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The carpet is soft and plush under the wheels of Jimin's suitcase. Bracketed bulbs wash the hallway in dim light- it's a much nicer building, Jimin decides, than he could've afforded to live in by himself.
24, 25... 26.
This is it.
It's a trip standing outside his new home, knocking twice: loud but not loud enough to be considered rude, listening to the muffled sounds of someone scrambling to open the door. Jimin knows nothing about wood but he likes the ways his knocks echo through the hallway, and presumably the apartment too. It's a steady, rounded sound.
The door swings open and the whole world stops for a second.
His flatmate stands in the doorway illuminated by the brighter lighting in the apartment. He's smiling wide and friendly and Jimin can't get his brain to focus on anything other than how delicious his dimples are, how otherworldly the boy's delicate features make him look. His eyes are open and welcoming, and Jimin's losing himself.
"Park Jimin?" The boy's rough voice snaps him out of it, allows Jimin to gather himself long enough to reply.
"Yes!" He curses himself when it comes out an almost- squeak. "Hoseok?"
Their handshake is warm and Jimin is over the moon.
"Come in. It's nice to meet you."
Jimin lugs his suitcase inside taking in the inside of their apartment. It's modern and a little impersonal but really fucking tidy- everything at right angles and plenty of clear space. Even the kitchen's spic and span, not one dirty dish in the sink.
He’s hardly given time to soak it all in when Hoseok speaks again.
"Wanna see your room?"
Hoseok's already making his way over to the opposite end of the apartment, back the way they'd come. He's pulling the furthest door open, holding it out courteously for Jimin.
Jimin smiles offering a quiet, "Thanks," as he steps through. His room's not much different from the apartment itself, clean walls and muted gray carpet. It's already furnished, a low queen bed taking up space in the corner.
He sets his luggage down at the foot of the bed, flops onto it hard. It's bouncy and the sheets slide over his skin.
Jimin's still hyperaware of Hoseok, leaning against the doorjamb.
"Like it?" He asks, amused.
"Love it," Jimin replies with a smile, running his arms over the blanket.
"Your bathroom's right opposite, down the hall. You can make yourself anything from the kitchen. How was the drive down?"
Jimin sits up. "Boring. Super long. Nothing much to see 'cept for grazing cows. Horses, once in a while, if you're lucky."
Hoseok chuckles at that. "The worst," He agrees.
He's so, so gorgeous. Not just in the way he looks, but the way he carries himself. Jimin doesn't want to sound like a 6- year old with a vocabulary derived from Dora the Explorer and exactly two picture books, but Hoseok is so... cool.
He doesn't know much about the older boy, had trusted Taehyung and Yoongi who'd raved about him. They'd only communicated via email before, sorting out rent and their contract and all that. He'd seemed professional, pleasant but distant and Jimin hadn't thought much of the boy.
But Jimin gets it now.
He's about to ask Hoseok for dinner, ask Hoseok what TV shows he watches so they can watch together, sort out house rules- but Hoseok's pushing himself off the wall, jangling the car keys in his hands softly.
He pulls out his phone, checks the time.
"Ahhh, Jimin... I'm so sorry. I have to go." Guilt flashes in his eyes. "A producer I'm working with sent me feedback like, right now. Talk about housekeeping and groceries and all that later?"
Jimin can do nothing but nod, watching as the older boy skips out of his room. He hears various items being grabbed, stomping of boots being put on. A quick, "Bye!" before the door slams shut with finality.
He's confused, a little awkward and hurt. Hoseok had only shown him around for a grand total of two minutes before leaving- was checking feedback that important? Why couldn't it be done at home? Does Hoseok not wanna talk?
The apartment is so, so still. Jimin hoists himself up, stumbling over to the kitchen.
I understand, he tries to convince himself.
They can talk later.
***
Later never arrives.
Hoseok always wakes up after Jimin leaves, always comes back from the studio once Jimin's retreated to his room. They've worked out a fragile balance, cooking for two whenever they can, offering to split chores on the rare occasion that they eat together.
Outside of that, they haven't talked much at all. Jimin doesn't know if Hoseok is genuinely busy or just ignoring him.
Not all flatmates are close, Jimin knows this. But he and Hoseok could be so good together.
As just friends.
Obviously. He just wishes the older boy would stay in the flat for long enough to hold a proper conversation with him.
He's filling his drink bottle, ready to hit the gym before dance club starts next week. This semester's just a 12- week selection period for the university's dance crew and Jimin wants his body in peak condition. The door swings open and Jimin almost drops the lid.
Hoseok's whistling, hair tucked into beanie and earphones in. The older boy removes his earphones when he sees Jimin, gaze lingering on bare skin exposed by his muscle tee.
"Nice arms, bro."
Jimin blushes, searching for other items to throw in his bag to seem busy.
"Thanks," He replies, brave. "Gym with me one day. You can have them too, you know."
Hoseok blanches.
"Gotta pass on that, sorry," He says not sounding apologetic at all, "Dancing is more than enough for me."
"You dance too?" Jimin is more surprised than he should be: this does, after all, explain Hoseok's grace in literally everything he does.
"Yeah!" Jimin tries not to stare at the light in his eyes. This is the most enthusiastic he's seen the older boy. "I danced for the crew last year. You trying out?"
"Yeah..." Jimin is awed. How could someone be more perfect. "Tell me all about it when I get home from gym?"
"For sure," Hoseok replies, tapping keys on the kitchen island. "How did I not know this about you before?"
He seems genuinely puzzled and Jimin wants to smack his head. Lightly. Because you never fucking talk to me unless you need more cereal, he wants to say. But he doesn't. Instead he finds himself offering an olive branch.
"Actually," Jimin starts, uncertainty bleeding into his voice, "Wanna get dinner after I get back? We can talk about dance. And other things you don't know about me."
Hoseok looks up at him and Jimin's heart's in his throat for a moment.
"Fucking keen for that," Hoseok drawls, a smile in his voice. "Done. I'll find a place."
Jimin smiles back, relieved. He needn't have worried after all.
***
Three hours later Jimin's unlocking the door, sweaty and bone weary but so damn excited. He knows something's wrong when he finds the lights off in the apartment. His fears are confirmed when he finds a sticky note on the door to his room.
Jiminie!
I'm so fucking sorry my course director called me with a new deadline! I need to finish a section tonight to show her tomorrow morning T__ T. Rain check? There's ramen on the stove.
- Hoseok
Jimin's lips purse. What the fuck, Hoseok. The ramen is tasteless but it's okay. His appetite's mostly gone anyway.
His anger simmers down pretty fast, but Jimin still goes to bed upset that night.
***
"You think your roommate hates you,” Taehyung repeats drily from across the cafe table.
"Everything sounds dumb when you say it like that!" Jimin says, eyes imploring Taehyung to understand.
"Why do you think he hates you," Yoongi asks from beside him. The mint- haired senior's considerably quieter now, in the morning, than usual.
It's almost sad watching Yoongi, Jimin thinks: the loud, funny senior reduced to mumbled words and sporadic sips of Taehyung's drink.
"Okay. He doesn't like, outwardly hate me. It's subtle. He avoids me, blows me off, flakes on plans... and I know he spends a ton of time with his other friends. It's not like he's too busy to socialise. He even sent me a snapchat of him and his friends getting high last Sunday."
The setting's light and he says it like a joke, but Jimin's dead serious. It's been another few weeks and they still haven't had a proper hangout. It's fucking frustrating and he's really tired of holding out hope for the older boy.
Yoongi chuckles. "Trust me," He says, marginally more awake, "He doesn't hate you."
Jimin rolls his eyes. "But how do you know that. He-"
"He tells me everything, you muppet. He thinks you're cool."
He- Jimin's screaming on the inside. He's hoping neither Taehyung nor Yoongi saw his mini meltdown- but these hopes are dashed when he comes back to Earth and catches them both exchanging a look, shaking their heads.
"Cool is like, the least sincere compliment you can give anyone. What are we, six years old? Cool is like-"
"Jimin," Taehyung interrupts, "You've been calling Hoseok cool for a month now."
He's right. Jimin breathes out a sigh. "I just don't get it. He's best friends with everyone! You should see him at dance club. So why can't..."
"Why can't he be best friends with you?" Jimin looks up to find Yoongi's pitying eyes on him.
"Yeah," He mumbles.
"Not everyone can make best friends in a snap like you, Jimin." Taehyung's words are balm. "And it's impossible for anyone to hate you. Especially someone as cool as Hoseok."
"True..." Jimin knows better than to argue.
"Speaking of dance," Yoongi breaks in, changing the subject before Jimin comes close to tears again, "Tell us all about it."
"It's so fucking mint," Jimin says, willingly taking the bait, "It's not stuff I've done before but there's this girl, Darna, she teaches us and everyone's so good? So we go through everything like, super fast."
They nod and Jimin's not sure if they understand the rest of his rant. But he continues anyway, letting his two best friends heal him for the time being.
***
“Fuck you Jung Hoseok!”
Jimin’s shriek bounces around the empty apartment, empty coco pops box flying from his hands into the recycling bin. Hoseok should’ve known better, thrown the cereal box away, written it up on the grocery list so Jimin could’ve gone out and bought more.
So Jimin would have something to fucking eat as he sits here at 2am, hacking away at his computer, hoping to produce something he wouldn’t be embarrassed to submit tomorrow.
He fills his stomach with coffee instead- health is wealth, he knows- and shakes his head to clear any thoughts of his troublesome flatmate.
They creep back though, barely half an hour later- it’s 2:30am and dance practice ended about five and a half hours ago. Jimin would know: he’d attended for a bit and skipped out halfway through. There's only a week left until first round selections and Jimin can’t afford to miss too much choreo.
Jimin also can’t afford to fail this assignment. Which is why he should stop worrying about his good-for-hardly-anything-except-dance, irresponsible, careless, fuckboy flatmate.
It’s not fair, he thinks as he scrolls up to edit his last paragraph. It’s not fair that Hoseok can get away with not attending lectures or tutorials, can take a totally relaxed degree. It’s not fair that Hoseok’s so damn good at what he does, that he doesn’t worry about anything except dancing and making music to dance to.
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and pulls himself together. This assignment is important. He can do this.
Yet another hour passes before the front door swings open.
It’s Hoseok in the hallway, wearing a loose shirt and sweatpants that sit low on his hips. Even now, even in the dead of night, he’s fucking attractive.
Jimin tries not to stare.
Ends up looking too closely, catches the redness around his eyes.
“Jimin…”
His drawl is low, scratchy, and somehow soothing. A reprieve from the dvsn he’d had on loop for the last six hours or so.
“You missed quite a bit today, want me to run through the section you missed so you’re…”
Hoseok stops short at Jimin’s glare. Hoseok had gotten closer while talking and Jimin had smelt it.
Weed, unmistakable. Great. Now, on top of Hoseok living his best life while Jimin slaves behind his laptop screen, the older boy's getting high on weeknights, too? He doesn’t have time for this.
“Take a shower,” Jimin bites out, frustration and stress making itself evident in his voice. “You smell like shit.”
Hoseok steps back, hurt flashing in his eyes. Jimin regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he makes no move to rectify the situation. Hoseok can handle it. He’s used to having too many friends, always being humoured and supported. He already thinks Jimin’s a grade A asshole.
Their relationship sucks, but 3am on a Wednesday night is not the right time to change anything.
“Goodnight,” Hoseok mumbles, flat and short.
His bedroom door slams shut behind him.
***
It’s buzzing in the dance basement with around 40 students milling around bopping to buzzing EDM.
Jimin had scanned the basement upon arrival, made a beeline for the familiar silver head.
Taemin stands next to him now, chugging a drink bottle. Jimin glances at the door every thirty seconds- Hoseok had told him he’d be here over breakfast this afternoon. He’d never admit it out loud but Jimin was a tiny bit worried for the older boy.
Hoseok had, despite Jimin’s rudeness, followed through on his promise to go through choreo together. It’d been sweet if not a little awkward; it’s funny, in hindsight, how desperately they’ve both been trying to make amends for previous shitty behaviour.
Today, three more places would be filled- Hoya and Darna had already taken their spots as leaders of the crew, leaving seven for everybody else.
It’s been an hour. The door swings open and Jimin nearly snaps his neck whipping his head around to look- until he realises it’s just another dancer leaving.
Taemin smiles at him, radiating chill as he stretches deep.
“Who you waiting for, Minnie?”
Jimin’s eyes stray to the door yet again. “Hoseok,” he says, biting his lip.
“You’re real worried, huh?”
Taemin’s playing now, pouting, mock concern on his face. Taemin knows all about the hot and cold relationship Jimin has with his flatmate: he’s been subject to Jimin’s ranting too many times.
“Fuck off,” Jimin groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s been… pretty sweet recently.”
“Do you think he wants anything?” Taemin’s tone is light, unintrusive.
“Nah, not really? Like, what could he even want from me that he couldn’t get anywhere else.”
Jimin can feel Taemin’s eyes rolling back into his head.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! I just think he’s trying to connect. Months late.”
“And you're trying to connect too?”
Jimin’s about to nod, affirm but he’s stopped from responding by a commotion at the doors.
Hoseok’s impossible to miss, strutting in like he owns the place. And he does, judging by the number of people that call out for him, extending their arms for hugs and broshakes.
Jimin opens his mouth to call Hoseok over, but the words die on his tongue. He’s unsure, shy again, not quite sure where their tentative friendship stands in the face of Hoseok’s popularity.
Their eyes lock in the mirror and Hoseok smiles, offering a small salute which jimin reciprocates too damn fast. The older boy opens his mouth, turning to face Jimin when another group calls, dragging his attention away. That wide grin’s back and Party Hoseok’s on- Jimin goes back to drilling the routine into muscle memory.
Forty minutes later Jimin’s bangs are drenched with sweat and his chest hurts in the best way. The majority of the room seems to have no trouble keeping pace with Hoya’s teaching either- everyone seems to be great, and Jimin feels a twinge of fear. He’s focussing on the lines of his body, the way they flow when Hoseok calls out.
“Woahh… Jimin…” He’s sitting leaning on the wall, voice awed and loud.
Jimin runs a hand through his hair, shy at Hoseok’s tone and the attention it brings.
“Sweat’s a good look on you.” The older boy’s gaze sweeps Jimin’s body, tone appreciative.
Taemin hides his smirk with his water bottle.
“Get up, let’s do it together.” Jimin surprises even himself, extending a hand.
Hoseok takes it, long fingers curling over Jimin’s, eyes shining with surprise. They line themselves up in front of the mirror, bounce a bit to get in the zone, wait for the music to loop back around.
And then they’re off, moving their hips and feet to the music in time. Jimin’s attention is wholly on his movements and how perfectly he executes every move- until he catches sight of Hoseok in the mirror. The older boy’s grinning, making faces at Jimin in the mirror. His body continues to move in perfect rhythm.
“Stop it!” Jimin finds himself laughing, taking away any seriousness his words may have had. They’re doing body waves when Hoseok’s tongue comes out to play, peeking through the corner of his heart shaped fucking mouth and this, paired with the older boy’s suddenly piercing gaze, makes everything go tight.
Jimin breaks, whirling away from the mirror to smack Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok’s just cackling like he’s done nothing wrong. Demon.
“I can’t-”
“Alright! Alright! Alright!!”
The room quiets immediately, everyone extremely aware of tonight’s proceedings. They draw closer to the front of the room, Taemin on Jimin’s left, Hoseok on his right.
“Welcome to selections for this year’s crew! Thank you all for turning up to the first practice out of nine!”
He keeps talking but Jimin taps his foot, impatient.
Hoya finally, finally starts announcing names.
“Lee Taemin.”
Jimin turns, incredibly glad and a little giddy. Taemin’s smiling so hard and if all goes well, if all goes well, they’ll be on the team together.
“Hafya Ali.”
Jimin had been expecting this. He almost feels dizzy with expectation, gritting his teeth to stop the fidgeting.
“Kim Chungha.”
He’s not scared. It’s not a big deal, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.
“Jung Hoseok.”
Jimin breathes in.
Breathes out.
No more names are called.
It’s a big fucking deal.
Everything else goes fuzzy. Jimin has his happy face on, hugging Taemin and Hafya and cheering with everyone else for a bit. The chosen four go up to the front, form a circle around Hoya and Darna, start to chat all smiles and hi fives.
Hoseok shakes his hair out and it’s the hottest thing but Jimin’s still can’t focus because he’s frustrated and mad and he deserves this and Hoseok doesn’t. Taemin shoots him a guilty smile from the front. Jimin dredges up any remnant of positive emotion and forces it into his returning grin.
It’s the worst thing to be upset while others are celebrating. It’s the worst for Jimin because he has to pretend, has to put a mask on- especially now when all he has the energy to do is run to his bed and cry. It’s the worst for others because they start feeling guilty for feeling so good- and Jimin can tell, Jimin can tell when he makes other people feel guilty because that’s when the tight- lipped smiles, the kind eyes, the worried glances all come out to play.
He doesn’t want to be over analysed and walked on eggshells around, not tonight.
He feels bad but he’ll just text Taemin and gush more congratulations that way: Taemin needs to truly enjoy tonight.
Jimin gathers his bags and bottles, makes his way out the door and back to the flat. Everyone that passes by seems to be staring at him, pointing with pitying eyes.
It’s okay! Jimin wants to scream. It’s okay, because it’s not a big deal!
Over time, it’ll get easier and easier to believe.
The thought of interacting with Hoseok tonight makes Jimin physically recoil. He’d rather die than deal with Hoseok, obnoxiously loud and happy, especially now. He’s probably getting high on celebratory weed right this moment.
God, Jimin wants to get high.
Instead, Jimin takes a shower, screaming out his frustration where no one else can hear.
***
“So now not only does your flatmate hate you, you hate your flatmate.” Taehyung's tone is flat but Jimin nods anyway, seething into his pad thai.
"Taehyung, honestly. I've worked so fucking hard for this. Taehyung. I literally went to every single practice on time, practiced my ass off. He comes late every single time. Every single time! And he jacks around in the corner while we're all drilling choreo."
Taehyung purses his lips. "The worst kind of person."
"Exactly!" Jimin shovels another bite into his mouth.
"Is he a better dancer than you, though?" This comes from Yoongi, calmly dabbing his lips.
Jimin winces.
"Duuuude," He and Taehyung say at the same time.
"Is he?" Jin presses.
Jimin leans back, letting out a huge sigh.
"Kinda? I guess."
"You guess?"
"Like, with the stuff we're doing right now. And he's a really fast learner. But like, contemporary..."
"Obviously," Taehyung breaks in, "Jiminnie's the best at contemporary."
Jimin nods, proud. "Obviously."
"I don't know," Yoongi says, moving onto his second bowl. "It just sounds like you don't really hate him. You just have a big crush on him. I know you, Park Jimin."
Jimin chokes on his food, coughing embarrassingly loud to clear his throat.
"What?"
Yoongi says nothing, just stares back oh- so- judgmentally with raised eyebrows.
"You don't get it!" He whisper-yells, "We. Hate. Each. Other! Because of me! I can't stop acting like a dick around him these days."
Taehyung and Jin exchange a look, shaking their heads at Jimin together.
"Just say sorry," Jin says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He's chill, right?"
Right, Jimin thinks. When he thinks of his smoking hot flatmate chill isn't really the first word that comes to mind but whatever. It'll be utterly humiliating and Jimin will want to melt into a puddle of goo when he does but hey. It's worth a shot.
***
Eight weeks in and Jimin’s really feeling it.
Exhaustion.
He’s a little frazzled, a little all over the place: between all the reading and lectures and tutorials and catch ups he’s hardly had time to breathe. But it’s 1pm now, and he’s just waking up, stumbling into the kitchen to put a bowl of coco pops together.
He’s not going to the lectures today and he doesn’t feel bad, not one bit.
“Good morning, Jimin,” The voice is scratchy, low and amused.
Jimin stills, head whipping to the lounge where his flatmate stands, huge basket of wet laundry in his arms. Sunrays dance along Hoseok’s shirt as he walks across the room.
He’s gorgeous. Jimin snaps himself out of it.
They haven't talked properly after Hoseok got selected: Jimin had pushed himself back into his shell, hadn’t initiated contact. Because he’s still jealous.
Because he doesn’t want Hoseok to know.
“Is… it that the laundry?”
Hoseok replies with the dryest look any man can muster. Jimin immediately feels bad. In all the weeks they’d been living together, he hadn’t lifted a finger to help with laundry even once.
“Do you need help?”
Hoseok doesn’t reply for a while and Jimin begins to think the boy hasn’t heard. And then comes the reply, hesitant.
“I… I could probably use help, yeah.”
The coco pops sit, abandoned and far too soggy as Jimin makes his way to the balcony where Hoseok stands, pinning clothes up on their line. Now that Jimin’s awake, he can better appreciate the way Hoseok’s hair is tucked up and off his forehead with a snapback, his features sharper and more prominent now.
Jimin starts filling up the other side of the clothesline, quiet and methodical.
“How’s dance practice with the crew?”
Hoseok looks down at him from where he’s pinning a pair of trousers up, surprised.
“You’ll find out soon enough for yourself when you get picked at the end of the semester.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, snorts.
“With only three spots left? Not likely dude.”
Hoseok flicks a towel at Jimin, water drops hitting the younger boy in his face.
“Jimin....” his voice is kind. “You have a really good chance. Trust me. Just keep doing your best, yeah?”
Jimin wipes the water droplets off his face, a little annoyed. He flicks Hoseok back, considerably harder.
“Why are you always so fake nice?”
Hoseok stills, eyes narrowing, using his whole hand to wipe the moisture off his face. His next flick hits Jimin in the stomach like a punch.
“Why would you think it's fake? And why are you always so rude? Why so angry, all the time?”
Jimin’s sweating a little and it’s definitely not because of the heat. It’s funny, he thinks, how hard it is to reply coherently without exposing his deepest insecurities and desires.
“Right now? I’m mad because you’ve been doing laundry this whole time without me, and you never ask for help. I can help.”
Jimin’s towel is too dry to flick so he picks another one up and aims for Hoseok’s bare shoulder.
Hoseok looks like he wants to laugh.
“You always get all the groceries though, every week.” Flick.
“You always clean the flat though.” Flick.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I have more reason to be mad than you. Who do you think puts your fucking bag away every time you dump it on the coffee table?”
Jimin stares at Hoseok. Hoseok’s eyes widen. Flick.
“Why didn't you say anything before, then? Why are you always so fucking good and nice-”
Hoseok interrupts Jimin’s flick, grabbing the end of the towel and pulling the younger boy forward until the space between them is short and full of tension.
“I’m nice because I like you, you little shit. I'm just playing right now. You're cool. Nice, too. Real nice, not fake nice.” He says, tightening his grip and narrowing his eyes, "Not like me."
His voice is low but he’s smiling. After all this, still smiling.
Jimin makes a defeated noise, dropping the towel to smack Hoseok’s chest.
“No, i didn't- you never had the time to hang out until like, two seconds ago,” Jimin’s voice is still petulant. “How come you're suddenly spending all this time with me.”
Hoseok’s lips tighten, form a line.
“Would working on my mixtape be big enough of an excuse?” The older boy’s eyes are genuine.
"How can a mixtape take that much of your time? You didn't even know my major until like, a week ago!"
Hoseok lowers his eyes, just a bit. "I'm not... I'm not a very people person. It might seem like it!" He rushes when Jimin opens his mouth to argue, "But like. You're kinda right. At dance club, it's like... me being fake nice. And you're my flatmate. Being fake nice doesn't cut it."
"No," Jimin says, "It doesn't."
"Sometimes it's like... I'm wearing this mask around people, you know? And I come home and I wanna take it off but at the beginning I didn't really know you. So I didn't take it off. Spent all my time at the studio instead of getting to know you better."
Jimin softens. "Hey, don't worry about it, I'm... I'm sorry about all the dickish things I've been doing-"
Hoseok snorts at that.
"-I didn't mean to pressure you or anything, I just... didn't know. Assumed shit."
The older boy has a tender look on his face, dimples peeking through.
Jimin stares at them for longer than he should. Hoseok's voice jolts him back to reality.
"We good?"
Jimin's completely mollified at this point. “Yeah. Is it done?”
“What?”
“Your mixtape. Is it done?”
Hoseok scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Yeah, actually. There was a fuckton of pressure from my course director and shit but- yeah, dude. It’s done.”
“Can I…Can I listen to it sometime?” Jimin’s cautious with the question, aware of how personal work like this can be. He needn’t have worried, though.
“I can play it sometime, around the house. While we’re cleaning it.”
Jimin smiles. Hears the word left unspoken, loud and clear.
Together.
***
It’s past midnight and Jimin’s bibliography swims in front of his eyes. He’s been referencing for close to two hours and wanting to die for about the same time.
Just fake it, bro, they’ll never check, Taehyung’s voice echoes in his ears but Jimin knows what a stickler his tutor is. Taehyung can easily get away with it in his immunology major but accounting? Where they really only have one big assessed essay all semester? No way.
Jimin’s not wearing headphones anymore: he’d thrown them off to the side a while back, head aching from the weight. That’s why he hears it: the scraping of a key inside their lock. The door swings open and then Hoseok’s right there, his charm already so damn loud in the stillness of the apartment.
Jimin puts on a tight- lipped smile. They’ve been making good on their promises, truly- hanging out more, communicating, sharing chores more evenly. Jimin’s not insecure about Hoseok finding him boring anymore, especially after they’d made a habit of jamming together on late weeknights- jamming to Hoseok’s music more often than not.
But he missed gym today and he lost one of his better journal articles among the 50 open tabs and he knows, he’s feeling a lot more pissy than he has any right to be.
Jimin’s shoulders stiffen as Hoseok walks up behind him. He’s tense in that moment- until Hoseok’s hands come up to rest on Jimin’s shoulders, massaging gently. It’s funny how fucking fast Jimin goes limp, leaning into Hoseok’s touch, tipping his head back to watch Hoseok with half- lidded eyes. The older boy meets his eyes, gaze soft and mouth twisted in a wry little smile.
The low angle emphasises Hoseok’s pert nose and makes his dimples stand out just that bit more. The lighting’s not that great but Jimin appreciates the view nonetheless.
He doesn’t know why he does it. To break through that wall of charm? Rile Hoseok up, maybe?
The older boy’s thumbs meet a particularly sensitive spot and Jimin moans, definitely louder and longer than he needs to. His lips part, face slacking and angled up to expose his jawline. He lets out a couple more whimpers knowing full well the effect, knowing full well how fucked out he looks right now.
They haven’t broken eye contact. That’s how Jimin is able to see how Hoseok’s pupils dilate, gaze getting heavier, mouth falling open to match Jimin’s.
“All this stress can’t be good for you, Jiminie” His voice is husky, scratchier than usual.
“My double major’s fucking me over,” It’s barely a whisper but Hoseok catches it easily in the silent room.
Hoseok shakes his head.
“Why’d you put all that on yourself…” Hoseok get’s closer, hands moving lower.
It’s a rhetorical question but Jimin finds himself answering anyway, shrugging.
“ s’ unfair, I know… we can’t all get high and make music all day.”
He knows he’s fucked up even before the words leave his mouth. Hoseok immediately stiffens and steps back, hands lifeless and sliding off Jimin’s shoulders.
“That’s what you think I-”
“No! No! Hoseok I dunno why I said that, ‘s not what I think I promise- it’s just- your hands felt too good, I wasn’t thinking-”
“Yeah, you weren’t,” Hoseok laughs it out and Jimin’s seen hundreds of different smiles on the boy but this one… this fake one with edges of hurt is his least favourite.
Jimin spins off the chair, clinging onto Hoseok’s arm for all he’s worth.
“Please, Hoseok, I’m sorry! I know music production’s really hard too, I was just-”
Hoseok spins back to face him and there’s barely an inch of space between them.
“Just what? Taking away from all the work I do? Again?”
“It was a dumb thing to say, I know how hard you work-”
“Do you? Do you, though?”
Jimin’s chest is heaving and he offers no defence, just a helpless noise from the back of his throat.
“Getting high doesn’t make you a better artist. It takes practice, time and dedication. Just like everything else.”
Jimin looks down, chewing on his hip. He’s truly remorseful, wishes he could go back in time to three minutes ago.
“It was way out of line, dude. I’m just… I was just jealous, I guess. You’re always chilled and super relaxed even though you’re studying too, and.... I guess I wanted to get you to share weed with me but… It came out all wrong. It wasn't what I meant. At all.”
“You wanted to share weed?” Hoseok’s tone is a shade lighter now and Jimin breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Would’ve paid for it.” The reply is mumbled and Jimin’s cheeks burn.
Hoseok pulls his arm away from where Jimin has it trapped, sliding it down and interlocking their fingers. Jimin stares at their hands dumbly until Hoseok gives it a squeeze.
“Weed isn’t some kind of magical answer, Jiminie. It can’t solve all your problems.” His tone’s kind but the message is clear. No smoking today.
Jimin sighs, deflating.
“Yeah, fair. I… just wanted some stress relief, is all.”
It’s all calm for a while, Hoseok turning their hands over, humming softly.
“Stress relief, huh?” He pulls away, disappears into his room, rummaging for a while. “I can help with that, I guess.”
Jimin’s clueless. He doesn’t know what Hoseok’s looking for in his room, maybe a bong after all, or even better, a pack of condoms- wait where’d that thought come from go away- but a couple minutes later the older boy emerges with a key ring, jingling softly in his hands.
“Got it!” He’s grinning, triumphant, and Jimin his mood lifting despite having no idea what they’re about to do.
***
“What.”
“Impressive, I know.”
Hoseok waggles his eyebrows through the huge mirrors that line the walls, making Jimin giggle. The dance basement looks ten times bigger without anyone in it, the bare floors and echoing squeaks urging Jimin to dance, dance, dance.
“I didn’t know you had access to the basement?
Hoseok’s near the front fiddling with the sound system, a low dirty beat soon thrumming from the wooden floors. Then he’s crip walking to Jimin with that infuriating smirk on his face, stepping around Jimin, getting in his face.
“You’ll have access too when you join the crew at the end of semester.”
Jimin smacks him away.
“Don’t say that shit!”
“Why, you scared I’ll jinx it?”
Jimin starts forward, grabbing Hoseok’s face with his hands, backing him up against a mirror. He’s laughing, barely gets the words out.
“Yes! Fucking yes! I really want this and I don’t wanna get my hopes too high!”
Hoseok breaks away, sliding down the mirror to lean his back against it, knees drawn up.
“Jiminie, I’m not joking. We honestly need your style, it’s different. You did ballet-”
“Contemporary.”
“- Contemporary, and it shows so good when you perform… all you need is that one bit of audience connection to secure your spot. I mean. Make it more secure than it already is.
Jimin’s lips quirk up, touched by the faith Hoseok has in him. He runs his hand through his hair and his next words are honest, frank. His insecurities are gone, vaporised for the time being by the bright lights and Hoseok’s stare.
“I… I’m always half a beat behind everyone else. It’s so hard to fix. Plus, everyone that got selected has really sharp style. Like, all of you make moves look bigger than everyone else and it’s always like, bam bam bam. Power.”
Hoseok doesn’t reply for a while, standing up to circle around the room.
“Yeah. Nah. I get you, but that’s not the issue. Taemin’s dance style is a little like yours actually, and he’s having no problem dancing with the crew. What we want,” The older boy stops behind Jimin, looking straight at him in the mirror. “What we want, is impact. I think, today, train yourself out of looking at the ground or at the corners of the room for too long. Do they teach you that in modern?”
“In lyrical, sometimes, yeah.”
Hoseok nods. “When we compete, we want the audience to vote for us. And you need eye contact for that connection. Look at the mirror. Look at me, instead of yourself.”
It’s weirdly intimate and Jimin feels a blush rising on his cheeks.
“Don't be shy! Look at me like I just stole your notes and got a better grade than you.”
Strangely, in this setting with no one else around and free space making the room seem a ton bigger than it is, Jimin loses his inhibitions.
So he does, twisting his expression into one of disgust.
“Now do the routine we learnt last week. Do you still remember?”
Jimin’s in character, curling his lip and drawing his eyebrows closer together spitting out an, “Of course,” as contemptuously as he can.
Hoseok erupts into laughter, almost hitting the ground as he crumples into himself. It makes Jimin fucking glad that he made Hoseok laugh this hard for once but he continues with the routine, getting further and further into the vibe.
“Damn, fuck. Keep you eyes on me! Now pretend i'm Taehyung. I’m spending too much time with Yoongi and I don’t have much time for you anymore.”
“Oooh, that hits a little too close to home.”
“Do it.”
And so Jimin does, the lines of his body shouting don’t be like this, his face morphing into hurt, eyes swirling with betrayal. The fear of this situation playing out in real life makes everything a tad too real and Hoseok must sense this. He’s been silent the whole time, and his next words are quiet.
“Now look at me like you want to fuck me.”
Jimin thinks he must have heard Hoseok wrong over the music.
“What?”
If anything, Hoseok’s stare gets more intense. “Look at me like you want to fuck me. And continue the routine.”
Jimin’s steps falter.
“Don’t think you can do it?”
What the fuck? Of course Jimin could. And it wouldn’t be hard. Jimin enjoys the little inside joke with himself: The older boy’s acting like Jimin doesn’t already look at him like that.
A deep breath in, and out, and then his eyes are half lidded, gaze piercing. His mouth’s open and his tongue comes out to play, licking the corner of his top lip before he continues choreo, making his movements more sinuous than they need to be.
“More.”
Jimin tries to make his movements bigger, smoother and he’s not following choreo exactly anymore but Hoseok wants more so he’s gotta give him more and it’s only because Jimin’s focussing all his attention onto the older boy that he sees Hoseok gulp. If Jimin was paying a bit more attention, he’d see how Hoseok’s entire upper body is frozen, how he’s barely breathing.
“More.”
There’s nothing left to do now but imagine Hoseok’s voice, low and growling, whispering that damn word into Jimin’s ear as Jimin fucks into him, his silky hair fanning out across the pillow-
The music fades out and Jimin’s legs come to a stop. They’re both flushed and heaving, eyes still locked through the mirror.
There's a long silence. Hoseok's looking at Jimin like he wants to swallow Jimin whole and Jimin's toes are curling in his shoes.
Hoseok clears his throat and the moment's broken.
“Do you…” Hoseok begins, voice scratchy and eyes wide, “Do you feel better now?”
“Huh?”
“Your stress… is it better?”
Oh. Jimin’s high on endorphins and of course, of course he feels a ton better sweating in the empty room.
Feels like an ass, too, for all the shit he said earlier. He really is the worst.
Gratitude swells in the younger boy as he watches Hoseok getting smaller, unplugging his phone from the sound system.
Jimin rushes Hoseok, taking the older boy by surprise before attaching himself to the older boy like a koala. Hoseok’s shout is happy, arms coming up to squeeze Jimin back.
“You’re the best flatmate ever. I love you bro.” The words are mumbled against the side of Hoseok’s neck and they waddle together as a unit to the door.
Jimin feels the vibrations from Hoseok’s chuckles.
“I love you too, bro. But like, get off me. You stink.”
Jimin refuses, shaking his head and burrowing it deeper into Hoseok’s chest.
The waddle together like that, out the door and back to their home.
***
Two trainings later, Jimin finds himself at the centre of a lot of attention he thought he’d never get. Buttons by the Pussycat Dolls plays from the sound system, saccharine sweet and seductive. He’’s spiral rolling to the floor and then flipping over onto his stomach, calves up and toes pointed.
Jimin’s staring straight at the mirror, smirk on his face as he watches himself, watches how he slides and sashays across the cleared space. He’s tuned out the cheering and it’s all background noise now- motivating and only slightly distracting. Nowhere near as distracting, though, as Hoseok who stands closeby, arms crossed with a slight smile on his face.
That same rush of affection he’d felt that night when they were alone in the basement returns full force and Jimin can’t help breaking from choreo.
His walk towards the older boy is all hip and oh so slow.
Hoseok has plenty of time to catch onto what Jimin’s doing, to move, but the older boy remains where he is, uncrosses his arms and widens his smile.
Before he reaches Hoseok, however, someone pulls out a chair- is it Chungha? He doesn’t care- and pushes the older boy onto it.
Even better. Hoseok’s legs are spread invitingly and he’s looking up at Jimin expectantly. An arms length away, Jimin stops with his hips in line with Hoseok’s face. He rolls his head in time with the dip in the music, snapping back to circle his hips down, down dragging his hands down Hoseok’s thighs to come into a drop. Rocks forward on his heels to rise, hands inching up Hoseok’s body until he’s sitting in Hoseok’s lap, finally.
The cheering around the room is deafening but Jimin focusses on Hoseok’s eyes, wide and blown staring straight back at him.
Jimin’s hands snake around Hoseok’s back, possessive as he gets impossibly closer to nose along his neck for one second, two- and then he’s pushing off, grinding on thin air as he moves away from Hoseok’s warmth, so close but not quite there.
He sashays away, catching the way Hoseok slumps in his seat, eyes rolled back into head through the mirror.
***
“So now he doesn't hate you, you dont hate him, and you wanna fuck.”
"Not just me, Tae," Jimin hisses. "We. We want to fuck."
Taehyung waggles his eyebrows.
"Listen, you already know how fucking beautiful he is. He's driving me crazy, what the fuck. He keeps touching me when he knows how fucking attracted to him I am. When we were doing the dishes the other night he stood this close to me, this close-" Jimin gestures with his hands, putting them right next to each other, "- and kept cracking jokes like everything was okay! Holy shit! I was literally half- hard the whole time."
"How do you know he wants to fuck you?"
Jimin just stares at Taehyung. Spreads his hands.
"Okay," Taehyung concedes, "You're right. Then what's stopping you from living your best life? Fuck him! Fuck him good!"
"We're roommates." Jimin buries his head in his hands. 'Isn't it like, the universal law of roommates not to get involved."
"You're situation's already fucked up," Taehyung says cheerily biting into his muffin. "You already have feelings for him. I saw you two together that day when I came over to watch Brooklyn 99. Trust me. It's gonna happen. You're just expediting the process."
Jimin's brain breaks down once again at the thought of him and Hoseok together. "Big words from a small person," he mutters because he truly can't come up with another response.
"Small person?" Taehyung's getting in his face now. "Jiminnie, you know I'm a big person in every sense of the word. Heart. Brain... Dick."
"Ugh," Jimin gets out kicking his foot underneath the table. He lets Taehyung have it.
***
There's a tipping point, of course. The realisation comes in one of the most mundane situations possible: Jimin's out in his hoodie, sweatpants and dad sandals getting groceries for the next week. He's in the frozen section looking at ready to eat meals because what else would two busy struggling uni students eat when his attention shifts to the ice cream right opposite.
Hoseok likes ice cream.
But which ice cream? There's cookies and cream, an old classic, orange choc chip, vile and gross but maybe Hoseok likes it because Hoseok's weird like that sometimes, espresso, the mature option, and all the fruity ripples because it is pretty hot these days and fruit brings chill to the body.
He's been standing there for over half an hour when Hoseok's words echo through his head, from one of the first exchanges they'd had.
It doesn't really matter what flavour, Hoseok had said. If it's sweet, I'll eat it.
Jimin grins, picking up the butterscotch tub and heading to the checkout.
Later that night when Jimin's bringing the ice cream out to Hoseok on the couch, he feels it. Butterflies, so many of them flitting up and down his stomach. He wants Hoseok to enjoy, to be touched- and when he does, moaning,
"Delicious," Around his spoon and the butterflies still don't subside, that's when he knows.
He's got it bad.
***
It’s the last class of semester. There’s an undercurrent of tension in all of them tonight, not just Jimin and it makes itself obvious in the way the dancers fidget, flexing for the mirror, stretch the same muscles again and again to avoid sitting around.
His heart’s beating just as hard as the first selection, even harder if anything. He’s even more nervous despite Hoseok’s constant reassurances: this is his last chance to make it.
God, he really wants to make it.
Hoya stands with a piece of paper at the front of the room. Fuck.
A hand comes to rest on Jimin's vibrating knee. It's Taemin, a gentle anchor amidst all the inner turmoil.
"Relax," He murmurs and his voice is so familiar, so comforting that Jimin finds himself doing exactly that.
"Yeah," He sighs, taking deeper breaths. There are so many dancers in this room that deserve a spot. He wouldn't be mad at them if he wasn't selected, he thinks.
Disappointed, yeah. Soul- crushed, a little bit. But he had Hoseok, and they had their late night dance sessions and Jimin thinks that he can get by for another year just like that.
He's so deep in his own head that he's missed Hoya's opening speech. Jolts when he hears the first name being announced.
"Kwon Soonyoung."
Jimin grins, joins the cheer going up across the room. Kwon Hamster, he called himself. Crazy talented, impossible to dislike.
"Sarai."
Jimin's slow, heavy clapping matches the sinking of his heart.
"Park Jimin."
Everything fades out and the only sound in his head is a loop of his name being announced over and over again. No way. No fucking way. Taemin grabs Jimin's shoulders, shakes them while others clap his back. His newly made friends are cheering, one shouting,
"Chim Chiiiim!" Jimin blushes.
He's giddy with joy, so much so that he can't focus on what Hoya says next. Before he knows it Taemin's tugging him up and he's meeting the rest of the crew officially- it's not like they haven't talked before.
And Hoseok's standing there too, eyes shining and smile even bigger than Jimin's own. He reaches out and prises Jimin out of Taemin's hold, backhugs the younger boy while they listen to Hoya talk about commitment, practice times and competition season.
Hoseok leans down, his drawl quiet in Jimin's ears.
"Let's celebrate at home."
Jimin can think of quite a few ways to celebrate tonight, none of them appropriate.
"How?"
His question is whispered against Hoseok's neck and Jimin thinks the older boy's sharp intake of breath is wishful thinking.
"Surprise."
The rest of the meeting goes by excruciatingly slow.
***
"Home sweet home," Hoseok sings as the door swings open. It's usually cutthroat when they come back from practice, a race for the shower, but this time Hoseok holds Jimin physically back.
"Let me shower first tonight, yeah."
"What's the surprise," Jimin's whining into Hoseok's shoulder but the older boy remains unaffected.
"You'll find out soon," he calls from the bathroom, voice muffled as he removes his clothes.
The door shuts softly.
Jimin curses. The butterflies were back in full force and he finds himself on edge, unable to focus on anything until Hoseok comes out of the shower.
He punches his stomach, pouting as he tries to rid himself of that tingly feeling, that excitement. Hoseok had a surprise planned tonight. For him.
Was Hoseok thinking about him right now? In the shower? Does he feel the same way about Jimin even after all the assholery the younger boy's subjected him to?
The door to the bathroom swings open and Jimin parades in.
"Took you long enou-"
Hoseok hasn't finished drying off completely yet, beads of water running down his naked torso. His hair's been towel dried, face roughly patted down. His lips are so full and so dark and slightly parted in suprise.
Jimin's still staring, speechless, only jolted out of his trance by Hoseok's cocky words.
"See something you like?"
It hits a little too close to home and Jimin laughs a little too loud, bodily pushing Hoseok out of the bathroom.
"My turn," he manages to get out before closing the door and showering in record speed. the water's scalding but that's just the way he likes it, rinsing his hair, making sure to get his peach vanilla shower gel all over his body.
He wants to smell extra nice tonight.
Just in case.
The shower stream shuts off and Jimin hops out, staring at himself in the mirror as he pats himself down. He's psyching himself up- for what, he doesn't know. Hoseok's still such an enigma after all these months and the more time Jimin spends with him, the more he realises he doesn't know about the older boy.
He opens the bathroom door, steps out in just a bath robe and erupts into giggles.
Hoseok sits on the couch all shady- like, an unlit blunt and a lighter on the coffee table.
"Hey kid," He says, completely serious, "Wanna buy some weed?"
Jimin's whole body shakes, bending in half as he stumbles over, flopping down next to Hoseok on the couch. The Weeknd plays softly from Hoseok’s bluetooth speaker and he's pressed up against the older boy, impatient.
"Light it," He whines, petulant. "You've been teasing for too fucking long."
"Good things come to those that wait," Hoseok says and Jimin's about to smack him for acting so superior until he smoothly lights the blunt, placing it between his teeth before inhaling deep.
Jimin pauses before taking a hit.
“Need help?”
“I’ve smoked before, asshole,” His words have no bite to them as he lifts the blunt to his lips, inhaling deep and slow, holding it in his mouth.
There’s a tickle at the back of his throat and he wants to cough but he won’t, not in front of Hoseok.
“Good?” Hoseok’s eyes are so deep and open.
Jimin finds himself falling head first.
“Good,” he replies, voice hazier than intended. It feels surreal sitting here with Hoseok: there’s a ball of nervous energy in his core but he feels safe to say anything.
“Do you think I’m uptight?” He breathes.
Hoseok’s eyes are closed and he takes a while to reply.
“I did. But I kinda liked you anyways.”
“Even though I acted like such an asshole?”
“Yeah.” Hoseok opens his eyes. “I thought it was cute.”
“Did you think I was a dick? I ignored you for like, two months at the beginning.”
“Obviously, dude. Kinda liked you. Thought you were hot. But you ruined it.”
Hoseok turns to face Jimin, eyes appraising.
“I ruined it? For real?”
Jimin chooses not to reply, snatching the blunt from Hoseok’s hands instead. Takes another hit. Changes the subject.
“Show me cool things real stoners like you do.”
Hoseok chuckles.
“We’re all real stoners here,” his reply is murmured before a series of concentric rings are blown out one after another.
Pretty and fleeting.
Loose threads of a plan stitch themselves together in Jimin’s mind, not fully formed but taking vague shape.
“What else?”
The air is still and they both feel it; the tension, thick and heavy. Hoseok's hand has made it's way to Jimin's thigh at some point, and Jimin shifts so the hand creeps higher up.
Even in Jimin’s addled state of mind he sees Hoseok consider an idea, taking time before putting a voice to it.
“You ever heard of shotgunning?”
“Yeah…” Jimin breathes out. “Done it before.”
Hoseok lifts the blunt once more.
“Make a tunnel with your hands.”
Jimin complies, lifts his makeshift tunnel to his lips. Hoseok puts his lips to the other side, smoke warming Jimin’s hands as it travels from one boy to the other.
Jimin inhales.
It’s cloying, oh so sweet.
They relax back against the sofa, quiet for a couple minutes until Jimin pipes up.
“That’s not the kind of shotgunning I did.”
It’s brave and Jimin locks his jaw to avoid taking it back. Hoseok’s knowing stare sets him on fire.
He raises the blunt again, backwards this time so that the lit end is between his teeth. Hoseok’s eyes are glinting with mischief and Jimin knows he’s being played. He raises his lips to the other end in time for Hoseok to exhale sending another cloud of smoke straight into Jimin’s mouth.
This time when they sit back, Hoseok’s completely turned onto his side facing Jimin with a smile playing on his lips and a question in his eyes.
“Was that the kind of shotgunning you did?”
Jimin rolls his eyes. They both know the answer and he’s running out of patience. So he takes matters into his own hands, lifting off the couch to settle himself on Hoseok’s lap.
It’s warm here and so, so comfortable. He runs his hands down Hoseok’s chest, not missing the older boy’s bodily shudder, leaning down to whisper in his ear,
“No.”
Jimin takes the blunt himself, a deep long drag. Holds it, holds Hoseok’s burning gaze to lean forward and press his lips ever so gently to the older boy’s heart shaped ones.
Blows out slow and steady, feels Hoseok’s chest expand as he takes it like a champ.
Feels Hoseok’s hand flick the blunt out of his hands lazily, sending it towards the coffee table as he curls a hand over the back of Jimin’s neck bringing him closer, close enough to lock their lips together in the slowest, most toe- curling kiss Jimin’s had in his life.
The both shudder into it, Hoseok fisting a hand into Jimin’s hair before deepening the kiss, heat pooling in Jimin’s stomach with each slide of their tongues.
Hoseok’s hands make their way to Jimin’s ass pushing the robe away to meet satin boxers, kneading and pinching roughly. Jimin starts grinding his hips down, swallowing Hoseok’s low groans one by one.
“It’s just how I imagined,”
“What,”
Their voices are low and ragged, out of breath.
“The noises you make.”
Hoseok’s hands come up to stroke Jimin’s jaw, the side of his neck.
“I can make better ones. If you let me fuck you.”
Jimin’s staring into Hoseok’s eyes and it’s obscene, what he just said but his eyes are still so kind, so warm and The Weeknd’s still crooning in the background and it’s taking him too long to answer-”
“Hey. Hey, Jiminie.” Hoseok holds Jimin’s chin gently, turns it towards him. “This is good. Better than good. This is heaven, Jiminie. We don’t have to do anything-”
“l like you.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen but he continues rubbing circles on Jimin’s back.
Holy shit, holy shit, this is so embarrassing, fuck fuck
“Fuck fuck fuck, jus’ ignore that holy shit I’m sorry-”
Hoseok shuts him up with a kiss, sweet and short this time.
“Jiminie,” He breaks it with a smile, “It's okay I like you too.”
He keeps pecking Jimin’s lips.
“A lot. Too much, maybe.”
This time, it’s Jimin that deepens the kiss, smiling into it with renewed passion.
“Me too,” He says, brushing the roof of Hoseok’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.
“Me too,” Hoseok replies, cheeky, before sucking on Jimin’s tongue super gently.
“Hoseok,” Jimin pants after a while, erection straining against the front of his boxers. “I need…”
Hoseok brings Jimin’s hand to his own cock, hard underneath pyjama bottoms.
“What do you need, baby?”
“I need.... I need…you,”
Hoseok lick a fat stripe up Jimin’s neck, suckling on the sensitive spot at the bottom of his throat.
“Need me in what way, Jiminie? In a ‘let’s hang out and share our deepest hopes and dreams with each other’ way or in a ‘let’s fuck’ way?”
Jimin moans, head still thrown back to let Hoseok bite down his throat.
“Let’s. Fuck.”
Hoseok laughs against Jimin’s skin, the vibrations giving the younger boy goosebumps.
“You top, usually, don’t you?”
“Usually,” Jimin’s reply comes as a whine, keening to get Hoseok’s lips back on his body.
“Do you trust me? No pressure but I’ll make it so, so good for you. I promise, baby.”
On another day, Jimin would’ve laughed at Hoseok, made a dig about overconfidence but right now Jimin is desperate and right now Hoseok is hot.
“I don’t care,” Jimin moans, pulling Hoseok off the couch and towards his bedroom by the hand. He pushes Hoseok onto the bed crawling up all over him to reattach their mouths, licking wet and hot while the rest of their clothing is ripped off.
“Where,” Jimin breathes, and Hoseok flips them around reaching around in his dresser with one hand.
He’s kneeling and he looks so, so pretty, his cock pink and leaking and just perfect.
Jimin’s salivating. It’s all he’d hoped for and more.
And then he’s back, warming up the lube and pushing in super slow, whispering filthy words into Jimin’s ears.
“Remember when you gave me that lap dance?”
Jimin’s barely able to nod.
“I wanted to flip you over right there and then, rip those booty shorts off and fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone dance, for the next week.”
Jimin’s only able to moan, long and loud arching his back to get closer.
“I wanted to push you up against the mirrors, hold your neck and fuck you against the glass naked so you could see yourself take it so good, take my cock and love it.”
Jimin almost screams at the three fingers in his ass massaging his prostate in a quick rhythm, whining at the loss when Hoseok pulls them out.
“Empty…” It’s a plea, soothed by Hoseok’s hands stroking Jimin’s sides so good, pushing Jimin’s calves up against his thighs.
“Ready?”
“Yesss,” Jimin’s hiss is prolonged as Hoseok pushes in stretching him so good and right, completely bottoming out, resting there for a moment.
When Hoseok pulls out the next time, he slams back in, jolting Jimin’s body and shaking the bed. Jimin whimpers, hands curling into the sheets as Hoseok’s roam his upper thighs. Hoseok’s thrusts are rough, finding Jimin’s prostate and slamming into it with impressive efficiency.
Their skin slaps a steady rhythm and Jimin’s cries block out the music still playing out in the hall.
“Babe, babe, Hoseok, Hoseok,” Jimin’s getting closer, more desperate, frustration growing tenfold when Hoseok’s hand forms a fist around his cock, preventing his orgasm.
“Wait for me, baby. Let’s come together, yeah?”
“I wanna come now,” Jimin’s petulant, needy.
“No,” Hoseok says and Jimin screams at a particularly hard thrust. “Dancer’s have amazing stamina, didn’t you know?”
It's all just too much for Jimin. Being pounded into so good, Hoseok’s hand tangling in his, hips jerking with every brush of Hoseok’s cock against his prostate.
Hoseok leaning forward to attach their mouths together, being stretched so well.
He's whimpering into Hoseok's mouth, incoherent around the older boy's tongue.
Hoseok's hips don't fall out of rhythm, not even once, not even as his groans get louder signalling how close he is.
“Jiminie, baby, hey. Come for me now, ’s a good boy, let it go,”
He lets go finally, chases his orgasm till it fades out, feels Hoseok shudder and find his own release at the same time, clenching and unclenching his asshole to milk Hoseok’s cock.
They break apart, breathing heavy for a couple moments before Hoseok gets up to throw the condom away and come back with towels, cleaning them both with gentle hands.
It’s a cuddle fest in the middle of the bed arms thrown over each other, legs entangled despite the remaining sweat.
It’s silent for a long time and Jimin’s not sure if Hoseok’s asleep when he says,
“Sweet stroke game, bro.”
Hoseok’s laugh is smug, self- satisfied.
“I told you so.”
Jimin punches Hoseok’s arm lightly.
“So you’re one of those, huh?”
Hoseok only pulls him closer in the darkness, tracing meaningless patterns in Jimin’s upper arm. Kisses Jimin’s forehead ever so gently.
“Congratulations, Jiminie.”
Jimin smiles, eyes drifting shut.
"Thank you, Hoseok. For everything. Goodnight.”
It takes a while for Hoseok to reply, so long that Jimin think’s the older boy’s finally drifted off to sleep.
Until his voice breaks the silence, distant.
“Goodnight, baby.”