Jimin is met with a gaze that is more than hurt, it’s terrified. Jimin wants to kiss away the pain on Yoongi’s face. But he can’t yet, not until he makes Yoongi see. “I meant what I said.” He begins firmly. “I’m not scared of you.” Yoongi looks beyond wrecked and Jimin is certain he’s trying to fight back a whimper. “It’s hard for me to believe that.” He whispers and his voice is horse like he’s ready to cry. Jimin takes a deep steadying breath, forcing himself to not break, to keep going. It’s his turn to be strong for the both of them. Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared of the things you do, of the life you lead.” He elaborates and he’s thankful Yoongi is listening. Thankful that he’s understanding, because it means they have a chance. “I’m scared that one day you’ll leave the house and never come back and I won’t know what happened to you. I’m scared you could loose yourself in this darkness and I wont be able to bring you back from it. I’m scared of being involved in this double life you lead and I’m scared of what could happen to me if any of your enemies get ahold of me.” Yoongi flinches at his words, clearly triggering something painful within him that Jimin doesn’t want to dwell on. Instead he soothes his thumbs across the apples of Yoongi’s cheeks, takes another deep breath to steady himself and then presses on imploringly. “But I am in no way, scared of you.” He promises. “And more than anything right now, I need you to understand that. Because I love you so much, Min Yoongi, that it physically hurts me.” Jimin clarifies. “Yes, I’m not okay with what you do, and I never will be. I will never be able to understand why you kill people, even if it is for self-defense. I will forever feel guilt on your behalf for all those lives that you have taken, because I love you so, so fucking much.” Jimin’s voice breaks on a whimper and he shucks in a harsh breath to stop the oncoming tears. “Sunshine…” Yoongi begins hands reaching out to touch. Jimin shakes his head sharply and Yoongi freezes in his movement. “So you may not feel anything for those people you’ve killed and all those people you are probably still going to kill. But I will. Because we’re a team, Yoongi, you’re the other half of me. It’s you and me, okay? So I will love you unconditionally and irrevocably. But I will never accept murder, whether the death is deserving or not I don't care. I will not accept you playing God. And even though I know there is no way for

me to stop you – I will not be apart of it.” Yoongi is nodding his head desperately, like a lost puppy and it makes him look so weak and vulnerable. Jimin can feel his touch on Yoongi’s face weaken, but Yoongi is there, pressing Jimin’s warm palms into his face again. He’s squeezing his own fingers around Jimin’s it an attempt to keep them both grounded in the moment. “And I would never expect you to be a part of that.” Yoongi adds, his face is still vulnerable but his voice is ringing clear. “You are my all, Park Jimin, and I would do everything in my power and beyond to protect you from anything and everything. Including myself.” Jimin can feel his heart thumping loudly and excitingly in his chest and he’s sure Yoongi can hear it, can feel it. The amount of love that’s swelling his heart is unbearable and is suffocating Jimin in the best of ways. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “You don’t need to protect me from you.” Jimin whispers like it’s a secret just for them. He’s smiling at Yoongi, it’s small but its genuine and it lifts the worried expression from Yoongi’s face. “Do you know why?” Yoongi is mirroring his smile. “Why?” “Because you’ll take care of me.” Jimin illuminates. The air is suddenly filled with Yoongi’s chuckles; his lips pulling into that gummy smile that Jimin so loves. It melts Jimin’s heart and fills him with so much love and adoration that Jimin feels like he could burst. He leaning down into Jimin’s space, kissing his mouth deeply and tenderly. “That’s right.” Yoongi breathes into Jimin’s mouth. “I’ll take care of you, Sunshine.” They’ve still got a long way to go, but suddenly it doesn’t seam all that heavy or all that tiring to Jimin. Because they’ll work it out together.

Chapter End Notes

Look a flashback chapter~~ o(≧∇≦o) This is a heavy chapter, but also the shit I know everyone's been waiting for since I started this (/^▽^)/ I know I haven't gone into much detail about how Jimin found out about Yoongi's mafia ways, but good things come and all that fu fu fu ( ƅ° °)ƅ Okay, so, this smut scene was the B A N E of my life whilst writing this chapter. It k i l l e d me to read over this and edit this, I cringed through the whole thing. I'm so bad at smut and I'm sorry in advance if this didn't come across well, or it seams jokey. It's meant to be heartfelt I swear! (╥_╥) I'm working on it! I'll do my best to get better! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)‫̑̑ و‬ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND KUDOS, YOU'RE ALL ANGELS AND I WANT TO WRAP YOU ALL IN LOVE AND FEED YOU CHOCOS! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ Come talk to me on twitter ~ hmu♥ ~ It makes my day to scream with you about beautiful Kpop boys (°◡°♡).:｡

It's Been a Long Ride Without You Chapter Summary

If there's one thing Taehyung is known for, it's making a good entrance. That and making sure all his friends get their shit together.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

Saturday 03:16am How did this happen? There was only one sure way the night was going to go. With Namjoon and Seokjin finally talking again, Taehyung banging the cute bartender for the second time in a row, Hoseok showing everyone up in the club with his dance moves and Jimin snuggled up in bed with Yoongi at home once the night was over. But nothing remotely close to what was planned for this evening has actually happened. “You’re so fucking pretty.” The man slurs. It’s not in the way a drunk would slur, but more in a way a man who’s been knocked in the mouth one too many times would. His hands are pulling Jimin’s face this way and that, like he’s appraising an animal in a pet shop that he wants to buy. Jimin jerks his head away, his stomach is churning and he can’t help but let a shiver of disgust wrack through his body. He pulls at the restraints on his arms and ankles – a last ditch attempt at trying to pry them loose. But it’s no use, they’re really fucking tight and without something sharp, Jimin isn’t moving anytime soon. “People are going to pay so much for you, Princess.” The man smirks this time and Jimin can see he’s missing half of his teeth. The typical cream replaced by gaudy disgusting metal teeth instead. There’s a cut on his lip that looks fresh, not bleeding but still a tender pink like it happened within the last 24 hours. Jimin shudders just thinking about how it got there – he really, really doesn’t want to know. “Don’t touch me.” Jimin mumbles and there’s no way he can hide the pure fear lacing his voice. He’s still scared shitless after all these years of slowly being shown the dark underbelly of Seoul. He wants to be strong, to tell the guy to go fuck a cactus and prove that the husband of Seoul’s biggest Mafia boss is not to be messed with. The man titters like he would a moaning child. “You scared, Princess?” “No.” Jimin snaps back quickly, a little too quickly and the man can tell. “I’m serious, I’m not scared of you! It’s you who should be scared.” He’s stepping around Jimin now, circling like a vulture on prey and it causes all the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck to stand on end. “Oh? And why’s that?” He muses, playing with his food like a lion and a gazelle.

“Because when my husband finds you, he’ll kill you.” His mouth is dry and his voice is small but he tries to put as much venom into his words as he can. Even if it’s just for show. Because right now, Jimin’s not sure whether he believes in his own words. He knows for a certain fact that if Yoongi gets a hold of this guy, he’s going to have the man begging for death before he finally kills him. But there’s that big fat ‘if’ that’s floating around Jimin’s head. Because he’s not really sure how he ended up in this dingy apartment, so he’s more than a little worried that none of his friends know where he is either. Not that Yoongi would stop looking for him. He’d tear Korea to shreds and die before he stopped looking for Jimin. The man chuckles, low and snarkily, and it sends horrible shivers through Jimin’s body again. “Husband, huh?” He muses, beady eyes spying Jimin’s silver wedding band. Jimin subconsciously clenches his left hand into the tightest of fists and glares as angrily as he can. He’s pretty certain that right now he looks like a stubborn, terrified kitten, but he’s gotta focus on something to keep himself from shaking. Because if he’s not channeling all his energy into being angry, then he’s going to panic, and he doesn’t want to give this fucker the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to Jimin. As he suspected, however, the glare doesn’t seam to deter the man. His smirk is sharp and menacing, eyes still observing Jimin’s wedding band like he’s ready to fucking devour it. Jimin clenches his first tighter, but all those days at the gym with Hoseok clearly hasn’t done anything in Jimin’s favour. As the man lazily reaches out and prizes Jimin’s hand open like he’s just pealed back the skin of an orange. “No!” Jimin shouts, all venom lost and replaced by a wobble in his voice and a plea in his tone. He’s wiggling desperately in the chair again, fingers fighting against the man’s strength to close up once more and protect his wedding ring. “Stop! Please!” He begs once more. But Jimin knows by now that the underbelly scum of South Korea don’t give two shits about sentimental things. And they never give into victim’s pleas. With a deep chuckle, the wedding band is snatched of his finger and Jimin is left staring at the bare finger, mouth agape. He hasn’t taken that ring off once since Yoongi slipped it on him 10 months ago. He feels naked, like something of him is missing. But more importantly he feels dirty, like he’s betraying Yoongi, and he can feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “The sun.” The man reads the inscription on the ring through a taunting laugh. Jimin feels bile and anger rise in the back of his throat. He wants to rip the man’s tongue out, scream at the top of his lungs and throw up all at the same time. His spiral into pure panic is being made ten times worse by the fact some grubby fuck is tainting his wedding band with their fat fingers. And it’s driving Jimin insane because he can’t do anything. “P-please, please!” Jimin tries again, voice so small and hands pulling painfully at the restraints on his wrists. The man snickers. “Your new owner wont take too kindly to the fact you’re married.” He scoffs at the word, flicking the ring in the air like a coin. He watches the silver band catch on the dim light, twirling gracefully in the air over and over again. The man catches it and flicks it up again, repeating the action like he’s counting down for something. And it stirs an ominous feeling in the pit of Jimin’s stomach. “N-no, please don’t…” Jimin isn’t sure what he’s begging for anymore. His heart is racing 50 million miles a minuet in his chest, there are unshed tears prickling at his eyes and all he can focus on is his precious wedding band. The promise made between him and Yoongi and the most valuable thing in

his life besides Yoongi himself. The man chuckles again, flipping the ring one more time into the air. But this time he doesn’t catch it. It falls with a light tinkle against the wooden flooring of the apartment and Jimin’s eyes never once leave it’s decent. He pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth, knowing what’s going to happen before it even does. He doesn’t want to believe it, he wants this all to be a bad dream and he’ll wake up to Yoongi hushing him gently. But as he watches the man lift his overly large foot up, eyes never once leaving Jimin’s desperately pleading face, Jimin knows that there’s no escape from this nightmare. He can feel his lungs tightening, his eyes so wide they could pop right out of his head and his breaths are shallow. “Bye bye, husband-ssi.” The man taunts before slamming his foot down so hard onto the ring, the sound of his foot hitting the floor echoes around the room. But through the loud stomp, Jimin can hear the sickening crack of the band as it snaps under the pressure of the man’s foot. He feels his heart shatter at the same time, but his mind is still racing to fully comprehend what’s just happened. It feels like time has stopped, Jimin the only thing that’s moving as the devastating reality that his wedding band has just been ripped from him and broken sinks in. And then he bursts into uncontrollably loud, ugly tears.

____________ Thursday 3:15am There has never been a single occasion in the four years that they have been together, where Jimin has felt unsafe in Yoongi’s apartment. He’s pretty fucking sure it’s more heavily guarded and protected than the DMZ and security only doubled once Jimin moved in. But as he’s urgently awoken with a hand clamped down over his mouth, Jimin thinks there’s a first time for everything. Jimin’s eyes go wide as he takes in the stony face of his husband. The gun he keeps under his pillow is clasped tightly in his hand, one finger raised to his mouth in a silent motion for Jimin to be quiet. Jimin feels his blood go cold but nods nonetheless as Yoongi slips his hand away from Jimin’s mouth. “Someone’s in the main room.” Yoongi whispers so quietly, Jimin is reading his lips more than hearing his voice. Jimin gulps down a lump that’s formed in the back of his throat. “It can’t be anyone dangerous, can it?” He asks more than a little hopefully. Yoongi narrows his eyes. “It shouldn’t be.” He explains dryly. “Else I’m going on a purge.” Jimin shivers and wraps his arms around himself. Their home has always been a safe place, a place they’ve never had to worry about before. Jimin kind of wants to throw a tantrum at the fact their safe place has been violated, but at the same time there’s a horrible feeling crawling it’s way down the back of his neck that makes him want to run. Yoongi grips the top of his arm in a vice like hold and maneuvers them both off the bed. “Stay close

to me, but stay behind me.” Jimin wines as quietly as he can. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to hide?” He pleads; he really doesn’t want to see any more violence. For the last three months he’s been plagued with nothing but nightmares of his husband bleeding out in a dirty side street of Seoul. There really isn’t much more his weak mind can take. Yoongi shakes his head harshly. “I don’t know how many of them there are. You’re staying right where I can see you.” There’s no arguing with him, even if Jimin really doesn’t want to see more people being shot. Jimin places his free hand delicately over the wound in Yoongi’s shoulder. It’s been three months and yet Jimin still sees Yoongi flinching every now and then when he thinks Jimin’s not looking. Considering the nights are getting warmer as they move into spring, the two have been going to bed with less and less clothing. Not that either of them are complaining; it’s less work taking everything off after all. Tonight, Yoongi hadn’t even opted for a shirt and thusly Jimin has a clear view of the deep circular scar on his shoulder. He kisses it carefully and Yoongi’s muscles tense under his lips. It’s a warning for Yoongi to be careful, Jimin not wanting to actually speak the words for fear it’ll jinx everything. When he moves away, he slowly and daintily traces the marred flesh with his fingers, shivering at the memory of how it came to be there. He really doesn’t want a repeat of that incident. Jimin thinks he’ll break beyond compare if it happens again. Yoongi watches him with soft eyes before hardening them again. “What are you going to do?” He demands, voice impossibly quiet. There’s no time for tender touches and loving moments, Jimin knows that. But he can’t let Yoongi loose into an unknown situation without at least doing something to try and keep him calm. Jimin sighs, trying to steal his nerves but his stomach is doing summersaults. “Stay close and stay behind you.” Jimin explains and Yoongi nods in satisfaction. If it were down to Jimin, he’d be hiding in their wardrobe by now. But they’ve woken up in the harsh reality of Yoongi’s world. And Jimin doesn’t really have much say here because his knowledge of it is seriously lacking. He’s at least somewhat content in the knowledge that there was literally nothing he could have done to avoid the situation this time. But it still has him feeling jittery. “Deep breaths.” Yoongi reminds, eyes softening just for a moment. “I wont let anything happen to you.” Jimin knows that, that’s a given. But he’s more worried for the people who dared to come into their apartment and of course, he’s more worried about Yoongi’s safety. Jimin used to see Yoongi as untouchable and impenetrable, a hard calculative man that couldn’t be killed easily. It’s horrible being shoved into the harsh reality that Yoongi is more human than both Jimin and Yoongi think. Yoongi moves as quietly and stealthily as a shadow. He presses his feet cautiously into the floor, knowing exactly which floorboards squeak and Jimin finds himself following in his footsteps. He opens their bedroom door inch by inch just incase the hinges decide tonight’s the night they’re going to be noisy. But with a sigh of relief, it opens noiselessly and Jimin makes a mental note not to make fun of his husband for constantly oiling the door hinges. Jimin tucks himself as closely to Yoongi as possible, head snapping back every now and then to make sure they’re not being followed. It takes all his self-control not to grip for dear life onto Yoongi’s shirt. But the Mafia boss needs the freedom to move, of which he won’t get if Jimin is clinging to him like a koala.

As they make their way gingerly down the hallway, Jimin can see that there’s a faint glow coming from the kitchen area. There’s also a distinctive sound of glass clinking and packets rustling that Jimin can’t find as anything but odd in their current situation. Because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the intruder is going through their fridge. Of which should really have been the first light bulb moment to the fact that this isn’t a normal intruder. But Jimin is so jacked up on adrenaline; all of the minuet details are getting over looked in favour of his raging heart. Yoongi has explained to Jimin numerous times that having the upper hand is the key to winning anything. In Yoongi’s world, everyone is constantly trying to one up each other and forever battling to be ahead of the game. But if it were Jimin, he’d have called the cops by now and either smacked the intruder around the head with something heavy, or hidden until he was rescued. But Yoongi can’t work like that. It’s uncertain which gangs have bought off which cops so they’re a dead end for help. And hiding means you’re just openly making yourself a sitting target. As, according to Yoongi, the worn out saying of ‘you can run but you can’t hide’ holds immense validity in the mafia world. Jimin is pretty certain if you asked any gangster, they would agree that knocking an intruder out is a pain in the ass move. Sure it’s a quick and easy way to assure victory, but it’s childish and unpolished. It means you have to wait around for them to come too so they can be interrogated. Whereas if you just catch them off guard and bind them somehow, they’ll be awake enough to answer all your questions. His husband is a precise and cleanly cut battle strategist. Jimin doesn’t know how he does it, but he has a plan already thought up in advance for every single problem that pops up, before it even does. Jimin chalks it down to Yoongi just constantly being prepared for the worst, but the man literally plans the way he brushes his teeth. Tonight is no different, it’s a little more of an important issue than teeth brushing, so Jimin’s not all that surprised his husband knows exactly what he’s doing. Yoongi moves through the apartment with hard eyes that make Jimin think he’s seeing the place like a blueprint rather than their home. Their bedroom is at the end of the hallway, right next to the main bathroom, and Yoongi opens every door along the way to the kitchen, speedily shoving his gun through first before ducking his head in to check. He leaves all the doors open in their wake, including the un-suit in the main guest room. Jimin is hyper aware to every single noise that echoes through the apartment and the fact they haven’t come across anyone yet is eating away at his nerves. He can still hear the shuffling around of food from their fridge and every now and then there’s a low hum that Jimin is sure sounds like a Big Bang song. Jimin just wants Yoongi to storm the kitchen, attack the obvious intruder rather than waist their time hunting through empty rooms looking for people that might be there. But Yoongi has a plan, and Jimin can’t say shit about it. After what feels like an eternity of snooping through their own home, they finally arrive at the end of the hallway. The two of them pushed up against the corner of the wall not daring to look out into their main room just yet. Jimin, upon instructed by his husband, waits anxiously behind the safety of the wall, the kitchen just behind it, and the hungry intruder is even louder now that they’re so close. Jimin can see that all the lights in the main room are on, and if he had a clearer head this would be his second light bulb moment. Because intruders don’t make themselves at home like this, surly? Meanwhile, Yoongi is watching the intruder through the reflection of the kitchen in their large windows. His eyes are hard, mouth set into a grimace that could probably turn a person to stone. He clicks off the safety of the gun, waits for two beats and then he’s gone from Jimin’s side, throwing himself around the corner with the gun outstretched in his good arm. Jimin can just see his husband’s profile, but he’s positive that Yoongi is holding a precise dead shot aim at something vital on the

intruder’s body. “Alright fucker, who sent you.” Yoongi spits venomously and it makes Jimin flinch. Yoongi clearly did his job well in getting the upper hand in the situation. Because the sound of food falling with a loud thump onto their kitchen floor and a loud squawk of shock is the only response Yoongi gets from the intruder. Seokjin would murder them if he found out such good food has been wasted. “Holy shit!” The intruder exclaims and Jimin can hear the sound of the fridge door slamming a little too harshly into their counter top. But whether or not their fridge is okay is not what’s important to Jimin right now. Right now, Jimin’s face is splitting into the biggest smile he can muster as he finds his fears and worries cleansed by the all so familiar voice of their intruder. He jumps out from his position behind the wall, Yoongi jumping a little at Jimin’s sudden appearance. “Sunshine, I said wai…” “TAE TAE!” Jimin bellows so loudly that it has Yoongi flinching back in surprise. Taehyung – looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights – has his hands raised high above his head and mouth hung open like a fish. He looks more like how Jimin remembers him; with old grey sweats and a mustard yellow long sleeved T that’s been hacked to bits, probably by his own hands. His hair isn’t grey anymore; it’s blonde and cut shorter so that no hair is flopping in his eyes. He’s not wearing make-up either, but his golden skin still looks like it’s glowing and Jimin makes a note to steal his face cream at some point. All in all, his ‘model cool points’ that Jimin had awarded him (from seeing him dressed so handsomely when he snuck home three months ago) have been revoked. He’s gone back to his devil may care university slob attire, even going so far as to switch out his contacts for his horn-rimmed specs. They’re slipping down his nose and there’s a piece of cheese sticking out of his gaping mouth and it warms Jimin’s heart. He doesn’t even care anymore that there’s at least a good fourth of their fridge’s contents scattered across the floor around Taehyung’s bare feet. Because Taehyung is home. Jimin is practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. “You’re back!” He exclaims. “What the fuck, are you doing here?” Yoongi demands. He’s recovered from the fact his plan isn’t going the way he had hoped. Eyes glaring daggers into Taehyung, gun still aimed at his head as if daring Taehyung to move. Jimin’s is a little proud that his loud-mouthed best friend is keeping a tight lip in the face of a real gun. Both he and Yoongi have wondered numerous times whether Taehyung would be able to keep himself alive in a situation like this. And just when Jimin is certain that he doesn’t have to worry about his best friend in the face of death, Taehyung shouts; “Yoongi-hyung is naked!” And the glaring fact that Taehyung runs his mouth more than a running tap, and without even realising he’s doing it, flares up the worry in the back of Jimin’s mind again. “Taehyung.” Yoongi warns, hands tightening irritatedly around his gun. Jimin rolls his eyes at his stiff husband. “Honey, lower your gun.” Taehyung is chewing the cheeses in his mouth without using his hands. Like he’s trying really hard to swallow the evidence. “Not until I know what he’s doing here.” Yoongi replies with a little wine in his voice that has Jimin trying not to giggle. Yoongi doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. So more often than not, random variables like Kim Taehyung and Park Jisu are factors he just can’t deal with any other way

than with irritation. Taehyung gulps down the cheese, hands still raised. “I have a key!” He exclaims in utter indignation. Yoongi clicks his tongue gun still not lowering it. “It’s 3 in the fucking morning, Taehyung.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, arms lowering just an inch now that his initial shock is wearing off. “I have a key.” He repeats again. “Key’s let you inside.” He adds like it’s a perfectly normal thing that Taehyung let himself into their apartment at 3am to eat cheese. It takes Jimin placing a hand on the gun for Yoongi to finally lower it. “I thought you weren’t back from Tokyo till next week?” Jimin’s smile is unfaltering, even as he clicks the safety back on the gun for Yoongi. His husband muttering angry curses under his breath all the while. Taehyung’s expression morphs quicker than that of a kaleidoscope and his exasperation is replaced with a boxy grin. “Got back three hours ago.” He announces, bending down to swipe another slice of cheese out the packet. “Of course, I had to come here first.” “Fucking ‘course you did.” Yoongi spits but it does nothing to deter the happy mood that’s filled the kitchen. Jimin giggles and bounds across the kitchen. He makes a running jump at his best friend, easily avoiding the scattered food. “I missed you!” He exclaims. Taehyung already has his arms thrown wide for Jimin, box grin pulling even bigger across his face. “Me too, Chim.” He responds with an oomph as Jimin collides into his side. Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders and legs around his waist and clings on for dear life. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.” Jimin hums into the soothing smell of Taehyung’s Gucci perfume and strawberry shampoo. “Yeah, I’m doing everything I can.” He comments and Taehyung makes an understanding noise. Yoongi growls dragging the attention of the reunited friends back to him. “Why did Lee even let you up?” Taehyung huffs, reshuffling Jimin’s weight on his hip so that his arms aren’t trapped by his sides. “Obviously because I’m on the list.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “I didn’t put you on the list.” And here it comes, the first of many fights that the Daegu boys will hash out now that Taehyung’s back. But unlike the way Yoongi and his mother pick at each other, Jimin’s not all that concerned about how Yoongi and his best friend pick at each other. Most of the time their bickering is playful – Jimin’s only had to get involved maybe once or twice to break them up. “Oh, I know.” Taehyung replies smugly. “I put myself on the list the day Jiminie moved in.” Yoongi snaps his head to Jimin. “Did you know about this?” Jimin nods, head resting on Taehyung’s shoulder. He shoots his husband the most casual of looks. “Well yeah, I live here too. It’s only fair my friends are allowed in of their own accord.” He can see Yoongi battling within himself as to whether he should be annoyed he wasn’t told, or whether he should respect Jimin’s actions. “Yeah, chill hyung.” Taehyung shoots adding fuel to the fire. Jimin can see Yoongi ultimately deciding to go with the annoyed route in this situation and he lets out a small sigh in preparation for

the impending fight. Yoongi clicks his tongue, hands wrapped so tightly around his gun it looks like he’s going to snap it in half. “It’s practically been a year. A year and you didn’t think to tell me?” “Was there a need too?” Taehyung asks on Jimin’s behalf. “Jin-hyung’s on the list too.” He’s waggling his eyebrows in a clear attempt to wind Yoongi up more. “You gonna get mad over that too?” Yoongi gruffs folding his arms. “Seokjin is fine, he brings food.” Taehyung looks dramatically offended. “I could bring you food.” “Please, Taetae, even I know that’s a stretch.” Jimin giggles gesturing to the mess of food by his feet. Taehyung looks down at the mess like it’s the first time he’s seeing it. Head cocked to the side in awe as his eyes scan through the food. It almost looks like he’s feeling bad about ruining most of their groceries, almost. Because then Taehyung is shrugging with a menacing smirk pulling at his lips. “I resent that.” He announces dramatically before pushing Jimin off him like the boy is riddled with lice. Jimin lets out a little yelp, thrown off guard by Taehyung’s sudden movements, and he clatters to the floor on top of a packet of grapes with as much elegance as an elephant. “All you bring is chaos.” Yoongi clarifies, not even needing to provide evidence as Jimin removes the squashed grapes from under his ass. Taehyung has his hands on his hips. “You’re just salty that you didn’t get to see me last time I was here because you were knocked out cold.” “Pah-lease.” Yoongi scoffs. “You claim you came to help Sunshine out, and yet all I heard was how you fucked with everything in the apartment.” Taehyung has this grin on his face, one that Jimin has seen many times before and one that leaves cold pin pricks on the back of his neck. It's the smile that comes right before Taehyung purposefully does something stupid. “How’d you like your moustache?” He asks and Jimin is jumping to his feet like his ass has just been burnt. Yoongi’s eyebrows are furrowed so deeply, they look as though they’re about to swallow his eyes. “What moustache?” “SO!” Jimin shouts a little louder than necessary, but it does the trick in drawing both men’s attention to him. “Did your agency set you up with a place, Tae Tae?” Taehyung just stares and Jimin and blinks for a while, cogs working in his head as he processes the sudden change of conversation. He nods once, “Well, yeah.” He supplies, swiping an apple of the floor. He gives it a once over, rubs it on his shirt and then bites into it like it’s nothing. Yoongi’s face is twisted with disgust. “That’s nasty.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, mouthful of apple chomping nosily. “Come on, this place is cleaner than a hospital.” “So where’s your new place?” Jimin asks, silencing another pointless argument.

Taehyung shrugs. “Dunno.” Yoongi groans, shoving his gun into the waistband of his sweats. “No, no, no.” He decides before anything else more is said. “We just managed to get rid of our last round of guest, I’m not looking to host anymore.” “Yoongi.” Jimin reasons. “We’re not gonna let him live out on the streets.” Yoongi has his arms thrown in the air in irritation. “The kid could literally talk his way out of a paper bag, he’d be fine.” Taehyung looks like the cat that’s caught the canary. “It wont be ready for three weeks.” He explains and Jimin can see that colour is draining from his husbands face. “Fuck no.” Yoongi snaps quickly. Taehyung is laughing, deep and long and loud as he flops his upper body over Jimin’s back. “Now, don’t be like that, Roomie.” He winks and Jimin is certain he sees his husbands sanity snap.

_____________ Thursday 08:01 "So, I hear Taehyung’s back?” Hoseok has a Cheshire cat smile plastered across his face as he drives the two of them to work. It’s a considerably warm day for March, the sun is blindingly brilliant with few clouds to cover up is vibrancy. Jimin has the window down, enjoying the cool breeze that passes into the car as they slip through the busy Seoul traffic. He’s stopped wearing suit jackets to work now, a long sleeved shirt and slacks decent enough in the warming spring days. He’s dreading the moment summer hits them like a tone of bricks and he has to switch out long sleeves for short sleeves. Because if there’s one thing Jimin can’t stand, it’s the humidity. “He’s staying in the spare room while he gets his new place set up.” Jimin explains and there’s a huge smile splitting his face as he does. It’s been there since 3am this morning when his puppy of a best friend snuck into the house, and he can’t see it leaving for the foreseeable future. Hoseok scoffs. “I bet hyung is loving that.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi loves Tae.” He counters, catching a glimpse of himself in the car’s side mirror. His hair is looking considerably less tamed than it did when he left the apartment this morning. He is back to black, keeping the pink only while Yoongi was recovering. Turns out his husband liked the colour more than just a little, and Jimin didn’t have the heart to change it whilst the man was still injured. He runs his hands through it, trying his best to make himself look presentable, a feat that clearly can’t be done whilst the wind is blowing into his face. “Of course.” Hoseok mock agrees. “Yoongi-hyung’s love for Tae is right up there with his love of

having his finger nails removed with tweezers.” Jimin shivers at the metaphor and suddenly the car’s a little too cold for his liking. “That was an unnecessarily vivid comparison.” Hoseok is laughing, running his hand through Jimin’s hair apologetically. Jimin tries his hardest not to smack his hyung in the arm for messing up his hair again. “He’s tough love, remember?” Jimin explains. “He may not show it, but he really does care for Tae.” Hoseok hums, mulling over Jimin’s explanation. “I got a bet going with Joon, right. I think Hyung lasts three days tops, before he throws something of Tae’s out the window.” Hoseok sniggers. “Joonie thinks it’ll be less time than that.” Jimin finds himself hissing out a laugh. “You two are hyenas.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. His hair’s getting a little bit too long. It’s kissing his eyelashes and the man’s constantly flicking his head to get the strands out of the way. The chestnut brown is fading back into his natural black, and although Jimin likes the brown on his hyung, Jung Hoseok with black hair is a sight for sore eyes. “Must be nice though, to have your best friend back.” Hoseok says through a soft smile. Taehyung has that affect on people; they just smile along with his antics and think nothing more of it. He’s a social butterfly and has the ability to bring out the best in people without even trying. Kim Taehyung has always been an injection of happiness and laughter to Jimin. “You have no idea.” Jimin practically squeals in excitement. “It’ll be like we’re back in college.” Jimin and Taehyung’s college days are probably some of the best memories Jimin has. They were roommates from the first day of their first year up until the last day of Jimin’s graduating year. Jimin was happy to wake up every day and almost didn’t want to sleep for fear off missing out on the fun. Everyday was an adventure, even if it was spent lounging around watching dramas on the couch, Jimin loved every minuet of it. He cried the day he moved in with Yoongi, mainly for the fact he didn’t get to wake up to Taehyung loudly humming along to Chet Baker. Technically, Taehyung is still working his way through college part time, even though it feels like eons ago since Jimin graduated. He did the first two years full time alongside Jimin, while working part time as a freelance model, shooting odd jobs around Seoul. But by the end of their second year, Taehyung had been scouted by at least 4 different companies each one fighting tooth and nail for him. Needless to say, the prospects of large paychecks and the rest of his college career paid for him out weighed the cons. ‘Face it Chim, they pay me more a month then I would ever hope to get in my lifetime.’ Jimin thought that maybe now Taehyung didn’t have to live of rationed cup ramen to survive maybe he’d put some money away. Save up to buy a place of his own or help out his family back in Daegu. But it was clearly too much for Jimin to wish, and his best friend proceeded to blow said incredible pay check on everything Gucci the boy could get his hands on. Including a pair of hideous furry Gucci slippers that Jimin had found by his front door this morning. “Let’s be real. The two of you will end up in the same bed and you’ll have a grumpy husband on your hands.” Hoseok clarifies. “That only happened one time.” Jimin argues.

“Sure, Jan.” Hoseok sneers. “I’m glad Tae’s back though. I was worried for your mental health only having your husband’s underlings to hang with.” He adds teasingly. “I still had Jin-hyung.” Jimin defends. “Virtually sure, but you know as well as I that Jin-hyung isn’t going to be showing his face anytime soon.” Hoseok’s eyebrows are wiggling and it has Jimin cringing at the cheesiness. But Hoseok is right, after Jimin had called his hyung to come and help them after the day of the shooting – Seokjin had been purposefully absent in Jimin’s life. Of course, he hadn’t gone completely AWOL, there’s no way bossy and nosy Seokjin would be able to go an hour without messaging Jimin to make sure he’s okay. But whenever Jimin had invited him round, Seokjin had mysteriously suddenly been very busy with important lawyer things that he just couldn’t skip out on. “Jin-hyung still hasn’t told me what happened.” Jimin comments irked. It’s more than Seokjin just not telling hi though, he’s point blank ignoring the entire awkward exchange between him and Namjoon. Changing the subject faster than Usain Bolt runs whenever Jimin even tries to broach the subject with him. Hoseok shrugs. “Nor Joon with me.” He winks. “Which means its gotta be something juicy.” Jimin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Tae will get it out of him.” Because no one can say no to Kim Taehyung, not even his older brother who puts up a good attempt in trying to. Hoseok nods in agreement. “And when he does, let me know.” There’s an impatient beep that interrupts their conversation and Jimin turns his eyes to his phone. “Speak of the devil.” Jimin mutters. Jin-hyung 09:43am So, I hear Taehyung’s back? Damn, news really does travel fast. “That Jin-hyung?” Hoseok asks, eyes darting away slyly from the road to look at the phone in Jimin’s hands. Jimin hums. “Did you tell him Taehyung’s back?” “No, thought Tae would’ve at least told his brother he’s back in the country.” Hoseok justifies. “I doubt it.” Jimin mumbles, fingers swiping over the keys of his phone. Jiminie 09:43am Yup, found him stealing from our fridge last night. He didn’t tell you? Jin-hyung 09:45am Don’t be so surprised The boy doesn’t have the capacity to think of more than one thing at a time How’d he get in? Jiminie 09:46am He snuck in using his key cos he ‘didn’t want to wake us.’ Needless to say, Yoongi was about to gun the place down

It was 3am Jin-hyung 09:47am 3am!? He snuck into a mobster’s house at 3am? Was this boy dropped on his head as a child? Hoseok is laughing so loudly that it’s drowning out the radio. “That kid was probably thrown on his head as a baby.” And Jimin finds himself giggling along with his hyung. Jiminie 09:47am Aren’t you his brother? Isn’t that something you should know? Jin-hyung 09:48am I do like to consider myself a Taehyung expert But then he goes and does shit like this And I’m left with the conclusion That no one /really/ knows Taehyung. Jiminie 9:49am Touché Jin-hyung 09:49am I still can’t believe Yoongi gave him a key “Yoongi-hyung gave Tae a key?” Hoseok asks stunned. Jimin shrugs. “Clearly, cos I didn’t give him one.” Jiminie 09:49am My husband’s a softie really! But anyway, we should celebrate Tae’s return Jin-hyung 09:50am What do you have in mind? Jiminie 09:50am Moves and food at mine? Jin-hyung 09:50am You should really get out more, Jiminie. Jiminie 09:51am I get out!!! Jin-hyung 09:51 Sure, Jan. “Sure, Jan.” Hoseok echoes for the second time that day. Jimin grimaces. “I’m assuming this is a reference to something, and the fact I don’t know it is making me feel old.” Hoseok just laughs at him, hand hitting the steering wheel as he does. Jimin thinks it’s a little too over dramatic, but he supposes that’s just the way Hoseok is.

Jiminie 09:52am You’re the second person today to use that fucking joke on me. Jin-hyung 09:52am Tell Hobi I say hey. “How’d he know it was me?” Hoseok’s eyebrows are shot in his hair in offense. Jimin sniggers. “You’re clearly too predictable, hyung.” Jin-hyung 09:53am Anyway, know I wont be dragged outta my house Unless there’s alcohol involved And neither will Tae. Jiminie 09:54am I forget you two are the literal human embodiments of Dionysus. Jin-hyung 09:54am I am never going to understand yours and your mothers obsession with mythological nicknames. Jiminie 09:54am It’s a Park thing, you Kims just wouldn’t understand ;) Jin-hyung 09:55am Whatever Talk to Tae and let me know. “I bet you any money something happened at the wedding.” Hoseok snickers. Jimin ignores his phone in favour of shooting daggers at his hyung. “What do you mean something happed at the wedding?” “Everything happened at the wedding.” Hoseok elaborates but all it does is annoy Jimin more. “Everything was fine, people kept telling me how nice it was.” Jimin argues defensively. Hoseok rolls his eyes. “That’s because you barely remember half the shit that happened after your mother drowned you in that bottle of tequila.” Jimin’s stomach churns at the memory. “Yoongihyung disappeared for an hour to talk with Tae and you were too busy dancing to notice he’d gone missing. Kept calling me Yoonie instead.” He teases. Jimin’s cheeks are flushed brilliant red. “Fuck off, no I didn’t!” He stutters. Hoseok looks so devilish, Jimin debates just pushing him out the car. “I caught the whole thing on video if you don’t believe me.” “Burn every copy you have.” Jimin snaps and Hoseok just laughs again. “What makes you think something happened at the wedding, though?” Hoseok shrugs. “Joon used to talk non-stop about Jin-hyung like a fan girl about their idol oppa. But then the wedding happened, and ever since he’s been acting like he’s never even met the guy.” Jimin ponders his hyung’s words briefly. He tries to remember the last time Seokjin had willing brought up Namjoon in conversation, but he can’t really remember it’s been that long. It’s been

almost 10 months since the wedding now, which is a long time to go not talking to someone, especially when you were once so close. “Shit, you might have something there.” Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows triumphantly. “I know, I’m brilliant.” “Debatable.”

____________ Thursday 15:20 As the bell rings out signaling the end of 6th period, Jimin finds himself tottering back to the staffroom with a satisfied grin on his face. He’s not alone, the kids seam just as happy that the school day is over, but Jimin’s happiness has been an infectious thing that’s just followed him around all day. Besides the fact his best friend is home, Jimin hasn't had to grade a single test for the last three days and he’s so thankful for that. He’d spent the good half of last week pulling just as much overtime as his work-a-holic husband in order to get all the mid term tests marked and graded. It was getting to the point where all he could see was red lines and circles, even when he closed his eyes, and if Jimin never has to see a test against for as long as he lives it’ll be too soon. His good mood however, is ultimately cut short by a large note left on his desk. It’s scribbled on the back of a scrap piece of paper, but the words; ‘See me ASAP ~ Kim Chulsoo’ sends a shiver down his spine. Even though he knows how much of a good guy Mr Kim is, Jimin is oddly feeling like his students at the daunting prospect of being called to the principle’s office. He dumps his things, shooting Hoseok a small smile, before scurrying to the Principles room. It’s only a few rooms down from the main staff room, the corridors echoing nosily with over excited kids scurrying to get home and be free of the school. All the windows are thrown open, a light warm breeze filtering in from the spring day beyond the cold grey walls of the school. The sun is still bright, lingering longer in the sky in defiance of winter’s old regime and it brings Jimin’s smile back to his lips. He knocks twice before opening the door, not bothering to wait to be called in. “You wanted to see me, Kim-seonsaengnim?” He asks hovering a little awkwardly in the doorway. Mr Kim is sat busily reading through various papers on his desk, but spares a brief look towards the door. “Oh, Jimin-ssi, yes, please come in.” He offers Jimin a small and tired smile before gesturing towards the seat on the other side of his desk. “I wont be a moment.” Jimin sits and waits patiently for the man to finish up what he’s doing, fingers twiddling nervously in his lap as he does. Mr Kim lets out a little sigh as he finishes what he was doing, piling the paper neatly on the desk before pulling his attention back to Jimin. “Sorry to call you in so suddenly, I know you had a busy day today.” Mr Kim starts with such a kind smile it makes Jimin want to work that much harder. Jimin shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine.” He brushes off quickly. “What can I help you with?” His face saddens then and Jimin finds his smile faltering also. “I wanted you to be the first to see

this.” He explains, hand opening a draw in the desk and pulling out a magnolia folder. “Seeing as you were the one that gave him the chance.” Jimin takes the folder; it’s thin with only one paper in it and no title on the front. As he puzzlingly opens it, he can feel his mouth dropping open as comically as a cartoon character. His brain almost doesn't believe his eyes as he takes in the student record lying before him. “Are these Jungkook’s mid term results?” The principle nods. “You’re the first to see them after myself.” He explains. “What do you think?” Jimin isn’t really sure what to think in the slightest, drawing on straws to think of what to say. Jungkook has never once showed signs of wanting to study or be involved in the school at all. He seams to have more fights than he does textbooks after all and a carefree attitude that rubs all the staff up the wrong way. So when Jimin offered the kid the chance to take his midterms, he really wasn’t expecting much. But presented before him looks to be the grades of their top academic student rather than their top troublesome student. “He got full marks in everything.” Jimin practically mutters as his eyes go over and over the grades in front of him. Mr Kim hums in agreement. “Except Maths.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Kid still got a B+.” Jimin wish there was a word better than proud for how he’s feeling. This is probably the best piece of news he’s had in months – work related that is. Ever since he’d helped Jungkook take his mid terms, Jimin had been keeping an incredibly close eye on him. He’d left a little bit of his heart with that boy, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to help the kid in anyway he can. Even if Jungkook isn’t willing to try with him, Jimin will still persevere with him. He’s constantly talking to Jungkook at every opportunity he gets, even if the kid didn’t want to talk back. Which was the case more often than not. “This is incredible.” Jimin smiles. Mr Kim sighs. “If it’s his own work, yes.” That happy feeling comes crashing down around Jimin like a popped balloon. He snaps his attention away from Jungkook’s results and back to his boss. “What do you mean?” He narrows his eyes defensively. Mr Kim holds up his hands defensively. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about.” He explains. “You have to understand the predicament I’m in here. A kid like Jungkook, who has the most absent days on record throughout the whole school, getting amazing grades like this, just doesn’t add up.” Jimin’s hand is clenched so tightly around the folder that it could probably rip. “Please don’t tell me you’re only looking skin deep at this.” Mr Kim looks tiered, far more so than a man his age should. “Honestly, I don’t want to. But on more than one occasion in the past week I’ve had teachers coming to me with complaints in regards to Jeon Jungkook.” “So? What’s that got to do with his grades?” Jimin retorts. He’s trying really hard to keep a professional tone about himself. “There are countless kids here with bad attitudes and good grades that don’t match, but we’re not scrutinizing them.”

Mr Kim hums. “That’s a fair point. But those kids with bad attitudes and good grades still turn up to school everyday even if they don’t want to. They may seam like they don’t care, but their good grades is a reflection that they do.” He justifies. “Your fellow teachers can only see a carless bad attitude in terms of Jeon Jungkook. I can predict the teacher’s outcries of cheating already.” Mr Kim illuminates. “And I want to nip this in the bud before it becomes a big thing.” “You think he cheated?” Jimin asks and Mr Kim shrugs, slumping back in his chair. “Did he cheat?” He asks cautiously. Jimin can feel his blood boil. “No. He did not.” He replies stubbornly. Mr Kim raises and eyebrow. “You give me your word, Jimin-ssi?” “I was with him all day.” Jimin explains. “What kind of teacher would I be if I let my student cheat?” He takes a steadying breath, trying not to completely snap at the man that handles his paychecks. “One that’s soft on him.” Jimin feels sick. “I find it appalling that just because I treat that boy decently when no one else does, it’s seen as being soft on him.” Jimin practically throws the folder back on the desk. “I give you my word. Jeon Jungkook did not cheat on his tests.” There’s a long tense silence that hangs thickly in the air. Jimin must look like a small dog ready to snap at some ankles, whilst Mr Kim just eyes him carefully. “Good.” Mr Kim replies. “Then I shall fight for Jeon Jungkook too.” Jimin isn’t sure he’s hearing things correctly. “What?” He asks. Mr Kim nods. “I trust your judgment, Jimin-ssi.” “Y-you do?” Jimin clarifies once again; he’s more than a little lost. “Jeon Jungkook doesn’t seam like a bad kid.” Mr Kim grabs the folder from off the desk. “He started this school with wide eyes and I think life has been more than a little unkind to him.” He places the folder back in the draw with a sigh. “I’m disappointed in my staff for not noticing the boys silent cries for help. But I’m glad one of them has.” Jimin nods, still not really following after the rollercoaster of emotions this conversation has gone through. “Right.” “Unfortunately there’s not much we can do with the little evidence we have.” He scoffs. “Things are more than a little backwards, if you ask me.” Jimin nods again feeling like a bobble head. “But at least his results will be something good for him.” Mr Kim finishes. He looks at Jimin carefully for a moment. “You’re looking a little shell-shocked, Jimin-ssi.” Jimin nods for what feels like the millionth time in the last few minuets. “I suppose you could say I am a little.” He lets out a long breath. “I feel like I’ve just been geared up to go into a boxing ring, only to be pulled out at the last minuet.” Mr Kim laughs a little too sneakily for Jimin’s taste. “I see.” He muses. “Was this a test?” Jimin asks. Mr Kim shrugs. “Who knows?” He pulls out the paper he had once been reading through and

spreads it out again on his desk. “Have a good evening, Jimin-ssi.”

____________ Thursday 23:34 “Did you know that my brother is refusing to come over here?” Taehyung asks as the two of them are curled up on the sofa later that night. He’s looking at his empty wine glass offended, like he’s clearly not sure why it’s empty when he wants it to be full. Taehyung has blown through a bottle of wine pretty much to himself – with Jimin drinking only a glass and a half. Jimin hums, he’s technically still nursing that half glass of wine even though the bottle was finished ages ago. “Has he point blank refused to come round?” Jimin asks and he sounds a little hurt. Taehyung shakes his head like a puppy drying out his wet hair. “But he’s implied enough times today that he won’t be coming round here to see me.” “It’s not you, I think it’s this place.” Jimin sighs, the wine has gone to his head just a little bit – but he won’t admit that. “Maybe he doesn’t like the kitchen.” Taehyung rolls on the couch, his long legs accidently kicking against Jimin’s thigh from where he’s curled up on the other end. “He is particular about kitchens.” Taehyung groans. “God my brother is so weird.” The Kim brothers are most defiantly the epitome of opposites. Whereas Taehyung is gangly, easy going and quirky, Seokjin is broad shouldered, level headed and mature. Taehyung will be the one to make you stay up all night playing video games, or force you to go drinking all weekend nonstop. He’ll be the first one Jimin will call if he’s having a fashion emergency or if he needs stress relief and a good cuddle. He’s had the longest, weirdest conversations with Taehyung in the most random of places too. Taehyung comes across as spacy, but his head is fantastically philosophical sometimes. Whereas Seokjin is the brother that will come round to check you have enough food, and brings homemade meals just to make sure you’re eating healthy. He’s goofy in a way that’s different to his brother, he cracks dad jokes like they’re the essence of humor and will laugh at them with a sound akin to a windshield wiper. He’s the first person Jimin turns to when he needs advice; he’s the first to go to when he just needs someone to listen to him and Seokjin always, always knows what to say. “Something happened when Jin-hyung came to help me out during Yoongi’s injury.” Jimin clarifies but then shakes his wine addled mind realising that’s technically not all there is too it. “Hobi-hyung thinks something happened between Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung at the wedding too.” Taehyung narrows his eyebrows. “Who’s wedding?” “My wedding.” “Wasn’t that a couple years ago?” “10 months ago, Tae.” Taehyung nods with a grunt. “Right, right.” He sits up, curling his long legs under himself. His face is creasing with confusion as he tries to fit together the pieces. “So what happened?”

Jimin shrugs. “Dunno, Jin-hyung wont talk about it.” He takes a small sip on his neglected wine. “And Namjoonie-hyung wont talk to Hobi-hyung about it either.” Taehyung looks dizzy. “There were too many hyungs in that sentence.” He grimaces. “So much shit went down at your wedding.” Jimin sighs, looking at the wine reproachfully. “Hobi-hyung said that too.” Taehyung is nodding enthusiastically. “Don’t you remember we caught Joonie-hyung sneaking out of your downstairs coat closet beet red and looking like he just got caught jacking off by his parents.” Jimin’s eyes blow wide. “The fuck? No, I don’t remember that.” Taehyung sighs almost wistfully. “It was the first time I’ve ever seen him so frazzled. That man’s too collected all the damn time.” “He’s just friendly.” Jimin vouches. Taehyung shakes his head. “Aint no such thing as friendly mobsters.” “Explain Hobi-hyung then?” Jimin counters. Taehyung opens his mouth and closes it a few times like a fish – clearly at a loss for words. “I’m working on Hobi-hyung. Man’s most definitely harboring some dirty secrets.” He concludes before snatching Jimin’s unfinished drink out of his hands. “Regardless, I think he’s on to something. Because I vaguely remember the both of them cutting out early at the wedding.” He downs the rest of the wine in one mouthful and smacks his lips appreciatively. “They were so awkward around each other.” Jimin recalls. Taehyung furrows his brows again. “What at the wedding?” Jimin shakes his head. “No, a few months back.” He sighs. “Jin-hyung came round to help out with Yoongi’s injury and he point blank refused to even acknowledge Namjoonie-hyung! It was so sad.” Taehyung makes a loud startled noise that reminds Jimin of a walrus and almost knocks him off the sofa in surprise. “Tae, what the fuck?” Taehyung is smacking his head like it’ll bring more important discoveries to his brain. “Fucking idiots.” Taehyung practically spits. “The pair of them.” “What, what?” Jimin presses, completely lost in this conversation. “This is worst angst than when you and Yoongi-hyung got together.” Tae announces flopping back onto the sofa and almost dropping the wine glass on the floor. “And that’s saying something.” Jimin punches his best friend in the leg. “Hey!” Taehyung kicks him back. “I was on a fucking roll there Jimbo and you interrupted my train of thought.” He hits him again on the other arm for good measure. “Now I may never get that enlightening thought back again.” “You’ve never had an enlightening thought in your life.” Yoongi quips from the doorway and it has both boys’ heads snap over to him from the sofa. Jimin’s not sure whether he heard the front door even open, but he doesn’t care, as the sight of his husband home earlier than usual is the best thing in the world to him.

“Yoonie!” He beams pouncing across the room and throwing himself at Yoongi. Yoongi catches him easily placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Hey, sunshine.” Then he wrinkles his nose. “Have you been drinking?” “Only wine.” Taehyung justifies. They all know the Kim brothers’ clear stance on alcohol; wine is weak. Yoongi shoots him an irritated look. “Jimin can’t handle any alcohol, wine included.” Jimin doesn’t even feel the need to defend his broken honor, his husband is right and so he simply giggles snuggling closer to him. “Wine is good for you.” Taehyung shoots back with the biggest smirk on his face. Yoongi cocks an unimpressed eyebrow. “Says who?” Jimin, who currently has both his legs and arms wrapped around his husband, sighs in contentment. “Don’t worry, it was only a glass and a half.” There’s a loving smile on his lips as he watches Yoongi’s side profile. “Taehyung drunk the rest.” Yoongi turns his head back to Jimin, there faces are so close and Jimin can smell the musky scent of Yoongi’s cologne. It’s woody and rich and reminds Jimin of old expensive things like leather bound books and fine aged scotch. It’s a little stronger than usual and Jimin has this sinking suspicion it’s because he was doing something questionable moments before coming home. He spies a quick glance at Yoongi’s hands and surly enough, he’s not wearing his gloves, even though he always wears his gloves. Jimin’s a little glad that the wine is making him pleasantly buzzed so he doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on things. “Well, your tolerance is still ridiculously low, Sunshine.” Yoongi scolds lightheartedly. “You shouldn’t be touching the stuff at all, do you want a repeat of our wedding night?” Jimin is flushing a brilliant red, brighter than usual thanks to his alcohol intake. It also doesn’t help that Taehyung is clapping madly like a seal on the couch. “Oh my god! Something happened to you guys too? Do tell!” He exclaims excitedly. Jimin groans, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.” Yoongi chuckles. “And I haven’t.” “Yet.” Taehyung supplies unhelpfully. Yoongi finally decides to make his way into the living room area, Jimin still held tight to his side as he does. “What do you mean something happened to you guys ‘too’?” He asks, flopping down on his chair by the window. Jimin maneuvers himself to sit in his husbands lap, legs thrown over one of the arm rests, head resting on his shoulder and hands wrapped tightly around the front of his shirt. Yoongi’s hands come to rest on the small of Jimin’s back and on his thigh, as he also gets comfortable. It’s a position they’ve sat in numerous times before and will do so many times in the future. Because there’s no seat better than that of his husband’s lap. Taehyung pulls a disgusted face at the sight. “Man, you two are so in love it’s kinda gross.” Jimin just pokes his tongue out at his best friend.

“Don’t avoid the question, Taehyung.” Yoongi scolds. Taehyung rolls his eyes like the disrespectful brat he is before explaining. “Both Namjoon and my brother did something the night of your wedding that caused the two of them to cut out early.” There’s a moments pause, in which Yoongi shuffles a little on the armchair. He nods as if thinking over Taehyung’s words and then anticlimactically says; “Oh.” Jimin narrows his eyes at his husband – his husband who is purposefully not looking him in the eye. Taehyung nods. “He’s also refusing to come round here, even though his wonderful amazing brother is here and if that’s not suspicious to all fuck, then I don’t know what is.” Yoongi hums in agreement, and to everyone else it would sound perfectly normal. A normal interjection whilst Taehyung continues to babble on. But Jimin isn’t everyone else. He’s perfectly attuned to all his husband’s ticks, mannerisms and habits. So the hum of agreement that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth sounds less smooth and more forced to Jimin’s ear. His eyes are barely blinking, doing so rhythmically rather than naturally, trained on Taehyung like he’s telling the most interesting story in the world. Which, Jimin supposes, is a pretty obvious example of his out of character behavior – Yoongi never listens to Taehyung. His hands are a little too still on Jimin’s body too. His husband has a wonderful habit of rubbing small circles into his skin wherever they touch – knowing full well that Jimin loves the tactile attention. Jimin wiggles a little in his husband’s lap, a small sign that Yoongi is neglecting Jimin’s needy mannerisms. He’s quick to start running delectate fingers up and down Jimin’s back, but the touch is also somewhat mechanical. “… and I know I was like, half a bottle of vodka down at this point, but vodka only enhances my sneaking abilities and…” Taehyung continues to ramble on about something that Jimin is sure neither him nor Yoongi are actually listening too. Jimin smirks coyly; glad his face is hidden from his husband who is still refusing to make eye contact even though Jimin hasn’t stopped staring at him. Boldly, he shuffles round in Yoongi’s lap until he’s straddling him, hands smoothing across his shoulders and round his neck. “Sunshine.” Yoongi warns, but there’s nothing demanding in his voice. Jimin can only hear subtle panic from the man he loves and Jimin grins mischievously now that he knows his assumptions are correct. Yoongi clearly knows something Jimin doesn’t and is doing a poor job at trying to hide it. Jimin leans in expertly quick and locks his lips with Yoongi’s, lips crashing in a kiss that’s far more passionate than needs be considering they still have company. But Jimin’s head is still a little fuzzy from the wine, and he’s on a mission to tease that hidden piece of information out of Yoongi. There’s no time to be PG-13 in the art of seduction, even if his best friend is gawking at them. Because once Jimin has set his mind to something, God be his witness, Jimin will carry out with it. Yoongi is biting on his lower lip, pulling away to break the kiss. His eyes are dark and hooded, but his hands are still a little bit too static to be acceptable. Yoongi loves to touch, to stroke, to tease – even when they’re passing sweet kisses on the way to work. Yoongi will always tangle his fingers in Jimin’s hair, or gently caress his cheek. Still hands is a sure fire sign that Yoongi is trying to hold it together – fearful he’s going to slip up. The moment is interrupted though by the spectator in the room who decides to make a fake gagging noise to break the awkwardness. “Jesus Chim, you know I’m all for being supportive and shit. But really? Right in front of my salad?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, hands slipping from around Yoongi’s neck to go lower. Yoongi groans as Jimin’s hands make their way teasingly down his chest, purposefully pressing a little harder past his nipples. Taehyung makes an outraged squeak and Jimin just knows his best friend is hiding behind his hands like the childish brat he is. Jimin’s hands slip into Yoongi’s pants pocket, pulling his wallet from them and throwing it a Taehyung. “Go make yourself busy for a few hours.” He announces not even sparing a glance his best friends way. Yoongi’s face is awash in a mix of horror that Jimin has just thrown his wallet at a stupidly irresponsible being like Taehyung. But also in building arousal at the fact Jimin is being so dominant today. Jimin is rarely so foreword, but when he is he makes Yoongi see stars. “Are you seriously sexiling me?” Taehyung grumbles overdramatically from the other side of the room. Jimin still doesn’t bother to look Taehyung’s way. “Looks like it. Have fun.” He calls before dancing his fingers along Yoongi’s belt and pressing kisses into his neck. The sharp hitch of breath that’s pulled through Yoongi’s teeth is like music to his ears. Yoongi is particularly sensitive at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and Jimin takes full advantage of that. Taehyung wines like a child in a tantrum. “What happened to bros before hoes?” Yoongi’s just barely clear minded enough to snap a warning glare Taehyung’s way. “I’m not a hoe.” Jimin grins devilishly. “We’ll see about that.” He mutters darkly into Yoongi’s skin before snapping the band of his husband’s slacks. “Animals.” Taehyung shouts interrupting the mood again. Yoongi growls – less in arousal and more in annoyance and glares at Taehyung. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out the window.” Jimin really doesn’t want Namjoon and Hoseok’s bet to become a reality, so he finally turns to look at his best friend. “Talk to you later, yeah Tae?” He fills his voice with as much persuasion as possible and throws in a wink just for good measure. Taehyung has always been so good at reading Jimin, and his skills seam to still be in top form. Taehyung’s face slowly pulls into a teasing smirk understanding the situation completely. “Sure, later.” He replies waving the wallet in his hands and turning quickly on his heels. “Use protection, you’re still too young for kids!” He mocks on his way out.

____________ Friday 01:02am “So you want to get Namjoon and Seokjin to talk?” Yoongi asks as he trails his finger up and down Jimin’s back. Yoongi is currently lying in their bed; sheets messed up in the most perfect of ways with Jimin lying on top of him. They’re both breathing heavily and Jimin can hear Yoongi’s drumming heart beat

from where the side of his face is resting on his stomach. Even though this was more for Yoongi’s pleasure than his own, Jimin feels completely satisfied and a little smug for a job well done. He thought he’d only be giving the good suck tonight, confident in his abilities to draw what he needs out of his husband by just using his mouth. It had worked too, Yoongi singing like a canary under Jimin’s ministrations and Jimin was too high on endorphins to stop there. Thankfully, Yoongi was more than willing to go the whole 9 yards. Jimin hums. “I think they like each other.” Yoongi scoffs. “I feel like you’re pulling on strings that aren’t meant to be, Sunshine.” Jimin wines, “But Joonie-hyung asked you for advice!” He explains, wiggling his hips and hissing a little at the overstimulation. Yoongi hasn’t pulled out yet, the both of them knowing Jimin’s distance for being empty so soon after sex. He’s more clingy and emotional after sex – a feat of which Yoongi was initially impressed with, seeing as Jimin was already incredibly clingy before sex is added to the equation. But Jimin knows Yoongi is a weak man for his husband, and gives in all too easily to Jimin’s needy wants. Yoongi hushes him, hands coming down to still his hips. “Easy, love.” He coos before placing a small kiss to the top of Jimin’s head. “Like I said, he only asked me how he could get Seokjin to stop ignoring him.” He repeats. “He said nothing about what happened to cause said ignoring.” “But that means he cares, right?” Jimin explains excitedly. “Tae mentioned something about the two of them ignoring each other means they’re going through some angsty pinning stage.” “Again, Taehyung hasn’t had an enlightened thought in his entire life.” Yoongi teases and Jimin giggles. “But honestly, I don’t think there’s any need to think too much into it.” Jimin sighs. “If we thought like that, do you think we’d be married right now?” He scoffs. “It took us two months of pinning and awkwardly avoiding each other before we finally went on that second date.” “It was only a month and 17 days.” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin raises his head and places a soft kiss at the corner of his husband’s mouth. “I love that you remember that.” Yoongi rolls his eyes; offended Jimin would believe Yoongi wouldn’t remember all of their soppy romantic moments. “But my point is, we had a little push from Hobi-hyung to get us moving in the right direction. So all I’m saying is that a little nudging for Joonie-hyung and Jinhyung might be good too.” Jimin finishes. “You shouldn’t push things that may not be there, Sunshine.” Yoongi warns, hands sliding up from Jimin’s hips to cup his face. “The only reason Hoseok meddled is because he knew there were mutual feelings there. We had already been on one date after all.” Jimin smiles fondly. “One incredibly awkward date.” Yoongi wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Of which you were punching well above your weight.” Jimin smacks him on the shoulder, the sweet fluffy moment gone. “The topic of our wedding night is still incredibly taboo even when it’s just the two of us.” He scolds. Yoongi doesn’t look sorry, his mouth pulling into that perfect gummy smile that makes Jimin go weak at the knees. “But even if they don’t have romantic feelings, they were still pretty good friends before whatever the hell happened at the wedding happened.” Yoongi nods in agreement. “So we could at least try and get

them to talk? That’s not forcing anything is it?” Yoongi hums. “I agree they need to talk. And the two of them are far more useless at this shit than we are, so maybe we should help them out on that point.” Jimin giggles. “I love it when you scheme for the greater good.” He teases. “You’re a good friend Yoonie.” Yoongi’s mouth drops into a pout that Jimin knows is supposed to be indifferent, but it makes his husband look so soft. “I’m still salty Joon didn’t tell me about the issue at the wedding. I thought he’d just broken something important of Seokjin’s and thus was being ignored.” Jimin giggles. “Plausible.” “It happens between Hoseok and Namjoon at least twice a month.” Yoongi verifies. “I guess it’ll just be one of the great mysteries of our wedding.” “Along with the reason as to why you gave Tae a key.” Jimin smirks. “I mean it’s cute and all, and I love you for it, but I’m suspired you didn’t tell me about it before hand.” Yoongi looks shocked. “I thought you were the one to give Taehyung a key?” Jimin shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “He told me you gave it to him.” “And he told me you gave it to him.” Yoongi counters. There’s a slight pause in which the idiot couple slowly register how much of a sneaky, shady, snake of a being Kim Taehyung actually is. The realisation that Taehyung attained a key to their heavily guarded penthouse apartment in Gangnam, without either of them knowing, is not something that settles well with them. No matter how much they love and trust the idiot. It’s Jimin who moves first, “I’m gonna kill him.” He grumbles reaching for his phone on the nightstand. From the quick movements, Yoongi ends up slipping out of Jimin, and the younger hisses at the sudden loss, head flopping dejectedly onto the matrass mid stretch for the phone. There’s the familiar uncomfortable feeling of cum dribbling between his thighs and all of a sudden he feels that crashing emptiness he so hates. Yoongi is there immediately though, hands soothing up and down Jimin’s back whilst dropping soft kisses across his shoulders. “It’s alright, you can kill him after I clean us up.” He offers. His fingers do the trick nicely in relaxing Jimin’s muscles once more. Jimin nods, hands flopping back to the bed, phone momentarily forgotten. “I might not have the guts to do it.” Yoongi snickers. “That’s what I’m here for.” He teases slipping of the bed. He places a large kiss to Jimin’s forehead and hands the man his phone, before promising he wont be long in his hunt for a wet towel. Chim Chim 01:23am How the fuck did you get a key to our place!? Tae Tae 01:23am I’m guessing it’s now safe to return to the apartment?

You give Yoongles that good good? Chim Chim 01:24am Yes… But that’s not the point right now How’d you get a key?? Tae Tae 01:24am Look at you Using sex as a weapon You really understand the true meaning of marriage :’) Chim Chim 01:24am I mean, I’ll take my husband of the year award in cash Thanks for your support Tae Tae 01:25am Was he seething when he found out you used him? Bet he’s not used to people manipulating him for a change Chim Chim 01:25am Listen, l i s t en, I didn’t need to manipulate shit I give good head Tae Tae 01:26am Are you telling me That Min Yoongi /The/ Min Yoongi Scary head of the biggest Mafia group in SK Would sell his soul if the succ is good? Chim Chim 01:27am No, no no. I’m telling you My succ is just /that good/ Tae Tae 01:27am Yoongi should really use your talents more You’re wasting away as a househusband He’d probs be able to concur all of Asia using just your ass as a weapon Chim Chim 01:28am Bitch I don't want all of Asia falling in love with my ass. My ass is only for my husband thanks Tae Tae 01:28am Excuse you? Chim Chim 01:28am And for my soulmate to jiggle with when’s he bored Tae Tae 01:29am

You darn right! Makes me realise why the victorians used jello as a form of entertainment Anyway, what was husbando hiding from yah? Chim Chim 01:30am Joonie-hyung went to Yoongi for advice about Seokjin ignoring him Which is stupid, because lord knows my husband is emotionally constipated But the two are also best friends, so poor Joonie-hyung had to settle Tae Tae 01:32am Mmmm, can’t relate Let me just take this moment To appreciate my best friend soulmate In all his emotionally available ways Chim Chim 01:32am #goals Anyway your suspicions have been confirmed. Tae Tae 01:33am What suspicions? Chim Chim 01:33am About Jin-hyung and Namjoonie-hyung possibly having a /thing/ Tae Tae 01:34am I suspected they had a /thing/? Chim Chim 01:34am Literally three hours ago What the fuck have you been doing? Tae Tae 01:35am I’m at a club Yoongi’s CC bill is gonna be hella fyi The bartender is /really/ cute Like you don’t understand Chim Chim 01:35am Will you be coming home tonight then? Tae Tae 01:36am Ngl Probs not So lets make a plan tomorrow, yah? Chim Chim 01:36am May the dick be good my friend. Chim Chim 01:50am Wait, HOW DID YOU GET A KEY TO OUR APARTMENT? TAE! TAEHYUNG!

You’re such a snake.

____________ Friday 10:06 Yoongi 10:06am Your best friend came home smelling of nasty sex And had the audacity to knock and wait to be let in When he so clearly has a fucking key So we may or may not, owe him a new phone. Mochi 10:06am If you threw his phone out the window Then it’s only /you/ who owes Tae a new phone Don’t rope me into this Yoongi 10:07am Whatever happened to ‘for better or for worse?’ Mochi 10:08pm I wouldn’t know I was too drunk for that bit Yoongi 10:08am So it’s totally fine for /you/ to joke about our wedding night? Besides, the vows were before your mother drowned you in a bottle of tequila. Mochi 10:09am Did you really throw Tae’s phone out the window? Yoongi 10:10am …yes. “Hobi-hyung!” Jimin calls from across the staffroom. There are only three other people in the room with them, and yet all of them snap their head in his direction. Hoseok jumps to his feet, clearly egar to do anything that doesn’t involve schoolwork. Jimin is always feeling guilty that the man is forced to pretend to be a teacher just because Jimin refuses to give up his job. He’s not sure how Hoseok manages to juggle being one of Yoongi’s right hand men, babysit Jimin, do all his schoolwork and still find time to sleep. “What’s up, Mochi.” He beams flopping into the empty chair at the desk beside Jimin’s. Jimin smirks. “It’s official, you owe Joonie-hyung some money.” Hoseok lets out a snicker, not even phased that he just lost a bet. “What did hyung toss?” “Tae’s phone.” Jimin sighs leaning back in his chair. “Did you know that Yoongi didn’t give him the key to our place?” “Well, yeah. This is Min Yoongi we’re talking about.” Hoseok replies. “And I know you said you didn’t, but you were so drunk on your wedding night Mochi, maybe you did it without thinking?”

Jimin frowns. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I didn’t even have my own key on me that night.” He wraps his hands around his warm coffee and lets a content sigh past his lips. “Taehyung’s such a dirty little snake.” Hoseok is back to laughing, his voice loud enough to cause the other teachers to look over intrigued. “Remind me to never underestimate Kim Taehyung.” He comments in mirth. “Which reminds me, did he manage to weasel the gossip out of his brother?” There’s a slight tinge of pink dusting Jimin’s cheeks as he shakes his head and takes a long sip of coffee. “Not exactly.” He finally says, but he knows he answered far too awkwardly for Hoseok to just let it off. “Oh ho ho.” Hoseok sniggers. “I smell something juicy.” “Not that juicy.” Jimin mumbles. “Turns out Yoongi knew a little something and…” “You had your way with him to get what you wanted.” Hoseok nods understandably. “That ass is hypnotic, Min Jimin.” Jimin is a startling red by this point and his eyes are trained to his desk in pure mortification. “Shut the hell up.” He hisses. Hoseok is beaming again. “So, what did hyung know?” “Not an awful lot.” Jimin mumbles, taking another sip of coffee to calm himself down. “Jooniehyung asked him for advice on ‘getting someone to stop ignoring you.’” Hoseok hums. “To be honest, the whole thing smells like two people crushing on each other and are too dumb to admit it.” Jimin practically jumps in excitement in his chair. “That’s what I said!” He announces in a rushed voice. “But Yoongi seams to think that there’s not enough evidence to support this.” “Yoongi is emotionally constipated Mochi, you should know this by now.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “You’d both still be pinning over the idea of a second date if I hadn’t poked my nose in.” “Again, valid points that I gave to Yoongi too. But he was still pretty adamant that this is more just a friend thing than a romantic thing.” Jimin sighs looking down at his now empty coffee mug. “Honestly I thought Joon would be easier to crack than Seokjin, but it seams they’re both as bad as each other.” Hoseok slumps his head to rest on his hand, elbow propped up on the desk. “But it’s nothing alcohol can’t fix.” Jimin narrows his eyes. “That sounds like terrible advice, who taught you that?” Hoseok chuckles. “Your mother, whilst she was drowning you in that bottle of tequila on your wedding day.” Jimin giggles. “Yeah, that sounds like Eomma.” He sighs. “So what should we do?” “Obviously we need to trick them into talking.” Hoseok explains and there’s a dark twinkle in his eyes that Jimin isn’t sure he want’s to be apart of.

___________ Friday 17:10pm Hoseok invites himself over for dinner that night. He tells Yoongi it’s because he wants to see Taehyung, but Jimin really knows it’s so the two of them can scheme. They come home to find Taehyung wallowing on the couch at the loss of his phone and Yoongi very firmly locked up in his office. Taehyung clearly hasn’t bothered to do much besides shower off last night’s bad choices. His hair has dried flat on the side of his face that’s smashed into the couch pillows, but fluffy on the other side. His fashion sense – of which Jimin is seriously beginning to think is disappearing – consists of another pair of grey sweats and an over large shirt. “Your husband is a public menace.” Taehyung announces sulkily rather than greets them home. Hoseok scoffs. “I should hope so, else he’d be pretty shitty at his job.” Taehyung’s head snaps up from the sound of Hoseok’s voice, like a dog that’s heard his favorite human and a huge smile splits across his face. “Hobi-hyung!” Hoseok is bounding over to the sofa with a little shriek of joy. “Hey Tae-bae, welcome home.” He greets, flattening the fluffier side to Taehyung’s hair. “You know, you don’t look all that much like an international model.” He teases. “Stop, you’re making me blush.” Taehyung chuckles back. “If you want my autograph all you have to do is give me 20,000won.” Hoseok makes a mock disgusted noise as he flops onto the sofa next to Taehyung. “Don’t friends get it for free?” Taehyung nods. “But I already gave Chim my autograph.” He replies, holding out his hand mockingly for the money. Hoseok has him in a head lock promptly three seconds later, messing up Taehyung’s hair far worse than it was before and lecturing him to not be a brat. Jimin spares himself from the pair’s reunion and sneaks down the hallway to his husband’s office. It’s eerily quiet and Jimin wonders if Yoongi has managed to find some way to sneak out of the penthouse suit without Taehyung noticing. The doors slightly ajar and there’s no light coming from inside the office, which to anyone else would look like no ones in there. But if the office is open in general, it means Yoongi is home. He cracks the door open, letting the light from the hallway cast into the dark room and smiles at the sight before him. Yoongi’s home office is the one place in the whole house that Jimin has to ask permission to clean first. Though it sounds like a pig headed and controlling thing to do, Jimin understands completely why the rule is in place. Yoongi has all of his mafia files and documents in his home office, it’s usually locked when he’s not around and not even Jimin has a key to it. It’s small, about the same size as their bathroom, with nothing but shelves and bookcases along the walls that are littered with books and files. There are no windows, the only light coming from the overhead room light and a smaller one on Yoongi’s desk. The desk itself takes up the majority of the space; it’s an exact replica of the one in his main office at the company headquarters. Except this one is considerably less tidy. Jimin tries to clean it at least once a week, otherwise the place becomes a hazard zone for paper cuts and trash, but it has to be when Yoongi’s around. Jimin has no idea what’s important or not, and he

could very well clear away what he thinks is trash, but are actually bank codes to the vault holding the key to the city or something. Yoongi is currently slumped over his desk napping, and Jimin wants to take a picture he looks so adorable. Like a child who’s had way too much fun playing grown up in his father’s office. Jimin pads softly over to the desk and runs his fingers through his lover’s hair. “Babe, you shouldn’t sleep here. It’s bad for you.” Yoongi grumbles. “M’not sleeping.” He lies. “Just resting my eyes.” Jimin giggles. “Then you shouldn’t be resting your eyes here.” Yoongi just huffs in reply and Jimin continues to card his hands through his hair. “You should go and sleep, Yoonie.” Yoongi sighs, pulling himself to sit up right and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can’t, gotta go back to work in a bit.” Jimin is knawing on his bottom lip. “Things bad again?” Yoongi, sensing his husband’s distress, pulls the man into his lap. Jimin slots himself in place, legs straddling his husband’s thighs and hands resting on his shoulders. “Not bad, just annoying.” He explains. “Don’t worry about it though, things will work out.” He promises before claiming Jimin’s lips in a slow teasing kiss. “Disgusting.” Taehyung announces from the door way and the sudden interruption causes both Yoongi and Jimin to glare at him. “Can I help you?” Yoongi grouses. Taehyung sneers. “We’re going out, be ready in two hours.” He declares. “Out?” Jimin queries. “Out!” Hoseok bellows from down the corridor. Yoongi’s face is pulled into a harsh grimace and Jimin can feel him tensing under him. “Is that Hoseok?” He asks. “No, it’s Joon.” Hoseok answers from down the corridor and Jimin can practically feel the irritation radiating off of his husband. He pats Jimin’s ass, signaling for the man to slide off his lap. Jimin does as he’s told, only slightly salty at the fact he has to detangle himself from Yoongi. But said bitterness is only short lived when Yoongi entwines their hands and leads them down the hall. Hoseok is currently in the process of going through their fridge and Jimin wonders why their friends are so interested in their food supply. “The fuck you doing here?” Yoongi demands and his tone is 100% not to be messed with. Hoseok sighs mischievously, clearly ready to test the boundaries of his short-tempered boss. “And hello to you too, hyung.” He greets pulling out a slice of bread and shoving it in to his mouth. “I came for dinner.” He explains, something that’s not all that rare. It’s not uncommon to find both Yoongi’s seconds lounging about the apartment like they live here. Jimin half wonders whether it’s because their apartment is one of the safest places in the whole of Seoul, but he like to think it’s more because they enjoy Jimin’s company.

When he first moved in, Jimin hated the fact he spent long nights alone. It was easier when they lived separately; he didn't know that Yoongi was out all night and had no inclining of the bad stuff he could be up to either. But when they moved in together, Jimin was consumed most nights with loneliness trying his hardest to push thoughts away about whether he’ll actually ever come home. He knows that’s why Hoseok and Namjoon started spending more time at their place, to keep Jimin company. The ever analytical and well versed Namjoon liked to compare Jimin to a flower, in constant need of sunlight and attention in order not to wilt. It’s a stupid analogy that’s more teasing than it is complimentary, but Jimin knows Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi narrows his eyes, clearly not believing his second’s bullshit. “Didn’t I ask you to check on those new deliveries after you were done at the school?” Hoseok shrugs, slamming the fridge shut and making Jimin wince. “Joon’s already there.” Yoongi’s grip on Jimin’s hand is incredibly tight. “I told Joon to head to the club.” “We switched jobs.” Hoseok explains. “Because the kids wanna go out, and we all know how much of a stick in the mud Kim Namjoon is.” “We’re going to The Lavender Room.” Taehyung elaborates. “Great music, good booze and sexy bartenders.” Yoongi looks like he’s debating whether it’s socially acceptable to murder his houseguests. “You fucked one of my bartenders?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Don’t be so possessive, Jiminie wont like it.” Jimin feels like he’s missing out on something here. A feat of which isn’t uncommon when they talk about ‘business’ around him. But when it involves Taehyung, it’s clearly going to involve Jimin, and Jimin needs to know how much of his husbands underground activity is involved with whatever plan Taehyung and Hoseok have cooked up. Jimin narrows his eyebrows. “What’s going on?” He asks, sitting in one of the stools at the breakfast bar and dragging Yoongi to sit in the one next to him. He complies a little unwillingly, knowing that sitting on a bar stool will make him all the less intimidating. “The Lavender Room is this new club that we opened relatively recently.” Hoseok explains. “It’s also the place Taehyung drowned his sexiled sorrows in last night.” He props his elbows on the breakfast bar and leans his body towards Yoongi. Yoongi grimaces at the closeness of his second, who’s merrily chomping away at his plain slice of bread. “What’s that got to do with the fact both you and Joon seam to think it’s perfectly fine for you to call the shots, without consulting me?” Yoongi seethes. Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Both the jobs will get done boss man, just hear us out okay. This is partly your fault.” “It’s what –“ Yoongi whisper yells. Jimin is rubbing soothing circles into his husband’s back. “Deep breathes, love. Count to ten.” He pacifies. “So I was planning on going back to that club tonight right.” Taehyung begins and Jimin can tell that they’re all in for a wild ride. “Because yeah I fucked one of your bartenders Yoongi-hyung, and I

planned on doing so again tonight. But you threw my phone out the window and now I got no way of contacting one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen.” Jimin gasps. “How hot we talking?” “Sunshine.” Yoongi groans a hand running over his face. Taehyung is wiggling his eyebrows. “Bunny boy just picked me the fuck up like I weighed nothing and then fucked me against the wall without even breaking a sweat.” “Well shit.” Jimin mumbles. “I’ll fuck you against a wall if you want.” Yoongi grumbles jealously under his breath. Jimin just coos at him. “Not now sweetie, Tae’s talking.” Hoseok is trying really hard not to burst into uncontrollable giggles. Shoving his face into his arm and biting on his jacket sleeve. Taehyung rounds the counter to stand next Hoseok, opposite Jimin so that he can gush excitedly. “Like 10/10, would bang again.” He emphasis. “But the enemy ruined my ability to bang again.” He narrows Yoongi with a glare. “Why the fuck am I the enemy?” Yoongi demands. Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Comes with the territory of a mafia boss.” Jimin leans himself into Yoongi’s side, head snuggled on his shoulder and arms wrapped around his chest. “You’re not my enemy.” He coos placing a little kiss to the side of his face. Yoongi relaxes a little under Jimin’s embrace and subconsciously leans his head against Jimin’s. “So disgusting.” Taehyung fake gags but Yoongi just clicks his tongue. “So, you want to go back to The Lavender Room just to sleep with the bartender again?” Jimin asks. “That’s the soul reason you’re forcing me to go out with you?” “You don’t have to go out, Sunshine.” Yoongi reassures. Really, it’s more for Yoongi’s benefit than his own. He doesn’t like it when Jimin goes out at night without him, Hoseok or Namjoon will always come with him, but still things lurk in the night that can always catch you off guard. “Breezing past the possessive behavior, because we all know Jimin’s a slut for dancing.” Taehyung presses. “There’s this little room behind the bar, it’s like a coat closet for staff and can only be locked from the outside.” Jimin is giggling. “You’re not seriously thinking of pushing Jin-hyung and Namjoonie-hyung into a closet to get them to talk, are you? Do you understand how incredibly ironic that is?” “Not to mention cliché as fuck.” Yoongi adds. Taehyung rolls his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time I caught Namjoon awkwardly leaving a closet.” “Why does that sound like the makings of some kind of porno?” Hoseok comments. “Tae caught Namjoon walking out of a closet at the wedding, looking guilty over something, but we’re not sure what.” Jimin elaborates.

“You saw him too, you were just too drunk to remember.” Taehyung points out. Jimin’s flushing red again and hiding his face in Yoongi’s shoulder. “No ones ever going to let me live that down, are they?” “No.” The collected company, including his own husband, replies and Jimin just buries his face further into Yoongi’s shoulder. “Odd though.” Yoongi ponders. “I caught Seokjin doing something similar.” The room lapses into a silence, their brains collectively ticking over all the pieces of the puzzle. “Which closet did you find Namjoon in?” “The one under the stairs.” Taehyung replies. Yoongi hums nonchalantly. “Yeah, same one I caught Seokjin leaving.” The silence picks up again, only for a brief few minutes before Taehyung is cackling like a madman. “Fucking idiots, the pair of them.” Yoongi tuts. “Don’t go pushing things that may not be there, Taehyung.” He warns. “C’mon, Yoongs, you can’t be that dense.” Hoseok grouses. “People hide in closets together to do things that aren’t social acceptable in public. Do the fucking math, man.” “Whatever, it’s not like you’ll get Seokjin to agree to go.” Yoongi counters. “Not if he knows Namjoon is coming.” “I already messaged brother dearest, told him to meet us at The Lavender Room at 10. Told him Yoongi-hyung owns the place, so that means free booze.” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “He doesn’t have to know Namjoon is going to be there, you can just bring him later or something.” “You were going to spend the evening at the club anyway.” Hoseok points out. Jimin stiffens. “Something up with the club?” Yoongi, who is acutely attended to Jimin’s every mood, turns his head and places a reassuring kiss to Jimin’s temple. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Jimin narrows his eyes. “Like that’s going to make me feel better.” “Just, stay with Hoseok, okay?” Yoongi adds and Jimin’s worry doubles. “Fuck, Yoongi I – “ Jimin wines, but Yoongi silences him with a quick kiss. “I’ll be around later, and we can go home together, okay?” Yoongi appeases. Jimin sighs in reluctant agreement, puckering his lips in need of another kiss. All of which, Yoongi is more than willing to give him.

____________ Saturday 00:42

“Where the fuck has Taehyung fucked off too?” Seokjin bellows over the loud bass, mouth right by Jimin’s ear. Jimin scans the compact crowd, eyes flickering from face to face and finds that none of them are Taehyung. Jimin curses under his breath, a prickling of worry dotting the back of his neck. They were supposed to stay with Hoseok, Yoongi made that perfectly clear. He kept repeating it over and over again as they got ready and Jimin was certain that if he could, Yoongi would tattoo it into their foreheads so they wouldn’t forget. But this is so like Taehyung, Jimin’s not really all that surprised. It’s been about two hours since they arrived and Jimin admits that’s a record for the longest time they’ve been together before loosing Taehyung. “Hobi! Drink!” Seokjin bellows, miming the action of drinking. He skulks off to the bar without waiting to get approval from Hoseok and Jimin totters behind his hyung like a lost chick. There’s a fairly large gathering at the bar, sweaty bodies pushing as close to the alcohol as possible with disregard to others around them. Hoseok manages to intimidate a few people to make way for them, a feat that surprises Jimin every time it happens. His hyung is too full of brightness for Jimin to ever see him as intimidating. It’s much like how Yoongi is far too soft and Namjoon is far too caring for Jimin to find them threatening. He guesses it’s just because he’s been conditioned to see only their good qualities and is thus immune to their gangster ways. “Are you kidding me?” Seokjin snaps, the man has been beyond irritated all night. Jimin wonders if he lost his most recent case and makes a note to talk to him about it later – when there’s considerably less alcohol involved. “There’s only one fucking bartender working on a Friday night?” Hoseok taps his fingers on the bar. “There’s supposed to be two.” He explains. Jimin rolls his eyes. “Well, we know where the other one has snuck off too, don’t we.” Seokjin narrows his eyes at Jimin. “Does this have something do to with my brother?” Hoseok chuckles. “When does it not?” Seokjin huffs, folding his arms and glaring daggers at the only overworked bartender, like it’s going to make him speed up. They wait in silence; the thumping beat of the dance music throbbing in their ears and Jimin can even feel the heavy bass echoing in his chest. Jimin’s always loved dancing, not that he did much of it now a days, but he joined every dance club available to him when he lived in Busan. He danced throughout University too, just as a hobby mind, but he loved it all the same. They wait promptly three minuets before Seokjin has enough and lifts himself up to sit on the bar. “The fuck you doing?” Hoseok bellows. “Getting a drink.” Seokjin replies, leveling Hobi with a look that says ‘try and stop me’. Hoseok shakes his head, a small exasperated smile pulling at his lips before Seokjin twists himself to land behind the bar. Seokjin sets to work right away, hands pulling at bottles and cups as he fixes himself what looks like a martini. He hasn’t dressed up much for the evening, not like Jimin and Taehyung, but Seokjin has never really needed to try to look amazing. His hair is currently blonde, and styled just as impeccably as always, neatly falling around his forehead and slightly into his eyes. He’s wearing black jeans and an oversized white shirt, of which is glowing faintly under the UV lights behind the bar. The purple in the lights makes his skin look flawless and smooth and it makes

Jimin pout. He’s always been insanely jealous of the Kim’s faultless skin. “Hey beautiful, rum and coke when you’re done.” A patron practically wolf whistles Seokjin’s way and Jimin can feel the irritation radiating off his hyung in waves. Seokjin saunters to stand in front of the man, freshly made martini in hand. He sips on it casually, eyeing the patron with sharp dissecting eyes. “Come again?” He asks and it would take a moron not to hear the annoyance in his voice. “I said I want a rum and coke.” The guy repeats, clicking his tongue like asking politely for something is the bane of his existence. Seokjin’s lips pull into the most devilish of smiles, all mirth and venom. “Do I look like a bartender to you?” “You are behind a bar, sweetheart.” The man retorts and his companions snicker at the comment. Seokjin is laughing along with them, but Jimin can tell it’s at them rather than with them. “Call me sweetheart one more time.” The man is leaning over the bar, getting uncomfortably close in Seokjin’s space. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Seokjin scoffs taking one more sip of his martini before he dumps it all over the guy. There’s a rippling silence that stretches out from the man dripping in alcohol all across the bar, as everyone watches the scene intently. For a while there’s just the loud music and the flashing club lights as everyone within range of the incident waits with baited breath. The man wipes stinging spirit out of his eyes and then glares at Seokjin. “What the hell is this?” “Your drink.” Seokjin replies, arms folded across his chest. “I only know how to make martinis.” “What kind of a fucking bartender are you?” The man spits, anger raging through his veins like it’s the air he breathes. “I’m not a bartender you disgusting testical wart. And if you managed to rub your two brain cells together you’d be able to see that. The hell is wrong with you?” Seokjin spits. The man is gasping at words that are struggling to be pushed out of his mouth in the heat of the moment. Seokjin tuts. “My friend is sleeping with the owner you fuck wit. That’s why I’m behind the bar helping myself to drinks.” “HYUNG!” Jimin splutters, face so red he’s sure it can be seen under the make-up job Taehyung had done on him. “Alright, alright.” Hoseok finally intervenes, tugging on Seokjin’s arm to drag him out from behind the bar. Seokjin narrows Hoseok with another glare. “Don’t patronize me, Hobi. I came here under the pretense of free booze. But it’s been two hours and I’m not even slightly buzzed.” He complains. “And that fucking idiot of an ameba made me spill my martini!” “Jesus hyung, what crawled up your ass and died?” Hoseok scoffs. Jimin sighs. “Lets just get another drink in you, okay?” He suggests, pushing Seokjin firmly into one of the chairs at the side of the dance floor.

Seokjin flops down willingly, running a hand through the neat locks a little exasperatedly. “Sorry, I’m ruining the night.” Seokjin laments. Jimin shakes his head. “No, no. It’s all right. The night was supposed to be celebrating Tae’s return anyway. But the asshole’s gone and ditched us.” “Typical.” Hoseok snickers. “I’ll be back, I’ll get you that martini.” Jimin suggests, glancing Hoseok’s way to double check that’s okay. The man nods before promptly sitting in the seat next to Seokjin. Jimin waits around 15 minuets before he even manages to get to the front of the group gathered around the bar. He’s feeling a little too squished for his liking, and he’s certain there have been some ass touches that were in no way accidental. He blames Taehyung for that; the man practically manhandled him into a pair of black leather pants and a tight fitting navy blue crop top that had Yoongi almost bursting a blood vessel. There’s far too much skin on show that Jimin is comfortable with now that he’s happily married. Along with his lower stomach and arms, a fair amount of his chest in on display thanks to the low Vneck cut of the top. His ass and thighs are so squished into his pants that literally nothing is left up to the imagination either. When Jimin thought it couldn’t possibly get any sluttier, Taehyung had attacked his face with dark smudges of kohl and cherry red lip-gloss that made his lips look plumper. It’s no lie that he looks hot and everyone knows it, especially when Yoongi had dragged him into the bathroom before he left just to liter Jimin’s golden neck with hickeys. Growling all through it to; ‘not let anyone touch what’s mine.’ Fuck, Jimin just loves it when his husband gets aggressively possessive. He presses his fingers carefully into the marks on his neck, tingling at the memory and a warm smile bursts across his lips. He feels arms snake around his waist just as he gets to the front of the group and Jimin goes ridged, ready to smack the living daylights out of whoever it is. He feels lips press close to his ear sending an involuntary shiver running down his spine and he snaps his eyes closed. “I thought I told you, to stay with Hoseok.” Yoongi breathes into his ear and it melts all the tension in Jimin’s muscles. Jimin smirks, spinning in Yoongi’s hold to wrap his arms around his husband’s neck. He’s dressed just as impressive as usual, black suit and red shirt with a skinny black tie. His hair has dried a little fluffy from a shower he must had had before heading out, but Jimin thinks it just looks cute “What kind of a pick up line is that?” Jimin teases. Yoongi’s smirking darkly. “Why would I need to pick up what’s already mine?” Jimin clicks his tongue. “You’re so romantic, honey.” Yoongi’s hands snake down to grab at the globes of Jimin’s ass, squeezing them appreciatively. “Shut up and kiss your husband already.” He orders and Jimin happily obliges. There’s wolf whistles and catcalls going on around them, people shoving into them by mistake as they force their way to the bar. But Jimin doesn’t care, nothing in the world matters when he’s wrapped up in Yoongi’s arms. “Really? You two are exhibitionists now?” Taehyung bellows so loudly over the noisy music that Jimin’s pretty sure everyone in the club heard him. He detaches his face from Yoongi’s, cheeks so

hot you can cook an egg on them, before hiding away in the collar of his husband’s jacket. “I’m so very close to strangling you, Kim Taehyung.” Yoongi warns, hands still fondling Jimin’s ass like it’s his favorite play thing. Which Jimin supposes it really is. “Kinky.” Taehyung shoots back, and Jimin can just imagine the added finger guns to really annoy Yoongi. “But really, there’s not a lot of time. I told Jin-hyung that I got us a VIP room so he doesn’t have to wait for alcohol.” “I don’t have a VIP room, Taehyung.” Yoongi illuminates. Jimin removes his head from Yoongi’s collar, cheeks considerably cooler. “He’s not going to believe that the employee coat closest is a VIP room.” “Oh I know.” Taehyung replies, hands on hips. “My hyung is the smartest of beans. S’why I’m gonna push him in at the last minuet, but Namjoon’s gotta already be in there.” “This is so fucking stupid.” Yoongi grouses. “Namjoon’s upstairs, I’ll bring him down.” Jimin giggles. “Look at you contradicting yourself.” “Sunshine.” He warns, but there’s no bite in his words. He does, however, give Jimin’s ass another squeeze, pulling Jimin closer to him. Jimin can feel his crotch rub against Yoongi’s, the friction made all the more wonderful by the fact Jimin’s pants are so tight. “Alright, but be quick about it. Apparently some demon of a being is possessing my brother and turned him into such a snappy asshole.” Taehyung explains. “Poor Joon.” Yoongi sighs, leaving one last kiss to Jimin’s lips before letting go. “Stay where Hoseok can see you.” Jimin nods, already knowing the drill and watches as both his husband and best friend slip their way out of the alcohol hungry crowd. He turns his head and sees Seokjin huffily nattering Hoseok’s ear off, the later of the two looking as though he’s going through every type of meditation under the sun to stop himself socking Seokjin in his beautiful face. Seeing as Jimin’s already at the bar, and Seokjin is about to be far more pissed than he already is when he finds out he’s been doped, Jimin decides that his hyung deserves two martini’s instead of the one. He spins on his heels back to the bar, smile plastered on his lips ready to scream his head off to get the bartenders attention this time. But he’s pleasantly surprised to find he’s already stood in front of him, ready to take Jimin’s order. There’s a smile on the bartenders face too, but it’s a forced, tired even, and Jimin thinks it’s kind of familiar. As he gets a better look at the bartender, there are a lot of things that look familiar about him. He’s pretty tall, taller than Jimin and but he looks lean under his baggy oversized work shirt. His hair is dark; Jimin thinks it’s probably a very dark brown on the verge of black and looks messy atop his head like it’s been pulled on. There are piercings in his ears, glistening under the UV lights and his eyes are large and doe like. Actually this kid reminds Jimin very much of a rabbit. He kinda reminds him of Jungkook, Jimin always thought the kid was kind of bunny looking. What with his little front teeth that poke out just a little bit when he smiles or how his nose scrunches when he concentrates… Jimin can feel the realisation seep over his face, and he can see it mirrored in the bartender’s. The kid’s eyes are blown impossibly wide, mouth hung agape to reveal little bunny teeth.

“Jungkook?” Jimin squeaks. “Seonsaengnim?” Jungkook squeaks back. And then the two are just staring at each other like they’re in a Mexican standoff, jaws dropped and eyes wide as the world turns around them. There’s too much running through Jimin’s head to be able to pull on a single train of thought. But he knows as the more mature one, and as the responsible adult in the equation, he needs to find the right words. Why the hell is Jeon Jungkook even here? Working behind a bar? Does Yoongi know? Has he lied about his age? Holy shit, Jimin’s dressed like a slut. Jungkook’s never going to take him seriously again. He was going to order two martinis, two. Fuck, this is the worst place in the world for a student to find him. This is the worst place in the world for a student to be. Just as Jimin is finally deciding on a jumbled thought to follow that vaguely sounds like ‘fuck, slut, here, why?’ Jungkook books it and Jimin finds him just staring blankly at the empty space where the boy used to be. It takes only a few seconds for his shock addled brain to catch up with what’s just happened however and Jimin slams his hand on the bar making the people around him jump. “Fuck.” Jimin spits, pushing his way back through the crowd, mind too focused on watching where Jungkook goes. He’s slamming into bodies in his haste, cusses being spat his way as he jets past – but Jimin doesn’t care in the slightest, this is no time for politeness. Jungkook slips his way out the front door of the club and Jimin is right on his tail. Thighs pushed to the limit to reach the boy before he slips out of Jimin’s grasp. Jimin manages to catch a hold on the boy’s T-shirt just outside the front doors. He stomps his feet into the side walk, pulling the both of them to a long stop. Jungkook tries his hardest to break free from Jimin’s hold, but Jimin is stronger than he seams. “Jeon Jungkook, stop running, turning around and face me like the goddamn adult you’re pretending to be.” Jimin scolds, voice so loud in the night he can hear a hurried silence fall over the que of people waiting to get into the club. Jungkook stills, all fight in him dying as he heaves in deep breaths from the warm night air around them. Jimin waits patiently for Jungkook to collect himself, hand not loosening its grip on the boy’s T. “Are you gonna call the cops?” Jungkook finally asks and there’s so much venom in his voice that it shocks Jimin. He sounds so defensive, more so than usual and Jimin’s fear only intensifies. “No, I’m not gonna call the cops.” Jimin replies and he tries to keep his voice authoritive even though he really wants to shower the boy in affection. “But I need you to talk to me.” Jungkook mulls over Jimin’s words for a minuet before nodding sharply and turning around to face his teacher. Now that they’re out of the dizzying UV lights, Jimin can see that Jungkook does indeed look far older than Jimin knows he is. There’s dark kohl around his eyes, smooth foundation on his skin and his hair has been dyed a chocolate brown since the last time Jimin saw him. Even though the boy still looks as lanky as always, his shoulders are thicker and more muscular than Jimin had realised, hidden well under the baggy and tattered uniform that he’s only ever seen the boy in. His pants are tight, almost as tight as Jimin’s own and they make his legs slender and body taller and it just breaks Jimin’s heart. He doesn’t want to even begin to fathom the reasons as to whey Jungkook has to pretend to be an adult and work in such a shady area. But he knows he has too.

“Is this for money?” Jimin asks softly, arms flopping dejectedly to his sides now that he has nothing to cling onto. “Do you need money?” Jungkook looks so disgusted that Jimin can feel the boys glare piecing his skin. “No. It’s not.” “Then why are you here, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin asks and regrets the familiar speech immediately when Jungkook flinches away at the kind words. He scoffs. “You’d never understand.” “Let me try.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Did your husband tell you, is that why you’re here?” Jimin is blinking blankly at the boy. “Yoongi? No, he didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t even know you were here till I saw you.” Jimin blushes remembering his attire and wraps his arms around his bare waist. “I’m here with friends.” Jungkook runs his eyes over his teacher again and there’s a strong blush that settles on his cheeks. “You should go home.” “Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.” Jimin counters, and he can hear the slight hysteria in his voice. Jungkook’s face hardens like stone. “It’s none of your fucking business, teach.” He shouts back. “Then fucking make it my business, Kook.” Jimin snaps back, anger filling his head forcing him to speak before he’s even realised what he’s said. Jungkook’s face drops into a mask of pure shock at his teacher’s harsh words, and Jimin finds himself mirroring it, cheeks a little hot. “Shit, I’m sorry I’ve had wine and I really don’t do well with alcohol.” He blabbers. Jungkook didn’t need to know that, and yet here Jimin is nattering away like a brainless idiot. Jungkook huffs out a tired laugh, hand running through his chocolate locks. “Sure, whatever.” Jimin wines, frustrated that he’s not doing a very good job at being a good teacher and role model. “Shit, Jungkook, you really need to tell me what’s going on, I’m worried.” Jungkook looks harsh again. “Why would you be worried? Scared you’d loose your job for not reporting me or something?” Jimin feels so offended. “You honestly believe I think like that? You think I’d completely disregard your needs in favour of saving my own ass?” Jungkook shrugs casually, hands slipping into the pockets of his tight pants. “Everyone else does.” Jimin feels a pang in his chest. “I didn’t ask about others. I asked if you believe I would think like that.” He levels Jungkook with a stern straight look; one laced with all the support Jimin has to offer. Jungkook looks conflicted, painfully conflicted, and Jimin wants nothing more than to ease his pain and shoulder all his troubles. He’s 19, he’s still a kid and Jimin hates the thought that the world has been so unkind to him. He can see Jungkook’s mouth opening gingerly, ready with a retort on his lips and Jimin can feel the exhaustion seeping out of the boy’s body. He can see the plea for help in his eyes, the desperation to have someone help, someone understand.

“JEON!” A booming voice bellows, snapping up Jungkook’s mouth like a mousetrap. Jimin watches Jungkook’s body go ridged, features harden in a mixture of fear and panic. “You said you came with friends, any of them work for that Mafia boss husband of yours?” He asks hurriedly and panicky. Jimin’s eyes blow wide. “How’d you know that?” Jungkook levels him with an ‘are you serious’ look and Jimin mentally slaps himself. “Right, right, you’re working at Yoongi’s club, okay.” Jimin rattles. “Seonsaengnim, focus.” Jungkook pleads and Jimin really doesn’t like the desperation in his voice. “Yoongi’s here.” Jimin explains in a whispered voice and Jungkook goes so incredibly pale, Jimin would think the boy is sick. “OI! JEON!” The voice bellows again, it’s closer this time and it’s accompanied by ambling footsteps that echo of the pavement. Jungkook flinches at the sound, hand coming down to grip on Jimin’s wrist. “Jungkook, what’s wrong?” Jimin tries once more. Jungkook doesn’t answer, instead he pulls Jimin to stand behind him, grip so bruising tight that Jimin can feel the boy shaking. “Jeon, you worthless piece of shit. Answer me when I god damn call for you.” The voice snaps once more, his voice is slurred and Jimin wonders if he’s drunk. He peeks around Jungkook; and his eyes connect with the sight of a stout man with a thick head of black shimmering hair atop his head that Jimin is sure is fake. His eyes are thin, the right set around puffy dark skin that looks as though it’s caused from a fresh punch or two to the guy’s cheekbone. There’s stubble all over his chin and cheeks, his nose is crooked, jaw slightly off center and his bottom teeth jut out over his top set. The guy screams gangster and Jimin doesn’t like the fact Jungkook seams to be on first name basis with someone like this. “S-sorry.” Jungkook stutters and his body tenses like it’s preparing itself to be attacked. The man titters, tongue heavy in his dislodged mouth. “Disobedient brat.” He scolds. “This is the second time tonight you’ve snuck off, don’t think I didn’t notice your little rendezvous behind bar with that slut.” Jimin tenses, body pinched with a mix of fear and anger. “I hope you at least had the smarts to slip him something?” “I’m sorry I just thought –” Jungkook tries again his voice is so timid and his head is hung low in shame that makes Jimin feel sick. But before Jimin can get a better understanding of what’s going on, Jungkook is silenced by a large, chubby hand colliding harshly with his cheek. The sting of the slap echo’s ominously around the street, so loud the nattering que waiting to get inside goes silent once more and Jimin can see them all watching the scene intently. Jimin is frozen where he stands, shock flaring through his veins that he’s struggling to accept what just happened. His brain is screaming, screaming in pain for Jungkook, in fear for the both of them and in anger towards the ogre of a being before them. “Listen here you little runt, there’s no room for you to be thinking for yourself anymore.” The Ogre grabs at Jungkook’s hair and pulls him harshly towards the floor. Jimin can see Jungkook’s face twisted in pain, hands darting to his hair to try and prize it free. “I own you, got it?”

The words send an electric shock of animation through Jimin’s limbs and suddenly, he’s moving before his brain has caught up with him. Stepping around Jungkook, who’s fighting back tears that are welling in his eyes, straight for the Ogre of a human being. The asshole’s face is smirking snarkily down at the frightened boy in his grip, not even fazed by the amount of pain he must be inflicting. Jimin swings his fist back before the Ogre can even clock onto Jimin’s sudden movement. He pushes all his weight into the punch, stepping into it like it’s the final blow in a boxing match that will secure him the victory. Jimin can hear the rewarding thunk as his fist collides with the Ogre’s jaw; the look of pure surprise and horror plastered across his face making the whole ordeal even more satisfying. The Ogre tumbles away from Jungkook in a grunt of pain, hand slipping from the boy’s chocolate locks, and Jimin doesn’t even pause to marvel at his work. He grabs Jungkook by the wrist and drags them both at top speed back into the club. He can hear the triumphant cheers from the onlookers in the que along with the rushing of wind past his ears as he runs without looking back. He can feel a throbbing across his knuckles, his heart is hammering wildly in his chest and there’s a tremble in his legs. But he pushes past it, fueled on pure adrenaline as he focuses on putting as much distance between them and the Ogre as possible. “JIMIN!” Hoseok yells over the loud thumping of the music, and it’s enough to snap Jimin back to reality and stop in his tracks. Hoseok is pushing his way angrily through the crowed, face set in a hard grimace that doesn’t belong on his ‘brighter than the sun’ hyung. He pushes himself right into Jimin’s personal space, hand clamping down onto the tops of his arm and squeezing tightly. “Where the hell did you go? Are you fucking insane? Do you want a repeat of what happened last time?” “Where’s Yoongi?” Jimin snaps back, mind still reeling angrily. Hoseok narrows his eyes. “With Tae, dealing with the whole Jin and Joon situation.” “Tell him to meet me upstairs now.” Jimin demands, voice not to be messed with and it has Hoseok blinking at him in surprise. “Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook wines from behind Jimin. Jimin snaps his attention to the boy, hands leaving his wrists to cradle his face gently. The boy looks terrified, eyes squinting in pain and there’s a big red mark blossoming across his cheek. “You might need some ice.” He analyses before turning his head back to Hoseok. “Bring some ice upstairs too.” “Mochi…” Hoseok warns, eyes hardening at the sight of Jungkook and Jimin can feel the boy tense under his touch. “Stop fucking gawking, Hoseok and just do it.” Jimin snaps, body turning to stand protectively in front of Jungkook, left hand slipping back down to entwine with the boy’s. Hoseok glares for another second or two, clearly salty, but Jimin’s not in the mood to appease him. “Fine. I’ll take you upstairs first.” He concedes with a grit of his teeth. Jimin nods, hand already tugging Jungkook in the right direction, but the boy doesn’t move. Jimin snaps his head to him, eyes softening at the terrified look on the boy’s face. “What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, eyes scanning over every inch of the frightened boy’s face. “I don’t want to go upstairs.” Jungkook replies in such a quiet broken voice, that if Jimin weren’t so close he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“We have to go upstairs, Jungkook.” “Please, don’t make me.” “We have to meet Yoongi up there.” “Please.” Jungkook begs again, but this time there’s harsher; shallower breathes puffing out of his lips. His pupils have dilated to the size of saucers and Jimin can feel his hand shaking uncontrollably within his own. Jimin can tell immediately what’s happening, feeling the panic attack bubbling through the kid as if it were happening to himself. Jimin is there instantly ready to catch the attack before it blows up. He tangles his other hand with Jungkook’s and holds his gaze as best as he can in the harsh darkness of the club. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, Jungkookie.” He explains, face so close to his student’s that their foreheads are practically touching. He squeezes the boy’s hands. “Copy my breathing if you have too, but just focus all your thoughts and energy on that for me, understand?” Jungkook nods shakily, his breath is ragged but still there and he slams his eyes shut as he concentrates. Jimin pulls in a deep breath, holds it for two seconds and then releases it gently, Jungkook mimicking his actions albeit a little shakily. Jimin repeats the action twice before he lets Jungkook continue on his own, thumbs rubbing soothingly and encouragingly into the back of the boy’s hands. “That’s right, just keep doing that. You’re doing so well, Jungkookie.” Jimin praises. “Just keep breathing, and listen to my voice, okay?” Jimin asks and he feels Jungkook squeeze back in understanding. “I’m going to take you up to Yoongi’s office, okay?” Jungkook flinches, body tensing and Jimin hushes him as soothingly as possible. “I know you’re scared, but I need you to understand that I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Jimin explains and he laces as much sincerity into his words as he can muster. Jungkook’s breathing is finally evening out without as much shaking in is, finally calming down, but Jimin doesn't want Jungkook to freak out again if he forces him to go upstairs. “Squeeze my hand if you understand.” Jungkook does so, weakly and timidly, but he does and Jimin smiles gently. “Okay, well done.” He praises.

____________ Saturday 01:15 Yoongi’s upstairs office is small in comparison to the man’s numerous other ones and is seriously lacking in furniture. There isn’t even a desk, just two large sofas and a coffee table between them. There’s a small window on the farthest wall with grey blinds drawn so that thin slats of streetlight strip across the whole room. It smells musky, like it hasn’t been used in the longest time and Yoongi hasn’t bothered to air it out. The carpet is dingy with tares and holes across its dark blue surface and the white walls are cracked and peeling. It’s clearly no way near up to Yoongi’s high standards, and Jimin can tell that little thought process went into the design of this room. Especially considering the plush and high end looking clubroom bellow. It’s quiet in a way that makes all the hair on the back of Jimin’s neck stand on end. He can’t hear the thumping of the bass through he floorboards, or the faint muffled hum of people shouting

over the music. Which means the room must be soundproof. Jungkook is shivering; Goosebumps raised against the poor kids golden skin and his full bottom lip is quivering like he’s cold. Jimin has an arm wrapped around Jungkook’s shoulders, the boy is hunched over dejectedly and timidly on the couch with Jimin, hands clasped tightly together in his lap like it’s his last lifeline to hold himself together. They wait a whole 15 minuets in the office, silence the only thing filling the time, before Yoongi slams his way into the room. He looks beyond unhappy, he looks pissed, and Jimin can feel the fear rise in the boy in his arms. Yoongi’s eyes scan carefully over every aspect of the two men huddled together on the couch. Jimin can see his husband’s eye narrowing at Jungkook’s reddening cheek and Jimin’s reddening knuckles, lips pulling in a grimace at the sight of the frightened boy huddled into Jimin’s side. However a wave of pride washes over Jimin as he watches Yoongi take a deep steading breath and softens his face just a smidge, effectively curbing is anger and worry. “Hoseok is bringing up the ice, do you need anything else?” He offers, stepping into the room and shutting the door with a soft click. The sound is small in the vast quiet of the dingy office space, but Jimin still feels Jungkook flinch next to him. “Not right now.” Jimin offers tentatively, sending silent thanks to the calm way his husband is dealing with the situation. Yoongi nods once, walking further into the office and slipping his suit jacket off his arms. He looks tired than he did before, if that’s even possible, and Jimin just wants to take all his husbands exhaustion out of him. Yoongi gently slips the jacket over Jimin’s shoulders and Jimin hums in thanks, slinking his arms through the sleeves quickly so that he can go back to holding Jungkook supportively. Jungkook is as tense and ridged as wood, eyes trained on his clasped hands as he tries to suppress his shivers. Yoongi places a small kiss to Jimin cheek, “Tell me you’re alright, at least?” He asks in a quiet voice that’s only meant for Jimin to hear. Jimin nods. “Let’s talk about it when Hobi-hyung comes back.” He suggests. Yoongi nods and Jungkook flinches hunching further in on himself. Yoongi, understanding Jungkook’s distress, seats himself on the couch opposite with his legs crossed and hands resting on his knee. His gaze never once leaves Jimin, he can feel his husband watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye, but Jimin is too busy watching Jungkook. He’s anticipating the moment the boy to falls into another break down; he can feel Jungkook’s impending panic permeating the air around them and it makes Jimin’s insides twist in knots. But he doesn’t say anything, not right now, because it’s not what Jungkook needs. He needs less time being interrogated and more time being helped and Jimin is ready to limit the interrogation to its bare minimum. They wait in silence for another 15 minuets, the room still as it anticipates the impending heavy conversation. “Why do we need so much ice?” Taehyung’s voice chuckles from just beyond the door and it snaps all three pairs of eyes in the room towards it. “Does Yoongles even have anything to go with this up here besides scotch?” “Just open the fucking door, Tae.” Hoseok grouses.

“Tae?” Jungkook’s meek voice asks as the door opens to reveal the man himself. He’s pushing his brown locks away from his forehead with an exhausted look on his face like he’s been forced into working against his will, when in fact it’s Hoseok that’s carrying all the ice. Jimin is only now noticing how disheveled his best friend is looking in comparison to the pristine look he was sporting when they first got here. His slightly curled hair is ruffled and fluffed in a way that looks like someone has been pulling on it. The kohl under his eyes is smudged from what Jimin can only assume is from his eyes watering and the pink gloss on his lips is all but gone, replaced with heavily swollen red lips instead. His long sleeved baby blue shit is buttoned wrong, his tight grey jeans have slipped so far down his hip bone that his underwear should be on show, but Jimin is certain Taehyung is no longer wearing any. It isn’t long before Taehyung’s eyes land on the boy sitting next to Jimin on the couch. A huge boxy grin splits his face and he lets out an excited. “Kookie!” Jimin feels a horrible sense of dread building in his stomach as things click together in his brain. “Taehyung.” He wines in a mix of pure disbelief and disgust. “You didn’t.” Taehyung doesn’t even look the slightest bit guilty. “Jiminie.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I did.” And Jimin is beyond mortified. “Holy shit.” “Seonsaengnim?” Jungkook asks, voice shaky. Taehyung’s mouth drops open like a fish. And if it were any other situation, Jimin would be laughing at the dramatic change. “Oh.” Taehyung breathes. “Oh, what?” Yoongi demands, the annoyance he’d been trying to keep down earlier suddenly bubbling back into his tone. “My student, Tae!” Jimin squawks causing the boy next to him to flinch and Hoseok almost drops the bucket of ice he’s carrying. Hoseok cuts Taehyung a disbelieving look. “You just can’t keep it in your pants, can you?” He teases. At least Taehyung has the decency to blush this time. “You’re making this out to be worse than it is.” “You slept with my student.” Jimin elaborates and he can hear Yoongi chocking on his breath as he’s finally brought in on the loop. Jungkook wines dropping his head to hide in his hands and Jimin finds himself moving away form the boy to give him some space. “Taehyung shrugs, “So? He’s 19, not really a kid.” “He’s in high school you cradle snatcher.” Hoseok chuckles in mock horror that’s really not helping the situation. “Last year of high school.” Taehyung looks outraged. “I’m 24, the age gap aint that bad.” He huffs. “Plus, he’s old enough to work behind a bar.” “You’re working in my club?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide as they snap to Jungkook. Jungkook doesn’t respond, his silence worrying. “Are you telling me the obsessive, controlling Min Yoongi, didn’t know a minor was working in his club?” Taehyung is smirking devilishly and even Jimin wants to wipe it off his face.

“Watch your mouth.” Yoongi grits. Hoseok cackles. “God forbid we point out that Yoongi-hyung is human in front of strangers.” “Hoseok, shut up.” Jimin snips and Yoongi smirks with pride shooting a snarky look Hoseok and Taehyung’s way. Jimin is all but ready to chew his husband out too for being so petty when a chocked sob snatches his attention back to the boy by his side. “Kookie?” Taehyung asks. All fight in his voice gone and laced with tentative worry. “You okay?” He asks stepping closer to the boy. Jimin kicks himself for not paying more attention, as whilst the four of them bickered, Jungkook’s panic had reached its braking point. “Jungkook.” Jimin whispers, hands reaching out to hug the boy again, but Jungkook just flinches away. Jimin can hear Jungkook’s breathing is ragged, mixed with barely contained sobs and his fingers are shaking around his face. Taehyung drops to his knees in front of the boy. “Hey, it’s alright.” Taehyung coos, hands hovering near the boy’s shoulders but choosing not to touch. “No ones mad at you really. Yoongi-hyung’s just a bit of a dick that’s all.” “Taehyung.” Yoongi warns. Taehyung clicks his tongue. “See what I mean.” He offers Jungkook lightheartedly, but the boy doesn’t show any signs he’s listening. “He’s actually not that bad. He’s whipped beyond belief for your teacher, so if Jimin likes you Yoongles-hyung likes you.” “Don’t call me that.” Yoongi groans, but it falls on deaf ears. “Jungkookie.” Jimin begins, shuffling himself closer to the cowering boy. “My promise still stands. I wont let anything happen to you.” “Me either.” Taehyung agrees. Yoongi sighs. “Nothing will happen while I’m around, that’s for sure.” His words feel more comforting than they sound and Jimin’s proud that his cold husband is trying to be more open in the face of a vulnerable kid. Jungkook tenses at the words, fingers balling in front of his face before his tears fall unbidden and uncontrollably down his cheeks. Taehyung, being the overly empathetic person he is, can’t sit by and give the weak boy the space he needs anymore. Jimin can tell his own best friend is shouldering every emotion Jungkook is giving him and Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook’s torso to pull him tightly to his chest. With shaky arms, Jungkook grips around Taehyung’s back, face burying into the blue fabric of Taehyung’s shirt as he lets out uncontrollable sobs.

____________ Saturday 01:45 Jungkook cries for what feels like an eternity and the whole room waits patiently for the boy to let out all of his emotions. As the boy starts to calm down, Jimin can hear his voice is hoarse from sobbing, can see his hands shaking from clinging to Taehyung and eyes puffy from too many tears. Jimin can tell the boy is tired beyond the events of this evening and it’s not long after he’s cried all

the tears he has to spear that he ends up passing out. He can see exhaustion etched so deeply into the kid’s skin. An exhaustion that’s come from more than just being found working underage in a club by his teacher. It’s an exhaustion that doesn’t belong on a 19 year old who has barely had a chance to live. It hurts Jimin so deeply and so sharply that if he weren’t trying to keep himself together for the boy, he’d be crying for him instead. Taehyung follows Jungkook not long after, resulting in the two curled up together on the sofa, snoring lightly into the tense and quiet room. Jungkook lays on top of Taehyung, who in turn is curled around Jungkook like a koala, grip still tight even in sleep. It’s a peaceful sight at least, and Jimin pushes Jungkook’s long chocolate bangs off his face. “I always knew that kid was trouble.” Hoseok sighs from the other side of the room. The bucket of ice by his feet has probably long since melted in the warm office, but no one has bothered to go and get more. Jimin clicks his tongue irritably. “His not trouble, he’s troubled.” “Isn’t that the same thing?” Hoseok counters ignorantly. “You’re a bad teacher.” “I know, s’why I’m not one.” “Either way, I need to know what happened.” Yoongi cuts in. He leans foreword on the couch to rest his elbows on his knees. “Before anything can be done, I need to be filled in.” Jimin nods. “I don’t know much, just enough to know that there’s some fucker here that claimed to own Jungkook.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in consideration. “Own him?” Jimin nods. “Disgusting ogre of a being.” He’s seething at the memory, and his hands tense in his lap. Yoongi has slipped off the couch and into the empty space beside Jimin to cradle Jimin’s hands. “Care to explain this?” He asks, fingers running tenderly over the red knuckles. “He slapped Jungkook.” Jimin explains. “And?” “I decked him in the face.” Hoseok whistles. “That’s hot, Mochi.” Yoongi glares at him. “Didn’t you leave Namjoon and Seokjin locked in a closet downstairs?” Hoseok pales. “Oh shit.” He spits before running full speed out of the room. Yoongi turns his attention back to Jimin. “Sunshine…” Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t give me a lecture about how I could have gotten hurt, Yoongi.” Jimin begins, feeling far more exhausted than he really should be. “There was no way I was just going to sit by and let the poor kid be…” Yoongi silences Jimin’s ranting with a kiss that pops Jimin’s eyes wide. They separate quickly; kiss

brief but still leaving Jimin breathless. “What was that for?” Jimin asks a little breathlessly. Yoongi is smiling his signature gummy smile that makes Jimin swoon every time he sees it. “I’m so proud of you.” He beams and Jimin feels himself melting at the praise. “Y-you are?” Yoongi kisses him again, brief but passionately and Jimin finds his head spinning. “My only regret is that I didn’t get to see you punch the asshole in the face.” Jimin flushes hot and Yoongi chuckles. “Hoseok’s right, it’s pretty hot.” Jimin batters him in the arm, hiding a smile behind his other hand. “Stop it, this is the time to be serious.” He scolds, but it’s lighthearted. Yoongi hums, schooling his features. “I know.” He agrees. “What do you want to do, Sunshine?” “Honestly, I really don’t know.” Jimin answers, teeth worrying into his bottom lip. “I need Jungkook to talk to me, I don’t think anything can be decided until we know what’s happened to him.” Yoongi nods. “Okay.” He agrees easily, planting a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “I’ll agree with whatever you decide to do.” Jimin sighs, heart full of love. “I’m so lucky to have such an understanding husband.” Yoongi snickers. “Aren’t you just?” Jimin rolls his eyes and pushes himself to his feet. “Where are you going?” Yoongi asks, alarm in his voice breaking the soft moment they just shared. “The bathroom?” Jimin offers, surprised by the possessive action. “I wont be long.” “Wait for Hoseok.” Yoongi demands tightening his grip around Jimin’s hand. Jimin sighs. “I don’t need to be escorted to the bathroom. I punched a guy in the face today.” He teases, but Yoongi looks serious. Jimin narrows his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Yoongi snaps all too quickly. “Is this something to do with the guy I punched, or is this about the whole work related thing you wont tell me about?” Jimin reasons. Yoongi’s eyes narrow just a tad. “Maybe, both.” “This work related thing, has it got something to do with the club?” Jimin pushes once more. “I don’t think you want to know.” Yoongi replies and there’s a dark undertone to his voice that sends a shiver down his spine. Jimin waits for a beat, taking in the harsh expression of his husband before finally conceding. “Alright, I’ll wait.” He agrees slumping back onto the couch.

____________ Saturday 01:59

“I really, really need to go, love.” Jimin argues, hand on the doorknob ready to run for his life when he gets the all clear. He’s bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, teeth worried into his lip. Yoongi currently has his arms wrapped possessively around Jimin’s waist, holding him tightly in place. “Hoseok said he’s already on his way, just, for me, please wait a little longer.” Jimin wines. “I’m at bursting point, please don’t make me piss myself in front of our friends.” Yoongi snorts, arms tightening in their hold. “Just come with me?” “I’m not leaving Taehyung unsupervised, even if he is asleep.” Yoongi shoots back. “Then I’m peeing on my own!” He declares defiantly wriggling his way out of his husband’s grip. “Sunshine!” Yoongi berets Jimin just sticks his tongue out playfully at his husband. “Bye now, baby.” Jimin taunts, flinging open the door and throwing himself down the steps with Yoongi shouting after him.

____________ Saturday 02:10 The bathrooms aren’t nearly as soundproof as they should be. Jimin can hear the music loud and clear as if he’s peeing in the main clubroom rather than a little room near the back. At least they’re clean, a feat in and off itself when it comes to any sort of bathroom that’s used by drunken idiots. Jimin huffs as he pulls himself back into his skin tight pants, they sit awkwardly on his skin now that he’s taken them off and sweated them back on. He buttons Yoongi’s jacket around himself, expertly covering the odd way the pants cling to his hips and then opens the stall door to go wash his hands. “Hello Princess.” Jimin doesn’t even have a chance to scream before a cloth is covering his mouth, a horrid smell filling his nostrils and his vision is going black.

____________ Saturday 03:30 “Bye bye, husband-ssi.” The man taunts before slamming his foot down so hard onto the ring, the sound of his foot hitting the floor echoes around the room. But through the loud stomp, Jimin can hear the sickening crack of the band as it snaps under the pressure of the man’s foot. He feels his heart shatter at the same time, but his mind is still racing to fully comprehend what’s just happened. It feels like time has stopped, Jimin the only thing that’s moving as the devastating reality that his wedding band has just been ripped from him and broken sinks in. And then he bursts into uncontrollably loud, ugly tears.

He doesn’t cry for very long before the front door to the apartment slams open and steals the man’s attention away from Jimin. Jimin can’t find it in himself to stop crying long enough to see who’s interrupted them, completely engulfed and consumed by sadness. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are making my husband cry. But I hope you understand that’s it’s now warranted your death.” Yoongi growls viciously from the doorway. Jimin should feel relief at the fact he’s been found; at the fact he’s going to be safe. But the sound of Yoongi just makes him cry harder, wails echoing so loudly round the room that Jimin is certain he must be waking up the entire apartment block. He feels like he’s five years old again and Lee Junseo in the class above him just ripped the arms off the T-Rex toy his mother saved up to buy him for his birthday. He feels so riddled with guilt, so pathetic and useless and it just makes him cry even harder. “Oh shit, he made Mochi cry?” Jimin can hear Namjoon ask, but he’s not sure where he is. “I’m going to remove your spleen through your throat and then force feed you your own testicals.” Yoongi spits. “Nasty.” Hoseok comments. “Who the fuck are you?” The ring smasher spits. “That would be your boss, Cho.” Namjoon snaps back, voice not to be messed with. Jimin just cries more. “Shit, Jimin’s really upset.” Hoseok sounds almost as sad as Jimin feels. There are hands cupping his face and tilting it upwards. But there are too many tears marring Jimin’s vision for him to be able to see clearly. “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is so close and so worried that Jimin’s wails just double. “Shit, Sunshine, talk to me, what happened?” Jimin responds with a mixture of cries, unrecognizable words and hiccupped breaths. Yoongi’s hands leave Jimin’s face for a moment, just to collide harshly with the face of Jimin’s kidnapper – Choi. “You worthless piece of shit, why is my Sunshine crying?” “S-sir, I-I can explain.” Choi pathetically begs. Yoongi hits him again. “What the fuck did you do?” He spits. Jimin lets out another particularly loud sob the results in Yoongi’s hands tenderly cupping his face once more, hushing him gently. “What did he do to you Sunshine? Tell me, tell me and I’ll fix it.” He promises desperation mixed in with the reassuring words that just make Jimin feel all the more guilty. “R-ring.” Jimin stutters through hiccupped sobs, willing himself to calm down long enough to at least try and put his emotions across. “Ring?” Yoongi repeats, wiping up the tears that have stained Jimin’s cheeks. Jimin nods. “H-he b-broke it.” He stutters. Yoongi cocks his face to the side. “I can just buy you a new ring, Sunshine.” He offers, and Jimin can tell he’s trying to be supportive but it’s not the words he wants to hear. Jimin starts sobbing again, like a newborn baby, eyes heavy with fresh tears. “Sunshine, you have so many rings as it

is…” Yoongi tries to reason, but the fact he just doesn’t understand makes just doubles Jimin’s frustrations. He’s irritated that he can’t calm down long enough to explain what’s wrong, and it’s working him up even more. Yes Jimin has more rings than he does fingers for them, but there’s no way he’d be this upset over any of those being broken. This is his wedding ring, the symbol of their love, and it’s in pieces on the floor by Jimin’s feet and Yoongi has no idea because Jimin is too upset and ashamed to tell him. Yoongi is clearly just as frustrated as Jimin and he lets out a growl, dropping his hands from Jimin’s face to punch Choi once more. “You’re disgusting.” And his fist connects with Choi’s face over and over again with no end in sight. Every hit makes Jimin’s stomach turn and he’s so thankful that his vision is too blurry to fully see what’s going on. “Yoongi.” Namjoon cuts in, he’s closer to Jimin now and he’s thankful at least one of them is calm. “I understand why Mochi is so upset.” Jimin is sniffling now; breaths pulling shakily through his lips as he tries to blink unshed tears from his eyes. But the sudden thought of seeing a bloody looking man before him has his eyes snapping shut quickly, a weak whimper falling past his lips. “Is that…” Hoseok begins from the other side of the room. “Jimin’s wedding band, yeah.” Namjoon finishes. And it just sets Jimin off into more uncontrollable tears. He’s too caught up in his sadness to hear or see what happens next, throat stinging with every sob that pushes out of his mouth and eyes swelling from the amount of tears irritating them. He can feel the ropes being untied from around his ankles and writs before fingers rub tenderly into the marks they must have left behind. “Alright, Sunshine, it’s alright.” Yoongi soothes as gently as his raspy voice can manage. “I’ll take care of it, okay?” Jimin finds himself nodding strongly, arms reaching out to be held through his tears. Yoongi wastes no time scooping Jimin up into his arms and out of the chair. “’m sorry.” Jimin sobs and Yoongi’s grip tightens tenfold. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Sunshine.” Yoongi promises, lips pressing gently to Jimin’s forehead. “Now let me handle everything.”

Chapter End Notes

Who loves a good cliff hanger? I LOVE A GOOD CLIFF HANGER^* So, I really struggled with the flow of this chapter and I still think the ending reads a little rushed?? (っ- ‸ – ς) I might go back and change it in the future, but for now I'm satisfied with how it turned out. There's alot of things that have been set up in this chapter that will be explained in more detail in following chapters, so anticipate alot of unasnwered questions being tied up in the future ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/ Basically THE STRUGGLE WITH THIS CHAP WAS REAL! But I hope you like it! I will try to do better in the next one! ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ Writing for Tae is, and always will

be, the best thing to do because thE BOY IS A PRECIOUS BEAN OKAY! also, SAVE KOOKIE2K18 Thank you so much again for your kudos, kind words and support! You're all too flattering and I wish I could give each and everyone of you a hug （´・｀ ）♡ But for now, I hope you can make do with my virtual hugs~~ And as always, come be my friend on twitter hmu♥ and feel free to ask me anything whether it's Umbrella and the rain related or like, weather related I don't mind~ I love hearing from you all (*°∀°)=3

We Are All Afraid of Pain Chapter Summary

We need to talk about Jungkook.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

There’s a horrible sluggishness that clings to your body when you wake up after crying yourself to sleep. Jimin’s eyes feel so heavy he thinks they may never open properly again. His face feels so numb and puffy that it pulls tight and uncomfortable when he moves his mouth. Plus there’s a scratching at his throat that he knows will make his voice sound raw and rough. Jimin feels weakness in every bone and muscle of his body as his eyes sluggishly open against the harsh light of a new day. There’s a distinct feeling of embarrassment and regret hanging heavily in his stomach, the makings of a killer headache stinging at his temples and he groans remembering how much he uncontrollably cried yesterday. “Good morning.” Yoongi whispers into quiet of their room. “What time is it?” Jimin mumbles and there it is, the scratch in his voice. He winces at the sound and Yoongi hums soothingly. “A little after 10am.” Jimin rolls in the bed to face his husband, squinting through his heavy eyelids. Yoongi is sat propped up against the headboard of their bed; fingers tangled with Jimin’s left hand. “Why are you awake?” Jimin asks, coughing at the end of his question to try and rid himself of his scratchy voice. Yoongi just smiles softly down at Jimin. “I couldn’t sleep.” Jimin can see the dark bags under Yoongi’s eyes; the heavy droop of his shoulders and the flat line of his mouth and Jimin feels so guilty. It’s very clear his worry wart of a husband stayed up all night watching over him, despite the fact the man probably hasn’t had longer than a couple hours sleep over the last few days. Jimin stretches out his free hand to make grabby motions at his love. “Lay down with me.” He pleads in a soft voice. Yoongi smiles gently and slides himself to curl around Jimin under the blankets, hand never parting from Jimin’s left one. Jimin tangles his legs with Yoongi’s, free arm slipping around his husband’s hips, crossing over Yoongi’s own arm as it reaches round to pull Jimin closer to him. Yoongi lets out a long sigh, as if releasing all the tension in his body, relaxed now that he’s wrapped in Jimin’s embrace. There faces are inches apart from each other, their tightly grasped hands curled between their chests and Jimin can feel an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. Yoongi does that too him, makes him calm even by just being near him. “How are you feeling this morning, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks softly.

Jimin sighs. “Sad.” Yoongi tightens his grip around Jimin’s hand. “I’m in the process of fixing that.” “How? I’m pretty sure a broken ring is a broken ring.” Jimin winces at his own words as if feeling them stab his own heart. Yoongi hushes him and plants a kiss to his forehead. “A ring can be fixed Sunshine, and even if it can’t I’ll just buy you another one.” “No.” “No?” “That ring is a symbol of our marriage, of our love and of our commitment to each other. It can’t just be replaced.” Jimin hisses, hating the sound of the words almost as much as the thought itself. Buying a new ring makes Jimin feel like their love isn’t worth much value. A value that matters anyway, a value that can’t just be bought. “I know.” Yoongi replies, voice ever so gentle as his eyes run over Jimin’s face. Yoongi always takes his time looking at Jimin, as if the man can never get enough of him. As if every time he looks at Jimin he sees something new and wants to etch every detail perfectly to memory. “But like you said it’s only a symbol.” “Don’t…” Jimin begins through a sigh. A flare of irritation rising in his throat at the thought that Yoongi doesn’t regard their wedding rings as importantly as Jimin. Yoongi is squeezing his hand reassuringly again. “You need to let me finish what I’m going to say before jumping to conclusions.” Yoongi explains. “I’m not jumping to conclusions.” Jimin counters. He hates the fact he’s feeling so irritated, but currently all his emotions are rubbed raw and on full display like an exposed nerve, so it really can’t be helped. He supposes it’s more productive than crying, at least. Yoongi hushes him again pulling their tangled fingers up to his lips. “You are, I can see it written all over your beautiful face.” He kisses Jimin’s empty ring finger and the action stabs painfully at Jimin’s heart. “My face is puffy this morning.” Jimin mumbles. “So your compliment is bias.” “You’re always beautiful to me.” Yoongi reassures, kissing his empty ring finger again. “Like I said, bias.” Jimin mumbles, but his cheeks are flaming hot. Yoongi hums. “Sometimes I wonder if you know how much I actually love you.” He ponders, pulling his free hand up to push some stray hairs away from Jimin’s face. “I love you so much that sometimes it pains me, I’m surrounded by nothing but you and it suffocates me, crushes me and cripples me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jimin’s lips quiver at the words, feeling his husband’s love deep in his soul. “Yoon- “ He begins, wanting nothing more than to recuperate the feelings, and bathe this wonderful man in as much love and affection Jimin can muster into words. But Yoongi shakes his head to silence him and Jimin worries his teeth into his bottom lip, patiently waiting for his love to get all his words out. “I am you and you are me, Min Jimin. So when you’re happy I’m elated, and when you’re sad I’m

devastated.” Yoongi is stroking his fingertips along Jimin’s cheek. His touch is so light, as if handling something so delicate it could break at any minute, and the gentleness brings a tingle to Jimin’s cheek. “I hate it when you cry Sunshine. I hate seeing you so sad because it hurts me so much and all I want to do is fix what’s made you so distressed.” His kisses Jimin’s ring finger again, eyes locked onto it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Sometimes I wonder whether you love me as much as I love you. Because why would something so bright, so pure and so wonderful ever love something like me?” “Yoongi, please – “ Jimin hurts at the words, but Yoongi hushes him again and Jimin tries to clamp down on the ache stabbing his chest. “I felt happy that you were crying over your wedding ring being broken.” Yoongi confesses in such a small voice as if worried for some absurd reason that Jimin might hate him for saying it. “Because the moment I placed that ring on your finger; was the happiest moment of my life. I got to show the whole world that you belong to me, you’re mine for the rest of time and no one else can have you.” He sighs, sagging deeper into the mattress like he’s just unloaded a huge weight off his shoulders. “But it’s only a symbol. Our wedding rings are nothing but superficial in the wake of the amount of love I hold for you. I would buy you a hundred wedding rings if you so desired, because to me, it’s only an emblem. I will not love you any less with or without it, in fact I think I love you even more from all this if that’s even possible.” He chuckles, low and deep whilst still fiddling with Jimin’s naked ring finger. “I will spend every second of everyday telling the world how much I love you, screaming to the heavens that you are mine and mine alone – and nothing will stop me, not even the lack of your wedding ring.” Jimin can feel tears prickling at his eyes again. Tears he thought he had cried out the night before. He can’t find the words to express exactly how he’s feeling, because he’s simply feeling all too much all at once. He surges foreword, lacing his hands strongly through Yoongi’s fingers and wrapping himself as tightly to his husband as he physically can. “Were you worried I would be upset?” Yoongi asks tentatively and quietly. Jimin just nods, his face nuzzled against Yoongi’s neck as he sniffles back the tears that are threatening to fall again. Yoongi’s free hand wraps round Jimin, cradling his head against him. “I would never be upset with you over something like this, it’s strange to me that you think I would.” “I don’t feel right without it.” Jimin mutters shakily against Yoongi’s skin. “I feel bare, like a part of me has been ripped away.” Yoongi’s grip tightens. “I know, but I promise I’ll fix it, okay?” And Jimin nods. Knowing fully well that his husband would die by his words and it sends a flutter of admiration through his chest. “I just need you to not be so upset over this anymore. Please it’s killing me, Sunshine.” Jimin sighs. “I’ll still be sad over it until it’s back.” “I can fix that too.” Yoongi replies carefully detangling their hands. Jimin cranes his neck down to see what Yoongi’s doing and his breath catches in his throat. In a swift movement, too swift for Jimin to be able to protest, Yoongi has his own silver wedding band off his ring finger and is sliding it onto Jimin’s. Yoongi brings it up to his lips and kisses it once more, lips lingering against the cool metal. “Now you can carry apart of me with you while we wait for yours to be fixed.” Jimin chokes on his sob, eyes overflowing with the tears he had been trying to hold back. He sniffles, pulling their entwined fingers towards his lips and in turn kisses Yoongi’s bare ring finger. There is so much love in his chest that he’s not sure what to do with it and simply begins pressing more kisses across Yoongi’s hand, tears pressed into his husband’s skin as he goes.

“Baby, baby…” Yoongi coos. “Why are you crying?” “I’m happy.” Jimin whispers on a shuddering breath, squeezing Yoongi’s hand so tight between his own. “These are happy tears, they’ll stop soon, I promise.” Yoongi’s hold around Jimin tightens. “So long as you’re happy, then so am I.” Yoongi doesn’t say anything more as he cradles Jimin tightly and lets him get out the last remaining tears he has to shed. Jimin melts into his husbands embrace, letting the man consume his senses and his mind as he slowly calms himself down. Jimin is nothing but thankful everyday for the honor of getting to be the man that loves Min Yoongi. He’s more than elated that through a sea of people, Yoongi picked him and loved him through all his insecurities and troubles. Jimin willingly gave a piece of his heart to Yoongi the moment he laid eyes on the man, and over time, filled that space with a piece of his husband’s heart. “What are you thinking about?” Yoongi asks after the sniffling and tears dye down and a tranquil silence falls about the room. Jimin sighs contentedly. “Of how lucky I am that I get to call you mine.” He explains with a small smile on his lips. “Actually, I think I’m beyond lucky, I’m blessed.” Yoongi chuckles. “Would you say, that you’re punching above your weight?” And there it is, the beautiful moment shattered around them through the mention of their embarrassing wedding night. Jimin knocks him playfully on the shoulder. “Why are you such an ass?” “It was such a perfect opportunity, I just had to take it.” Yoongi clarifies through a gummy smile. Jimin ends up pouting in an attempt to try and stop his own smile. “What part of ‘never speak of this again’ is too hard for you to grasp?” Yoongi kisses the pout on Jimin’s lips. “You’re cute.” Jimin can’t stop the smile now, the pull of his tight tear soaked skin across his puffy cheeks giving just a little from how wide he’s smiling. “You too.” Yoongi twists his face in disgust. “I’m not cute, I’m dark and brooding and scary.” Jimin giggles, pecking his husband’s lips. “Of course you are, darling.” He placates. “You’re my terrifyingly cute mafia husband.” Yoongi is pouting harder this time. “M’not cute.” He insists. Jimin just continues to smile at him, heart light in the wake of everything that’s happened. But then the events of the night before hit him like a freight train and Jimin feels a cold dread seeping through his veins. “Why was I kidnapped?” He asks in a small voice. Yoongi tightens his hold reassuringly around Jimin and kisses his temples in an attempt to elevate some of his distress. “For once, not because you’re married to me.” Yoongi starts carefully. “Then why?” Yoongi sighs. “I really don’t want to tell you.”

Jimin nods. “I know. But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it involves Jungkook.” Yoongi explains and Jimin feels sick. There’s a lump in his throat and he tries hard to swallow it down but his mouth is as dry as the dessert. “H-how?” Yoongi runs a soothing hand through Jimin’s dark locks. “I don’t know. He’s refusing to talk to anyone but you.” The words calm Jimin a little, reassured that at least the boy is willing to talk, even if it is just to Jimin and even if it’s not to say much. It’s a starting point at least. “Then I’ll listen to him.” Jimin explains. “He’s pretty upset.” Yoongi warns. “You had worked yourself up into quiet a mess when I brought you home, and I could tell the boy felt guilty about it.” Jimin can barely remember the events that transpired after Yoongi had found him. He can just about remember being carried into one of Yoongi’s town cars, brought back to their home and taken straight to their bedroom. There could have been numerous people around them throughout the journey, but Jimin was too caught up in his head, body shaking with uncontrollable sobs and sanity clinging onto the feel of his husband beneath his hands. He’s not even sure whether Choi is dead, but he’s more than 99.9% certain the man is. He’s just thankful he didn’t have to witness the death of his kidnapper this time. “Is he here?” Jimin asks quietly. Yoongi nods. “Taehyung stayed with him in the main guest room.” God bless Kim Taehyung. “What about Namjoonie-hyung and Jin-hyung?” “They’re here too.” Yoongi clarifies. “Hoseok’s on the couch.” “A full house I see.” Yoongi groans. “Lets try not to make it last too long, hm?” He teases. “You love it really, you big softie.” “You’re wounding my honor here Sunshine. You can’t go around calling me cute and soft.” Jimin grins. “I call it like I see it, sweetie.”

____________

Jimin finds the two youngest of their little gaggle wrapped around each other once more. The sight is soft on the eyes and even softer on his heart and for the first time in a while, Jimin thinks Jungkook looks peaceful. The covers are knocked haphazardly around them, Taehyung clinging to the younger

boy’s back so that his arms are pulling Jungkook flush to his chest and their legs are tangled together. Taehyung’s chin is hooked over Jungkook’s shoulder and Jungkook has turned towards it, his face nuzzled in Taehyung’s mess of blonde locks. The both of them are still dressed in their clothes from last night, looking just as debunked and disheveled as Jimin remembers. But Jimin finds he doesn’t care half as much as he did the night before over the fact the two had slept together. Not when Jungkook looks so peaceful and so safe in Taehyung’s arms. Jimin is more than a little thankful however, that Yoongi had managed to slip him out of his clubbing attire and into one of Yoongi’s oversized black sweatshirts and a pair of Jimin’s grey sweats. Because having to spend one more second looking like a slut around one of his students would have sent him to an early grave from embarrassment. Gently, Jimin sits himself on the edge of the bed, hand pushing back Jungkook’s chocolate brown locks as he takes in the peaceful scene before him. If he could, he would leave the two as they are and let Jungkook continue to sleep through worriless dreams. He feels guilty that he can’t even grant the boy a peaceful sleep in the wake of everything that’s happened. He can see Jungkook’s eyes stirring behind his eyelids, his body twitching in Taehyung’s hold as he slowly comes round from slumber. Jimin continues soothing his hand through the boy’s hair, lips pulling in the gentlest of smiles as the boy blinks away his dreams. “Seonsaengnim?” He mutters groggily, eyes trying hard to focus on Jimin. “Jimin.” He corrects and that seams to snap Jungkook out of his sleepy state. He furrows his eyebrows at Jimin, face pulled into a confused expression. “Seonsa- “ “Jimin.” He repeats again. Jungkook takes a moment to understand what Jimin is telling him before nodding slowly. “Jiminhy…” He cuts himself off, slamming his lips shut like he was just about to give away top-secret government codes. Jimin continues to smile, chest blooming with affection for the overgrown bunny boy. “Jimin-hyung sounds nice.” He explains, hands never once ceasing in their tender glide through his hair. Jungkook swallows and nods again. “Jimin-hyung.” He whispers, as if testing the name on his tongue. “Good morning, Jungkookie.” Jimin greets. “I’m sorry I worried you.” He can see tears collecting in the corners of the boy’s eyes, but before they can fall Jungkook is scrubbing them away roughly with his hand. “Are you feeling okay to talk?” “Are you?” Jungkook retorts, worry in his voice. Jimin nods and stands to his feet. “Let’s not wake Tae, okay?” He explains holding out his hand for the boy to take. Jungkook just stares at Jimin’s outstretched hand for a few minutes as if contemplating if it’s really there. He swallows once more, nodding to himself and then proceeds to carefully untangle himself from Taehyung’s tight hold. Taehyung groans a little at the loss of his cuddle buddy, but his arm reaches out for one of the pillows and cradles it in Jungkook’s place with a sleepy satisfied sigh.

Jungkook gingerly laces his hand with Jimin’s and Jimin can feel the boy shaking. He gives Jungkook’s hand a reassuring squeeze before quietly and slowly leading the both of them out of the room. The apartment is quiet in the early hours of the morning. Too quiet for the amount of occupants it’s holding and it settles a little eerily on Jimin’s ears. He can feel the tense atmosphere permeating the air and he can feel a large stone like lump form heavily in his gut. He takes a couple steadying breathes to keep himself together for Jungkook’s sake, hand squeezing the boy’s reassuringly every now and then. He leads them to his bedroom, the door cracked open ever so slightly and his husband nowhere in sight. No doubt busying himself in his home office to give the two of them some privacy. Jimin shuts the door softly behind them, hand still clasped tightly around the younger’s, before leading them over to the bed. “Sorry, there’s a lot of eavesdroppers in my home today and I thought you’d want some privacy.” Jimin explains pulling the boy to sit with him on the bed. “I suppose it’s not a very good place to have a serious chat.” Jungkook flushes. “I don’t mind.” He mumbles retracting his hand from Jimin’s hold to fiddle with nervously in his lap. “A-are you really okay?” He asks quietly. “H-he didn’t do anything to you?” “Who Choi?” Jimin asks and Jungkook nods, eyes resting on his nervously twiddling hands. “No he didn’t do anything to me.” Jungkook looks at him then, worried disbelief washing over his face. “But you were so upset…” “I’ll be honest with you Jungkook, because I think you deserve it.” Jimin smiles tentatively. “I was upset because the man broke my wedding ring. So physically, I’m fine, but emotionally I’m a little bruised.” Jungkook winces at the words, eyes dropping back to his lap. “But I think it’s nothing in comparison to what you’re going through.” “I was really scared.” Jungkook whispers through a dry voice. “You were gone for such a long time before anyone realised you had been taken and I just – “ He chokes on his words, sniffling back tears that have collected in his eyes once more. Jimin hushes him gently, pushing himself closer to the boy on the bed so he can cradle the boy’s hands in his own. “That’s not your fault.” “It is.” Jungkook replies and there’s so much sadness in his voice that it breaks Jimin’s heart. “I highly doubt that.” “You don’t understand.” Jimin squeezes his hands. “Then let’s try and help me understand, hm?” Jungkook sends Jimin a terrified look and Jimin’s hold just tightens around Jungkook’s shaking hands. “You’ll hate me.” “Again, I highly doubt that.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You will, you’ll despise me and I don’t think I can handle that.” Jimin hums. “Jungkook, there’s nothing in the world that you could possibly do or say that will make

me despise you.” He explains. “You know of the types of things my husband does and yet I still love him unconditionally. So you could tell me that you throw puppies into the Han River every Sunday morning, and I would still be unable to despise you.” Jungkook looks unimpressed. “You promise?” “Cross my heart.” Jungkook takes a deep, shuttering breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know where to start?” “The beginning is always a good place.” Jimin urges. Jungkook nods slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I belong to Choi.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “You work for him?” Jungkook shakes his head. “No, I belong to him.” He clarifies. “As in I was sold to him to clear my father’s debts.” There’s a lump in Jimin’s throat. “Sold?” Jungkook nods. “My father, he’s a real nasty piece of shit.” Jungkook scoffs. “Drinks more than he eats, never worked a day in his life and depended entirely on my mother as a source of income.” He shudders and Jimin finds his grip on the boy tightening. “He’s the epitome of a bad father and beat my mother one too many times for her to stick around. So one night she just snapped, emptied out all our bank accounts and ran away with my elder brother.” Jimin’s sure he’s going to be sick, his stomach is twisting in knots and the lump in his throat is making it harder and harder for him to breath. “What about you?” Jungkook sighs. “She left a note. She said it was harder for her to take the two of us and run. She said she’d come back for me.” “How long ago did she leave?” Jungkook shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I lost track after the first two years of waiting.” Jimin feels white-hot anger flooding his system and he clings to it like a lifeline. Wallowing in the emotion to keep him from breaking down in pain for the boy before him. “Safe to say, without a solid income my father grew restless. I’ll never forget the first time he hit me, fucker went all out and smashed a glass bottle across my face.” Jimin winces, feeling Jungkook’s pain so empathetically. “My face was littered with cuts but I had one so deep that it wouldn’t stop bleeding. He wouldn’t let me go to the hospital, he locked me in the bathroom for two days and I had to keep a wad of toilet roll pressed to my cheek the entire time. It stung when I cried.” Jimin can see the remnant of the incident on the boy’s cheek in the form of a scar. So deep and do obvious, that Jimin feels disgusted he hasn’t noticed it before. “But he still continued to drink. There’d be empty cans and bottles littering the floor of our house, but the fridge and cupboards would be empty. Our water and electricity was never shut off so I knew our bills were still being paid. I should have paid more attention to where the asshole was getting his money from, but I was still a kid, I just didn’t think.” He takes a deep shuddering breath and Jimin rubs soothing circles with his thumbs into the skin of

Jungkook’s hand. “You’re doing really well.” He praises and he can feel Jungkook relaxing just a little. “He borrowed more money then he could ever even dream of paying back.” Jungkook’s voice is hoarse. “I don’t think he ever intended too either. He’s a fucking idiot, but a cunning idiot, I think this was his plan all along.” “To sell you?” Jimin squeaks. “To get rid of me.” Jungkook clarifies. “It happened around about the start of 3rd year. Choi and Kang came banging their way into our apartment demanding they be paid what they’re owed and my father just pushed me towards them without even a seconds thought.” “Who’s Kang?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth. Jungkook smirks. “The one you decked in the face.” “Well now I feel less guilty about that.” Jimin grumbles letting out a long huff that pushes his hair out of his face. “Continue.” Jungkook nods, the tense atmosphere of the room melting for just a moment. “Long story short, Choi and Kang were more than willing to let the debt fall on my shoulders, with the intent that it would be paid off through my being their underling. I was taken from my home of 18 years without as much as a single goodbye from my father and to be honest, I was glad I was out of there.” “Where did they take you?” Jungkook’s eyes fall back to his lap, “You’ve been there. It’s where Choi took you.” He mumbles and god, Jimin just wants to wrap this boy in blankets and smother him with love for the rest of his life. Jungkook has been living for the better part of a year in a dingy flat that’s falling apart at the seams. He’s pretty certain the place has no running water it’s that neglected and Jimin thinks the world is beyond cruel. “Choi and Kang don’t live there, obviously. So I at least had that.” Jungkook defends and Jimin wants to punch Kang all over again and Choi too for good measure. “They let me continue going to school because it would have been more hassle for me to drop out, what with my being a minor and all. They would wait for me to get home from school and lock me inside the apartment and then let me out in the morning when it was time for me to leave again. I don’t know why, but to me, it was more of a home then anything I’ve ever had.” Jimin is squeezing Jungkook’s hand so tight he thinks he could break it. “That’s not a home, Jungkookie, that’s a prison.” Jungkook shrugs. “No one bothered me, so I got a lot of studying done. I hoped that I could get good enough grades so I could get a good job and pay back my father’s debt that way. But I realised pretty soon that it was wishful thinking.” “What happened?” Jungkook gulps, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “It was around the time you stayed late to help me with my mid terms that they made me bartend at the Lavender Room. I didn’t think much off it, Kang was put in charge of the place, so he could easily cover the fact I was underage, plus I thought it meant I could pay back the debt quicker.” He swallows again, mouth clearly just as dry as

Jimin’s. “I didn’t realise what they were really planning until it was too late, and by that point there was no way I could do anything to stop it because I was an accomplice.” “An accomplice to what?” Jimin’s voice hangs heavy in the air. “Did you know that there’s currently a turf war going on in Itaewon?” Jungkook asks, eyes screwed shut. “Because there is, a smaller gang wants to take control over the area because your husband’s influence has been seriously lacking and it’s the perfect chance to strike.” “I didn’t know that.” Jungkook nods. “I thought as much, it’s no secret that the Leader’s Mochi is the most precious thing to him. He probably doesn’t tell you half the things he gets up to, does he?” Jimin shakes his head. “There’s a limit.” “Wise.” “I like to think so, yes.” Jungkook nods. “Well, this gang, they’ve got more of their claws into Itaewon than I think your husband realises, including the Lavender Room because the uncertainty is causing a lot of people to jump ships.” Fuck. “Like Choi and Kang?” Jungkook nods. “They haven’t sworn loyalty to the other gang, but that hasn’t stopped them taking advantage of the situation for all it’s worth.” “I’m guessing this is where my kidnapping comes into play?” Jungkook nods. “The other gang, the little one, they were offering huge sums of money in exchange for bodies they can sell for things I don’t even want to think about.” He shivers, breath catching in his throat and Jimin is there hushing him as best he can. “It’s alright, you’re doing really well.” Jimin soothes. “Th-they made me do it.” Jungkook stutters. “And I couldn’t say no.” There are tears gathering in his eyes again but his hands are too tightly clasped in Jimin’s to be able to scrub them away. “They said I didn’t look suspicious and people would be more likely to slip away with the pretty bartender than a creepy looking thug.” His tears are falling unbidden down his cheeks now, bunny teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he tries to keep himself from completely breaking down. “I-I had to bring them into th-the upstairs office a-and knock them o-out and Choi would b-bringing them back to the a-apartment.” He stutters through his words shucking in a deep quivering breath. He takes three more deep breaths to calm himself down before he continues. “I thought maybe I’d be able to free them somehow when I returned back from my shift, but by the time I got home – they’d already be gone.” His voice catches on a sob and Jimin just can’t contain himself anymore. He pulls the boy into a hug, squeezing him as tightly as he can and running reassuring soothing hands along his spine. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothes. Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “It’s not. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” “This is not your fault, Jeon Jungkook. None of this is your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong, I can

promise you that.” Jimin reprimands, trying to keep his voice gentle when all he wants to do is angrily scream on the boy’s behalf. Jungkook buries his face in Jimin’s sweatshirt, sobs muffled against the soft fabric, as he cries out all his fears and worries. Jimin just lets him, holding him tightly as if keeping the poor kid together and waits patiently as he cries. It’s the least Jimin can do for him, offer him comfort after suffering alone in a world that’s been far too harsh on a kid. Eventually Jungkook calms himself down until he’s just sniveling into the black sweatshirt. “Is that why you were so scared of Yoongi? You thought he might do something to you if he found out?” Jungkook flinches but nods nonetheless. “Do you still think that?” He shakes his head timidly. “You’re still scared of him though, aren’t you?” Another nod and Jimin sighs. “That’s okay, he’s just gotta work extra hard to prove to you that he’s not as bad as you think.” Jungkook scoffs. “I doubt that, everyone’s scared of Min Yoongi.” “I’m not, neither is Tae, nor Hobi-hyung, Namjoonie-hyung or Jin-hyung.” Jimin reassures. “And with time you wont be either.” “I dunno...” Jimin chuckles. “Well then, you’ll just have to trust me.” Jungkook doesn't reply, not giving any sing as to whether he agrees with Jimin’s words or not – but Jimin doesn’t mind. “I'm going to have to tell him.” “I-I know.” Jungkook replies. “Wh-what’s gonna happen to me?” “Nothing bad that’s for sure.” Jimin explains. “Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again I won’t let it.” “I’d really like to believe you.” Jimin pulls the boy away from his hold, hands gripping tightly into the tops of his arms and eyes locking sternly with Jungkook’s own. “I need you to listen to me Jungkook because what I’m about to say is very, very important, understand?” Jungkook nods, eyes as wide as a doe and mouth open in worry to display his bunny teeth. “Ookay.” “I can never be more sorry than I am for what’s happened to you, Jungkookie. But know that I will fight to keep you safe and happy. I will do whatever I can in my power and even in my husband’s power if I have to, to make sure that stuff like this, never ever happens to you again.” Jimin explains, fingers squeezing tightly into the tops of the boy’s arms. “You’re safe now, Jungkookie. Everything will be just fine.” “It will?” There are tears glistening in the boy’s eyes again, but there’s so much hope in them that Jimin can’t help but smile.

“I promise you, it will.” Jimin replies pushing the long bangs of the boy’s hair out of his face. “I promise.” “KOOKIE!” Tae bellows from the other end of the apartment and it has the two of them jumping out of their skin, moment completely lost. Their eyes snap to the door as the sound of footsteps thundering down the hallway fills their ears. The bedroom door snaps open, colliding heavily with the wall and knocking off two of the picture frames and Jungkook squeaks in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Taehyung looks like he’s just run a marathon, breath pulling heavily through his gritted teeth and chest rising and falling harshly. His eyes are wide with worry, hand shaking a little on the door and Jimin is sure he’s never seen his best friend look this anxious. “Tae Tae?” Jimin asks untangling himself from Jungkook to turn to his best friend. “You alright?” “You weren’t there, when I woke up.” Taehyung explains, eyes trained directly on Jungkook like he’s the only person in the room. Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook who looks just as confused as Jimin’s feeling. “I was talking with Jimin-hyung.” He explains in a small voice. Taehyung relaxes, small smirk pulling at his lips. “Jimin-hyung, huh?” Jungkook flushes and Taehyung coos bounding into the room. “You’re so cute.” He announces before throwing himself at Jungkook. Jungkook falls backwards on the bed with a loud ‘omph’, the wind knocked out of his chest as Taehyung snuggles comfortably on top of him. “Be a little more gentle, Tae, Jesus.” Jimin rolls his eyes. Taehyung kicks Jimin in the side with his foot. “He’s not going to break, Chim. Have a little more faith.” Jimin pokes his tongue out at his best friend childishly and Jungkook chuckles. “You’re okay, right Kookie?” Taehyung asks, face nuzzling into the younger’s chest. Jungkook looks a little taken back at the question, eyes blinking down at the gangly model that’s making himself comfortable on his chest. But then there’s a small, sweet smile pulling at his lips and he’s wrapping his arms around Taehyung to hold him closer. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” And Jimin thinks that for the first time in 18 years, Jungkook actually believes those words. However, Jimin’s body is still riddled with pain and sadness that he just can’t handle on his own. He sneaks away from the two youngest, who are too tightly wrapped around each other to notice him leaving and shuts the door to their bedroom once he’s left. Hoseok is sprawled out across the couch, blanket and pillow on the floor from where he’s tossed and turned in his sleep. The morning is chilly despite the fact it’s spring, and Jimin spares a few moments to wrap the fallen blanket around his hyung. The door to the office is just barely open; the gap between the door and the frame no bigger than that of a piece of paper and Jimin doesn’t bother knocking before entering. Yoongi’s eyes are already on him facing Yoongi as he shuts and locks the door behind him. “He can’t go home.” Jimin whispers into the silent room. Yoongi nods understandingly. “He’ll stay here.” “His father sold him to Choi and Kang.” Jimin explains and there’s a sob in his voice.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “I’ll handle it.” “I need to be apart of it.” Jimin explains and there’s a harsh set to his husband’s jaw that means he disagrees. “Please, I have to be apart of this. I feel too strongly about this, it’s tearing me up. I need to do something I-” Yoongi is out from behind his desk and cupping Jimin’s face as quick as a flash. “Alright, alright. I understand.” He soothes, thumbs gently caressing the apples of Jimin’s cheeks. Jimin nods, thankful that his husband just understands when Jimin doesn’t even have the words to express the emotions flooding his system right now. He feels like he could cry again, sob for hours on end like he hadn’t just spent the whole night and half the morning crying too. But now’s not the time for tears, he can’t waist time shedding more tears for Jungkook when there’s so much he needs to be doing to help him. He needs to be strong, and he knows he can lean on Yoongi and share in his husband’s amazing strength in order to do what needs to be done. ”We’ll make this better okay? Together, we’ll make this better.” Yoongi reassures once more before pulling Jimin in for a desperate kiss.

____________

It’s not long before the apartment is rowdier then the eerie silence that it was wrapped up in this morning. Jimin leaves the office with Yoongi; hand in hand and feeling less emotional now that he’s sharing his worries with his husband. Jimin sets about making breakfast, Yoongi sets about making coffee and the two of them dance around the kitchen, leaving lingering touches on each other and kisses to cheeks as they set about bringing sustenance to their friends. Hoseok is the next to wake up, having doing so from Jimin dropping a pan and it nearly landing on his foot. Yoongi is chuckling at his husband’s clumsiness; Jimin is battering his arm trying not indulge in chuckles of his own and Hoseok eventually comes sulking into the kitchen looking like a slapped ass. “Too noisy, too early.” He complains scrapping a stool across the floor and slumping into it. Yoongi slides a cup of coffee over to him and Hoseok wraps his hands around it thankfully. “Why are you even up hyung?” Yoongi shrugs before wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waist as Jimin sets about scrambling eggs. “Better things I can be doing than sleeping.” He purrs into Jimin’s ear and Jimin giggles. “You two will never stop being disgusting.” Taehyung comments, entering the room with Jungkook sheepishly in toe. Yoongi grumbles. “Good morning, hell spawn.” He greets. Taehyung cocks his head to the side as he slides into one of the barstools. “Weird you feel the need to say good morning to yourself.” “Deep breaths.” Jimin reminds, removing a hand from the frying pan to pat reassuringly on Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi grumbles in agreement and Jimin places a proud kiss to his chin. “Why don’t you get the plates, hm?” Yoongi nods, detangling himself to wonder over the plate cupboard.

“You can sit down, Kookie.” Taehyung reassures, patting the empty stool next to him and beckoning the kid over. “Ji-Jimin-hyung, I err – “ Jungkook begins and Jimin turns his attention to the boy. He’s standing awkwardly halfway between Jimin and the breakfast bar, hands twiddling nervously in front of him. “C-can I help? With breakfast?” Aish, this kid. Jimin smiles. “You don’t have to, you can just relax.” “Bu-but…” Jungkook begins. Yoongi places the plates on the breakfast bar with a loud ‘thump’ that causes Jungkook to jump. “No buts kid be spoiled for once.” He explains in a voice that’s not to be messed with. His softness needs some work still, but Jimin’s more than happy to see his husband trying. Jungkook nods. “All right.” He mumbles and Yoongi nods towards the empty bar stool for him to sit in. Jungkook does as he’s told, body sitting rigidly. “Relax kid, hyung wont eat you.” Hoseok laughs and Taehyung nudges him harshly in the ribs. “Sorry, Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook appologises meekly. Hoseok scoffs. “So Jimin gets to be called hyung, but I don't?” “I-I don’t really remember your name.” Jungkook mumbles. “You taught the 1st years.” “Charming.” Hoseok huffs. Yoongi is laughing as he pulls cutlery out of the draw by Jimin. “Harsh, I like it.” He praises. Taehyung is wrapping a reassuring arm around Hoseok. “There, there Hobi-hyung, not everyone can make decent first impressions.” Hoseok scoffs. “At least I don't use my dick to make first impression, Tae Tae.” He retorts and it has Jungkook squawking in mortification. Jimin shoots his hyung a sharp glare. “I know for a fact that’s bullshit, hyung.” “Me too.” Yoongi seconds. “And me.” Taehyung thirds and Hoseok is grumbling into his coffee from being ousted. Taehyung turns back to Jungkook, draping himself over the boy. “You can just call him Hobihyung, and don’t worry he’s harmless.” “Also, not really your teacher.” Yoongi adds. “He’s only there to look after Jimin.” Jungkook is nodding, mouth open into a little ‘o’ of understanding. “That makes a lot of sense.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hoseok snaps. Jungkook shrugs. “You carried around a baseball bat like it was a weapon.” Taehyung is chuckling right into Jungkook’s shoulder and even Jimin is cracking a smile as he

continues scrambling eggs. “Way to be subtle.” Yoongi remarks. Hoseok just rolls his eyes. “I am what I am, I do what I do.” “Babe, can you pass me the sesame seeds?” Jimin asks hand outstretched ready for them. Yoongi places the little container in his husband’s hands and then a kiss to his cheek that makes Jimin giggle. “Bet you never thought you’d see the great Min Yoongi being so domestic.” Hoseok chuckles and Jimin assumes Jungkook must be gaping at them. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms his suspicions and there’s a distinct red tint across the kid’s cheeks too. “Don’t worry, it gets real old, real fast.” Taehyung explains. “Chim Chim, when will you be feeding me?” “When the food is done, Tae Tae.” Jimin explains setting the sesame seeds on the side. “Do you still need this?” Yoongi asks picking up the container. “No, thanks Yoonie.” Jimin replies before Yoongi returns the sesame seeds to their rightful place. “Yoonie?” Jungkook whispers astonished. Taehyung hushes him gently. “Just let them be gross, ignore it.” “So close to throwing you out the window, Taehyung.” Yoongi warns spreading the plates across the breakfast bar. “Empty threats.” Taehyung explains, clearly to a mighty worried Jungkook. “Should I go wake Namjoonie-hyung and Jin-hyung?” Jimin asks with a cock of his head. “Or should I let them sleep in longer?” Taehyung shrugs. “I’ve washed my hands of the idiots, so you can do what you want.” “What do you mean washed your hands of them?” Jimin asks turning of the stove and turning to face his best friend. “What happened?” Yoongi sighs. “Taehyung’s just salty that I was right, and he was wrong.” “How so?” Jimin demands. “They slept in separate rooms.” Hoseok explains. Jimin blinks at his hyung, waiting for him to elaborate. “So?” “They slept separately, because they’re not together.” Taehyung seethes. “Even though they’re idiots in love and refuse to admit it.” Jimin is still ridiculously confused. “But are they talking again?” Hoseok smirks. “Like nothing ever happened.” “Then, why are you so pissed Tae? Weren’t we at least trying to get them talking again?” Jimin asks. “Taehyung’s bitter that he got scolded and his hunch was wrong.” Yoongi adds gleefully. “And I was right all along.” Jimin is more than a little surprised, because who would ever think that the great

emotionally constipated Min Yoongi would ever be right in matters involving the heart. Jimin sighs. “How sad, I really thought there was something there.” “Thought something was where?” Seokjin asks, sliding into the kitchen looking the epitome of perfection. It appears Jimin’s eldest hyung is the only one this morning that managed to wash off last night and pull on clothes that aren’t sweats. His hair is still a little damp, combed away from his face neatly and his skin is looking vibrantly flawless. He’s pulled on a large oversized pink hoodie and tight deep blue jeans that definitely belong to Seokjin despite the man not bringing an over night bag here with him. Jimin can only assume he’d stored them somewhere in the house for emergencies such as this. Jimin gulps, ready to change the topic of conversation breezily away from Seokjin and Namjoon when Jungkook pipes up to say; “Thought something was going on between you and Namjoonhyung.” “Holy shit, Jungkook.” Hoseok gapes. “Selling your hyung out at the drop of the hat is brutal.” Jungkook looks flustered. “N-no I-I just…” “Jung Hoseok, don’t tease the poor kid.” Seokjin scolds. “He’s a good kid for telling his hyung the truth.” Seokjin praises and Taehyung is giggling into the crook of Jungkook’s neck as the boy flushes. “But before we get into all that…” Seokjin begins sliding his way up to Jimin and pulling the boy’s face into his hands. He carefully scans over every inch of Jimin, hands gently keeping the boy in place. “Are you okay?” Jimin nods awkwardly in Seokjin’s hold. “Yes hyung, I’m okay.” Seokjin hums. “Good.” And then proceeds to smack Jimin across the head. “Shit!” Jimin yelps, flinching away from his hyung’s harsh hands. “What was that for?” “For being an idiot and meddling in things that shouldn’t be meddled with.” Seokjin scolds. “And locking me in a coat closet.” He reaches a hand out and smacks Jimin again for good measure and Jimin yelps once more. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Hoseok whistles. “You caved quicker than Taehyung.” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “He was always going to cave quicker than Taehyung, Jimin isn’t a brat.” “At least I’m not in denial.” Taehyung quips. Seokjin narrows his brother a stern look. “You exasperate me, child.” “Good.” Taehyung replies childishly sticking his tongue out. “Sunshine, do you want to plate up or should I?” Yoongi asks and it effectively snaps Jimin back into the moment. “Oh, I can do that.” Jimin offers spinning on his heels to grab the eggs. “I’m afraid we don’t have much in. I was meant to go grocery shopping today. So I hope eggs are alright.” Seokjin sighs. “Any form of food right now will be good, we can always go out to eat lunch later.”

“Always thinking with your stomach.” Taehyung teases. “Please, like you’re any different.” He turns to Jungkook with a soft smile on his face. “Is there anywhere you want to go for lunch, Jungkook-ah?” Jungkook looks a little put out by the sudden attention and shrugs. “Anywhere is good.” “Curry.” Taehyung declares. Yoongi blinks at him. “I’m sorry, is your name Jungkook?” “Curry sounds good to me.” Jungkook replies sheepishly. Jimin beams at the boy as he divides eggs across the seven plates. “There’s a really good curry place in Hongdae.” “I might have some things to see to, so you may have to go without me.” Yoongi explains. Jimin narrows his eyebrows at his husband. “Anything I can help with?” Yoongi hums, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waist again and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Maybe.” He kisses Jimin’s temple. “Don’t worry.” Jimin nods, heart squeezing in the reassurance that his husband is wrapping him in. “I’ll go wake up Namjoon then.” Seokjin sighs, turning on his heels. “Actually, make Hoseok do it, I need to talk to you.” Yoongi explains, head not moving from its position on Jimin’s shoulder. “After food. I function better after food.” Seokjin retorts before scuttling off down the corridor to wake up Namjoon anyway. Jimin has a strong overpowering need to spoil Jungkook that’s in no way subtle in the slightest. Not only does he give the biggest portion of eggs to the boy for breakfast he then proceeds to dump half of his own portion on the boy’s plate, for good measure before pushing it in Jungkook’s direction. It’s worth it though, when Jungkook smiles between his breakfast and Jimin. “Thanks Jimin-hyung.” Jimin leans across the breakfast bar, own eggs forgotten bar, with his elbows on the surface and face resting in his palms. “What do you want to do today Jungkookie? We can do whatever you want.” Jungkook swallows down his mouthful of eggs, eyes burning into his plate. “I-I should probably go home.” There’s an unnerving chill that settles over the kitchen. Everyone stops eating and their eyes zone in on Jungkook, struggling to comprehend what the boy just said. “They’re probably looking for me.” He adds in a meek voice. “They’re not.” Yoongi replies, the first in the room to break the awkward silence. Jungkook snaps his head to look at the mafia leader, eyes wide as saucers. “B-but…” Jimin reaches his hands out to Jungkook and takes the boy’s hands into a tight hold. “Let us sort out everything, okay?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. Even if Jungkook were to say no, Jimin and Yoongi would still do everything in their power to help. “I-“ Jungkook begins but is silenced by a hand in his hair.

“Just be a kid for now, okay?” Yoongi explains ruffling the boy’s hair gently. Jimin can feel himself splitting into a heartwarming smile as Hoseok and Taehyung stare in awe over Yoongi’s gentle mannerisms. Jungkook is flushing beet red, bunny teeth worrying into his lip. He nods and lets out a small timid. “Okay.” Before breaking out into another small smile. Jimin squeezes his hands reassuringly, chest full of adoration at the sight of the boy’s shy smile. Yoongi lets out a low gruff of understanding before walking over to his office. “Send Seokjin my way when he’s done.” He throws over his shoulder before disappearing.

____________ Jungkook eventually decides he wants to watch a movie and no one in the entire apartment can deny the kid anything. Jungkook’s standoffish aura is melting second by second and opening up to an innocent boy who’s been starved a childhood that Jimin wants nothing more than to give to him. “My father passed out relatively early one night and Iron Man was the next thing playing on the channel he was watching, so I watched it.” Jungkook shrugs like it’s no big deal whilst Jimin’s heart is breaking all over again. “It’s the only movie I remember seeing, but I did like it.” Taehyung animatedly grabs up Jungkook’s hand and leads him towards the couch. “Aren’t you just in luck that there are 3 Iron Man movies and 2 Avengers movies all waiting for you!” His face is pulled into his signature boxy grin but Jimin can see the pity swimming at the edges of his eyes. “Really? Do we have time to watch them all?” Jungkook asks and there’s clear excitement in his voice. Hoseok scoffs plodding into the living room behind them. “We can watch them all night if you want.” Taehyung pulls Jungkook down onto the couch and curls himself around the younger. Jungkook smiles, as his body maneuvers itself to get comfortable in Taehyung’s hold. “That would be fun.” He muses. “He’s a good kid.” Namjoon notes fondly as he finishes the last of his eggs. The trio in the living room are debating animatedly over which avengers character is better whilst Hoseok searches for the second Iron man movie. Seokjin sighs, pushing his empty plate away from him. “He is. It’s such a shame.” Jimin places the empty plates in the sink and lets out a small sigh. “Does this kind of thing happen often? Kids getting sucked into the underworld of Seoul and loosing their childhoods?” Namjoon shrugs. “Well yeah, how’d you think I got here?” There’s a shiver that runs through Jimin’s spine that causes Goosebumps to rise to his skin. He’d never asked Namjoon how he managed to be where he is; Jimin always just assumed that his hyung had been with Yoongi since they were kids – what with the way the two act around each other. Like they’ve known each other all their lives. “Don’t think too much into it.” Namjoon adds. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

Jimin wraps his arms around his stomach. “You know I’m going to think too much into it, Namjoonie-hyung. I can’t help it.” Namjoon is smiling softly. “I know, Mochi. You’re too kind for the world you’ve found yourself in.” “So is Jungkook.” Jimin notes, eyes following the sound of laughter towards the living area. Jungkook has the biggest smile on his face, calm and without worry and Jimin thinks it's the best Jungkook has ever looked. “I hate this.” Seokjin walks around the breakfast bar to pull Jimin in for a tight hug. “It’ll be alright now Jiminie. Things will only get better for him, we’ll all make sure of that.” “Still doesn’t change the fact bad things did happen to him.” Jimin mumbles, head resting on Seokjin’s chest as he watches Jungkook carefully. “I want to spoil him rotten.” Seokjin hums. “Well, you can.” “The past is in the past, Mochi. You should take solace in the fact that if you were in the past with him, then you could have and would have done something.” Namjoon consoles. “But you weren’t, so now you can make up for everything the kid didn’t have.” Jimin nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out just as slow. “I know.” He steels his face, masking his own emotion if only to be strong for Jungkook. “I’m gonna make sure that boy is happy for the rest of his life. And if that means he’ll be happy fucking Taehyung against the wall every night, then so fucking be it.” Seokjin hisses, stepping away from Jimin like he’s just been burned whilst Namjoon tries to hide his chuckles behind his hand. “And with that disturbing tidbit, I’m going to see what the Lord of the Underworld wants of a lowly human like me.” Seokjin announces, reaching out for his empty plate. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back if you want?” Namjoon stands to his feet, swiftly taking the plate from Seokjin’s hands. “I’ll do them, don’t worry.” There hands brush for just a moment and Jimin is more than 100% sure that there is a blush dusting both their cheeks. Jimin smirks, eyebrow cocked as the two stand there, staring at their connected hands on the plate. “We have a dishwasher you know?” He comments and the two jolt away from each other like they’ve just been electrocuted. Namjoon coughs, placing the plate in the sink. “I know, just something to do.” He mumbles. Seokjin ruffles his bangs out of his face. “I was just being helpful.” He quips before swiftly sauntering off towards Yoongi’s office. Jimin is chuckling silently as he watches Namjoon bring his own plate over from the breakfast bar to place in the sink. His eyes are carefully trained on the task in front of him purposefully avoiding Jimin’s knowing gaze. “Mochi, stop it.” Jimin shrugs leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. “Stop what?” He asks innocently. Namjoon shoots him a look that clearly means to cut the bullshit and Jimin just laughs. “Stop laughing!” Namjoon whisper scolds. “Okay, now that you and Jin-hyung are friendly again, I just have to know. What the hell happened

at my wedding?” Jimin asks and the flush that melts across Namjoon’s face is so red that there’s no way he can hide it. “N-nothing.” He stammers awkwardly. He turns his face from Jimin and flings open the dishwasher, the door clanging noisily too the floor. “What did you break?” Hosoek shouts from the living room. “Nothing!” Namjoon shouts. “Yet.” Taehyung adds and Namjoon runs his hands down his face in exasperation. He never gets this flustered over anything, and by God does Jimin feel mischievous from it. “So, something non PG-13?” Jimin asks coyly. Namjoon looks like a tomato. “No.” “So it was PG-13, but better done in a closet, ey?” “Mochi.” “C’mon, tell me Namjoonie-hyung! Please?” Namjoon sighs. “There’s nothing to tell.” He shrugs, hands reaching out for the first plate. “What happened at the wedding was just, a misunderstanding. We managed to clear things up last night and now we’re friends again and that’s all that matters.” Jimin sighs; he doesn't buy it for one second. Taehyung is right, there is something between his hyungs but Jimin isn’t the type to push them. He’s patient and considerate and when the two of them feel like they want to tell the rest of them what’s going on, Jimin will be there to listen. “If you say so.” He agrees and Namjoon looks so relived that Jimin is going to drop the whole matter easily. “I actually have a favour to ask of you.” Namjoon places the plate he’s holding in the dishwasher and turns his full attention on Jimin. “Sure Mochi, what can I do?” “Jungkook’s things.” Jimin starts; swallowing down a small lump of fear at the thought of the dingy apartment he had been stuck in the night before. “I don’t know how much he has, and I don’t want him to go back there and…” Namjoon places a reassuring hand on Jimin’s shoulder, small understanding smile pulled at his lips. Jimin likes Namjoon’s smile, it’s always clear-cut and to the point, showing off an array of emotions and always framed by dimples. “Say no more, I’ll leave in ten.” Jimin lets out a long sigh, muscles he didn’t even know he had been tensing relaxing as he does. “Thanks, hyung.” Namjoon just offers him a wink before turning back to filing the plates in the dishwasher. There’s a peaceful atmosphere that falls across the apartment after breakfast. The two youngest are sprawled out across the biggest couch, eyes intently focused on the movie and hands intertwined. Hoseok is curled up in Yoongi’s favorite chair, eyes darting between the TV and his phone, mouth pulled into a hard line whilst looking at the device in his hand. Clearly his husband is already at work setting things in motion that Jimin has yet to be caught up on.

There’s a heavy feeling in his gut that makes his stomach recoil at the thought of what’s to come. In all their years together, Jimin has never willingly placed himself into Yoongi’s world. He’s been caught up in it multiple times, thrown through whirlwinds of situations that he has no control over and yet has still come out stronger. This, this is different. This is Jimin voluntarily choosing to involve himself in his husband’s darker life and he’s not sure whether he will be able to come out of this stronger. He doesn’t want more blood on his hands than he already has; watching people being killed because of him already sends enough torment through his brain. He’s scared, terrified even. But he knows that this is something that he wants to do. He trusts Yoongi impeccably, believes that his husband will do nothing but shield Jimin from things he knows he can’t handle and he trusts that his husband will hold him together and keep him from breaking. Jimin doesn’t know what he’s about to involve himself in, but there’s no way he’s going to stop himself from doing it. Because right now, he’ll do anything to see Jungkook smile.

____________ The apartment block looks even more run down in the daytime. It’s two stories of five apartments along each row and it’s wedged between two larger, newer and pristine looking apartment blocks. The railings and steps are rusted, the floor greyed so badly from the elements that Jimin’s not sure what material is used for it and the paint is so pealed and faded there’s no way to tell what colour it was to begin with. The whole thing looks forgotten, practically invisible to those passing by and Jimin can understand why it’s cause for a good gangster base. Jimin is nervous, far nervous than he’s ever been in his life. The street it’s situated on is busy and boisterous with a heavy stream of traffic from both cars and pedestrians. Yet as they stand on the edge of the apartment’s perimeter, there’s an eerie silence that rings ominously in Jimin’s ears. He feels out of place and there’s a nervous twisting in his gut that leads him to think that the universe knows this too and he doesn’t want to delve into what that means. He’s wedged between Namjoon and Yoongi, the two dressed head to toe in pristine black suits without a lint or hair marrying them, and matching black facemasks. Yoongi’s shirt is red, a fitting choice Jimin thinks considering what they’re about to do, his tie is skinny and black and tied impeccably only because Jimin was the one to do it this morning. Whereas Namjoon’s shirt is white, tieless and has three buttons opened at the collar. Every now and then a cool breeze blows through them and it allows Jimin to see their guns glinting in the spring sun. They’re hidden away securely in holsters that can only be seen if their jackets are removed, but that does little in calming Jimin’s nerves. Because he knows that they’re there and he knows they’ll probably be used today. Jimin didn’t even think to wear black, and now he feels like he’s sat with the popular kids looking like a saw thumb. The weather forecast said it was going to be pretty warm out, with highs of 17 degrees C and he excitedly pulled on a pair of skinny, distressed, pale wash jeans and a light yellow sweatshirt cut low to reveal his collar bones. Jimin can see their reflection in one of the ground apartment’s windows and because of Jimin’s bright fashion choice; the three of them look like a bee. He’s really not cut out for this.

Namjoon hands Jimin a facemask of his own, eyes crinkling in what Jimin assumes is a kind smile under his mask. Jimin takes it with shaking hands, gulps down through his dry mouth and fixes the mask securely to his face. Yoongi is snapping his black gloves onto his hands, eyes narrowed down at the 4th apartment from the left on the ground floor. “Let’s make this quick.” He announces, a hard edge to his voice that sends shivers through Jimin’s spine. “It shouldn’t take too long, they’re already scared shitless.” Namjoon scoffs and his lighthearted tone makes Jimin feel sick. “Get the information and leave, I’ll handle the rest.” Yoongi nods at the mutual understanding of the plan. “Make them suffer.” Yoongi adds darkly and Jimin flinches from the harsh sound. “Of course.” Namjoon agrees before the two of them lead the way to the apartment. Jimin hurries along behind them, heart hammering wildly in his chest and he fidgets with the hem of his sweatshirt just to keep his hands from shaking so much. Namjoon slams the door of the apartment open for them and Jimin’s eyes immediately fall to the two men bound and gagged to chairs in the middle of the room. Their eyes look blood shot, there’s blood trickling down their faces and they’re muffled voices are screaming pleas of forgiveness that Jimin knows he’ll be hearing in his dreams. Yoongi steps in first, followed closely by Jimin who’s trying really hard not to burry his face in Yoongi’s chest, and lastly flanked by Namjoon. The door to the apartment slams shut behind them and the ‘click’ of the lock silences the men before them and hangs heavily in the room. There are tear streaks down their faces, their bonds tied so tightly is cutting into the skin on their wrists and ankles and there’s more blood than Jimin was anticipating. Especially considering nothing’s really happened yet. God, Jimin feels dizzy. Namjoon moves to stand closer to him, hand gently and reassuringly placed on Jimin’s shoulder. “Remember, we found you in a pretty similar situation to this.” He explains softly. Jimin gulps down a wave of nausea, nodding his agreement. Jimin doesn’t like the idea of people playing god, but he at least tries to bring some comfort to himself knowing that these men are not good people. He has to be strong, for Jungkook, because it’s the least the boy deserves. “Kang, Choi.” Yoongi greets icily and the two flinch in their restraints. “We’re gonna play a game of 20 questions and then Namjoon’s going to slice your ring fingers from your hands with a blunt knife. Sound reasonable?” There’s an audible whimper in the room that doesn’t sound muffled from a gag and it takes Jimin a while to realise that it’s from him. “Yoongi.” Namjoon warns, hand tightening its hold on Jimin’s shoulder. Yoongi’s eyes snap to Jimin a little startled, like he had forgotten Jimin was even in the room with him. Yoongi’s eyes soften as soon as he see’s his husband and stretches out his hand for him. “Come here.” He orders, but his voice is gentle and Jimin goes willingly. Yoongi pulls Jimin into his side with one arm, hand scratching gently at the base of Jimin’s neck as he buries his face in Yoongi’s chest. The touch grounds him, steadies his dizziness and Jimin finds it

easier to breath. He clings to Yoongi’s shirt so tightly he’s certain it could rip and scrunches his eyes shut. “Take off their gags.” Yoongi orders. Jimin doesn’t need to see it happen to know when the men’s mouths are freed, because suddenly the room is filled with tears and wails, shuddering breaths and tormented begs and pleas of forgiveness. Yoongi clicks his gloved fingers, the leather sapping viscously around the room. It’s followed with two stinging slaps, that Jimin is sure are delivered to each of the men’s cheeks, and Jimin flinches, hiding himself closer to Yoongi’s chest. “You speak only when I ask you a question.” Yoongi explains with a mocking scoff. “Have you never played 20 questions?” Silence, then two more slaps. “That was a question you were supposed to answer, boys.” Namjoon explains. Jimin can feel his nausea spiraling around in his gut; it’s like lions toying with their prey before they eat it. “Y-yes, yes.” One of them grunts but Jimin is too terrified to openi his eyes and see who said it. Another slap. “Yes, what?” Yoongi toys and Jimin can hear the smug smirk in his voice. “Yes we know how to play!” One exclaims, voice a little higher in pitch and Jimin thinks it could be Kang. “And yes we’ll only answer questions you ask.” “Good.” Yoongi praises. But Jimin can hear the sound of a fist colliding with a face, and the wind being knocked out of one of their captives. Which makes him think their answer wasn't ‘good’ after all. “I need names.” Yoongi demands. “We can give you names.” Smack. “Was that a question?” Namjoon asks. Smack. “No, fuck, sorry.” “The boy’s father, I need his name.” Yoongi demands. “We can do you one better, we can give you his address.” One explains, a hint of hope in his voice that feels like a dagger to Jimin’s chest. There’s no hope for them, even Jimin knows that. “Interesting.” Yoongi ponders. “Tell me.” “He lives in Hongdae, the address is in my phone.”

There’s another smack followed by a whimper that Jimin knows immediately this time is from him. Yoongi’s arm cradles him closer, sturdy around Jimin’s shivering frame. “And the names of everyone you sold out of my club.” Yoongi adds. “W-we never got their names.” Jimin eyes finally snap over to the men in pure horror, he’s feeling so sick and so disgusted that it’s making him lightheaded. “What?” Jimin asks, but no one responds to him. Namjoon swipes the back of his hand across Kang’s face, fingernails slicing across the red cheek and drawing blood. “Fucking answer him, don’t be rude.” He demands. “We never asked their names.” Choi responds. There’s a large gash on his bottom lip, there are heavy blue and purple bruises dotted over his face and one of his eyes is swollen closed. Jimin gasps at the words, dread filling his brain. “Why?” Choi looks at Yoongi as if asking for permission to answer before looking back at Jimin. “Their names weren’t important so long as they were hot.” Jimin can feel bile rising in his throat and his knees are wobbling uncontrollably. Yoongi’s grip around him tightens, his other arm finally reaching round Jimin to keep him from crumpling like paper. “They’re human beings, not merchandise.” Jimin’s voice is so weak and so frail. “What does it matter when money’s involved?” Kang spits. “They’ll be too drugged up to realise what’s happening to them anyway.” Jimin’s going to be sick. He pushes his way out of Yoongi’s hold; hand clamped over his mouth and on shaky legs throws himself out of the apartment. The smoggy spring air of Seoul feels like a breath of fresh mountain air against the stuffy confines of the apartment. The cool breeze hits Jimin forcefully rather then gently, carrying the strong scent of rust and petrol and suddenly there’s no way for him to stamp down his nausea. He collapses to his knees, doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach onto the disgusting grey flooring. There are tears clinging at his eyes, his entire body is shaking like a leaf and he’s whimpering through stuttered gasps of air. It’s not long before there’s a hand rubbing soothingly on his back and another pushing his dark sweaty bangs away from his forehead. “It’s alright Sunshine, it’s going to alright.” Yoongi soothes, patiently waiting for Jimin to finish throwing up what little had been in his stomach. Eventually Jimin stops, tears streaming down his face and the twisting feeling of nausea lacing through his stomach lessens. He feels so exhausted, so mentally and physically exhausted and he’s barely been awake longer then a few hours. He doesn't know how Yoongi can do this, and keep doing it over and over again as if it’s nothing. Yoongi is wiping at his mouth with a tissue, pulling Jimin against his chest and away from the vomit on the floor. Jimin can’t stop whimpering, tears streaming down his face and staining Yoongi’s red shirt.

“Talk to me.” Yoongi begs. Jimin hiccups, holds his breath, counts to 20, lets it out slow and scrunches his eyes shut. “They’re innocent.” He whispers in a gravely voice, throat cut up from throwing up. “They are.” Yoongi agrees. “And I plan to find every single one of them and bring them home.” Jimin’s arms are weak, but he forces them to wrap around Yoongi’s stomach. “Why would they do that? I can’t – I don’t – “ Jimin sobs, face twisting into Yoongi’s shirt as more tears fall unbidden form his eyes. Yoongi hushes him. “There’s nothing you could have done.” Jimin scoffs. “I’m so sick and tired of hearing that.” Yoongi chuckles lightly. “But it's true.” “I need to know what I can do, not what I can’t do.” Jimin pleads. “I need to be able to do something, Yoongi. Else I think it might drive me insane.” Yoongi kisses the top of his head. “You’re already doing everything you can do.” Jimin shakes his head, mushing tears into Yoongi’s shirt. “It’s not enough.” His voice catches on a sob. “It’s not enough.” He repeats before he’s uncontrollably sobbing into Yoongi’s shirt. His hands cling to his husband like a lifeline, and Yoongi holds him tighter. Hushing him gently and letting the younger get out all of his pain.

____________

Jimin feels disgusting and he really wants to change. He wants to burn away the events of the day in a scolding hot shower and then tear these clothes to shreds like one would a cursed object. It’s a shame, because he really likes this sweatshirt, it was a Christmas present from Yoongi back when they first started dating and he’s sad to part with it. But he wont be able to look at it in the same way anymore. At least he was able to brush his teeth; Yoongi had informed the driver to stop by a convenience store to pick up a toothbrush before collecting them. Now his breath smells minty fresh and he can no longer taste the burning acid residue of vomit in the back of his throat. The suburb of Hongdae that they’re in is pretty quiet. Jimin’s certain that if he were standing out on the street he’d be able to hear more of the noise and hustle that usually came from Hongdae. But as he’s locked up in Yoongi’s town car, he can hear nothing but the soothing piano music the driver is playing in the front. It’s been 12 minuets since Yoongi left him alone in the car. 11 minuets since Yoongi knocked on the front door of the house and 9 minuets since he went inside. Not that Jimin is counting or anything, the clock on the dash is pretty big and is constantly in Jimin’s line of sight. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself. That’s what’s keeping him from going insane, completely unknowing of what’s going on inside that house, as he waits for Yoongi to come back.

Jimin wonders if Namjoon has killed Choi and Kang yet. But the thought sits uncomfortably on his empty stomach – threatening more vomiting that he just can’t handle. So instead he squashes the thought down and goes back to staring outside the window. Jungkook’s childhood home is old, so old it’s mainly made out of wood. An actual house in Seoul is expensive, even rundown looking ones like this, so it’s safe to assume the place has been passed down through family lineages. There’s no garden, weeds sprouting from the grey concrete as close to greenery and nature the house has. The houses surrounding it look far better kept, well loved and well lived in. They’re painted in fresh coats of paint, with boxes of flowers lining the doors and windows and there are children’s toy littered across their lawns. He sighs, head hitting the headrest as he glares at the ceiling. It’s been 10 minuets since Yoongi’s gone inside now and Jimin’s wishing he could have gone in too. The anticipation is making him incredible anxious, restless with nervous energy and he starts tapping his foot impatiently against the floor just for something to do. But he knows why Yoongi told him to wait in the car. Mr Jeon is a risk that Yoongi doesn’t want to bet on, not when he hasn’t got Namjoon here as back up. He pulls out his phone, he’s only received 1 message in the 4 hours that he’s been out the house and he’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Hoseok, Taehyung and Seokjin had taken Jungkook to an amusement park; something the youngest had never been too before and was practically forced to go to at Taehyung’s insistence. Not that Jungkook really cares, not when he’s going to be spending the whole day having fun. He’d complained for all of 5 minuets at being told he wasn’t going to school this week. But the complaints died on his tongue when Taehyung showed him pictures of Everland and his eyes glistened in excitement. The only message he’d received was a photo of the 4 of them in front of the park, the biggest smile plastered across Jungkook’s face that gave Jimin an overwhelming sense of peace. The boy’s happiness is worth the dread he’s feeling in his stomach. The opening of the car door makes Jimin jump, eyes snapping to the sight of his husband slipping onto the back seat next to Jimin. “I got it.” He confirms as he settles in his seat. He clicks his seatbelt into place silently before instructing the driver to take them to the station. “The station?” Jimin asks, eyes automatically falling to Yoongi’s hands. They’re still gloved and Jimin feels a wave of relief wash through him. Yoongi nods, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “He was so fucking drunk he kept forgetting I was there.” He explains exasperatedly. “But he managed to sign the papers and tell me that his mother lives in Busan.” “Busan?” Jimin squeaks. “Do you even know where?” Yoongi sighs, sagging into the leather interior. “By the time we get there, I will. But she’s changed her name.” Jimin nods, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. “Should we maybe go tomorrow? Will there be enough time to get there today?” “I’d rather get this sorted now. Seokjin said it might take a little while for the paper’s to go through, even if he does flag them as priority.” Yoongi explains. “The quicker the kid cuts all ties to this shit

hole of a life he’s found himself in, the better.” There’s a tense stiffness in Yoongi’s shoulders and a tight rigidness in his jaw that Jimin knows are tell-tail signs that his husband has a headache brewing. Jimin unbuckles his seat belt and deftly slips into Yoongi’s lap, hands running soothingly over his shoulders. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Jimin praises and Yoongi just scoffs. “I mean it. I’m so proud of you for doing all this without even questioning it. For keeping a level head when I can tell you want to explode. I’m so grateful that you’re being my rock.” Jimin kisses Yoongi’s temples, both of them, and then chastely on his lips. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Yoongi’s hands find purchase on Jimin’s hips. “I maybe a ruthless mob boss, but I know injustice when I see it. And I’m more than capable of acting out against it.” Jimin hums. “I know.” He agrees, hands trailing down Yoongi’s arms until they reach his gloved hands. “You didn’t kill him?” He whispers. “It’s not up to me to kill him.” Yoongi explains. Jimin goes about gently pulling each finger out the glove. “Why? You had Choi and Kang killed.” “That’s because they’re my men and I’m responsible for them.” Yoongi explains, hands limp in Jimin’s hold and head lolling against the headrest. “They fucked up and I dealt with them accordingly. I’m not responsible for Jeon Chulsoo.” “Oh?” Jimin asks, setting the gloves on the seat and massaging Yoongi’s hands. “Then who is?” “As a family, that would be Jungkook.” Yoongi explains and Jimin gulps down a lump that’s forming in his throat. “As the man that made Jungkook’s life hell, it’s only fair that the kid is the one to decide what is to be done with him. It’s only right the boy be offered justice against his injustice.” “Considerate.” Jimin mumbles. Yoongi sighs, completely relaxed under Jimin’s ministrations. “But I wont ask talk to him about it.” Jimin’s hands still in their movements across Yoongi’s hand. “You wont?” Yoongi wiggles his fingers, urging for Jimin’s attention again. “No. I wont mention a word of that man, unless Jungkook asks about him.” Jimin picks up starts up his massage again, thumbs gently rubbing into his husband’s palms. “Why’s that?” “Because the kid deserves to be happy.” Yoongi sighs, eyes fluttering shut. “And that man is not happiness.” Jimin’s chest is filled with so much love and adoration for this man before him that he thinks it could explode. It’s always such a rollercoaster of emotions loving Yoongi. One minute Jimin’s up, the next he’s down and he’s surprised he’s not suffering from vertigo. Jimin leans foreword and leaves a lingering kiss to Yoongi’s pink lips, sighing out in pure love before resting his forehead against his husbands. “What was that for?” Yoongi mumbles sleepily, body unmoving against the chair, hands loosing their grip on Jimin’s hips.

Jimin hums. “I just love you, that’s all.”

___________ “Can I help you?” The woman asks and there’s a pinch of confusion and worry between her brows. Not that Jimin can blame her; it’s 8pm on a Monday night – far too late for visitors. Yoongi nods. “I hope so, are you Lee Hyori?” The woman opens the door just a little wider and Jimin can see the hallway is brightly lit with floral wallpaper decorating the walls. He can smell homemade cooking and feel a welcoming warmth against the cool spring evening and it makes Jimin feel irritated. “Yes, I am.” She explains with a polite smile. “Great, we’re here on behalf of Jeon Jungkook.” Yoongi explains and upon hearing her son’s name, Lee Hyori’s face pales and her fingers clinging tighter onto the door. Yoongi snorts at her expression, clearly just as disgusted as Jimin. “Ahh good, you remember him.” “O-of course I do.” She snaps. “Really? Because Jungkook’s gone through years of thinking that you don’t.” Jimin snaps back arms folded about his chest, he’s really not here to play games. Out of the three visits that they had planned out today, this was the one that had been rubbing Jimin up the wrong way ever since Jungkook told him about his mother leaving. The woman bristles, pulling the door in front of her as if for protection. Though she’s smaller than Jungkook and more petite, Jimin thinks that the boy is pretty much the spitting image of his mother. From their large dark doe like eyes, to their cute bunny teeth there are indeed more similarities than differences. Her hair is cropped short and dyed a light brown. There are large expensive looking earrings adorning her ears, shimmering in pearl that matches the pearls around her neck. She dressed in business attire, a pencil skirt and white shirt with a pale blue apron tied around her waist. She clearly has money, even if the apartment she resides in isn’t all that big and Jimin finds himself growing more of a hatred towards her. “What do you want?” She demands. The hand she doesn’t have curled around the door is resting on her hip, body language screaming offensive and ready to fight. Jimin clicks his tongue. “Lot’s of things Lee-ssi. But how about we start with letting us in?” For a split second it looks as though she’s about to tell them to fuck off, but Yoongi beats her to a response. “I would listen to him, we wouldn’t want to cause a scene out here now, would we?” There’s an icy chill in his voice that makes Jimin shiver along with the woman. His husband’s cold voice does the trick and the woman begrudgingly opens the door fully for the two of them to step inside. Ms Lee leads them towards the living room, hands wringing nervously in front of her as she goes. Jimin can smell kimchi and meat in the air, mixed with something floral that reminds Jimin of potpourri. There are very little pictures hanging on the walls, but in the ones that are up Jimin can see the same face over and over again, smiling blissfully for the world to see. He looks much like an older Jungkook, slightly heavier and with a rounder face, but again the bunny teeth and large eyes

are there. “Your other son?” Jimin asks nodding to one of the frames. The woman snaps her eyes to where Jimin is gesturing. “My eldest, yes.” Yoongi hums. “You abandon him like you abandoned Jungkook?” The woman spins on her heels with an angry look plastered across her face. “Listen here, you have no right to say that to me! You don’t know what happened, you can’t judge me.” They’re literally five paces from the living room, Jimin can see a low cream table in the middle and a bowl of peaches placed on top of it. Large plush looking red seat cushions are littered around the floor and a small TV playing the evening news is quietly running near the balcony doors. The place looks homely and welcoming but nothing about this place is inviting to Jimin. It feels colder than the bleak run down house that Jungkook spent his childhood in. “Then tell us what happened.” Jimin demands. “Because I’m currently in the process of trying to nurse a broken kid and I can’t begin to even fathom how he’s come to be this way.” He’s angry, so incredibly angry and he’s thankful that Yoongi’s hand is on his lower back. His touch is keeping him from lurching foreword and smacking the sense into the woman that she’s so clearly lacking. The woman recoils, left hand nervously fiddling with the pearls around her neck. “What do you mean broken? Is he hurt?” “More than a doctor can fix.” Jimin confirms through an acidic voice. Jimin can see conflicting emotions flashing across her face as she battles with her conscience. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse than I already do.” “So you regret leaving him?” Jimin asks. “Yes.” The woman replies and it’s quick a little too quick. So quick that Jimin knows instantly that it’s a lie. Jimin shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” “You have no right to come into my home and…” She begins. Her voice is pitched ridiculously high, probably in hopes one of her neighbors will hear her and call the police. Jimin kind of hopes that they will so this dreaded woman can see Yoongi in all his power and fully appreciate whom she’s fucking with. Silently, Yoongi pulls the papers from his jacket pocket and thrusts them towards Ms Lee. “If you would be so kind as to sign these, we’ll be on our way and out of your life for good.” The woman snatches the papers, and scans her eyes over them quickly. It takes her at least three attempts at reading through them before the contents finally settle in her brain. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops agape in a way that reminds Jimin so much of Jungkook it makes his heart ache. “Y-you want me to sign these?” She asks uncertain. “If you would.” Yoongi confirms and the woman looks torn. Yoongi scoffs, running his free hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why you look so upset about this. Jungkook hasn’t been your child from the moment you walked out on him. This just makes things official.”

There are tears gleaming in her eyes, collecting in the corners and threatening to fall down her perfectly painted cheeks. But Jimin feels neither remorse, nor pity for the woman. He feels nothing but disgust, her tears no more than insults to the 19 years worth of misery Jungkook has been through. She sniffles, dabbing the tears in her eyes away with the pads of her pointer fingers. “Do you have a pen?” She asks once she’s composed. Yoongi hands her one he produces from his jacket pocket and the woman leans the papers against the wall to sign them. She pauses, re-reading over the document, hand poised at the line in which she needs to sign and lets a shaky breath past her lips. But ultimately it takes the woman only 3 minuets to sign away her son. “Thank you for your time.” Yoongi replies, pocketing the papers once the woman is done with them. Her arms are wrapped securely around her waist, eyes lowered at the floor and Jimin can tell she must be feeling just as disgusted with herself as Jimin is towards her. “Can I ask you something?” Jimin begins, the need to know how someone could willingly abandon their child outweighing his manners. “Why only take your eldest son? Wouldn’t it have been easier to run away on your own?” She barely moves just standing there, letting the words wash over her like waves on a beach. “Because my eldest child has a different father.” She explains in a small voice but the words ring loudly and angrily in Jimin’s ears. “And you didn’t want any more ties to your husband?” Jimin clarifies. It takes a whole 2 minuets before the woman responds, but when she does Jimin sees red. “Yes.” Smack. The woman doesn’t even flinch against Jimin’s hand, like she was expecting the slap and it makes Jimin feel all the more satisfied. At least she knows just how disgusting she really is. “I hope your regret eats away at you for the rest of your miserable life.” Jimin spits before he’s storming his way back through the apartment. Yoongi is hot on his heels, keeping a comfortingly close distance but still giving Jimin the space he needs. The cold evening air hits him square in the face as soon as the front door is opened and Jimin finds his legs moving before he has a chance to stop himself. “Sunshine!” Yoongi shouts behind him, his voice mixing with the wind whipping past Jimin’s ears as he runs. His legs slam hard into the floor, breath puffing out in streams as his adrenalin fuels his body and pushes him foreword. His chest is aching, his throat is stinging, his face feels numb and his feet are throbbing by the time he finally realises he needs to stop. He’s pulling in large gulpfuls of air, each one stinging his overworked lungs as he slows to a stop. There’s nothing around him save for a small park and a large grassy area, there aren’t even any street lamps illuminating the area. Jimin shucks in a deep breath and screams. He screams in frustration, screams in anger, in annoyance, in pain and in sadness. He turns his head to the heavens and screams out every pent up emotion that’s accumulated within himself over the last couple of days.

“Sunshine.” Yoongi sooths, placing his hands on either side of Jimin’s face and ultimately stopping his scream short. “Look at me, look at me and breath.” He orders, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the apples of his red cheeks. Jimin’s breath is labored and heavy, but he tries to take as many deep and even breaths as possible. It takes a little while before Jimin’s heart settles at an even pace, his lungs are no longer screaming and his body isn’t so riddled with anger. “I’m okay.” He promises. His hands reach up to hold the back’s of Yoongi’s, pressing them closer into his face. “I’m okay.” “I thought I was loosing you to a panic attack for a minute there.” Yoongi confesses his voice laced with relief. Jimin shuts his eyes focusing on nothing else but his husband’s soothing, steadying touch. “This is just a little too close to home now.” He explains and Yoongi hums in understanding. Because of course he does, Yoongi knows Jimin better than Jimin knows himself sometimes. “I don’t think Jisu would ever of had the heart to leave you, Sunshine.” Yoongi comforts. “You had her wiped before you were even born.” Jimin chuckles and finally opens his eyes to look at his husband. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you talk to her?” Jimin nods. “I think that’s a good idea.” He agrees, slipping his hands away from Yoongi’s touch in order to search for his phone in his pocket. Yoongi holds out his hand for Jimin to take as he waits for his mother to answer and Jimin doesn’t hesitate to take it. As the two begin a slow walk back to their hire car, Jimin finally notices how clear a night it is. He can see the stars, something he never really gets to see in Seoul because of light pollution and smog. The moon looks huge in the velvety black of the night, and there’s a clear crisp sting in the air that’s still lingering from a harsh winter. Jimin shivers and subconsciously leans closer to his husband’s warmth. “Jiminie, my precious!” His mother singsongs through the phone after the 6th ring. “How are you doing in the underworld?” Jimin is smiling at her light voice and her happy tone and he feels the last of his anger finally seeping out of his body. “Hey Eomma, I miss you.” “I miss you too, chick.” She chirps and Jimin can hear the clanking sounds of hot tea being made in the background. “Is there a reason you’re calling me this late on a Monday?” “Am I not allowed to call you?” Jimin scoffs. His mother chuckles. “You can call me anytime you like.” She clarifies. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re upset about something.” Jimin is worrying his teeth into his bottom lip. “What makes you think I’m upset?” “Chick, the first thing you said to me was you miss me.” She explains. “It’s also the first thing you said to me your 5th night in Seoul whilst you were worrying about your first day of classes. Now, tell your amazing Eomma what’s up.” Jimin sighs, head turned to the sky. “I just wanted to say thank you.” “I know I have done many amazing things in my life, but you’re going to have to narrow down

which momentous achievement you’re giving me thanks for.” Jisu giggles. God, Jimin misses his mother’s laughter sometimes. It’s so bright and cheerful and it’s the sound of home that Jimin is always so nostalgic for. “Thank you, for choosing to keep me. For not abandoning me.” Jimin explains. There’s a beat of a pause from the other end of the phone. The background noise of tea being made is silenced as his mother lets the words sink in. “Chick, what’s brought this on all of a sudden?” She asks carefully. “Nothing for you to worry about.” Jimin placates quickly. “It’s just, I was thinking about how much I appreciate all you’ve scarified for me. And I don’t think I thank you enough for it.” Jisu hums in understanding. “I see.” She comments off handedly. “But, you know that I was destined to be your Mama, right? It was written in the stars, and painted across the cosmos. I was born to be your Mama, Jiminie. I’ve lived the best life I know because I got to do it raising you.” “I’m so lucky.” Jimin replies, voice chocked with emotion once again and he tightens his grip on Yoongi’s hand to stop himself from crying. He’s cried enough for 6 lifetimes over the last few days as is. “You damn right you are.” She replies and there’s huff in her voice. “Now tell your cold hearted brute of a husband to kiss your sadness away, alright?” Jimin smiles, clutching the phone tighter to his ear as if doing so will make him that much closer to her. If he wanted they could make the short drive to the house, he could throw his arms around his mother and let himself be drowned in her comforting embrace. But there are more important things that need to be done, and Jimin needs to buck himself up and act like a grown up. “I will.” He replies as confidently as he can muster. “Love you, Chick.” “Love you too.” ____________

It’s three days after their little trip to Busan that they finally get a moment alone with Jungkook. Namjoon and Hoseok are out completing business that Yoongi doesn’t need to be present for, Seokjin is busy making sure that their plan goes through smoothly and quickly whilst Taehyung is at the Uni for a couple of hours for night classes. Jungkook is curled up on the couch, a brand new pair of red beats headphones in his ears that Namjoon just had to buy for the kid. However, Jimin really has nothing to complain about towards the special treatment his hyungs give Jungkook. Mainly because he’s the worst out of all of them for spoiling him, constantly taking the boy on shopping trips and plying him with clothes and accessories. Turns out Jungkook had nothing more than a pair of jeans and a white T stashed away in the dingy apartment he used to call home. But all 6 of them agree that the boy deserves nothing, if not to be spoiled. Yoongi is sat next to him on the couch, eyes spying the music choices that Jungkook is scrolling through and offering his own opinions and comments every now and then. Jungkook listens to Yoongi, hanging on his every word like a fan girl does with their favorite idol, and Jimin can’t help

but smile at the sight. Initially, he was worried as to whether the two would get along okay, but clearly there was nothing for him to be concerned about. Because every time Jungkook smiles, Yoongi affectionately ruffles the boy’s chocolate locks and Jungkook blushes with content at the praising touch. It would appear that Jungkook just has a personality that people connect with and like easily, once his harsh and cold exterior is stripped away that is. Because Jungkook still looks as though he’s about to be kicked in the stomach at any moment. His eyes dart nervously around the room and his teeth worry into his lips when he thinks no one is looking. Jimin can see the fear in the kid’s face and can hear it in the steadying breaths he forces himself to take to calm himself down. He’s jittery, probably more than a little concerned about what’s going to happen to him, but more heartbreakingly, he’s wary. Wary that all this kindness is going to equate to something he just can’t afford. Jimin catches his husband’s glance and waves the papers subtly in the air in front of his face. Yoongi nods, shifting so that he’s sitting straight on the couch and turns his body towards Jungkook. “Jungkook-ah, can we talk to you for a minute?” Yoongi begins. And there it is, the look of pure terror flashing across Jungkook’s face that Jimin has seen the boy try his hardest to mask whilst he’s been here. He nods, pulling the headphones out of his ears and placing them, along with his iPod, on the table. Jimin slips to sit next to him on the couch and Jungkook snaps his attention between his hyungs, like a spectator at a tennis match. “Wh-what do you want to talk about?” He asks quietly. “Well, you’ve been staying with us for a while now, and we thought that…” Yoongi begins. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. “You want me to leave?” He asks breathily. Jimin’s hands are quick to grab up Jungkook’s face shaking his head as he does. “No, no. We don’t want you to leave.” Jimin reassures and he can feel the boy relax just a little bit. “It’s quite the opposite in fact.” That has Jungkook’s brows furrowing in bewilderment. “Actually, we were wondering if you wanted to stay with us, permanently.” Jimin explains. “S-stay?” Jungkook asks. Yoongi nods. “We say permanently, but you’ll be an adult within a year, so technically you can do whatever you want after that.” He begins hands reaching out to take the paper that’s resting in Jimin’s lap. “To be honest, if you wanted to live by yourself now, we’d be more than happy to help you find a place and pay for it whilst you attend school. But because you’re a minor, legally you can’t do all that without your parent’s consent.” Jungkook winces and Jimin squeezes his hand. “Remember when we said we’d take care of things?” Jungkook nods. “Well we did, and feel free to scold us for out stepping our boundaries, but we kind of thought it best to limit all interactions with your parents, indefinably.” Jungkook’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What do you mean?” Yoongi lays the paper out on the table and Jungkook eyes it suspiciously. “What’s that?” “Read it.” Jimin offers letting go of the boy’s hands so he can reach for the paper. Jimin watches with baited breath as the boy skims over the paper once, furrows his eyebrows intently, and then scans it over again. He’s feeling nervous, he doesn’t know why, but he really is.

He likes to think it’s good nerves, but it’s still nerves nonetheless and he subtly reaches behind Jungkook to squeeze his husband’s forearm. Yoongi sends him a small reassuring smile before directing his attention back to Jungkook. Jungkook’s eyes are as large as saucers, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he struggles to find the right words to say. But the two of them wait patiently and eventually in a small shaky breath Jungkook asks; “Are these, adoption papers?” “Yup.” Jimin responds with a bright smile. “You want to adopt me?” “We sure do.” “B-but I’m old?” Yoongi scoffs. “What does that matter? We’re kind of a little fond of you kid, and please don’t feel forced into agreeing to this if you don’t feel comfortable, you can say no if you want. We’ll get the papers annulled and we’ll see if Seokjin can’t emancipate you from your parents instead.” “We just thought that, well, you might want to be part of a family rather than try and do things on your own. We felt that, you’ve been alone long enough and we want nothing more than to give you the family support that you deserve.” Jimin explains. Jungkook gasps and his face pales and Jimin starts to panic. His hands wave wildly in front of him and suddenly he’s ten times more nervous than before. “But of course, you can still be part of our family and do things on your own if you want! Like Yoongi said, we can get you emancipated and you can go off and be independent but we’ll still look out for you.” Jimin feels like he’s babbling. “Or you can just follow along with our crazy plan and we’ll set you up somewhere and in a year you’ll be an adult so it wont even matter. We’d totally understand, after all it’s whatever you wan…” “Yes.” Jungkook says and his hands are shaking, grip tight on the papers in front of him. “Yes?” Jimin prods, not really understanding Jungkook’s thought process. Jungkook is sniffling, tears clumping together on his eyelashes. “You want me?” And the utter pain and awe in the kids voice stabs so deeply in Jimin’s chest. The reality of the type of life Jungkook has been living seeps deep into Jimin’s bones and settles there painfully. The kid has spent his whole life believing he’s worthless, that he’s not wanted, that he’s trouble. No one should ever feel like that, and Jimin is intent to make sure Jungkook never feels that way again. Yoongi is smiling a large gummy smile as his hands ruffle through Jungkook’s hair affectionately. “We do.” “We do!” Jimin parrots a little too excitedly for the emotional situation they’re in. He’s already pulling Jungkook into a hug, the boy hiding his sobbing face into Jimin’s white sweater. “Is that a yes for being a Min?” Jungkook nods and Jimin lets out a squeal of excitement. “Congratulations, kid. You’re a Min now.” Yoongi beams, carefully prizing the adoption papers from Jungkook’s hands and slipping them into his pocket. “Can I stay here?” Jungkook asks so quietly into Jimin’s sweater that his question almost goes unnoticed.

“Of course!” Jimin replies running a soothing hand through he boy’s locks. “The first guest room is now yours, we can decorate it anyway you like.” “And first thing tomorrow I’m transferring you to a better school.” Yoongi adds. Jungkook snaps his attention to Yoongi, face red and blotchy from tears. “Why?” “Because I think you need to take your 3rd year again, and the school you’re at now is shit.” Yoongi explains with a shrug. Jimin kicks him in the shin. “Excuse me, what are you implying about my teaching skills?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “If he wants to go to a good Uni, he’s gonna need to go to a better school and pull his grades up.” “Funny how quickly you fall into the role of Appa, honey.” Jimin teases and it has Yoongi’s ears tinting red. But the look of a terrifying mafia boss blushing at a snarky comment from Jimin, has Jungkook letting out peals of giggles and the sound melts Jimin’s heart. “You gotta promise us one thing though, Jungkookie.” Jimin begins, letting the boy sit up out of his embrace. Jungkook cocks his head to the side. “What?” “You smile more.” Jimin winks. Jungkook flushes and drops his gaze to his hands before he’s nodding in agreement. Yoongi places a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “You can lean on us now, Jungkook-ah.”

____________ There’s only one last thing that the trio need to go through before Jungkook can officially be a Min. It’s something incredibly important and so ridiculously obvious and yet it’s been completely forgotten by everyone. In fact, it’s not even them that remember, and the horrifying realisation that they’ve forgotten about it hits them on an unsuspecting Friday afternoon. Things are quiet; with Jungkook and Taehyung playing games in the living area, Jimin already getting a head start on dinner prep and Yoongi locked away in his office working – as always. It’s peaceful, made even more so by the large bunny smile that’s been gracing Jungkook’s lips for the past few days. Jimin has never seen the boy look so carefree and it’s such a good look on him. He’s still jittery, finding his calm in little things like plugging his ears with music and shutting himself off to the word, or snuggling up to Taehyung to sleep. But the boy is definitely getting better and happier with each passing day, and Jimin would like to think it’s because they’ve welcomed him into their home and given him a place in their family, but Jimin knows that’s not completely the case. Because Jimin can see Jungkook’s bunny smile reflected in the large boxy smile of his best friend, whose eyes have been following Jungkook through the week with nothing less than adoration and worry swimming in them. Taehyung has always been affectionate and attentive to those he cares about, always understanding in what they need without the person even telling him. Taehyung just seams to know when Jungkook looks as though he’s about to break down, and he carefully tangles their hands and

distracts him with nonsensical stories until he sees the boy laugh. He’ll creep into Jungkook’s room at night, under the pretense that he sleeps better when there’s someone next to him, and will cradle Jungkook through all his nightmares. Taehyung is a wonderful, kind and loving human being that is far too good for this world, but Jimin is sure thankful to call him his best friend. He’s still planning on having a ‘talk’ in regards to his and Jungkook’s relationship. Something of which Yoongi laughs at every time Jimin brings it up, as it sounds like a father wanting to understand what a boy’s intentions are with his precious child. Which, Jimin supposes in a way it is now, but Jungkook is 19 and can make his own decisions. If he wants to be with Taehyung, then Jimin would be nothing if not supportive. Jungkook’s no longer his student anyway; he’s family. “Jimin-hyung, do you need help making dinner?” Jungkook calls from the living area, game paused whilst Taehyung excuses himself in the bathroom. Jimin smiles, “That’s alright, Jungkookie, you guys look like you’re pretty wrapped up in your game.” Jungkook jumps to his feet, baggy white T fluttering as he does, Jimin’s a little bitter that out of all the nice clothing he’s bought for the kid, white T’s are his favorite item. Jungkook practically skips his way into the kitchen. “We can play anytime, I don’t mind helping.” He offers, leaning across the breakfast bar to see what Jimin is doing. Jimin really can’t deny the kid anything, and with an eye-smiling grin he says; “Alright, why don’t you finish chopping the veg for me so I can start broiling the meat?” Jungkook’s large eyes practically glitter at the prospect of being helpful. He nods eagerly as he shuffles around the breakfast bar to take Jimin’s place chopping spring onions. Jimin takes a moment to just stare happily at him before ruffling his hair and sliding over to the stove. However, Jimin doesn’t even get the pan heated enough before the loud banging of the door to Yoongi’s office opening, scares him silly. “Fuck!” Jimin exclaims, practically jumping ten feet into the air. A sight of which has Jungkook giggling behind his hands. He spins on his heels, facing the direction of the office, tapping his foot irritatedly for his husband to show his face round the corner and explain the stupidly loud noise, but he never comes. With a heavy sigh, he clicks the stove off and makes his way over to the office, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder as he passes. He can see the light beaming out of the open office from the end of the hallway, and there’s a rather shell-shocked looking Yoongi standing in the hallway. Jimin’s body moves just a little bit faster, panic flooding his system as he takes in the ghostly pale look on Yoongi’s face. “Yoongi?” Jimin asks, hands reaching out to touch before he even gets to the man. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” He’s standing as close to Yoongi as he can, fingers gently stroking along his cheeks and pushing his hair away from his face. Yoongi gulps, eyes once trained on the floor suddenly locking with Jimin’s worried stare. “I might have just done something incredibly stupid, or incredibly cunning and I’m not sure which.” Jimin’s panic is now mixing with confusion and it’s driving him mad. “What do you mean? You need to be more specific.” “My mother called.” Yoongi explains, voice as grave as if he were talking about his own execution.

Jimin’s hands drop form the face of his over dramatic husband, tongue running across his teeth in irritation. “That’s not really cause for slamming doors and scaring me half to death.” “No, no it is.” Yoongi urges. Jimin folds his arms across his chest. “Alright, enlighten me as to how?” Yoongi runs his hands down his face. “I’m not really sure where to start, I’m still processing this.” “Hyung? Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, worriedly popping his head round the corner of the hallway. Jimin sends him a warm smile. “Everything’s fine, Yoongi’s just being a little dramatic that's all.” Jungkook slips into the hallway, fingers fiddling with the piercings in his left ear and head cocked to the side. “Dramatic how?” “His mother called.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “And?” Jungkook prods once more. Jimin sighs. “My point exactly.” “She was bitching about getting us to go down to Daegu this weekend, and with everything that’s been going on I tried to politely explain to her that we were busy.” Yoongi begins, ignoring the jibes from Jimin and Jungkook. “But she wouldn’t listen.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at Jungkook. “Spoiler alert, she never does.” “So me being the stubborn short tempered ass that I am…” Yoongi starts again. “Your words, not ours.” Taehyung chimes in on a snicker as he makes his way out the bathroom. He saunters up to the little gathering in the hallway and drapes himself over Jungkook’s shoulders. Jungkook grins at the affection and rests his head against Taehyung’s. Yoongi glares at Taehyung briefly, before turning his worried look back on Jimin. “I told them that we couldn’t possibly travel down to Daegu so soon after we’ve adopted a kid.” The words sink into Jimin slowly, settling in the back of his brain foggily and he has to play them over a few times before everything clicks. “Shit.” Jimin whispers and Yoongi nods slowly, thankful that Jimin’s finally sharing in his concern. Jungkook shrugs casually from the side. “I’m not really a kid though.” “We know that.” Yoongi elaborates. “But my mother doesn’t know that.” “Fuck, shit, fuck.” Jimin spits, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve just handed her the one thing that she’s wanted from us for months, and she’s going to gut us like pigs when she finds out we’ve deceived her.” “Sh-she won’t really gut you like pigs, will she?” Jungkook asks, sounding a mix between frightened and concerned. Taehyung laughs. “She won’t be that extreme, but the woman’s anger and grudges run darker than that of the devil himself.” Jungkook looks like he’s going to be sick.

“We didn’t even tell her what we were doing, we just did it.” Jimin whispers. “She’s going to be more than pissed.” Yoongi takes a deep stuttering breath. “I know.” He agrees. “But I can’t help but be a little excited to see my mother’s excitement shatter.” Jimin knocks him on the arm. “Don’t be an ass, she’s your mother.” “But the look on her face when she finds out she’s getting a 19 year old grandson instead of a new born grandson will be priceless.” Yoongi cackles. “If there’s nothing I love more, it’s to see my mother’s plans fall through.” Jimin hits him again. “Well I don't!” He exclaims. “I quite like there being peace within the Min family thank you. I can’t handle all the drama.” “Drama?” Jungkook asks. Taehyung runs his fingers under Jungkook’s jaw affectionately. “As an outsider like me, you’ll find it funny, don’t worry.” “To be honest, I find it funny too.” Yoongi adds with a reassuring wink thrown Jungkook’s way. “Shut the fuck up Min Yoongi, this is serious.” Jimin scolds. Yoongi shrugs all worry and shock evaporated from his system now that he’s seeing the funnier side to all this. Jimin isn’t even sure how he can find a funnier side to this really. “Seriously funny.” He jests. Jimin is so ready to chew his husband out, but the shrill ringing of his phone silences his anger on his tongue. He pulls the thing out his pocket and his face pales at the sigh of the caller ID. All three of them are staring at the phone in Jimin’s hands, waiting on Jimin to answer it and there’s a shit-eating grin on both Taehyung and his husband’s faces. He shoots Yoongi a murderous glare whilst bringing the phone to his ear. “Eomma?” He greets. “I'M A GRANDMOTHER, AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO TELL ME ABOUT IT?” His mother screeches so loudly down the phone that he has to hold the thing at a distance from his ear to stop himself going deaf. “Boy, news sure travels fast.” Jimin grumbles, eyes still glaring daggers into his husband. At least the man has the decency to look mildly guilty. “PARK JIMIN! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE? BUT YOU NEED TO CATCH YOUR MOTHER UP, IMMEDIATELY! I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE A GRANDMOTHER!” She shrieks once more. Jimin is holding the phone so far away from his face there’s not even a need for speakerphone. “DON’T GO QUITE ON ME NOW KID!” She screams once more. “Look, Eomma, I dunno what Yerin has told you, but she’s got the wrong idea. Yoongi didn’t tell her everything and…” “What the hell has your worthless husband done now?” Jisu hisses down the phone and Taehyung is laughing into the crook of Jungkook’s neck. “Hello to you to, Jisu.” Yoongi grumbles.

“What did you do, Hades?” She asks, voice mildly quieter so Jimin can finally puts his eccentric mother on loudspeaker without deafening them all. “Nothing much.” Yoongi counters stubbornly. “Famous last words.” Jisu scoffs. Jimin rolls his eyes. “He told his mother, that we adopted a kid, when in fact we adopted a 19 year old student of mine who was having family problems.” Jisu is laughing, her musical giggles echoing down the hallways and back in their ears. “Holy shit. Yerin’s going to kill you.” “Eomma!” Jimin wines. “Don’t worry chick, I’ll be praying for you.” Jisu adds devilishly. “Tell my grandkid that I’m too young to be his grandmother, so he can call me Jisu.” “Technically, Jimin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung are too young to call parents too.” Jungkook answers quietly. He looks a little nervous, like he shouldn’t be voicing his opinions but a quick reassuring squeeze to his shoulder from Taehyung has the boy relaxing. “I like you, kid.” Jisu chimes in. “Sorry you gotta deal with the likes of the Min’s though. You would’ve made an excellent Park.” Jungkook is blushing. “I’m not all that.” “Of course you are!” Jisu snaps imploringly. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, in fact…” Her words are cut short by a high shrill beeping that has all four of them covering their ears. “SHIT! I LEFT THE STOVE ON!” Jisu bellows. “FUCK FUCK FUCK….” And then there’s just the dial tone and silence flittering through the hallway. “Wow, your mother is…interesting.” Jungkook comments. “She’s a pain in the ass.” Yoongi corrects. Jimin’s eyes are so furrowed in a glare that they might just swallow his eyes. “You’re a pain in the ass. Call your mother, explain.” He demands holding out his phone for his husband to take. Yoongi looks sheepish, “See, here’s the thing.” His hand is running over the nape of his neck and his eyes are looking anywhere then at Jimin. The squirming nervous look of his husband has even more dread filling Jimin’s veins. “When is she getting here?” Jimin hisses through his teeth. “Tomorrow morning.” For the first time in his life, Jimin is contemplating murder and he wonders what life will be like as a widow.

Chapter End Notes

Hello wonderful humans~ I hope you're having a great day/night wherever you are in the world ( ᐛ )‫و‬ This is a pretty heavy chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it ( •̀ •́)‫ و‬I don't know what it is but I really enjoy writing about Yoongi's mafia activities?? Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for a Yoongi that's soft on his precious Jiminie. But scary to all hell mafia boss Yoongi? WHAT A WHILD RIDE I HAVE WRITING ABOUT YOU BOY~~ (•̀o•́) I love Jungkook, okay? He's precious and innocent and needs all the cuddles and loving from Tae and I SQUEEE WHEN HE FINALLY STARTED CALLING JIMIN HYUNG Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ Anyway, next chapter has lots of love and fluff and crack aaalllll through it to make up for some pretty heavy chapters I've thrown your way! I'm all about sending you guys on a rollercoaster of emotions (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ BUT ALSO YOU GUYS HAVE BLESSED THIS FIC WITH SO MUCH LOVE AND I'M SO THANKFUL FOR IT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW uwu~ So I have an extra treat coming your way, stay tuned^* As always, come be my friend on the Twitter hmu♥ You'll see a lot of people calling me Mother, and I will proudly adopt you as one of my sprout children if you wanna come say hey~ ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

Wedding Bells are Ringing Chapter Summary

So, what exactly did happen at the wedding you ask?

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

1 Year, 3 Months Ago “Sunshine?” Jimin simply hums in reply from where he’s sat on the floor in front of the coffee table surrounded by a pile of clothes. His eyes are unwaveringly glued to the re-run of Hello Counselor that he’s been watching on the TV over the last half an hour. He’s supposed to be folding the laundry, but his hands have been moving slower and slower with each second of the episode that passes. He doesn’t even know why he’s so engrossed in it, he’s seen it before, he knows what’s going to happen. But he’s been ‘ooing’ and ‘aaing’ along with the spectators on the show like it’s his first time seeing it. Yoongi chuckles from his position on the armchair by the window. “Sunshine?” He tries again, but there’s so much fondness in his voice that it’s doing nothing in the form of really getting Jimin’s attention. Jimin hums again, twisting one of Yoongi’s work shirts around in his hands. He’s not even folding things anymore, he hasn’t spared a glance at the laundry in a good 10 minutes and he’s just wrinkling them in his hands mechanically going through the motions. “Sunshine.” Yoongi tries once more, voice a little sterner in the hopes his boyfriend will hear the sudden change in his voice. He doesn’t though; he doesn’t even grace Yoongi with an answer this time. Because prying Jimin away from a show he’s engrossed in is just as hard as trying to steal the crown jewels from the Tower of London. “Sunshine, give your fiancé some attention.” “Yeah I bought bananas yesterday.” Jimin mumbles, not even sure himself what he’s just said. Yoongi sighs fondly before sliding of the armchair and wriggling himself in the space between Jimin’s back and the coffee table. He’s quick to slip his hands up Jimin’s T-shirt and roam his hands across the smooth planes of Jimin’s chest and stomach. Jimin lets out a little hiss at the feeling of his fiancé’s cold hands on his skin, but other than that his attention is still very much focused on the TV. Yoongi’s lips find themselves at the juncture between Jimin’s neck and shoulder, pressing a feather light kiss into the skin there that makes Jimin shiver. There are Goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin as Yoongi presses his lips continuously into Jimin’s skin. His hair at the back of his neck is standing on end, and yet he’s still wrapped up in the show he’s watching. At least, that’s what he’s leading his needy fiancé to believe anyway.

“Sunshine.” Yoongi grumbles against his skin, deep voice reverberating through Jimin’s whole body. “My Sunshine.” He adds, teeth nipping ever so lightly behind Jimin’s ear – in the spot that’s always oh so sensitive. Jimin lets a harsh full body shiver run through his spine. “What are you doing?” He asks breathily. “I’m trying to watch TV.” Yoongi hums; teeth now nibbling on Jimin’s earlobe. Jimin is trying his hardest not to squirm, not to let Yoongi win this little impromptu game. “Is the TV more interesting than me?” Jimin gulps down the needy whine in the back of his throat as Yoongi’s fingers dance lightly over his nipples. “And you call me the needy one.” Yoongi lets out a small chuckle; breath hot on Jimin’s skin and it brings Goosebumps to the surface. “Well, just ignore me then. Watch your program.” Jimin’s always been the more sensitive of the pair, and usually Jimin doesn’t mind, because he knows Yoongi loves him this way. Pliant and easily wound up under his fiancé’s hands. But not today, today Jimin wants to win for a change; he was really enjoying this episode after all. It doesn’t matter that Yoongi’s hands have now slipped their way past the waistband of his sweats… His breath hitches in his throat and he can hear Yoongi chuckling softly. “Y-Yoongi…” “What?” Yoongi asks nonchalantly, hand palming over the steadily growing bulge in Jimin’s boxers. “You know what.” Jimin complains, wriggling a little at the friction. “Stop it.” “Stop what?” “Yoongi.” “Sunshine.” Jimin huffs, his self-restraint clearly nothing big when it comes to his fiancé, and his hand reaches out for the remote. “You’re insufferable.” Jimin moans clicking off the TV. Yoongi’s arms go a lax around Jimin, hand slipping right out of his sweats and causing Jimin to whine needily at the loss of friction. “Now you know what I live with everyday.” Yoongi teases. Jimin blows out a harsh sigh, bangs fluttering as he does, before he spins in Yoongi’s hold so that he’s straddling his fiancé’s lap. “Alright, you got my attention, what do you want?” Yoongi cocks an eyebrow, hands coming down to hold possessively over Jimin’s hips. “Tetchy.” He titters. Jimin rolls his eyes. “You got me semi-hard whilst I was innocently watching TV and folding the laundry…” “None of it’s folded, babe.” “Take some responsibility.” Jimin wriggles in Yoongi’s lap, crotch rubbing deliciously against his fiancé’s that leaves Jimin gasping. Yoongi’s grip around his hips tightens; stilling the younger’s movements. “Sunshine, there’s only 5 months to the wedding, and nothing has been decided.”

“That’s a lie, we’ve picked out the cake.” Yoongi smirks. “And where are we going to feed people, said cake?” Jimin sighs, deflating in Yoongi’s lap. “Okay, okay.” He flops his head to rest on Yoongi’s shoulder, arms circling his shoulders. He can feel his semi deflating in his pants at the considerably non-sexy topic in which they’re about to discuss. “There’s just so many decisions to make and I don’t really know where to start or what to do…” Yoongi is shushing him, thumbs rubbing gently into the jut of his hips. “That’s why I’m going to make all this decision making a little more bearable.” “How?” Jimin hums, pushing his face further into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. The rich sandalwood smell engulfs his senses and leaves him feeling heady in the best of ways. “For every decision made, I’ll do whatever you want.” Yoongi explains, voice deep and sultry and it sends a shiver up Jimin’s spine. He smirks into Yoongi’s milky skin, “So, you’ll be the one finishing the laundry then?” He teases. Yoongi delivers a quick smack to Jimin’s ass cheek that has the younger yelping in surprise. “I did not get you semi-hard just to fold the laundry, Sunshine.” Jimin chuckles. “Alright, alright.” He agrees, raising his head from Yoongi’s shoulder. “Any other rules?” Yoongi wets his lips with his tongue. “I think things are pretty self-explanatory.” Jimin grins. “Fair enough, first topic of conversation?” “Venue?” Yoongi asks. Jimin pulls a face. “Your mother wants us to get married at the Plaza.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Is she the one getting married?” Jimin chuckles. “I sure hope not. I signed up for guns and violence, not an Oedipus complex.” Yoongi smacks his other ass cheek and Jimin groans, dick twitching in interest. “C’mon, Sunshine, else you’ll be sat here with a semi for the rest of time.” “Home.” Jimin mumbles. “Home?” Yoongi prompts. Jimin nods. “Eomma’s flowers look so pretty in May, plus that house is all I’ve ever really known. I can’t think of anything better.” Yoongi is grinning, gums on full display and it makes Jimin’s heart melt. “Have I told you today that I love you?” Jimin is mimicking his fiancé’s warm smile. “Maybe once or twice.” Yoongi nods, “I’ll call your mother and see if she’s okay with it.” “You know she will be.”

“I know, but it’d be better to give her the heads up rather than her finding Min Yerin devil-turned wedding planner at her door.” Yoongi chuckles. “Now, what do you want?” Jimin hums. “A kiss?” “You got it baby.” Yoongi agrees, already leaning in before he’s even finished speaking. Jimin would gladly spend the rest of his life kissing Yoongi. It always just feels so right, so perfect, as if Jimin has finally found where he belongs after years of searching. The kiss is slow, leisurely; Yoongi’s tongue deftly and gently exploring Jimin’s mouth as if they have all the time in the world. And Jimin supposes in 5 months, they legally will. All too soon Yoongi’s pulling away and Jimin is whining again. He chases after his fiancé’s addictive lips, pout pulling across his own when Yoongi denies him another kiss. “Uh, uh. You gotta pick a colour scheme first.” Jimin groans. “It could be neon orange themed for all I care, kiss me again you tease.” Jimin complains. Yoongi chuckles. “Very classy.” He places a finger to Jimin’s lips to keep him at bay, and Jimin’s pout intensifies. “Red, you look good in red.” He concludes quickly. “Good boy.” Yoongi praises. “You want another kiss?” “Yes.” Jimin pouts and Yoongi leans over to kiss it right off his lips. Jimin sighs into the kiss this time, feeling every muscle and bone relaxing in his body. He wraps his arms tightly round Yoongi’s shoulder’s, weak against his fiancé’s lips. Yoongi nibbles on Jimin’s bottom lip as he pulls away, and Jimin feels his eyes glazed over and dumb smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Best men?” Yoongi asks, interrupting the mood. Jimin sighs. “That’s a catch 22 question, because I can’t just ask one Kim brother and leave the other high and dry.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Like Taehyung would make a reliable best man anyway.” “We can’t all have loyal second in commands that help run an empire and a mafia group at the same time.” Jimin complains. “Just ask both of them.” Yoongi explains. “Taehyung’ll bring all the good emotional support you need and Seokjin will make sure everything runs smoothly.” “Four best men, seriously?” Jimin huffs. “That means four more people standing at the altar with us, four extra suits, four extra speech’s, four extra everything.” Yoongi chuckles. “That’s the thing about our wedding, we can do what we want.” Jimin sighs. “Jin-hyung, Tae Tae, Hobi-hyung and Joonie-hyung it is then.” Jimin concedes. “Want another kiss for your hard work?” Yoongi half teases. Jimin shakes his head, teeth worrying into his bottom lip. “Touch me.” Yoongi chuckles. “You gotta be more specific than that, Sunshine.”

Jimin whines. “Anywhere, j-just touch me.” Yoongi complies, hands smoothing down Jimin’s T-shirt and slipping under the hem of it. Jimin shivers at the touch, sensitive body loving all the attention as Yoongi’s large palms glide over his chest, skin on skin. Yoongi feels a little cool against his overly heated skin and it brings Goosebumps prickling to the surface. His hands finally come to rest against Jimin’s pecks, thumbs lightly and teasingly brushing over Jimin’s nipples. “Who do you wanna invite?” “Besides our families? No one else.” Jimin explains, breath coming out harsh with every light touch to his nipple. “My family’s pretty big, remember?” Yoongi explains. “Might be a tight fit at your mother’s place.” “N-no more than 50 people.” Jimin replies, dick no longer semi hard as it strains painfully in his pants. “I think we can handle that.” Yoongi agrees, thumbs pressing harshly down on Jimin’s pert nubs and Jimin lets a long low moan flood the air. “What next, Sunshine?” “Lower.” Jimin whimpers and he knows Yoongi’s loving every second of Jimin’s torture. Yoongi only moves his hands to the tops of Jimin’s sweats, fingers teasingly snapping at the elastic. Jimin is practically panting, dick in desperate need of attention that he knows he’s not going to get unless he answers Yoongi’s questions quickly. “Food?” Yoongi asks again. “Buffet. Means there’s no assigned seating.” Jimin replies snappily. “Lower.” Yoongi is grinning like the cat that’s caught the canary. “Feeling desperate?” He asks as his fingers agonizingly slowly slip the waistband of Jimin’s sweats and pants down his thick thighs. He leaves them bunched under the curve of Jimin’s ass, before his hands smooth up Jimin’s thighs towards his crotch – just as teasingly slow as before. Jimin lets a hiss pull through his teeth as his dick is freed from it’s confinements, the cool air of the room making him shudder. “Next question.” “Flowers?” Yoongi hums. “Red roses.” “That’s a little cliché for us, Sunshine.” Jimin is tugging at Yoongi’s hands where they rest at the juncture between his crotch and his thighs. Thumbs teasingly edging as close to Jimin’s dick as possible without actually touching him and it’s driving Jimin insane. “They match the colour scheme.” Jimin explains leaning forward to suck a mark at the little bit of skin on display around the collar of Yoongi’s black T. “I’ll have the house filled with them.” Yoongi growls, slapping Jimin’s ass once more to get him to behave. “You gotta tell me what you want, Sunshine.” “T-touch me.” Jimin whines, breath hot and heavy against the blossoming red mark on Yoongi’s

neck. “I am touching you, sweetheart.” Yoongi teases. “Not where I need you to though, you asshole.” Jimin grits, trying his hardest to move his hips to get any kind of friction. But as always, Yoongi’s grip is bruising tight. “What kind of wedding ring do you want?” Yoongi asks. “You didn’t do what I wanted.” Jimin complains, little fists knocking playfully against Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi is chuckling and Jimin feels like he’s about to explode from irritation and desperation. “Like I said, I am touching you Sunshine. Good boy’s say clearly what they want.” Jimin huffs pushing himself to sit up straight in Yoongi’s hold and shoot his fiancé a warning glare. “Eomma said she wants to sort them out as a wedding present.” Yoongi hisses. “That’s a little scary.” Jimin hits him on the chest again. “No it’s not, it’s sweet. Now touch my fucking dick.” Jimin complains, wiggling uncomfortably. Yoongi is biting into his lip to stop himself from laughing, but obligingly slips one of his hands away from Jimin’s hip to his crotch. There’s a bead of precum glistening in Jimin’s slit and Yoongi runs his thumb through it, spreading it across the tip. Jimin gasps at the contact, “Yes.” He sighs as Yoongi’s thumb continues to smooth around his tip. It feels heavenly, finally getting some much needed friction, and yet at the same time Jimin knows it’s not enough. He needs Yoongi to wrap his hand around him and reduce him to a shivering whimpering mess. “Honeymoon?” Jimin is panting, heat pooling in his belly, coiling tight begging for release that he’s just not going to get from being teased so much. “C-can we afford to leave the country?” Yoongi snorts. “Sunshine, we can afford to buy another country if you wanted.” Jimin clicks his tongue. “Fine, let me rephrase.” He hiccups on a whimper; Yoongi’s thumb digging a little harsher into his slit and making Jimin shudder. “Can you afford to leave the country?” Yoongi’s hands still for a moment and Jimin whines impatiently. “Yeah, probably not. I’d like a longish honeymoon, and I don’t trust leaving the country for that long.” “Jeju it is then.” Jimin huffs in frustration, kicking his hips up against Yoongi’s hand to nudge him back into action. “Stroke me.” Yoongi smirks. “Look at my Sunshine, using his words for once.” “Don’t test me, Yoonie. I’m on edge right now.” Jimin whines. Yoongi is chuckling as he slowly wraps his hand around Jimin and teasingly begins to stroke his ridiculously hard dick. Jimin is hissing at the friction, the blessed friction that he’s been so headily craving for – but it’s still not enough. Yoongi is casually moving his hand up and down, eyes trained on Jimin’s face as it pinches in frustration.

“You’re an ass.” Jimin mumbles, breath hitching at the end. He’s really not sure how much more of this edging he can take before he loses his mind. Yoongi licks his lips wolfishly. “Last question, first dance song?” Jimin is really struggling to focus on anything right now other than Yoongi’s hand on his dick moving slower and slower with each stroke. He’s beyond frustrated, he’s wound up so tight that he could probably burst at any minute and yet his tease of a fiancé wont let him. “N-nugh, I…” Jimin whimpers, words not even forming in his head let alone on his lips. Yoongi’s hand stops, leaving nothing but the ghost of a touch around Jimin’s girth. “Words, the quicker you answer the quicker I’ll make you feel oh so good, Sunshine.” Jimin grumbles, trying his hardest to think of any song that would be good for a first dance. If he were in the right mind, he’d be able to list at least 10 songs that are romantic enough to be for a first dance and an extra 5 more that have significant meaning to the both of them. But right now, Jimin’s brain is full of cotton balls, thoughts lost in fog, and his body is so hot and so needy – he just needs release, god he needs it so bad. “You’re better with music, surprise me.” Jimin grumbles. “Alright, I already have an idea.” Yoongi hums. “Good.” Jimin agrees. “Can I cum now?” “That a request or a demand?” “Whatever’s going to get you to let me cum. Please, please Yoongi.” Jimin begs, shuffling himself closer to his fiancé. He presses his lips down the column of Yoongi’s neck – licking and sucking as he goes and he can feel Yoongi shuddering ever so slightly. Yoongi doesn’t say another word, hand wrapping back around Jimin’s dick and stroking him so quickly that it has Jimin panting and moaning obscenely loud into Yoongi’s skin. His own voice bouncing off the walls and back into his ears and he sounds so filthy that all it does is push him even closer to the edge. That, plus the fact he’s been struggling with teasing and pent up tension for far too long, it doesn’t take very long before Jimin is spilling over Yoongi’s hand, high pitched whine on his lips. Yoongi milks him through his orgasm, hushing and soothing Jimin as he’s pushed from pleasure into slight oversensitivity. “So pretty for me, Sunshine.” Yoongi praises, the hand not covered in cum running up and down Jimin’s arm. “You did so well.” Jimin whines, wriggling in Yoongi’s lap until Yoongi moves his hand away. “Okay, okay.” Yoongi soothes once more. “F-fuck.” Jimin whimpers, head flopping against Yoongi’s shoulder. “I should call my mother, let her know we’ve made some decision.” Yoongi hums. Jimin nuzzles his head further into Yoongi’s neck. “Later, she’s waited this long, a few more hours won’t hurt.” “Hours?” Yoongi chuckles. “What are you planning to do for the next few hours?”

Jimin smirks, kissing the juncture between Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. “Return the favour.” He explains with a wicked tinge to his voice.

____________ 1 Year Ago It happens far too often, that Jimin wakes up on a Saturday morning to an empty bed. It never used to happen when Jimin would spend the weekend at Yoongi’s place, before he moved in with Yoongi. Their precious time together was already so limited back then, what with their busy conflicting work and school life, that nothing could pull them away from each other. But now they share the same space, it feels like Jimin sees his fiancé less instead of the more he was promised, and he really hates it. But he knows it can’t be helped, he knows that Yoongi is incredibly busy what with his work hours being 24/7. Additionally, he can tell that Yoongi is stressed enough over spending so much time away from the apartment, without Jimin pleading for attention like a needy kitten to make it all worse. The least he can do is wait up as late as he can just so he can kiss Yoongi’s stress away when he comes home. Or push a to go mug off black coffee in his hands as he wishes Yoongi a good day whilst the man hurriedly runs out the door. People say he’s got the good makings of a house husband, but Jimin just thinks he’s this attentive to Yoongi because he just loves the man so much. Jimin never really saw himself getting married in the future; he never really thought he needed to get married. His mother raised him on her own with no partner and she’s living a great life, so the prospects of a wedding and a husband was not something high on his priority list. He never even thought he’d ever find love if he’s being honest with himself. Those dark years of high school drilled that mercilessly into his brain after all. But now as he finds his days filled with non stop wedding talk from everyone he knows, he wonders whether his high school self would believe the notion that in three months, Jimin would be a Min. Jimin feels more than just lucky that he gets to spend the rest of his life with a man who loves all aspects of him, dark and light. And Jimin is more than ready to give his everything to Yoongi, and love him through all his dark and light times in return. Even if his dark times are far darker than anything Jimin can ever imagine. The last dregs of the winter sun is pouring into the room and warming it to a comforting temperature. Jimin stretches lazily, hearing nothing but the distant humming of the fridge, and rolls onto his side to face the window. Jimin loves the time when winter melts away to make room for spring. It’s the time when the world comes alive after sleeping for so long, a time for rebirth and change and a time for hope. He sighs, wiping the last remaining sleep out of his eyes. “5,4,3,2,1…” He counts down slowly before hoisting himself into a seated position with a groan. Jimin thinks it’s still pretty early, far earlier than Yoongi would ever willingly get up, and with a glance at the clock on his nightstand, he’s assumption is confirmed. 9:30am. With a little groan, Jimin flops back down on the bed and debates going back to sleep just a little bit longer. Spring might be round the corner and the earth might be slighter warmer, but Jimin still feels

the harsh cold of the winter in his bones, and would love nothing more than to spend the day hibernating. It’s not like he’s got anything to do today, maybe clean up a little because he’s been ignoring it all week. He sighs and stretches his arm up for his phone on the nightstand. He’s not going to do anything today until he sends his fiancé a good morning message. He’s feeling a little sappy this morning – so sue him. Tae Tae 08:00 am TEXT ME WHEN YOU WAKE YOUR ASS UP Jimin cocks his head to the side, there’s an array of bombarding texts from his best friend, all with similar themes of trying to get Jimin to wake up. He pouts, reading the time stamp once more just to make sure he’s seeing it correctly. Because if there’s one person who hates morning’s as much as Yoongi – it’s Kim Taehyung. Maybe it’s a Daegu thing. Chim Chim 09:32 am Is everything okay? Tae Tae 09:32 am FUCKING FINALLY! I WAS ABOUT TO STORM ROUND AND SHAKE YOU THE FUCK AWAKE NOW GO MAKE YOURSELF SOME COFFEE. Chim Chim 09:33 am Coffee? Tae Tae 09:24 am DID A BITCH STUTTER? COFFEE, NOW! Jimin sighs, knowing not to test his best friends patience, especially so early in the morning. He pulls himself out of bed, a shiver running through his spine as the blankets drop from around him. His bare feet are tingling cold on the wooden surface, and Jimin rummages around in the wardrobe until he finds one of Yoongi’s zip up black hoodies. He can feel his phone buzzing madly in his hand as he makes his way towards the kitchen, but Jimin just rolls his eyes. There’s a relatively fresh pot sitting on their counter, still slightly warm and Jimin smiles knowing that Yoongi hasn’t been out of the house all that long. He fills a mug with the lukewarm mix and then pops it in the microwave for a couple of seconds. Tae Tae 09:27 am DID YOU GET IT? DO YOU HAVE IT? FUCKING HELL CHIM ANSWER ME I’M NOT HERE TO BE MESSED WITH PARK (NOT FOR MUCH LONGER) JIMIN A N S W E R M E! Chim Chim 09:45 am Alright, I got it. Tae Tae 09:45 am AND?

Chim Chim 09:46 am And what? It’s just coffee. Tae Tae 09:46 am YOU CLEARLY DIDN’T MAKE IT RIGHT IF YOU’RE NOT ASKING QUESTIONS. DID YOU MAKE IT FRESH? Chim Chim 09:47 am No, Yoongi left enough for me in the pot. Tae Tae 09:47 am FRESH COFFEE CHIM! FRESH COFFEE! GOD, GET WITH THE PROGRAM! Jimin sighs, pulling his steaming mug of coffee out of the microwave and in hailing the rich scent. Something tells him that he’s going to need more than one cup to get him through this day. He takes a tentative sip, careful not to burn his tongue, before leaving the mug on the counter with his phone. He pads over to the cupboard with the coffee, muffled irritated comments on his lips as he goes. He’s not sure whether he’s in the mood to humor his overexcited being of a best friend, but he knows that he’s going to have to deal with whatever Taehyung’s cooked up regardless if he’s ready for it or not. He opens the cupboard, throwing daggers at his phone as it vibrates angrily on the countertop. At the rate Taehyung’s messaging him, his phone’s going to run out of battery before the hour’s out. His attention is snatched back to his process of making a fresh cup of coffee, however, when he pulls the jar of coffee from the shelf and a white envelope flutters out to land on the countertop. It’s only A4 in size, sealed with a red heart sticker and a blank front. No name, address or sender anywhere in sight. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jimin opens the envelope quickly and pulls out the small cream card inside. “We start the hunt in a similar fashion, Seek out the place of beginnings passion, In which a hero, so brave and true, So wrongfully scorned and cut too soon.” Tae. Jimin furrows his brows, rereading the card twice more before he makes it back over to his phone. Chim Chim 09:56 am What’s this? Tae Tae 09:56 am WHAT’S IT LOOK LIKE!? IT’S A CLUE! YOUR BACHELOR PARTY STARTS NOW! CONGRATS Chim Chim 09:57 am Tae Tae, I love you and all. But I’m really struggling to understand here… Tae Tae 09:58 am THE ANSWER TO THE CLUE IS A PLACE IMPORTANT TO YOU AND YOONGLES

FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS AND HEAD THERE FOR YOUR NEXT CLUE! THAT’S ALL THE HELP YOU GET! GOOD LUCK CHIMITHY! Chim Chim 10:00am What do you mean that’s all I get for help? THAT’S NOT HELP AT ALL TAE! I’M NOT REALLY ALLOWED TO GO WALKING AROUND ON MY OWN! TAE! With every unanswered message Jimin sends, the more Jimin realises that there’s no way out of this. This is a Kim Taehyung scheme after all, all Jimin can do is humor him.

_____________ Jimin arrives at the coffee shop with the strongest nostalgic feeling tingling through his bones. It’s been years since he last visited this place and yet nothing about it has changed. It’s small and rustic looking, with large glass windows on the front and a wooden sign over the top that reads ‘Your Local Pick Me Up.’ The small silver tables and chairs out front have been stacked up and covered in a black tarp to protect them from the harsh winter, and Jimin realises that he’s never actually sat in the outside seating before. He’s across the street, waiting for the light to turn green so he can cross, when he sees a familiar mop of green hair, dressed all in black, step out of an even more familiar black town car. Jimin beams from ear to ear, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “YOONGI!” He bellows, snatching his fiancé’s attention towards him. There’s a scowl on his face that immediately softens at the sight of Jimin and Jimin feels all warm and gooey inside at the reminder of how soft his scary mafia fiancé is for him. Yoongi meets him at the other side of the crossing, one hand ungloved and stretched out for Jimin to take. Jimin practically runs across the road, smile splitting from ear to ear. He slips his hand inside Yoongi’s bigger one and gives it an excited squeeze. “Sunshine, did you walk here by yourself?” Yoongi asks and there’s a sharp worry to his voice. Jimin shakes his head, “One of your men dropped me here just a little while ago.” He explains, recalling how the car was downstairs waiting for him, with instructions from Taehyung to take him to one place, and one place only. It’s a good thing Jimin figured out the clue correctly. “What are you doing here? I assumed you had work?” Yoongi sighs relief washing over him that Jimin was smart and safe. He pulls Jimin closer to him so that he can engulf the younger in a side hug, and places a little kiss to his forehead that has Jimin giggling. “I was pulled out of bed this morning by a one soon to be dead Jung Hoseok claiming an emergency at the office.” He grumbles, easily maneuvering the two of them out of the way of people to stand off to the side of the street. “Then was greeted by your ridiculous best friend…” “Oh, he got to you too?” Jimin asks, slipping a little out of Yoongi’s grip to rummage around in his satchel bag for the clue. Yoongi narrows his eyes, “What do you mean, he got to you too?” Jimin finds what he’s looking for, squished dangerously in the bottom of the bag and holds it aloft.

“This! He gave you one too I assume?” Yoongi slips a hand into his long black trench coat and pulls out an identical envelope, the heart sticker ripped to shreds, clearly from Yoongi opening it in annoyance. “I thought our bachelor parties were supposed to be fun?” “It could be fun, we haven’t really started anything yet.” Jimin shrugs, pulling the card out the envelope to read the poem again. Yoongi hums. “You’re right, I still have time to kill Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok before the days out.” Jimin elbows him in the side with a sarcastic scoff. “Calm down, Hades.” “Please, I get enough of that from your mother.” Yoongi grumbles. He rests his chin on Jimin’s shoulder to read the card. “Did you figure it out?” Jimin hums, “It’s the place we first met.” Jimin is smiling, leaning his own head against Yoongi’s. “The place Tae worked at first semester of our first year.” “What’s the bit about a hero beginning wrongfully scorned?” “Tae was fired three weeks in for giving free muffins to anyone who’d let him play with their dog.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “There ain’t nothing wrongfully scorning about being fired for not doing your job.” “I’m really not surprised.” Yoongi sighs. “Well, seeing as we’re here, might as well relive old memories and grab a coffee.” Jimin’s face is split into the biggest of smiles. “Sounds perfect.” He practically purrs, slipping his free hand into Yoongi’s once more and leading the man inside.

____________ The cashier is blinking at Yoongi a little like he’s insane and Jimin is doing a poor job of muffling his giggles. The kid looks young; probably a student just like Taehyung was when he started working here, with a mop of bright blonde hair pushed back in a black cap. “Sorry, what were the names?” He asks once more. Yoongi huffs, not an ounce of embarrassment or worry on him. “Sunshine and Yoonie.” He repeats and Jimin is collapsed into his fiancé’s arm unable to hold back the chuckles. It really does look like such a sight; a scary looking man dressed all in black with a scowl that could split you in two, ordering two sugar frappes and using cute nicknames. The cashier nods, “Okay, give me one second.” He explains tottering off out back. “Why is it so hard to find decent coffee shop workers?” Yoongi grumbles, shuffling on his feet. Jimin giggles. “Don’t be so harsh on barista, they’re not all bad.” Yoongi doesn’t have time for a witty response back, as the cashier is returning with a white to-go cup in his hands. He pushes it across the counter with a sarcastic smirk on his lips. “Honestly man, when that dude came in and asked for help with a treasure hunt, we thought he was just playing

some kind of prank.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think people would actually come in for this…” Jimin reaches for the cup, the word ‘Sunshine’ written on it in Taehyung’s easily identifiable chicken scratch. “Said man, was he fairly tall, gangly looking? Loud in an obnoxiously endearing way and dressed in ripped clothing?” The guy nods. “Said to give this to the person that orders a coffee for ‘sunshine.’ But do you guys still want the coffee you ordered?” Yoongi levels the kid with a look that has him gulping down what Jimin can only assume is fear. “I-I’ll get right on those then…” he mumbles before shuffling away hurriedly. Jimin, still giggling at the whole situation, carefully takes the cup off the counter. It’s light, and as Jimin opens it he finds a cream card – identical to the one in the first envelope. But this time, the clue is incredibly shorter; “You’re late, you’re late. For a very important date.” Jisu. “It’s from Eomma.” Jimin mumbles, turning the card over as if the answer to the riddle would be printed on the back. Yoongi clicks his tongue and slips the card out of Jimin’s hands to inspect for himself. “Just like Taehyung to get everyone involved.” “God, I really hope my mother isn’t going to be at the bachelor party, because knowing Tae it’s going to be far too inappropriate, even for her.” Jimin shivers. “I thought you and your mother were close?” Yoongi teases. Jimin sighs. “Close, but not close enough to divulge details of my sex life. We scared her once by fucking in my old bedroom whilst she was down stairs, lets not do it again shall we?” Yoongi chuckles, nodding along in agreement. “You know what the clue means?” Jimin smirks. “Suddenly you seem very onboard with this treasure hunt.” “If I get to spend the day with you, I don’t care what we do.” “You sap.” Jimin teases, but he’s blushing nonetheless. “Only for you.” Yoongi winks. Their order is called with a shaky voice and the two walk over to the collection counter. “This is what the white rabbit says in Alice in Wonderland.” Jimin explains tapping the card with a smirk. “What’s that got to do with us?” Yoongi asks, grabbing both their drinks and heading towards the door. “Did I ever tell you what happened before we went on our first date?” Jimin asks, slipping the second clue in the white envelope with the first. “How I was freaking out so much I called my mother to calm me down?” Yoongi’s smirking, passing Jimin’s caramel macchiato to him. “You did not tell me, and I’d love to hear the whole story.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell you on the way.” “To where?” “That old hamburger joint you took me on our first date.”

____________ Turns out the old hamburger joint is no longer up and running as in its place sits a brand new Yoga studio. Jimin feels a little sad at the fact that the place that holds such an important memory for them is gone. But he supposes this is the way of the ever-changing world. They have the rest of their lives together to make new important memories in even more interesting places. “I suppose it was a pretty shitty place.” Yoongi reminisces. “I take full responsibility for not planning a better first date.” Jimin shrugs, playing with Yoongi’s fingers in their joined hands. “I didn’t mind, as far as first dates go yours was the best.” Yoongi nudges him. “You’re just saying that.” “Well, I’m still with you aren’t I?” Jimin clarifies. “So clearly you did something right.” Yoongi pulls their joined hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss there gently. “Now who’s the sap?” He comments and Jimin just pushes himself closer to Yoongi’s side, enjoying the warmth his fiancé radiates. “Well, I doubt it’s going to be here considering we did not do Yoga for our first date.” “Then we should try the arcade.” Jimin suggests. Yoongi is already leading them down the street towards the arcade just a few blocks away. “God, I’m fucking awful at planning dates.” “Actually, I think you’ll find I was the one who suggested going to the arcade.” Jimin reasons. “Only because I was running out of ideas.” “I was too busy enjoying just talking to you to notice, love.” And it’s true, Jimin remembers their first date like it was just yesterday. He remembers everything down to the colour of Yoongi’s socks; to the meals they ordered and ended up sharing, to the toy chick that Yoongi won him from the claw machine. He still has it, after all, sitting proudly on his nightstand looking a little worse for wear after becoming Jimin’s cuddle buddy when Yoongi was away. Every second of it he spent smiling so happily that it hurt his cheeks, it’s up there in his top ten favorite memories of all time. They walk in silence towards the arcade; the noise of the street the only thing that fills their silence and Jimin feels so content. It’s been a while since the two of them just spent the day walking around town. Yoongi has been busy with work recently, Jimin’s been busy finishing up his last year at college and the two of them have collectively been busy planning the wedding. There’s been very little time to spend together that hasn’t included wedding talk, and Jimin’s missed it, missed them. “Do you remember which machine you won the chick from?” Jimin asks as they finally step inside

the obnoxiously loud arcade. Yoongi scoffs, pulling Jimin towards the back. “Of course, I lost 70000 won trying to win you that fucking chick.” “Aigo, don’t blame Diminie for your terrible skill at crane games.” Jimin taunts. “You just had to have that stupid thing.” “Hey! You were the one adamant on winning it for me.” Jimin corrects in mock outrage. “Because, and I quote, it looks just like you, it’s cute.” “I think your memory is warped, Sunshine.” Yoongi concludes pulling them up to a small inconspicuous looking machine towards the back left corner of the arcade. The whole thing is empty, save for a white envelope with a red heart sticker lying just below the claw of the machine. “Think you can get that without blowing 70000 won, Yoonie?” Jimin taunts. Yoongi releases Jimin’s hands, cracking his knuckles before pulling out his wallet. “Watch me get it in no more than 5 tries.” He explains smugly, but all it does is have Jimin shaking his head. Because it most certainly takes longer than 5 tries for Yoongi to snag the envelope, not that Jimin’s surprised. His fiancé doesn’t blow 70000 won, but he does have to run to the nearest ATM to get more cash out. The whole time Jimin is laughing, suggesting whether he should give it a try, but only to be shot down by a ridiculously competitive Yoongi. He shoves the envelope into Jimin’s chest, irritation bleeding across his face. “Taehyung’s paying back every penny I lost.” “Sure thing, honey.” Jimin winks, carefully opening the third clue. “The best feeling in the world is kissing someone for the first time when you’ve really wanted to kiss them for a long time.” Hobi. “This is the easiest one yet!” Jimin explains, turning the card round for Yoongi to read. “It’s where we had our first kiss.” “We’re re-discovering a lot of our firsts today.” Yoongi explains. “I have to admit, it’s kind of nice.” “A proper trip down memory lane! Taehyung maybe a little extravagant in his ways, but you have to admit he’s good.” Jimin nods, slipping the second envelope in his bag. “Do you remember where our first kiss was?” Yoongi scoffs, “Please, I waited so fucking long to kiss you Sunshine, there’s no way I’d ever forget it.” “Me too.” Jimin groans. “God, I spent that long ass time after our first date, just imagining what it’d be like to kiss you and whining about it to Tae any chance I got. And now I get to kiss you whenever I want, we’ve had such a glow-up.” “Hoseok told me, that he planned to get us to ‘accidentally’ meet again that day, just so that we could chat and plan a second date. He didn’t expect you to attack me as soon as our eyes locked.” Yoongi

chuckles. Jimin feels his cheeks flushing. “I didn’t attack you…” “Sunshine, you ran across the road and jumped on me.” “I didn’t jump on you…” “We didn’t even say hello before you were trying to stick your tongue down my throat.” Jimin whines, burying his face in the crook of his husband’s neck. “You were trying just as hard to stick your tongue down my throat.” “I gave as good as I got, I suppose.” Yoongi teases. Jimin just manages to stop himself stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum. But there’s a still a whine in his voice. “Man, we made out for a good two minutes right in the middle of the street for everyone to watch.” Yoongi continues to tease. “Stop it!” Jimin groans, cool hands flying to his hot cheeks. “C’mon let’s head to the office and reenact it.” Yoongi is chuckling, trying to get Jimin to move away from his chest so they can start walking. Jimin smacks him on the chest, face too flushed red to go anywhere. “Stop!”

____________

Yoongi’s receptionist, Soomi, is waiting for them with a cheery smile on her lips and a little wave. “Good afternoon Sir, Jimin-oppa.” She greets with a little bow. Jimin likes Soomi, she’s always smiling and always willing to spare a few moments to keep Jimin company whilst he hangs around for Yoongi. She’s a little younger than him, currently working for Yoongi and going to college part time because she can’t afford to go full time. Jimin isn’t the only one with a soft spot for the slight, smartly dressed girl. Namjoon’s let it slip on more than one occasion that Yoongi always gives Soomi the biggest bonus out of all his employees at the end of the year. Today she’s dressed in a soft grey pencil skirt and a pastel mint pussy bow blouse that makes her already slim figure even smaller. Her little feet are tucked into sensible black heels and her raven black hair is pulled back into a messy bun. Jimin wonders whether he’s ever seen Soomi at the office on Saturdays, usually Yoongi has different staff for weekend and weekday shifts. “Did Taehyung make you come in today?” Yoongi asks, and his voice sounds more than a little irritated. Soomi swipes her hand in a ‘don’t worry’ gesture. “I overheard him talking to Hoseok-ssi and I volunteered to help.” She explained. Jimin has heard stories about Yoongi’s past receptionists, all walking around the office on eggshells and none lasting longer than a few months. He gets it, Yoongi is an intimidating guy – beyond terrifying, and could easily induce panic attacks in people with a simple look. But Soomi has stuck around for the entire time Jimin has known Yoongi and it always makes him

feel a little proud seeing how calmly and collectively she handles his fiancé’s sometimes, irrational behavior. She’s appreciated throughout the office for sticking things out as long as she has, and her secretarial skills are most definitely admirable. “Well, you should still be enjoying your day off.” Jimin smiles gently her way. “So hand over the clue and go enjoy your freedom.” Soomi nods, hands slipping into her black handbag to pull out the fourth clue of the day. “Have fun.” She winks, placing it in Yoongi’s hands before scuttling off down the street with one last wave thrown behind her. Yoongi waits until she’s out of sight, eyes running over the street as she walks, checking faces for people Jimin really doesn’t want to think about. It’s a habit that Yoongi has; he barely relaxes whilst they’re out and about, eyes constantly looking for danger that could easily creep up on them at a moments notice. Yoongi is constantly ready to be attacked, and Jimin constantly wishes he didn’t have to be. Yoongi practically tears the envelope open once Soomi slips down the steps to the subway at the end of the street, heart sticker ripping in half as he does. He scans his eyes over the words once, face splitting into a gummy grin before he’s bent over laughing ridiculously loudly and drawing curious gazes from the passersby. “What? What is it?” Jimin asks, hands snatching the paper from Yoongi to read it for himself. “Calm down bitch, it’s not that deep.” Yerin. Jimin feels a familiar sense of dread bubbling through his veins that turns the tips of his ears red. The memory replaying over and over in his head like a gag reel and making his stomach churn in absolute mortification. “I have tried so hard to forget this.” Jimin mumbles. “W-why? It’s the first time we said ‘I love you.’” Yoongi taunts. Jimin can feel his face pulling in pure horror. “I called your mother a bitch.” “Actually, you told her to ‘calm down bitch.’ That’s not as bad.” Yoongi mocks, fingers signing quotation marks in the air. “It’s possibly the best thing I’ve ever heard you say.” “I can’t believe me cussing your mother out is higher on your list then the first time I said I love you.” Jimin mumbles, arms folded about his chest and clue card crumpling between his fingers. Yoongi sighs out the last of his laughter, slipping the crumbled card out of Jimin’s tight grip. “I can’t even remember why you shouted at her?” Yoongi explains, re-reading the words on the card with a softness to his eyes that melts Jimin’s sulking just a little bit. “I remember you saying this, my mother looking like you just threw up a walrus, my father looking like he’s about to burst a blood vessel laughing so hard and me telling you I loved you.” Jimin sighs, arms flopping dejectedly to his sides. “If you rack your brains, you’ll remember it was the first time I met your parents.” “Fuck, yeah, yeah it was.” Yoongi smirks. “What an impression you made.” “Your mother spent the entire day, nit picking at every little thing I did. From how I held my

chopsticks, to how I pronounced certain words. Then she offered me red wine with dinner, and I politely turned it down because I didn’t want to get tipsy in front of your parents. And she just wouldn’t let the topic die.” Jimin explains with an exasperated sigh. “Oh Jimin, you must have very childish taste buds if you can’t handle wine with your meal…” Jimin pulls his voice into a high nasally pitch as he mocks his soon to be mother-in-law. Yoongi’s chuckling again, drawing the attention of the passersby in the street again as he does. “I remember now, you looked her dead in the eyes with the coldest expression I’ve ever seen on your face and said…” “Calm down bitch, it’s not that deep.” Jimin repeats and it has Yoongi bent over in stitches of laughter whilst Jimin rolls his eyes. “It’s not that funny, your mother looked like she was going to skin me alive.” “She probably would have if I hadn’t told you I loved you.” Yoongi elaborates between his deep chuckles. “She probably still would have if I didn’t say I love you back.” Jimin mumbles. “At least your father admired my slip up.” Yoongi pulls himself back to a standing position. “Hey, I enjoyed your slip up too.” “Yes, but you love me, you had to enjoy my slip up.” Jimin corrects. “Your parents could have thrown me on the street and told me to never go near their precious son again.” Yoongi loops his arms around Jimin’s back and pulls him flush against Yoongi’s chest. “They’d have no say in the matter, trust me.” Jimin sighs, looping his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “Do you think Tae’s going to make us go all the way to Daegu?” Yoongi scoffs. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

____________ “Two tickets to Daegu please.” Yoongi informs the guy behind the ticket counter. He’s old, with thinning grey hair and a stout bot belly of a body. He’s sweating behind his desk despite the cool temperature outside and there’s a large yellow stain on the blue shirt of his uniform. “Can I get a name for the booking reference?” The guy asks monotonously, like a tape recorder playing the same thing over and over again. “Min Yoongi.” “Oh, just a second.” The guy explains, eyes perking up at the name. He slips himself off his chair – more like tumbles in Jimin’s opinion – before tottering his way out back. “He’s got the clue.” Yoongi explains, leaning casually against the wall near the ticket window. Jimin snickers. “You’re taking this pretty seriously.” “If Tae wants to play a game, then I’m gonna play a game, Sunshine.” Yoongi explains with a determined glint to his eye. “I’m here to win.”

Jimin pats him in a placating way on the arm. “Of course you are.” The guy returns, huffing and panting as he flops himself back on the chair. Anyone would think he’d just run 5 miles instead of popping out to the back room. He slips the white envelope with the red heart on it under the clear plastic guard with a smile on his thin lips. “Congratulations.” He adds. “Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles snatching up the envelope. He places his hand on the small of Jimin’s back and maneuvers them both out of the que and back onto the street where it’s a little less crowded. “You wanna open it?” He offers once they’re stood off to the side of the street. Jimin scoffs. “And deny you your fun?” Yoongi just rolls his eyes, ripping into the envelope. Jimin skips round to lean against Yoongi’s left arm so the two of them can read it together. “To continue in our game of firsts, I ask you to think of times a thirst. In which things boiled to such a height, all romance was lost through a rushed unite.” Jin. “Fuck, I was never any good at poetry.” Jimin grumbles, kicking his foot up to rest against the wall behind him. He folds his arms and rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Any ideas?” “Sex.” “Later, I’ll ride you if you want.” Jimin answers almost mechanically, like a trained response whilst his brain still tries to decipher the clue. “No, it’s talking about sex.” Yoongi chuckles waving the clue in his hand and Jimin feels his cheeks flush. Yoongi flicks his forehead affectionately. “Head out of the gutter Sunshine.” “Well, I’m definitely not gonna ride you now.” Jimin grumbles through his blush. Yoongi chuckles, planting a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head. “Want me to eat you out instead?” Jimin is flushing brilliantly right down his neck now, hands clutching a little needily to his fiancé’s jacket sleeve. “God, yes.” He breathes. “Later, for now let’s head back to your old apartment.” Yoongi explains, easily slipping his hand out of Jimin’s clutch to wrap around his waist. “I feel like we’re smashing through this. Tae should have at least made it somewhat difficult.”

____________ Clearly, Yoongi spoke too soon. Because as the two of them dejectedly walk down the steps of the old Myeongdong apartment block, after embarrassingly intruding on the new tenant of Jimin’s old apartment and finding no clue hidden anywhere inside, they’re both coming up at a blank as to what the clue actually means. “It’s clearly the first time we had sex.” Yoongi grumbles, stopping on the ground floor by the exit, eyes scanning over the words for probably the hundredth time. “Of which we’re both 100% positive was in your old apartment seeing as we were the only two there.” Jimin sighs. “Maybe it’s not talking about our first time? Maybe it’s a different time?”

“To continue in our game of firsts.” Yoongi reads aloud. “Clearly, it’s our first time. And the fact we waited through 5 months of tentative touches and unnecessary pinning before we did finally do anything…” “Unnecessary pinning seems to be a theme with us.” “So this bit about ‘times a thirst’, is clearly talking about how fucking desperate we were for each other.” Yoongi finishes. Jimin furrows his eyebrows, teeth gnawing into his bottom lip. “All romance was lost…” He mumbles, words reread so many times in the last half an hour that he’s got them memorized. “I remember our first time being pretty romantic.” “And it wasn’t rushed either, we purposefully took our time because of what happened in the car…” Yoongi begins, trail of thought dying out on his tongue. The two lock eyes, the same light-bulb moment pinging off in their heads. “I thought we both mutually agreed to tell everyone our first time was in your apartment.” Yoongi states with a slight narrow of his eyebrows. “We did. You think I want to advertise to the world that we were so desperate to fuck, that we ended up doing it in the backseat of your town car with nothing but a blackout window separating us and your driver?” Jimin spits, voice hushed out through his teeth. “Then how the fuck do these fuckers know about it?” Yoongi spits back. “Did your driver tell them?” Jimin tries to justify. Yoongi runs a hand through his mint locks look so sharp it practically pierces through Jimin’s skin. “You really think he’d risk his life in doing so?” Jimin shivers; pushing aside the fact his husband has just openly admitted that he would willingly kill his own men. “Then help me out here, because I can’t think of how else they would know?” “Maybe they’re just fucking with us.” Yoongi suggests, hand automatically reaching out for Jimin’s. “Maybe they couldn’t get the guy in your old apartment to help them out, so they hid it somewhere else?” Jimin nods. “That sounds plausible.” He agrees as the two of them make their way back outside. But the sight of Yoongi’s black town car sitting on the curb outside the apartment block has that trail of thought dying before it even has a chance to blossom. Yoongi’s driver is stood by the back door, a small smile on his face as he holds the back door open for them. “Those fuckers.” Jimin grumbles. “Couldn’t have put it better myself, Sunshine.” Yoongi agrees, practically dragging Jimin down the steps towards the car. “Lee.” Yoongi’s voice is icy sharp, filled with cold anger that sends a shiver up Jimin’s spine again. He can see Lee physically gulp, spare hand sliding into his jacket pocket. “Jung-ssi told me to tell you, that I have no hand to play in this at all.” Lee explains quickly, Jimin can hear the slight panic and worry in his tone, but his expressionless face still remains blank. Something Taehyung has tried numerous to try and crack – but Lee is always professionally straight faced.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi demands. “He said he’ll explain everything when you meet him at your final destination.” He explains, handing a 6th clue to them. “And where is our final destination?” Yoongi demands once more, snatching the envelope roughly out of his hands. Lee straightens himself up, “Wherever the clue tells you to go.” “Wait.” Jimin interrupts. “This is the last clue?” He can’t help but let the slight disappointment that their day together is coming to an end seep into his voice. “Yes, sir.” Lee supplies. Jimin slips the envelope out of Yoongi’s hand. “Oh.” He mumbles, fingers slowly opening it. Yoongi scoffs. “Hoseok and Taehyung are ever closer to their deaths.” Jimin sighs. “Don’t kill our friends.” He scolds. “I’ve actually really enjoyed today. I’m sad that it’s over.” “I crave death.” Jimin huffs. “Jesus, Mr. dark and broody, could you lighten up for a little bit to reminisce in how nice a day we’ve had? If not for your own sake, for mine?” Yoongi sighs, deflating easily at Jimin’s request and he pulls the younger into a hug. “Sorry Sunshine.” He apologizes before kissing the corner of Jimin’s mouth. “You’re right, it has been fun being reminded of all the things that made me fall in love with you.” Jimin smiles so wide his eyes crinkle into smiles of their own. He loops his arms around Yoongi’s neck and dives in for another kiss, this one full on the mouth. It’s brief and finishes all too quick, but Jimin can feel all the love they share between the connection and it warms his chest. “Thank you, for loving me.” Jimin whispers into Yoongi’s mouth before pressing his lips to Yoongi’s once more. Yoongi is smiling into the kisses, arms tightening in their hold around Yoongi’s waist, teeth nipping along Jimin’s bottom lip as they pull away. “It should be me thanking you for loving someone like me.” “You make it so easy, Yoonie.” Jimin explains. “I know you lead a dark life and I know there’s parts of yourself that I will never be able to understand. But I have never gone a day in the past 4 years we’ve been together, where I have not felt loved, or protected or safe with you. You’re constantly giving me your everything, dark and light, and I’m more than willing to love all of you to the best of my abilities. You’re my world, Min Yoongi.” “Fuck, do you know how weak I am for you, Sunshine?” Yoongi practically groans into the slither of space between them. “Probably as much as I am for you.” Jimin answers and Yoongi replies with a third kiss. It’s more heated this time, a passion burning through their veins as their fingers cling desperately to one another.

Lee coughs a little awkwardly to their left, and the couple break away from their heated kiss with matching red cheeks. They’ve only fucked one time in the back of Yoongi’s town car, and Jimin intends to keep it that way. “W-we should open the last clue.” Jimin suggests, running a hand through his hair a little embarrassed. Yoongi nods, taking the envelope from Jimin’s hands and prying it open. He holds it out so the both of them can read it, all while keeping Jimin wrapped up securely in his free arm and pulled gently to his chest. “With your last clue, I bring you to the start of Chapter 2.” Joon. “This mean something to you?” Jimin asks, resting his head on Yoongi’s chest as he reads over the words once more. Yoongi hums. “I walked around with your engagement ringing burning a hole in my pocket for months. Joon was the only one that knew, he found out because the box fell out of my jacket pocket one day in the office when he moved it to sit on the couch.” “That’s kinda cute.” Jimin coos. Yoongi scoffs. “It’s kind of embarrassing.” He corrects. “But when Joon asked me about it, all I could say, was that I was so ready to start our chapter 2, but I just can’t find the right time to do so.” Jimin feels soft and mushy, like he’s been sat for a long time in a microwave and has melted under the heat. His heart feels so light, as if it’s full of hot air and inflating his chest as it grows three sizes bigger. His fingers grip just a little tighter into the collar of Yoongi’s Jacket, and there’s a face splitting grin across his face that he buries into Yoongi’s shirt. “You alright?” Yoongi asks, fingers rubbing soothingly into Jimin’s back. Jimin nods. “Just a little overwhelmed.” He mumbles into Yoongi’s shirt. “How do you make me fall in love with you over and over again?” “I dunno.” Yoongi admits. “But we’ve got the rest of our lives to figure it out.” Jimin hums contently. “So we’re heading back to our apartment?” “I suppose that is where I actually ended up proposing.” Yoongi sighs. “Even if it was mid fight.” “We’re a little unconventional, aren’t we?” Jimin giggles. “We are.” Yoongi agrees. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” “Do you think Tae hired a stripper?” Jimin adds as the two untangle themselves to get in the car. Yoongi grumbles. “I’ll skin him alive if he has.” ____________ Out of all the possibilities that Jimin thought could happen at their bachelor party, standing in nothing but pink frilly lingerie with his husband-to-be handcuffed to a chair in their bedroom, was not one of

them. Yoongi looks far more disheveled than Jimin last remembers him being, that being roughly two hours ago, when the two of them walked through their front door, only to be greeted with loud music and their four friends popping party streamers in their faces. They’d decorated the apartment as crudely as they possibly could, a sight that would leave even the great Min Yerin speechless. With inflatable dicks littering the floor amongst clear balloons that look suspiciously like inflated condoms. Incredibly untactful scenes from pornos cover their walls; the photo’s badly edited so that Jimin’s and Yoongi’s face cover the actor’s own faces. The food has all been arranged to look as phallic as possible and the music that has been chosen for the evening’s events sounds like it’s come from the playlist of a strip joint. Seokjin had held out a tray of jello shots in an array of neon colours, explain something about how they’d need it to get through the rest of the night, and Yoongi downed four in one standing. Jimin doesn’t remember many details of what followed in the next few hours, besides having numerous concoctions of alcoholic jellies pushed into his hand by Taehyung. Jimin should have been more suspicious that Taehyung and Seokjin were monopolizing his time, whilst Namjoon and Hoseok were busy fussing over Yoongi who was clearly getting far too drunk. He doesn’t remember how he got into the lingerie he’s currently sporting. His alcohol fuzzed brain seems to remember being shoved into the bathroom, with Taehyung cackling like a mad man about his ‘wedding night present’ for Jimin that he wanted to check fits properly. And Jimin, being slightly worse for wear, and incredibly gullible, had gone along with Taehyung’s lies. The next thing he knows, he’s being shoved into his own bedroom, only to find Yoongi wriggling angrily in one of their dining room chairs, ankles and legs cuffed to it with fluffy pink handcuffs. And now, they’re at a stalemate, the two of them eyeing each other up as if waiting for someone to pounce first. Yoongi’s eyes are blown wide, tongue continuously darting out to lick at dry lips, and his breathing is labored. Jimin can see a slight bulge in his black slacks, and it has Jimin gulping down a lump in his throat. Maybe he will ride Yoongi tonight after all. “Sunshine…” Yoongi begins, voice pushed out through a hiss. “Why are you dressed like that?” “Remember when I suggested Taehyung might volunteer to be the stripper?” Yoongi nods, teeth worrying into his bottom lip, clearly trying to keep himself together. “Well, I think, maybe, I’m meant to be the stripper.” Yoongi whines, eyes slamming shut as he wriggles in his chair. The sight has Jimin’s heart skipping a few beats and liquid hot fire burning through his veins. He’ll never tire, even after all this time together, of just how affected and turned on he can make Yoongi. It’s a confidence that took a while for Jimin to properly understand, but it’s one that could only have been installed by the man he gets to call his. He’s not sure whether it’s the copious amounts of alcohol in his system, or the sudden burning need bubbling across his skin, but in a daring move Jimin starts slowly running his hands down his chest. “What’s the matter?” Don’t I look pretty?” He asks with pink dusting his cheeks and a coy smile on his lips. Yoongi looks like he’s choking on his words, a first considering the man always knows what to say. Jimin assumes he must have drunk far more than his usual intake. But the fact Yoongi’s not replying to him, not complimenting him, has Jimin’s lips pulling in a pout.

“Am I not pretty for you?” Jimin whines, fingers tangling gently in the sheer pink fabric of the baby doll and sashaying it a little so Yoongi can get a better look at his panties. All in all, Jimin has to say that Taehyung has good taste in lingerie. The pink is soft, almost innocent looking against his golden skin and feels silky to the touch. The baby doll is slightly see-through, falling just at the tops of his thighs and teases glimpses of the silky pink panties underneath when he moves. His legs are wrapped in white cotton stockings with pink bows at the top, the garter straps digging into the flesh of his thick thighs in a way he knows has Yoongi’s mouth watering. But the true masterpiece of the whole ensemble is the back of his panties. As the thin fabric of the thong is hidden between his ass cheeks, leaving nothing of his shapely ass up for imagination. With a coy smile, Jimin turns slowly on his tiptoes, so his back is facing Yoongi, and he bends forward ever so slightly just to pull his stockings up a little higher. “Fuck.” Yoongi growls at the sight and Jimin can hear the chair scraping against their floor as he wriggles to get free. “Get that ass over here, now.” Yoongi’s voice is so deep and so rough that it has Jimin shivering in anticipation. Jimin bites down into his bottom lip, spinning daintily on his toes and slowly making his walk over. “But, I want to know if I look pretty.” Yoongi has his eyes narrowed, breathing roughly as he watches Jimin. He looks so wrecked already; the strain in his pants even bigger than before, and it has Jimin feeling too hot. “You know you look beautiful, Sunshine.” Yoongi explains as Jimin comes to stand in front of him. Jimin whimpers. “I do?” Yoongi is smirking coyly. “You do, so beautiful. All pretty just for me. My Sunshine.” Jimin whines. “Yoongi…” “Seems like I can’t make good on my promise right now.” Yoongi explains. “Promise?” “To eat your pretty ass out.” Yoongi clarifies and Jimin shucks in a harsh breath, skin burning red. “Oh god.” Jimin groans and he can feel his own cock straining in the silk panties. His hand reaches down to his crotch, a small wet patch staining the silk and Jimin whimpers as he wraps his hand around the bulge. “Does it feel good, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks, eyes watching heatedly as Jimin palms himself through his panties. Jimin nods, hands squeezing around his clothed member and teeth buried harshly in his bottom lip. “God, you look so sinful, Sunshine.” “Y-Yoongi…” Jimin whimpers, hands darting to slip under the silk to get some skin on skin contact. “Stop.” Yoongi orders, and Jimin does so with a petulant whine. “You need to help me first, don’t you Sunshine?” Jimin nods eagerly, closing the small space between them and fiddling with the button of Yoongi’s slacks, and Yoongi has to raise his hips so that Jimin can pull his pants and underwear down to his ankles. Jimin licks his lips as he watches Yoongi’s dick sprung free, his fiancé hissing from the contact of the cold air, hands clenched tightly into fists in the cuffs. Jimin runs his hands down the milky planes of Yoongi’s thighs, pushing them as wide as he can whilst his ankles are bound to the chair.

“I have an idea.” Jimin hums as he slowly lowers himself to his knees. “Oh?” Yoongi asks, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes never once leaving Jimin. “I’m going to suck you off, then go and steal the keys to these cuffs from Tae.” Jimin explains, hands palming up and down Yoongi’s thighs. “Then we can kick them out, and you can make good on that promise.” Yoongi moans with a wolfish lick of his lips. “Sounds like everything I’ve ever wanted from a bachelor party.” Jimin bites into his bottom lip, hand slowly making its way up to Yoongi’s dick. “It’s been too long since I’ve had you in my mouth.” He comments with a contented little hum at the prospect. Yoongi’s breath leaves him in a long sigh, fingernails digging into the wood of the armrest of the chair. “You’re always so good with your mouth, Sunshine.” Jimin shivers at the compliment, before leaning in and licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi groans, loudly and wantonly, head thrown back and eyes jammed shut. Jimin grins, feeling prickling heat across his skin, before darting his tongue out to kittenishly lick at the bead of precum gathered in Yoongi’s slit. “Sunshine, stop being such a tease.” Yoongi orders, but his breathing is so shallow there’s no real dominance in it. “The quicker you wrap those pretty little lips around me, the quicker I can take care of you.” Jimin fidgets where he’s knelt, his own dick so strained and uncomfortable against the silk of the panties, that any slight movement sends tiny shocks of pleasure through his veins. He removes his mouth from the tip of Yoongi’s dick, hand replacing it quickly to jerk his lover off at a slow pace. “But it’s my turn to take care of you right now, Yoongi, don’t rush me.” He replies, with a sly smirk and a mischievous glint in his eye. Yoongi’s hands are straining so hard against the fluffy metal cuffs, that Jimin wouldn’t be surprised if the man didn’t all but rip himself free of the constraints. “F-fuck, okay, okay. Take care of me, Sunshine.” Yoongi replies, and the words have Jimin keening. Jimin’s tongue darts out again to lick at the tip, hand cupping his balls and squeezing gently. His eyes watch Yoongi from his place between his legs, heat bubbling within him at the sight of his fiancé melting under Jimin’s actions. It’s the hottest thing in the world, seeing Yoongi so needy for him. Seeing a notoriously dangerous and terrifying mafia leader weak only for him. He wraps his lips around the tip and suckles, sharp breaths pulling through Yoongi’s teeth and Jimin wishes he could feel Yoongi’s hands pulling at his hair, the sting always felt so good. “S-Sunshine…” Yoongi moans, eyes finally opening to lock gazes with Jimin. His pupils are blown, cat eyes hooded at the sight before him and his mouth is slack as it lets harsh breaths fall from it. Jimin whines around the tip, squirming and pushing his thighs together to get some much needed friction. Jimin has never wanted Yoongi to touch him more, all because he knows the man can’t. He’s loving the way he has control over his lover’s pleasure, but Jimin is a tactile, needy being, and not having Yoongi’s constantly wandering hands all over him is testing his patience. He sinks down on Yoongi’s length; tongue flat against his dick until his nose is brushing against Yoongi’s neatly trimmed pubic hairs, and the tip is tickling the back of his throat. Yoongi feels heavy

on his tongue; his girth leaving Jimin’s mouth stretched wide and it has tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “G-god, Sunshine, look at you.” Yoongi stutters. “You look so good with my dick in your mouth. Like you were made for it, baby.” Jimin whines around his mouthful and it has Yoongi hissing out another groan again. Jimin sets to work quickly, the heat bubbling needily in his stomach that he so desperately needs Yoongi to quell. He bobs eagerly up and down Yoongi’s length, tongue swirling at the tip as he goes. Yoongi has been reduced to a literary of cussing and intense labored breaths; head thrown back against the chair once more, which means that all Jimin can see when he looks up is the man’s chin. And Jimin doesn’t like that. He slips off with a pop and lets out a loud needy whine, thighs rubbing together to create that delicious friction once more. Yoongi lolls his head around to look down at Jimin, so lost to his arousal that Jimin can practically see his reflection in the glossy, glassy irises of his eyes. “What’s the matter, Sunshine?” He pants. “Was I ignoring you?” Jimin nods with a pout on his glistening lips, thighs still rubbing together. Yoongi chuckles. “M’sorry, it was just so good, Sunshine. Forgive me?” Jimin darts his tongue out to wet his lips, he can taste Yoongi’s precum smeared across them and it has him craving more. Jimin gives in easily to his fiancé’s apologies, locking eye contact with him in a silent request not to look away. If he can’t have tactile reassurance from the man, he at least wants to be watched. Jimin suckles at Yoongi’s tip again, collecting the bead of precum there on his tongue to swallow before he takes Yoongi’s entire length into his mouth once more. He hums around it, Yoongi’s thighs straining under his hands as he forces himself to stop his hips from bucking up into Jimin’s warm mouth. Jimin pops off Yoongi’s dick once more, breathing harshly as he does and Yoongi lets out a little whine. “Sunshine…” He complains. Jimin steadies his breathing. “F-fuck my mouth.” He pleads more than demands and it has a red tint burning across his cheeks. “Shit.” Yoongi breathes, placing his feet more securely on the floor. Jimin doesn’t even stop to think about how the metal may chafe at Yoongi’s ankles. His head is too fogged over in need, in want, and all teasing about taking his time has flown right out the window. Jimin needs the man unhandcuffed within the next ten minutes or he may lose his mind. Jimin rests up higher on his knees; jaw slack as he wraps it around Yoongi’s dick once more. He doesn’t even have a moment to collect himself before Yoongi’s hips is moving at a brutal pace, the tip of his dick hitting the back of Jimin’s throat over and over again. There are tears falling in Jimin’s eyes, breath coming out harshly through his nose as he practically chokes on his fiancé’s dick. His fingernails dig into Yoongi’s thighs, his knees are aching from holding his entire weight and yet Jimin can’t seem to find it in him to care. Not when Yoongi is making such wonderful noises, moaning and hissing into the overly hot bedroom. Not when he’s telling Jimin how beautiful he is, how good he is and how wonderful he is. Not when Yoongi’s rhythm starts to stutter, and he begins whispering ‘I love you’ like it’s the most important secret he holds.

“S-sunshine, m’coming…” Yoongi stutters, and Jimin pinches his fiancé’s thigh to let him know that it’s okay. Yoongi stills his hips three thrusts later and releases down Jimin’s throat. Jimin whines as the warm liquid fills his mouth, some spilling at the corners of his lips, trying his best to swallow everything Yoongi gives him. Yoongi’s hips flop back onto the chair, panting heavily into the room. But Jimin’s mouth follows him; licking and sucking up every last drop of cum until Yoongi’s completely clean. “Such a good boy, all for me.” Yoongi praises and it has Jimin’s heart soaring as he grins up at his love. “Kiss me.” Yoongi orders and Jimin scrambles up into the man’s lap, wanting nothing more than to do as he says. The kiss is tender, slow and gentle as Yoongi comes down from his high. Jimin cradles his fiancé’s face, fingers pressing gently into his cheeks as if holding the most valuable thing in the world. And, to Jimin, Yoongi really is. They break away, foreheads pressed together and wide grins on their faces. Jimin giggles into the space between them, the events of the last few minutes catching up to him. His dick is still painfully hard in his panties and there’s a pleasant heat spreading across his skin, but there’s no lying about how much he liked being in charge for once. It’s a rare occasion, and even this time Yoongi was still calling out orders, but Jimin liked the thrill of being wholly in charge of his lover’s pleasure. He’d have liked it a whole lot more, however, if said lover wasn't still handcuffed to the chair. Jimin wiggles uncomfortably on Yoongi’s lap. “I need you, so fucking bad, I might kill Tae to get those keys, I swear to god…” Yoongi hushes him, kissing the pout of his lips. “Go, be quick. I’ll be waiting.”

____________ 10 Months Ago Jimin is nervous. So nervous that he’s certain he’s going to throw up and that the pacing he’s currently doing across the landing is going to burn a hole through the floorboards. He can hear the steady hum of chatter wafting up from below him as people go about finding a seat in the garden. But he can’t hear Yoongi. He has spent the last ten minutes, craning his ears desperately; in search of just the faintest rasp of Yoongi’s voice that would help settled his bubbling nerves. He secretly stole glances out the window of his old bedroom, scanning the stupid amount of guests littering their lawn, hoping just to see the faintest sight of Yoongi so he can take a calming breath. Because if there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to calm Jimin down whilst he’s internally freaking out – it’s his fiancé. Fiancé. Wow, this is the last time Jimin is ever going to call Yoongi his fiancé. This is the last time they’re going to be two separate halves of a whole. Today is the day that the two of them start their chapter two – they start their own family. Today is the start of the rest of their lives. And that knowledge is only now dawning heavily on Jimin. It’s like a weight, double what he can handle, is resting on his weak shoulders and practically smothering him. He’s not sure whether it’s just because he’s nervous, or whether he hasn’t taken into full account the gravity of what he’s getting himself into – but for some reason, he’s not sure whether he can do this…

“How’s my Persephone doing?” The every chipper voice of his mother asks, appearing from her own bedroom where she had been adding last minute touches to her hair. She looks beautiful, silky, silver dress hugging her tight frame, cut off just below the knee to show off her golden legs. The neck is high, resting just below her chin and her soft black locks have been pulled back into a braided bun that took 1 hour of struggling, 30 minutes of crying and then 20 minutes of Taehyung fixing it, for it took look this good. It doesn’t really look like his mother, she looks far too mature. The dress itself something designer that Yerin picked out for her, and her heels are so high that she’s tottering around like a newborn deer. Jimin thinks that she doesn’t really pull off the composure of a sophisticated woman, but damn, does she look beautiful in her dress. There’s a small, shortly clipped red rose in her silver polished fingers, and she totters over to Jimin, pulling him closer by the lapel of his black tuxedo so she can pin the rose there. “You look so handsome, Chick.” She beams, fiddling with the pin against the rose’s stem. Jimin is chewing on his fingernails, a habit he’s never had before but can understand why some do it, it’s a semi-decent distraction. There’s a crease in his brow, a stone in his stomach the size of a soccer ball and all of sudden everything is just far too much for him to handle. “Oh God.” He moans, wrapping his arms around himself. “What am I doing?” His voice is airy and raspy, throat closing up in a dryness superior to that of the Sahara. Jisu’s hands still in his lapel, sending him what Jimin is sure is the most reassuring look she can muster, and yet Jimin can’t find it in himself to look her in the eye. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’” She asks gently, slipping her hands from his now securely fastened rose to cup his wobbling jaw. Jimin’s pulling fast breaths through his nose, jaw clenched so hard it’s making him dizzy. Jisu rubs her thumbs soothingly into the apples of his cheeks, and forces his face up to look at her. “Okay, you need to take three deep breaths for me and tell me what’s wrong.” Jimin wraps his shaking hands around his mother’s thin wrists, squeezing tightly to ground himself. He takes three deep breaths of air, gulping them down like a man starved, but it does little to calm the bubbling panic rising in the back of his throat. “Eomma, what am I doing?” Jisu is smiling sweetly and softly, and the look is doing nothing but churning his overwhelming nerves and fueling his rising panic. “You’re getting married, sweetie.” She explains slowly and softly. God, that’s really not what he needs to hear. He needs to have his mother wrap him up in one of her signature bone crushing hugs and tell him that he’s marrying the biggest mafia boss in the entirety of South Korea and entering a terrifying world – but he’ll be okay. Because right now, he feels nothing but okay. What the hell is he doing? Can he really spend the rest of his life with Yoongi just through love? Can he really turn blind eyes to all the frightening things the man has and will commit? If Jimin were asked this yesterday, he would have wholeheartedly said ‘yes’, not even sparing a second to think about it. Shit, he’d probably have said yes all but 15 minutes ago. Now, now he’s really not so sure. He loves Yoongi; boy does he love that man so emphatically. But does he really know what he’s getting himself into by loving him? They said they would figure it all out together, hand in hand. But what if Jimin wakes up one day to find himself alone and lost?

Dread is now creeping around him, suffocating his chest along with his nerves and panic and there’s nothing his mother can do about it. There are no words she can say to calm him down, to help him realise he’s being stupid – because she will forever remain blissfully unaware of the type of person Jimin has chosen to marry. “I-I’m getting married.” Jimin repeats her words but they’re not settling in his brain. “To, to Yoongi?” He half asks the question, half states it. He’s wondering whether he’s going to wake up in his old tattered apartment with Yoongi lying next to him and find this all to be a dream. His mother giggles; her voice like wind chimes and it quells the bubbling panic just a little. “I should hope so, else things could get a little complicated.” She winks. “With him waiting downstairs for you and all.” Jimin’s eyes widen. “He’s waiting for me?” His voice is a whisper, but the thought that Yoongi is waiting for him settles his ridiculous nerves. He’s always been more confident with Yoongi’s presence around. He used to be so meek and timid, characteristics changed by years of having Yoongi showering him with love. That’s what this all boils down to at the end of the day after all, right? That Jimin loves Yoongi and Yoongi loves Jimin. He takes in another deep breath, repeating that over and over again like a mantra in his mind and it does the trick at calming his overreactions. Jisu nods, “They all are, chick.” She reiterates and that sudden break of calm in him is drowned by panic once more and he groans, knees giving out from under him. He falls with a heavy thunk to his knees, throat constricting and breath faltering. “Jiminie…” Jisu begins, crouching down in front of her son and placing a reassuring hand on his back. “What’s wrong?” “I feel like my stomach’s gonna fall out my ass.” Jimin gasps, head so dizzy and fingers trembling as they grip into his black slacks, wrinkling them as he does. Jisu lets a little chuckle past her lips. “Chick, please.” She teases, hand rubbing in soothing circles on his back. “I don’t know anything about Yoongi, not really.” Jimin mutters, hands coming up to cover his face. “Not in the way married couples do. We’ve barely scratched the surface of our relationship and now I’m dressed smart and ready to go stomping off down the aisle to give my life to him?” “If this is your way of trying to say you’re not ready, then I think I might just smack you over the head.” Jisu titters. “You two have practically been married for the longest time, this is just making things official, Chick.” “I’m scared.” Jimin whispers heart practically stopping over the words as soon as he feels them on his tongue. “Really, really scared.” He adds, because he needs his mother to know, if not the whole truth, part of it, because his mother has always been his everything. He snaps his eyes up to meet her gaze when he finds no response from her. But her eyes are trained on the floor, as if deep in thought and her hand has stopped moving on his back. Jisu always knows what to say, his mother has advice for everything, and the fact that she’s so silent has his brain spinning in pure white-hot panic. She doesn’t have any words of reassurance for him, no way she can chip in her 2 cents and it be valid and relatable, because Jisu is just as much out of her depth with the whole marriage concept as he is.

There’s a harsh clearing of a throat that has both their eyes snapping over to the sound, like animals caught in the headlights. “Sorry to interrupt. But might I have a moment alone with my future son-in law, Jisu-ssi?” Yerin asks, poised at the top of the stairs with one hand still perched on the banister. Jisu nods. “Sure, I’ll- I’ll wait down stairs.” She explains before turning back to Jimin and engulfing him in a hug. The very hug that Jimin’s been craving so desperately, but for some reason it’s just not having its desired effect this time. “I’m sorry Chick, but for what it’s worth. I know you, and I know you’re more than capable to handle whatever the hell this new part of your life throws at you.” She whispers into his ear before pulling away. She squeezes the tops of his arms, eyes scanning over his face one last time before she pushes herself to her feet. “I’ll be right down stairs, okay?” Jimin manages a little nod before he’s watching her leave him alone on the floor. She looks back more than a few times, a sad look pulled across her face that reminds Jimin of a kicked puppy, and now there’s guilt mixed in with his panic. Yerin’s shiny black heels click across the wooden flooring until she’s standing right in front of him – and god, if that’s not an intimidating sight. She’s really outdone herself in her clothing choice today, dressed in a long flowing cream gown that cuts off around her ankles and cinched in tight around her slim waist. It’s cut low across her chest, but the sleeves are long, stopping at her dainty silver chain adorned wrists. Her short chopped black hair is pulled behind her ears and pinned with elegant looking silver clasps that glisten under the old lights of the house. She looks so regal, so expensive and so completely out of place in the old homely house that it twists more nerves in Jimin’s stomach. With every agonizing passing second, he’s beginning to convince himself that he doesn’t belong in Yoongi’s world – and Yoongi doesn’t deserve such a coward. But then Yerin’s lips are upturning ever so slightly into what Jimin can only think is a smile and it’s like ice water has been dumped on his head and rebooted his system. Yerin never smiles, she smirks every now and then in disgust, but a smile? That’s unheard of. It’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. She holds her boney hands out for him and Jimin dazedly slips his own in hers, eyes blinking mechanically at her. She pulls him up with a strength that he really wasn’t expecting, smooth face wrinkled ever so slightly to cater for her small smile. “There now, you’ll get your suit wrinkled if you sit like that.” She explains in an even voice. “You nervous?” “I’m scared.” Jimin repeats once more, voice so small the words come out like a squeak. Yerin nods once, sharp and steady. “Good.” She responds and Jimin finds his eyes blowing wide. “I would be worried if you weren’t. Scared is good, scared is smart.” She explains somewhat cryptically. Jimin’s eyebrows are furrowed again tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “Wh-“ “I was so scared the day I married Daejung that I ended up smashing a glass with my bare hands and cutting them six ways to Sunday.” She explains, pulling her left hand out of Jimin’s hold to and pointing her thumb at a small, barely there scar to prove her point. Not that Jimin needs proof to believe that, not with the way she just yanked Jimin to his feet like he weighed nothing, and not after being on the receiving end of her anger on more than one occasion. “But do you know what calmed me down?” Jimin shakes his head. “Min Euna.”

“Yoongi’s grandmother?” Yerin nods sharply once again. “I’m going to tell you the exact same thing that she told me.” She explains hands wrapping tightly around Jimin and the squeeze levels Jimin’s fogged over brain. “On this day, you will feel fear for the last time, alone.” Yerin begins. “For when you take my son’s hand and heart as your own, you are in turn giving him all of your fear, your worry, your nervous and your pain for him to shoulder with you. You have shown him the greatest trust in agreeing to all that Yoongi is, light and dark, and in return he will love and protect you for the rest of your days. You are our family now, Jimin. We protect family; we love family, especially son-in-laws as special as you and as wonderfully kind and caring as you. Who looked a dark man in the eye and loved him for who he is, not what he does. So feel fear and worry as you walk down the aisle, but know that the moment you say ‘I do’, you will never feel like that alone again.” Jimin gasps, the harsh intake of air feeling like an electric shock through his system as he realises he’s been holding his breath. “Shit.” He breathes airily, hands squeezing onto Yerin for dear life. “Thank you, for marrying my son.” Yerin adds. Jimin’s crying, there are tears collecting in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks and he couldn’t give two shits as to how it’s going to affect his make-up. “Thank you, for raising such an amazing man.” Jimin mumbles and he finally slips his hands out of Yerin’s to wipe the ugly tears from his face. He can do this. Of course he can do this. Because deep down, through all the worry and panic and nerves, all Jimin wants to do is love Yoongi for as long as he’s allowed too. And with that, he really can do anything. Yerin give him a tissue in order to clean up his smudged face and Jimin dabs away the last of his tears. He takes two steadying breaths, slaps his cheeks and gives a harsh nod. “Okay, I’m ready.” Yerin scoffs, all momentary softness snapped out of her. “Of course you are. You’re going to be a Min, Min’s are always ready.” Jimin holds out his arm for Yerin to take and she quickly placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. “Then, let's go make me a Min.” Jimin replies before guiding them both downstairs.

____________ There are many things in this life that has happened, that Jimin knows he will never forget. The day he got accepted to his university of choice, all the way in Seoul for example. That day his mother bought all the ingredients for a cake and the two of them baked something completely inedible but laughed the whole way through the process. But as the pretty tinkling of piano music fills the backyard, Jimin thinks this is the one memory that he wants to remember every time he closes his eyes. There are people sat in pretty white chairs, tied with crimson sashes all looking at him with soft gazed, but Jimin’s not returning their looks. The makeshift isle in his childhood back garden has been scattered with blood red rose petals, leading all the way to a large white, wooden arch, decorated with golden fairy lights and even more red roses. But Jimin doesn’t care about that. It’s beautiful, that’s for sure. Yerin’s done an amazing job with the limited information they had given her to work with – but what he’s forever going to remember is the way Yoongi is looking at him.

He looks so handsome, in his black slacks and black waistcoat with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top. Jimin would usually chastise the man for forgoing a tie, but this isn’t work – this isn’t professional, this is something for them. His jacket is black with a red floral print over it, matching the red roses that have flooded the garden around them. There’s a gummy smile on his face, a pink tint to his cheeks and his eyes are so large and glassy Jimin thinks he could be crying. But in Yoongi’s deep dark eyes all Jimin can see is pure unwavering adoration, awe and love and it’s the last calming effect his nervous body needed. “You’ve got this.” Jisu whispers into his ear, arm linked with his. Jimin is smiling, face split into the biggest grin he can muster, eyes crinkling into crescents as he does. “Yeah, yeah I do.” He replies. Yoongi watches him as he makes his way down the short isle, their gazes locked as if nothing else in the world matters. He can vaguely see Seokjin, Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, a little way to the right of Yoongi, faces split into supportive grins of their own. How in the world Jimin had managed to wind himself into such a state earlier is beyond him – because there is nothing but happiness, joy and love echoing through his whole body now. He may have never thought he needed to get married, but now, in this moment, he knows that all he ever needed was to find Yoongi to change that mindset. As they stand within arms reach of each other, Jisu slips her arm out of Jimin’s hold in order to take up his hand. “Hades,” She begins eyes sharply pinning Yoongi to where he stands. Her voice is just loud enough for the close proximity to hear and it has Jimin biting back a chuckle. “I entrust you with the most important thing in my life, okay?” She grabs up a slightly startled Yoongi’s hand and places it on top of Jimin’s. Yoongi coughs, face an even deeper red than before and this time Jimin can see it has Jisu biting back a chuckle. “And I’ll never betray that trust.” He promises with such vigor and confidence it has Jimin melting at the seams. Jisu nods, happy at the validity in the man’s words before she’s tottering like Bambi over to her seat. Jimin faintly hopes that one of his best men helped her over to her seat, but then Yoongi is squeezing his hand and his mind is consumed with all things Yoongi again. “Silver.” Yoongi mutters. Jimin cocks his head to the side. “Silver?” He asks. Yoongi reaches out his spare hand, fingers lightly pushing back a few escaped strands of Jimin’s hair. “You’re hair, it’s silver.” He elaborates and it has Jimin flushing violently. Taehyung had manhandled him last night and dyed his hair without even asking for Jimin’s consent. When Jimin asked why, Taehyung replied with something about promising Yoongi the best wedding present in the world and Jimin thought it best not to delve any deeper. It matches his tuxedo, his jacket black with silver mandala print, and a black shirt with a silver tie. Taehyung had parted his hair, gelled half of it back behind his ear and left the other side hanging half over his forehead. He looks good, he feels good, but more importantly he compliments Yoongi’s red so well that it has him feeling so complete. “D-do you like it?” Jimin stutters. “I love it, Sunshine.” Yoongi replies, and Jimin can see him lean in for a kiss only to stop himself. “You’re welcome.” Taehyung whispers not so quietly from beside them. But Yoongi is so caught up

in Jimin and Jimin so caught up in Yoongi that neither of them spares the time to glare at him. In fact, the two stare goo-goo eyed at each other throughout the whole ceremony, getting nudged by one of their best men to answer when appropriate, because in this moment the outside world doesn’t matter. Because right now, all there there is, is the two of them, this is their moment their own perfect start to their happily ever after. Jimin is feeling so many emotions right now, that he’s surprised he’s keeping himself together. Just when he feels like he’s going to burst into tears, he feels Yoongi’s thumb rubbing gently into the back of his hand soothing him and grounding him. Jimin feels proud that he’s managed to keep his cocktail of happy emotions at bay, but then Namjoon pulls out a small red velvet case and hands it to Yoongi. It’s clearly their wedding rings; the ones his mother secretly went about obtaining and kept hush hush about, despite the woman’s inability to keep a secret. Yoongi opens the box and Jimin’s breath catches in his throat and he just knows that this, this is the moment his composure is going to break. The wedding rings are silver, exquisitely polished and beautifully modest. There are no elaborate diamonds or gems on them, no extra metals of gold or like making intricate designs along the band. They’re perfectly simple, much like how the couple planned their wedding, how they strive to live their lives and how they love each other. There are tears pricking at Jimin’s eyes now, fingers gingerly reaching out to pick up the bands, and as he does the sunlight catches on a small engravings on the inside. ‘The Sun.’ ‘The Moon.’ Jimin sniffles back sobs that are trying their hardest to break free from his mouth. He’ll admit defeat to tears, but he wont wail like a baby in front of their friends and family. With an; ‘I do’, Jimin’s new most prized possession is slipped onto his wedding finger by Yoongi’s fingers. There are tears streaming down his face, but a smile pulled so wide that it’s straining his cheeks – but Jimin really doesn’t care. Not even when he nearly drops Yoongi’s ring trying to slip it onto his finger – not even when he raises Yoongi’s newly ringed finger to kiss it and ends up staining his hand in tears. Jimin is the happiest he’s ever been in his entire life. All those stories about the wedding day being the happiest day of your life are all true. Because Jimin just got to proclaim how much he loves Yoongi in front of their friends and family. He got to show the world that this amazing man is all his for the rest of time and gets the honor of being loved in return. As the priest announces them officially married, Jimin thinks there’s nothing in the world that will ever ruin this blissfully wonderful moment. Their kiss is brief and chaste, nothing like the ones they’re so used to sharing, but Jimin is still utterly awed by the amount of love and emotion Yoongi feeds to him. Jimin clutches tightly at the lapels of his jacked, not caring if they get wrinkled, and gives Yoongi as good as he gets – if not more. “20000 won from each of you by the end of the night, please and thank you.“ Taehyung announces through a shit-eating grin whilst the rest of the guests cheer and clap through Yoongi and Jimin’s first kiss as husband and husband. Yoongi shoots him a dirty side eye once they’ve broken away. “Did you take bets on how long it

would take for my husband to cry?” Fuck, Jimin feels his heart skip three beats at that wonderful title. He gets to be Yoongi’s husband; and no one else does. Jimin doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being called that. Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Of course.” He clarifies. Jimin isn’t even really surprised, he’s too busy dabbing away the freshly falling tears, rings back in their little box so that he doesn’t have to detangle from Yoongi’s hold. Yoongi sighs, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “I’ll let it slide, just this once.” Seokjin is slightly gaping at him. “Is this the day in which we can ask you a favour and you’ll grant it regardless of what it is? Like in the Godfather?” Hoseok chuckles, smacking Seokjin on the arm. “That’s the day of his daughter’s wedding.” Jimin squeaks. “You got a long way to wait for that then.” “I’m forgiving Tae just this once, because he gave me the best wedding present out of all of you.” Yoongi supplies, pulling Jimin closer to him by his waist and planting another quick kiss to Jimin’s lips. “You look so fucking sexy with silver hair.”

____________ "Husband~ Husband~ Husband~” Jimin chants over and over again as he drapes himself all over Yoongi, mouth pressing kisses into his cheek and giggling like a child as he does. The sun is setting on the wedding ceremony and the night is blanketing the sky for their reception party. Everyone has pushed the chairs to either side of the garden, Yerin has workers bring out portable wooden decking to make a dance floor area and the caterers were currently setting up the buffet and the open bar inside. The party hasn’t even started yet and Jimin is slightly tipsy. “Sunshine.” Yoongi coos arm tight around Jimin’s waist as he pulls them to sit at the only table set up in the back garden – reserved for the happy couple. “Maybe we should get you some water?” Jimin giggles, stumbling over his own feet, hands flying out to brace his fall, but smacking Yoongi in the nose in the process. Yoongi, being the incredible athlete he is, manages to prevent Jimin from falling flat on his face, hissing only slightly at the sting of Jimin’s hand to his nose. Okay, so maybe Jimin is a little more than ‘slightly’ tipsy. “Come on now, Sunshine.” Yoongi chuckles, pulling Jimin to stand upright and quickly getting him in a chair. “Joon!” He calls across the garden. “Can we get some water?” “Jesus, Jiminie, we looked away for two seconds and you’re already this waisted? You’re not going to remember anything about this evening.” Seokjin sighs, already holding out a glass of water for him. “That’s why we gotta sober him up, else he’ll never be able to get on the plane to Jeju in the morning.” Yoongi explains, taking the glass from Yoongi’s hands and placing it gently to Jimin’s lips. “Drink for me, Sunshine.”

Jimin smiles a little foggily. “I’ll do anything for my husband.” He responds before keenly sipping down the glass of water. “What did you even drink, huh?” Yoongi asks and there’s nothing but affection in his voice. Seokjin scoffs. “You didn’t watch what he drank?” “I saw Jisu drowning him in a bottle of tequila.” Namjoon explains, bringing another glass water to the table. He shoots Seokjin a small warm smile before pushing the glass in Jimin’s direction. Jimin swallows down the gulpful he has before smiling again. “Jinnie-hyung and Joonie-hyung are cute together.” He announces with a firm nod of his head that makes him dizzy. There’s a blush painting both his hyungs faces, but it’s Seokjin that stutters out an; “We really need to talk about your alcohol tolerance.” “Holy shit, you just missed Jisu trying to shove a whole chicken leg in her mouth.” Taehyung chuckles bounding over to join them with Hoseok in toe. Jimin likes the suits that they picked out, their simple black tuxedo affairs with white shirts and shiny black shoes, but Taehyung and Seokjin have a lighter almost pink red colour to their bow ties, whilst Namjoon and Hoseok’s are scarlet red. Their roses match the colour of their ties, and all of them had died their hair black – a request made by Yerin – but somehow Jimin’s getting away with silver locks. Yerin must have a massive soft spot for him. Like mother like son Jimin muses. “Yeah, that’ll be because whatever tequila Jimin didn’t finish, Jisu polished off.” Namjoon chuckles. “So about half a bottle each.” “Someone needs to keep an eye on her.” Yoongi comments, still feeding Jimin sips of water here and there. “I don’t understand where she got the ludicrous idea to drink tequila? Her alcohol intake is worse than Jimin’s.” Taehyung shrugs, a smug grin pulled across his face. “Must be a Park thing.” Jimin puffs up his chest, the sappiest grin still plastered across his face as he proclaims. ”I’m a Min now, Tae Tae!” He sounds like a toddler that’s just done something ‘grown up’ and is boasting about it. Taehyung snorts. “Still doesn’t mean you can handle your drink, Chimithy.” Jimin pouts, deflating onto Yoongi and propping his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Eomma’s just feeling guilty, that’s all.” He explains, eyes watching the way in which Yoongi’s beautifully long lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks. Yoongi tilts his head down to look at Jimin then, eyes slightly narrowed. “What do you mean?” “Can I get everyone’s attention please?” Yerin calls from under the white arch. Her voice echoes around the back garden and Jimin strains his eyes to see that she’s talking into a microphone. How the hell she managed to get a full sound system up and running in this little run down house is beyond Jimin. But he learnt long ago, not to put anything past Min Yerin. “We’ll start giving speeches and toasts in roughly 5 minutes, please make sure you have a Champagne glass ready…” She continues, but her voice rings around in Jimin’s head and he has a hard time concentrating on what she’s saying. Was his hearing always this bad? It feels like there’s cotton wool stuffed in his ears and his brain.

“I’ll deal with Jisu, at least sober Jiminie up enough to cut the cake and do your first dance.” Seokjin explains before he’s slipping away to locate the other drunk Park. But wait, Jimin’s not a Park anymore; he’s a Min. He’s Yoongi’s Min. Jimin is smiling again, all worry about the fact his head is filled with cotton beyond him and his pushing kisses into the nape of Yoongi’s neck. “My husband.” He practically purrs. Yoongi chuckles, hand slipping from the small of his back to wrap around his waist and pull him tighter. “Yes, your husband.” “And I’m your husband.” “Yes, Sunshine, you are.” “I wanna eat fried chicken.” Jimin huffs, silver bangs flopping off his forehead as he does. Hoseok is snickering not so subtly from in front of them, “I’ll get you something to eat Mochi.” He offers. Jimin giggles. “Hobi-hyung is my favorite hyung!” “And more water.” Namjoon adds. “Mochi’s clearly delusional.”

____________

Jimin really enjoyed all the speeches. Not that he could tell you all the details from theme, but he does remember laughing far too loudly and far too hard for them not to be good. He remembers there being 5 speeches, one from Namjoon and Hoseok, one from Taehyung and Seokjin, one from Yoongi’s parents and one from his mother. His mother’s speech is the only one his drunken addled body allows him to remember. The other four speeches he remembers vague snippets from. There was a moment in Seokjin and Taehyung’s speech where they passed around Jimin and Yoongi’s baby pictures. That had Jimin crying like a mad man from how cute Yoongi looked, his little face pulled into a pout that made him look so much like a turtle. “My turtle husband.” He had proclaimed, waving the picture in the air like he’d just won the grand prize in a lottery. Namjoon and Hoseok’s speech consisted mainly of recalling how whipped Yoongi is for Jimin. To which Yoongi had shrugged, not even ashamed by it, arm curling tighter around his new husband. “Who isn’t whipped for my Sunshine though?” He had commented, the crowd started cooing and Jimin attacked his lips in a kiss far too heated for the company they were in. Min Yerin and Daejung spent 30 seconds congratulating the couple before turning the speech into a business thing. Thanking everyone for coming to support the Min family and for their continued support in the future. Jimin remembers Yoongi glaring daggers at his parents and Jimin really didn’t like the look on his husband. Not today anyway. So he spent the rest of the time pressing kisses into his skin and giggling whenever Yoongi spared a moment from glowering to kiss him back. Park Jisu spent ten minutes trying to clamber over to the microphone on her ridiculously high heels

before giving up and taking them off. She flung them at Seokjin; not looking where she was aiming, and the heel nearly clipped the side of the man’s face. Thankfully, Namjoon grabbed his elbow and pulled Seokjin out of the way in time. She then spent five minutes crying over the fact her son was never going to come home again. Which, of course, resulted in Jimin crying and no amount of calming words from Yoongi could stop him. “Jisu-ssi, if you’re just going to cry, maybe it’s best you didn’t give a speech?” Min Yerin supplies in a clipped voice, clearly done to death over Jimin and his mother’s drunken antics. It’s no secret amongst the wedding guests that the mother and son are drunk far to early into the evening's festivities. Jisu huffs, actually stomping her foot like she’s 5 rather than 38. “I can do this, give me a minute.” She grumbles into the microphone before pulling a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her dress. Jimin’s face is cupped in Yoongi’s hands as his husband’s thumbs wipe away his tears. “I’m not a Park anymore.” Jimin hiccups. Yoongi smiles softly, like he’s looking at baby kittens “But you’re a Min now.” Jimin sniffles. “Y-yeah, I am.” “Jiminie! You ready!” Jisu bellows so loudly that the microphone’s feedback echoes around the back garden and causes everyone to flinch and moan. Jimin turns in his seat, back facing Yoongi and the elder pulls him flush against his chest, arms looping around under Jimin’s arms and chin propped on his shoulder. Jimin nods skin tingling at Yoongi’s hot breath on the skin of his neck. Jisu takes a steading breath before locking eyes with her son. “I’m not very good at speech making. It’s probably one of the reasons I like books so much, because they can do the talking for me. I didn’t want to say anything witty, or reminiscent because I know that others will cover that, and I’m far more unique than to follow the crowd.” There’s a little chuckle through the guests and Jimin is smiling supportively at his mother. “So I really thought hard about what I wanted to tell you. It’s hard for me to think of advice when it comes to marriage, not having been married myself.” She sighs. “But I wanted to leave you with something important, something that’ll keep you going, my sweet Chick, all the way in the Underworld.” She smirks. “I remember reading this poem to some university students I had taught a few months back. And I remember seeing it, and being reminded of you, my only child, my only family, my whole world and how you’ve gone off to be a better person than I could ever have been, and I’m so incredibly proud of you for that.” She chokes on a sob and Taehyung run’s up to her with tissues already in hand. She thanks him, dabbing at her already ruined makeup before taking another deep breath. “These past 23 years and 9 months, you have been my everything, and I yours. Two Parks against the world. But then you opened up that world to Yoongi, and I have to admit I don’t really care for him.” “Yah!” Yoongi shouts and their company laughs. Jisu is shaking her head, big smile on her wet face. “It’s true, even now we don't see eye to eye. But

I know that Jimin is happy, so there’s nothing I can really fault you for, Hades, just know I’m being a petty mother-in-law.” “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Yoongi remarks and Jimin nuzzles himself closer to him, turning his head ever so slightly to place a kiss to Yoongi’s temple. “Anyway,” Jisu continues. “I wanted to give you a little parting gift, words to keep close to your heart that you can recite to yourself when you’re missing me or you’re missing your home. Words to remind you, Min Yoongi, to comfort my baby and make sure he’s not feeling lonely whilst you’re off gallivanting around Korea. Words to remind you, sweet Jiminie, that no matter how far away you are, I’ll always be here in Soojung Halmoni's house, cheering you on.” Jimin can feel tears slipping down his cheeks again, it’s been a while since Jimin last thought of Soojung Halmeoni. She would have scolded him for forgetting about her, pinched his mochi cheeks till they were red raw and clipped him over the back of the head. But then she would have smiled, and hugged him as tightly as she could and tell him how proud she is of him. Jimin doesn’t remember much of Park Soojung, but every memory he has is nothing but fond. He wishes she could have been here today, to see her house so full of people, and love and happiness. Jisu swallows down more tears and flattens out the paper on her knee. “Okay, so let me read this poem and then move on, because this should be a party and not a blubbering fest.” She coughs twice before slipping her eyes away from Jimin and down to the paper. “I tweaked it a bit.” She adds, almost like she’s embarrassed before she starts. “Be to him, Persephone, All the things I might not be: Take his head upon your knee. He that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, He that had no need of me, Is a little lonely child. Lost in hell, - Persephone, Take his head upon your knee: Say to him, ‘My dear, my dear, it is not so dreadful here.’” Jimin is slipping out of Yoongi’s hold before she’s even finished, flying across the garden to engulf his mother in the tightest of hugs once she finishes the last words of the poem. “Love you, chick.” Jisu mutters into his ear whilst their audience claps and drinks to her wonderful words. “I’m sorry I couldn't be more helpful earlier.” Jimin shakes his head, burying his face into his mother’s shoulder. She smells like the sun, like sunflowers and honey and all things yellow and sweet. She smells like home. “You did great.”

_____________ Jimin is feeling just a little steadier on his feet, though his head is still considerably dizzy. It’s a good kind of dizzy, the kind that makes him feel like he’s floating rather than walking and everything in his vision has a slight haze too it. Yoongi and the others have given up trying to sober him up and have just resigned themselves to the fact Jimin, and his mother, are going to be drunken messes for the rest of the night. Which, Jimin thinks would be perfectly fine if they were going to be spending the rest of the night eating and talking and dancing to stupid upbeat club songs that Jimin recognises the tune to, but not the name of. But there’s a big hurdle that they’ve gotta get through first before Jimin can just unwind and cling to his new husband like a koala for the rest of the night. Their first dance.

Jimin likes dancing, he’s good at dancing, it was his hobby and passion for so long that really, Jimin should be able to do this in his sleep. But usually, Jimin either dances by himself whilst no one is watching, or with a partner just as capable of dancing as himself. Yoongi hates dancing. He maybe indulges in Jimin’s whines once in a blue moon when the two are at charity balls and Jimin is bored to death from just sitting at the edge of the dance floor. But usually, Jimin’s the one to lead Yoongi around in the rare dance they do get to share together. But right now, Jimin’s really not in the right mindset for this. Yoongi leads Jimin to the center of the makeshift dance floor, pulling him tight against his chest and sends a reassuring smile at Jimin. “You ready?” He asks. Jimin blinks, processing words a little slower than usual. “I-I don’t really know?” He replies. “I don’t think I’m very coordinated right now, we might fall over…” Yoongi chuckles. “I won’t let you fall.” Jimin twists his face, clearly not believing his words. “One time, you tripped over your own feet then mine all within 4 beats of the song.” Yoongi just smiles and pulls Jimin’s hand to rest on his shoulder. “I have a secret to tell you.” He explains intertwining Jimin’s right hand with his left and holding them both close to his chest. “I got you a wedding present.” “I thought we weren’t doing wedding presents…” Jimin stutters. Yoongi slips his right hand down to Jimin’s waist. “I couldn’t help myself.” He explains before the deep notes of a piano fill the speakers in the garden, announcing the start of the song. Yoongi moves them then, a little stiff and little robotic, but he moves them in perfect time with the beat. Jimin’s feet instantly move in a waltz sequence, dance so ingrained into him that he can clearly even do it whilst he’s drunk. But Yoongi follows the waltz pattern easily; no wait scratch that, Yoongi leads them. His husband with two left feet that harbors the biggest of grudges if Jimin forces him to dance – is leading them in an awkward waltz and neither of them are falling. “How- “ Jimin begins. Yoongi smirks. “I took dance lessons.” Jimin is blushing. “For me?” Yoongi kisses the tip of his nose. “For you.” He clarifies before twirling them in a semi-stiff circle and Jimin finds himself giggling. The piano is accompanied by a deep male singer soon after, the song is somewhat familiar but Jimin wouldn’t be able to name the singer or the track’s tittle. “Do you know it?” Yoongi asks, clearly asking about his song choice and Jimin feels guilty for shaking his head. “I didn’t think you would.” He explains before twirling them again. Jimin is just about to ask him what it is, when he hears a low rhythmic mumble from his husband’s mouth that sounds oddly like whispered singing. Which is ridiculous, because if there’s one thing besides dancing that Yoongi is adamant against doing – it’s singing. But clearly, Jimin can be wrong about his husband twice in the space of a few seconds.

“Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles and falls brought me here.” He sings softly and Jimin can feel tears prickling in his eyes again. “And where was I before the day, that I first saw your lovely face, now I see it everyday.” Yoongi adds, releasing Jimin from their hold to spin him gently on his feet. He pulls Jimin back flush against him, before picking up their dance as if they never stopped and Jimin has never been so proud and so ridiculously in love before in all his life. “I am, the luckiest.” He finishes the lyrics of the first verse, whispered directly into Jimin’s ear and it sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. “This song- “ Jimin mumbles. “It’s the song that was playing the first time I saw you.” Yoongi elaborates. “In the coffee shop?” “As you laughed along to no doubt a terrible joke Taehyung shot your way.” Jimin sniffles, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. “With every passing second, I love you more than the last.” Yoongi drops their dance posture to loop his arms around Jimin’s back, lips brushing kisses into the top of his head. “Me too, Sunshine. Me too.”

____________ The rest of the night passes by Jimin in what can only be described as a blur of faces congratulating him and Taehyung slipping him more drinks. He’s on cloud nine, body constantly moving along with the music, smile plastered across his face and voice louder than needs be. There are only brief instances in which he slips his hand out of Yoongi’s, and it’s only so he can dance a little more than just stepping from foot to foot like his lover does. Taehyung is glued to his hip also, voice equally as loud as Jimin’s and body moving like an electrified octopus that has Jimin in stitches. “Yoonie! Yoonie! Look! Look!” Jimin bellows, turning to his husband and pointing his thumb in the direction of Taehyung, who’s currently trying to do the worm, but looks more like a fish out of water. “Taehyung, do you have no fear whatsoever?” Yoongi sighs, pulling Jimin into his side and planting a kiss to his temple. Jimin has never gotten so many kisses in one night in all his life and he’s utterly living for them. The brush of his husband’s lips across his skin practically like his source of energy and life. Taehyung pulls himself to his feet, dusting off his considerably battered tuxedo with a shit eating grin on his face. “N-ope!” He supplies, popping the ‘P’ before pulling Jimin out of his hold to dance with him more.

____________ “I really think it’d be for the best if you stop calling me Yoongi and making kisses faces at me,

Mochi.” Yoongi supplies, at least, Jimin thinks it’s Yoongi. Jimin had turned to talk to one of their guests that caught his attention for all but two seconds, and when he had spun back to his husband, he found Yoongi was wearing a black suit and scarlet red tie rather than his black and red floral affair. Jimin just giggles, he’s drunk – probably just seeing things. He outstretches his hands in a grabby like motion. “Yoonie! I want cuddles.” Yoongi, with his heart shaped smile that Jimin doesn’t remember him having, chuckles and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Do you just want cuddles, Mochi?” Jimin shakes his head, feet coming to a stand still as beams up at his new husband. “I want you to kiss me.” There’s a bright light blinding Jimin and he blinks harshly. “What else do you want me to do to you?” Jimin thinks hard about it, face pulled into a deep pout for all of two seconds. Then his smile is splitting his face once more, eyes crinkling into happy crescents and he says. “I want you to fuck me so hard and so good, that I can’t even remember my own name.” “Shit.” Yoongi chuckles, but his laugh sounds too loud and too booming to belong to his Yoongi. “Mochi, I know this can never see the light of day, because Yoongi-hyung will kill me, but just so you know, I have the best blackmail material on you now.” “Why would you need blackmail material on me? You’re my husband!” Jimin bellows, flinging himself at Yoongi’s neck – but this Yoongi doesn’t smell like sandalwood and home. He smells like pine and musk. Hoseok smells like pine and musk too, maybe he leant Yoongi some aftershave. “Come on Mochi, let's sit you down for a bit…”

____________ “Tae Tae! Where are we going?” Jimin whines, his head is spinning a little more than it should be and it’s not in the nice way either. It’s like he’s been sat on a merry-go-round for a whole week and can no longer focus on anything in front of him. His legs and arms feel like jelly, his mouth is really dry and he wants nothing more than to curl up in Yoongi’s arms and sleep for the next melena. But Yoongi’s not here, Taehyung had dragged him away from his newly wedded husband and Jimin can’t even remember why. “Y-you’ll see!” Taehyung hiccups on his words, maybe he’s drunk too? Is it a good idea for two drunken idiots to be wondering around unsupervised? Probably not, but Jimin’s not going to do anything about it, and he doubts Taehyung will either. The scenery of his childhood home is a little distorted in his vision, everything looks like it’s melting and it reminds Jimin of a Salvador Dali painting. Taehyung has his hand gripped tightly in his own, yanking him in the direction that Jimin thinks is probably the stairs, but he really can’t be sure. He’s just about to complain that he needs to sit down for a bit to find his center of gravity, when Taehyung pulls them to a stop. “Well, well, well, Joonie-hyung.” Taehyung announces like a cop in an old sitcom. “What were you

doing in the cupboard under the stairs looking like a flustered mess?” Namjoon is here? Jimin can’t really see him and he scrunches his eyes into slits like that’ll focus his spinning vision. “N-nothing.” Namjoon replies, his voice higher than usual almost squeaky. Taehyung laughs maniacally like a villain in a cheesy cartoon. “Bullshit.” “Tell no one of this, and I wont tell Yoongi-hyung that you’ve been plying Jimin with more drinks all night.” “You cut me deep, Joonie-hyung, but I’d rather not die at Yoongi’s hands.” Taehyung agrees. Jimin opens his mouth to put in his two-cents when suddenly he’s being yanked into the cupboard under the stairs. “Tae Tae!” Jimin wails. “Everything is spinning.” Taehyung pats his arm reassuringly. “I know, Chim, we’ll drown you in some water in just a bit, I just gotta find something first.” “What are you looking for?” “Yoongles’ keys.” “Yoonie’s keys?” “Yes, sir.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows, he’s swaying where he stands and decides that maybe it’d be for the best if he leans against the wall. But in trying to do so, he trips over thin air and lands with a thump on his ass on the floor. “Tae Tae, I fell.” He wails feeling very much like a toddler still learning how to use their fine motor skills. Taehyung is laughing, hands clutched at his stomach as he does. “Even drunk you’re still a clutz.” Jimin whines. “Tae Tae!” “Alright, alright.” Taehyung sighs. “I found what I was looking for anyway, I’ll take you back to your husband now.” Jimin perks up. “You will?” “Yes, so long as you don’t tell him that I just stole his keys to make my own copy to your apartment.” Taehyung replies, crouching down to help Jimin to his feet. Jimin cocks his head to the side, regretting it immediately as the spinning of the room gains momentum. “Why do you need a copy? I’d give you one if you asked.” “I know, but there’s no fun in that.” Taehyung explains. “No fun?”

“I don’t get to see Yoongi go insane trying to figure out how I got a key.” Jimin thinks Taehyung winks at him, but he’s really struggling to place the features in the correct place on Taehyung’s face. They’re moving around too fast for him to catch up. “That’s mean.” Jimin mumbles. Taehyung shrugs. “Don’t worry about it Chim.” Jimin sighs. “I don't think I can even if I want too, I’m seeing six of you.”

____________ Jimin feels like he’s drunk the entire water supply of their house and he’s feeling more like himself. He’s been sat in the cool night air of the garden, the number of guests dwindling down as the hours get later, and Jimin thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world. Everything about this day has been pretty perfect. But what’s even more perfect is the man he got to share it with. Yoongi is currently on the other side of the garden, two glasses of water in his hand that are clearly meant to be for Jimin, but he’s gotten distracted by Hoseok and Seokjin. Jimin decides then and there that he wants the reception to be over, because he wants this man all to himself for the rest of the night. He wants to feel Yoongi for the first time as his husband, run his lips along his skin, whisper how much he loves him and have Yoongi pleasure him in the way only Yoongi knows how. He throws the empty cup of water he had been drinking from to the floor and stands to his feet. No one looks his way as he beelines for Yoongi, hands reaching out for the man before he even gets there. Like two magnets drawn to each other no matter how far away they are. He spins Yoongi on his heels, his husband’s face awash with so much surprise the two glasses he’s holding go tumbling to the floor. “Sunsh…” He begins, panic in his voice, but it’s cut short by Jimin’s lips crashing against his own. Yoongi is a beat behind in what’s happening, but he’s never been one to deny Jimin anything and soon he’s giving just as good as he’s getting. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, no gentle licks and tender brushes of lips. It’s pure hunger and desire, Jimin moaning into Yoongi’s mouth as his husband’s tongue licks into his mouth. They break apart with heavy panting breaths and there’s nothing but lust and desire coursing through Jimin’s veins now. “I need you, I need you now.” Jimin whimpers, and it’s clearly all the convincing Yoongi needs. He grabs up Jimin’s hand and drags him at top speed through the house. Jimin giggles the whole way, hands clenching tighter to Yoongi’s as they move. Though Jimin’s vision is clearer than earlier, it’s still ever so slightly blurry. There’s nothing he can pick out to tell him where there are heading, but soon he can feel his feet stomping up stairs and he knows they’re heading to his childhood bedroom. The door is slammed shut behind them, by Yoongi pushing Jimin into it, before his mouth is claiming Jimin’s once more, teeth clashing together and tongues tied as they kiss. Jimin can already feel himself going pliant in his husband’s hold, knees wobbling and back arching off the door to lean deeper into the kiss. “Fuck Sunshine, you look so fucking beautiful today.” Yoongi breaths harshly between them as they

pull away, lips trailing down his neck and fingers deftly undoing Jimin’s shirt buttons. Jimin whines, wriggling in Yoongi’s hold, desperate to feel more of the amazing man he gets to call his own. “Yoongi, Yoongi.” He chants, he feels light headed. Yoongi groans, nibbling at the base of Jimin’s neck now that he’s freed it from the shirt. “So fucking beautiful, and you’re all mine.” He growls and it sends shivers up Jimin’s spine. “Yes, yes, all yours.” Jimin whimpers, fingers clawing into the back of Yoongi’s jacket. Yoongi soothes his tongue over the sting of the hickey, humming contentedly at the way the skin is no doubt blossoming red. “I’ve been wanting to get these clothes off you all day.” He continues, leg pushing up between Jimin’s to press against his crotch and the friction against his dick is so blissfully wonderful it has Jimin hissing. “Been wanting to hear you moan under me, scream so loudly from how good I’ll make you feel, that all our guests will know just how well I fuck you. How well I look after what’s mine.” Jimin is weak for a possessive Yoongi. There’s a confidence in the man that makes every nerve in Jimin’s body alight and he can feel his dick straining painfully against his slacks. He whines, rutting down on Yoongi’s leg uncontrollably. Yoongi snickers, breath hot on Jimin’s chest as he continues to suck hickeys into the skin there. “You like that, baby?” “Y-yes.” Jimin whines, body so uncoordinated in his drunken haze that he can’t find the right rhythm he needs. Yoongi’s hands trail hot across his bare skin under his unbuttoned shirt, down to his hips and settle there with a firm grip. “Let me take care of you, Sunshine.” He explains still Jimin’s hips and being greeted with a needy little whine. “P-please…” Jimin mutters back – not sure exactly what he wants but he knows Yoongi will give it to him. Yoongi will give him everything he needs, for the rest of their lives. Yoongi spins them so that Yoongi’s back is to the door this time, Jimin’s back to the bed and it’s a step in the right direction. A step closer to being naked on Jimin’s childhood bed, fucking as a newly wedded couple – but something is wrong. Something about the sharp spin has Jimin’s head pounding like his brain is going to burst right out of his skull. He feels bile rising in the back of his throat, his skin going cold and a disgusting churning in the pit of his stomach that feels like there’s a blender mixing everything up in there. “Sunshine? What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, all teasing and lust dropped from his voice. “S-sick…” Jimin mumbles, hands wrapping around his swirling stomach. Yoongi looks confused for all of a second, before panic washes over his face. “Shit, shit, okay…” He babbles, grabbing Jimin by his hand and tugging him quickly out of the room. They just manage to make it to the bathroom on the ground floor so Jimin can upchuck the alcohol contents of his stomach into the toilet.

____________

Jimin is crying again. He feels like he’s been vomiting for years and there’s no end in sight. He feels disgusting, like this alcohol induced sickness will never leave him and it’s made him feel so pathetic and hopeless. Yoongi is sat on the floor of the bathroom with him, never once leaving his side, rubbing soothing circles into Jimin’s back and hushing him gently as he cries. Jimin doesn’t deserve Yoongi, he really doesn’t. Who gets so drunk during their wedding, that they almost vomit all over their husband when they’re about to get down and dirty? The thought makes Jimin feel even worse, mixed with a bought of nausea that has him throwing up once more. “You’ll make it worse if you keep crying.” Yoongi soothes, handing Jimin a tissue to wipe his mouth with. “B-but,” Jimin hiccups. “I’m so sad.” “Why are you sad, Sunshine?” Yoongi asks gently. “I almost threw up on you.” Jimin explains. “We were both hard, and then I went and vomited everywhere – that’s not sexy.” Yoongi chuckles, kissing Jimin’s clammy temple. “I still think you’re sexy.” And the words trigger more tears and wails. Yoongi hushes him, hands wrapped around Jimin’s jaw and thumbs swiping away as many tears they can catch. “Please stop crying sunshine.” “You’re so good to me.” Jimin wails. “And I couldn’t even give you the good loving on our wedding night. I don’t deserve you.” “Stop that, you’re being ridiculous.” Yoongi snaps a little too harshly. Jimin cowers at the words then bursts into more tears. “No, no, stop, Sunshine please.” Yoongi begs. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh…” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jimin sobs. There’s a twisting in his stomach, bile in his throat and it has him twisting out of Yoongi’s hold to vomit once more. Yoongi gently strokes his back, dabbing at Jimin’s mouth with another tissue once Jimin’s finished. “I mean you’re being ridiculously hard on yourself. I love you no matter if you’re dressed in lingerie or hurling into the toilet. Besides, we have the rest of our lives together for you to give me the good loving.” Yoongi winks. God, he’s so wonderful. Jimin cries again. “I’m punching well above my weight with you, Min Yoongi.” His sobs and his words echo around the bathroom, bouncing back at him and the patheticness of it all just fuels his tears even more. Yoongi chuckles. “Your words, not mine.” “B-But they’re true.” Jimin sniffles as Yoongi pulls him into a loose hug. “How about we get you out of these clothes and into bed, huh?” Yoongi suggests. “I’ll cuddle you all night.” Jimin sniffles. “You won’t tell anyone that I almost threw up over you when we were about to get

nasty?” “To be fair, we still did get nasty, just in a different way.“ Yoongi teases and Jimin’s hand weakly thumps against his husband’s chest. “But I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” Jimin nods, flopping his head against Yoongi’s shoulder. “The room is still spinning.” “Think you need to throw up some more?” Jimin shakes his head. “Maybe it’ll be good to cancel our flight to Jeju.” Yoongi suggests. Jimin pouts. “But I was looking forward to it.” “There’s always a next time, Sunshine.” Yoongi explains, carding his hand through Jimin’s silver locks. The movement is calming, soothing and everything Jimin’s drunken body needs right now. “We have the rest of our lives to go to Jeju.” “You really are too good for me.” Jimin sighs, body sagging in Yoongi’s hold. “Want to know a secret?” Yoongi asks quietly. Jimin feels like he could fall asleep at any minute, body so weak, throat ripped to shred like it’s been rubbed with sandpaper and his head feels clammy. But he nods, fuzzy nuzzling against the warm sandalwood scent of his husband. “I was made only to love you, Min Jimin.”

Chapter End Notes

Hello, I'm sorry for the little bit of a wait on this! But I hope it's worth the wait in the end (*•̀ᴗ•́*)‫̑̑ و‬ Initially I really struggled writing this, I knew roughly the outlines of this chapter but filling them in was proving to be a little more ambitious than I initially thought it would be ( ´△｀) BUT THEN INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A WRECKING BALL AND I WAS CONSUMED WITH THE NEED TO WRITE! And this turned out to be my favourite chapter to write so far, (//3//) even through all the smuttttt~ (AGAIN, I PROMISE I'LL GET BETTER AT IT!) I wish I could have gotten this out to you sooner, but alas I was really busy with my last days of the school year.(▰˘︹˘▰) It feels like forever since I last posted!! BUT TODAY WAS MY LAST DAY AND EVEN THOUGH I'M SAD TO SAY GOODBYE TO MY KIDS, I'M HAPPY I GET A NICE LONG SPRING BREAK! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Thanks for waiting on me, lovelies~ ^* I hope you enjoy this (-3-) The poem Jisu reads is real, it's called 'Prayer to Persephone' by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Also, if you wanna hear their first dance song, it's called 'The Luckiest' by Ben Folds^^ PS THIS CHAPTER WAS BETAD BY MY WONDERFUL CHILD PHOEBE! THANK YOU CUTIE^^ Come talk to me, I wanna hear what you think about this chapter, and I wanna scream with you about how small Jimin's hands are... THEY'RE SO CUTE OMG hmu♥

A Life with Love is a Life that’s been Lived Chapter Summary

Jimin has to watch his mother die, and Yoongi has to watch his husband fall apart.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

“Where’s Jungkook?” Yoongi demands, slamming into the main room with his face pulled into the angriest of scowls. Jimin, who had been on his way to dozing off on the couch, practically jumps awake from the harsh bite to his husband’s voice. He blinks the sleep, that had been gently relaxing him, out of his eyes and stares at Yoongi as his brain catches up with what’s going on. Yoongi looks as though he’s just sprinted a marathon, pale face with a slight tinge to it, crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his navy blue tie has been unceremoniously shoved into one of the pockets of his slacks. “Where’s who?” Jimin asks, brain still a little sleep ailed. Yoongi folds his arms about his chest, lips pulling into a hard flat line. “Jungkook.” Jimin’s mouth pulls into a little ‘o’ of understanding as he shuffles to sit up right. He’d woken up earlier on his lazy Saturday morning, to a quiet house and had planned to take full advantage of it by napping in the living room. It’s been a good few weeks since he’s last had a breath to himself, not that Jimin’s complaining. It’s been nice to have someone keep him company whilst he waits up for Yoongi to get home. Jungkook is still quiet, still a little apprehensive, but Jimin feels lucky enough that with each passing second he gets to see the boy relax out of the adult life he had been thrown in too early, and get to act his age. Taehyung had finally moved into his own apartment after three full weeks of annoying Yoongi in anyway he could. But really you’d still think his best friend was still living with them, what with the fact he spends more time at the Gangnam penthouse than his own home. But Taehyung’s presence is nothing but calming for Jungkook – something Jimin finds hard to believe when the model acts like a hyperactive puppy half the time – but either way, if Jungkook is happy, Jimin is too. On this particular Saturday however, after a Friday evening of treating Jungkook to lamb skewers after passing the entrance exams into the new private school Yoongi had enrolled him in, Jimin had found two yellow post it notes stuck to his nightstand. ‘You looked to peaceful to wake up, I won’t be too long ~ YG’ ‘Yerin is taking me shopping she said to call when you wake up! ~ JK P.S. Yoongi-hyung is a sap.’ “Yerin has taken him shopping for his new school uniform in Gangnam.” Jimin explains. Yoongi scoffs. “Where’d you hear that?”

Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “Kookie left a note this morning, and I called Yerin to double check.” “Well, she lied to you. They’re in Daegu.” Yoongi’s voice is flat and even, deep and grumbled and Jimin can tell his short fused husband is more than just a little annoyed. Which is just fan-fuckingtastic, because that means Jimin has to be on the receiving end of a ranting rage. There goes his peaceful Saturday afternoon. Jimin sighs, stretching his arms above his head, he can feel an impending fight permeating the air already. “She said they were going to stay in Gangnam.” “I had Hoseok tail them, they’re most definitely in Daegu.” Yoongi responds. Jimin narrows his eyes at Yoongi. “Why did you have Hobi-hyung follow them? They’re not in any danger seeing as your mother takes two bodyguards with her whenever she goes out.” “For this very reason, of course.” Yoongi spits. “I knew she’d pull something like this.” Jimin shrugs. “What? Want to spend time with her grandson?” Yoongi laughs, it’s dark and a little maniacal and Jimin thinks that maybe his husband has lost the plot. “Spend time with him.” He says through his chuckles. “That’s a good one, really.” Jimin stands to his feet with a little huff. “You’re acting like a drama Queen.” He concludes before storming straight past his over dramatic husband to the kitchen. “You’re just salty that Yerin likes Jungkook so much, when you were hoping for her to flip out over him being not what she expected.” “That’s not the point.” Yoongi snaps back, storming after Jimin and it feels like he’s talking to a hormonal teenager rather than his husband. “She likes him a little too much.” Jimin pauses mid stretch for the fridge, turning to send his husband a ridiculing stare. “How can it be a bad thing that she likes Jungkook ‘a little too much’? I think it’s just what the boy needs.” “She’s made it clear on numerous occasions that she wants an heir, not a grandchild.” Yoongi spits, hands flattening against the breakfast bar in a stance that Jimin can only describe as aggressive. “I could smell her plan the moment she first saw Jungkook.” In a shocking turn of events to all, especially Yoongi, Yerin hadn’t thrown up a storm when she arrived at the couple’s apartment to meet Jungkook all those weeks ago. In fact, it looked almost as if the woman could cry tears of joy over the fact Jungkook was 18 rather than a newborn. When an irritably stunned Yoongi had asked why she was so happy, her reasoning was so very Yerin, that Jimin was shocked but not entirely surprised by it: ‘I get to skip through all the messy children years and skip straight to a young adult of grandson. What’s not to be happy about that? Children are disgusting, I’m glad I only had to deal with one in my lifetime.’ Jimin rolls his eyes, throwing open the fridge in search of something to eat. “You’re being ridiculous.” He repeats, but knows his words are falling on deaf ears. “I’m not, she’s clearly trying to sink her claws into Jungkook so that there’s a successor to the Min family after myself.” Yoongi slams his hands on the breakfast bar and lets out an irritated grunt. Jimin grabs a packed of ham and slams the fridge closed. “That’s not for her to decide, that’s for

Jungkook to decide.” “Exactly.” “Then tell her that.” “It’s not that simple.” Jimin huffs, pulling a slice of ham from the packet and popping it into his mouth. “Honey, it really is. Again, you’re just being over dramatic.” Yoongi groans. “Why are you not seeing the severity in this situation? Do you want Jungkook to be a gang member?” Jimin chews through another slice of ham before he answers. “I want Jungkook to be happy.” “So if it makes him happy to take over from me, you’d let him do it? Even though you know the type of life I lead, the type of skeletons that will collect in his closet, the amount of blood that he’ll have on his hands?” There’s something about the way in which Yoongi is speaking that is rubbing Jimin up the wrong way. There’s a spite to his words, an anger that Jimin can tell isn’t in frustration for the way that his mother is sneakily doing things behind his back. There’s a bite in his words that are aimed specifically at Jimin, and Jimin doesn't like it. He lowers the packet of ham onto the breakfast bar slowly, carefully picking out the right words in his head before he speaks them. “I think you’re putting words in my mouth.” “How? When you clearly implied that you’d more than willingly let Jungkook become a murderer so long as he’s happy.” His voice is cold and it has Jimin gritting back his bubbling anger. “I never implied anything of the sort. You’re the one implying that.” Jimin replies through his clenched teeth. “There’s clearly something not sitting right with you about this whole situation, and instead of talking to me about it, you’re making me look like the bad guy.” “I’m just calling shit like I see it, Sunshine.” Yoongi spits and Jimin flinches. He’s never heard Yoongi use so much spite behind his nickname; he might as well just be calling Jimin by his actual name seeing as it makes Jimin feel so small. “I think you should go to your office and lock yourself away for a few hours to calm down.” Jimin suggests, turning his face away from Yoongi. He’s so angry, so disgusted and most importantly he’s feeling so hurt. What the hell has he done to receive this shit? Yoongi scoffs. “I don’t need to cool down.” “You’re not thinking straight.” “I’m thinking perfectly fine.” Jimin snaps his eyes back to his husband, fire burning through his veins. “Clearly you’re fucking not, else you’d see how uncomfortable and upset I am right now. You’re clouded by anger that you’d rather just fling at me rather than civilly talk to me about, so I don’t want to talk to you until you’ve calmed down.” He explains, marching his way out the kitchen towards their bedroom. “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” Yoongi calls, following hot on Jimin’s heels. “We’re still

talking.” “No we’re not, we’re arguing. And I told you, I’m not going to argue with you.” Jimin bites back, walking into their bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Yoongi flings it open, the door connecting so harshly with the wall that it knocks down the picture frames that were hanging there. They shatter to the floor with a shrill smash, but Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I’m not done talking.” Yoongi shouts, his voice is so loud it stings Jimin’s ears. “Seriously Yoongi, fuck off.” Jimin spits, turning on his heels and pinning his husband with a harsh glare. “You’re not doing yourself any favors pushing this.” “Then stop running away.” Yoongi is standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed into slits in a glare that could cut glass. Jimin’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “Fine, you wanna fucking talk, lets fucking talk!” He shouts. “You wanna know if I’d let Jungkook take over from you if that’s what he decided to do? Then yes, I would, because that’s his decision to make, not mine.” Yoongi laughs, wickedly and sharply. “You’re such a hypocrite.” “Excuse me?” “You’re the one who makes it perfectly clear that you won’t ever be happy with what I do, and yet here you are agreeing all so willingly to letting Jungkook take over the family business. The kids not even blood family, you’re really okay having that kind of guilt on your shoulders?” “Let’s get one thing straight here.” Jimin begins stepping closer to Yoongi there’s so much anger in his system now that he’s finding it hard to hold onto rational thinking. “I said I would let the kid take over, but I never said I’d be okay with it. My thoughts and beliefs on the matter of my husband being a cold blooded murder wont ever change, and I will have the same feelings towards Jungkook if that’s what he decides to do.” “Th- “ Yoongi buts in. “Shut the fuck up I’m still talking.” Jimin spits, his voice is like razor blades and he’s never seen Yoongi’s mouth snap shut so fast in all his life. “My worry will double ten fold as I wait up at night wondering whether either of you will come home tonight. My guilt will eat away at me like worms to an apple knowing that that sweet boy is out there bloodying his hands along with my husband, but there is nothing I can do about it. Because that is your decisions to make.” Jimin feels his phone vibrating in his pocket with an incoming call and he pulls it out, breathing harshly from his shouted speech. “Don’t fucking answer that.” Yoongi demands. Jimin declines the call and throws his phone on the bed. “Don’t tell me what to do.” “I clearly need to, considering you don’t seem to be in your right mind.” Yoongi growls. Jimin’s eyes blow wide. “I’m sorry pot, this is the kettle calling, you’re black.” “You’re the moralistic one here, you’re the one that should be pushing the kid towards safer happier

things. Right now you’re basically sending him off with my mother with a smile on your face, perfectly happy in the knowledge he could come back today ready to be a killer.” Yoongi shouts, his voice getting louder and rushed with each passing word. “I’m still going to do that, but as I keep saying, it’s Jungkook’s choice as to what he wants to do with his life, not ours.” Jimin repeats. He’s getting real sick and tired of repeating himself. “It’s our responsibility as his guardians to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid with his life, do you not understand that? What if we have kids one day? What then? Would you be so willing to let them come join me in hell?” “Stop talking like that! What the fuck has gotten into you? You’ve never been so concerned about this before.” Jimin snaps. “Because I thought you’d be in the right mind to play the good cop and see to it our children have better options out there than taking over the family business. Obviously I was wrong, so I have every right to be worried.” Yoongi’s arms are flying around like a mad man, accentuating his anger and Jimin knows it’s only a matter of time before the man punches the wall in frustration. That’s happened only once before, in Jimin’s old apartment, and it resulted in an ugly crack. Jimin would rather not cause any damage to their expensive penthouse suit if they can so help it. “I’m sorry, and where are you in all this?” Jimin retorts. “Am I parenting on my own in the future? What happened to being a team?” Yoongi scoffs. “Like Jungkook, or any future children we may have, would listen to me? They’d only see me as a hypocrite.” And then it dawns on Jimin what’s gotten his husband so wound up. “Is that what this is all about?” Yoongi doesn’t think he’s worthy enough to be a good father, a good guardian or even a good role model. The words go unspoken in the room, swirling around in Jimin’s head as he pins his husband under a glare. Jimin doesn’t want to put the words in his frustrated husband’s mouth – he needs to hear it from the man himself. “I-“ Yoongi begins, eyes so cold and so devoid of the emotion Jimin is so used to seeing there, that it swirls something painful in Jimin’s gut. If there’s one thing he hates the most in this world, it’s his husband questioning his morality and his worth. But Jimin doesn’t get to hear the end of Yoongi’s sentence, his phone starts blaring loudly from his jacket pocket, and his swift slender fingers pull the device out quickly. “Don’t fucking answer that, we’re not done here.” Jimin snaps, he maybe starting to sympathise as to where his husband’s pent up anger is coming from, but that doesn’t mean his anger has deflated. There was no need for Yoongi to flip out on him, and he won’t be satisfied till his stubborn husband sees this and apologises. Yoongi doesn’t even spare him a glance. “I have to answer this, it could be work related.” “Work can fucking wait, I’m you husband, prioritize me.” Jimin spits through gritted teeth. Yoongi glares at Jimin, defiantly, as he raises the phone to his ear and snaps a harsh greeting into the receiver. Jimin’s anger only doubles, bubbling through his veins like a volcano ready to blow. He closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths to try and keep himself at bay, considering his husband is being

so petty, so blinded by his unconstructed anger, Jimin has to be the adult in this situation. “Wait, what?” Yoongi asks into the phone and there is a distinct lack of rage missing from his once fuming husband that has Jimin snapping his eyes open. Yoongi’s posture has changed, his body is more relaxed, his mouth is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed not in anger, but in worry. It’s amazing how quickly anger can decapitate from your body in the wake of something so sobering. Yoongi’s eyes snap to Jimin’s face, they’re soft, so different from the cold flat glare he had been shooting Jimin’s only seconds earlier. They’re filled with pain and empathy that churns butterflies in Jimin’s stomach, causes his breaths to fall shallowly from his mouth and his hands shakes just a little bit. “We’re on our way.” Yoongi explains into the phone, free hand reaching out to tangle with Jimin’s and squeeze him tightly. Something is wrong.

___________ Jimin remembers hearing this song once that said “the real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.” He never really understood what that meant until now. ‘Yeah, we’re on our way now.” Yoongi explains softly into the phone as they sit in the back seat of Yoongi’s town car. Jimin’s not really sure he understands what’s happening. One minute he was ready to shove Yoongi’s head through a wall and the next Yoongi is dragging him out of the apartment at top speed placing phone call after phone call. He feels… well, he’s not really sure how he feels. He supposes lost would the right word for it, and if it weren’t for Yoongi’s hands still clinging tightly to him and keeping him grounded in the moment – Jimin thinks he might have lost himself to pure panic. He’s not ready for this. He doesn’t think he could ever be ready for this – but he at least thought he’d have forewarning for something as painful as this. But life is cruel, and as the song explains; you can never really be prepared for bad news, it comes when you least expect it. “He’ll be okay.” Yoongi explains again into the phone, his voice feels so distant from Jimin, despite the fact they’re shoulders are brushing. He can feel his husband’s eyes on his, watching him cautiously and carefully. Jimin has been staring out the car window for so long now, his eyes are stinging from the lack of moisture. He can’t find the energy to give his husband any reassuring sign that he’s okay. Yoongi squeezes his hand, but Jimin doesn’t squeeze back. He feels like he’s walking through a bad dream, worse than a nightmare, and he needs to wake up from it all. It’s like there’s cotton wool in his ears and cling film over his eyes as he loses himself more and more to worry, to fear. “We’ll call you when we know more.” Yoongi explains into the phone once more, Jimin’s never been so thankful that his husband is so good in an emergency. Yoongi hangs up without a goodbye

and pockets his phone swiftly, thumbs running gently across the back of Jimin’s hand. Yoongi leans closer to Jimin, planting his lips gently to his husband’s temple. He doesn’t say anything, knows that empty words of reassurance aren’t what Jimin needs to hear right now. He just needs Yoongi close, Yoongi’s warmth and Yoongi’s touch. He needs it to ground him, before he loses himself completely.

____________ They’re whisked straight into a doctor’s office as soon as they arrive at the hospital. Jimin dislikes hospitals as much as the next person, they’re so white that they hurt his eyes, so clinical that he feels little warmth and the way sickness, death and all things painful, clings to the air, leaves the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. The doctor is already waiting for them, welcoming them into the office with a deep pleasant voice that has Jimin feeling sick at the fakeness of it all. There’s nothing pleasant about this situation. “Please have a seat.” The Doctor offers, Jimin can see that the name on his ID card reads Doctor Yoo, but no one bothers to properly introduce themselves. Doctor Yoo is young, probably the same age as Yoongi, and undeniably handsome, with a thick head of luscious black hair that probably has all colleagues and patients drooling after him. Jimin really hopes his medical skills are as good as his looks. “You must be the Min’s, correct?” He asks, pulling a silver clipboard out from his desk drawer. “Yes.” Yoongi replies, knowing that Jimin isn’t going to be talking too much. “They wouldn’t tell us exactly what was wrong on the phone.” Doctor Yoo nods, “Procedure, delicate information is never issued over the phone, Min-ssi.” Yoongi nods in understanding. “So, what’s wrong?” “She suffered a seizure and collapsed at work.” Doctor Yoo sighs and Jimin doesn’t like what the sigh implies. “She was brought straight to the hospital, and upon further examination, we discovered a rather sizable brain tumor.” Jimin doesn’t know anything about brain tumors, besides the fact that they’re bad, and he can feel his breath shallow as panic bubbles in his veins. Yoongi can clearly sense his husband’s panic, and he pulls their entwined hands up to his lips, kissing Jimin’s knuckles gently and squeezing his hand tightly. Jimin clings to the touch, feeling very much like a balloon that could get lost on the wind if Yoongi lets go. “Okay.” Yoongi replies diplomatic as always, voice kept purposefully calm so as to keep Jimin calm too. “What can be done? Tumors can be treated right? With Chemotherapy or something?” “Usually yes.” Doctor Yoo replies. It’s a diplomatic answer, placating in the wake of two distraught family members of his patient. But Jimin isn’t stupid, he knows there’s nothing placating that can be said in this situation. Plus there’s too much sadness in the Doctors round dark eyes. “Chemotherapy would be the course of action one would take in a situation like this.” His words are hypothetical, they're not guarantees.

Jimin has emphatically decided that he doesn’t like this doctor. For all his handsomeness, he looks sad. Sad looking doctors are not the kind of doctors Jimin wants to be dealing with. Doctor Yoo’s eyes soften, the sad, pitiful aura he’s emitting doubling as he looks between the two of them. “I’m afraid, all we can do now is make her comfortable.” Jimin wants to be sick. Doctor Yoo spends the next 30 minutes telling them all the side effects that can ensue from now on. Jimin tries his hardest to listen carefully, to try and remember every single word the sad doctor tells him, but it’s so hard when he’s still in denial about the whole thing. “I want to see her.” Jimin says, cutting off Doctor Yoo mid speech about the type of medication that they’re prescribing her and how it should be administered. Doctor Yoo doesn’t even look offended or startled at being cut off. He nods understandingly and slides out of his chair to his feet. “Of course.”

____________ Jimin stops in the doorway to the ward the doctor leads them too, pulling Yoongi to a startling stop as he does. “Sunshine?” Yoongi asks and the worry in his voice irritates Jimin more than it should, but he brushes it aside. It doesn’t take Jimin long to locate his mother, tucked up comfortably in a rather hard looking hospital bed at the end of the room, near the window. She doesn’t look any different from the last time he saw her. She’s smiling so brilliantly as she talks the nurse’s ears off, long black locks pulled back into a loose bun atop her head, and face clear of her usual make up. There’s an IV sticking into the back of her hand and the off white of the hospital gown makes her look a little yellow. But there’s the usual colour in her cheeks and the same mischievous twinkle in her eye that Jimin has come to associate with his mother. She looks normal. She looks happy and healthy and normal. Jimin isn’t sure what he was expecting to see. But right now, before him, he can only see the strong woman who raised him. She doesn’t look sick, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering and Jimin realises that’s the most important thing. She’s still here, it doesn't matter how much longer there is left, because she’s still here. She’s teasing the male nurses and making them blush and she’s giggling in her twinkling bell like voice. There’s not an ounce of fear or worry marrying her youthful looking face and it has Jimin feeling a strong need to protect. “She’s not staying here.” Jimin says, no, he demands. His eyes never waver from the brilliant smile split across his mother’s face, eyes crinkled into smiles of their own. Jimin can see so much of himself in her, now more than ever before. His mother breaks out into another laugh that has the nurses smiling too from the infectious sound. It’s something that Jimin had always found so endearing about his mother, the way she lights up the room without even trying. Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s hand. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

____________ Jimin turns his phone off. He knows it’s a bad idea, knows that Seokjin and Taehyung and most definitely Jungkook will be trying to get ahold of him and see how he’s doing. He knows that Yoongi has spread the news around so that they don’t worry too much, Jimin just can’t handle all their pitying words sad stares. His mother is still alive, and even though none of them knows how much time is left, all of them are adamant at making every second count. There’s a somewhat unwritten rule amongst the three occupants of Jisu’s house- that no one brings up the matter at hand. Because right now, they’re all content with just living in the limited moment they have. The medication that Doctor Yoo has prescribed keeps Jisu’s pain at bay, enough for her to move around relatively easily and helps with her constant headaches. But it makes her appetite smaller, and although it’s only been a few weeks, Jisu is looking gaunt in the face and her skin is losing its golden glow. It’s only a matter of time until she’s bedridden. Jisu, despite her pain and how uncomfortable she must be feeling, continues to smile brightly whenever Jimin walks into a room. Continues to tease Yoongi as he tries his best to keep the house in order, so the mother and son pair can spend time together. Jimin always knew that his mother was one of the strongest women in the world, but her strength continues to amaze him. He doesn’t understand how she can still be smiling through all this and it be genuine. Jimin’s smiles are small and laced with fake happiness most of the time and he’s not even the one in pain. He really doesn’t know how she remains so bright, so happy, but she does. And it’s one of the reasons Park Jisu is Jimin’s hero. It’s become a tradition that the two wake up with the dawn – whilst Yoongi still rolls around in bed enjoying his much needed sleep. They go for long walks to the beach and sit in the sand watching the waves crash against the shore. They people-watch, making up ridiculous back stories for every passerby, the tales getting crazier and crazier with each person, to the point the two of them are both doubled over laughing like crazy people. Jisu reminisces about the times she would bring him for walks along the beach when he was younger. How he would look at the sea with big round eyes so excited at seeing something so different. “You were always such a curious baby.” Jisu explains, hands entwined with her son’s and head pillowed on his shoulder. “The first time you saw the sea, you ran straight for it on your little wobbling legs, giggling the whole time.” Jisu sighs, as if seeing the old memory happening right in front of her eyes. “Then the wave started heading towards you, and you about-turned and ran away from it, screaming as you went. Like the thing was a monster coming to get you.” Jimin scoffs. “I bet you acted like the best mother in existence and just stood by, laughing at me.” Jisu hums. “You know it.” “You’re awful.” “It was hilarious, let’s see you in the same situation and see if you don’t laugh.” Jisu retaliates before

letting out a little sigh. A silence falls about them; it’s peaceful, nothing but the sound of seagulls and the crashing of waves interrupting it. “Do you know what you used to call the ocean?” She asks. Jimin shakes his head. “But I’m guessing it’s something embarrassing.” Jisu coos. “No, it was incredibly cute.” “Debatable.” “I haven’t even told you it yet.” Jimin rolls his eyes and nudges into his mother’s side playfully. She giggles before continuing on with her story. ”You used to call it the big bath.” “I did not!” Jimin squawks. Jisu giggles. “You did! But you were always too chicken to go play in the sea. Even if I went in with you. You used to scream and cry for Eomma to come back before the Big Bath swallows me…” Jimin knocks into her again, a little harder this time. “Stop making shit up.” “I couldn’t make this up if I tried, Jiminie. Your cuteness knows no bounds.” Jisu explains. “It kind of sucked that I had to keep bringing you to the beach, but we were only allowed to sit on the sand.” “I was a kid, cut me some slack.” Jimin wines. Jisu’s smile is so wide, her eyes glistening with memories that Jimin wants to hear all about. “I didn’t mind so much.You would go waddling off like a little chick and pick up shells and bring them back for me.” Jisu explains. “Do you know what you would say when you gave them to me?” “What?” Jimin asks softly, eyes watching the crashing waves as they glisten under the March sun. “They’re pretty, like Eomma.” Jisu explains and Jimin’s grip around his mother’s hand tightens. Now when they have their morning walks to the beach, Jimin always finds the prettiest shells he can find in the sand to give to his mother.

____________ As much as Jimin loves his husband, he cannot cook to save his life. It’s a well known fact that Min Yoongi is a man that lived on eating in restaurants or take-away dinners before Jimin came into his life. Jimin’s always been happy to cook for the both of them, having doing so for his mother and himself when he still lived in Busan. Jimin remembers Yoongi trying to cook for them on their first anniversary and everything was presented charcoal black and yet simultaneously undercooked at the same time. It was unanimously decided then and there that Jimin would be in-charge of all food handling from then on, but Jimin did appreciate the sweet gesture nonetheless. However, Yoongi has been adamant that Jisu and Jimin spend as much time together as possible. So that means he’s taken it upon himself to become the housekeeper of sorts, a sight of which ironically makes Jimin giggle every time he sees his scary mafia husband doing something domestic. Yet whenever Jimin tries to do something to help, his kind gesture is always pushed aside by

Yoongi, who only kisses him on the nose and pushes him back towards his mother. Jimin can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, despite stubbornly trying to prove that he’s okay with what’s going on, he knows Yoongi can see right through him. He’s thankful that his husband completely understands him without Jimin having to explain. But that still doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi is a dangerous cook, and with each meal the food seems to be getting more and more unrecognizable. Not that Jisu really seems to care, in fact she thinks it’s the funniest thing on the earth and has taken to giving her son-in-law star rankings for his dishes. She mockingly dissects everything on the plate, right down to the nitty-gritty details and Jimin tries his hardest to bite back a laugh at the sight of his grumpy husband. He ultimately never receives anything over 1 star. “What’s this?” Jisu asks as Yoongi places the dinner he’s cooked for them this evening on the table. Yoongi has a scowl on his face and has pushed his locks back with one of his headbands. A bad move, considering there’s a long stripe of kimchi sauce across his forehead. “It’s kimchi fried rice, obviously.” Yoongi replies before spinning back to the stove to dish up his own plate. Jisu scoffs, taking her spoon and moving the rice on the plate. “I can see that.” “Then why did you ask?” Jisu narrows her eyes at him. “Because it’s pretty obvious you didn’t cook this.” Jimin giggles. “I think the kimchi on his forehead says otherwise.” He explains, grabbing the kitchen cloth and gently wiping away the sauce from his husband’s face. “But it’s not blackened.” Jisu argues. “It looks like actual food.” Yoongi gruffs, kissing the corner of Jimin’s face in thanks, before walking over to the table with his food. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jimin follows, plopping down in his chair between his mother and his husband and picks up his spoon. “There’s no chicken so at least we won’t be getting salmonella.” Jisu shivers. “I still get nightmares from the Curry Fiasco of last Friday.” Yoongi just rolls his eyes. “Fucking eat it already.” He gripes. Jisu does just that, heaving a large spoonful of rice into her mouth and chewing experimentally. “Holy shit.” She exclaims, food still in her mouth. “This is actually, pretty good.” “Really?” Jimin is skeptical as he takes a spoonful of rice from his own plate. Yoongi kicks him playfully under the table. “Yah! Don’t be so unsupportive.” Jimin giggles and takes his bite. His mother is wharfing down her plate like a woman starved and Yoongi hasn’t touched his yet, content to watch his test subjects eat his food. But low and behold, Jisu is right, it does taste damn good – and Jimin’s positive that to him it tastes even better because Yoongi made it for them. He’s a sap like that, after all. “Good?” Yoongi asks with a satisfied smirk on his face – he already knows the answer.

Jimin nods shoveling more food into his mouth, “The best.” He tributes. Yoongi lets out a cocky, satisfied chuckle. “I knew it.” He nods once before digging into his own plate. “5 stars!” Jimin announces proudly. Jisu scoffs. “Firstly, you’re married you have to give him 5 stars. You’re biased.” She hisses like it’s an offence to be so. “Secondly, I’m the only one that can give out star rankings. I made them up after all.” She sticks her tongue out at her son and Jimin’s not sure who’s the child in their relationship. “Get on with it then.” Yoongi grumbles around a mouthful of food. His body language screams uncaring, but Jimin knows his husband better. Jisu ponders over her score dramatically for a few seconds before announcing “4.9 stars.” Yoongi looks the epitome of offended. “How can you have .9 of a star?” Jisu shrugs. “I don’t make the rule.” “Yes, you do.” Yoongi spans, spoon pointed accusingly at Jisu. “You literally just said so.” Jisu rolls her eyes. “Pipe down Hades, the food’s still good.” “Then why isn’t it 5 stars good?” Yoongi demands. Jimin just smiles through the whole childish bickering. It’s weird how much peace it brings to Jimin, how normal it all is.

_____________

Jisu is only managing a few spoonfuls of solid foods now and Yoongi has taken to blending up smoothies for her instead. She’s also struggling to climb the stairs, her legs the size of twigs, wobbling and shaking like newborn Bambi as she tries to maneuver herself around the house. She’s sleeping longer than she used to too, her body just so exhausted as it tries and fails to fight off the disease. Their morning walks to the beach have turned into lunchtime drives there instead, so they can watch the sea from the car. Jimin knows that the pain must be getting so much worse; he can hear her vomiting in the night and he waits patiently outside the bathroom door for her to finish so he can help her back to bed. But she still smiles, she’s always smiling. Jimin still wakes up early, sitting alone at the kitchen table nursing his first cup of coffee for the day, and just stares at the slowly dying sunflowers on the kitchen table. His mother had picked them weeks ago, before she collapsed, and seeing as she doesn’t have the capability to tend to her garden and pick new flowers, Jimin hasn’t had the heart to throw the sunflowers away. Sometimes, Yoongi wakes up early with him, or not long after Jimin does anyway. Sensing the missing body next to him and seeking out Jimin’s warmth like the earth to the sun.

This morning is one of those times, his husband trudging into the kitchen looking a little more put together than he usually does. His phone is clasped in his hand and it doesn’t take much for Jimin to realise he was probably woken up from a call from work. Yoongi quietly runs a gentle hand down Jimin’s cheek and Jimin shivers from the touch. His husband sits opposite him with a sigh and places his phone on the table. “I think you should call them.” Yoongi explains. Jimin turns his eyes back to the sunflowers; they’re still a pretty vibrant yellow, only a little wilted. He thinks they can probably hang on a little bit longer. “I know.” He finally agrees. “Taehyung first.” Yoongi explains, pushing his phone closer to Jimin. Jimin turns his eyes to spy the phone, like it’s the most offensive thing he’s ever seen in his life. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a high diving board, debating with himself as to whether he should jump or not. He likes being high up here, blissfully unaware of what’s to come. If he jumps, everything becomes far more real. Yoongi reaches out to take Jimin’s left hand in his own and squeezes it tight. “You’re not alone in this. Let them help.” Jimin takes a deep steading breath and lets it out slowly through his lips. He nods, picking up the phone and slowly scrolling through the contacts to Taehyung’s number. He answers on the first ring. “And what honor have I received to warrant a call from Min Yoongi himself.” Jimin pulls a deep breath through his nose, his hands are shaking. “Tae Tae.” He whispers. There’s a small silence on the phone, broken only by rustling as Jimin assumes Taehyung moves to a more secluded area. “Hey, Chim, long time no speak.” “I know.” Jimin replies. He should apologize, and the words on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason it’s just so hard to get them out. “It’s okay.” Taehyung replies quickly. “What can I do to help?” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he does. “Not a lot if I’m honest. There’s not a lot anyone can do.” “But this is me we’re talking about.” Taehyung replies and Jimin can just imagine the cocky wiggle of his eyebrows. “I can be in Busan by 5.” Jimin nods in reply. “Okay.” “Jungkookie has been staying with me.” Taehyung adds “He’ll fight tooth and nail to come too.” “Th-that’s fine, he hasn’t met Eomma yet.” “Everyone should have the pleasure of meeting Park Jisu.” Taehyung agrees. “We’ll be there soon, Chim, don’t worry.” Jimin takes a deep shuddering breath. “Okay.” He whispers.

____________ It’s around 5:15 in the afternoon that they’re graced with the loudest, most obnoxious knocking in the world, which can only be caused by Taehyung. And surely enough, seconds after the front door is opened, Jimin’s got his arms full of best friend cuddles. “You didn’t tell me.” Taehyung mumbles into Jimin’s neck. Jimin feels like his whole weakened body is being recharged by Taehyung’s presence and he wraps his arms just a little tighter around his best friend’s back. “Because she’s still here.” Jimin whispers back. Taehyung pulls away from their hug, spying over Jimin’s face carefully before nodding once. Being his self-proclaimed soulmate means Taehyung can read Jimin like a book, and he’s never been more thankful for that. He doesn’t want to have to talk about the serious things right now. “Where is she?” “Reading, in the garden.” Jimin replies, but he hasn’t finished his sentence before Taehyung is sprinting through the house at top speed. “Be gentle!” Jimin calls after him, but he knows it falls on deaf ears. “JISU-AH!” Taehyung bellows before there’s a high yelp from his mother. “Taehyung, not so fucking rough.” Yoongi snaps from the kitchen and Jimin can only assume Taehyung has thrown himself at his mother. Jimin turns back to the door to see a rather timid looking Jungkook. He’s shuffling from foot to foot, eyes worryingly staring at Jimin and bunny teeth chewing on his lip. “Hyung…” He begins. Jimin smiles softly at him and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey Jungkookie.” He greets gently. “Were you worried?” Jungkook sighs, body relaxing a little under Jimin’s gentle touch. He nods, “A little bit, yeah. You turned your phone off.” Jimin feels guilty as he pulls Jungkook into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I wont do it again.” “It’s okay.” Jungkook replies, returning the hug a little awkwardly and a little timidly. “Do you want to meet her?” Jimin asks as they pull away. Jungkook has a red blush painting his cheeks, but nods nonetheless. Jimin takes up the boy’s hand and leads him through the house, following the sound of an over excited Taehyung nattering Jisu’s ear off. “Eomma, Jungkookie came to say hi too.” Jimin explains as he pulls the boy into the warm springfilled garden. Jisu, who’s lounging in one of her garden chairs and a large sun hat on her head, turns with a wide smile on her face. Her skin is so sickly pale now, her eyes are slightly sunken into dark bruising bags and her lips are red and chapped. Taehyung is sat on the floor; body flopped over her legs as he smiles up at her with all the happiness in the world. “Now, Jungkookie sounds like the name of my grandson.” She smiles cheekily.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Technically, it is.” Jisu pulls herself up from her lounging position, arms shaking as she does and Jimin automatically reaches out to help her sit upright. Jisu squeezes his upper arm in thanks, eyes still locked on Jungkook. He looks more awkward with every passing second, but he manages to smile politely and throw her a little wave. “Does my son treat you well?” “Very much so.” Jungkook nods like a bobblehead and it has Taehyung snickering a little behind his hand. “And you’re not scared of Yoongi?” She asks again. Jungkook pouts in thought. “To begin with, yeah.” Jisu giggles. “He’s a massive softie at heart though, isn’t he?” “Yah!” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, sticking his head out the window with a disgusted look plastered across it. “Stop ruining my cold and indifferent reputation, I worked hard for it.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Sorry Yoongi-hyung, but there’s no way you can be cold and indifferent and love someone as soft as Jimin-hyung.” Jisu lets out a long laugh, body crumpling in half like a folded piece of paper as she does. “I like you, Jungkookie.” She announces. “Come sit with your Grandmother and tell me all about yourself.” She demands, waving a bony hand in his direction for him to take. The four of them spend the rest of the afternoon, soaking up the spring sun and listening to Jungkook talking about everything and anything. From his favorite colour, to the types of food he doesn’t like. Jisu holds his hand the entire time, and Jimin’s heart just melts.

____________

“I think we need to call Jin-hyung.” Taehyung explains later that evening. They decided to order pizza for dinner, instead of stomach another one of Yoongi’s charcoaled meals. Jisu and Jungkook had passed out on the sofa watching one of her dramas, Jungkook’s head resting on her knees and Jisu’s hand stilled mid stroke through the boy’s hair. Jimin had left them to sleep, covering them in a light blanket before joining his husband and best friend as they clean up the remains of dinner in the kitchen. Jimin sighs, sat at one of the kitchen chairs with his legs curled up to his chest and chin resting on his knees. Seokjin already knows what’s going on, Yoongi has made it very clear that he’s been keeping everyone in the loop, and Seokjin is understanding enough to give Jimin the space he needs. But he knows why Taehyung thinks it’s a good idea to call Seokjin now rather than later, though he’s been trying really hard not to think about it. “Isn’t it a little early?” Jimin mutters so softly and so quietly, that both Yoongi and Taehyung stop their cleaning to turn and look at him. “I mean she may have months left and…”

Yoongi crosses the kitchen in three large strides to sit next to Jimin and pull him into his side. He rubs his hands soothingly down Jimin’s arms. “It’s better to be prepared, sunshine.” Taehyung is on his other side just as quick, kneeling on the floor and wrapping his hands round Jimin’s arms. “You don’t want to be squashed under unnecessary shit, Chim.” Taehyung sympathise. “Jin-hyung will be more than happy to deal with it.” Yoongi’s arm has slipped around Jimin’s waist, rubbing soothing circles into his hip. He presses his lips securely to Jimin’s temple and Jimin just wants to melt away into goo and pretend like none of this is actually happening. “It would be silly to leave it, Sunshine.” Yoongi agrees. Jimin nods slowly. “I know.” He lets another tired sigh past his lips. “It just sounds so final, that’s all.”

____________

Seokjin arrives the following afternoon with a stern but caring look to his face. He looks like a man about to tackle Everest and claim it as his bitch, and Jimin has the wonderful feeling of relief washing over him at the prospect of things getting done more diligently under Seokjin’s care. He holds three bags full of food containers up in front of Jimin before slipping past the younger to head towards the kitchen. “I’ve labeled everything with the dates they go bad. So make sure you check before you eat them.” He explains flinging open the fridge. Jisu is just wobbling into the kitchen from the garden, empty glass of water clasped in her hands. “Oh, Jinnie, when did you get here?” Seokjin abandons unpacking the food to go over and engulf the frail women in a tight hug. “Just a little while ago, how you holding up?” She sighs into the hug. “Not so bad, can’t complain.” God, his mother really is an angel. Seokjin pulls apart from their hug, holding Jisu at arms distance to give her the once over. “I brought food.” “Thank fuck!” Jisu announces through a croaky voice. “They’ve been starving me Jinnie, feeding me food that can only be acceptable in the Underworld.” Seokjin furrows his eyebrows turning to look at Jimin who’s taken to putting the food away. “Yoongi’s been cooking.” Jimin elaborates. “Fuck, is what he makes even considered food?” Seokjin scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ve just sneezed three times in a row, so I know you’re bad mouthing me.” Yoongi bellows from the garden where he’s set up a makeshift office space next to Jisu’s reading spot. Seokjin scoffs. “Is my brother here?”

Jisu nods. “Him and Jungkook popped into town to get more coffee.” “Well, I’m going to get started on the boring stuff.” Seokjin explains. “Is everything in the same place it was last time?” Jisu nods. “Thanks again, Jinnie.” Seokjin waves a dismissive hand at her. “Anytime.” He explains. “I brought you a present, it’s at the bottom of one of the bags. Figured it would keep the two of you occupied whilst I work.” Seokjin winks at Jisu and Jimin before he leaves the kitchen. Jisu cocks her head at her son. “Wonder what it could be.” She ponders excitedly shuffling over to the bags and routing around them. It takes her only a few seconds before she pulls a small black box from the depths of the third bag with a Cheshire cat grin on her face. She holds the box triumphantly out to Jimin and Jimin can’t help but return her smile. “We’ve never been orange.” She comments as Jimin takes the box of hair dye from her hands. Jimin chuckles. “No time like the present.” He decides.

____________ “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is soft, waking him from his slumber with a gentle shake of his arm. Jimin blinks a little,uncertainty awake, neck feeling stiff as he does. “Wh-what…” Yoongi chuckles. “You fell asleep on the couch, Sunshine.” He explains. “But Seokjin wants to talk to you.” Jimin turns down to look at his mother, who’s curled up like a cat across the couch, half over him and half on the blankets they had once been swathed in. He carefully slips his way out from underneath his mother, so as not to wake her, and takes up his husband’s hand as he leads Jimin into the kitchen. Seokjin is sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, chewing on the top of his pen. His hair is a little disheveled as he goes through countless legal papers that have a lump forming in Jimin’s throat. He looks up when Jimin enters, a small tired smile on his face. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Jimin shrugs, pulling Yoongi to sit with him at the table opposite Seokjin. “It’s alright, what can I help with?” Seokjin sighs, pushing the papers aside and pulling a small white envelope off the top of a neat stack of papers he’s made on the floor. “I came across this, and it looks a little personal, so I thought maybe you should open it instead of me.” Jimin nods, taking the envelope from Seokjin’s hands, it’s not sealed, and it takes him a few minutes to pull two documents out and lay them flat on the table. Jimin runs his eyes over them, but the amount of legal jargon printed on them is enough to make Jimin’s head spin. He shrugs, pushing them closer to Seokjin. “They look legal, it might be best you looking at them.”

Seokjin nods, taking one of the papers in his hand. It takes no more that two seconds for Seokjin to skim through it. “These are emancipation papers.” Seokjin explains. “On February 15th 1995, the court hereby rules in favour of Kim Jisu-ssi, in her request of emancipation from her legal guardians.” He reads, eyes blown as he does. Jimin’s not surprised by his hyung’s shock, Jimin has never once mentioned the Parks more than just in brief annoyed passing. Not even with Yoongi, really. “Oh, that.” Jimin mumbles. Seokjin cocks his head to one side. “I thought she had just run away from home?” Jimin looks down at the table. “She tried to run away to begin with, but she was dragged back home kicking and screaming.” Jimin supplies with a bite to his voice. “It’s not like a pregnant 15 year old can get very far of her own accord anyway. This was the only way she could keep me.” “What do you mean, only way she could keep you?” Yoongi asks, brows furrowed. “The Parks were going to force her to give me up for adoption.” Jimin explains again, trying to keep his patience under check. God, he hated the Parks more than anything. “Seeing as she told them she’s was pregnant too late in the game to make her to get an abortion.” “That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi spits. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Jimin mumbles, eyes falling onto the other paper. “This probably has something to do with the emancipation.” He taps the paper, pushing it towards Seokjin. Again, it takes only a few seconds for Seokjin to read through the legal jargon, humming as he does. “It’s a contract Jisu signed, relinquishing all rights her or any of her children have towards the Park family inheritance.” He reads over the paper once more, eyes practically popping out of his head. “Holy shit, Jiminie, your grandparents are Chulsoo and Minjun Park?” “They’re not my grandparents.” Jimin spits. “But yes, the Chulsoo and Minjun Park you’re reading about are in fact the very same ones that own every 5 star hotel in South Korea and Japan.” “They never contacted you once? Neither you nor your mother?” Yoongi asks, tentatively. “Nope.” Jimin pops the ‘p’ as he says it. “I remember Eomma saying how they tried to get in contact with her a few months back. But she hadn’t followed through with it.” “Good on her.” Yoongi praises, a look of disgust thrown at the legal documents on the table as if they’re the Parks themselves. “So she has never received money from them? Or some kind of compensation?” Seokjin probs a little more, scribbling something down on a notepad. “Because it happens from time to time, when rich families want to get rid of what they consider eyesores. They pay them off handsomely and some even set up yearly payments…” “Eomma didn’t want anything from them.” Jimin cuts him off quickly. Yoongi hums. “Yeah, that sounds like your mother.” He agrees, giving Jimin’s hand a tight squeeze where it’s resting on the table. Jimin offers him a small smile back. Seokjin nods in agreement. “Sorry, going to have to be the inconsiderate lawyer for just a little longer.” He warns and Jimin nods, stealing his nerves. “How did she manage to afford this house?

Because unless you’re rich, or happen to have the house passed down to you from relatives, it’s impossible for a teenage mother to afford to get a place like this.” “She took up the job of a live in care-worker for a little old lady called Park Soojung. This was her house.” Jimin can’t help the fond smile that fills his lips at mention of Soojung Halmeoni. “She took a strong liking to Eomma and me. She would tell everyone that I was her grandson and Eomma was her daughter. No one batted an eye because our last names were the same, plus Soojung Halmeoni always liked to keep to herself rather than socialize with the neighbors.” Jimin chuckles, playing absentmindedly with Yoongi’s fingers. “I can only remember little things about her, I was so small when she died. But Eomma always speaks kindly of her.” “And she just left you guys this house when she died?” Seokjin inquires, scribbling more onto his notebook. Jimin nods. “She didn’t have any other living relatives. Her husband passed away years ago and she never had any children of her own. Apparently she always thought the house would be perfect to raise children in.” Jimin rests his chin in his spare hand, a small smile on his lips. “Eomma told me, that Soojung Halmeoni was more of a mother to her in the four years she knew her, than her blood mother ever was.” No one says anything and Jimin lets out a little sigh as his mind continues on its venture down memory lane. “I told my mother once, that I always thought of Soojung as my blood grandmother and she cried. I was worried I’d said something wrong, but she just hugged me tight and said that Soojung Halmeoni would be so happy to hear me say that.” Jimin runs a hand through his now brightly dyed orange locks. “I think Eomma must have been starved of love as a child, because she cried a lot when Soojung Halmeoni died.” “Fuck, your mother really is so strong.” Yoongi laments. “I know.” Jimin agrees easily.

____________ Jimin can hear hushed voices talking around him, and it takes him a while to realise where he is. It must still be pretty late, he can’t feel the bright light of the sun in his eyes as he usually does when he wakes up. Much like their apartment in Gangnam, the curtains are never closed in Jimin’s childhood home either. Jimin’s taken to sleeping with his mother, curled up around her body and feeling like nothing in the world can touch them like this. He feels like he’s 6 years old again, sneaking into his mother’s bed at night after a bad dream, and having all his nightmares soothed out of him just by his mother’s presence. “You know, I never thanked you.” His mother says, voice raspy and scratched as she wheezes through her words. There’s a soft deep chuckle that Jimin automatically recognises as Yoongi’s, and it stops him from opening his eyes. “You, thanking me? Must be a blue moon.” Jisu scoffs, then ends up coughing, the erratic rise and fall of her chest felt under Jimin’s hand as it rests on his mother’s stomach. “Shut up, I’m being serious you ass.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Go on then, why do you want to thank me?” “For showing my baby his worth.” Jisu explains. “I tried so hard, so damn fucking hard to make him see just how amazing a person he is. Just how kind and caring and beautiful he is. It’s heartbreaking just how easily all my confidence building for him can be shattered with just a few words from bullies.” Yoongi grumbles. “Don’t bring pathetic excuses for human beings up in front of me.” Jisu chuckles, “You’ve been nothing but good for him you know?” She continues, hand stroking through Jimin’s hair and Jimin nuzzles subconsciously into the touch. He maybe pretending to sleep, but there’s no way he’d shy away from affection, even whilst asleep. “To begin with, I was worried, what with everything you do and all. I was worried how safe you could really keep him.” Jisu continues and her words leave an icy chill around the room that has Jimin stiffening where he lays. “Wh-what do you…” Yoongi begins cautiously. Jisu titters. “Pah-lease, I’m not nearly as stupid as you all have me pegged to be.” She explains and Jimin feels a cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck. “An attempted kidnapping my ass. No one out right shoots a man from a kidnapping going wrong. They would’ve just left me and ran to save their skin.” “Why didn’t you say anything if you knew?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin can just picture the pure look of horror on his husband’s face. “Because you were both adamant on my not knowing, and you obviously had your reasoning behind that, so I didn’t push it.” Jisu continues. There’s a slight pause and Jimin can hear his heart beating furiously in his chest. “How long have you known?” Yoongi asks quietly. “Since the first time I saw your face.” Jisu explains. “It’s hard to not know the scary mafia members by name and face when you barely scrape enough money to live by.” She explains. “You never, I mean my men, they never…” Yoongi stutters. Jisu’s hand hasn’t stopped stroking through Jimin’s hair and it’s all that’s keeping him from flinging himself over his mother and apologizing profusely. The only thing keeping him from potentially having a mild panic attack over this whole thing. “No. I knew better than to get involved in the likes of gangs and mafia members. Something of which I’m glad I never taught Jiminie.” She muses. “Else he might never have been this happy.” “Jisu, look I’m- “ Yoongi begins but Jisu cuts him off with a soft ‘shh’. “Don’t apologize.” She explains. “Like I said, you obviously had your reasons for keeping me in the dark. And if I know my son half as well as I claim I do, I bet it has something to do with keeping me safe. And I can never be mad at either of you for that.” She explains. Jimin can feel her shuffling ever so slightly on the bed. “You hear that Jiminie, I’m not mad at you.” She whispers.

Jimin opens one eye at his mother and smiles sheepishly. She’s managed to shuffle herself down on the bed so that they’re face to face, inches apart and there’s a kind smile on his Jisu’s withered face. Jimin just places a kiss to his mother’s forehead and wraps himself tighter around her. “I’m sleepy.” He announces before nuzzling into the crook of his mother’s neck.

____________ Jimin knows that there’s no time left really. But he’s profusely refusing to believe it. Jisu has been bedridden for a week now; barely keeping her eyes open long enough to hold a conversation past mumbled wheezes. Jimin hasn’t left her side, either sat stiffly on a chair by her bed while she sleeps, or curled up with her in the bed so they can chat. Yoongi joins them as often as he can, wanting to give the mother and son some alone time whilst still being a reassuring presence for Jimin. Seokjin, Taehyung and Jungkook have taken charge of the upkeep of the house, popping into the room every now and then with food and drinks – because they all know Jimin won’t be leaving his mother’s side any time soon. When Jisu is awake, Jimin likes to read her the books that she so loves. The books that she used to dramatically read to him when he was a child. He tries to do the different character voices, and sometimes they work well drawing wheezing giggles out of Jisu. But sometimes the voices just don’t work and Jimin cringes through his entire dramatic reading, Yoongi snickering behind his hand. But Jisu just smiles and listens intently to Jimin’s every word. Currently, he’s curled himself up like a cat next to her on the bed, their hands intertwined as they rest on their sides facing each other. He remembers when he was younger; the two would spend lazy Sunday mornings sprawled across her double bed, Jimin’s head pillowed on his mother’s stomach as she cards a hand through his hair. They would get lost for hours in pointless conversations, debating the existence of aliens, listing through all the names of dinosaurs they could remember and cataloguing their top five fiction worlds they’d like to visit. “Eomma.” Jimin asks quietly to which his mother only hums in answer too. She hums a lot more now rather than use words to reply; it takes less energy from her. “Are you happy?” Jisu opens her eyes slowly, running gently over every curve and detail of Jimin’s face as if seeing him for the first time. “Of course I’m happy, Chick.” She explains as if it’s a ridiculous notion to think otherwise. “Where did you get the notion that I wasn’t?” “I never said that…” Jisu titters. “I know you better than that Park Jimin. You look worried, talk to me.” She demands, and Jimin would never be able to deny her request even if he wanted too. Jimin shrugs. “I dunno.” He supplies unhelpfully. “You’ve just lived such a hard life and all. And I know things would have been easier if I wasn’t in the picture, and I don’t think I thank you enough for choosing me and...” Jisu hushes him. “There was never any question as to whether I should keep you or not. You were made for me, and I was made for you and we were made to be a family. I’ve had the happiest life I could have ever wished for.” “Don’t you miss them, your family?” Jimin asks in a small voice.

Jisu hums. “When you’re off in Seoul, of course I miss you! But you’re only a phone call away, Chick.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” He supplies. “Your parents, don’t you miss them?” “No.” She replies without a beat of a second. “Because you’re my family, Chick, you’re all I ever have and ever will care about.” Jimin nods, pushing himself closer to his mother’s sweet honey and sunshine smell. “Thank you, for being my mother.” “You should thank God for that Chick.” She supplies. “He had a plan for us all along.” Jimin smiles fondly, he doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks that maybe next time he walks past a church he really will give God his thanks. Whether God will listen to him or not is another matter entirely, but Jimin was raised well to give thanks when it’s deserved. “Are you happy, Chick?” His mother asks in a quiet voice. Jimin nods. “Very much so.” “Promise me you’ll always be happy?” “I promise.” Jimin whispers. “I love you, Eomma.” “Love you too, Chick.”

____________

Jimin wakes up and he feels cold. The bed is cold despite two people lying in it and his heart sudden is suddenly heavier, like it’s being crushed by the weight of the world. His wakes slowly at first, eyes adjusting to the light of the room, sunlight blinding in through the window behind his mother’s sleeping form. “Eomma?” Jimin whispers, hand trailing out to push a few loose strands of her orange locks away from her pale face. It’s weird how cold she is, icy even, and Jimin is reaching for the blanket that’s been kicked down to the end of the bed. He tucks it tightly up to her neck, “Eomma? Are you cold?” He whispers into the horribly quiet room, hands rubbing up and down her arms in an attempt to get some warmth to her bones. It’s weird, how stiff she is, moving only as Jimin moves her – like she’s unanimated, like she’s… “Eomma.” Jimin calls again, this time a little more urgently, pulling himself up from where he’d been lying and starts shaking her a little harder. He’s expecting her to grumble awake and complain at how early it is, and how selfish Jimin’s being for wanting her attention whilst she sleeps… “Eomma!” His voice is rising in octaves as he shakes her and her body flops lifelessly on the bed. There’s no longer any colour on her cheeks, her golden skin is a pale as a ghost, her chest is still, her weak hands have lost the tremble they’ve had over the past weeks..

“EOMMA!” Jimin shouts again, and he’s shaking his mother so hard, her head is lolling painfully about her shoulders. “EOMMA! EOMMA! EOMMA!” Jimin bellows, his breath coming out harshly. There’s sunspots dancing in his vision, his chest is hurting and his hands feel numb. But he continues screaming his mother’s name, as if at any moment she’ll wake up with that bright smile she always has and sooth the panic bubbling in Jimin’s veins. “EOMMA!” He bellows again, and his voice scratches painfully up his throat to rip its way out of his mouth. There are arms wrapping around him, pulling him away from where his mother lays on the bed, lips pressing softly to the skin next to his ear. “Sunshine, it’s okay, it’s alright.” Yoongi breathes, voice sturdy and strong despite the fact it feels like Jimin’s whole world is crumbling around him. But how can it be fine? Nothing about this is fine? He can’t breath, there’s something lodged in his throat stopping him, there’s something clawing at his lungs, ripping them to shreds to the point they’re unusable. He’s gasping on nothing, wrecked cries for his mother dying on his useless tongue, hands reaching out for her despite Yoongi’s tight hold around him, pinning his arms by his sides. This just can’t be happening. There’s supposed to be more time, she’s supposed to grow old in Soojung Halmoni's house reading peacefully in her garden… “Sunshine, breathe, just breathe.” Yoongi chants into his ear and Jimin tries, he really, really tries… but he just can’t. He feels too much and yet nothing all at the same time, and he’s never wished more than in this moment, that he had a switch he could use to flick off his emotions. “You’ve done so well, Sunshine, you’ve been so strong.” Yoongi praises gently, hold tightening in reassurance with every word. “It’s okay to cry now. Let it all out, Sunshine, I’m here, we’re all here.” Jimin feels a sob hiccup on the back of his throat, bottom lip wobbling as he focuses on Yoongi’s words. Lets them echo around his head, eyes blurring as they sober him to the horrifying reality of what’s happening. His eyes never leave the sight of his mother, lifeless on the bed, but probably feeling peaceful for the first time in weeks. “We’ll get through this.” Yoongi adds. Jimin has been holding back tears ever since that phone call from the hospital all those months ago. In the middle of an argument that Jimin doesn’t care about anymore, because nothing, as insignificant as that, matters anymore. He’s been able to wake up every morning and get through the painful days of watching his mother’s health disintegrate, all because she was still there. She was still smiling, still moving, still breathing. But now she’s dead, and Jimin can feel the start of tears that have been accumulating for far too long, gather at the corners of his eyes. “Eomma!” Jimin wails once more through a large gasping breath, before his body crumples like paper in Yoongi’s hold, sobbing heartbrokenly into the room.

____________

Jimin is losing his control on his sanity. His strength has snapped and he’s been crying non-stop for three days. Body curled up against Yoongi, who’s sat holding him as if holding a smashed vase, trying to keep the pieces together without glue. Yoongi doesn’t speak, knows there’s no words he can offer his husband that will make him feel even remotely better. Jimin just lost the only family he’s ever had, his best friend, his confidant, his mother. Jimin wouldn’t even be able to hear comforting words right now, let alone process them. It had taken hours to pry Jimin away from Jisu’s body. The boy clinging tightly to the seams of her clothes, unable to let go of his last string to reality, to his stability. It had taken both Yoongi and Taehyung to manhandle Jimin out of the room, who wailed and screamed like a lost child through the whole thing. Jimin feels broken, like he’s been ripped in parts and stitched back together all wrong because something is missing. He feels cheated and abused unable to rationally grasp the notion that there are merciless dictators out in the world living freely, but his wonderful sweet, kind mother had to die of a brain tumor before reaching 40. She died the way she lived; being too young. It’s just not fair.

____________ After a few days, Jimin stops crying and he’s not sure whether it’s because he’s run out of tears to shed, or whether his body is just too tired. He spends the days wrapped up in blankets on the couch, staring at the wooden flooring, mind not even being able to process background chatter let alone coherent thought. He doesn’t understand how the world continues to move around him, yet he’s stuck stock-still. Like a stone wedged into the side of the river bed as the water flows around him. There’s always someone sat with him, trying to talk to him, get him to say something, anything, but there’s nothing Jimin wants to say. No, scratch that, there’s nothing he can say. Usually it’s Yoongi. His husband pulling his limp body from the couch to wrap him securely in his arms, something Jimin will forever be thankful for. He thinks he’d never be able to grieve as much as he is, if it weren’t for the sheer fact that Yoongi is there to pick up the pieces, to catch Jimin as he falls. “Do you want something to eat?” Yoongi whispers into Jimin’s skin, lips trailing soothingly across his temples and his cheeks. Jimin just stares, eyes stinging from the amount of tears he’s cried. “Will you try and eat something, if not for yourself, at least for me?” Yoongi bargains and Jimin

can’t ignore the desperate plea in his husband’s voice. On any other day, Jimin would be trying his hardest to reassure his love, but there’s a loose wire in his brain connecting his emotions to the rest of his body. Yoongi sighs when all he gets is silence and broken stares from Jimin. He shuffles them around on the couch, so Yoongi is cross-legged with his back resting against the arm. He moves Jimin’s limps like he’s playing with a rag doll, lifting Jimin effortlessly, so the younger can curl up in Yoongi’s lap and rest his head against his chest. “I know you’re broken right now, Sunshine, I know. I’ll never be able to completely comprehend what you’re going through, but I need you to talk to me.” Yoongi begs, hands roaming up and down Jimin’s back, as if soft touches will coax words from Jimin’s mouth. “I need you to talk to me so I can try and understand. Even if it’s just to tell me how sad you are, please, anything.” “I’m sad.” Jimin mumbles, voice coarse and broken after days of tears tearing it up. Yoongi’s grip tightens. “Yeah?” Jimin nods tentatively. “I-“ He begins and he really doesn’t like the sound of his own voice. “I think I’m broken.” “Okay.” Yoongi whispers, lips pressing desperate kisses into Jimin’s temple. As if trying to pass every reassuring and calming notion Yoongi has in his body to Jimin through his lips. “Then, I’ll try my hardest to fix you.” “How?” “By taking things day by day, a little at a time.” Yoongi replies. “Baby steps, Sunshine.” Jimin can feel his lip wobbling as more tears well up in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.” He confesses on a choked sob. Yoongi is shushing him, holding him ever so tightly. “Shh, shh, yes you will.” He reassures. “It may not be today, nor tomorrow, maybe not even within this year. But you’ll be okay again, I promise you that.” “I-I don’t…” Jimin sobs. “Have I ever not followed through on my promise?” Yoongi asks in a semi-stern voice. Jimin shakes his head and Yoongi sighs, “Then there’s no way you can fight me on this one, Sunshine. I promise, one day, you’ll be okay again.” It takes a little while for Jimin to let the words settle on him, but he finds himself nodding in agreement, nuzzling his wet face into Yoongi’s shirt. If it was the fact his mother was still alive that’s been keeping him going these last few weeks, maybe the fact Yoongi is here will get him through the even harsher weeks to come.

____________

Jimin has managed to move himself from the living room to the garden. He pulls two garden chairs out onto the sunny grass, hiding himself away amongst the flowers that his mother so loves,

pretending if just for a moment that they’re both sat there soaking up the sun together. The mixing scents of the garden feel so nostalgic- Familiar in the wake of so much change that’s crashing through his life right now. He hasn’t cried in three days, and Yoongi tells him he’s proud of him every morning Jimin manages to pull himself out of bed. Little achievements. Yoongi’s told him that the funeral is in two days, and if he’s not feeling up for speaking that it’s okay not too. That Yoongi can do it for him, if it’ll make things easier. Jimin thinks that neither situation will make things easier. If he reads a eulogy for his mother he knows he’ll end up crumbling under the devastating reality that this is his final goodbye to her. He’ll worry for the rest of his life that the last words he has to say to her will never be the right ones and, will never be enough. But if he chickens out, and lets Yoongi read it for him, then he’ll forever feel guilty that he couldn’t even hold himself together to give his mother a proper goodbye. He wishes that this isn’t even a choice he has to make. “Hey Jiminie, are you warm enough?” Seokjin asks, running a reassuring hand down Jimin’s arm as he brings another chair up to join him amongst the flowers. Jimin sighs, head lolled back on headrest and eyes closed as he faces the sun. “Yes.” He replies. “That’s good.” Seokjin sighs. “I have something for you.” He explains and his words finally have Jimin opening his eyes to look over at his hyung. Seokjin is holding a small envelope in his hand, Jimin’s name scribbled on the front in familiar elegant writing that has a lump lodging in Jimin’s throat. “I wasn’t sure when would be the best time to give this too you.” Seokjin explains, turning the envelope over in his hands. “It was in with her will, and I was debating giving it to you after the funeral.” He shrugs. “But I think you could use some confidence right now.” Jimin takes the envelope from Seokjin’s hands with shaking fingers, mind racing a mile per minute. Jimin doesn’t know whether he’s ready for this, ready to tear back into the fresh wound in his heart so soon after Yoongi’s began sewing it back up. But he craves anything linked to his mother, no matter how small or how painful it could be. “I’ll give you some privacy.” Seokjin smiles gently, before taking his exit. Jimin bargains with himself that reading the letter is going to be like diving into a cold pool. It’ll sting for just a few seconds, but if he lets himself take time to digest whatever’s inside the envelope, then the initial sting will lessen slowly. He has to keep trying to accept the fact that his mother won’t be coming back, no matter what the envelope holds. He takes a deep breath, then takes the plunge. There’s only one small sheet of paper inside, A5 in size, the colour a faded yellow as if been tainted by the suns rays. It’s a page from a book, one edged jiggered as if his mother ripped the page straight out of the book’s seam. Which is so like her that it has Jimin smiling. ‘The hour of our departure has arrived, and we go our ways-

I to die, and you to live, Which is better only God know. – Plato’ The page reads and Jimin’s hands are shaking around it. He turns it over gently, counting his breathes so as to keep them even. There’s writing on the back, the same elegant font matching the way his name is written on the envelope – the same scrawl his mother has. ‘But I know, that either way, Chick, you’ll do okay. Because I’ll be with you every step of the way ~ ♡ ’

____________ Much like in life, in death, Jisu still finds ways to throw them all through a loop. She has very little requests in regards to how the funeral should go, other than it to be an open invitation, no one to wear black, for her to buried by the sea and for there to be enough wine for everyone to get drunk. Jimin thinks it’s so like his mother and it’s perfect in the wake of how sad it all is. Yerin makes her way down to the house the day before the funeral, dragging Daejung behind her who looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else than heading to a funeral, and Jimin can’t blame him. Whilst Yerin natters Seokjin’s ear off, making sure the eldest has everything covered and sorted, Daejung plonks himself next to Jimin on the sofa heaving a great sigh. He’s dressed in pinstripe navy slacks and a crisp white shirt that pulls tight across his large arms and broad chest. The material is flimsy, and Jimin can see the intricate ink work of his tattoos winding across his pale skin and peeking over the top of his collar. He pulls nervously at his tie, loosening it the tightening it, sticking his fingers under the collar and pulling on it like it’s suffocating him. Jimin’s never seen the man look so, well, flustered. Daejung must sense Jimin’s quiet concern, because it doesn’t take long until he’s turning a reassuring smile on his son-in-law. “I don’t like funerals, death isn’t pretty.” Ironic, considering both Daejung and his son work in the business of death. Jimin furrows his eyebrows, not really understanding what point Daejung is trying to make here. He runs a hand over his greased back hair, making sure not a hair is out of place. “What I mean is, death isn’t pretty in terms of people who don’t deserve it.” “O-oh.” Jimin mumbles not really sure how to process kind words from Daejung. Not that Daejung ever has a bad word to give Jimin, but the two mainly stick to pleasantries when engaged in conversation. This is, well it’s too deep a topic for the type of polite relationship they share. Daejung sighs. “It makes me fidgety being at funerals to people who were claimed unfairly by death. It makes me want to do something about it, to right a wrong that’s been handed unjustly.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “It makes me realise, that no matter how big and influential a person is, how kind and sweet they are, we’re all insignificant in the face of death.” Jimin’s eyes are wide as he listens to Daejung’s little speech, his voice gruff as always, calculative as if he’s spent hours debating the perfect words to use. His hands are balled into fists against his thighs as he runs his tongue over his teeth in disgust and Jimin’s realised that he’s grossly underestimated

Min Daejung. “Park Jisu was one of the better things about this ugly world.” Daejung sighs. “And although it’s an injustice to her memory, I’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.” Jimin nods. “Me too.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls about the two of them, a lull in the conversation that neither of them are quick to pick up, content to just wallow in their shared distress. But then Daejung is resting on of his large, calloused hands on Jimin’s shoulder and squeezing it as gently as a man with overpowering brute strength can do. “For what it’s worth though, I’m so sorry.” It’s the first sorry he’s gotten in the wake of his mother’s passing and he knows it’s not going to be the last. He was ready to feel irritation pick away at his skin with every pitying apology flung his way, because what do they have to be sorry about? It’s not like they had the means to keep his mother alive and chose not too. That’s an issue Jimin has with God. But for some reason the words don't niggle annoyingly at him considering they come from Daejung, they’re oddly wholesome. “Thank you, Daejung.” Jimin returns his kind gesture with a meek smile.

____________

There are few faces mixed amongst the crowd, but Jimin knows them all. From the little old man that used to run the recycle shop in town, to the few colleagues Jisu worked with over the years that Jimin had the pleasure of meeting. Even the pizza guy turned up and Jimin’s not sure whether he wants to laugh at how ridiculous the amount of pizza he mother must have consumed over the years, or cry at how she managed to touch the hearts of everyone she met. He’s hiding at the back of the room, behind a large bouquet of flowers sporting every colour of the rainbow. That was another request; that the service room be filled with as many flowers as it possibly can be before it becomes a fire hazard. Yerin and Yoongi and the rest of his friends are doing there best to greet everyone in the room in Jimin’s absence. Yoongi’s eyes are scanning the crowd in search of him, barely getting to look past a few faces before a griever grabs his attention. Namjoon and Hoseok managed to make their way here for the funeral, wearing their best white suits with crisp yellow ties. They’d chosen the colours because it’s what they associate the most with Jisu, but Jimin likes to think that if his mother were here to witness their fashion faux pas, she’d be heckling them to tell some jokes considering they look so much like a comedy act. Jimin can see Yoongi whispering to Hoseok, clearly telling him to go find Jimin and Jimin finds himself slinking back further against the wall, the flowers now clocking his entire view of the room. Maybe if he stays very still, the wall will swallow him up and he won’t have to go through whatever pain is in store for him over the next few hours. There’s nothing but the dull hum of the crowd as they mill about the room, a few sniffles and sob here and there and Jimin tries his best to tune it out. He’s trying to find some sort of confidence that

he can drag out from the depths of his soul. Even if it’s just a tiny slither, he needs something, anything, to get him through this day. This horrible, horrible day. But then he hears the click, click, clicking of what sounds very much like a zippo-lighter not lighting and it has Jimin turning an irritated glance at the noises way. There’s a man, who looks younger than Jimin thinks he actually is, with a cigarette in his mouth and a grumble in his voice as he tries and fails to get it lit. His hair is bleached blonde, shortly buzzed on his head and there are piercings covering the entirety of his ears. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a faded red graphic T-shirt, which under the sobering circumstances should be highly offensive. But Jimin thinks the guy is pretty much the only one dressed in a way that his mother would be happy with. There’s something about the man that’s familiar, even though Jimin’s certain he’s never seen the guy in his life. There’s whips about his features, about the way he holds himself that Jimin is certain he’s seen before, but he can’t for the life of him think where. “You’re not allowed to smoke in here.” Jimin tells him plainly, and his words have the man snapping his attention to Jimin looking like a rabbit in the headlights. He pulls a cheeky, guilty smile to his lips and slowly pockets the lighter. “Sorry, I smoke when I’m nervous.” He mumbles around the unlit cigarette, before he takes it from his mouth and places it behind his ear. Jimin hums. “I’m not stopping you, you just gotta take it outside.” The guy shrugs. “I suppose it can wait, things about to start anyway.” Jimin chances a peek behind the flowers, eyes immediately locating Yoongi as he stands at the front of the room, worryingly looking for Jimin. Jimin ducks back out of view as soon as Yoongi turns his way. “You hiding from someone?” The guys asks casually. Jimin sighs. “Life.” The guy chuckles leaning back on the wall next to Jimin and kicking his foot up to rest against it. He’s wearing combat boots, and he smell like stale cigarettes and motor oil. “Man, I know that feeling all too well.” He muses, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket. “You smoke?” Jimin narrows his eyes at the packet with an offended glare. “I already told you, you can’t smoke in here…” “For later kid, jeez.” He scoffs. “No, thanks.” Jimin mumbles, turning away from the man. There’s just something about him that’s rubbing him up the wrong way. “Suit yourself.” The guy replies unfazed. “How do you know the decea…” Jimin begins, voice choking on the word and he shakes his head to

keep himself together. The service hasn’t even started yet, the least he can do is hold it together until them. “You asking me how I know Park Jisu?” The guy questions and Jimin only nods in reply. “We go way back.” He explains and it’s the first time Jimin has heard sadness in his voice. “But it’s been a long time since I saw her.” “How long?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. The man whistles. “Oh, I’d say about 24 years or so, give and take.” He explains. “Man, it feels even longer when I say it out loud.” There’s something horrible twisting in Jimin’s gut. “I always wanted to come and see her sooner, you know? But I kept finding excuses not to.” He rubs at the top of his arm; blunt nails scratching into the bare skin below his T-shirt sleeve. “I got a lot to apologize for, kid.” His eyes are staring at the bouquet of flowers hiding them, unblinking as he recalls things Jimin knows nothing off. “And I’m a coward for leaving it until it’s too late.” Jimin spends little more time looking at the details of the man’s face, and piece by piece he fits together the puzzle as to why he looks so familiar. A button nose that he habitually scrunches as he thinks, short stubby hands adorned in silver rings, and he has a tooth that’s ever so slightly crooked in the front of his mouth. “Mochi!” Hoseok’s voice calls, hand clamping down on Jimin’s arm and snapping him out of his staring. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, the minister’s ready to start.” Jimin takes a moment to nod, mind clouding with 50 million thoughts and heart stuttering so fast in his chest he thinks it could very well burst it’s way out of his body. “I’ll go take a seat then.” The man explains, shooting Jimin a small wave before he’s slipping his way out from behind the bouquet. Hoseok has his eyes narrowed as he watches the man leave. “Who was that?” Jimin doesn’t want to answer that question.

____________ Everyone’s been staring at him for three whole minutes, waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t have much to say; in fact he spent the past day worrying about how little he has to say that he ended up memorizing the whole thing. So why isn’t he talking? Yoongi is standing next to him, arms wrapped around him, fingers dancing softly up and down his arm and tingling Goosebumps along his skin. Yoongi is the only thing stopping Jimin from collapsing onto the floor and crying. Yoongi is the strength and confidence that he’s so surly lacking and though he’s thankful for having him here, there’s still a lump lodged painfully in the back of his throat. “Deep breath.” Yoongi whispers as he kisses the top of Jimin’s head. “You can do this.” Jimin does as he’s told.

Closes his eyes, and breathes. “My mother was always a woman who knew what to say.” Jimin begins on an exhale take of air. “Unfortunately, it’s a trait that wasn’t passed down to me.” Yoongi squeezes him reassuringly, praising and encouraging him to keep going. “Even on a good day, I struggle with the right thing to say. And in the heat of the moment, I’ll say things that I’ll regret later. Or I’ll look back on my words and wish I could have said something different.” He takes another deep breath. “There are no amount of words I can say to tell you just how amazing my mother is. No combination of words that can justly portray to you the strong, selfless, kind, bright, wonderful being that is Park Jisu.” Jimin takes in another breath, stutters this time as he tries to hold back his tears. “So I thought I’d take a page out of one of the many books she so loves, and read you a poem from The Iliad.” He chuckles. “Because nothing screams more like mother more than Greek literature.” The room chuckles amongst their tears and it gives Jimin just a little more confidence to carry on. He exhales another long breath and shakes his head. “Alright Eomma, lend me some strength to get through this.” He mutters to himself, just loud enough for Yoongi to hear and his husband places another kiss to the top of Jimin’s head. “Take your time.” Yoongi reassures. “The gods envy us.” Jimin begins, voice wobbling as he tries to make it as loud as possible. “They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.” He turns his eyes onto the simple brown casket that holds his mother; it’s the first time he’s brought himself to look at it since he walked into the room. “You will never be lovelier than you are now.” He tells her, just her. The rest of the room are simply lucky to able to hear the words Jimin has for his mother. “You will never be here again.” Jimin is choking on a sob now. “My heart hurts so much Eomma. But I know, that a heart that’s broke is heart that’s been loved.” Yoongi is squeezing him so tightly; Jimin knows it’s the only thing keeping him together. “And I know, that the day you left, heaven welcomed you back with open arms. Because I was lucky enough, to have an angel as my mother.”

Chapter End Notes

This chapter, is a very difficult chapter, both in reading and in writing it. But the reason I included the death of a minor character is because there are specific themes that we all must learn to deal with as adults and I really wanted to explore them through Yoongi and Jimin's unconventional relationship. Themes such as love, marriage, stress of jobs, children and sadly, but most importantly; death. I wont go into too much detail here about all the ins and outs for why I wrote this, but I understand you may have questions or want to chat about it, so please do message me if you want to hear all my AU notes around the chapter!

I wrote the majority of this in Starbucks trying really hard not to ball my eyes out! ( ˃̶᷄ ﹏ ˂̶᷄ )ﾟ I LOVE JISU SO MUCH! SHE'S MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER AND I'M SO SAD I HAD TO DO THIS AAAA!! Also, I'm writing this note with a bandage on my finger cos I cut myself pealing potatoes SO I'M GONNA CUT THIS SHORT! hmu♥ on the twitter! I'm always around for a chat, and I love hearing from you! PLUS I LOVE HAVING PEOPLE TO SCREAM WITH ABOUT KPOP!! Shout out to my partner in crime Phoebe who's going up in the world^^ Thanks for always reading my stuff and being my number one hype girl~ IM SORRY GUYS!

People Scare Me Chapter Summary

Jimin's not sure to what lengths Yoongi would go through to protect him, and he's not sure whether he wants to find out.

Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes

2 years ago Jimin has been sat at his kitchen table for the past three hours, glaring daggers at a letter that he doesn’t want to open. It’s a pretty basic, inconspicuous looking letter, A4 sized, brown, his name printed on the front instead of written and it’s been taped closed rather than stuck down. But Jimin knows that the contents are anything but basic and inconspicuous. He sighs for what feels like the 8th time in the past three minutes and turns the envelope over. He glares at the taped opening and pulls his lips into a thin line before throwing the thing back onto the table. He’s been repeating this same sequence of moves ever since he got back from Uni and found the letter sitting in his mailbox. He’s surprised he’s managing to keep himself together this year. In the previous years when this same letter came through, he’d fling himself into his room, away from prying eyes and worried questions and break down into a blubbering mess, pushing himself over the edge and into a full blown panic attack. He doesn’t know how he’s managing to stay so calm, but he is, and he’s proud of that at least. “Chim!” Taehyung calls, bashing his way into the apartment with as much noise as he can possibly muster. Jimin practically jumps out of his skin at the noise, eyes snapping over to the clock in utter confusion as to why Taehyung’s home so early. But according to the kitchen clock, that reads 7:15pm exactly, Taehyung’s home right on time and Jimin has spent three hours staring at a letter. “You home or did the Mob Boss come for you yet?” He bellows, practically skipping into the room. Jimin, in a moment of panic, snatches the letter off the table and scurries to his feet, feeling very much like a mouse that’s been caught in the cheese cupboard. Taehyung stops abruptly in the hallway as he watches Jimin bolt out of his chair like he’s been electrocuted. “You okay there?” Jimin coughs down a lump in his throat, pushing the letter up the sleeve of his oversized red sweater as inconspicuous as possible. “Perfectly fine.” He snaps back a little too quickly. Taehyung cocks a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Jimin, seeing right through him as always, and Jimin feels about 2 inches tall.

Taehyung’s looking very much like the talented model that many agencies are currently fighting over. Sporting a tight fitting black high neck top, tucked into flared white pants with small black pinstripes that have clearly been stolen off the rack at his shoot for the day. His hair is a vibrant red, a new change that Taehyung thinks is too ostentatious for his personality, whereas Jimin really begs to differ. Jimin smiles curtly at his best friend, who in turn is smirking knowingly back. There’s silence in their little kitchen nook whilst the two stare each other down in a silent conversation with no end game. Because Jimin’s not going to break down and give into his best friend’s nosy ways, not this time. “What have you got…” “Nothing.” Jimin cuts Taehyung’s inquisition short and moves from where he’s standing awkwardly by the kitchen table and over the fridge. “Do you want me to cook you something before Yoongi comes to get me?” Jimin can hear the scrapping of a chair across the floor before Taehyung dramatically flops into it, a loud long sigh pushing past his lips. “What a good waifu you are, makes me want to fight Yoongi for your hand in marriage.” Jimin splutters. “We’re not engaged!” “Give it a month or so, I bet you anything you want that you will be.” Jimin just knows that Taehyung is wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively. He spins on his heels. “What makes you think that? We’ve only been dating a few years.” Taehyung makes a loud ‘pshhh’ noise. “Please, the way he looks at you, like he’s ready to take a bullet for you at any second. No wait…” Taehyung furrows his eyebrows shuffling around on his chair to get into a comfier position. “It’s more like, he’s willing to take a bullet for you. I know he deals with guns and shit on a regular basis, but no one wants to get shot. Yet I can see it in his eyes, he would, willingly, get shot for you.” “Please don’t talk like that, I feel like you’re tempting fate.” Jimin is half flushing half panicking. “Besides, what’s all that got to do with whether or not he’s gonna propose?” Taehyung sighs, “If you don’t already know the answer to that, then what the hell are you doing in a relationship with a Mafia boss?” Jimin shrinks in on himself a little; he thinks the same thing everyday. Thankfully, the doorbell chimes; cutting off Jimin’s descent into his anxious riddled mind before it even starts. He’s feeling a little more sorry for himself than usual. He feels like a walking, ticking time bomb, just waiting for the wrong thing to be said to him, and he’ll just explode. Basically, he feels ridiculously self-conscious. “I’ll just get that then shall I?” Taehyung offers, eyes watching Jimin carefully before he slips out of his chair and towards the door. Jimin lets out a long-winded sigh, falling back to rest against the counter. He lets his eyes shut for just a second, and lets his stressful mind fall blank if only for a brief few minutes. “What up Mob Man?” Taehyung greets peppy and loud.

“Jesus, do you ever shut up?” Yoongi snaps back and something about his voice just washes a sense of calm and tranquil over Jimin’s body. It’s been a whole two weeks since he last saw Yoongi. With the end of the year coming upon them speedily, Jimin has had nothing but end of year exams at Uni and Yoongi has had nothing but last minute ‘business endeavors’ that Jimin knows are anything but innocent – yet asks nothing off. They’re supposed to be spending the whole weekend at Yoongi’s, locked away from the outside world, just the two of them and Jimin hadn’t realised just how much he’d been in need of some tender love and care from his boyfriend until now. He’s frayed like a wire, used and abused and ready to snap. He’s barely slept in days, pulling last minute cramming study sessions, he’s eaten the bare minimum, drank nothing but coffee to keep him going and there’s a stinging headache pinching behind his temples. Nothing melting away into Yoongi’s arms won’t fix. “Nahh, got too much to say to be quiet.” Taehyung replies. Jimin can just imagine the way Yoongi’s clicking his tongue at Taehyung as he slips his shoes off. “That’s not always a good thing ya know?” “I don’t think I remember asking for your opinion, but thanks anyway.” Taehyung replies before the sound of socked feet pad their way into the kitchen. Suddenly Jimin is very much aware of the fact the letter is weighing heavily in his sleeve, the sharp edges jabbing into his skin and if he doesn’t get rid of it quick, it’s going to cause a problem that Jimin doesn’t want to deal with. Yoongi will be all over him as soon as he spots Jimin, because even though Yoongi likes to pretend that he’s cold as a stone, he’s just as in need of recharging tactile comfort from Jimin as Jimin is from Yoongi. He’ll find the hidden letter within seconds. Jimin flings open one of the draw they keep the takeaway menus, throws the disgusting letter in it and quickly slams it shut before the Daegu boys’ bickering fills the kitchen. “Jiminie, tell your boyfriend not to disrespect me in my castle.” Taehyung whines like a small child. Jimin is back to leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “I’m sorry, did you just refer to this shitty little place as your castle?” He scoffs. Taehyung nods, clearly not seeing the funnier side to his words. “A man’s home is his castle, Chim. I wouldn’t be pulling the same shit Yoongles-hyung is doing to me in his home.” Yoongi rolls his eyes on a snort, pushing past Taehyung and making a beeline straight for Jimin. “But you do though.” Taehyung makes an over dramatic gasp, hand coming up to cover his heart. “I do not.” Jimin giggles, arms automatically opening for Yoongi. “Yes you do.” He counters. Yoongi slips between Jimin’s arms, wrapping his own tight around the small of Jimin’s back, whilst Jimin wraps his around Yoongi’s broad shoulders. “Hello, stranger.” He greets with a content smile. “Sunshine.” Yoongi greets, not wasting another second before he’s leaning in to kiss Jimin desperately and deeply.

Jimin can taste just how much Yoongi had missed him on his tongue. The way it barely waits before it swipes across Jimin’s lower lip, asking permission to enter. Jimin gives in easily, he always does with Yoongi, it’s so easy to do. The man is just so dominating in the best of ways. Knowing exactly what Jimin needs without even asking, and all too soon Jimin’s body is practically limp in his boyfriend’s arms. “Jesus Christ, we eat in there you animals.” Taehyung mock scolds from the kitchen table. Yoongi pulls away with a little growl of annoyance, but Jimin just peppers more kisses across his boyfriend’s cheeks to placate him. “I missed you.” He whispers in the space between them. Yoongi’s grip tightens. “God, me too.” He whispers back. “You ready to go?” Jimin pulls a guilty looking smile across his face. “Not exactly, I haven’t packed yet.” Yoongi cocks his head at Jimin, eyebrows narrowing ever so slightly. He looks good, really good. Better than Jimin’s memory will ever do him justice. He’s clearly come straight from work, dressed in his standard sleek black suit, white shirt and a baby blue tie that Jimin recognises as the one he gave him for his birthday this year. A softer shade for his typical wardrobe of harsh and dark tones. “Didn’t you get out your last exam at 4?” He asks, worry lacing his voice. It really is unlike Jimin not to be prepared and ready to go, he’s always been organised, a trait learnt from having a sweet but harebrained mother. Taehyung chuckles from the table. “He was doing something shady.” He offers unhelpfully. Jimin glowers at him. “I was not.” “You were too jittery to not be.” Taehyung justifies. Yoongi’s grip tightens around Jimin’s waist once more, pulling him in closer. “Sunshine, what’s wrong?” Jimin defensively pushes himself out of Yoongi’s grip shaking his head. “Nothing, I’m perfectly fine. It’ll only take me a few minutes to pack, I’ll be quick.” He explains, feeling the thin wire of his nerves fray just a little bit more. He bolts from the kitchen nook to his room at top speed, shutting the door quickly behind him – the universal Jimin sign that he doesn’t want to talk about it. He stares blankly at his tidy room for all of 10 seconds before he’s scurrying around collecting everything he needs and throwing it into a duffle bag. He goes through the motions of packing mechanically, like a robot trained to do the same routine over and over again. Why is he making this out to be such a big deal still? It’s been a good few years, he doesn’t have to answer the letter – it’s not a mandatory thing. He’s passed the bad years, the years his brain referred to as the ‘dark times’. He never has to relive them ever again if he doesn’t want to – he knows this. Yet why does it still bother him, this letter than he should just throw away without a second thought? Why is he giving it a second thought? Why is he so weak? He stamps down that last thought like the dying embers of a campfire, flings his badly packed backpack over his shoulder and slinks his way back into the kitchen. The apartment is oddly quiet, in a way that’s terribly disturbing considering he’d left Taehyung and Yoongi alone together – and if

the two aren’t bickering one can only assume the worse. Jimin cautiously walks back into the kitchen to find the Daegu boys just, staring at each other. Passing secrets between them that has Jimin worrying. “Why so quiet?” He asks. Taehyung is nursing a cup of hot coffee in his hands, eyes still unwavering from Yoongi’s. “Yoongles-hyung’s voice was making me nauseous.” Taehyung supplies with a cheeky smirk. Yoongi proceeds to kick him under the table before turning to Jimin. “Are you ready to go Sunshine?” Jimin stretches out his hand for Yoongi in reply, sighing contently when he feels the warmth from his boyfriend’s skin beneath his touch. Sometimes, Jimin thinks his body and mind crave Yoongi like a drug – and he’s not sure whether that’s a good thing, or an incredibly terrifying thing. He’s never been so dependent on anyone before in his life, it’s a dangerous way to live, balancing on the blade of a knife, but Jimin doesn’t know how to stop.

____________

“I made reservations at that Italian restaurant you love so much.” Yoongi explains as they sit quietly in the back of Yoongi’s town car. There’s pleasant piano music filtering from the front, something Jimin has come to associate purely with Yoongi’s driver, Lee. Jimin’s never really experience more than a few polite words passed between himself and Lee, but the man is always attentive to Jimin’s mood without the need to even ask him. Piano music is his default subtly way of trying to help Jimin relax, he really does appreciate it. Yoongi’s pulled Jimin as close to his side as humanly possible whilst they’re both still restrained in seat belts. His long, slender fingers are pushing back Jimin’s orange locks in tender and soothing movements. Jimin’s head is nestled against Yoongi’s shoulders, eyes serenely closed at the heavenly contact. He can feel his worries and fears slowly easing away with each stroke through of his hair, he knew all he needed was some contact and attention from his boyfriend to start feeling more like himself again. “Whatever you want.” Jimin mumbles, feeling like he could very well fall asleep under Yoongi’s soothing ministraitions. Yoongi chuckles, leaning as gently as he can closer into Jimin’s space and kissing his temple. “Have you been sleeping properly?” Jimin chuckles, cheeks heating up from the lingering lips pressed against them. “Does it look like I have been?” Yoongi sighs. “You should take better care of yourself.” He chides lightly. Jimin doesn’t answer, just melts more into Yoongi’s side, finally feeling some peace after weeks of stress. He knows there’s not much longer left to struggle through exams and essay writing, his University time is drastically drawing to a close - but Jimin’s not sure whether he’s happy or sad about that just yet. Everything’s changing so rapidly around him, change doesn’t sit well with him.

Yoongi continues to run his fingers through Jimin’s hair the entire car journey to the restaurant. Jimin’s pretty certain he falls asleep at some point, body twisted at a slightly uncomfortable angle so he can throw his legs over Yoongi’s lap. He’s so contentedly happy to just be surrounded by all things Yoongi again, that the uncomfortable angle means nothing to him. His body recharging itself after practically running on empty. Yoongi, easily sensing Jimin’s need for tactile comfort and reassurance, keeps his other hand securely yet gently wrapped around Jimin’s thigh, stroking gently along it and squeezing it every now and then , just in a reminder that he’s there - he’s not going anywhere. Jimin can feel the car come to a soft stop outside the restaurant and Jimin feels a bratty, childish side consume him. His lips pull into a pout, knowing he has to get up and out of Yoongi’s embrace, but he’s really struggling to find the willpower to do so. Yoongi leans down to pepper kisses across Jimin’s face. Smooth warm lips trailing pathways over his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and the corners of his mouth. “Sunshine,” He whispers so softly into Jimin’s skin that it causes Jimin to shudder. “It’s time to wake up.” Jimin hums twisting his face to hide in Yoongi’s chest. “Will you carry me inside?” He teases, wrapping his arms around Yoongi, clinging himself as tightly to his boyfriend’s side as humanly possible. “You know I will, Sunshine.” Yoongi replies easily without a hint of teasing lilting his voice. “But do you really want me to carry you into a public restaurant with all eyes watching you?” His lips are right by Jimin’s ear, nipping at the lobe and it makes Jimin shiver incessantly. “God, I really missed you.” Jimin breathes removing his head from Yoongi’s chest to crash their lips together. It’s a rare day that the couple find Jimin initiating anything remotely non PG 13 in public, for the sheer fact that Jimin’s shyer and timid nature won’t allow for it. In fact, during their 2 year relationship, Jimin’s pretty certain he can count on one hand the times he threw himself at his boyfriend for the world to see - and everytime was a result of Jimin being overwhelmed by too many emotions. This time is no different. “Sunshine…” Yoongi breathes heavily into his mouth, getting only a small moment to breath before Jimin is crashing their lips together again. His hands are tugging at the black strands of Yoongi’s hair, pulling him closer to Jimin as if trying to be utterly and completely consumed by the man he loves so much. Jimin feeds moans into Yoongi’s mouth, unbuckling his seatbelt with swift movements so he can slip himself over Yoongi’s lap and into a more comfortable position. “Sunshine…” Yoongi tries again, voice a little more forceful, but the tight grip of his hands around Jimin’s waist betrays the sensible mentality that Jimin knows he’s in right now. Jimin just smirks against his lovers lips, tongue deepening in their kiss as he rocks down on Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi breaks away from their kiss shucking a hiss through his lips. “Baby, baby..” He placates as Jimin lets a needy whine escape his own lips. “We’re treading dangerous waters here.” Jimin smirks through a playful shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yoongi’s tongue darts out to wet his dry lips, chest rising and falling heavily as he tries to collect himself. He pins Jimin with a knowing look, a look that makes Jimin feel practically naked in front of

his boyfriend. Yoongi can see right through him, and it has Jimin feeling uneasy. “We’ve already been in this situation once.” Yoongi explains, moving one of his hands from Jimin’s hips. He gently takes up Jimin’s hand from where it’s resting against Yoongi’s chest, and raises it to his lips to kisses his knuckles. Yoongi’s lips linger against the skin to bring tingling pinpricks of heat to the surface and Jimin finds himself worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I thought we agreed to not be in this situation again.” Jimin shrugs, feeling a little defensive. “Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend whom I haven’t seen in a good few weeks?” Yoongi lowers Jimin’s hand from his mouth, long fingers rubbing soothing circles into Jimin’s skin. “You can kiss me as much as you want.” Yoongi supplies. There’s a cheeky grin playing across Jimin’s lips again. “Then shut up and let me.” He half whispers, leaning forward to catch Yoongi’s bottom lip between his teeth. Yoongi’s hands tighten around Jimin’s waist and hand, body stiffening under Jimin and it has him pulling away from Yoongi like he’s been burnt. Jimin’s panically searching in Yoongi’s dark feline eyes, of which are currently pulled into a serious expression - a half concerned half warning look and Jimin feels dread and sickening rejection pooling in his stomach. Yoongi never rejects him, not this adamantly and obviously anyway. “Sunshine.” Yoongi begins calculatedly, voice reminding Jimin of the numerous times he’s listened in on Yoongi’s business calls. Calm and distant, nothing like the soft and tender way he usually talks to Jimin. “Is there something you need to tell me?” He asks. Jimin feels like he just wants to scream. Because of course Yoongi knows he’s not okay, that something is bothering him, weighing down on him like a ton of bricks and fucking his mind up five ways to sunday. Of course Yoongi knows that Jimin is feeling more than a little anxious, more than a little panicky, more than a little sorry for himself. Because Yoongi can see through every facade and mask that Jimin plays across his face. Yoongi reaches his hands up to push away Jimin’s hair from his face again, a few strands flopping into his eyes. But Jimin jolts his head away from the touch, feeling very much on the verge of exploding. “Sunshine.” Yoongi sounds hurt, sounds worried. But Jimin’s brain is screaming at him, flinging painful words around his skull that make JImin’s stomach churn. All he wanted was to lose himself in Yoongi’s touch, drown in the kindness and the love that his boyfriend usually showers him in. Build himself up from the low point he’s currently found himself in, be the Park Jimin that Yoongi fell in love with. But Yoongi rejected him. Yoongi pushed him away. And although Jimin knows that, rationally, it’s because he’s worried for him, Jimin is too consumed with the worst traits and aspects of his demons, and nothing about this situation is comforting to Jimin. ‘Does he really want you? No one would want you, remember?’ Jimin pushes himself off Yoongi’s lap, pulling a weak smile to his lips that he knows wouldn't fool a stranger in the street let alone his attentive boyfriend. But it’s all he can manage right now, all he can muster against the screaming paranoia and anxiety raging around in his head.

“I’m hungry.” Jimin announces, plonking his ass back on the seat next to Yoongi so he can shuffle over to the door. “Will you split a dessert with me?” He flutters his eyelashes at Yoongi, his heart battling against his brain - wanting to keep Yoongi chasing after him just so that Jimin knows his boyfriend loves him as much as Jimin does him. Yoongi’s face is purposefully blank, composed in a skillful way that comes with years of dealing with business endeavours alongside dirtier, darker deals. Yoongi’s poker face is the smoothest and calmest of all masks, and Jimin just knows that the look probably does a good job at instilling panic in Yoongi’s enemies. Because right now, Jimin can feel panic on his tongue - he knows Yoongi isn’t happy, isn’t buying what Jimin’s selling and isn’t going to sit by and not say anything irregardless of Jimin’s flippant attitude. “Of course, Sunshine.” Yoongi finally answers after what feels like a lifetime of the two of them just staring at each other. “Whatever you want.” ___________

Fuck, Jimin is a mess. He’s putting all this down to a mixture of lack of sleep and increase of stress over the last two weeks, as well as a particularly daunting letter that’s sitting in one of the drawers of his kitchen, but is constantly niggling at the back of his mind. But right now, the cute female waitress, with her terribly bleached blonde hair and flawlessly smooth porcelain skin, is fluttering her eyelashes at his boyfriend and Jimin wants nothing more than to slam her face into the table. Yoongi is barely looking her way, oblivious to the heart eyes she’s throwing at him, too busy looking at the menu as he dictates to her their order. But Jimin isn’t oblivious to it in the slightest. He can see every subtle flick of her hair and lingering stare. He can see the way she’s leaning just a little closer than necessary into Yoongi’s space and the fake giggles she’s lacing into her usual professional script as she writes down their order. It’s nauseating and irritating and it has Jimin’s fingers tapping away somewhat furiously on the table. “Did I miss something?” Yoongi asks and it takes Jimin a little while to remove his eyes from where they’ve been burning holes into the side of the waitress’ face. Yoongi’s watching the way Jimin’s fingers drum into the table, sharp, loudly and rhythmically and Jimin’s not surprised he hasn’t punched holes into the wood. He stops, pulling his hands off the table to rest in his lap. “Nope, that’s everything.” He replies, punctuating his words by sending one last glare the waitress’ way. She’s too busy gawking at Jimin’s boyfriend however, to understand the social cue that she should leave now. Yoongi hums, turning back to the waitress as he snaps the menu closed. “That’ll be everything, thank you Lisa.” She flushes a violent red that’s so easily seen through the thick layer of foundation she’s wearing and Jimin’s mouth twists into a thin line. The waitress giggles, taking the menu from Yoongi’s hand and tucking it under her arm. “Of course, Min-ssi.” She replies, swishing her hair as she turns on her heels to scurry away. Jimin watches her leave, hoping that maybe fate will deal him a good hand, and the girl will trip over her own feet and smash her pretty face into the pretty wooden flooring.

“Green isn’t a good colour on you, Sunshine.” Yoongi comments, snapping Jimin back into the moment. Jimin takes a few seconds to stare blankly at his boyfriend’s face as it twists into a mirth-ridden smile. Jimin huffs, reaching out for his water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replies as smoothly as possible. Yoongi titters a little patronisingly before reaching out for his own glass of water. “Of course you don’t.” Jimin swirls a mouthful of water around in his mouth, mentally counting to ten in an attempt to try and curb the ugly feelings that are currently clouding his brain. This isn’t usually like him, he’s never gotten jealous over Yoongi before, there’s never been a need too. Yoongi’s far too consumed by Jimin for the younger to even entertain the mere thought of being jealous. Jimin sighs, placing the glass back on the table. “Sorry.” He mumbles, eyes watching the ice clink in the water. “What for?” Yoongi asks calmly, unprying. Jimin sighs again, running one of his fingers around the rim of the glass. “I dunno it’s just…” “I brought your wine, Min-ssi!” The waitress announces, cutting their conversation off short. Any thoughts Jimin had about pouring his anxiety riddled worries onto Yoongi suddenly dies on his tongue. Yoongi doesn’t look away from Jimin’s face as he address the waitress, but that’s fine, because Jimin is angrily pinning her a curt glare for the both of them. “Thank you, Lisa, I think only I’ll be drinking today.” The waitress hums, uncorking the bottle and pouring the wine into Yoongi’s awaiting glass with perfect silver service precision. “Is that not lonely, sir? Drinking alone?” She asks and god, if it doesn’t just make Jimin’s blood boil. Jimin clicks his tongue tapping his empty wine glass in a manner that is nothing but rude. “Actually, I’ll have a glass, thanks.” He practically spits the waitress’ way. Her head snaps over to Jimin from where she’s been not so subtly ogling at Yoongi, and she looks surprised to see him there, as if she’d completely forgotten his entire existence. Which does nothing in the girls favour, that’s for certain. Jimin’s pretty much on the mindset he doesn't like this waitress, and usually Jimin never judges anyone before he gets to know them. “Do you think that’s wise?” Yoongi asks, swirling the red wine in his glass. Jimin cuts him a narrow glare. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Yoongi sighs. “Sunshine…” Jimin just taps his glass again to get the waitress’ attention once more. “Ignore my boyfriend.” He explains, putting emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’. Of which blows the waitress’ eyes wide in sudden understanding and Jimin is more than a little smug that his pettiness is paying off. People are incredibly slow when they’re blind to what they don’t want to see, even if it’s right in front of them. The waitress flushes, this time more so in mortification, and sets about pouring the wine into Jimin’s glass, eyes trained on the task at hand. Jimin feels a smug satisfaction as he takes his newly poured

drink into his hands. “Is there anything ….” The waitress begins, eyes shyly snapping back to Yoongi. “Nope, that’ll be all thanks.” Jimin answers snappily on both their behalves and it has the waitress jumping a little at the sudden harsh tone. She gives a small bow, no cute smile on her face nor flirtatious flick of her hair as she leaves, and Jimin leans back in his chair, sipping smugly on his wine as he watches her run away. “Was that really necessary?” Yoongi asks with a pointed look on his face, but Jimin just shrugs innocently. Jimin can see that the answer doesn’t sit well with Yoongi, but he takes a deep breath, pushing down the need to interrogate Jimin further and moves past it. A wise move, Jimin’s jealousy-riddled brain approves of. “So, how did your last exams go?” Yoongi asks, clearly hoping this is a safer topic of conversation than everything else he’s attempted with Jimin tonight. Jimin shrugs again, sipping on his wine like it’s water, he knows he’s going to regret it later but can’t find it in himself to care. His brain is struggling to care about a lot of things that Jimin knows he should right now, and that just makes him want to down more of the mind-numbing alcohol he knows he can’t tolerate. “They’re exams, they went as well as exams can go.” Jimin sighs, slumping his head back against the chair rest. He’s very well aware that there are more than a few stares being thrown their way in the semi-packed restaurant. Everyone in Seoul knows the famously terrifying Min Yoongi, and as is human nature, are all more than a little nosy as to what he’s doing. Jimin knows he should be sat more appropriately for the fancy restaurant Yoongi’s taken him to, knows that if Yerin were to see how badly he’s behaving in public right now she’d fearlessly smack him around the head. Jimin’s with Yoongi, he’s supposed to be an extension of the man, and put out a good impression to the general public. ‘Another reason you’re not the right match for him.’ Jimin runs the palm of his hand over his face, almost dropping his entire glass of wine onto his lap. Having a brain that’s currently spending most of its time tearing Jimin’s already fragile selfconfidence to shreds is making him feel sick. “Sunshine?” Yoongi asks, voice closer than Jimin expected it to be. He pulls his face out of his hand and sees Yoongi leaning across the table, long fingers slipping the wine glass away from Jimin. “What’s the matter?” He asks softly and it squeezes Jimin’s heart. He doesn’t know, he really doesn’t know what’s wrong. He thought he was over this, thought he’d moved passed it and become stronger. But he guesses he’s still as weak as he was in highschool. Jimin just stares at Yoongi, falls into his dark eyes and drowns in the caring look his boyfriend is sending him. He should talk to Yoongi, tell him everything that’s swirling around in his head even if it doesn’t make all that much sense right now. But talking is how they cope and right now, Jimin is really, really not coping. He needs Yoongi to show him that he’s being ridiculous, that all his dark thoughts are just that, dark thoughts and completely untrue. He needs Yoongi to build him back up from the husk of a person he’s shrunk himself down to be. He needs Yoongi to tell him that his insecure thoughts are wrong, needs Yoongi to show him. “Kiss me.” Jimin asks, but it’s more like a plea, a desperate cry for help.

Yoongi’s eyebrows narrow and he rounds the table in quick step until he’s standing next to Jimin’s chair. He cradles Jimin’s face gently in his hands and leans down to plant a chaste kiss right on Jimin’s plump pouting lips. It’s sweet, it’s caring and it’s calming. Jimin wants to cry. Yoongi pulls away, Jimin’s eyes still closed as he relishes in his boyfriend’s touch. Yoongi lets his fingertips gently wonder across Jimin’s face, tenderly tracing patterns into the skin. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s concerned gaze on him, can feel the worry radiating off of him and it makes Jimin feel so much smaller than he already is. “Sunshine, what’s the matter?” Yoongi asks and his voice is so heartbreakingly quiet. Jimin can feel tears prick at his eyes but he swallows them down and turns his face to plant a small kiss to Yoongi’s palm. “Don’t worry.” Yoongi’s fingers twitch slightly against his face. “You know I won’t do that.” “I’ll be better soon, just, just keep loving me.” Jimin whispers, hands reaching up to grip tightly onto Yoongi’s wrists. “I’ll never stop loving you, Sunshine. Where did you get the notion I would?” Yoongi replies quickly. Jimin sighs, finally opening his eyes to look at Yoongi, all tears saved from falling. “What do you love about me, Yoongi?” He asks. If Yoongi’s surprised by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it, famously good poker-face still intact. “So many things that we would be here all night if I were to list them.” He explains and Jimin feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest. “Why are you asking me? Do I not show you enough, how much I love you?” ‘It’s hard to see the logic in his love for you, when you’re just… Park Jimin.’ Jimin winces. “I mean, you could have anyone in the world.” Jimin begins, eyes dropping to look at the floor. “Why pick someone like me who…” “Don’t finish that sentence.” Yoongi snaps, fingers sliding down to grab Jimin’s chin and yank his face up to look him in the eye. “Because I don’t think I’m going to like how you’re going to end it.” Jimin shrinks under his words snatching his chin out of Yoongi’s grip and turning away from the man. “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is soft but there’s a harsh warning in it. “The food will be here soon.” Jimin replies curtly, ultimately cutting the conversation off. Yoongi sighs, “Okay.” He replies before heading back to his side of the table. ___________

They eat in silence, Jimin not even bothering to look at Yoongi while he eats. Not that he eats very much, maybe three mouth fulls of the lasagne Yoongi ordered for him, knowing it’s his favorite dish on the menu here. Jimin’s stomach is a swirling mess, his hands are restlessly fidgeting in his lap and his anxiety is pulling at a horrible tension headache behind the back of his eyes. He people-watches, seeing people from all walks of life sitting around them and tries to find some sense of normality

within the hurricane of emotions that are currently controlling his body. He feels weak and useless. He thought he’d gotten over this, he left all that bad shit behind, back in high school knowing he never has to go back to that torment again. He’s spent the last few years after his escape being showered with affection by his mother, Taehyung and Seokjin and being smothered in love he never thought he’d find by Yoongi. So why does all the hard work he’s put into himself, and others have invested in him, come crumbling down at the mere sight of a letter he doesn’t even have to respond to? As soon as Yoongi finishes his meal, he’s snatching the bill from the table and downing the last of his wine. They say nothing as they gather their things and head to the till to pay. They walk with a sizable difference between them, neither of them bothering to reach out for the other like they usually do. Jimin can hear the soothing piano music louder than usual from the back of Yoongi’s town car. They sit pretty much on opposite ends of the back seat and Jimin feels more like they’re opposing magnetic forces. In fact, it’s not until the front door closes to Yoongi’s gangnam penthouse suit that something it uttered between them. Jimin thinks it’s probably the longest they’ve gone without talking to each other, even though they’re sharing the same space. He blames himself, it’s because he’s closing himself off pushing Yoongi away when he should be reaching out for his boyfriend, asking for support, for help. ‘Help you’re not worthy of.’ Yoongi takes up his hand as they make their way down the corridor towards the main room and the sudden contact makes Jimin jump. But he doesn’t fight off Yoongi’s touch, just allows himself to be led wherever the hell Yoongi wants to take him. He’s feeling too tired to try and fight against anything right now, he just wants to sleep. Curl up in bed under the covers and sleep until he’s numb to all this negativity that’s destroying his mentality. Yoongi drags Jimin towards the couch and gently pushes him to sit down, taking his own seat on the coffee table in front of him. “Alright.” He finally says, sighing through the word like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders - and all that does is just make Jimin feel even more like a burden. “Talk to me.” Jimin shrugs, eyes filtering to look out the large windows into the inky black of the night beyond the apartment. He can see his own reflection in the window and he really doesn’t like what he sees. He hasn’t hated his reflection like this in a good long while, it’s a sickening feeling he wishes to forget. “No, look at me.” Yoongi orders, but his voice is soft, patient even though Jimin can tell he’s anything but. Jimin does as he’s told, turning back to see the broken face of his boyfriend, wrought with worry. Jimin’s not sure whether he hates looking at himself in the mirror more than he hates seeing Yoongi worry over him. “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” He asks, hands twitching in his lap like he’s restraining himself from reach out and touching Jimin. Jimin can feel tears in his eyes again. “I-I don’t know.” He mumbles, and he’s not lying, he really doesn’t know what’s wrong, why he’s feeling so anxious, so dark. Yoongi hums, clearly seeing the conflicting thoughts and emotions awash Jimin’s face. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small A4 letter that has Jimin’s breath catching painfully in his throat, eyes wide.

“Does it have something to do with this?” Yoongi asks carefully, resting the letter on his knees. Jimin can’t breathe. His lungs are squeezing tight, entrapping all the air that his body has collected, his throat closing shut to prevent more intake of air and his head is spinning from the lack of oxygen. He’s never fallen so quickly into a panic attack before, never lost the ability to breath so badly, and the panic that flares in his veins only serves to make the whole situation worse. He’s not sure how long he sits there, eyes blown, unblinking and watering as they stare at the offending letter placed on his boyfriend’s lap. He’s going to pass out, his vision is blurring and he can’t feel his arms, or his hands. “Sunshine, Sunshine!” Yoongi is calling him and yet Jimin can’t hear him very well, can’t hear anything beside a ringing in his ears. He can feel Yoongi’s hands on his arms shaking him and Jimin just wobbles like a ragdoll under his boyfriend’s hands. “Sunshine!” Yoongi shouts, hands cupping Jimin’s face, but he can’t see Yoongi’s features - he’s blurry in his vision. “Breathe for me, breathe.” He places a hand on Jimin’s chest, pushing ever so slightly like a gentle reminder to his panic-ridden body to breathe. Jimin’s mouth is open, eyes shut as he tries to push the bubbling panic out of him, and tries to pull air into his tight lungs. “Deep breath, it’s all okay, just breathe, Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is calm, the low timber of it, relaxing and soothing and it has Jimin gasping on a stuttering breath. “That’s right, that’s it, breathe.” Jimin listens to his words, breaths pulling painfully through his teeth in short sharp gasps that burn his lungs. He feels like he’s drowned and swallowed too much salt water, feels like he’s been screaming non-stop for hours and has finally calmed down. It hurts, everything hurts. His shaky fingers dig into the fabric of his pants and he can feel hot tears burn down from his eyelids and stain his red cheeks, collecting around Yoongi’s hands as they gently cup Jimin’s face. He gasps through a few more breaths before he lets a stuttering sob past his lips. Yoongi hushes him, rubbing soothingly into the apples of his cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m always here, just keep breathing for me Sunshine, you’re doing so, so well.” Jimin sobs again, eyes slammed shut as he forces as much air into his lungs as he can - panic still simmering dangerously in his veins. When Jimin is breathing at a more normal pace again, breaths only slightly jagged as they’re mixed with sobs and tears, Yoongi slips himself onto the couch and encases Jimin in his arms. He holds him tightly to his chest, running his hands down Jimin’s back in rhythmically soothing motions. Jimin buries his face in Yoongi’s chest and lets the tears that have been gathering over the last few weeks slip silently down his face. His fingers tangle in Yoongi’s shirt to ground himself, to prove to his fucked up brain that Yoongi’s not going anywhere, he’s not leaving him. Yoongi waits until Jimin has calmed down, till he’s still in Yoongi’s hold and the last of his tears have escaped his eyes. He squeezes Jimin just a little closer to his chest and presses his lips onto the top of Jimin’s head. “You’re scaring me.” He whispers through a cracked voice. Jimin’s grip on his shirt tightens. “I’m scaring myself.” “I feel like that’s the worst panic attack I’ve ever seen you go through.” Yoongi breathes heavily. “You completely stopped breathing and…”

“It’s been building, for a while now.” Jimin explains in a small voice. “I could feel my anxiety messing with me for the past few weeks - but I was certain it was because of the stress of exams, and then…” “The letter?” Yoongi supplies. Jimin nods. “H-how did you find it?” “Taehyung gave it to me whilst you were packing.” Yoongi explains, fingers still dancing up and down his back soothingly. Jimin furrows his eyebrows, “I don’t understand…” “He doesn’t know what it is. But he knows that you’ve been getting the same letter every year since you moved in together. Knows that whatever it is, messes with your head.” Yoongi explains and Jimin goes rigid. “Knows that you lock yourself away with it for a few days and torture yourself over it.” “P-please stop.” “I can’t. I won’t.” “It hurts.” Yoongi’s grip tightens around him. “Then let me take the pain away.” He begs, lips now trailing across Jimin’s face. “Let me do something.” Jimin’s hands reach up to cradle Yoongi’s face, stopping his lips in their worship over Jimin’s skin. He holds Yoongi gaze and finally sees just how wrecked and distraught his boyfriend looks. It’s painful, stabs sharply at Jimin’s heart and he knows he can’t keep pushing this topic aside anymore. “Y-you can open it if you want.” Jimin explains. Yoongi holds his gaze for a few seconds. “Are you sure?” Jimin takes a deep breath and nods, before he’s reaching down for the discarded letter on the floor. Yoongi watches him carefully, hands slipping down to Jimin’s hips as the younger gets comfortable over Yoongi’s lap, legs straddling him. Jimin gives the letter one last lingering glance before he’s pushing it into Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi’s hands are quick to reach out for it, fingers swiftly ripping into the envelope and pulling the crisp white paper out from inside. Yoongi’s eyes scan through it once, twice, and on the the third time his eyes harden. “This is an invitation to a school reunion.” Jimin nods, knowing he doesn’t need to say much more. He hasn’t really gone into very much detail about his high school days with Yoongi before. It’s a painful topic that Yoongi knows to avoid, even though Jimin can see how much he wants to pry into it. Every time Jimin is reduced to a panic attack, he can see the need to know the reason why Jimin has to suffer like this. Yoongi knows that the reason connects to Jimin’s high school days, but doesn’t want to push Jimin for more information in case it just brings him more harm. “You know you don’t have to go to this, right?” Yoongi explains gently, hand reaching out to cup Jimin’s face, knowing that the younger needs the tactile comfort and reassurance. Jimin nods, “And I won’t go.” He explains. “But it doesn’t stop me from remembering.”

“What did they do to you?” Yoongi asks. Jimin shivers. “I don’t…” He shakes his head, curling his arms around his body to try and keep himself together. Yoongi hushes him. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.” “It’s not because I don’t want to!” Jimin exclaims quickly, a little frantically. “It’s just, it hurts and…” Yoongi rubs his thumbs gently into the apples of Jimin’s cheeks. “Alright, alright, I understand.” Jimin nods, letting out a long sigh, body relaxing under Yoongi’s touch, content in the knowledge he doesn’t have to relive memories he’s tried so hard to get over. “Thank you.” Jimin whispers. “Sunshine.” Yoongi begins, leaning forward so that their faces are inches apart. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be with you during that time to protect you.” Yoongi breathes softly between the small space. His lips brush against Jimin’s capturing them in a quick brief kiss before he’s pulling back again. “But I promised you that I’d protect you with my dying breath, and I need you to let me do that now.” He kisses Jimin again, a little longer this time, his lips pulling at Jimin’s bottom lip as he pulls away. “What can you do?” Jimin mutters. “The past is in the past.” Yoongi’s hands slip around Jimin’s body, palms flaring against the top of his back before he’s pushing Jimin back against the couch, caging him against it as he captures Jimin’s lips in another kiss. “By letting me show you how wrong they were.” Yoongi explains. “By showing you how beautiful…” He kisses Jimin once more, and Jimin’s arms reach up to tangle behind Yoongi’s neck. “Kind…” Another kiss. “Caring…” His lips move down to Jimin’s jaw this time. “Wonderful and sweet you are.” He adds, trailing more kisses down Jimin’s neck. “Y-Yoongi…” “I will spend the rest of my life, proving those assholes wrong and make you see, make you understand just how fucking amazing you are, Sunshine.” Yoongi whispers into the shell of Jimin’s ear. His words hold so much depth, so much emotion, like they’re the most important words he’ll ever tell Jimin and it has Jimin shivering under him. “I will spend the rest of my life, loving you, Park Jimin. Let me protect you now.” Jimin can feel tears collecting in his eyes again, completely overwhelmed by so many emotions that it’s hard to keep them all under control. “Y-yes, please, please.” Yoongi hushes him once more, before returning to Jimin’s lips and claiming them in the softest, deepest kiss they’ve ever shared. Yoongi swipes carefully at Jimin’s lips, and Jimin gasps as he opens up for his love. He can feel Yoongi tenderly licking into his mouth, feeding every ounce of love he has to offer Jimin directly, and holding him so tightly, as if cradling the rarest and most treasured jewel in the entire world. Jimin can’t hold back the tears that spill over his eyes again, feeling Yoongi’s love for him so strongly, so deeply, so intrinsically, that Jimin is utterly consumed by it. All insecure thoughts evaporating as if they were never there, and Jimin can feel himself rising from the ashes of his insecurities like a phoenix. It’s utterly overpowering and terrifying how Yoongi can do this to him, make him feel so alive. They pull away, foreheads pressed together sweetly as they breathe desperately into the small space between them, not wanting to be fully disconnected just yet.

“I love you.” Jimin breathes, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of Yoongi’s love. Yoongi chuckles affectionately and kisses his lips chastly once more. “I love you too, Sunshine.” ___________

Jimin wakes the next day feeling more like himself. His head and his heart feel so much lighter, there’s a smile across his lips even when he finds the bed empty of his boyfriend, and there’s no more headache pinching at his temples. He stretches like a cat in the warm white sheets of the bed, tangles his fingers in the duvet and cocoons himself in them, rolling around on the mattress until it’s a complete mess. The winter sun streams warm and strong through the large windows and Jimin burrows his head further into the duvet, hiding his face into the covers and breathing deeply. It smells so much like Yoongi that he finds himself nuzzling into the rich sandalwood scent and sighing in content. He feels so safe, so loved and so incredibly free - like nothing can touch him, and he’s never wanted to work harder at getting over his battle scars. Especially if he knows Yoongi will be with him every step of the way. He feels his heart jitter a little in his chest, overtaken by such a profound feeling of awe with how deeply in love he is with Yoongi. He never thought he was ever deserving of love, never thought he’d ever get to experience something so beautiful and something so pure - years of being told he was unworthy of such a wonderful thing corrupts you into think so too. He had never dated before Yoongi, was never brave enough to try and was never strong enough to beat his bullies and his tormentors to prove them wrong. Not until Yoongi came along. Yoongi who swept him off his feet so breezily and so easily, and showed him love in a way as simple as breathing. He gave Yoongi all of him, all of his firsts, all the love he has to offer and he’s been so blessed to have Yoongi return the same feelings just as intensely and just as genuinely. He’s seen enough romance dramas and read enough love stories to know that those that fall hard and fast over their first love, are the ones that are burned the most. But Jimin doesn’t care, he intrinsically knows that he was made to love only Yoongi, and if he were to ever be out of favour of love, then at least he got to love at all. At least he got Yoongi. Jimin bundles the covers around himself, like a thick cape, and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He hisses as the cold wood touches his bare feet and it sends a jolt of electricity through him, wiping out the last of his sleep, as he hurriedly pads his way through the apartment in search of his missing heat source. He knows exactly where he’ll find Yoongi this early on a saturday morning, because there’s nothing that can pull his boyfriend out of bed unless it’s work related. The door to his home office is ajar, and Jimin can practically hear Yoongi’s thoughts whizzing around his head a mile a minute, like an overheated computer. Jimin pushes the door open, shivering as he unfurls his hand from his blanket cape, and leans against the doorframe as he watches Yoongi work. The elder’s eyes lazily look up from his computer and run over the sight of a sleepy Jimin huddled in his bedspread. A small smirk pulls at the corners of his lips that has Jimin returning a slightly shyer smile back. Yoongi has this incredible way of looking at Jimin as if seeing everything he has to offer, breaking down all the masks and barriers, just seeing Jimin for all his flaws and insecurities.

Yoongi pushes his chair away from the desk, hand reaching out for Jimin from across the room. Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s bounding across the room and slotting himself across his boyfriend’s lap. Yoongi sighs, like a man who’s been running all day and has finally taken a moment to rest. “How did you sleep, Sunshine?” He asks as Jimin curls himself up on Yoongi’s lap. He has his legs thrown over the side of Yoongi’s office chair, hands tangled in Yoongi’s black sleep shirt, and the side of his face pressed against the warmth of his chest. Jimin hums. “Well, really well.” He explains. “I haven’t slept that well in weeks.” Yoongi kisses the top of his head. “Good, I think you needed it.” Jimin giggles softly. “I was a bit grouchy yesterday.” Yoongi scoffs. “I think you were well within your right to be.” He sympathises. “But now there’s no need for you to worry about it. I’ll handle it.” His voice is dark, darker than the light tone of the room. Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “For some reason, you sound far more determined to break some necks this morning, than you did last night.” Jimin can feel Yoongi tense beneath him, in a way Jimin is sure it’s from irritation and annoyance over the situation at hand. “Yeah well,” He begins through considerably tightly clenched teeth. “I’m always in the mood to break some necks if they belong to people who have wronged my Sunshine.” Jimin really doesn’t like the tone in Yoongi’s voice. There’s a sharp edge to his already harsh words that Jimin associates with all the darker sides to his lover. But what makes the threat settle a little more uneasily upon Jimin’s shoulders than usual, is the fact that the threat has been made because of him. He can’t handle the thought that Yoongi is willing to inflict harm, or worse, onto people he has never met, and it would all be Jimin’s fault. “D-don’t.” Jimin mumbles, not sure what he can say in this situation, he already knows there’s nothing he can really do to convince Yoongi to forget it all. He knows that Yoongi already has a plan in his head, it was probably formed the first time he saw Jimin crumble under panic and anxiety. “Don’t, what?” Yoongi asks, but Jimin can tell he’s not really listening. Jimin pulls his head away from Yoongi’s chest, untangles his hands from the man’s shirt to cup his face and stare intently into his love’s eyes. “Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking.” Yoongi’s gaze is cold and harsh and Jimin knows he’s not really looking at him. He’s seeing things that will make Jimin shudder, dark things that are yet to come. “I can’t do that.” Jimin searches through that cold harsh gaze once more, trying to find the warmth to Yoongi that he’s so used too. “What’s changed in you over the last few hours whilst I slept?” Jimin barely whispers. “What more have you possibly found that has given you such a determined look?” Yoongi’s eyes sharpen even further. “That’s for me to know.” Jimin scoffs. “It’s not, when it involves me too.” “Sunshine.” “Yoongi.” Jimin warns. “I know that no matter what I say, you’ll ignore it. I can see the determined

look in your eyes and there’s no changing your mind once it’s set. But for the sake of my already fragile heart, please think about this.” Yoongi sighs, eyes shutting. “They hurt you, Sunshine.” “They did.” Jimin’s voice is small. “But it’s all in the past, it’s over. I never have to see them again I…” Yoongi’s hands lace with Jimin’s, pulling them away from his face to kiss the palms of each tenderly. “They left you broken.” Jimin shivers under the touch of Yoongi’s warm lips on his cold palms. “Th-they did.” He begins, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. “But you fixed me. You fix me every time I fall apart, and although that’s a lot to put on you, I don’t need anything else. I don’t need to be avenged.” “Then, look at it this way.” Yoongi begins, calculatively. He wraps Jimin’s hands around his own neck, before snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist to pull him closer to him. “You may not need to be avenged, but I need to do something. I need to destroy them, because otherwise I think I might just go insane. Knowing that they get to walk around ignorant to just how much pain they inflicted to someone so wonderful… to my something wonderful. I can’t fucking bear it, Sunshine.” Jimin is shushing him gently, pushing Yoongi’s hair away from his face. “Okay, okay.” He placates, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss to his forehead, lips lingering on the skin once he’s done. “I understand.” “No one’s going to hurt you again.” Yoongi explains, but it feels more like he’s trying to reassure himself rather than Jimin. “They’ll pay, they’ll all pay.” He burrows his face in Jimin’s chest, arms tightening around his waist as he does. Jimin feels like he could break in Yoongi’s hold. Break from the fear of what’s to come, from the suffocating love Yoongi surrounds him in and from the sheer worry his heart holds for the state of his lover’s soul. Yoongi could very well break him one day, and Jimin would let him. “No one hurts what’s mine.” Yoongi practically growls and the assured tone in his voice has Jimin believing him wholeheartedly. ____________

“I’m going for lunch with your mother tomorrow.” Jimin explains as he packs up the last of his clothes on Sunday evening. This is his least favorite part of the weekend, having to pack up and leave Yoongi for another achingly long week. He gets a little bit clingier as the seconds tick by to the ultimate time of their separation. Yoongi, always the most attentive to Jimin’s needs without the need to actually voice them, has Jimin pulled against his chest in a tight back hug. His chin is hooked over Jimin’s shoulder, lips pressing into the rare hickeys that have been littered across Jimin’s golden skin, in the wake of such an emotionally draining weekend. “Oh? She’s in town?” Yoongi asks, too preoccupied with sucking a fresh mark into a clearly smooth patch of skin. Jimin giggles, hands dropping from his bag to tangle in Yoongi’s hair and press him closer to his neck. “Like you didn’t know. I know you keep a tail on your mother.” He explains, voice pitching in a gasp at the end. “Sh-she does too.”

Yoongi grumbles, tongue licking over the fresh hickey in satisfaction. “Can we not talk about my mother right now? It’s considerably non-sexy.” “Lee will be here soon to take me home.” Jimin can feel Yoongi smirking against his neck. “That’s the thing about Lee being my driver, I can tell him to come by later.” He licks a stripe up Jimin’s neck and it reduces the younger to shivers. Jimin moans. “I-I have to be back soon, or else Tae’ll…” “I’ll buy you a new apartment if that moron burns yours down.” Yoongi explains, spinning Jimin in his arms and crashing their lips together in heated kiss, teeth clashing. Jimin concedes easily to his boyfriend’s wishes, arms wrapping around Yoongi’s neck. He jumps to wrap his legs around Yoongi’s waist, and the elder’s large hands squeeze at the tops of Jimin’s thighs, fingers brushing against the globes of his ass to keep him in place. They pull apart, Yoongi nibbling at Jimin’s bottom lip as he does. “I love how easily you melt in my arms.” “I love how easily you make me melt.” Jimin replies breathily as he leaves burning hot kisses down the expanse of Yoongi’s neck. Neither of them have bothered with very many layers of clothes over the weekend, the notion of ‘absences makes the heart grow stronger’ never ringing more true than with them. Jimin had spent the better part of his lazy Sunday, when he wasn’t lounging around in bed, walking round the large apartment naked, teasing his boyfriend into capturing him and loving him for yet another time that weekend. Jimin remembers telling Seokjin about one weekend in which Yoongi had come back from a business trip to Thailand and they had barely seperated long enough to eat one meal a day. Vaguely, he recalls his eldest hyung comparing them to rabbits, but Jimin had been to blissfully full of love to care. Jimin had managed to pull on a pair of boxers, of which he was certain were Yoongi’s, whilst he attempted to pack up his stuff. Whereas Yoongi had been a little more conservative and pulled on a pair of sweats, halfway through finding a top before he had latched onto Jimin’s back like a koala. Sometimes, his soft hearted mafia boyfriend was far needier than Jimin. Yoongi wastes no time in yanking Jimin’s boxers down past the curve of his ass, walking towards the bed as their lips tangle in another heated kiss. He deposits Jimin on top of the sheets and he lands with a soft thud and an airy giggle. Yoongi practically rips the boxers off of Jimin’s legs, hands pushing the younger’s legs apart so that he can run his tongue over Jimin’s hole. Jimin moans loudly, voice bouncing off the white walls of the master bedroom to echo back in his ears. “Yoongi.” He gasps as the Yoongi sucks harshly on his puckered ring. His hands fling down to tangle in Yoongi’s hair, toes curling at the sensation and his dick throbbing painfully hard against his abdomen. He’s always been weak for Yoongi’s tongue inside him. Yoongi smirks against his hole, breathing hot air against it that has Jimin gasping through a whine and full-body shuddering. “You’re already loose.” “W-we did fuck like, half an hour ago.” Jimin sutters. Yoongi chuckles. “It’s been far too long.” He teases before his tongue circles Jimin’s hole once more. “F-fuck!” Jimin exclaims as soon as Yoongi is entering him, wet tongue pushing past the ring of

muscles easily. It doesn’t take long before Jimin is a whimpering, whining mess on the bed, hands pulling so tightly at Yoongi’s hair, legs shaking. “Yoongi, please.” Jimin begs, pulling at his boyfriend’s hair to reiterate how he needs more, now. Yoongi removes his tongue, leaving one last kiss to Jimin’s hole before he’s standing back up to his feet. He reaches for the lube that’s been discarded on the floor after their last session, and places an ample amount on his fingers. He slips two fingers into Jimin immediately, the younger gasping at the sudden intrusion, back arching off the bed. Yoongi scissors his already loose hole easily, but leisurely, always the tease when it comes to Jimin. He knows Yoongi likes hearing him beg, and really, Jimin would do so all too easily. It doesn’t take much to wind him up, after all. “Yoongi, please, I n-need, I need…” Jimin whimpers on the bed, hands gripping tightly into the bedsheets. Yoongi smirks. “I know, just be patient.” He taunts, third finger pushing in along side the others. Jimin barely feels the stretch, but the presence of three fingers inside of him has his toes curling in anticipation. Yoongi’s fingers are so much longer than his own, always able to find that sweet spot that Jimin never can on his own. Jimin cries out just as Yoongi’s fingers jab against his prostate, back arched so far off the bed again it’s almost painful. “There, right there.” Jimin pants. “There?” Yoongi asks, fingers tantalisingly slowly rubbing against the little bundle of nerves deep inside Jimin. Jimin is nodding harshly, mouth open and panting as Yoongi continues to abuse his sensitive prostate. “Yes, yes, please, more, I need…” Yoongi pulls his fingers out before Jimin has a chance to finish that sentence and his voice catches on a whine at the empty feeling. He doesn’t have time to complain however, because Yoongi has shimmied out of his sweats and lubed up his incredibly hard dick in record time. Jimin can feel the tip of Yoongi’s dick at his entrance, and he shucks in a breathy gasp in anticipation. Yoongi pushes in slowly, face pinched and mouth open on a silent moan. Jimin’s hands grip tighter into the bedsheets, the breath he had been holding whooshing out of his chest the moment Yoongi is fully sheathed inside him. Yoongi rolls his hips slowly in small circles, and Jimin squirms on the white sheets under him. Yoongi sighs, hand reaching out to push Jimin’s sweat bangs away from his forehead. “You are so beautiful, Sunshine.” He comments as if stating water is wet. “You’re always beautiful, but I think you’re the most beautiful like this.” Jimin has a warming blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Yoongi rolls his hips a little harder this time, and Jimin whines. “Wh-why?” He pants. Yoongi leans down and catches Jimin’s lips in a messy kiss, tongue tangling and teeth nipping at each other’s lips. “Why do I think you’re the most beautiful like this?” Yoongi muses rather than asks, pulling away from their kiss all too soon for Jimin’s liking. His lips chase after Yoongi, stopping only when the elder thrusts sharply right against Jimin’s sweet spot and causes him to moan long and high into the humid bedroom. Yoongi runs his finger tips down the golden planes of Jimin’s skin, eyes taking in every detail that’s

laid before him with an awed look pulled across his face. “Because this side of you, is all for me.” “Then take it, take it all.” Jimin replies, heart so full and so heavy in his chest it almost hurts with how much love it holds. Yoongi doesn’t reply, there’s no need too. Not when actions always speak louder than words with them. ____________

Min Yerin arrives at Jimin’s apartment the following day in her usual fashion. Not with a greeting but with a question. “Do you have a suit for your graduation?” She asks, phone in her hand and eyes glued to it as she hurriedly taps away on it. She doesn’t even spare Jimin a look in greeting, spare hand thrusting a cup of coffee in Jimin’s direction. “Erm…” Jimin begins, thankfully taking the coffee from the woman’s hands. “I was just going to rent one…” Yerin’s gaze snap up to him then, the dark feline eyes narrowing him in a sharp glare that clearly speaks more than words ever could. Obviously, renting a suit isn’t the correct answer Yerin was looking for. She slips her phone into the sensible black Hermes handbag dangling at the crook of her arm. “So I take it you don’t have a suit for your graduation?” Her gaze is sharp, running over Jimin’s appearance. There isn’t very much difference to the standard dark pencil skirt suits and white pussy-bow blouse attire that he’s used to seeing on the powerful woman. Today her usually asymmetric trimmed bob is pulled back into a tight ponytail, blouse a cherry blossom blushed pink and tucked into a dark plum pencil skirt and matching suit jacket. The clothing, all most definitely sporting designer tags, hug her slight frame perfectly, her slim legs encased in black tights and slipped into sensible matte leather plum shoes. Jimin had gone for his standard oversized cream sweater and jeans - without the holes as Yerin has expressed on more than one occasion how she can’t understand why people feel the need to dress like they’re homeless. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy atop his head, and he even pulled out the expensive black Saint Laurent loafers Yerin had gifted him last Christmas. “Not a new one, no.” Jimin explains. “But I still have that Tom Ford suit Yoongi got me for your Gala last Christmas.” Yerin’s mouth twists into a thin line like she’s chewing on a lemon. “I don’t like Tom Ford.” She explains. “You’d look better in Yves Saint Laurent, he cuts a nice suit.” She explains. “Go get your bag.” Jimin blinks blankly at her. “I-I can’t really afford Yves Saint Laurent… the Tom Ford one is fine Yerin, honestly.” Yerin sighs. “Would you just accept your graduation present without complaints and go and get your things?”

Jimin almost chokes. “What?” Yerin rolls her eyes, crossing her arms about her chest. “Daejung and I would like to buy your graduation suit. Is that okay with you?” “Y-Yerin, that’s far too much, you can’t..” Jimin begins, flailing his hands about the place. Yerin captures his hands in hers and brings them down to his side with a small twitch at the corners of her mouth Jimin has come to know is as close to a smile as Yerin gets. “Nothing’s too much for you, Park Jimin. Not when you make my son so blindingly happy.” Jimin flushes brilliantly. “I…” “You’re a good kid.” Yerin adds. “We’re proud of you, you’ve worked hard towards your goal. Now let us spoil you and don’t complain about it for once, alright?” Jimin nods, warm smile pulling across his lips. “Thank you, Yerin.” Yerin squeezes his hands gently. “You’re welcome, now, go and get your things.” Jimin turns on his heels, grabbing his satchel from the shoe rack by the door and his keys from the hook just above it. He pulls the bag over his shoulder and takes a step towards the doorway, but Yerin raises her hands to stop him with a knowing cock of her eyebrow. “Did you spend the weekend with my son, perchance?” She asks eyes running over his appearance again. Jimin cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Yes. Why?” Yerin smirks, boney hand coming up to cover her thin pink lips. “You might want to consider a scarf.” She explains with mirth in her eyes. “And maybe feed my Son more so that he doesn’t completely eat you.” Jimin has never been so red in his life, hands slapping over the hickeys littering his neck and an embarrassed squeak leaving his lips. He turns on his heels and practically flies through the apartment in search of a scarf, Yerin’s amused chuckles echoing to him from the doorway. ____________

Jimin never thought he’d ever be able to walk into the high priced designer shops of Gangnam with the intent to actually buy anything. But over the last few years of dating Yoongi, he’s seen the inside of Gucci more times than is needed in a lifetime. Which is a mixture of both Taehyung’s overpriced tastes and Min Yerin refusing to shop alone after Jimin offered to accompany her one time. Not that he regrets spending time with his boyfriend’s mother, in fact it’s quite the opposite. Jimin’s not a stranger to strong women, his mother being one of them, and Jimin takes pride in watching how Yerin ticks. The woman is a machine, every move and word spoken done purposefully in order to enact a desired result. She may have come from a simple family, grown up with humble beginnings and instilled with a strong hard working ethic, but Jimin thinks Yerin is like a chameleon. So willingly able to adapt to any situation thrown her way, he can’t imagine her being anything else but a mobster’s wife. He respects Min Yerin the most in this strange and confusing new world he’s been thrown into.

Despite how overbearing the woman can be, her heart is always in the right place. They’re kindred spirits, Jimin walking pretty much the same path Yerin had many years ago when she met Min Daejung. The sleek black mercedes pulls up directly outside Yves Saint Laurent, Yerin’s driver, of whom Jimin never did learn the name of, jumps out with shaky limbs and slams open the door a little clumsily. Yerin doesn’t even spare the guy a side eye as she slips out the door with Jimin following after. Her eyes are back on her phone, tapping away at it whilst she leads them into the store. “Alright, I’m going to go talk to the manager and see if he can call their tailor here for you.” Yerin explains, slipping her phone back into her bag to finally look up at Jimin. Jimin’s too busy gawking at the first price tag he’s seen upon entering the store, and he’s pretty certain there’s no need for a bucket hat to be that damn expensive. “I can just pick a suit that’s already on display.” Jimin reasons, not wanting to be more of a burden than he already is. He will always be uncomfortable around so much money. “There’s no need to burden the tailor and…” He turns to face Yerin, of whom he’s not surprised to find blinking unimpressed at him. “Jiminie, sweetie.” She begins, stepping closer to him and fussing around with Jimin’s hair, making it ‘neater’. “Does this look like the face of someone who’s going to let you wear something off the rack?” Jimin sighs. “No.” “Exactly.” She pats his cheek and turns towards on her heels. “Peruse, if there’s anything you want make a note and I’ll let the assistants know when I come back.” Jimin nod, not bothering to voice the million and one arguments he has on his tongue. The fact that Yerin is buying him a suit that’s worth more than his entire existence is more than enough, he doesn’t need some overpriced bucket hat on top of that. But he knows that he’s going to have to say he likes something, especially now that Yerin’s mentioned it. She won’t let him leave with just the suit now. Yerin totters on her sensible heels, eyes trained back on her phone again, straight passed the till and to the employee entrance door. Despite the two female shop assistant calling after her, telling her that she’s not allowed to go back there, Yerin still slams her way through the door, not even bothering to argue with the flabbergasted workers. Jimin smiles, shaking his head as he gingerly makes his way over to the bags. He’s got it in his mindset that maybe men’s bags aren’t nearly as expensive as women's and could potentially be cheaper than the rest of the goods on display. He’s so very, very wrong. It’s as Jimin’s looking at some strange half loafer half slipper looking combination of a shoe when the door to the shop slams open and another customer saunters in. Jimin had been the only one in there, the shop assistants not bothering to pay him any mind considering he entered the shop with someone as scary looking as Yerin. Jimin, being a curious human being, snaps his head over to the new customer and drops the loafer/slipper hybrid in pure fear. “What can I help you with today?” The shop assistant asks, filtering over to the new customer like a moth to the flame. The man, whose double the height of Jimin, with shoulders far broader than he remembers, and arms looking as toned as a professional wrestler, smirks a semi-toothless grin down at the petite woman

before him. His hair is jet black, slicked back with jell that looks somewhat greasy looking, his clothes are designer, even if they are sports wear and he screams ‘new money’ as Yerin so often likes to call them. But he looks just as intimidating as Jimin remembers, even with his new found riches, and it has his blood running cold. “I need a suit.” He announces, chest puffing out and hands landing on his hips as his eyes scan the shop. Of all the designer stores in all of Gangnam, why did Chung Songho have to pick this one? Jimin has just enough self preservation still running through his veins, to hastily pick up the shoe and spin on his heels so that he’s not directly looking at one of his childhood tormentors. His whole body is shaking, his breath is coming out in whisps as he shakily places the shoe back on its stand on the shelf. He can hear the booming, terrifying voice of the man ordering the staff around, but Jimin is having a hard time picking out exactly what he’s saying. There’s a ringing in his ears that he’s all too familiar with, his chest feels tight and his fingers are numb with pins and needles. There’s a panic attack bubbling up through his veins, clawing its way at the back of his throat and consuming his senses. He’d always wondered whether he would be able to face his tormentors again and not be so damn affected - turns out that’s just wishful thinking. “Hey, you actually want those? Or can I have them?” Songho asks and the close proximity of his voice has Jimin jumping out of his skin, a small squeak slipping out his mouth. Songho laughs, his deep baritone resonating off the glossy shop walls and back into Jimin’s ears even louder. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to scare you.” His hand clamps down on Jimin’s shoulder and Jimin practically crumbles like paper under his touch, knees giving way under him. Songho catches him under the arm however, stopping a rather nasty and embarrassing collapse onto the expensive tiled floors of Yves Saint Laurent. “Dude, you okay there?” He asks. Jimin makes the stupid mistake of looking up at the guy and it takes all but three seconds for realization to bloom on Songho’s face. The indifferent polite look one might give a stranger suddenly bleeds away and is replaced by a sinister smirk that has Jimin practically hyperventilating. “Well, as I live and breath. Park Jimin.” His voice is like razor blades, every word every syllable piercing through Jimin’s skin. Jimin can’t find his own words, can’t find his voice, but he knows that Songho is waiting for him to say something. The grip around Jimin’s upper arm tightens and it has Jimin hissing through his teeth. “Don’t be rude now Jimin, say hello.” The grip tightens impossibly more and Jimin can no longer feel his hand. “H-hello.” He mumbles through a quiet breathy voice. Songho’s grip loosens slightly, just enough that Jimin can feel the blood returning to the rest of his arm. “God.” Songho practically spits. “You’re still as rude as ever. Never grew a backbone either, I see?” He snickers, voice taking on a darker edge than before. The sound is something straight out of Jimin’s nightmares. He’s pretty certain he’s going to be sick, his stomach flipping painfully in the wake of the situation. “What you doin’ here, huh? I thought rats couldn’t afford nice things?” “I-I, suit..” Jimin stammers surprised he can get any words out right now. Songho’s laugh echoes around the shop once more and Jimin starts closing in on himself like a clam. “Looking at what you can never have? Or did your mother finally decide to sell herself? I always did think she would fetch a decent enough price…”

“Don’t talk about her l-like that.” Jimin tries to lace as much venom into his voice as possible but his threat comes out more like a mouse’s squeak rather than a lion’s roar and he’s never felt more ashamed of himself. He can’t even stand up for the ones he loves, what kind of pathetic person is he. There’s a tittering noise coming from Songho that reminds Jimin of a clock counting down the seconds until all hell breaks loose. He’s hoping that maybe Songho won’t do anything nearly as harmful as he used to do back when they were in High school. Jimin’s praying that with age, the man has gained some kind of wisdom, and knows starting something in the middle of a public shop is not a good idea. “Did you lose all respect for those more important than you?” Songho asks in a patronizing voice that makes Jimin’s skin crawl. “Do I need to re-educate you.” “N-no…” Jimin begins, panic rising so painfully in his veins Jimin loses all his breath at the end of his plea, throat closing tightly. But he knows is fruitless to argue, useless to fight pack. He can see Songho’s hand raising, can feel the sting of a slap across his face already - what has he even done to warrant something like this besides exist? How can a person be so heartless, so cruel that they would treat someone less fortunate than them like this. Why are humans so black hearted in the face of things different from them? Jimin scrunches his eyes shut, body braced for impact that he can already feel rattling through his veins from past hits. But the sting never comes. “Excuse me.” The shrill voice of none other than Min Yerin cuts through the conversation and it has Jimin’s eyes snapping open wide in pure shock. Songho’s lets go of his grip on Jimin in favour of turning to face the petite yet intimidating women standing behind him. “Yeah?” He asks, clearly irritated that he’s been interrupted. Yerin clicks her tongue and Jimin’s heart is basically in his throat. He doesn’t want to even think about what would happen to Chung Songho if he lays a finger on Yerin. He wouldn’t be allowed to live. Jimin is thinking of different ways in which he can move Yerin away from the situation, because no matter how horrid a being Chung Songho is, Jimin would still not wish a death sentence on the man. “Yerin, th-this is…” Jimin begins, stepping round Songho, adrenaline the only thing keeping him moving and stopping him from curling up on the floor in fear. “I know perfectly well who this is, Jiminie.” Yerin supplies and before anyone else can say anything, Yerin’s boney polished fist has connected painfully, in the loudest of snaps Jimin has ever heard, with the bridge of Songho’s nose. “Fuck!” Songho bellows, hands cupping a now bloody nose as he crumbles to his knees in shock and pain. Jimin was frozen where he stands, eyes snapping between Chung Songho as he grunts in agony, and Min Yerin as she shakes out the throbbing in her hand, glaring daggers down at the man twice her size. Never in his wildest dreams did Jimin ever invision someone as small and fragile looking as Min Yerin, would even be able to bring anyone to their knees through a punch. The woman holds more intimidation in the way she speaks rather than her physique. Jimin realises that he’ll forever be underestimating Min Yerin, and the realization is both terrifying

and awe inspiring. Yerin snaps her fingers on her good hand, her right hook swelling ever so slightly at the knuckles. “Kwon.” She calls in an even yet harsh voice that has Jimin shuddering from. Her driver is by her side instantaneously, not even battering an eyelash at the fact his mistress just punched the living daylights out of a guy twice her size. Clearly it’s just Jimin that’s surprised by all this. “My son will be here in a few minutes.” She explains, pulling her phone back out again. Yoongi’s coming? “You heartless bitch! Do you know who I fucking am?” Songho bellows through the blood gushing down his face. He’s wobbling on his knees, trying to pull himself back up on his feet. Yerin takes a step closer to him eyes still trained on her phone, but she presses the toe of her sensible plum heels against Songho’s chest and pushes him back on his ass. “Do you know who I am?” Yerin snaps, eyes glaring at the man in the coldest of stares Jimin has ever seen, before she’s back to looking at her phone. “Bound him to a chair, take the staff upstairs, and lock up shop.” Yerin orders her driver before she’s slipping her phone back in her bag. The driver, Kwon, gives a curt nod before leaning down and yanking Songho up by his shoulders. Jimin’s eyes are trained on Songho, arms crossed in front of his chest in protection as if the guy could suddenly spring forward and slam Jimin’s head into the floor. He flinches when he feels Yerin’s hands on his shoulders. “Jiminie, sweetie, you alright?” She asks. Jimin’s eyes slowly train back on to the woman’s slim pale face, brain not really registering at a regular pace. “You punched him on the nose.” Jimin mumbles. “Y-your hand…” He adds, reaching out to cradle the swollen hand of his boyfriend’s mother. “Does it hurt?” He asks, worry for the incredible woman suddenly the only thing that’s flooding his mind. Yerin’s spare hand cups his face, her touch against his cold cheek is warm and Jimin realises that he’s still shivering. “You’re a kind child.” Yerin states with warmth in her eyes that Jimin has never really seen before. “They’ll pay. They’ll all pay.” She promises. ___________

“Kwon, let my son in.” Yerin orders from beside Jimin. She’s got her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her chest in a stiff embrace that’s filled with as much warmth as a block of ice, but Jimin appreciates the thought nonetheless. He’s still shivering, all he can hear is Songho grunt insults that are muffled by silver tape across his mouth. Jimin isn’t even sure where the hell Kwon found tape and rope in a classy shop like Yves Saint Laurent, no wait, scratch that, Jimin doesn’t want to know. Jimin has his legs pulled up to his chest, face buried in his knees as they sit on the uncomfortable small sofa near the shoes. Yerin has purposefully sat him with his back to Songho and to the door, but Jimin can feel his boyfriend’s overbearing presence seep dangerously through the door. Songho must feel it too, because as soon as the door is open for Yoongi the whole room goes silent.

Jimin doesn’t move, eyes scrunching shut and hands coming over his ears. He doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, don’t want to know what’s going to happen to Chung Songho, doesn’t want to be riddled with even more guilt than he already is. He doesn’t want someone else to suffer because of him, no matter what the person has done to him. He feels hands wrapping around his wrists, gently prying his hands away from his ears. “Sunshine.” Yoongi’s voice is soft, softer than he was expecting. Jimin opens his eyes slowly, feels his breath evening out at the sight of his boyfriend and all he wants to do is melt away in his arms. “Y-Yoongi.” Jimin snuffles flinging himself at Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi is quick to wrap his arms around Jimin, cradle his head close to his chest and reassuringly run his fingers through Jimin’s hair. It’s all Jimin needs to ground him in the horrible moment, everything he ever needed to break him out of this living nightmare. He feels sobs bubbling out of his mouth, eyes stained wet as tears slide down his face and Yoongi’s grip around him tightens. “I’ve got you now, everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.” Jimin sniffles, fingers clinging onto Yoongi’s suit jacket for dear life. “W-what are you g-gonna do?” He asks through his tears. Yoongi stiffens and Jimin really doesn’t like what that means. He pulls his wet face away from Yoongi’s chest, eyes wide and glassy with tears he’s yet to shed. Yoongi’s face is dark and sharp, hard like a stone and set so stubbornly that even if Jimin begs and pleads with him, Yoongi will hear nothing of it. Even if Jimin breaks under the guilt of another person suffering because of him, Yoongi still wouldn’t be sorry. “I’m going to take you back to mine, okay, Sunshine?” Yoongi explains instead of expanding on the fate of Chung Songho. Jimin’s hands tighten in their hold on Yoongi’s jacket. “Please, don’t kill him.” Songho screams incoherently from behind Jimin and it makes him shiver. “Don’t worry about it Sunshine, let’s just go.” He explains. “Hoseok will handle it.” Jimin hadn’t even realised Hoseok had joined them in the shop. “Yoongi, please don’t do this.” Jimin pleads desperately. “Please, listen to me, listen to what I want.” Yoongi stands, ears deaf to Jimin’s pleads as he pulls Jimin up with him. “Mother.” He greets in simple passing, not taking his eyes off of Jimin’s face. “Yoongi.” Yerin replies, crossing one leg over the other. “Be gentle now.” Yoongi scoffs. “Like either of us know the meaning of the word.” “I’m in town until tomorrow night, I’ll make reservations for dinner before I leave.” Yerin explains, swollen hand resting delicately over her knee. Yoongi rolls his eyes, finally gracing his mother his full attention. “We’re busy.” “Change that.” Yerin snaps before she stands to her feet. She pushes Jimin’s bangs away from his forehead with a heavy sigh. “Jiminie, let Yoongi take care of it, okay? We understand that you’re still a little unsure about everything this family does. But let us protect you. Trust in us, that we’ll make the right decision.” She explains.

Jimin feels like there’s a weight pushing down on his chest the size of Asia that feels so familiarly like guilt. He trusts Yoongi, he trusts the Min family there’s no doubt in his mind that he does. But he can see darkness in the eyes of his love that sends unwavering fear for the unknown across the surface of his skin in the form of a shiver. “I’ll call you later to reschedule our shopping trip.” She adds before she’s stepping out of Jimin and Yoongi’s space. Yoongi doesn’t waste another beat of a second before he’s practically dragging Jimin back towards the door. Hoseok is stood there waiting for him, eyes narrowed at Songho and fingers flexing with an itch to inflict pain that Jimin will never understand. “Deal with him.” Yoongi snaps as they pass and Jimin throws one last glance over his shoulder at the state of his childhood bully tied to a chair in the middle of a high end store. He looks so much smaller than Jimin has ever known him. His eyes are the size of the moon, there’s tears clinging in his eyes and Jimin can see his whole body shaking. Is that what he looked like throughout high school? Is he suddenly no better than the heartless bullies he’s dealt with? The guilt building in the pit of his stomach and suffocating his heart make him believe so and he can feel bile rising in the back of his throat - disgusted and sickened with himself. But Jimin does find solace in one thing though, as he and Songho stand in their reversed roles - Jimin doesn’t want to inflict any kind of harm onto this man, no matter what he’s dealt to Jimin in the past. “Make it hurt.” Yoongi adds, snapping Jimin’s attention back in front of him as he’s dragged through the door. “With pleasure.” Hoseok agrees sinisterly, cracking his knuckles before the shop door closes behind Jimin. ___________

Yoongi doesn’t let go of Jimin’s wrist the whole journey back to his penthouse suit. Jimin is still trying to process what’s going on, trying to keep a lid on the building panic attack he can feel simmering through his veins. He’s not sure how he’s feeling, he’s feeling so much that there’s no space for it all inside him. He’s only small after all. Yoongi is silent, a set to his jaw and sharpness to his eyes that has Jimin on edge. Yoongi is angry, so incredibly angry, and Jimin has never really had to deal with him this impossibly pissed. He pulls Jimin out of the car before it stops, doesn’t entertain the sweet greetings from Mr Choi, the kindly doorman, who looks more than a little perplexed at the way Yoongi is dragging Jimin behind him. It’s not until the front door to the apartment slams shut that Yoongi finally lets go of Jimin. He storms ahead of him, his broad shoulders looking so tense and hands curled into tight fists at his sides. Jimin totters behind, trying to take even breaths in anticipation for what’s to come. He can feel an argument brewing ominously between the two of them, and Jimin isn’t sure if he’s equipped to handle it right now. Yoongi lets out a frustrated shout and slams his fist into the wall next to to his office door forming an ugly crack through the white paint. “Holy shit.” Jimin gasps, feet freezing to his spot by the hallway door. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I’m frustrated.” Yoongi grunts with a snap of his teeth. Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “Alright, you’re frustrated. There’s no need to take it out on the wall though.” “Shut up.” Yoongi hisses and Jimin recoils from the words. “No need to take it out on me either.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around himself again. There’s a heavy silence that falls about the apartment, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Jimin has never wanted to just crawl under his covers and sleep for an eternity more than he does now. He’s physically and mentally drained, he wants to cry and yet can’t find the energy to do so. He wants to scream and yet he can’t find the voice to set free. He wants to break, but his guilt won’t let him. “Will you kill him?” Jimin whispers. Yoongi scoffs. “He deserves it.” “N-no, he doesn’t.” Jimin argues. “He may be a dick, but he’s still a human, he doesn’t deserve death over something like this…” Yoongi turns to him, eyes so dark Jimin is struggling to find the spark of warmth and love that he usually has when looking at Jimin. “Something like this?” He asks, voice laced with pure indignation. “Sunshine, he was going to hit you.” “That still doesn’t warrant a death sentence.” Jimin defends. Yoongi huffs, kicking the coffee table and knocking it over. “It does when it comes to you.” “You’re blinded by your love towards me.” Jimin explains. “Stop letting it cloud your humanity…” “You wanna talk about humanity?” Yoongi shouts and the sudden anger fueled tone has Jimin practically jumping out of his skin. “You don’t know what the fuck they were writing about you on that website Jimin… there was no humanity anywhere on that site and I just…” “Wait, what website?” Jimin snaps back, eyes furrowing. Yoongi stares him down for a few moments, carefully debating the right words to say. Of which does nothing in Yoongi’s favour, Jimin knows nothing Yoongi’s going to say will sit well with him if he has to think about the right way to word it. “There’s a chatroom for your alumni year, your login information was in the letter.” Yoongi explains. Jimin’s face pales. “D-did you read it?” He whispers. “The chat?” Yoongi takes a deep breath then nods. Jimin’s not sure if he’s going to be sick from anger or from panic. “You had no right to do that.” Jimin’s surprised by how calm his voice is coming out. “Yes I did.” Yoongi spits. “I love you, I’m not going to sit around and let them say shit like that about you.” He scoffs, running a hand through his dark locks. “You don’t know the kind of shit they were saying.”

“Yes I do.” Jimin snaps. “I lived through years of it, I know exactly the stuff they were saying. It still doesn’t make it okay to kill them.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand.” “No, I really don’t.” Jimin folds his arms about his chest, anger filling his system. ”You know I’m never going to be okay with, or comprehend, the fact you kill people without batting an eyelash. So how do you think I’m going to deal with the fact you’d so easily murder someone over me?” “With flattery.” Yoongi spits through his teeth, eyes narrowed and sharp. He looks like he’s really trying to keep a lid on his anger. Jimin can very well see him breaking half the apartment in a tornado of rage if he doesn’t keep himself under control. Jimin rolls his eyes running his tongue over his teeth. “Do you even fucking know me?” “Don’t be like that.” “Like what?” “Act all superior. There’s no need for it, I kill people, you don’t like it, we know this. You can’t fucking snap at me everytime I do my job.” Jimin just stares at his boyfriend, struggling to find the right words to say here. “I snap because I care.” “Well, it’s irritating.” “Good, that means I’m doing my job correctly.” Jimin replies. “Why can’t you just listen to me?” Jimin pleads, voice softening just a little. “This isn’t what I want, please, this will eat me alive.” Yoongi’s eyes soften for a split second, before hardening once more. “Why are you getting so worked up over this? I’m protecting you from people out to do you harm. You’re acting like this is some kind of cause for divorce.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Don’t go cursing our future just yet, love.” There’s venom laced in his words, and a tiredness in his voice. This argument feels like it’s just going to continue going round in circles and Jimin wants to walk away from it, come back to it when Yoongi’s not acting so hot headed. “We’re not married, yet.” He spits out the last word and Yoongi flinches. “Hypocrite!” Yoongi shouts in defensive, arms flailing around beside him. “You don’t wanna curse our future? Then you should just fucking marry me and get it over with.” “Maybe I will!” Jimin shouts. “Fine!” “Fine!” Silence falls about the apartment, anger still sparking in the air between them, as they breathe heavily and let what’s just happened sink in. Did Yoongi just propose to him? Mid fight? And did Jimin just say yes? Jimin can feel his anger deflating, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “Do you have a ring?” There’s still a faint bite to his voice and it does nothing in melting the anger away on Yoongi’s face.

Maybe Jimin was just imagining things, maybe this was all just flung out into the air in the heat of the moment. Overwhelmed by so many emotions and thoughts that the two of them ended up exploding like fire and ice. But then Yoongi is reaching into his jacket pocket. “Of course I have a fucking ring.” He growls, steps quick and harsh as he makes his way over to Jimin. He pulls out a small black velvet box, clicks open the lid and pulls out a simple silver ring with a small diamond embedded into the band. Yoongi grabs up Jimin’s left hand, a little harsher than Jimin thinks he means to and slips the ring onto his ring finger. “There, now you’re my fiance.” Yoongi announces sharply, grip tight on Jimin’s hand, eyes staring wildly at the band on his finger. “Well then you better fucking kiss me you fucking idiot.” Jimin barks curling his free hand around the nape of Yoongi’s neck and pulling him in close. Their kiss starts off harsh, all teeth and tongue and fueled by lingering bitter anger in the wake of their argument. But with every second the couple’s anger melts away as the realization of what’s just happened washes over them. Their kiss deepens into something more desperate, into something more passionate and loving, and Jimin softens in the hold of his fiancè. They break away, clinging to each other like lifelines and there are stupid grins blooming across both their faces. “Did that really just happen?” Jimin whispers as if speaking any louder would break the magic around them and throw them back head first into their argument. Yoongi looks giddy with happiness, gums on full display as he smiles. “Yeah, yeah it really did.” He reassures, grip around Jimin’s left hand tightening. He knocks their foreheads together and takes a deep steadying breath. “For the record, we were never gonna kill him.” Yoongi explains. “Oh?” Jimin replies, but right now he couldn’t care. He’s high on the fact that he’s wearing an engagement ring on his finger, dizzy on the knowledge that Yoongi asked him to be his - Jimin can’t even find it in himself to care that it happened mid-fight. Yoongi nods, their foreheads brushing slightly as they cling to each other. “Turns out the fucker hasn’t been paying his taxes on his newfound wealth, we didn’t really need to do much, karma has a way of catching up to you.” He chuckles and Jimin can feel the happiness radiating off of Yoongi in waves and basks in it. “Hobi was just gonna rough him up a little, because I’m petty.” Jimin sighs. “You are petty.” He agrees easily. “But I’m 100% okay with that.” “You sure? You’re gonna have to deal with it for the rest of our lives now.” Yoongi teases. Jimin’s smile is so wide his eyes disappear in happy crescent smiles of their own. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter End Notes

Hello~ ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ So, it's like gone 3am here and I really wanted to get this chapter out to you today

because, well it's been a bit of a bitch to write. I knew that this was an important chapter in regards to Chim's character development and as a crucial turning point in the Yoonmin relationship, but I also wanted you to see more of Min Yerin because I feel like I've been sleeping on how amazing of a woman she is! (ﾉ´ з `)ノ But regardless of this whole chapter being planned out and my knowing exactly what I wanted to write, when I sat down to do so ... (＃＞＜) ... MY FINGERS JUST WOULDN'T TYPE! And I grappled with the idea of maybe switching this chapter and chapter 12 around because the beauty of flashback chapters is that they can go anywhere... but I AM NOT A QUITER NO SIREEE __φ(。。) So I forced myself to write this out, and I'm happy with the overal outcome of it, but I feel like I could do 150x better on it .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･. I came to the realisation today, whilst I waited up for my beta to finish being wonderful and edit this for me (SHOUT OUT TO MY GIRL PHOEBE) that the reason I was struggling, wasn't because I was having writters block, but more so because the subject matter is really hard for me to write about? I struggle with panic attacks on a regular basis, and although the cause for my anxiety isn't nessisarily the same as Chim's, the reason for them is still pretty hard for me to talk about and pretty hard for me to deal with. I feel like I planned to include this chapter because (as I've said before) I write alot to help me deal with things, and subconsciously my mind was like 'BRO, YOU GOTTA FACE THIS, YOU CAN DO IT!' ☆⌒(> _ 3.<

Min Yoongi 12:12am Don’t stay up too late, you should get a decent amount of sleep.

Park Jimin 12:13am I will, I promise. Deep breath.

Park Jimin 12:15am Ask me.

Min Yoongi 12:16am Ask you what, Sunshine? Jimin can practically feel the smugness radiating off that message.

Park Jimin 12:17am Ask me out, Yoongi-ssi.

Min Yoongi 12:18am Will you buy me that coffee you promised?

Park Jimin 12:18am Maybe, depends how satisfied I am.

Min Yoongi 12:19am So if I take you on a date that lives up to your satisfactions, you’ll buy me a coffee? Even though you paying me back has nothing to do with a potential date. Something about that seems a little unfair, don’t you think?

Park Jimin 12:21am Hmmm, maybe. But coffee shops make great second dates, Yoongi-ssi. I’m just thinking ahead ;)

Shit. Was that too strong? Is he coming across needy? What did Taehyung say on the way home when he was giving Jimin his ‘casual flirty texting 101’ master class? Something about not replying too soon? About giving a little bit of a chase, about not coming on too strong... Jimin groans flopping himself backwards on his bed, locking his phone so that he doesn’t have to look at his stupid message any longer. He’s such an idiot, how the hell is he supposed to know whether he’s coming on too strong? He’s never dated anyone before, he only ever messages the Kim brother and his mother from time to time. This is all new and uncharted territory for him, and he’s single handedly sunk his own ship. His phone vibrates in his hand, the screen purposefully pressed away from him and Jimin wonders whether he even wants to face his failure. His phone goes off again only seconds after the first time and Jimin knows that he’s got to face the music at some point. Deep breath.

Min Yoongi 12:25am Friday, 8pm lets get dinner.

Min Yoongi 12:26am Text me your address, I’ll pick you up. Well then. “Looks like I have a date.” Jimin mutters to himself, his voice laced with unconcealed awe.

____________ He can’t do this. He’s weighed up all the options, visualised every outcome that could possibly happen over the course of the evening and he’s pretty fucking certain he can’t do this. This is so unlike him, he’s so utterly out of his depth that he’s drowning before anything has even started. Of which should be more than enough of a warning that Jimin shouldn’t be doing this. He can’t do this. He can’t. But he wants to do this. Taehyung is out, which is just Jimin’s luck, and Seokjin has an essay due at midnight that he’s still fussing over like the perfectionist he is. Not that he’s told them where he’s going this evening, else they would be here calming him down whilst he freaks out. Jimin’s an idiot, he should have told them. But he had wanted to do this by himself, like an adult, without relying on everyone else around him for support. He’s regretting that decision now, he’s not an adult, he’s just an overgrown man child that needs constant reassurance. He’s dialling the number before he even realises he’s doing it, phone pressed tightly to his ear as he curls himself up in the corner of his room. All he had done was come in to try and find a nice outfit to wear, that’s all. But his lucky oversized blue jumper was nowhere in sight and the only clean clothes he had were ugly shirts he’d worn once and swore never too again. So before he knew it, his breathing was coming out a little more rugged than it should be and he was seconds away from having a full blown panic attack over clothes . He’d ripped everything out of his wardrobe and littered it across the floor, throwing garments around as if they were confetti. Eventually, he had to sit himself down, put his head between his legs and take some deep breaths. It had helped just a little, but then that dark horrible side of his brain had come alive, viciously planting seeds of doubt in his mind. He can’t do this The phone only rings 5 times before it’s answered, and there’s a hefty sigh that falls out of his lips when he finally hears the voice on the other end of the phone. “Hey Chick!” His mother sings. “I can’t do this.” Jimin whimpers, feeling so incredibly pathetic but at the same time just a little less panicked from the comforting sound of his mother’s voice. He can hear the slamming of cupboards and pots and pans in the background, the thundering of footsteps across the old worn wooden flooring of their house, and he can just picture his mother making a beeline for the living room. He knows she’ll curl herself up on the couch, turn off whatever drama she had been watching just so she can give Jimin her full undivided attention. “Okay,” She announces when Jimin assumes she’s

comfortable. “You’ve brought me into this story halfway through and I’m going to need you to go back to the beginning.” Jimin groans, why can’t his mother just read his mind? She knows him well enough as it is. “Can’t I only have,” He chances a glance at his watch, lets out a strangled meep of a noise and then groans down the phone once more. “30 minutes.” “Key points.” His mother prompts. Jimin nods. “First date, no outfit, guy will be here at 8, can’t do this.” His mother squeals. She squeals so loudly that Jimin has to move the phone away from his ear as the noise pierces straight through his ear drum. She stops when she runs out of air in her lungs and then she goes and screams again, hands clapping merrily at the news. “Not helping Eomma! Focus up here!* Jimin calls over the high pitched Jisu warbles, fingers of his spare hand massaging his temple. Jisu giggles as she calms herself down, “Sorry Chick, this is just so exciting!” “Glad someone’s excited.” Jimin mumbles. “Aren’t you excited?” “Do I sound excited?” Jimin sounds hysterical. “I can’t do this Eomma, I just can’t.” “Why not?” His mother asks and her tone is light, breezy but supportive and it’s not what Jimin wants right now. He wants someone to tell him what to do. Wants someone to make his decisions for him, to take over his body and get him through this night because he really can’t do this. “I’ve never done this before.” Jimin practically whispers back. Jisu chuckles gently, “Sweetheart, of course not. That’s why they’re called first dates.” “Eomma!” Jimin whines. “Well I’m right.” She counters. “Everyone goes through a first date Chick, and everyone feels just as scared, nervous and totally out of depth as you do too.” “They do?” Jimin is sceptical. Jisu just hums, her voice sounding a little distant as Jimin assumes she switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Sure they do, wanna know how I calmed myself down before my first date?” “Please.” Even if his mother’s advice is sounding like nothing comforting to him right now, advice is advice and he’s honestly desperate for any kind of reassurance. “I remembered the way my date made me feel.” She explains. “The warm tingling sensation that spread through my skin at the thought of the guy. Like when you take a long sip of tea on cold night, or shot a warm cup of soju. He made me feel light and dizzy, kind of giddy with anticipated excitement and it was like I was waiting in line for a rollercoaster that I hadn’t seen before.” Jisu sounds wistful as she reminisces on feelings from a long time ago. Jimin has never seen her date

anyone over the last 22 years of his life, and he hates to think that maybe his mother is talking about the first date she had with his father. Jisu deserved then and now, the world. “You gotta think about all the reasons you want to do this, you’re not the first person to get freaked out over a first date. Your following the footsteps of many that have come before you, and if they can do it, why can’t you Chick?” His mother asks softly. “I, I don’t know.” “Exactly,” She exclaims excitedly. “So pull yourself together, throw on that oversized black sweater you bought last month and a pair of light jeans and get out there and see what kind of stuff you’re made of.” Jimin smiles, wishing more than anything he could wrap himself up in his mother’s arms and get one of her bone crushing hugs. But he supposes her little pep talk will have to do for now. He doesn’t really feel any less scared, nor any more confident, but he feels a bit more calmer. His mother and her weird words of wisdom have that effect on him, after all. “Okay.” He sighs, pinching his cheek to wake him up a little bit. “You got this, I didn’t raise a quitter Park Jimin.” Jimin giggles. “No Eomma, you really didn’t.” “Now get going,” She orders in that no nonsense voice she used to use to get Jimin to do his homework. “You’re late, for a very important date.” _____________

Jimin answers the door at exactly 8 sharp and Yoongi takes the breath right out of his lungs. In fairness, he’s only seen the man twice, and his brain kept unhelpfully reminding him how incredibly handsome a being he was – practically out of Jimin’s league – but his memory really hadn’t done him justice. For here Yoongi stood, in all his wonderful glory. His outfit consisted of tight fitting dark wash jeans and a black shirt opened at the collar to reveal sharp milky pale collar bones. A striking difference to the sophisticated and modest suits he had previously seen the man wearing. His blonde hair, parted to the side and left to flop into his eyes, looked brighter than he remembered honey and lemon colours bleeding so prettily together. His long fingers were slipped into his jean pockets, feet clad in shiny black shoes that clearly looked designer, but Jimin wouldn’t be a very good judge of that. There’s a singular silver earring dangling from his left ear, a faint pink dusting his high cheek bones and and his eyes glisten with untold promises and secrets that Jimin can all too easily see himself falling into. Yoongi looks like he’s stepped out of the pages of a glossy magazine; kind of intimidating and bold in a way that Jimin has always wanted to be like too, but could never get the confidence. The only thing keeping Jimin from hyperventilating and slamming the door in the face of the guy who looks

far too good for him, is the fact he’s smiling that childish gummy smile. Jimin decides then and there that Yoongi’s bright gummy smile is the best look he’ll ever see on this guy. He’s pretty certain that if Yoongi were to ask him to kill a man and then flash him that gummy smile, Jimin all to easily comply. He knows he’s a sucker for the gummy smile already, and this is only their third meeting. “Hi!” Jimin greets, feeling the infectiousness of Yoongi’s smile push his own across his face. “You’re right on time.” “I like to keep my promises.” Yoongi explains with a casual shrug of his left shoulder. “Ready to go?” Jimin nods, grabbing his bag and practically throwing himself out the door. Suddenly he’s feeling a lot more excited and a lot less nervous now that Yoongi’s actually here. He’s surprised he hasn’t gotten whiplash from all these conflicting and changing emotions. “Where are we headed?” Jimin asks once he’s locked the door. Yoongi leads them back out the apartment complex, “Actually, I kind of realised that I don’t really know what food you like, so I didn’t make a reservation anywhere...” He runs his hand over the back of his neck, probably a nervous habit and Jimin finds it a little endearing. Jimin smiles at his feet, the action small and a little timid but at the realisation that he’s not the only one nervous about this date, Jimin feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “We could walk until we see something that takes our fancy?” Jimin suggests. “Sure, if that’s alright with you?” Yoongi asks, eyes twitching towards Jimin just for a brief moment before they turn to look back in front of him. Jimin steps a little quicker to fall in place with Yoongi, shoulders so close they’re practically brushing and Jimin twiddles aimless with his ring clad fingers. “Sounds great.” _____________ Eventually the two of them find themselves standing outside a rather old looking burger joint, the paint peeling from the wooden door of the entrance and around the large glass windows. The sign above the door has faded so much from weather damage that Jimin really couldn’t make out what it says, but there is a heavenly scent wafting it’s way out to them. Yoongi holds the door open so Jimin could walk in first, the shop void of customers and eerily quiet, but now that they are inside, the scent of sizzling burgers and salty fries is mouth watering. The inside was just as shabby looking as the outside; plastic tables with white, worn table cloths and mismatched chairs littered the space. There are badly painted copies of renaissance paintings hung in rather peculiar places across the walls. A particularly shoddy job of the last super, in which the artist had forgotten to give them eyes, hung above the till at the back right of the shop, and above a safety hazard of a fireplace hung a Mona Lisa with pink hair. “Shit, this place looks like it’s gonna give us food poisoning.” Yoongi grumbled, nose turned up at the low prospects of the restaurant. Jimin shrugged. “I dunno, smells pretty good to me.” He smiles, eyes scanning around for a waiter.

Jimin is having a really hard time trying to understand what the theme of the restaurant is exactly – Italian mixed with American? Honestly it just looked like the owners decorated with things they found cheap at a flea market. There’s one door at the back with a ‘gone fishing’ sign stuck across the pealing dark blue paint of which Jimin assumed lead to the kitchen. “We can go somewhere else.” Yoongi offers. “If I put in a call we can get a reservation at Pierre Gagnaire...” Jimin batters his hands towards Yoongi dismissively, “Here is fine money bags.” He counters. “Besides, I can’t afford a place like Pierre Gagnaire.” “I was going to pay, obviously.” Yoongi retorts. Jimin bristles at the comment, turning a sharp gaze on Yoongi. “Who said I’d let you?” Yoongi cocks an eyebrow, almost challenging. “I was the one to ask you out, I should be the one to pay.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “This is the 21 st century, we can just split the bill.” Yoongi steps just a little closer into Jimin’s space, finger smoothing against the little crease in the middle of Jimin’s eyebrows. “What if I want to pay for you? I like spoiling people.” Jimin’s eyelashes flutter at the sudden close proximity, mind blanking as he in hails sandalwood and a spicy tang of an surly expensive cologne. “I –I’m not used to that, being spoiled.” Jimin mutters truthfully. Yoongi’s fingers come up and brush a few strands of hair away from Jimin’s forehead, his touch is hot, even against Jimin’s flushed skin. “That’s sad to hear, Sunshine.” Jimin feels a little small, “I – “ “Oh, table for two?” The waiter asks, appearing pretty much out of thin air and completely spoiling whatever moment the two of them where sharing. Jimin’s face is completely red as he steps out of Yoongi’s space, eyes turned down to the floor as he swallows down his embarrassment. “I suppose we can sit anywhere?” Yoongi replies to which the waiter must nod too because suddenly Yoongi is walking towards a table by the window and Jimin scuffles across the worn floor to keep up with him. Yoongi holds out Jimin’s chair for him, to which the student slips into quickly, eyes still averted to the floor and face getting hotter by the minute. Yoongi sits opposite him, the waiter mutters something about being right back with some water before slipping menus onto the table. Then the guy is walking away from their table, back to wherever the hell he came from and the two are left in silence again. Jimin picks up the menu, just for an excuse to hide his face and take a couple steadying breaths. That was a little too much for his weak heart to handle, his heart thumping so hard in his chest it could very well just smash right out of there and Jimin’s so thankful that they were interrupted at the time they did. He’s not really sure what could have happened if they had been left alone. Yoongi seems like an important guy, considerate too, so Jimin’s pretty certain he wouldn’t try anything with Jimin on a first date.

His stomach swoops oddly at that thought, almost like he’s disappointed and Jimin pinches his cheek to snap himself out of that thought. No kissing on the first date, both Seokjin and Taehyung had told him that on numerous occasions. “Know what you want?” Yoongi asks, voice calm as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and Jimin wants to mentally kick himself. He needs to calm down, count to ten, get a grip and act like an adult. He is not a lovesick teenager. “Um,” Jimin replies in a strangled voice as he lowers the menu. “Not really.” He replies truthfully, he hasn’t even looked at what’s on the menu. Yoongi smiles, not the usual gummy smile that Jimin is certain would calm him down, but it’s still sweet and reassuring. “Want to share something? The portions look pretty big.” Jimin nods, thankful one of them has enough calm sense to get them through this evening in one piece. “I’ll eat anything really.” “Want me to pick something?” Jimin smirks, letting the menu flop back onto the table so he can rest his chin in his hand. “Can I trust you to pick something tasty? Will I end up regretting this decision?” He taunts. Yoongi smirks back, pearly white teeth looking a little wolfish. “You can trust me, Sunshine.” Jimin hums, tapping the fingers of his spare hand on the table. “And what if your choice is bad? Can I hold you responsible?” “You can hold me responsible, but only because I know I make good decisions.” Yoongi replies, eating up Jimin’s banter so easily. Jimin is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, “Your confidence is cute.” And there it is, that beautiful gummy smile that has Jimin’s heart jittering in the best of ways. “You ready to order?” The waiter asks, once again appearing from thin air as if sensing a tender moment and feeling the need to destroy it. Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from Jimin, smile still soft as he relays whatever he’s decided looks edible to the waiter, who scribbles the order down quickly before shuffling away. Jimin hadn’t even really heard what Yoongi had said, eyes focusing on the way his pink lips form around his words, fascinated by the way his bottom lip juts out a little in a cute pout as he speaks... “Sunshine? What are you studying?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin is pretty positive this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s asking him this question. Jimin blinks himself back into reality and removes his chin from his palm. “Teacher.” Yoongi’s lips quirk ever so slightly at the edges, clearly amused. “You’re studying teacher?” Jimin must look just as mortified as he feels, if Yoongi’s retorting chuckle is anything to go by. “I meant I’m training to be a teacher.” “You should probably practice on articulation.” Yoongi teases, taking a swig of his water. Jimin whines, slumping against the back of his chair. “Usually I don’t get this tongue tied, you make me nervous.”

Yoongi chokes on his water and Jimin has a hard time believing that he just saw that. Yoongi is so composed, there’s no way he’d be flustered over an offhand comment like that. “I, do?” He asks, trying to sound normal but his voice is a little pitchy. Jimin nods, “You’re very intimidating, and I don’t know if you know this, but you’re pretty hot.” It’s probably a good idea Yoongi decided to put his cup of water back down, because the man looks as though he’s choking on air this time. “You think I’m, hot?” He repeats, like a statement rather than a question, as if trying to comprehend what Jimin just said. Jimin runs a hand through his hair, “Well of course, I do have eyes, Yoongi-ssi.” “Yoongi.” “What?” Jimin blinks. There’s a deep red tint to the man’s cheeks that makes Jimin feel somewhat proud. “You can just call me Yoongi.” He clarifies, brushing a few strands of his own hair out of his face. Jimin beams, “I’d say you can just call me Jimin, but I have this feeling you’re incredibly attached to Sunshine.” Yoongi leans back a little in his chair, back still straight and hands fiddling with the plastic cutlery already out on the table. “Honestly, it suits you.” Jimin cocks his head to one side. “Your smile.” Jimin unconsciously runs his fingers over his bottom lip. “My smile?” “It’s bright and contagious, pretty like sunlight.” Yoongi elaborates. “I bet people are drawn to you like a moth to the flame.” Jimin scoffs, “No, they’re really not.” What a ludicrous thing to say, Jimin repels people more often than not. “I have this feeling I might not be what you think I am.” “Really?” Yoongi challenges. “I think you’re kind, stubborn, beautiful and incredibly shy.” He explains, with a small quirk of a smirk on his lips. “Am I wrong?” Jimin has never felt so flustered before in his life, but it’s a good kind of flustered, a flustered that has his chest feeling so light and warm. “I don’t usually do stuff like this.” Jimin explains, trying his best to dodge the compliment handed to him. “Eat at questionable burger joints?” “Date.” He blurts the word out before he can sugar coat his bluntness and it takes him a few moments to regret that. Yoongi is looking at him with a blank expression that isn’t really helping Jimin’s building hysterical paranoia. “I mean, I’m not weird, I don’t think so anyway, I just never have before, and with you I, just...” Jimin reaches for his glass of water and downs the contents as if owning a pint of beer. Yoongi chuckles, and there’s a soft gaze on his face that has Jimin relaxing. “I can’t say I’m not surprised.” He shrugs. “Honestly, when I passed you that second coffee I half expected you to tell me you were already seeing someone.” Jimin can’t help but laugh, hand covering his mouth as he does and eyes crunching up into little crescents. “That’s sweet of you to say.” Jimin explains, brain helpfully supplying him with numerous

ways in which he can prove Yoongi’s words wrong. “But like I said, no one really shows any interest in me.” Yoongi is quiet for a moment, looking Jimin’s face over carefully as if trying to capture every single detail that could easily go amiss. His eyes are soft, almost pitiful and Jimin doesn’t know whether he wants to squirm from the intense gaze or relish in the attention. “You really don’t see your own incredible worth do you?” Yoongi asks and he sounds so disappointed that Jimin can’t help but feel guilty. He shrugs, looking down at his empty table setting. “Sorry. I have my reasons.” There’s a finger under his chin, tilting his head to look back up at Yoongi. “Don’t be sorry.” He says and his tone is so gentle that Jimin could melt away into it. “It means I get to show you your worth, and I’d like nothing more.” Jimin gasps, gasps like a damsel in a period drama and yet can’t bring himself to care. That bubbling of a crush in the pit of his heart is sprouting into full blown admiration for this man he barely knows, and Jimin is both terrified and excited. _____________ Jimin doesn’t really know what constitutes as good first date conversation, but he has to say he really enjoys Yoongi’s company. He’s not surprised to learn that Yoongi runs a large family business, as the very essence of Chaebol emanates from everything the guy does. Jimin doesn’t pay much interest into his date’s wealth, a fact that Yoongi finds amusing but understanding and easily slides the conversation onto more personal things. Yoongi plays basketball, well, he did play basketball back when he was in High School. But Jimin can see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes as the man talks of a long lost hobby. He enjoys it when Yoongi monopolises the conversation, there’s a calming affect his voice has on Jimin that leaves him so content. If he could, he’d listen to Yoongi speak for hours, listen to anything and everything the other has to offer and bask in the deep timber of his voice. Jimin is perceptive, he always has been considering he’s spent most of his years on the side lines just observing life. So when he listens to Yoong,i he finds himself studying the man’s features and filing information away in his mind like little gems. Yoongi talks about Daegu in depth and with passion even though he mentioned it briefly, and Jimin can tell the place is important to him. He mentions music he likes, speaking of his favourite artists as if they were the leaders of his religion and has such a wistful way to his voice when he recounts how he slept in late that morning. However, Jimin feels like he’s only just scratching the surface to this incredible man before him. There’s something secret hidden behind his dark eyes, something important about himself that he’s trying very hard to hide away from Jimin. His eyes flitter nervously around the room every few seconds as if he were in the middle of a suspiciously quiet battlefield rather than a restaurant. He checks his phone every 15 minutes, doing so at a time that isn’t rude and can be concealed conspicuously, but it always changes his facial expression from gentle to cold. Its intriguing to Jimin to know that there is more to this man for him to learn about, because Jimin wants nothing more than to completely drown in him. He wants to know the way Yoongi likes his

eggs in the morning, whether he likes his curry sweet or spicy, his fears, his worries, what he’s good at what he’s bad at; everything. The good, the bad, the pretty and the ugly, Jimin wants to know it all and he wants to accept it along with the growing feelings he has for Yoongi. “Would you really hate me, if I be rude and go make a quick call?” Yoongi asks, phone already in his hand and chair slowly edging away from the table. Hate? Yoongi? Honestly, Jimin thinks that’s completely impossible now. He shakes his head, “Of course not.” He smiles brightly, placing their used cutlery on the empty plate their food had been on. Yoongi stands to his feet, with a relieved smile on his lips. “Don’t pay for this.” He warns with a knowing cock of his eyebrow. Jimin just hums, curling his lips into a mischievous smirk of his own as he watches Yoongi head outside. He makes sure that Yoongi is most definitely preoccupied with his phone call before he takes the bill to cash register and pays for everything. His bank account is screaming at him, but his heart is doing happy little cartwheels. He waits for Yoongi to finish, admiring a peculiar rendition of the Birth of Adam in which God is green and Adam is yellow. But it’s not long before Yoongi is back by his side, nudging against Jimin’s shoulder playfully as he admires the weird painting alongside Jimin. “You paid for everything.” Yoongi grumbles and it’s cute, so cute. Like a child that’s had their sweets confiscated. Jimin giggles. “Yup.” “I wanted to pay.” Yoongi argues. Jimin hums, “I think you’ll find I still owe you that coffee.” Jimin explains, nudging Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi pouts, pouts and Jimin’s heart is soft. “This is more than the price of a coffee.” “Now we have a reason for a third date.” Yoongi pauses, eyes trained intently on the painting before him and hand running nervously over the back of his neck. “I don’t really need excuses to go on more dates with you, Sunshine.” Jimin blinks blankly. “Oh?” “I kinda like you, that’s reason enough.” Jimin is on cloud nine, ascended from his body and is now just observing the sweet scene bellow them from the astral plane. His smile is so wide, so bright that it hurts and he finds himself tangling his fingers with Yoongi’s. “Yeah, me too.” Jimin whispers. _____________

They end up at an arcade just round the corner from the burger joint. Weirdly, it’s at Jimin’s suggestion, really not wanting this whole evening to end, consumed by a selfish spark of wanting to hold onto Yoongi all to himself for as long as possible. The walk the entire way there hand in hand. Jimin’s palms are a little sweaty and he’s pretty certain it must be an uncomfortable feeling for Yoongi. Yet every time Jimin tried to detangle their fingers, Yoongi just squeezed them together that much tighter and Jimin had to duck his head from his blush. “Remember I said that I like to spoil people?” Yoongi asks as the arcade doors open and they’re hit with the blistering sound of 8 bit tunes. “You might have mentioned it.” Whilst you were inches away from my face. “I’m going to win you something.” Yoongi explains tugging Jimin through the bright flashing lights of endless games. “Figured you’d accept something more modest rather than lavish.” Jimin giggles as they meander between the machines. “You think you have enough skill to win something out of an arcade machine? These things are rigged you know?” Yoongi looks cocky, smug smirk pulling at his lips. “Just watch me, I bet I can win you something in 5 tries or less.” “You’re a little full of yourself, you know that?” “I’m confident in my abilities.” Yoongi shrugs stopping in front of a crane machine near the back of the arcade. “This one.” Jimin cocks his head to one side, not really understanding why out of all the cute plushies and nickknacks littered about the numerous machines; Yoongi picked this one. There are only three plushies inside, three big squishy looking baby chicks of varying colours and all of them are at least double the size of your average stuffed toy. “Why chicks?” Jimin asks. Yoongi shrugs, “They remind me of you.”

Jimin giggles, red dusting his cheeks as Yoongi untangles their hands to fish his wallet out his pocket. “I do not look like a baby chick.” Yoongi isn’t really paying Jimin much attention as he slots his money into the machine. “You have the same cute aesthetic as a baby chick.” He explains conversely, like it’s no big deal Jimin feels like he could melt through the floor from Yoongi’s words. “What colour do you want?” “The yellow one.” Jimin replies quickly, so glad that Yoongi can’t see his bright red face. “Green and pink chicks are a little weird.” Yoongi chuckles, pressing the start button and getting to work. The machine suddenly far louder than it was a minute ago as Yoongi navigates the claw with the flimsy looking joystick. Jimin’s eyes are on the CEO’s hands, his fingers are long, somewhat delicate looking, yet there are numerous scuffs and cuts across his knuckles. If Jimin didn’t know any better, it looked as though Yoongi had been in a fight before their date. But with just how soft and caring and kind Yoongi appears to be, Jimin can’t see him partaking in

petty fights. Unless maybe he works out? Now there’s a dangerous thought that has Jimin’s teeth worrying into his lip. Maybe he likes throwing a few punches against a bag and forgot to wrap his hands just this once. Jimin subtly eyes the expanse of Yoongi’s back as he huddles over the joystick ever so slightly. His shoulders are pretty broad now that Jimin’s looking at them more closely, and he can see definition of muscles over his shoulders that could definitely come from throwing a few punches... “Fuck.” Yoongi rasps, banging his fists on the machine. Jimin snaps his head back to the game just as the squashy yellow chick slips right out of the claws clutches. There’s a little crease between Yoongi’s eyebrows, frustration induced no doubt, and Jimin hides his amused smile behind his hand. He pays closer attention to Yoongi’s strategy this time around, the man clearly going for the tactic of pushing the toy as close to the hatch as possible. Jimin would have probably tried to hook one of the claw’s arms on the chick’s tag. But then again, he’s never really been very good at crane games, Taehyung’s the master of them, Jimin was always better at the rhythm games. The chick slips again, bouncing ever so slightly on the platform it had been resting on, and jostles further away from the hatch. Yoongi grumbles, fishing his wallet back out of his pocket again. “Its cool, I still have two tries left.” “Are you talking to me or yourself?” Jimin snickers. “Cos it sounds like you’re giving yourself a pep talk.” Yoongi just kicks him playfully in the leg before focusing back on his game. Honestly, Jimin thinks it’s adorable. Through the whole ordeal of trying to win this chick plushie, Jimin struggles to not giggle fondly at Yoongi’s futile attempts. He tries his best to hide his laughter, especially when Yoongi glares at him.

Not that Jimin’s intimidated, Yoongi’s glare is comparable to that of a kitten that you can’t help but give attention to when all it wants to do is curl away from humans. “That’s 70000 won you’ve wasted now.” Jimin points out unhelpfully as Yoongi pulls out even more money from his thinning wallet. “You way past your promised ‘5 tries’, why not just give up?” “It’s mocking me.” Yoongi grouses, slipping the money in the greedy machine. Jimin bites down on his lips to stop his laughter, composing himself before talking again. “Mocking you huh?” He reiterates. Yoongi shoots him the softest glare Jimin has seen yet before turning his head back to the machine. “Plus it’s the principle of the matter, quitting isn’t an option.” “We’re not on the battlefield.” “Might as well be.” Yoongi mumbles under his breath, but Jimin hears him loud and clear and has to cover his hand over his mouth to hide his wide grin. Turns out, determination and stubbornness really do pay off, because in just three more tries Yoongi

manages to drop the stupid yellow chick into the hatch. Yoongi looks a perfect mixture of awed surprised and utter smugness as he watches the toy drop into the goal. But in the excitement of finally winning the damn thing after an epic struggle, Yoongi turns to encase Jimin in a victory hug that has Jimin melting from surprise to content. Yoongi’s woody, burgundy scent gently encases around him, wrapping him in security, happiness and excited anticipation. His heart flutters so wildly in his chest that he’s pretty certain Yoongi can feel it from where their chests are pressed together. Yoongi pulls away as if the action is nothing important, as if it’s the most natural thing to hug Jimin even though the two still barely know each other. God, Jimin wishes he could be that confident, because if he was, he’d fling himself at Yoongi and demand another hug. He can see this being an addictive pass time if they continue to see each other. Fuck, Jimin doesn’t want to think about them parting ways and never seeing Yoongi again. Everything’s just starting, he doesn’t want it to stop. Yoongi grabs the large chick out of the machine and thrusts it into Jimin’s arms. Jimin smiles, hugging the thing tight to his chest; not a good substitute for Yoongi, but he guess it’ll have to do. “Thank you, I’ll cherish him.” Jimin replies, nuzzling his face into the soft material of the toy. The thing is most definitely mochi squishy, far squishier than it looks to be and Jimin’s actually incredibly happy that Yoongi persevered to get this for him – even if he did waste so much money. Yoongi’s smile is fond, features gentle as he watches Jimin hug the chick to death. “It’s getting late, I’ll walk you home?” Jimin can’t hide the disappointment on his face, the swooping sadness in his stomach over the fact they have to part ways. Yoongi pushes a few strands of hair out of his face, fingers lingering against Jimin’s skin in the wake of his action. “I’m glad to see the feeling’s mutual.” He whispers, and even in the harsh loud beeping of the arcade games, Jimin can still hear his raspy voice loud and clear. “What feeling?” “Not wanting to part yet.” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin reaches up to tangle his hand back in Yoongi’s again, subtly and gently brushing his thumbs over Yoongi’s assaulted knuckles. “I suppose all good things must come to an end.” Yoongi hums. “Until next time.” Jimin nods, “Until next time.” ____________

One week later

The door to the coffee shop dings loudly in the quiet of the space, Jimin pretty much the only customer it’s had for hours now. In an act similar to that of Pavlov’s dogs, Jimin’s head snaps to the

door, hopeful smile on his face only for it to drop into a childish pout when a random face walks into the shop. “You look like a kicked dog, stop it.” Taehyung scolds as he pretends to clean the table next to Jimin’s for the 6 th time in the last hour. Jimin huffs, pushing his neglected study materials across the table. “I’m fine.” “No, you’re lovesick.” Taehyung corrects snapping his rag in Jimin’s direction and spraying little droplets of water over Jimin’s face. “Just organise another date if you like him that much. It's not that hard.” Jimin folds his arms across the table and flops his head on top of them. “What do you think we’ve been talking about all this time? The weather? Yoongi’s not exactly a free man.” Taehyung clicks his tongue lounging into the seat opposite his best friend. “Well, being in charge of the Min Group would make you an incredibly desired and unattainable man.” “Not helping.” Jimin whines into the crook of his arm. “My bro, my soulmate, platonic love of my life, listen to me and all my wisdom.” Taehyung begins in a pompously loud voice that has the only other customer in the store turning in their direction. “He likes you, you like him, life has a way of working itself out. Just be patient.” “I don’t wanna be patient.” Jimin mutters like a spoiled brat. He doesn’t have any claim over Yoongi really, they’ve only had one date and the rest of the world has stronger ties to the man than Jimin. But there’s something nasty that swirls in his head, telling him every now and then that maybe Yoongi doesn’t like him, maybe he’s just humouring Jimin out of pity. Jimin really, really , doesn’t like those thoughts. Taehyung knocks him on the back of the head lightly and Jimin turns to look into the wonderfully supportive, bright eyes of his best friend. “Get outta your head. You’re guaranteed a second date, your both just busy.” Jimin sighs. “I know.” “Taehyung! Stop sitting around and get back to work!” The manager yells from the other side of the empty shop and Taehyung jumps from his seat like he’s just been electrocuted. “Yes sir!” He exclaims more like a cadet in the army than a barista being scolded, before shooting Jimin an apologetic look and scampering over to the counter again. _____________ Two weeks later

Yoongi 01:12pm Okay, I’m taking the bull by the horns and cancelling my Sunday morning meeting. That second date needs to happen, Sunshine.

Sunshine 01:12pm >.< I go to church Sunday morning! But I’m free after midday??

Yoongi 01:13pm I have business to take care of that afternoon. I have to be the one to do it. Fuck.

Sunshine 01:14pm You shouldn’t be working on a Sunday anyway! If god rested then so should you!

Yoongi 01:15pm I don’t know about god, but I’m always working, baby. Fuck I wanna see you, I wanna hear your voice, I wanna hold your hand.

Sunshine 01:16pm Me too, so badly. Call me?

Yoongi 01:17pm Of course Sunshine. Give me 5. _____________ Three Weeks Later

“Hyung’s coming round to knock some sense into you.” Taehyung sighs, flopping net to Jimin

where he’s curled up on the couch. He’s on his phone, something he’s always doing now-a-days, Yoongi’s chat open constantly and a blissful smile on Jimin’s face. Jimin does spare a moment to gaze quizzically at his best friend. “Why do I need to have some sense knocked into me?” Taehyung snatches Jimin’s phone out of his hands and the later makes a shocked squeak of a noise. “This. Is. Ridiculous.” Jimin snatches his phone back. “What’s ridiculous?” “You’ve basically got yourself a virtual boyfriend.” Taehyung counters. “I’d be worried, but I at least know you’ve met this crush of yours in real life.” Jimin puffs out his cheeks, “He’s not my boyfriend.” “ Virtual boyfriend.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He snap, eyes turning back down to the phone in his hands. Yoongi 06:32pm I really miss you, Sunshine. “I just really like him.” Jimin mutters like it’s the most important and prized secret that he holds. Taehyung sighs, head lolling back to rest against the back of the couch. “I know.” He pulls Jimin into a side hug, a little awkward considering the way the two are curled into balls next to each other, but it’s still filled with the same warm Taehyung affection. “I’m happy for you, Chim.”

Four weeks later

Yoongi 12:00am I’m going to be in Daegu for a month.

Sunshine 12:01am Honestly, Daegu can do one! It’s seen you numerous times before, I want to see you!

Yoongi 12:02am Cute. But I can’t get out of it, business.

Sunshine 12:02am I worry about you and the amount you work. It’s not healthy.

Yoongi 12:04am It’s okay, I have this sweet little ray of sunshine That sends me messages to make sure I eat, sleep and drink water.

Sunshine 12:05am Like I said, I worry about you. Don’t shrivel away before I get to see you again.

Yoongi 12:06am Shit, a month is too long a time. I’m going to steal you for a whole week.

Sunshine 12:10am I honestly wouldn’t be opposed. You could steal me away for a whole month and I’d let you. That’s how much I miss you.

Yoongi 12:10am That last message reads like you wanted to write something else other than ‘miss’

Sunshine 12:11am I did >.< But they’re words that deserve more than a message.

Yoongi 12:12am Okay, 1 month, 4 weeks, then you’re all mine.

Sunshine. 12:12am Call me everyday.

Yoongi 12:13am I plan too. ____________ 8 weeks later

Jimin has been thinking a lot recently about kissing. He’s not a stranger to kissing, he sees it all the time in dramas, out in public and in movies, so he’s not particularly embarrassed by it. But the thought of him kissing someone just reduces him into a puddle of goo. No, that’s a lie, the thought of him kiss Yoongi just has him giggling and wriggling like a kid. It’s no secret he wants to kiss Yoongi, he talks about it every second he gets with Taehyung. His best friends clearly amused by Jimin’s need for reassurance towards the act, but Jimin doesn’t care.

Because it’s reached the point now where he’s referring to Yoongi as his boyfriend, even though they’ve been on one date and have been talking non-stop for 2 months straight. Phone calls that go on for hours on end, sweet morning messages and longing goodnight texts muddled together throughout the past two months they’ve been getting to know each other. Jimin’s never been more thankful that he lives in a world with advance technology, else Jimin would still be a pinning self conscious mess over not getting to see Yoongi this long. But then again, there’s only so much constant talking can do before the need to be near the man he so clearly likes becomes too strong. He’s pretty desperate to see Yoongi now, he’s debated with himself a good three time over the last week alone as to whether he should just hop on a train and go search for the man in Daegu. He heaves a deep sigh, swirling a spoon round his coffee aimlessly as his thoughts run away with him. He message Yoongi all but 10 minutes ago, and he can feeling himself becoming one of those clingy needy partners as his fingers itch to text him again. “You’re too young to be heaving sighs like that.” A voice comments. Jimin jumps in his seat, beyond startled at the new voice and blinks blankly at the man before him. “Excuse me? He asks.

There’s a wide smile on the strangers face, blinding and bright, the type of smile that just has a person’s whole aura radiating with happiness. His hair is orange, fluffy around his head and parted to the side. He’s dressed in a suit of expensive looking black slacks and a crisp midnight blue shirt. He’s forgone the jacket, black tie so loose around his neck that Jimin thinks it’s not even worth him wearing. “I said, you’re too young to be sighing like that.” The guy repeats and the pitch of his voice is loud, not so much that it’s a shout, but in the same way children are a little louder because they’re always so excitable. “I heard you.” Jimin replies, cupping his hands around his lukewarm coffee, he’s barely had three sips of it. “My excuse you was more in the form of, I don’t know you, why are you talking to me?” The guy’s smile widens, if that’s even possible considering it’s splitting his face already. “We’re not exactly strangers because I know who you are.” Jimin shudders. “Nothing about that sentence is comforting.” “Sorry, I’ve been told I come on a little strong.” “Try a little creepy.” “I’m Hoseok, Jung Hoseok I’m...” Jimin perks up, having heard that name numerous times over the last two months. “Yoongi’s secretary.” Hoseok’s demeanour changes so quickly that Jimin is a little dizzy seeing it. His smile drops to a hard line, the brightness to his face darkening and it looks like someone put out the sun. “Is that what the asshole called me?” He demands in a harsh tone that has Jimin shrinking in on himself. “He said you’re really good at fetching things for him and dealing with problems he doesn’t want to deal with.” Why does Jimin feel like he’s in the middle of an interrogation? Hoseok sighs, “He’s dead to me.” “Oh god, I’m sorry.” Jimin squeaks suddenly feeling like he’s done something incredibly terrible. Hoseok batters his hand towards Jimin in a ‘don’t worry’ motion, though his face still carries a bitterness that says otherwise. “Honestly, he doesn’t deserve me.” He huffs before pulling himself to his feet. “Because I’m still going to sort the two of you out, despite him being a dick.” “Y-you,” Jimin stutters as Hoseok grabs up Jimin’s hands and pulls him to his feet. “Come again?” Hoseok just winks at him, smile returning to his face. “Just trust me, I’m about to make your entire life.” Jimin doesn’t get a chance to argue before he’s being dragged from the coffee shop, just having enough time to grab his bag from the floor. Hoseok drags Jimin three block away from the coffee shop gabbling the entire time to Jimin about how he’s so excited to finally meet him. Jimin tries his best to listen, but the guy is quick footed and it gets to a point where Jimin has to run to keep up. His little legs having to take double the amount

of steps as Hoseok’s long strides. “Where are you even taking me?” Jimin asks as they round a corner onto a considerably busier street then the one the coffee shop is situated on. He’s mildly sweating, face red and breath coming out a little more raged then it should be for someone who exercises regularly. He’s blaming it on the upcoming summer heat, the humidity already licking at his skin and suffocating him. Hoseok shoots a cheeky smirk over his shoulder, weaving the two of them through the sudden increase of people with incredible ease. “It’s a surprise, just hold out a little longer Mochi, we’ll be there soon.” Jimin flushes, “Mochi?” “I just wanna pinch your cheeks you’re so adorable.” Hoseok coos and Jimin feels like those mochi cheeks he likes so much could just melt of his face. They make it half way down the street, windows of skyscrapers on either side catching in the sunlight and glinting down at the busy street bellow, and Jimin feels more and more like he’s in a drama the further they run. But then Hoseok is stopping, turning to Jimin and grabbing him by the upper arms to spin him on his heels. Jimin is spun a whole 180 degrees until he’s facing the front door a very lavish looking building with numerous men and women in suits hurrying in and out of it. But that doesn’t matter to Jimin, because his eyes have zoned in on the only thing that matters, the only thing he’s been wanting to see over the past two months. “Sunshine?” Yoongi says, eyes the size of saucers and his mouth popped open in a cute little ‘o’. Boy, does his voice sound so much better in person. Sure he’d heard Yoongi numerous times on the phone over the last two months, heard the soft deep rasp of his words whisper sweet things into his ear. But in person, Jimin can feel his voice echo through his chest, warming it so contently. Yoongi’s halfway out the door, phone in hand and suit jacket flung over his shoulder. The blonde of his hair has grown out at the roots, his natural black poking through once again, but somehow it works, well at least to Jimin it does anyway. Jimin supposes he would like any look on Yoongi, that’s how infatuated he is by this man. He’s fallen head over heels for this man, utterly enamoured and enraptured by him and suddenly there’s only one thing on his mind. He bounds across the pavement, closing the space between them as quickly as he can, wanting nothing more than to kiss the confused yet happy look right off Yoongi’s face. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him down in a swift movement until their lips are connect. Yoongi instinctively wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, his large hands splayed at the small of his back and pulling him in tighter. There’s no fireworks, no choir of angels singing and Jimin’s foot doesn’t ‘pop’ like he sees happen far too often in rom coms. There is just the feeling of Yoongi’s soft lips brushing against his, his heart so full that it’s almost painfully heavy in his chest and the sound of the busy street disappearing until Jimin’s senses are just consumed by Yoongi. He’s not really sure what he’s doing, but that doesn’t matter, the feeling of wanting Yoongi, of

needing to show him just how much he likes him consuming him. He licks along the seam of Yoongi’s lips, and suddenly the CEO’s grip around Jimin tightens, mouth opening so easy for Jimin. The younger sighs contented as their kiss deepens, fingers slipping into Yoongi’s hair and scratching at his scalp. Yoongi kisses passionately, tongue licking into Jimin’s his mouth somewhat desperately, a sentiment Jimin all too easily understands as he gives as good as he gets. God, Jimin wants to kiss Yoongi forever, he’s already getting addicted to the intoxicating drug that is Yoongi’s lips. He feels like he’s enjoying the god’s ambrosia, and he’s never been more happy that he decided to take Yoongi up on that first date. They pull away, breaths panting between them and Yoongi pulls a large gummy smile to his lips that has Jimin’s heart fluttering. He knocks their foreheads together, in hailing the familiar comforting scent of sandalwood and burgundy. “I really like you Min Yoongi.” Jimin whispers. Yoongi pulls Jimin into another kiss, just as passionate but not as long and Jimin whimpers when the man pulls away from him. But Yoongi placates him by kissing the tip of his nose and chuckling softly. “God, I’ve been waiting so long to hear those words.” Jimin rolls his eyes, “It’s only been two months.” Yoongi pecks a chaste kiss to Jimin’s lips. “Like I said, too long.” “Tell me you like me back.” Jimin whines feeling like a bratty child in need of attention. Another peck to his lips, Jimin pouts wanting more but Yoongi just smiles wider. “Of course I like you, Sunshine.” Yoongi replies in a soft voice that’s only for Jimin’s ears. “I liked you from the moment you argued against me buying you a coffee.” Jimin hums, utterly content and so blissfully happy. “I still owe you that coffee, now that you mention it.” “Well, I’m free now.” “Really? I’m not interrupting anything important?” Yoongi snuffs a small laugh and nuzzles his face into Jimin’s neck. “For my boyfriend? I’ll make myself free.” Boyfriend. _____________ 6 months Later

“Lee, take a walk.” Yoongi orders his driver softly, fingers amusedly dancing with Jimin’s as he waits for the driver to exit the car and walk away. This is it. Jimin can just tell without the need for them to speak.

Months of pinning, of reuniting for the world to see just how desperate they are, and then two more months of lingering touches and adoring glances have lead to this moment. And Jimin is terrified. It’s not like they planned a specific time and place in which they’d finally have sex; far from it in fact. Neither of them have spoken about it because their actions speak far louder than words ever could. Jimin can tell that Yoongi wants him, it’s not hard to tell even if Jimin is a novice to this whole dating scene. He can feel the desire Yoongi has for him through the way he unconsciously licks his lips as he gawks at Jimin whilst he changes. Through the way his hands never seem to leave Jimin’s body, even when they’re in public, fingers gently massaging at the jut of Jimin’s hip, or the small of his back. He can feel his boyfriend holding himself back when they kiss, mouth moving against Jimin’s in such a sudden increase in passion that Jimin would all too easily succumb to the needs and wants of his boyfriend. After all, it’s so hard to resist the intense adoration and devotion Yoongi lavishes over him. Jimin feels like Aphrodite herself whenever he’s in Yoongi’s presence, the man worshiping every aspect of Jimin from his personality, to his body. A pill that is hard for Jimin to swallow considering he thinks so little of himself. No, no, that’s poisonous thinking. He used to think so little of himself, the mentality beaten into him through years of bullying that he’s certain will always stay with him. But now he is trying so hard to love himself, wanting the people who care for him to like someone who is not meek and broken. He wants to better himself, be his biggest fan; appreciate everything he has to offer through the good and bad, because he finds it difficult to see how people could love a being that doesn’t love themselves. So when Yoongi pulls Jimin into his lap in the back of his town car for their good night kiss, Jimin can already tell that things are different to how they usually play out. Yoongi likes holding the younger close to himself, grip tight and reassuring, yet calming and adoring as his arms snake around Jimin’s slight waist. There’s a different sort of charge in the air, electricity sparking like a live wire rather than pulsating like a constant charge. Yoongi’s touch is a little heavier, a little more desperate, taking his time to admire the curves and edges to Jimin’s face illuminated by the street lights outside the car. Jimin sits balancing on the precipice of anticipation, gaze nervously dancing across Yoongi’s face, bottom lip caught in his teeth. Even though Yoongi’s advances are always stronger than Jimin’s, the younger’s desire for Yoongi to have him, take him and mark him, is just as strong as his boyfriends. He wants to have sex with Yoongi, he really, really does. He’s fantasised about it more times then he’d care to admit, imagined the exact moment it would happen in his head and knew that there is no one else he would rather trust something as important as this moment too, than Yoongi. He wants Yoongi to be his first. But if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t think he’s ready for that to happen right now. “My Sunshine,” Yoongi sighs, so content, so happy. Jimin feels guilty, ashamed that he’s having second thoughts about wanting to sleep with Yoongi

considering his boyfriend has been nothing but kind, caring and supportive of him. “You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi grumbles quietly into the heavy silence of the back of the car. Voice so low in pitch it sounds almost like a possessive growl and Jimin shivers involuntarily. “How am I this lucky to call you mine?” Jimin’s heart is beating so wildly he can taste his pulse on the back of his dry throat, his hands are trembling as they rest against Yoongi’s chest and he balls them into fists so that Yoongi can’t see. Should he say something? He feels like he should say something. Yet he knows if he opens his mouth his voice will crack and tremble with unwarranted fear and Yoongi will stop. Jimin’s tired of being so selfish, doesn’t want Yoongi to hold back anymore because Jimin wants the exact same things. His fear is unwarranted; so he’s a little scared right now, so what? He knows without a shadow of a doubt that he wants to do this with Yoongi so he should just suck it up and face the unknown. He trusts Yoongi, he wants to make Yoongi feel just as good and appreciated as his boyfriend has done for him. And if that’s through sex, then Jimin can do it. So instead of words, he uses actions. He leans forward and slots their lips together, taking lead in the kiss when usually it’s the other way around. Yoongi melts against his touch, lips melding against Jimin’s, tongues tangling in pace with Jimin’s languid movements. Yoongi’s hands have smoothed around from Jimin’s cheeks to the nape of his neck, tilting Jimin’s head so that Yoongi can deepen their kiss, quicken the pace and take control. There’s a small thankful remark at the back of Jimin’s mind as soon as Yoongi takes over. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know what’s coming and the prospect of trying to take the lead here just ignites the growing fear in his belly. He’s not sure when it happened, but Yoongi’s hands are splayed against Jimin’s ass cheeks and Jimin can feel his boyfriend’s palms hot through his jeans. They detangle from their kiss, Jimin’s breath stuttering through his lips, face flushed and hands shaking more so than before. Yoongi’s fingers pull slightly at the waistband of Jimin’s jeans and the younger finds his fists tightening around the lapels of Yoongi’s suit jacket. “Take these off for me?” Yoongi asks politely, though his tone carries that dominant command to it that Jimin is all but weak for. Yoongi’s voice is equally as breathy, Jimin can feel his boyfriend’s dick semi hard against his own stomach from where they’re pressed so close together and tries to focus on the wonderful sensation of knowing he’s making his lover feel good. He’s honestly battling down his fear like a wildfire that just cannot be tamed. Gingerly, Jimin pulls away from Yoongi and goes to unbutton his jeans, fingers trembling so much that he stumbles with the button a good three times before he finally pops it open. Yoongi helps him get the material off his legs, Jimin’s heart is literally in his throat, his vision blurring slightly from where his nerves have made him light headed. He can’t look Yoongi in the eye as his underwear is removed to rest with his jeans on the floor of the town car.

Yoongi makes a pleased humming in the back of his throat, gathering Jimin back onto his lap so that his hands can now play with the globes of Jimin’s bare ass. Jimin is shivering on his boyfriend’s lap, closing his eyes and biting so hard into his bottom lip he’s sure he’ll tear the skin. “Sweet baby, that feel good?” Yoongi asks with a teasing tone to his voice that just makes Jimin feel so goddamn awful rather than good. Because yes, his boyfriend’s hands feel good, but he feels disgusted that he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want Yoongi. He is besotted with this man, God knows he craves this man so intrinsically, so why is he being such a coward? Why does this feel so wrong. He buries his face in Yoongi’s neck, needing a distraction from his disgustingly twisted thoughts and kisses at the juncture of his boyfriend’s neck and shoulder. Yoongi hums, clearly satisfied, fingers spreading Jimin’s ass cheeks wide and it bubbles hotshame across Jimin’s face. “Hold on, I need to grab lube and a condom.” Yoongi whispers into the shell of Jimin’s ear. He hadn’t even noticed his boyfriend’s lips had gotten so close to him, flinching at the sudden proximity and subsequently shuddering in shame. Jimin keeps himself wrapped around his boyfriend’s front like a koala, arms circling round his shoulders and tangling with the back of his shirt, far too mortified to move away. He doesn’t care that it probably makes things more difficult for Yoongi to locate the things he needs, but Jimin doesn’t want to see them. He just knows seeing lube and a condom will make everything more real and he might cry. He’s not gonna cry, he’s gonna be good. He wants Yoongi to feel good. Soon Yoongi is settled on the back seat of the car again, Jimin’s ass spread with one of his large hands. Jimin is holding his breath, lips pressed so close against Yoongi’s neck just to feel the calming scent of the man he likes. Its okay, everything will be okay. He feels a wet finger probe at his entrance, breath hitching in a higher gasp; head spinning from dizziness and he takes a few shallow breaths to keep himself from passing out. Yoongi works his finger into Jimin slowly and tenderly, but that doesn’t stop the stinging pain that shoots through Jimin’s spine. He goes ridged in Yoongi’s hold, back arching, head flung back and mouth open on a silent cry. Yoongi’s spare hand runs soothingly up and down Jimin’s spine, hushes and praise whispered reassuringly into Jimin’s ear. “Relax, baby, that’s right.” Yoongi coos and Jimin tries to listen, nuzzles his face back into crook of Yoongi’s neck and takes shuddering deep breaths. His hands are clinging so tightly to Yoongi’s shirt that it could probably rip. But he forces himself to relax, to loosen up, clenches his teeth against the weird intrusion and distracts himself via kissing his way across Yoongi’s collar bones. It takes a little while, but eventually it doesn’t hurt so much, Yoongi’s finger gently coaxing its way in and out of Jimin. But then he feels a second finger teasing it’s way at his rim along with the first and Jimin bites down hard on his lip to stop the whimper of pain escape from his throat.

“So good baby, so good.” Yoongi praises, and Jimin doesn’t really understand how this is making Yoongi feel good, but doesn’t question it, just lets it happen. He’s clenching his teeth so hard as the painful stretch of two fingers becomes three, that Jimin’s jaw feel like it could shatter. He’s ready to handle the pain if it means that this can be finished quickly, and he swallows down a sad sob at that thought. After what seems like an eternity, Yoongi finally suckles at Jimin’s lobe before whispering; “You ready, baby?” Jimin just nods, unable to remove his face from Yoongi’s neck as he feels his boyfriend shuffle to unbuckle his slacks. He’s lifted ever so slightly off Yoongi’s lap so that the CEO can pull his dick out. Jimin feels like he’s struggling to breath, knowing what’s coming next but not knowing the logistics of it has him spiralling into darkened fear. But then Yoongi is pushing in slowly, carefully and so tenderly that Jimin is scrunching his eyes shut, a strangled moan involuntarily pushed out through his clenched teeth. His bites so hard into his bottom lip this time that he can taste blood, but he’d rather that then break out into uncontrollable sobs. Yoongi bottoms out with a gruff moan of his own and Jimin is panting against his boyfriends skin. The stretch burns, pain double that of Yoongi’s fingers and Jimin is so fucking terrified now that it’s completely consumed his senses. The nasty side to his brain is snickering at him, uttering poisonous words of how Yoongi wouldn’t like him if he can’t satisfy his needs. Sharp thoughts tearing to shreds any self love and pride Jimin had learnt to give himself. His mind goes blank, limp in Yoongi’s holds as he just lets his boyfriend have his way. He’s trying to convince himself that the pain doesn’t matter if Yoongi feels good. This isn’t for him, this is for the man he likes. But it’s so hard when Jimin physically and mentally hurts. He can feel his orgasm swirling in his veins, mixing with his fear and making him feel so disgusted with himself. He cums between the two of them, a weak sob on his lips that he’s certain Yoongi can’t hear as he chases his own release. One, two, three more thrusts of Yoongi’s hips has him spilling into the condom, groan echoing round the back of the car and Jimin wishes he could feel satisfied that Yoongi feels good. But he just feels dirty. “Sunshine?” Yoongi asks, and his voice has Jimin flinching. Its so deep and so serious, so concerned. “You’re shaking, what’s wrong?” Jimin shakes his head, but he can feel tears he hadn’t realised he’d been shedding smudge against Yoongi’s skin and subsequently his boyfriend stiffens beneath him. “Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, tone teetering on desperate worry as he gently prizes Jimin away from his neck. He holds Jimin’s face in his hands, even though the younger can’t bring himself to open his eyes and look at his boyfriend. Yoongi’s gentle hands swipe away stray tears with his thumbs regardless . “Are you okay, Sunshine? Did I hurt you? Talk to me.”

And fuck, Yoongi’s kindness in the wake of the whole situation is Jimin’s utter undoing. The tears fall unbidden from his eyes, sobs bubbling at the back of his throat even as Jimin sniffles hard to try and stop himself. “You’re scaring me, Jimin, what’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, and he never calls Jimin by his real name and Jimin’s panic ignites through his body like flames. Yoongi adjusts their position, and Jimin whimpers like a kicked puppy as he feels Yoongi’s dick move against his sensitive walls. He covers his hands with his face in utter shame, choking back full on wails. “D-did you feel good?” He blubbers, not wanting to think about himself. Yoongi’s lips are pressing imploringly into Jimin’s forehead. “Of course baby, of course.” He placates and Jimin’s sobbing kicks up a notch. Jimin nods, “G-good, that’s good.” He mutters trying to stop his tears but they seem to have a mind of their own. “I wasn’t sure, what to do, b-but I’m glad.” Yoongi stills, lips lingering close to Jimin’s forehead for a just a few seconds before Yoongi’s hands are wrapping themselves around Jimin’s writs to pull away from his face. He lets his boyfriend do what he wants, knowing there’s no way he can hide now despite the shame that burns across his cheeks. Jimin opens his eyes slowly, not ready for the wounded look on his boyfriend’s face that greets him. He looks so heartbroken, so utterly crestfallen that Jimin’s guilt and disgust stab into his chest like a blade and he whimpers. “Oh, Sunshine.” Yoongi sighs, voice wrecked with such thick emotional sadness that Jimin never wanted to hear. “What have you done?” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jimin apologises, the words feeling like an automatic response. Yoongi says nothing more, pulling out of Jimin as carefully as he can, soothing his hands up and down Jimin’s spine when the younger’s sobs turn to whimpers of sensitivity. Jimin lets himself be manhandled by his boyfriend, Yoongi dutifully mopping up the drying cum between them with his jacket sleeve before throwing it across the back of the car. He gently manages to get Jimin back into his underwear and jeans, pushing his sweaty bangs off his face before taking up Jimin’s hand and dragging him from the car. Jimin follows blindly, eyes still streaming with tears as Yoongi leads them back into Jimin’s apartment, a thick uncomfortable silence clinging to them. Yoongi takes Jimin’s keys from his jean pocket, not bothering to let Jimin open the door for himself, before slamming his way into the shitty apartment. Taehyung practically jumps to his feet from where he had been sat watching TV on the couch, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as Yoongi storms his way into the living room. “Leave.” Yoongi demands and his voice is cold, so cold it has Jimin shivering. Taehyung, quick as whip when it comes to Jimin, steals his face into one of anger and concern. “Excuse you, this is my house.”

“I said, leave, Taehyung.” Yoongi repeats, clearly not here to play games. “My car is parked out front, get in it and tell Lee to take you to the most expensive hotel for the night, all one me.” Taehyung’s eyes are boring into Jimin, his gaze so hot it could burn right through him, and Jimin tries hard to send a reassuring look his best friends way. Clearly, it doesn’t work. “You think I’m gonna leave when Jimin is fucking crying and his lip is bleeding?” Taehyung scoffs, tone so sharp and dark that it sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. He’s only ever seen Taehyung really angry once before, a strange experience for Jimin to behold considering his usually bubbly bright best friend turns icy cold and vicious. It takes a lot for Taehyung to get angry, and it’s namely when those he cares about are hurt. The first time Jimin witnessed it was when they saw Seokjin’s ex boyfriend slap him on the face. Jimin wipes the drying blood of his lips from where he had bitten them too hard, and can see how Taehyung’s sudden anger is warranted. “Did he hurt you Chim?” Taehyung asks. Jimin’s eyes blow wide, because there’s no way in hell Yoongi would ever hurt him, well, not voluntarily anyway, the events of the last half an hour clearly an exception.... “No, Tae Tae, Yoongi hasn’t done anything.” He sniffles. It’s not a convincing enough story for his best friend. He glares at Yoongi, gaze so sharp it could cut diamonds. “Maybe you should leave, Yoongi-ssi.” Taehyung demands rather then asks. Yoongi’s grip on Jimin’s hand tightens. “Honestly, Tae, it’s fine.” Jimin repeats himself. “Please, just, just leave us for tonight? I’ll be alright.” “No.” Taehyung replies quickly. “I’ll call you later and explain.” Jimin swears, detangling his hand from Yoongi’s, heart breaking as his boyfriend struggles to let him go. He wraps his arms around Taehyung and squeeze him incredibly tight, gaining some small strength from his beautifully kind best friend in the process. “I promise on my mother’s life that I’m okay.” It takes a few minutes of Taehyung just hugging Jimin tightly before he agrees and detaches himself. He doesn’t say a word as he grabs his necessities and heads for the door, he doesn’t even acknowledge Yoongi. With the slamming of the front door the apartment is plunged back into a heavy uncomfortable silence that had clung to them from the car. Jimin stares at his feet, sadness consuming his entire being to the point it feels as though it could just very well rain on him. Yoongi stays silent for a long time, and it churns the guilt and shame in the pit of Jimin’s stomach. He feels tears fall before he realises he’s crying again and is quick to hide his face in his hands once more.

Yoongi is all over him like a moth to the flame, arms wrapping tightly around Jimin’s lithe frame, pulling him so tight against Yoongi’s chest that Jimin’s feels so protectively crushed. “Sunshine, Sunshine, I’m so sorry.” Fuck, no, that’s not what’s supposed to happen. “No!” Jimin wails, hands clinging desperately to the front of Yoongi’s shirt. “N-no, don’t regret it, I-I wanted you to feel good, I-“ “Sunshine, enough.” Yoongi snaps, voice not to be messed with. Jimin flinches, doing as he’s told and Yoongi heaves a deep, sad sigh. “Just, enough now.” He repeats, voice softer as his hands comb lovingly though Jimin’s hair. Jimin breaks, wails muffled against Yoongi’s chest as he cries. And Yoongi takes all his tears, gently coaxing them out of Jimin with tender praise and soft hushes. _____________

Jimin cries for a good 30 minutes before his sobbing turns to little hiccups. Yoongi’s shirt in drenched with tears, the two of them now curled up on the sofa as Jimin does his best to calm himself down. Yoongi doesn’t press the issue at hand, and Jimin isn’t sure whether he’s thankful or not for that. Part of him just wants Yoongi to scold him for being so stupid, the other half of him just wants Yoongi to wrap him in a blanket and pepper his face with kisses. “We need to talk, don’t we Sunshine?” Yoongi finally announces once the room has been plunged into silence, Jimin’s tears all cried out. Jimin nods, the ability to find his voice not an easy one and instead takes a few steadying breaths. “You should have told me to stop.” Yoongi explains and his words hurt like broken glass against skin. “You should have told me that was your first time and we could have gone about things differently.” “B-but, you really wanted to and...” “It doesn’t fucking matter whether I wanted to or not.” Yoongi retorts not letting Jimin get out the rest of his toxic sentence. “The fact of the matter is you weren’t ready and now look where we are.” “I just,” Jimin feels like he’s trapped in a dream where he wants to scream but no words come out. Frustration thick in his throat as he struggles to fully convey what he’s feeling. “I wanted you to feel good, to return all the affection you show me.” Yoongi kisses Jimin’s temple, the younger’s head resting against Yoongi’s chest from where he’s sprawled on top of his boyfriend. “Sunshine, you show me affection just by being with me.” Yoongi explains. “I don’t need to sleep with you to know how much you like me, a relationship isn’t just physical. I’m sad you felt that you could only return my feelings for you through your body.” Jimin flinches.

“Th-that’s not it, it’s not.” Jimin mumbles. “Then tell me, help me understand.” Yoongi probes gently. Jimin nods, fingers fiddling with one of Yoongi’s shirt buttons. “I wanted it too, I did.” He implores. “There’s no one else I would want to do this with the first time, I trust you, I like you, you have to understand that I do!” Jimin is boarding on hysterical again and is so thankful Yoongi’s hands begin carding through his hair soothingly. “I know you do, and I’m so honoured that you would let me do something so special and so important with you.” Yoongi whispers, voice like a calming wind. “If you had just told me, that’s exactly what we could have done; tried to make it special. First times hurt, Sunshine and I don’t think you understand how fucking torn up I am about hurting you.” Jimin whimpers and Yoongi hushes him gently. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” Jimin takes a deep breath. “I, I didn’t want you to hate me.” “How could I ever hate you?” Yoongi sounds annoyed, and Jimin knows he has every right to be. “I’m sorry.” Jimin apologises. “I just got too caught up in the dark side of my thoughts and I couldn’t bare to stand the idea of you not loving me anymore and I just...” “Park Jimin.” Yoongi begins, tone not to be messed with. “I don’t like you for sex, I like you for you.” “I know that but – “ “Do you?” Yoongi’s words linger bitterly in the air and leave a sharp silence in the room. Finally, just as the silence is becoming too much to bear, Yoongi sits them both up right and cups Jimin’s face in his hands. “Listen to me, and listen good you hear?” He orders and Jimin nods timidly. “I understand that a lot of this is new to you, and you’re scared of trying new things. But the only way for you to overcome your fear is to talk them through with me. I like you, Park Jimin, every part of you, I want you to feel good in this relationship without sacrificing your own needs. Sex means nothing to me if you don’t feel good too, and if you weren’t ready for today, I would have waited for you.” “I don’t deserve to hear nice words from you.” Jimin mumbles, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the sharp disappointment to his boyfriends face. “I feel so guilty, because I wanted to have sex with you, but at the same time it just felt so wrong, and it hurt so much and I felt disgusting because I like you and I wanted this and I...” “You weren’t ready.” “But I –“ Yoongi plants a kiss to Jimin’s lips to silence him. “You weren’t ready, stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing wrong with not being ready.” “I’m sorry.” “Stop apologising, we’re both at fault here. This could have been easily avoided if we’d just talked.” Yoongi hushes, placing another placating kiss to Jimin’s lips. He knocks their foreheads together and

heaves a deep sigh. “Fuck, Sunshine, did I hurt you too bad?” “No.” Jimin replies quickly, finding Yoongi’s hands and squeezing them tightly. “You were so gentle, I just, wasn’t ready, was I?” He replies with a small sheepish smile. Yoongi kisses the tip of his nose before connecting their foreheads again. “No, you weren’t.” Jimin has never felt so lucky, he’s really not sure what kind of miracles he performed in his last life to be granted the ability to be with someone like Yoongi. He regrets not being brave enough to tell Yoongi to stop, ashamed that he had little faith in this wonderful man. But at least takes comfort in the fact Yoongi would drop everything to reassure Jimin, to tell him where he went wrong and make sure they talk through their misunderstandings. Yoongi is everything Jimin never knew he needed. The light at the end of a tunnel he hadn’t even realised he’d been stuck in. Yoongi is like the welcoming cool of the tide on a hot day, encasing Jimin in comfort, or the single light left on whilst asleep, constantly reassuring in the fact that he’s there. Jimin never wants to be alone again if it means he has to be without Yoongi. He wants to drown in him, suffocate in him to the point their lives are entangled so finitely that they’re almost one. He wonders briefly whether anyone has ever felt this strongly for another human being after only a few months of being together. Wonders whether it’s healthy to fall this absolutely for someone as dangerous and secretive as Min Yoongi, but Jimin honestly finds himself not caring. His mother has always told him to trust his gut and his judgement, and everything within Jimin screams to just fall into this beautiful man that he gets to call his own. Jimin sighs, body relaxing for the first time since they were sat in the back of the town car and rubs his nose against Yoongi’s. “You’re too good for me.” Yoongi scoffs, a dark edge to his chuckle that sounds almost like a secret Jimin’s not included on. “You have no idea how wrong you are.” He cups Jimin’s face as tenderly as if he were holding a porcelain doll. “You’re too good for me.” Jimin doesn’t question his boyfriend’s strange remark, he can tell Yoongi doesn’t want to be pushed on the subject and Jimin is happy to leave it. He knows Yoongi will confide his secret in Jimin at some point, it’s not his place to push it. Instead, he captures Yoongi’s lips in his, pouring all unsaid feelings and apologies and thank yous into the kiss, knowing that Yoongi will take everything greedily. It starts of tender, slow and calm before their skin tingles with the need for more, and suddenly Jimin is pulling at Yoongi’s hair and Yoongi is smoothing his hands down the expanse of Jimin’s back. “Can we start over?” Jimin whispers as they separate to breath. “What do you mean?” Yoongi asks quietly, teeth nibbling gently at Jimin’s bottom lip; unable to get enough of the younger. Jimin feels like Yoongi’s drug, and he feels so incredibly powerful knowing he can intoxicate the other so easily. “Yoongi,” Jimin begins, voice a little shy yet smiling as Yoongi continues to pepper kisses across Jimin’s face. “Can we make this my first time?” He asks. Yoongi stills, pulling away from Jimin’s face to gaze carefully into his eyes, searching for any sign that Jimin might be uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sure.” “You’re ready?” “I’m ready.” Jimin watches as Yoongi internally battles with himself for just a few seconds more before he leans in to place another chaste peck to Jimin’s lips. “Well, I would want nothing more then to make you feel so good, baby.” Yoongi grins gummily and Jimin nods, lips puckered for another kiss. Yoongi is quick to comply to Jimin’s wishes, but pulls away from Jimin’s lips with a concerned look. “I can feel you shaking Sunshine, are you 100% sure about this.” “Absolutely.” Jimin replies quietly. “But it doesn’t stop the nerves.” “Okay.” Yoongi replies, hands massaging Jimin’s sides gently. “What if I talked through it with you as we go? Will it make it less daunting for you Sunshine?” Jimin nods, teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he takes some meditating breathes. Yoongi chuckles, thumb resting on Jimin’s jaw to pull his teeth out of his lip. “Sunshine, your lip is hurt enough, don’t do that.” “Sorry, just, nervous habit.” Jimin sighs, fingers twiddling together instead. Yoongi takes Jimin’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly before he leans forward and licks over the bite marks on Jimin’s bottom lip. The younger flushes, humming at the soothing sensation of Yoongi’s tongue over the saw. “I promise I’ll try and make it hurt as little as possible.” Yoongi promises. “Did you want to try topping? It’ll be more gentle for you.” “I-I dunno, I don’t really know the logistics of it all, I didn’t do my research, and Seokjin-hyung just told me to make sure I shave everything .” Jimin whines. Yoongi sniffs out a laugh. “Well, it’s down to whether you’d prefer to fuck or be fucked.” “Crude.” “To the point.” Yoongi corrects, running his thumbs over Jimin’s knuckles. “If you wanna top, you’ll have to help prep me.” Jimin furrows his eyebrows, he doesn’t really have a preference, never thought about it before and never had the chance to really experience either side. Sure what happened in the car hurt, but he’s trying not to think about that, pushing it to the back of his mind claiming it as a mistake that they’re going to rectify. “What do you prefer?” He asks after a moment longer of pondering and not really getting anywhere close to a conclusion. Yoongi shrugs, “I prefer to top, but I’ve bottomed before, so it’s fine.” “Well, then, I wanna bottom for you.” Jimin concludes, it’s easier making a decision when your partner already has a preference. Yoongi shoots Jimin a disbelieving look of which Jimin rolls her eyes at. “Yoongi, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s fine. I’m not doing this because I think it’s what you want. You were right, sex would mean nothing to me if you’re not feeling good too.” He shrugs.

Yoongi sighs. “Good, a better mentality already.” Jimin nods. “Sh-should I strip or something?” “I’ll undress you.” Yoongi replies, fingers detangling from Jimin’s to grip the hem of Jimin’s shirt. He tugs it over Jimin’s head, throwing it carelessly to the floor before his fingers go down to the younger’s pants. In mere seconds, Jimin is pantless for the second time that night, but now that there’s no clothes on him at all, the colour of his flush is comparable to that of a strawberry. Yoongi licks his lips, hands running up and down Jimin’s sides as he stands bare in front of Yoongi. “So beautiful, and all mine, I’m so lucky.” Jimin whines, hands covering his face from sheer embarrassment, but Yoongi is there to remove them and kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m going to make it so that you never feel embarrassed of yourself around me.” It takes a while for Jimin to look Yoongi in the eye, hands twitching in his grip to try and cover his face again. “And how are you going to do that?” “By showing you everything I like about your body, by making you like it too.” Yoongi replies gently guiding Jimin towards his room. Jimin follows willingly, hands tightening in Yoongi’s grip as the CEO walks backwards through the door to Jimin’s room and pulls the younger flush against his chest. “I’m going to worship you in the way that you deserve.” Yoongi whispers into the shell of Jimin’s ear. Jimin shivers, and before he has a chance to react Yoongi is lifting him from the floor, one arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees. Jimin yelps as he’s secured bridal style in Yoongi’s arms before his boyfriend easily walks them over to Jimin’s little bed. He places Jimin on the mattress as gently as if he were precious cargo, and already Jimin can feel the difference in the situation to that of the car. Yoongi has whispered loving words to him then too, but there had been a insatiable heat and a misunderstanding that the feel was mutual. It was rushed and quick, Jimin can already tell that Yoongi is going to take his time, to make sure they both enjoy everything, Jimin’s fingers run along Yoongi’s arms as he steps away from the bed in order to strip his own clothes. Jimin watches with rapt attention as Yoongi quickly rids himself of his slacks and white shirt, heart picking up an erratic pace at the sight of his boyfriend naked before him. Yoongi likes to wear his clothes a little bigger, Jimin has come to find, a fact he thought nothing off until this moment. Because underneath all those expensive clothes he wears, Yoongi is utterly breathtakingly exquisite. Skin milky pale and toned, looking like a greek sculpture rather than a human being and Jimin’s throat feels dry. Yoongi isn’t complete muscle mass, he’s not tall and intimidating, but his abs are taught and he’s lean; looking very much like he could take anyone in a fight with ease. Whereas Jimin is stockier, muscles looking a little more defined than Yoongi, Jimin can tell just from one glance that Yoongi is stronger. “Like what you see?” Yoongi teases. Jimin nods eagerly. “I’ll like it better when it’s over here so I can touch it.” “Needy.” Yoongi chuckles before he climbs onto the bed and over Jimin, hands resting on either side of Jimin’s head. They’re silent for a moment just staring at each other, needing to savour the moment for all it is before they continue.

“So,” Yoongi begins. “Now that we’re both naked, let’s do something about it.” “Like what?” Yoongi’s response isn’t one of words, deciding to lick a strip up Jimin’s neck and reduce the younger in shivers. “I’m going to touch you.” “W-where?” “Everywhere.” Yoongi replies, lips trailing down Jimin’s neck and across his collar bones. “I’ve been wanting to bite into these collar bones since you wore that oversized jumper on our first date.” Jimin tangles his fingers in Yoongi’s hair, gripping tight as he tries to relax his mind and simply feel Yoongi. He’s feeling considerably less frightened then he had in the car, feeling a lot more prepared for what’s to come. He’s trying to relax, trying to melt into the bed bellow him as Yoongi’s lips tickle across his golden skin. Every now and then Yoongi will nibble and suck a mark against Jimin, the sensation making his toes curl. It feels good, not daunting in the slightest and Jimin hopes that things only get better from here. Yoongi runs his tongue around Jimin’s navel, dipping into it every now and then and Jimin giggles, the touch tickling. “I adore that sound.” Yoongi hums, a hooded gaze sent Jimin’s way as his hands smooth gently down Jimin’s stomach. Jimin cocks his head to the side in question. “What sound?” “Your laugh.” Yoongi clarifies. “If I could, I’d want to listen to it for the rest of my life.” Jimin is hot all over, probably as red a boiled lobster as he lies completely exposed and at Yoongi’s mercy. But he can’t deny that his boyfriends sweet words and tender touches are the best feeling in the world. He never thought he would ever experience this; the feeling of being romantically liked and to give the same feelings back. He had come to convince himself that he didn’t need it, that his mother had done such an amazing job out of her life without it, so why should he need it? He’s glad Yoongi showed him that it’s okay to open up to others, that to share your soul and your feelings with a significant other is not weak. It’s precious, the gifting of all your good and bad sides to someone who you trust to help you become an even better person then you already are. Jimin is so ready to accept Yoongi for all he is, so wholly convinced that Yoongi will raise him up rather than let him fall and Jimin is ready to share the rollercoaster of a life they can have together. Yoongi has slipped onto his knees, crooking Jimin’s leg so that he can gently press hot kisses along the younger’s thigh. Like this Jimin can see the little details of Yoongi’s body a little clearer. He’s littered in scars, some small and whispers of things that probably didn’t even hurt. But some are bigger, darker in colour as if drawing an intricate story of Yoongi’s passed and Jimin can’t help but let his fingers trace along each and every mared line. “Will you tell me what happened?” Jimin asks faintly, eyes not leaving the map of stories Jimin does not know about his boyfriend. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s hot breath against the skin of his thigh as he speaks. “One day.” He lets go of Jimin’s leg, letting it fall to the mattress so the younger can sit up right. Yoongi’s muscles go taught as Jimin’s fingers are replaced with lips, imploring lips that try their best to rid any lasting pain from the horrid looking scars. There are many things he wants to say, so many comforting words; yet Jimin remains silent.

Instinctively knowing that words just aren’t the right way to go; that Yoongi needs touch reassurance and thusly Jimin puts every ounce of feeling he has towards the elder into his kisses. “Why?” Yoongi whispers, teeth clenched ever so tightly and Jimin can tell he’s uncomfortable. Yet Jimin feels nothing but adoration for his boyfriend, because he trusts Jimin enough to let him do what he’s doing. Jimin looks up at Yoongi, his face twisted with poorly concealed sadness that Jimin has the urge to kiss away. But he doesn’t, instead he runs his fingers gently over Yoongi’s face, cupping his cheek and letting the elder place a chaste kiss to his palm. “Because I want to take care of you.” “Sunshine - “ Jimin’s thumb soothes against the apple of Yoongi’s cheek and lets the brightest smile grace his features. “It’s you and me, right?” Yoongi sighs; blessing Jimin with a beautiful gummy smile that had Jimin weak everytime he sees it. “Yeah, Sunshine, it’s you and me.” “Then, just as I trust you to take care of me, will you let me do the same for you?” Jimin asks. Yoongi’s gaze is soft around the edges and yet holds such an intensity that Jimin finds himself utterly hypnotised. The dark irises’ that Jimin has come to admire over these fleeting months sparkle with a fire of determination, shimmer with hope and promise that Jimin tries so hard to remember in all it’s beauty. “Without question.” Yoongi replies and his tone carried such heavy promises. It’s a tone filled with undeniable conviction, swearing his everything to Jimin without even battering an eyelash; and Jimin is completely gone. He nods, feeling so overwhelmed, suffocated by feelings alien and aweing to him that he feels small. Small, exposed and stripped; there is nothing superficial left of himself for Yoongi to see. He is just Park Jimin, but he is Yoongi’s Park Jimin. “Now teach me a new way to shwo you my feelings.” Jimin mutters with a content little smile on his face. Yoongi’s spare hand reaches round Jimin’s waist and pulls him right onto the elders lap. Their bare crotches brush, a hiss passed through both their lips from the friction and Jimin wraps his legs tighter around the CEO’s waist. “I’m going to worship you all night, my sweet Sunshine.” Yoongi promises. Jimin knows that not even the stars falling to the earth would force Yoongi to break his promise. God, he’s so hopelessly in love. Jimin supposes first loves are the things of epic stories for a reason; the passion in which they burn is as bright as that of a dying star. Taking all things with it as it consumes, unstable and uncertain – but oh so beautiful.

Chapter End Notes

Do you smell that? The end is near ヽ(●ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ●)ﾉﾟ there's only one more chapter and then an epilogue chapter to go and that's it, my baby is finished (｡•́︿•̀｡) But I'll save all the sappy thank you's and tears of gratitude for the actual last chapter~ Because honestly, I have so much to say to you all (ﾍﾟ◇ﾟ)」 I wrote this chapter very strangely, because I started with the last chapter (from 6 months later) and then wrote backwards? I'm not very good at writing meet-cutes, so I was struggling with the fact that I was writing a coffee shop AU for a while there (*´-｀*) But the last scene was really inspirational for me to write, the subject matter is an important one, and one that (as always) relates to me and thus I really wanted to shed some light on. TALKING IS IMPORTANT! (°◡°♡).:｡ DON'T SETTLE, DONT FORCE YOURSELF INTO THINGS YOU DON'T WANT! Anyway, ignore the formatting for this chapter I can't be bothered to fix it cos it's sooooooo long Σ(‘◉⌓◉’) As always, my heart sings for Phibi♥ and wonderful sunshine rainbow knight in shining armour and my Beta queen Lex♥ Come shout with me on twitter~~ hmu♥

Icarus Chapter Summary

How do I love Jimin? Let me count the ways...

Chapter Notes

For warning: there are some graphic scenes and graphic language throughout this chapter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It’s on very rare occasions that they both wake up at the same time. Usually, despite the fact Yoongi sees sleep as one of his most cherished possessions, he’s the first one up. Cons of the job he supposes, probably not the worst con of the job mind, but it’s in his top three. That’s just how much he values sleep. Though he’d never admit it, Yoongi spends a good 10 minutes admiring Jimin whilst his husband still sleeps. He etches every detail of his husband into his memory, savouring Jimin for all that he is and relishing in the fact that this wonderful man is all his. His fingers will gently trace along the younger’s round cheeks, flushed from sleep and adorned with slight indents from pillow creases. He’ll trace along the seams of Jimin’s plush lips, a little dry from the night, slightly open to show his sweet little crooked teeth. Jimin’s eyes are restless most mornings, fluttering around behind his lids and Yoongi instinctively finds himself running his hand through his husband’s soft locks in an attempt to soothe him. He’s never really sure whether his touch does the trick, but he feels more content to hear his lover sigh and subconsciously roll closer into Yoongi’s warmth. Jimin is a cute sleeper, he’s cute in everything he does, but this is a moment that Yoongi just gets to relish in all by himself and selfishly enjoy. His husband likes to cling to him, a trait that is unchanged from when he’s awake, and Yoongi is more than happy to hold Jimin close, no matter the circumstances. His ugly possessive side needs to constantly feel his lover around him to know that he’s safe. Safe, safe right now with Yoongi, safe in their home. But Jimin hasn’t always been safe, and he won’t always be safe either. A pressing and disgusting fact that hooks itself into Yoongi’s soul and dangles at the back of his mind, tormenting him. It’s why he takes his time every morning to remember the curve of Jimin’s face, the sweet caramel tone to his skin, the dusting of rouge across his full lips, his small hands as they search for Yoongi in his sleep. Yoongi wants to remember everything about Jimin, in exact detail, for he’s fearful that any moment spent together could be their last. He will forever hate himself for bringing so much danger into the life of someone who deserves more than the world, more than a Mafia boss as a husband. Yoongi will forever be both Jimin’s umbrella

and the rain, and he hates that the most about himself. “Yoonie?” Jimin calls and his voice is airy and laced with sleep. It cracks at the end, dry from where he sleeps with his mouth open and Yoongi smiles fondly. “Good morning, Sunshine,” he greets, lips pressing tenderly against the youngers eyelids, still closed to the bright morning that has now captured their apartment. Jimin sighs, nuzzling closer into Yoongi’s side and throwing a leg over his waist. His smile is wide, not the bright eye smile that Yoongi does so adore, but it’s still radiant to behold. His cute little content morning smile, clouded in dreams still, yet full of happiness that’s all for Yoongi. “Do you still love me this morning?” Jimin asks, as he always does on those rare occasions in which they both wake up at the same time. The words fill Yoongi’s chest with warmth, ignite love through his veins like a poison and has his mind giddy with utter bliss. It’s possibly one of the fondest and endearing things Jimin ever says to him, his needy and self-conscious side constantly seeking out Yoongi’s approval. He remembers the first time Jimin asked him this, laying bare across the bed in his old apartment, the sun bathing him in the golden rays of a new day. The light tangled around his pink face, illuminating the soft dips and curves of his body that had carried Yoongi’s freshly made marks. His hair splayed across the sheets below him like a halo, hands twisting the remaining sleep out of his eyes. ‘Do you still love me this morning?’ And Yoongi’s heart had suffered from mild cardiac arrest, his breath caught dry in his throat and his whole body had gone rigid. He spent the better part of five minutes having a mental break down, a battle of brain and heart, all whilst Jimin just rolled closer to him seeking warmth before falling asleep again. If you were to ask the couple now when the first time they said I love you to each other was, they would both tell you it was at the Min’s main residence, after Jimin had started an argument with Yoongi’s mother. But Yoongi knows that’s not the case. Because after almost a year of dating, of spending their first night together rewriting all the wrongs of their first time, Jimin had awoken in a sleep filled daze and asked Yoongi if he still loved him. Even though neither of them had ever said those three very important words to each other before. So of course, Yoongi descended into a brief moment of sheer panic, because how could he still love Jimin if he had never spoken of love before? Initially, he chalks it up to the fact that Yoongi had just taken Jimin’s virginity and the younger might be a little emotionally spent by this. They were still very new in their relationship, still had a long way to go in learning about each other and growing as a couple and Yoongi really wanted Jimin to know all of him, the bad with the good, before they spoke of love. But ultimately, Yoongi had been reminded that he had just spent the whole night worshipping Jimin for all that he is, mind, body and soul, drowning the sweet man in all the love Yoongi has to offer If Yoongi could, he would spend each day telling Jimin all the things he admires about the younger. Would list the countless good qualities that Jimin posses, trace his lips over every inch of Jimin’s beautiful body and utter sweet words of love into the shell of his ear, precious words that are only for Jimin.

Yoongi struggles to fathom and understand how Jimin can’t see the light within himself, it pains him to know that he doesn’t hold himself in as high esteem as Yoongi does, because Jimin is so wonderful, so caring, so perfect. He’s everything Yoongi isn’t and it’s alarming how quickly Yoongi had clung to the younger as if Jimin were inherent good personified. All the bickering his heart and head had gone through had ultimately left him with the belief that, yes, he very much does love Jimin. He could tell the boy 2 months from now or 2 years from now, but the truth would still remain. He loves him. ‘Of course Sunshine, you’re becoming my whole world.’ Yoongi carries that memory like a treasure. Locked away in the back of his mind, brought to light every morning he gets the pleasure of waking up with the man he loves and reliving those moments. He has debated telling Jimin before, but he’s selfish and wants to hold this memory only for himself. Jimin’s eyes flutter open a little, clearly wondering why Yoongi hasn’t replied to him yet, subconsciously seeking out attention from his husband even in his sleepy state. Yoongi just chuckles, placing a kiss to the crease between Jimin’s forehead. “Of course Sunshine, you’re my world,” he replies, moving his lips to kiss the squishiest part of his husband’s cheek before Jimin slowly drifts back off to sleep. Not all mornings are happy occasions in the Min household, however. Those nights in which Yoongi has stayed away until the early hours, creeping into the eerie silence of the apartment reeking of death and blood, those are the mornings Yoongi hates the most. For without fail, curled up on the couch in the most awkward of positions he’ll find Jimin; sleeping restlessly after trying his hardest to stay awake for Yoongi’s return. That’s when the guilt is its strongest, when Yoongi seriously debates with himself whether selfishly keeping Jimin is worth the pain his lover goes through. It’s so incredibly unfair of Yoongi to continuously bring nothing but worry and uncertainty to Jimin, especially when Yoongi promised himself that he would protect the younger at any cost. Even if that means protecting Jimin from himself. It twists his heart into painful knots when Jimin wakes with a smile at Yoongi’s return, clearly exhausted with the heaviest bags of worry under his eyes and fingernails chewed practically down to the beds. Jimin doesn’t deserve to worry, doesn’t deserve to have a single negative emotion or thought plague his beautiful mind. Yoongi wishes, more than anything, that he had been born into a normal family and grown to be an architect or a plumber. Any job in which he could live a safer life for the wonderful man that loves him unconditionally. “I can hear your worry,” Jimin mumbles into Yoongi’s stomach, he’s managed to shimmy himself down Yoongi’s torso to wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle into the warmth of Yoongi’s nightshirt. “You’ll get wrinkles if you worry so much.” “I thought you were sleeping,” Yoongi muses; Jimin’s perceptiveness never ceases to amaze him. Jimin hums, huffing out a small sigh as he reaches for Yoongi’s hand. “I was, but it’s hard to when you’re thinking so loud.” He tangles their fingers together and squeezes ever so slightly. “Long day today?” he asks. “Not particularly, but I wanted to be home earlier tonight because we have that call from the

adoption agency,” Yoongi explains. “Thus the early start.” Jimin nods, nose-tickling against Yoongi’s stomach. “Jungkookie’s gonna be staying at Tae Tae’s tonight, so we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.” Yoongi plays with Jimin’s fingers as if they were a toy, rolling them around his own in distraction. “Want me to pick up dinner?” “I can cook, not like I have anything else to do during the day anymore.” Jimin sighs, he’s been sighing a lot more recently but Yoongi can’t really blame him. Yoongi maintains that one of the hardest things he has ever had to do is watch Jimin grieve. There’s a helpless, infuriatingly feeling of being useless that has consumed Yoongi over the past few months. He’s been forced to watch the light of his life break into a million tiny pieces and not be able to do anything about it, and Yoongi hates it. He will forever diligently pick up the pieces of his husband whenever he breaks, but more often than not Yoongi has been able to hold Jimin together before he does. This is so different, so painfully different and so inherently unfair. Because there are not many times in life that Yoongi has been unable to do anything about a problem that faces him or his loved ones. He toys with the balance of life and death on a daily basis, holds the lives of countless men and women in the palm of his hand, like a puppet master tugging strategically at people’s strings. So watching Jisu die from life just being cruel, and subsequently witnessing Jimin slowly lose his grip on his happiness and sanity, has not sat well with Yoongi. He wonders whether this is punishment for taking morality into his own hands. For striding through the world as if nothing can touch him, taking life that is not his to take and spitting in the face of god. But all those thoughts cause is more guilt swirling in his gut and a deeper hatred for the omnipotent deity who preaches love but enjoys inflicting so much suffering onto man. Yoongi reaches out with his spare hand to stroke gently through Jimin’s hair. “Why don’t you start looking for another job if you’re feeling a little lost?” he offers gently. “I’ve been looking, but no one wants to hire midway through the year and there aren’t any positions open in the area anyway,” Jimin explains. “I’ll just stick it out a few more months and start looking again for the new year.” “I could pull some strings if you want?” “No.” “Why not?” Jimin turns his head to lock gazes with Yoongi then, the look in his eyes harsh and a little pleading. “My job is mine, Yoongi. I don’t want things to be handed to me just because of who I’m married to. I want to work hard on my own merit.” Yoongi nods, appreciating where Jimin’s coming from because he has always admired his husband’s drive and perseverance. But ultimately, that’s not how Yoongi likes to work. He has an intrinsic need to spoil Jimin, a need that’s embedded into his very DNA and can’t very well just be ignored. “You should let me help you, Sunshine. I don’t like seeing you look and feel so useless.” Jimin worries his teeth into his bottom lip and Yoongi removes his hand from Jimin’s hair to pull his jaw down. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Jimin nips at Yoongi’s fingers playfully, “You worry too much.” “I worry the right amount,” Yoongi counters quickly even though it’s a bare faced lie. Jimin narrows his eyebrows, obviously not falling for Yoongi’s fake words. “Yoonie, don’t get involved in my hunt for a job. Let me have this, please?” Yoongi sighs, relenting all too easily. “Okay, okay. I won't meddle.” Jimin wriggles his way up Yoongi’s body to slot their lips together, a brief chaste kiss that’s laced with a sweet addictive taste that Yoongi is always disappointed he cannot get more of. “Do you want me to make you breakfast before you go?” “Don’t you want to sleep more?” Yoongi asks, pressing kisses along the sharp ridge of Jimin’s jaw. Jimin sits himself a little more comfortable over Yoongi’s waist, palms gliding over the bare expanse of Yoongi’s chest. “I was planning to make Jungkookie breakfast anyway.” “You really are going to make such a good Appa, Sunshine,” Yoongi muses, kissing the corner of Jimin’s plush lips before pulling him down into a tight hug. Jimin giggles, the noise sounding like windchimes and bells as his face snuggles into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “Shit, I still can’t really fathom the fact we’re gonna be parents.” “I can,” Yoongi replies, and it causes Jimin to twist his head to look curiously at his husband’s face. “Well, I’ve been picturing our future together for such a long time now. It’s only natural I saw us with kids.” Jimin is trying really hard to hide his smile, Yoongi loves it when Jimin does that. His husband finds joy in the smallest of things and it’s so endearing to see him try and keep his emotions in check so they can continue their serious conversation. “What did you see?” “Well to name a few things,” Yoongi begins, running his fingers feather lightly up and down Jimin’s spine. “I could picture the two of you dancing to music around the house for hours until you fall asleep on the couch cuddled up together. I could see us reading books together in my chair, the three of us squeezing into the seat even though it’s only fit for one. We would colour together in the living room whilst you sing in the kitchen making dinner.” Jimin’s smile blossoms wider with every word Yoongi shares and it makes the mafia boss’ heart thump a little faster in his chest. “I see things a little differently now then I did when we first started dating though.” “Oh?” Jimin probes, head flopping into the palm of his hand as he attentively enjoys listening to Yoongi’s thoughts. Yoongi nods, hands still tracing delicately up and down his husband’s spine. “I think the baby will become Holly’s new favourite, of which I’m so excited to see Jungkook-ah pout over.” Jimin smacks him on the chest playfully. “So bitter.” “Holly is our baby, not Jungkook’s,” he grumbles before continuing. “I can just imagine how spoilt and protected and loved our child will be. They will have so many uncles to love it, an older brother who’ll fall in love with it the moment his big bunny eyes spy them. Appas that will give it the world, they will have absolutely everything their little hearts could ever need, they’ll want for nought and I’m so excited to share this love I have for something I haven’t even met yet.” “God, I love you so much,” Jimin replies, his mouth splitting into such a bright smile that Yoongi

feels almost blinded. Every spec of Jimin’s face radiates happiness when he smiles, from his little nose scrunch to his squishy cheeks pushing his eyes into crescents; it’s contagious to see Jimin smile. “I love you too, Sunshine.”

____________

Yoongi spares as much time as possible sat at the breakfast bar just admiring Jimin. He’s lovesick and gross, so sue him. Have you seen his husband? Jimin is the most ethereal being to ever bless this shit hole of a world, and Yoongi gets to call him his. Jimin’s hair is a wild untamed mess atop his head, looking very much like he was dragged through a bush twice. His clothes fall loosely on his little frame, the white of his T so faded after numerous washes and Yoongi is pretty certain the garment belonged to Taehyung at one point if the cuts in the arms are anything to go by. There’s a pimple on his left temple, of which Jimin keeps unconsciously touching, provoking it into an angry red. Jimin keeps catching himself in the reflection of things in the kitchen, huffing at his appearance and trying his best to calm it into a look he deems more attractive. Which is impossible, because Jimin always looks beautiful. The beauty of mankind doesn’t lie in the perfection of their body, but in the way their personality accentuates it. Jimin is a prime example of this; Yoongi can see the joy Jimin holds in the little laugh lines at the corners of his mouth, can see the way he cares far too much about others in the way his skin is not flawless. He can also see just how wonderfully sentimental his husband is in his inability to let certain possessions go, like overused tees that once belonged to his best friend. “It looks like my hair is bleeding,” Jimin huffs, flattening the unruly stands to his head as best as possible. “This red looks ridiculous now.” Yoongi supposes it does, but he doesn’t care. Because it means Jimin’s hair is fading back to black and Yoongi has always had a great weakness for his husband’s natural hair colour. But then again, his favourite hair colour on Jimin would have to be the silver of their wedding. There are only a handful of times in which Yoongi has been so stumped and overwhelmed by his love for Jimin that it has rendered him speechless. Yoongi prides himself in always knowing what to say, his childhood had been spent learning the most tactical and articulate way to express orders and opinions, after all. For who would listen to a mafia boss that doesn’t know the right things to say? He’s never without words, never without a response that is appropriate to the situation at hand and has a solution for every problem. He may need time to compose his thoughts so that he can accurately relay them without being misconstrued, but he will always have a response. That is until he met Jimin and learnt for the first time in his structured life what it feels like to be rendered completely speechless. He can pretty much count all the moments that Jimin has left him utterly floored on one hand; the day of their wedding is one of them. In his darkest times, in which his mind plagues him with insecurities and horrifying futures that make his heart throb, he likes to remember his wedding day. It’s the best day of his life, after all, and it

reminds Yoongi that even through all the shit he has to deal with, it’s all worth it if he gets to come home to Jimin. Because the memory of Jimin dressed to the nines, wearing the gloves that belonged to Yoongi’s grandmother, keeps Yoongi going even in the most difficult of times. He can clearly remember the smile on Jimin’s face as he walked down the aisle, the tears in the corners of his eyes, the way he couldn’t look anywhere else then at Yoongi’s face despite the spectators that had come specifically to see him. Jimin looked so confident, so ready to give himself completely to Yoongi despite the nerves he knew were flooding his brain. He held his head high, believed in a future in which Yoongi would be with him, and there was not an ounce of regret on his face. Yoongi had looked in the face of his lover and had lost the ability to articulate just how much he loved Jimin, the overwhelming feeling too overwhelming to adequately put into words. “Jungkook! Your ass better be awake else you’re gonna be late!” Jimin bellows across the expanse of their apartment, hands busy scrambling eggs on the stove. Yoongi chuckles, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he continues to ogle his beautiful husband. “You could’ve just asked me to go get him.” Jimin shoots him a cock of his eyebrow, “You should have left a good half hour ago.” Yoongi shrugs. “I got distracted.” “Better not be by me, I’ve been scolded enough times by Hobi-hyung over that,” Jimin teases, twisting on his feet to pull the toast out of the toaster. Jungkook’s bedroom door slams open, revealing a sleepy bunny with bed head that could rival Jimin’s and his shirt buttoned wrong. “Morning,” he greets through a yawn before he shuffles over to the breakfast bar. Jimin scoffs, sparing the boy a small glance before he returns to the breakfast. “Sleep well?” “Not bad, I was writing my University essay until late,” he explains, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Yoongi hops to his feet and effortlessly slips into Jimin’s place at the stove, not really needing to do much as the eggs are basically cooked. In thanks, his husband pecks his cheek before shuffling around the breakfast bar to sort out the sloppy teenager. “Have you decided where you want to apply for?” Jimin asks, fingers combing gently though Jungkook’s hair as he tries his best to untangle it and style it as neatly as possible. Yoongi really does love to watch the way Jimin fusses around Jungkook. It’s another one of those moments in which Yoongi struggles to find words to express his emotions. Struck dumb and utterly awestruck by the limitless capacity to Jimin’s compassion. Yoongi will forever be so incredibly proud of Jimin for showing a kid who had only experienced hardships how valuable a person he is. It comes so naturally to Jimin, the way he showers Jungkook with love and affection that the kid always deserved to receive. Jungkook shrugs, thrumming his fingers on the countertop clearly enjoying the attention of Jimin playing with his hair. “Not really, I’m still not sure what I want to do.”

“You should take a photography course,” Yoongi offers, switching off the stove and walking over to the fridge for the butter. “Those pictures you took of Taehyung were really something, kid.” There’s an indifferent sigh that echoes around the room, reminiscent of that of a teenager who’s too cool to worry about the future just yet. Yoongi would scold him for being so relaxed when university entrance exams are in two months, but it’s an unspoken rule that Jungkook deserves to live a life free of any worry. Yoongi turns his back to his family, placing the butter next to the stove and grabbing the plates so he can dish out Jimin and Jungkook’s breakfast. “Or what about film editing? You’ve been taking so many videos recently.” Jungkook shrugs again, just as Jimin’s hands start work on correcting the buttons on the kid’s shirt. “I dunno, I was thinking of maybe looking into some business courses.” Yoongi levels Jungkook with a sharp look, the younger already staring intently back at him knowing exactly the type of reaction this would get from Yoongi. “And why would you want to take a business course?” “I want to keep all my options open, hyung,” he replies, and there’s a strength and conviction to his voice that Yoongi wishes he could argue against. But he can just tell that Jungkook has set his mind to this of his own volition, and considering he and Jimin have encouraged Jungkook to pursue whatever he wants, Yoongi can’t really argue against his decision. So instead, the mafia boss returns his eyes to the breakfast before him, buttering the toast as carefully as possible. “Alright then,” he agrees, letting the topic slide for now. “But know I’d be really disappointed in you if you’re making this decision because you think it’ll make me happy.” “Yoongi,” Jimin warns. “I know,” Jungkook answers, turning his body away from Jimin to focus his whole attention on Yoongi. A move that works well in Jungkook’s favour, because it makes it abundantly clear to Yoongi how serious Jungkook is. Jimin huffs in exasperation, clearly sensing a potential fight in the atmosphere and wanting to diffuse it quickly. “There’s no time for your bickering, both of you are going to be late.” Yoongi smirks, placing the plates of breakfast in front of Jimin and Jungkook. “I’m the boss, I can’t be late,” he jokes, but it’s at this moment the universe chooses to prove otherwise, and his phone starts ringing shrilly from his pocket. Jimin smirks at him before tucking into his breakfast and Yoongi steps into the living room to take the call. “Yeah?” he calls down the phone, voice soft so that it doesn’t carry over to Jungkook and Jimin. He’d like to keep them as carefree as possible, even if it’s just for the day. “Hyung,” Namjoon greets, voice heavy and grave and it has every nerve in Yoongi’s body snapping to attention. He steps right over to the window, as far away from the kitchen as possible and spies the hazy streets of Seoul bellow him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, spare hand slipping into the pocket of his slacks as his eyes take in the way life churns so oblivious below him. He’s always enjoyed high places, he likes the way the world looks so small and so easily

manipulated below him. It clears his thoughts a little, sobers his reality and eases him into decision making. Everything can be seen with distinct clarity from a seat in the heavens; things appear more manageable. “You’ll never guess who’s been spotted at Incheon airport,” Namjoon explains and Yoongi really doesn’t like the weight in his voice and the utter contempt that laces through his words. “A little rat has found its way home?” Yoongi sneers, not really caring who the fucker is that’s reared his ugly head. Yoongi doesn’t give second chances. “Too bad Seoul’s indifferent to them now.” “No, I don’t think you’re understanding me here, hyung,” Namjoon replies. “This isn’t just any old rat, this is the rat.” Yoongi’s hand clenches in his pocket and he has to take several deep breaths to calm himself down. “Are you telling me Ka Hyungshik has dared to show his face in my country?” Namjoon hums an affirmative and suddenly there’s a rage in Yoongi’s veins that he knows will not be extinguished so easily. “I see,” he replies, his voice as cool and calm as the breath of death, needing no more words for Namjoon to understand just how angry he is. “He’s looking for a meeting,” Namjoon adds. Yoongi smirks, seeing his own reflection in the mirror and recognising nothing about himself. The demon he has caged inside him has been unleashed and for once, Yoongi feels no remorse. “Then, let’s give the cunt what he wants.” ____________ 3 years ago It's rare that Yoongi gets a call directly from one of the pigs under his thumb. It’s risky for them to contact Yoongi directly, and is one of the reasons Namjoon has an abundant amount of informants especially for this very instance. So when the call comes through from a number he instantly recognises as Detective Inspector Chung, Yoongi’s blood runs cold. “Make it brief, no specifics,” Yoongi snaps down the phone, he’s in the middle of the street, never a good place to conduct business of any kind, especially the type that causes the need for spies. “Head to the Mochi’s apartment. Now,” the detective explains before Yoongi’s ear is listening to the beeping of a phone call that’s been disconnected. He’s running to the car before he can even process what the officer has just said, shouting the location to Lee without even offering him a word in greeting. There are two ways he can handle the situation. He can either freak the fuck out, jump to every possible conclusion that he can and subsequently lose his mind with worry as his town car speeds towards Jimin’s apartment. Or he could take a few deep breaths, look at the situation in bite-sized chunks to then take things little by little. It takes six deep breathes for him to rationally push his worry down into the back of his mind. His hands are shaking as he dials Hoseok’s number and he can practically taste his pulse.

It’s three rings too many that Yoongi’s worry begins to rear its ugly head once more, and when the call goes to voicemail Yoongi thinks he could just about scream in dammed frustration. “Fucking step on it,” he hisses.

_______________ Yoongi doesn’t feel fear. It’s a useless feeling that was beaten out of him at an early age, a weakness that is not needed in a mafia boss that runs an empire that spans an entire country. He remembers having only one fear when he was young; the fear of fucking up, of failing and causing his father to lash out harshly in reprimand of his actions. He remembers skipping his tutors' lessons one day after school. He must have been about 7 and found more interest playing basketball in the park then in extra studying sessions. He had come home to find his father sitting at the foot of his bed waiting for him to return, and from the way his father’s face was set so darkly, Yoongi knew he would never be seeing his tutor again. Yoongi really liked Bang-seonsagnim, she smiled kindly to him in a house full of straight faces and cold touches. She would bring him candies and chocolates to share together while Yoongi studied, she was nice. She deserved far better than what she got. “This is what happens when you lack focus. You lose the people you love.” A harsh lesson to learn, the hardest pill for him to swallow, but it most definitely did the trick in stamping out his fear and stealing his resolve. Since that day, he hasn’t felt a single twinge of fear. Not from a single beating he took from his father, nor in the prospect of dealing with problems that would warrant his need to kill. Fear is just not something that Yoongi ever thought himself capable of feeling again, not after resigning himself to make sure those he loved weren’t harmed by his carelessness. That is, until he walked into the little apartment he had come to grow stupidly fond of; only to find it unrecognisable and the boy he loves missing. The entire contents of the space have been smashed, ripped, shredded and destroyed only to then be dumped all over the floor. Shards from the picture frames Jimin so loves have been scattered across the floor, glittering in the light of the afternoon sun. The throw pillows that Yoongi’s own mother had gifted Jimin when they had first met are completely unrecognisable. The casing is shredded beyond repair and the plush down of the insides thrown across the space. Feathers coat everything, covering a white layer over the destruction and if Yoongi didn’t know any better, it looked as though an angel was murdered here. Taehyung and Seokjin are the only people inside, and Yoongi feels all rationality fly out the window. He doesn’t like the way the brothers look similar due to their worry etched into their very skin. It crawls cold and clammy at the back of Yoongi’s neck. Taehyung is chewing on his fingers hunched over on a couch that no longer looks comfortable, whereas Seokjin stands next to him, pacing a hole into the floor as he pushes a hand through his hair. Their faces are pale, their limbs are twitchy and Yoongi knows he needs to act fast.

“What happened?” he demands, voice snapping out of his mouth like a barked command rather than a question. The two jump at Yoongi’s sudden presence, the wake of their shock causing their minds and bodies to move and function just a little slower than usual. It’s completely understandable, Yoongi has witnessed the effects of shock so many times before, after all. He’s watched the way in which people’s minds shut down at the prospect of fear and danger; has seen the light slowly fade in their eyes as shock suffocates them, paralyses them. He understands how the Kim brothers would be rendered weak from shock, but he can’t afford to waste any time comforting them. Every second is precious, every second Jimin slips further and further out of his hands, and every second Yoongi gets closer and closer to a fate he doesn’t want. “Quick, there’s not much time. Tell me,” Yoongi shouts once more, and Seokjin lets out a small meep of a gasp at the intensity in Yoongi’s voice. Taehyung’s the first to speak, pushing himself up form the tattered couch wringing his hands together nervously. “I came home to it like this. No Jimin, no note, yet all of our valuables are still here.” Yoongi whips his phone out before Taehyung has even finished explaining, body moving purely on adrenaline as he sends a hurried emergency message to Namjoon. It would be easier to call, but phone calls are easily tracked and eavesdropped into without even being noticed by the telephone user. Hoseok should have answered his phone or called Yoongi back by now and Yoongi can only assume that he’s been snatched along with Jimin. Which means they have Hoseok’s phone and a good amount of intel on Yoongi’s men and their actions. “How did you know to come?” Seokjin asks whilst Yoongi types. He doesn’t spare the man a glance. “I have moles in the police department,” he explains. “They called me as soon as you called them.” Taehyung steps a little closer and Yoongi can feel hostility and anger simmering under the boy’s skin in the face of the situation. Another understandable response; Taehyung’s clearly frustrated that he knows he can’t do anything and doesn’t want to just wait around. “What do you mean,” he demands, voice pushed through his teeth. Yoongi slips his phone back into his pocket. “It means I have moles in the police department. I have moles everywhere, we’ll figure out where Jimin is.” That’s clearly not the response Taehyung was looking for, his usually carefree expression stealing into something cold and so inherently different to what Yoongi is used to. “I asked for an explanation, not a brief overview of the same shit you just said,” he says. “I come from money, Taehyung,” Yoongi explains breezily, forming lies in his brain that he knows he can pass off as easily as if they were truths. “I come from an influential family, Jimin is important to me and he’s clearly being held for ransom.” “Bullshit,” Taehyung responds without missing a beat. “If they’re after money, why would they leave the valuables untouched?” Seokjin queries, his eyes full of calculations that Yoongi cannot afford to have him find the answers to. “The way this whole

apartment is destroyed is an act of personal terror, it’s a message, it’s got nothing to do with money.” “You should quit while you’re ahead,” Yoongi warns, feeling his phone vibrate in his hands and snatching his attention away from the Kim brothers.

Namjoon 03:58pm My informants say Hoseok and Jimin arrived at the apartment at the normal time. They never saw them leave. “Well, they’re clearly not still here!” Taehyung bellows, reading the message over Yoongi’s shoulder. “And what the fuck does Namjoon-hyung mean by informants?” “You should probably stay outside of Seoul for a few days, I’ll call you when Jimin comes back,” Yoongi explains, pocketing his phone and turning on his heels. He’s stopped by a large hand grabbing him at the crook of his arm, flinging him back round to face the brothers with a strength that surprises Yoongi. “I am this close to cutting off your dick Min Yoongi. What the fuck is going on?” He takes a deep, steadying breath, letting a calm wash over him before he responds. “I don’t know, Taehyung.” “You don’t know, or you won't say?” Seokjin probes. “Both.” “Who even are you?” Taehyung demands and his tone is one really not to be trifled with Logically Yoongi knows he shouldn’t be telling the Kim brothers anything, knows that Jimin has a right to know about his elicit work life before any other outsiders to their relationship do. But he also knows that he needs to shake the two of them, get them somewhere safe and far away from here because he just cannot handle three innocent souls on his conscience. “Look, I don’t know who’s behind this, I don’t know who’s taken Jimin and for what reason. But what I can tell you, is that I will do everything in my power to get him back,” Yoongi explains. “This is my job.” “Rescuing missing people is your job?” Taehyung scoffs, not believing a single word from Yoongi’s mouth. “What are you some kind of government agent?” Yoongi chuckles, louder and longer then he intended too. But honestly his brain is a little fucked up with panic and worry and there’s fear slicing its way through his gut. So the mere thought that he would have a soul good enough to work for the people is ridiculous. “What’s so funny?” Taehyung snaps, hand gripping tighter around Yoongi’s arm. “You don’t work for the government, you don’t work for anyone official, do you?” Seokjin asks, and Yoongi cocks an eyebrow in kudos of the eldest’s quick thinking. “You’re a goddamn seedy gang member.” Taehyung’s eyes blow wide as saucers, and on any other occasion, Yoongi would probably find the look mildly entertaining. He does so love throwing the ever quick-witted Taehyung through a loop, after all.

But instead, he clicks his tongue in high offence. “I’m no foot soldier, I’m the mafia, hyung.” “You’re telling me you're a mafia boss?” Seokjin scoffs, trying so hard to believe in the ridiculousness of that true statement. “You run a big-time gang and go around taking money from innocent people and selling drugs?” “I don’t take money from innocent people, I take money from people who owe me. But sure, my group dabble in drugs, we dabble in a lot of things.” He chances a glance at the clock on the wall of the living room, but it’s missing, and suddenly the impending doom of this entire situation is weighing down on him heavier than the weight of the world. “I don’t have fucking time for this!” he snaps, snatching his arm out of Taehyung’s grip. “Get out of Seoul and wait for me or Namjoon to call you.” “I swear to god,” Taehyung begins and his voice is the quietest Yoongi has ever heard it. A steady whisper that echoes ominously around the tattered room like the oncoming echo of a storm. “If Jimin is dead...” “Don’t fucking say that.” Seokjin pleads somewhat hysterically as he practically pulls his hair out from behind his brother. “If anything happens to him,” Taehyung corrects stepping right up into Yoongi’s space, bending down so that they’re eye level and Yoongi can see a fire burning in the iris’ of the kid’s eyes. “I will kill you, Min Yoongi.” Yoongi is no stranger to being threatened on pain of death. Whether it’s from someone shouting threats in passing to him, or from those wasting their last words before he kills them, the whole subject matter of death is one Yoongi is constantly surrounded in. This is the only time, however, he has ever believed wholeheartedly, that this threat will be carried out. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. It numbs him, gives him a consequence if he does fuck up. Because he can’t afford to fuck up, he can’t afford to lose Jimin, no way no how. “Trust me. I’d let you,” Yoongi replies, and there’s no bitterness, no malice in his words. Just a meek whimper of a voice, laced with fear for Jimin and such heavy guilt. Taehyung looks stunned for a beat of a second before he latches back onto his anger. It’s a good thing, Yoongi thinks, anger keeps you moving, propels you forward even when you think you can’t anymore. It's Seokjin that breaks the silence next, a sob slipping out from the back of his throat as he cups a hand over his mouth. “He’s dating a mafia boss,” he whispers, as if the words are only now sinking into him. “How could we not know? How could he not tell us?” “He didn’t know,” Yoongi croaks in a weak and pathetic voice that isn’t needed right now. But there’s guilt clawing across his skin like a painful itch he just can’t scratch. “So you’re telling me,” Taehyung begins, again taking one step back from Yoongi in a move that is slightly bizarre given the height of the younger’s anger. “He’s been taken out of his own home by fucking criminals, probably beaten within an inch of his life because gangsters don’t play fair. And as he sits there, alone and terrified, he has no idea that this is all your fault.” Yoongi doesn’t know what to say in the face of this sobering reality other than to apologise, but he knows that an apology won't cut it. No words or actions are enough to make amends for what’s happened.

Jimin has been taken and it really is all Yoongi’s fault. “Fuck it,” Taehyung spits, his fist connecting smoothly and painfully with Yoongi’s jaw all but 3 seconds later. Yoongi supposes if he were more alert he would have been able to block the younger’s punch, he probably would have been able to block it even though he is a little of his game right now. But he deserves it, so why would he avoid it. Taehyung shakes out his throbbing hand, breathing as harsh as a bull through his nostrils. “I’m going to kill you regardless if Chim is alive or not.” “Not if I do it first,” Seokjin threatens, and Yoongi has never heard the elder so white-hot mad; the promise in his voice sending shivers down his spine. Get yourself together, Min Yoongi. ____________ It’s an hour later, after Yoongi has sent everyone from the office home early, leaving just Namjoon, himself and a handful of his best men, that a message arrives. A message in the form of Jung Hoseok, and if Yoongi wasn’t angry before, you can bet that his rage could rival that of the devil himself now. Yoongi’s men are the first to find his right-hand man, bound and dumped like he’s nothing more than garbage, on the curb at the back of the office. His limbs are tied, his mouth gagged and there is more blood than Yoongi is okay with. Hoseok shouldn’t have to spill any blood and Yoongi swears to all that is listening, that he’ll pay back those that did this tenfold. There’s blood matted into his hair, staining the brilliant orange locks and clumping them together. His shirt has been unbuttoned, the once white fabric stained red beyond salvaging. There’s just so much blood. Yoongi has seen more over the years, a lot more. But never so much from one of his own men. Never so much from one of his friends. Hoseok is carried gently into reception, laid out on blankets Namjoon had gathered from every supply closet in the building before Yoongi ordered him to call the doctor. The Mafia boss had ripped the bonds from his friend himself, gently eased the gag from his lips only to be met with a groan. “Yoongs...” Hoseok croaks. Yoongi hushes him, holding him down gently against the blankets on the floor so as not to jostle him. “It’s alright Hobi, you’re safe.” Hoseok groans once more, hands encasing his stomach as if he’s about to be sick. “Take my shirt off,” he demands, voice dry. Yoongi is quick to comply, pulling Hoseok’s weak arms through his sleeves and letting the fabric fall around him. He’s greeted with a sight that causes the snap of his jaw to ring harshly through the ground floor reception. Yoongi grinds his teeth so hard he could very well render them to dust.

There’s a message on Hoseok’s stomach. No wait, that’s not right. There’s a message carved into Hoseok’s stomach. An address, a fucking address. Nothing of value or importance and they saw fit to etch it into Hoseok’s very skin, scar him with the disgusting words like Hoseok is nothing more than a tool. “Who the fuck did this Hoseok, I need a name,” Yoongi asks, and there’s an icy cold laced through his voice that spreads a thick silence through his subordinates like a plague. Hoseok sniffs out a laugh, and how his friend can find humour in this situation is beyond Yoongi. “You’re not gonna like what I got to tell you.” “I don’t like anything right now. So spit it out.” “It’s Ka, Ka Hyungshik.” Namjoon returns with impeccable timing as always, pressing warm cloths to the wounds of Hoseok’s open stomach. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” Hoseok replies, slipping his hand into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out a small tape, meant to be played in a video camera, and presses it into Yoongi’s hands. “I’m so sorry, I tried everything I could, but they were waiting for us in Jimin’s apartment, they took my gun they...” Namjoon hushes him, stroking a reassuring hand through the bloody strands of Hoseok’s hair. “Don’t worry, just focus on resting now, okay?” “I’m sorry.” Hoseok sobs, full on sobs, hands reaching up to cover his face as his body is overcome with tears he just can’t hold in. Hoseok never cries, he’s the most level-headed out of all of them, Yoongi’s pretty certain the man doesn’t have the capacity to be sad, the way he always finds the silver linings in life is so positively heartwarming. Hoseok hiccups on an intake of breath, palms pushing tightly into the sockets of his eyes. “He’s all alone, Yoongs, all alone and fucking terrified I could hear him screaming...” “Stop,” Yoongi begs, hands bunched so tight in the blankets beneath his wounded friend that they’ve begun to rip in his hands. “I’m sorry, please tell Jimin I’m sorry.”

_____________ “Hyung, if it really is Ka, this could cause an all-out fucking war if we’re not careful,” Namjoon rationalises, hooking an old camcorder up to a monitor in one of the conference rooms on the third floor. They had waited until the Min family doctor came, unable to tear themselves away from Hoseok as he cried himself to sleep, exhausted mentally and physically. Only when Hoseok was looking more stable and being carefully treated from the best and most trusted doctor Yoongi knows, did he and Namjoon decided to watch the tape. They’re wasting so much time, and yet Yoongi has never felt calmer in his life. Now that all the puzzle pieces have been revealed to him, he’s beginning to piece them together with the ease and

precision that makes him the most ruthless and feared man in South Korea. “I know,” Yoongi replies, fingers intertwined under his chin and elbows resting on the table. “But the war already started the moment he laid hands on what’s mine.” Namjoon sighs. “He’s a fucking madman.” “He always has been.” Yoongi reasons. “He’s hungry for power. Power his old man denied him via forming an alliance with us. Shit like that would send an entitled prick insane.” “Do you think his father knows of his actions?” “No, fuckers too fat and senile to know much of anything these days,” Yoongi explains running a hand over his face just as Namjoon turns the camera on. “I have a hunch as to what he wants, but I have this niggling suspicion that he doesn’t have a hand in this directly.” Namjoon narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?” “Play the tape.” Yoongi requests, leaning back in his chair and furrowing his eyebrows in wait for the video to start. Namjoon does as he’s told, taking a few steps away from the device and spying the footage just as intently. The video message starts with an image of a low hanging light gently swaying from a ceiling of what’s clearly a warehouse. Namjoon scoffs. “Fucking cliché dickhead,” he comments dryly just as the camera is picked up and turned towards a face. The face is, smartly, covered in a black mask, not a single speck of skin or hair showing and Yoongi at least commends them for not being complete idiots. “Good evening, Yoongi-ssi, I hope it’s a pleasant one,” the man on the camera explains and Yoongi feels irritation tickle at his skin like a persistent fly. “Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we? We’re desperate for what we want, and we’re pretty certain you’re desperate for what you want.” The man is moving, at a pace equivalent to that of a snail, mind, and Yoongi has to bite back the urge to shout for the fucker to speed up. The camera turns away from the man’s face and onto that of a sleeping figure, hands tied behind their back with zip ties, feet in a similar situation. Yoongi doesn’t even need the camera to get any closer to know that it’s Jimin, his sweet, precious, wonderful Jimin. Knows it’s the man he loves from the way his body curls in on itself protectively when he’s scared or worried, form the way his pretty sandy brown hair fans about the floor like a halo whilst he sleeps and his plump lips open ever so slightly as he dreams. Yoongi hopes more than anything, that at least Jimin has escaped to a dream far kinder than reality. The camera continues to move closer, the lens getting right up into Jimin’s face revealing the scrapes and marks across his golden skin that Yoongi etches into his memory in close detail. There’s a rather fat bruise blossoming on the apple of his left cheek, his sweet bottom lip is faintly blue and jittering from fear and cold, a long cut splitting it in half. There’s very little blood, and Yoongi can tell immediately that any harm or damage caused to Jimin is not at the hands of weapons. Which he supposes is good for the assholes who took him, because it means Yoongi will spare them the torture of knives before he shoots them. “We found a little stray cat, and as you can probably see, he doesn’t belong to us.” The man on the camera speaks once more, voice deep in pitch and thick with a satoori that Yoongi recognises is from

Busan. “So we’ll return what don’t belong to us, if you return what doesn’t belong to you.” “He wants his father’s old territories back,” Namjoon mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s fucking ambitious.” “It’s fucking stupid.” Yoongi corrects. The camera is right up in Jimin’s face and Yoongi can see the way Jimin’s eyes are restless beneath his eyelids. His breath is heaving out of his chest, clearly still terrified even in sleep. He’s pale, with tear streaks staining his cheeks and harsh black bags under his eyes. “Pause it.” Yoongi orders and Namjoon is quick to obey. He’s not sure how long he sits there, just staring at Jimin and feeling every ugly emotion twist like the blade of a knife into his gut. Anger, fear, sorrow, regret and pain all swell through his veins like a venom Yoongi all too willingly accepts. He carefully takes in every detail of Jimin’s face, every mar an ounce of fear and consumes it hungrily like fuel for a raging fire. His nails dig into the arms of the chair, so tight he’s pretty sure he could rip the fabric from it. His teeth clench to the point his jaw aches and his eyes are narrowed into the harshest of glares of which causes the brewing of a headache at his temples. There are many things that people use as driving forces through life. The need to prove yourself, the need to be better, the need of money, of fame of acceptance. Yoongi is no exception to these, because in this game you need to cling to something stronger than sheer willpower to get you to the end of the day. He wanted to prove himself to his father and he worked damn hard every day at bettering himself to do just that. Money and fame all come with the need for acceptance, the need for people to look at him and fear him in the same way they feared his father. For that’s when you get paid, that’s when you’ve made a name for yourself. But now, as he looks upon the face of his lover, twisted with pain and fear, Yoongi realises that love is probably the strongest driving force in life. “I’m going to kill him, Namjoon,” Yoongi swears, eyes unmoving from the screen. “Think about this logically.” Namjoon reasons, practically implores of Yoongi, but the mafia boss is deaf to rationality now. Yoongi clicks his tongue, “I am,” he responds, cool and level-headed. “You can’t expect me to let him live.” Namjoon sighs, “Think of the big picture here, hyung.” “Jimin is the big picture, he’s my big picture and that fucker took him from me.” Yoongi says, slowly standing to his feet. “He brought an innocent into our conflict, there’s no honour left between us.” “I know. But there are so many pieces on the board, bigger factors beyond Jimin that you clearly haven’t taken into consideration....” Yoongi slams his hands on the table. “None of that matters.” “Yes, it fucking does,” Namjoon bellows back, not even an ounce of remorse in shouting out of turn to his boss. “I want Jimin back as much as you, I want them to suffer ten time the amount they have

made Hobi suffer. But you can’t just act without thinking, causing a war will just put the Mochi in more danger, it’ll put Seokjin and Taehyung in more danger.” Yoongi takes a deep steadying breath letting Namjoon’s harsh words settle across his mind, clearing it ever so slightly. Why is Namjoon always right? “He’s not getting Itaewon,” Yoongi says, hands shaking from where they’re splayed against the table. “He can’t take Jimin from me and expect me to give him what doesn’t belong to him.” There’s a reassuring hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “He won’t have Itaewon. We can’t let others know that Jimin can be seen as a weakness. We need to have them see Jimin as a strength.” “I don’t want them to see Jimin as anything, Joon,” Yoongi replies in a pathetic voice, quiet and meek. “I let this happen. I was too careless.” “Hobi was with him, there’s nothing more you could have done.” “I could have pushed him away.” Namjoon shoves his shoulder a little rougher than Yoongi thinks he intended. “Everyone deserves happiness, even scary as fuck mafia leaders,” he explains, despite the fact Yoongi doesn’t care for his sweet words. Yoongi shakes the tactile comfort off, walking a little closer to the screen. He hits play on the camera, not really listening to what the captives are saying, too busy scanning through all the clues they’ve accidentally left for him. “They’re clearly in one of the abandoned warehouses over near Incheon, I can hear planes,” Yoongi begins. “Ka isn’t there, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to get his hands dirty this early into the game. He’s got a lot of chips riding on this, can’t blow his load too soon.” Namjoon hums, “How many men do you think there are?” “Two, maybe three at most,” Yoongi replies. “It may be an important move, but it’s a risqué one. So I doubt Ka would willingly sacrifice a great number of his own men. I doubt he has many of them to begin with.” “Okay, so what do we do?” “You call my father, you explain the situation and you issue a price on Ka’s head.” Namjoon takes a beat of a moment to respond, the silence thicker than any answer his friend could give him. But ultimately Yoongi knows that Namjoon is too full of opinions to hold his tongue, even when Yoongi really doesn’t need his logic right now. Namjoon takes the tape from the camera and places it under the leg of a table. “Daejung will have the entirety of Ka’s family slaughtered,” he says, slamming the table onto the tape so that it shatters. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you to inform my father.” “Yoongi...” But the mafia boss has seen and heard enough. His plan is formulated in his head that he has no further need for time wasting. He has an address and a suspected body count for the day and he can

almost feel Jimin in his hold again. “Min-ssi,” the stuttering voice of the doctor echoes through the awkward atmosphere between the two friends. Yoongi snaps his eyes to the door, narrowing ever so slightly on the tiny cowering frame of the man Yoongi knows so well, yet hates to see. “What?” “Jung-ssi would like a word...” the doctor offers, eyes trained to the floor. Yoongi doesn’t spare him an answer, turning on his heels and making his way for the door. “Hyung,” Namjoon says just before Yoongi leaves, snatching the Mafia Boss’ attention at the last possible moment. Yoongi’s face is perfectly carved into a mask that covers all his worry, his anxiety and his fear. He’s feeling a little more confident in the bleak reality of this situation, as at least knowing where Jimin is eases his worry just a little. Having Jimin back is all that matters. Jimin is his everything, his moon and stars and sky. There are so many apologies he needs to tell the younger and an aching need to just hold him and feel him, like a drug addict been denied their drug of choice. “Just, be careful.” Namjoon sighs, all fight leaving him knowing it’s futile to try and get through to Yoongi now. “Remember what happened to the boy who flew too close to the sun.”

_____________

When it finally comes time for them to leave, Yoongi only takes Namjoon with him. Just as Ka felt the need to spare little of his men when abducting Jimin, Yoongi feels the need to offer the same courtesy back. Really, he would have gone on his own if Namjoon wasn’t so adamant on coming. Rationally, Yoongi knows that having his right-hand man with him will keep him somewhat level-headed. But irrationally, Yoongi wants to go a little crazy. It’s so strange how attached to Jimin Yoongi has become. He was never really taught how to handle romantic emotions, love wasn’t exactly missing in his house but it was a rarity. His father showed love through harsh lessons in order to protect him, his mother showed love through being overbearingly cold with his best interest at heart. They never explicitly stated whether love is a good or a bad thing, so Yoongi’s never really been sure how to view it. Not to cause misunderstandings, Yoongi has a good enough head on his shoulders to think for himself without the guidance of his parents' teachings. But they do know what they’re talking about, he trusts them inherently despite the tough parenting technique they had with him. He knows his mother wants grandchildren, but love isn’t really needed for that. His father on the other hand? His father he’s really not sure of. Because his father has never been stupid enough to let the ones he loves be taken from him. “Fuck,” Yoongi sighs, elbow resting on the window ledge and chin in his palm as he spies the smoggy grey streets of Seoul. “How could I let this happen.” Lee is weaving through the traffic at a speed disgustingly over the limit, but he drives with the same ease as if going a safe one. Yoongi had been sceptical about Lee Hyunsoo when Hoseok had

introduced the two of them, for street racers are wild and unmannered adrenaline junkies that in no way make good chauffeurs. But the three month trial period had surprisingly and easily come to an end without a single complaint or cause for concern. Lee’s loyalty and professionalism nothing short of perfect and Yoongi could never see himself without the man now. Namjoon has been purposefully still throughout the car journey, not even the standard bounce in his leg from anticipation as they sped closer and closer to their destination. In fact, Namjoon had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had parted from Hoseok, a grim narrow to his eyebrows and a flat line to his lips that screams concern. “I keep telling you,” Namjoon begins, voice calm and soothing despite the tempest of worry swirling around in Yoongi’s head. “This isn’t your fault, it was out of your control.” “Nothing is out of my control, Joon,” Yoongi counters, gnawing dangerously on his nails to the point they could bleed. A bad habit he had promised to stop after Jimin had expressed worry for the state of his fingers. But right now, he can’t very well stop his anxiety expressing itself this way. It’s either chew his fingernails down to the beds or slam his head against the glass of the window. He just wishes he didn’t have to break another promise to Jimin. “Are you worrying about what Hobi said? Namjoon asks in a quieter voice, softer and laced with gentle ease that leaves a foul taste in Yoongi’s mouth. The mafia boss turns to his right-hand man, his friend and his confidant, with the intent to tear into him. Anger is always the better emotion to cling onto when you’re feeling a little hopeless, at least that’s what his father had taught him. But as he faces Namjoon, he’s met with a steady stare full of nothing but empathy and understanding that has every ounce of his anger evaporating into steam. He lets out a long deep breath, expelling all his irrational anger with it before slumping back against the seat. “Maybe, just a little,” Yoongi confesses, like a sinner forced into confession. Namjoon scoffs, “Maybe, just a lot,” he corrects. “I hadn’t even thought that after all this, I might lose Jimin anyway,” Yoongi whispers, the fear in his voice racking shivers down his back. He’s entertained the thought of Jimin leaving him before, convinced himself that he would be able to let the light of his life leave if it’s what his Sunshine wants; if it’ll make Jimin happy. But now that he’s faced with the possibility of this potentially coming true, Yoongi’s pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to let Jimin leave easily. At least, not without the younger taking Yoongi’s heart with him. Namjoon is picking at lint on his slacks, “Personally, I don’t think Jimin will outright leave you.” Yoongi has to bit down a growl that rumbles in the back of his throat. “You should have a little more faith in him.” “Don’t give me hope that could be ripped away from me so easily.” Yoongi tries his best not to whimper, but his voice breaks regardless. “I’m not,” Namjoon defends. “At least I’m not trying to. I’m trying to be rational where you can’t be.” “I am rational.” “Marching alone into an unknown situation with nothing but me for back up is the complete opposite

of rational, hyung.” How many times today will Yoongi think that Namjoon is right? It’s beginning to irritate him when usually he admires and relies on it to help him with even the simplest of tasks. Yoongi chews on his thumbnail, “I want to be the one to sever their heads from their bodies.” “Jimin is sweet and kind, caring and just in everything that he does. Hobi never said that Jimin is outright terrified of you did he?” Namjoon asks, but it’s rhetorical and Yoongi simply refocuses’ he gaze on to the stream of traffic that blurs past his window. “He said to be careful of Jimin’s feelings. He’s scared and confused and he needs you to reassure him.” There’s a thick silence that falls between them, hot and heavy in the air like storm clouds and it has Yoongi feeling small and suffocated. “What if he is scared of me?” the eldest whispers, cautious of the words as if speaking them will make them true. Namjoon waits to answer, only a few seconds but they’re the longest few seconds of Yoongi’s life. “What if he’s not?” “How could someone so pure and wonderful not be scared of something disgusting and covered in blood, Joon?” Yoongi says, eyes unblinking as he drowns in his own thoughts. “He’s too good for me, he was always too good for me. He shouldn’t even be with me...” “You should let Jimin decide that.” Namjoon cuts through his dark words like the blade of a knife and Yoongi takes a deep breath to calm down. “I know you, Yoongi. You think you know what’s best for everyone, and if you resign yourself into thinking you’re no good for Jimin then you’ll go deaf to what the mochi wants. Don’t take your relationship into your own hands, please, this isn’t business, it’s love.” “Aren’t the two pretty similar?” Yoongi sneers. Namjoon titters. “I know you don’t think that. Don’t try and hide your insecurities behind sharp words because I won't fall for it. Don’t try to sabotage your relationship before you’ve even given Jimin a chance to express himself because I’ll fucking smack you.” Yoongi sniffs out a laugh. “You wouldn’t hit me.” “No, but your mother would. And I would tell her everything.” Yoongi shivers at the threat and takes one more deep breath. “I won’t be stupid, I promise.” “Good.” Namjoon huffs, folding his arms about his chest. “Now let's go bring your Sunshine home.”

____________ Yoongi has long since thought of death as more of an old nemesis tangled into every fibre of his life. It doesn’t scare him, the thought of dying, it’s simply just another factor to take into account in a life that’s made up of dangerous probabilities. He’s lost count of the number of people who have died by his hand, likewise, he couldn’t tell you how many times he’s managed to cheat death himself. Morality is just another piece on the chess

board to him, death an ever prominent shadow that trails behind him. To Yoongi, taking the life of another is as normal to him as a salaryman attending a business meeting. Killing is simply effortless to him, body reacting on instinct from countless walkthroughs of the same thing. He knows his gun as well as he knows his own body, the weight in his hand familiar and comforting, the click of the safety ominous and empowering. But now? Now it’s different. Because there’s a new piece on the board that Yoongi never factored in for. Jimin. His Jimin. The good to all the bad to his life, the sunshine in a world so black and bleak and the hope that he can be better. Dying doesn’t scare Yoongi. But Jimin dying? The mere thought of it has his stomach churning and his hands shaking. He knew they would be waiting for him, the silence seeping ominously from Jimin’s prison like that of a thick fog. Namjoon wordless leaves, gun in hand, in search of a back entrance leaving Yoongi all alone as he stares blankly at the wooden warehouse door before him. There’s an unsettling calm that washes over Yoongi like the waves of the tide. He’s really, really fucking angry now that he’s here. He slams open the doors with the heel of his shoe, the splintering of the wood connecting with the wall of the warehouse resounding like the booming of a cannon. The game has begun. “Welcome, Min-ssi, you really have kept your poor little Mochi waiting such a long time.” A voice rings loud and clear through the thick silence of the space before him. The confidence in the captors' voice is disgusting, and Yoongi cannot wait to rip it from the man’s throat. The inside is dark, the majority of the low swinging lights have been purposefully turned off, drawing as little attention to the building as possible. A smart move, Yoongi must admit. He walks towards the only light source, right at the back of the warehouse between two large metal crates decorated in rust. The place is pretty bare, shards of wood and flakes of rusted metal coating the damp concrete floor. Aged signs cling to the walls, just barely keeping themselves up despite their warnings and colourful letterings having faded years ago. There’s a sharp tang of metal and sulphur in the air, holes in the roof and the walls have allowed for animals to seek refuge inside and Yoongi can hear the ever-present sound of wings flapping and paws scuttling across concrete. He speaks not one word until he comes upon the three occupants of the warehouse. Two men of

equal height and stature, still covering their faces in black masks, stand with their feet firmly planted into the ground and shoulders held high with a confidence that Yoongi thinks is cute. They think they’ve gotten away with what they’ve done, they think they’re gonna run back to their master and be praised for their work like the good lap dogs they are. How precious. They have guns pressed alarmingly hard against Jimin’s head, poor sweet Jimin, whose eyes are jammed tightly shut as he whimpers around the gag in his mouth. He has been thrown to his knees like he’s nothing more than an animal, ankles and wrists still bound. His usually fluffy light brown hair is wet with sweat, sticking in clumps to his forehead and his neck, whilst his usually golden skin is rubbed with dirt and grime from where he’s been thrown about the floor. Yoongi struggles to take his eyes away from Jimin, tracing the plump of his lips as they wobble in fear, across his round cheeks littered with small cuts that Yoongi suspects are from loose stones. He looks even smaller as he cowers in on himself, his frame shivering in fear and his chest rising and falling with short and sharp breaths. “Sunshine,” Yoongi calls, the sharpness in his tone making the younger boy flinch. “Sunshine, look at me.” It takes a while for Jimin to find the courage to do so, his fear shivering across his skin more violently than before, breathes forced through his nose in a way that must have the younger light headed. Yoongi waits patiently, watches the way Jimin’s eyes move restlessly behind his eyelids before he slowly meets Yoongi’s gaze. There’s a whimper that bubbles up the younger’s throat, the sound muffled by the gag but still stabs at Yoongi’s heart as sharp as the blade of a knife. “I need you to watch me, okay?” Yoongi explains, trying so hard not to just throw himself at Jimin and hold him. There’s more than just fear in Jimin’s eyes, there’s none of their usual light, none of their usual happiness and in a way, Yoongi feels as though he is being looked at by a stranger rather than his boyfriend. Jimin shakes his head, whimpering as fresh tears stain down his cheeks. He slams his eyes shut once more and lowers his head, sobs trembling through his slight frame only to be captured by the gag. “Jimin,” Yoongi says once more, the voice of his love snapped out of him in a tone far from kind. It causes another whimper from Jimin, but he raises his head and holds eye contact with Yoongi regardless of the fact he clearly doesn’t want to. Yoongi takes one step closer to Jimin, the guns pressed to the younger’s head have their safety clicked off and the sharp sound has Jimin yelping. “You have to watch me,” Yoongi orders, grip so tight on his own gun that his knuckles are positively white. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, do you understand? Nod if you understand me, Jimin.” The younger does so, a long breath pulled through his nose as he does. Yoongi nods, turning his attention back to the captors. “Here’s how things are going to plan out.” He begins pulling his gun from his pocket and clocking the safety off. “I want you to play rock paper scissors.”

The men share a look and a small scoff of a laugh before turning back to Yoongi, “And why on earth would we do that?” one asks. “Why would we do anything you say?” the other adds, clicking his neck just for added intimidation. The move is, however, nothing more than pathetic grappling of trying to act tough. Of which makes the whole situation that much more fun for Yoongi, for it means he’s dealing with kids, newbies. He does so love crushing the spirits of newbies that act too big for their boots. Yoongi sighs, “Indulge me?” he offers. “Think of it as a dying man’s last request.” Jimin whimpers again, and Yoongi steals every ounce of resolve he has in him to not turn to the face of his love, knowing that he’s probably spilling fresh tears. The men shrug, keeping a strong grip on the guns pressed against Jimin’s head, they turn to face each other ever so slightly with their fists raised between them. “One, two, three...” they chant, hands changing shape as the last number is called so that the man on the left throws out paper and the man on the right throws out scissors. “Ah!” scissors man exclaims. “I win!” “Congratulations.” Yoongi smiles, feeling wholly indifferent to the situation as he aims he swiftly shoots right into the chest of the winner. The gunshot rings around the warehouse accompanied by a muffled scream from Jimin’s gagged lips. Yoongi watches as the bullet makes a home right in the man’s heart, eyes widening just for a fraction as he tries to process what’s just happened. But he can’t process anything as his body falls limp to the floor like that of a rag doll, crumbling in a mess of unanimated limbs beside Jimin. The next move is a critical and fast-paced sequence, in which Yoongi knows that the idiot left will turn his gun from Jimin’s head and aim to kill Yoongi. A smart man would pull Jimin from the floor and shove the barrel of the gun down the innocent man’s throat, knowing they can still salvage their operation whilst still keeping themselves alive. But a newbie will have one thing and one thing only on his mind: survival. So just as the idiot’s finger hovers over the trigger Yoongi slides himself out of the aim of the gun, snapping his hand against the captors’ wrist so that the gun tumbles to the floor without being shot. Yoongi kicks the thing as far away from them as possible, twisting the man’s arm at his wrist and smacking his gun into the back of his head. It’s a light tap really, just enough force to knock him unconscious but not enough force to actually kill him. As the second body slumps to the floor, Yoongi finally allows himself to look at Jimin. His eyes watering with unshed tears are locked with Yoongi’s own gaze, keeping his promise despite the uncontrollable fear coursing through his body. He struggles to read what kind of emotion swim in Jimin’s eyes, the overwhelming feeling of relief rings in his ear. Because Jimin is safe. He can’t seem to find it in himself to care whether Jimin despises him or not, because just the fact Jimin still alive is so utterly comforting.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon calls, hurrying his way the mess under the only lights of the warehouse. “You were right, there’s only two of them.” Yoongi nods, turning the body of the captor still alive over onto his back with his foot, “Untie him,” he orders, pocketing his gun once more. Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice, gun slipping into the holster under his arm as he drops to his knees beside Jimin. “Hey Mochi, I’m sorry we took so long,” Namjoon apologises, carefully removing the rope from Jimin’s wrists and ankles before removing the gag from his mouth. Jimin’s eyes never once leave Yoongi, even as the mafia boss turns his attention to the idiot bellow him, he can still feel his lover’s gaze burning into the side of his head. “How do you feel? Do you hurt anywhere?” Namjoon asks. Jimin doesn’t say anything and Yoongi doesn’t look up from the worthless piece of shit on the floor to see if Jimin nods or shakes his head instead. “Hand me the rope,” Yoongi demands. His right-hand does so wordlessly, flinging the rope to Yoongi before turning his attention back to Jimin. “Come on, let’s get you home yeah?” he suggests. “No.” Yoongi counters, looping the rope around the man’s wrists and placing them above his head. “Namjoon, leave.” “Yoongi...” Namjoon warns. The mafia boss doesn’t spare his friend a single glance, “Now. Namjoon. Leave,” he snaps in a tone that’s not to be messed with as he goes to secure the captor’s feet together. He doesn’t watch as his right-hand leaves, the echoing sound of his footsteps against the concrete getting further and further away sign enough that Namjoon won't disobey orders. Yoongi unbuttons the unconscious man’s shirt, ripping it open with little care so that his pale chest is on full display. It’s only then that he looks back over to Jimin and has to gulp down the utter dread lodged into the back of his throat. Jimin has curled his legs up to his chest, gently rocking himself back and forth eyes still trained obediently on Yoongi. His teeth are worried into his bottom lip, hands clasped tightly together around his shines that Yoongi can see crescent indents from the younger’s nails in his own skin. “Did they tell you what I was?” Yoongi asks, swinging his legs round to sit on the unconscious man’s chest facing Jimin. Jimin nods slowly and timidly. “Use your words,” Yoongi orders. Jimin swallows, pulling a deep breath through his clenched teeth. “Yes,” he says. Yoongi hums, “Did you believe them?” “No.”

“And how about now?” Yoongi asks resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in the palm of his hand. Jimin bottom lip trembles as more tears gather in the corner of his eyes, he wipes at them angrily before finally turning his gaze away from Yoongi’s. “Jimin, answer me,” Yoongi demands, he’s never had to demand Jimin to do anything before and he really doesn’t like it. His voice tastes bitter on his tongue and he tries hard to stop his hands from shaking with the need to just reach out and comfort the poor boy. But that can’t happen, not yet anyway. Jimin has been thrown into the underbelly of Seoul and the darkest parts of Yoongi’s life without any heads up or reassurance. Yoongi never got to take his hand and guide the younger into the unknown, and he will forever be sorry that Jimin had to find out this way. But there’s no sugar coating what Yoongi is, nor the life that he leads. He can promise Jimin that he’ll never come to harm ever again and Yoongi will do everything in his power to protect him. But that’s not enough. Jimin has a right to know how Yoongi really is, he has a right to know just how stained in sin the man he has come to love is. “How can I not believe them?” Jimin mutters, voice barely a whisper as he trains his gaze on the floor. “You k-killed two pe...” He can’t finish his words before an involuntary sob bubbles up his throat. Yoongi nods, glad Jimin understands somewhat the situation he’s found himself in. “Eyes back on me.” Jimin does as he’s told, but there’s a pleading look to his eyes that has the nasty stabbing of guilt twist harshly into his gut. He swings a leg over the man he’s been sat on, straddling his chest before slapping the fucker sharply across the face to bring him back around again. “Rise and shine,” he sing-songs, desperately trying to ignore the way Jimin flinches in on himself with every smack. The man grumbles away, wriggling in his bonds immediately, face paling in the wake of the situation. “What the fu...” Yoongi slaps him again for good measure, “Language,” he titters. “Wh-what are you gonna do t-to me?” the idiot stutters, voice marginally quieter then it was a few moments ago. Yoongi reaches into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out a silver switchblade that glistens just as menacingly as Yoongi’s sneer. “Nothing that you didn’t do to my right-hand man,” he explains in a sickly sweet voice. It’s satisfying hearing the screams of pain tumbling unbidden the man’s mouth as Yoongi’s knife slices through the flesh of his chest. He’s always enjoyed the sound of justice if it meant those that wronged him or the ones he loved got to suffer tenfold. He tries to be neat as he carves his little message into the flesh, but it’s hard when the idiot won't stop flailing about beneath him. “Hold fucking still, O’s are tricky,” Yoongi scolds, smacking the man across the cheek with his free

hand while he continues to work. The stinging slap silences the man’s screams just for a moment and alerts Yoongi to how unnervingly quiet Jimin is. He spies the younger out of the corner of his eye only to find Jimin hasn’t moved, body rigid and eyes wide as he’s forced to watch Yoongi mutilate another human being. This is the moment Yoongi’s guilt takes the reins, forcing Yoongi to speed up his carving just so that he can spare Jimin from seeing any more pain. It’s not like he wants Jimin to see him like this, if he could he would wrap Jimin in bubble wrap and hide him from anything dark and evil the world has to offer. But he has to make sure Jimin sees him, for all that he is. He has to make sure Jimin understands that he’s fallen in love with a monster. Despite Namjoon telling him not to decide what’s best for Jimin, Yoongi can’t help but want Jimin to run as far away from him as possible. It’s wholly unfair for Yoongi to have tainted the innocent boy as much as he already has. This is Jimin’s chance to escape, to be free of Yoongi. By the time Yoongi has finished, the man below him is far too weak from blood loss to find the strength in him to fight back anymore. So Yoongi pulls himself to his feet to admire his handy work. Don’t touch what’s mine “Beautiful, if I do say so myself,” Yoongi snickers. The man sighs, “You’re a monster.” “Well of course,” Yoongi agrees with a chuckle in his voice. “We’re all monsters in this game,” he adds before pulling his gun from his pocket again. He doesn’t even give the man a moment alone with god before he embeds a bullet right in the middle of his forehead Jimin screams accompany the sound of the gunshot. Jimin’s hands grip over his ears as he buries his face into his knees. He takes several laboured breaths before he finds his voice, and Yoongi waits patiently, stepping away from the scarlet mess the dead man has left behind. “W-why?” Jimin asks, voice rough as though it's been lined with sandpaper. “Why did you do all that if you were just going to kill him anyway?” “To send a message,” Yoongi explains, pocketing his gun and his knife before turning his body to completely face Jimin. He looks impossibly smaller and the sight doesn’t sit well with Yoongi. “Jimin, look at me.” “P-please –“ “Look at me.” Reluctantly, Jimin once again does as he’s told, his eyes overflowing with tears that for once Yoongi is unable to catch. “Are you scared of me?” Yoongi asks, surprised his own voice doesn’t come out like as rough as

Jimin’s. Jimin blinks through a new wave of tears, body trembling so much you’d think the poor boy was sat in a blizzard. It takes a good few minutes for Jimin to answer eyes so watery and so dark that Yoongi feels as though he’s lost the person he had fallen in love with. He’s ruined Jimin, taken some of the innocent and pure light that he carries and stamped it out with his cruel hand. Even if the younger learns to move on from this, he’ll never be the same. Fuck, Yoongi is worse than the devil himself. “Yes,” Jimin whimpers, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging them tightly to his chest. Yoongi takes a deep breath and finds that Jimin’s answer stings more than he thought it ever would. But this is what he wanted right? For Jimin to be so scared of him that he’ll leave and find something better, find someone worthy of loving him. Yoongi deserves this pain for ever thinking he could hold someone as bright and brilliant as Jimin. “Now ask me if I still love you,” Jimin whispers, rubbing the tears out of his eyes before he locks his gaze with Yoongi’s again. “What?” Jimin takes a deep breath before saying once more; “Now ask me if I still love you.” Yoongi scoffs, “How can you love something that you’re afraid of?” “That’s not the question I told you to ask me,” Jimin counters, and there’s still a fearful wobble to his voice despite how determined it sounds. Yoongi’s not sure if he can handle actually hearing that Jimin doesn’t love him anymore. It hurts less just assuming that’s how he feels now that he’s seen the darker side to Yoongi. But Jimin’s gaze is imploring and strong despite the way tears are still stained at the corners of his eyes. Yoongi can’t help but give the younger what he wants, even if it’s for the last time. “Do you still love me?” he asks. “Yes,” Jimin replies without even missing a beat. It takes one whole minute for Yoongi to register what Jimin’s just said, eyes uncontrollably blinking as if he’s a robot that’s just malfunctioned. “You – how? I – “ “I don’t understand this side of you and to be honest, I don’t think I want to. I don’t think I can handle knowing what other things you get up to under your role as mafia leader,” Jimin begins, taking steading breathes every few words. “This hidden life you have, it terrifies me, this hidden side of you terrifies me. But I still love you.” “How?” “I love Min Yoongi, whether he’s a big-time CEO or my considerate and caring boyfriend. I love you through the good and the bad,” Jimin explains, fingers clutching into his jeans.

Yoongi feels a little stunned, a little frozen where he stands as he struggles to gather what Jimin is saying. “But this,” Yoongi gestures to the bodies at his feet, “is more than just ‘The Bad’.” Jimin nods, “I know, and I can’t tell you that I’m okay and accept this side of you, because I just, I can’t. Not now at least. Not after everything...” He shivers, hiding his head against his knees. Yoongi takes a tentative step closer to Jimin, and to his surprise, the younger doesn’t flinch away. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t expect you to accept this and comprehend it all now. I just needed to you to know, need you to see every side of me.” “I wish you had done it in a better way,” Jimin whispers against his knees. Yoongi feels those words cut through his gut, “I’m sorry.” Jimin is crying again, his sobs echoing around them as he cries out all the fear, sadness and worry that’s consumed him over the last few hours. And Yoongi’s restraint crumbles as he thumps ungracefully to his knees in order to wrap Jimin in his arms. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He apologises once more, but all it does is have Jimin sobbing louder. The younger uncurling his arms from around his knees to grasp desperately tight at Yoongi’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, Sunshine.”

_____________ Present Day Japan has clearly been good for Ka, he’s fatter then he was when he left, his clothes are of designer brands and there are jade rings glistening from each one of his chubby fingers. He looks more like his old man like this, gluttonous and foolish, similar to that of a pig for slaughter and Yoongi can’t help but look upon this man with nothing but pity. He’s done well to have evaded Yoongi for so long, hidden deep in the heart of Osaka so that not even Yoongi’s hand could reach him. He’s always been sneaky, calculative in a way that will constantly ensure his survival. Ka’s smirk is small, merely a harsh upturn of one side of his thin greasy lips and a cock of his eyebrows. “How dignified of you to allow business to be conducted in your own office.” Home advantage. “Well, you are the child of my father’s dear business partner,” Yoongi replies, not even bothering to return any kind of emotion. Ka’s smirk drops immediately as he swallows down a lump of anger wedged in his throat. “Odd of you to refer to my father as a dear business partner. Does Daejung often murder his associates?” “Only those that are deserving of it,” Yoongi says, tone polite and crisp. Ka bristles, but only slightly. “Why did you call this meeting, Ka?” Namjoon asks. “It must be for something incredibly important if you would risk your own life like this.”

Ka waves a dismissive hand in Namjoon’s direction, “I’m not risking my life in being here, and the little mafia boss here will make sure of it.” There’s a glimmer of something sinister in the bead black irises of his eyes that has Yoongi scoffing at. “I will do no such thing,” Yoongi counters. “The moment you took what is mine you signed your death warrant. There are numerous people through the streets of Seoul that would gladly slice you up, if not for the bounty but just to say they have.” Ka chuckles, humourless and dark as he smooths down the ruffles in his shirt. He came alone, no goons nor lackeys at his side which means he must have something incredibly valuable to offer Yoongi. It also means he knows the value would be more than his own life too Yoongi, his confidence is just as cute as that of his useless underlings. Ka cracks his knuckles and lets out a long breath, “I have information on the whereabouts of a deed to a certain casino ship you’ve got your eye on.” Ka explains, gaze cast down at his nails in fake boredom. “You and the Russians, and the Chinese and the Japanese actually.” Neither Namjoon nor Yoongi make any move nor word to show they understand what’s being offered to them. Ka couldn’t make it any more obvious if he tried, after all. The Floating Lotus Casino is the biggest money-making casino throughout Asia, yet its deed was confiscated by Chinese authorities months ago. Thus leaving the ship floating just off the Hong Kong bay, gaining considerable profit with no one to claim it. Everyone wants that casino. Yoongi wants that casino. “Let me guess,” Namjoon begins straightening himself where he stands. “You want us to remove the bounty from your head in trade for the whereabouts of the deed?” Ka chuckles, shuffling uncomfortably on one of the metal chairs of the meeting room in Yoongi’s main office. Yoongi had the entire 22nd floor cleared out for this meeting, as well as the floors above and below it. There’s a ringing silence that echoes around the three of them, as they attempt to honourably strike a deal like their fathers would have when they were in charge. The only difference is, there’s no honour left between Yoongi and Ka now. Ka sniffs. “I want Itaewon too.” Namjoon scoffs, “Of course you fucking do.” “It's mine,” Ka snaps, all humour gone. “All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is what rightfully belongs to me.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ve heard more than enough,” he announces. “So, what do you say Yoon...” Ka says, that small smirk back on his face. But Yoongi doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Because he slips his gun out of his pocket with his hand and shoots the scumbag right between the eyes. “Yoongi!” Namjoon exclaims, jumping towards Ka as he flops over the table between them. “What

the fuck have you done?” Yoongi shrugs as he places his gun on the table. “I killed a dead man.” Namjoon huffs in pure frustration as he begins rifling through Ka’s pockets, clearly, in the hopes, the man had the information he was going to sell on him. “We need that casino, Yoongi, he knew where the fucking deed is and you fucking shot him.” “I don’t care,” Yoongi replies. “You’re a fucking idiot, Yoongi.” Namjoon growls. “Do you understand what you’ve done? There are still so many of Ka’s men out there that will come after you for this. You’ve basically gone and let the fucking casino slip through your fingers because if he doesn’t return alive to his men tonight, then you can bet your ass he’ll have sold the fucking location to someone else.” “Again,” Yoongi replies in a voice as cool and calm as death itself. “I don’t care.” “Why!” Namjoon shouts exasperatedly. “Why the fuck would you not care about this? This is one of the worst possible fucking outcomes we could have stumbled across.” Yoongi sighs, standing to his feet. “Then we’ll fix it.” “I don’t think it’s that easily fixable,” Namjoon spits. “What the fuck has gotten into you?” Yoongi glares at the lifeless body before him. “No one touches my Sunshine.”

Chapter End Notes

This chapter is very different to all the other chapters thus far, mainly because it's from Yoongi's POV (of which I have been so hyped to write let me tell you) but also because I jump with time within the chapter for a change >.< But, as this is the last actual chapter, I wanted to it be a mirror in a way of the very first chapter where Jimin gushes about his husband and then breaks down after Yoongi makes him watch the stalkers die. PARALLELS MY FRIEND! (//3//) So this is how Jimin found out Yoongi is a mafia boss 0v0 and the events of chapter 6 follow the flashback portion of this chapter~ I feel like George Lucas with the way I've set up all these flashback chapters uwu BUT THIS IS IT! WE ARE NOW DOWN TO THE LAST CHAPTER! AND IF I DON'T MAKE YOU CRY WITH CHAPTER 15 THEN HAVE I REALLY DONE MY JOB?? It might take a while to come to you, however, as I am currently working on commissions and looking for part time jobs alongside my full-time job because I'm struggling being an adult haha! BUT ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING THROUGH THIS WITH ME! I will get real sappy with the thank you's in the last chapter notes, but honestly, I'm so overwhelmed by all the love and support this has received! And I'm so

sorry if I don't get to your comments I honestly love reading them I'm just so terrible at replying! I promise I will though!! Lastly, a huge thank you to my beta's who make this chapter so much better (it's honestly such a mess when I send it to them) GO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE Sasa♥ and Lex♥ And also, come be friends with me and lets freak out over BTS and squeal and be cute together!! I don't bite :.< Phibi♥, one of my first mutuals who offers unconditional love and support no matter what. You deserve the world, MY CHILD YOU ARE WONDERFUL. Charms-chan♥, my precious flower, thanks for betaing the last chapter for me, thanks for threatening to bite the ankles of those that ‘wrong me’, thanks for being the bestest bro, I LOVE YOU!

Sasa♥, I’m sorry you gotta deal with my terrible writing all the time >.< you’re honestly a little saint and deserve many uwus and hugs and head pats! Lex♥, MY LOVE who gives me strength when I’m ready to pack up and go live in a cave in the mountains. You pulled me through these last few big ass hurdles, you pushed me and encouraged me and you’re so incredibly important to me thank you so much for being you, cos you are wonderful! And thanks to everyone who read this story, you made me want to keep going, honestly, thank you so so much!! hmu♥ on twitter Stay excellent~ Hyunnie xox

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