Chapter Text
“Nervous, Yoongi?”
Yoongi started, turning to his left where Taehyung was sitting. “Why would I be?” he said. His voice came out sharper than he meant.
Namjoon, sitting on Yoongi’s right, leaned forward to look at him, but it was Seokjin, sitting on Namjoon’s other side, who spoke up and said, “You tell us. You seem tense.”
“Jimin is gonna do fine,” Namjoon added.
“I know that,” Yoongi said shortly, leaning back in the auditorium seat and directing his gaze back towards the stage, just a few rows away from where their group was sat.
Bobby was sitting on Taehyung’s left, and he too, leaned forward to glance at Yoongi. “Then why do you look constipated?”
Yoongi reminded himself that the best spot to watch Jimin dance was right here, in the middle of these so-called friends. He remembered Jimin pressing the ticket into his hand, eyes earnest as he said, “Sit here, so I can see you, hyung.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be watching you?” Yoongi had said, taking the ticket from Jimin.
Jimin smiled at him, demure, despite his next words. “It’s a good seat for both of us. You will be.”
“He doesn’t look constipated,” Taehyung mused, making it hard to ignore them all. “Very focused. What are you focused on, Yoongi-hyung?”
“You’re right, Taehyung,” Bobby said. “Kind of like he does when he’s finishing a song.”
Yoongi felt his eyebrow twitch, and he kept his gaze resolutely faced forward. “M’trying not to focus on how irritating you all are.”
Taehyung leaned over the little plastic chair arm separating them, disregarding it and throwing an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder to hug him from the side. “Very cute, Yoongi-hyung, I almost believe you.”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi grumbled. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “How’s Jungkook?”
“Irritatingly confident,” Taehyung said with a grin towards the stage. He bounced his leg. “He’s the first freshman to be allowed to do this showcase, and you wanna know what emoji he texted me when he found out?”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
“The crazy one, with it’s tongue out, you know?” Taehyung imitated the expression, squinting one eye half shut and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth.
Bobby glanced at Taehyung. “I think it’s more like this?” he said, then proceeded to do the exact same expression.
“You are both wrong,” Seokjin said, leaning across Namjoon’s lap. He widened both his eyes and stuck out his tongue farther than Yoongi thought was humanly possible. “C’mon, handsome, y’too,” Seokjin said, voice garbled as he nudged Namjoon.
“You guys are humiliating,” Yoongi said, voice flat even as Namjoon smiled, fond.
“C’mon, Yoongi-hyung, do it, do it too,” Taehyung urged, poking Yoongi in the ribs.
“I—” Yoongi started, abruptly straightening when the lights overhead began to dim.
“Quiet, all of you,” Seokjin said.
Taehyung gave Yoongi one last poke, although this one was a lot more gentle. “The flowers are nice,” he whispered, nodding down at the bouquet resting by Yoongi’s feet. He leaned closer. “What was on the note?”
Yoongi looked at Taehyung. His expression was surprisingly shrewd.
“Saw you pull it out of the bouquet,” he mumbled, barely audible over the crowd’s initial applause as the lights continued to darken. Yoongi didn’t say anything, but he could feel the fold of paper in his pocket.
Taehyung touched his arm, just for a moment, then said with a surprising softness, “it’s gonna be great,” before settling back in his chair.
Yoongi glanced at Taehyung, who offered him a small smile before the room went dark completely, in that brief moment before the lights on stage turned on, spotlight focusing on the director of the dance program. His introduction was brief, thanking everyone for coming and commending all the hard work the students back stage had put into preparation for this showcase.
Yoongi knew that to be true, firsthand. Hoseok, for one, who had had a heavy hand into organizing the entire showcase this spring, had spent the last month speaking of nothing but this. The showcase was something the performing arts department put on twice a year, at the end of every fall and spring semester, for any students connected to the dance program. It was a big deal, in that it usually counted heavily towards dance major’s grades, always had talent scouts from large companies in the crowd, and special in the sense that each performance was developed completely by the student.
It was Jimin’s first time in the showcase, and he had chosen to choreograph their song from music theory, the one they’d finished nearly five months prior.
Yoongi had only seen bits and pieces of the choreo, little movements as Jimin bounced around in his apartment when he thought Yoongi wasn’t looking, immediately stopping when he realized Yoongi was, because he wanted it to be a proper surprise.
The past week leading up to tonight had been a lot. He and Jimin had barely seen each other, Jimin practicing every night in the studio, assuring Yoongi he was taking care of himself but he wanted this to be perfect.
Yoongi didn’t want to add any pressure to Jimin, but he already knew it would be, because it was Jimin.
“Got a couple good surprises in store for you tonight,” the director said. “These guys really gave it their all, went way beyond just putting together a simple dance routine. Please give them a warm welcome, and without further ado, let’s start!”
“Jungkook is first,” Taehyung mumbled, so quietly that Yoongi nearly missed it, had a feeling Taehyung wasn’t really saying it to be heard anyway. Yoongi shifted in his seat, settling more comfortably in the cushion as the lights on the stage shifted to a deep, royal blue.
Taehyung put his hand down right on top of Yoongi’s arm and squeezed, and when the spotlight illuminated Jungkook where he crouched centerstage, and he grinned, all cute and smug and playful, Taehyung squirmed a bit in his seat. Yoongi didn’t hold his hand back or anything, but he let him be, with his fingers pressing firmly against Yoongi’s forearm.
-
Jungkook was fantastic. Yoongi honestly thought Taehyung was in danger of melting in his seat, his grip around Yoongi’s arm steadily tightening as the performance went on.
“Wow,” Namjoon even said, when Jungkook did something very slick with his feet, hips rolling and body lowering fluidly towards the ground and then back up again, all in the span of a few seconds. Yoongi could see why he was allowed to showcase, could see the kid was insanely talented.
He did look at Taehyung towards the end, and allowed himself a small smile when he saw how widely Taehyung was beaming up at the stage. He really was, eyes alight and grin bright, and it was impossible to not be affected by it.
When it was over, Taehyung directed his happy expression right onto Yoongi, and he felt his lips twitch a little wider.
“He’s really good,” Yoongi said in the lull between performers, nudging his arm a bit under Taehyung’s and offering another smile when Taehyung sheepishly took his hand away. “Like, damn.”
Taehyung laughed down at his lap. “I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll be ecstatic.”
Yoongi was skeptical. “Really?”
Taehyung looked back up at him. “He really thinks you’re cool.”
“Poor kid,” Yoongi said, but Taehyung didn’t have a chance to respond, the music for the next performance cutting him off, so he just nudged Yoongi and leaned against his shoulder a bit more comfortably.
Their school was known for its music and dance programs, so Yoongi wasn’t surprised by how good everyone was, but he was definitely still impressed. He recognized a few people, faces that had been in some of his classes before.
Everyone’s performance had something special about it, whether it be the style they danced in, the lighting choices, their costume, their way of moving period, or in Hoseok and Lisa’s case, the fact that they were doing choreography intended for one person but made it seem like it had been prepared, originally, for two. Yoongi was so floored by their performance, how well Hoseok moved off of Lisa and vice versa, that he only really stopped thinking about it four people later, and even then, Taehyung was still cooing about the fact that they’d kissed on stage at the end.
Jimin was not the last person to perform, actually had about six people come after him, but Yoongi couldn’t have recounted a single thing about their performance even if his life depended on it.
When Jimin came on stage, it was quiet, and he was glowing, hair soft and blonde, shirt wide necked and silky, already slipping dangerously around his shoulders. It took Yoongi about two seconds to notice the mic hovering by Jimin’s jaw. Yoongi shifted, and he could see Taehyung glance at him in his peripheral, but Yoongi certainly wasn’t about to look away from the stage as the music came on and Jimin’s head tilted into the amber tinted light.
There were a few seconds, as piano notes, pulsing and echoing loud in the auditorium, built to the first verse of the song, where Jimin shifted his head, eyes heavy lidded. He was looking out across the audience and, almost immediately, met Yoongi’s gaze.
Yoongi hadn’t seen Jimin in the last couple days, what with exams and last minute preparations for this performance, and yeah, holy shit.
He looked fucking unreal, dark tight pants, smoky eyed make up, and Yoongi realized with a pleasant hum in his blood, that he’d missed him, and it was so good to see how devastating he was up on that stage. And, Yoongi was sure as fuck biased, but he didn’t imagine Taehyung’s happy little noise, or Namjoon shifting in his seat and saying, “Wow,” again.
Yoongi could echo both sentiments, heartily.
Yoongi found himself leaning forward, almost unconsciously, only noticing when Taehyung moved his hand off the armrest between them so Yoongi could prop his elbow on it.
The beat dropped, went quiet. Jimin started to move, and he started to sing.
He wasn’t the first person that night, to sing with their routine. But Yoongi honestly forget about anyone who came before him, including Jungkook, and Hoseok, and Lisa. He understood why Jimin, who didn’t really blink twice before dancing in front of hundreds of people, had been so nervous leading up to tonight, because not only was Jimin dancing to the song they had made together, the first time he had choreographed a routine all on his own, but he was singing to it, too—in front of Yoongi, and their friends, and the few hundred other people packed into the auditorium, some of which could have a heavy impact on his future.
But Yoongi had been right, when he’d told Jimin he had nothing to be worried about. Although Yoongi knew Jimin was nervous, had heard the high pitched, brief tremor in his voice when Yoongi had called him a few hours before the show, any trace of that was gone now. His movements were sharp, and his voice was sure, something that hadn’t been always true they’d first met.
When he’d just started to sing, outside the comfort of a private room, he’d been a little shy, a little unsure, despite how lovely it (he) was. The shyness, the uncertainty was gone. He pushed through the occasional wavers in his voice, turned a sultry smiled out at the audience like he knew something they didn’t. He did this, all while keeping the lines of his body fluid, and controlled
Yoongi shifted further forward in his seat, fingers drifting over his mouth as he looked up at him.
Jimin had been right, too. It was a good seat. Yoongi could see the shimmer of make up around his eyes, along his cheeks and the sheen of sweat beading along Jimin’s neck, appreciate the way the silk of his shirt reflected the golden tinge of the spotlights. And that was just the surface, could hardly hold a candle to the way Jimin was moving. Precision, in every curve of his body, from the way he arched his neck, stretched out his hands, and pointed his toes. When his shoulders jerked, then rolled to follow the line of his arms, his shirt slid across his collarbones. When he crouched, or swung out his leg, the muscles in his leg flexed and rippled, clearly defined.
Yoongi had seen Jimin dance, plenty of times, but not like this, not in such a professional setting, and where the movements were all him, the music was his, the voice, was his, ringing out loud over the backing track, the track that he and Yoongi had made together.
And Jimin had barely looked away from Yoongi from the moment he’d started moving.
Maybe it was selfish, or delusional, but Yoongi felt like they were in only two people in the room. And not even in the sense that Jimin was singing to him, or dancing for him. Everything Jimin was doing, the way he pivoted, arched his back, crooned the words to the song, it wasn’t for anyone, but was simply because Jimin loved it. Yoongi could see that, he could feel it, in every quiver of Jimin’s muscles, the smooth honey wash of his voice.
He imagined everyone else could feel it, too, but Yoongi, still, didn’t see or remember anyone else. And the way Jimin was looking at Yoongi, seeing Yoongi, sitting a few rows back from the stage, Yoongi imagined Jimin didn’t really notice them, either. All those people, all those eyes, everyone’s attention, focused solely on Jimin, but Jimin was looking at Yoongi.
When the last notes played out, in the moments where the lights shining on Jimin dimmed, he broke character, the sultry, half lidded set of his eyes giving way to cute slits as he grinned, smile splitting his face even as his chest heaved. He was still looking at Yoongi when the stage went dark and the audience burst into applause.
-
The lobby was packed with people after the showcase was over, family and friends waiting for the performers. Yoongi and everyone else opted to wait just outside the building. The sun had set a couple hours earlier, the approaching summer months bringing a pleasant warmth to the evening breeze that ruffled the plastic surrounding the flowers Yoongi was holding in his hand.
“I can’t believe you got flowers,” Seokjin said, leaning heavily against Namjoon, who was frowning down at his phone.
“Sunflowers for his sunflower,” Taehyung sighed, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist. He wiggled a bit. “All I got for Jungkook is my dick.”
“Okay, you get off me,” Yoongi said, shaking Taehyung off. “Jesus.”
Taehyung pouted, reaching out to rub one of the sunflowers’ yellow petals between his fingers. “They’re pretty, Yoongi-hyung. Jimin is gonna—”
“Hyung!” Yoongi heard, and next thing he knew was a firm, warm body pressing hard against his, the sharp floral of orange blossoms tickling his nose.
“Pumpkin,” Yoongi breathed, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s back and squeezing him back hard enough to briefly lift his feet from the ground. The sunflowers crinkled in the plastic, pressing against the younger boy’s back. “Jimin, hey.”
“Oh my god, you guys were so good!” Yoongi heard Bobby shout in greeting, heard Lisa laugh a thank you, Jungkook say something in reply to Namjoon’s compliment, Hoseok giggle when Seokjin made a bad joke, but all he really cared about in that moment was Jimin’s lips brushing his ear as he hummed happily.
“You liked it, was it good?” Jimin said, not stepping away when his feet were back on the ground, in fact, moved a bit closer, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck. He still had a face full of makeup, but had changed into something more casual, track pants and a T-shirt that small enough to show sliver of his stomach.
Yoongi pressed the sunflowers into Jimin’s chest until he grabbed it, using the freedom of both his hands to cup Jimin’s face. “You were so good. Jimin, you—”
“Yoongi-hyung was close to tears,” Taehyung announced from his spot atop Jungkook’s back. “Jiminie, you were so good,” he added, Jungkook beaming underneath him and easily bearing the brunt of Taehyung weight. Jungkook angled his head back, seeking a kiss, that Taehyung provided with a giggle. It was cute. They were gross.
Yoongi couldn’t really talk.
“Oh, really?” Jimin hummed, nosing Yoongi’s nose and laughing when Yoongi tsked, spinning him around so he could prop his head on Jimin’s shoulder and link his hands around his waist.
“Jimin, you were fantastic,” Namjoon said seriously.
“We get it, hm?” Jungkook crowed. “Let’s compliment each other somewhere more fun.”
“Steam?” Hoseok said, rubbing his hands together.
“Yeah, who doesn’t love intense cardio followed up by suffocating the lungs with pollution,” Seokjin said.
“It’s hookah,” said Bobby.
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Namjoon put in, and Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“You were sitting the whole time,” Jungkook said, then added, as an afterthought, “hyung.”
“Don’t worry, oppa, Rosé has moved on,” Lisa said from beside Hoseok, clapping her hands together and grinning when Seokjin sputtered for a rebuttal. Lisa beamed in his and Namjoon’s direction. “She thinks Bobby is the cute one now.”
“I’m the cute one,” Seokjin said, sounding thoroughly insulted while Bobby made a weird, choked noise that he tried to play off by clearing his throat.
“You are,” Namjoon agreed easily. “You can tell her when we get there. Meet at—” Namjoon looked down at his watch. “Hm, ten?”
“Did you bring my helmet?” Jimin said, turning his head so Yoongi’s mouth, which had been brushing his neck, came closer to his lips. Yoongi took the opportunity to murmur his response against Jimin’s mouth.
“Always.”
Jimin smiled. “Let’s go.”
-
They split off a little bit after that, Bobby squeezing into Seokjin’s car with Namjoon while Hoseok, Lisa, Taehyung, and Jungkook hailed a cab.
“Bike’s in the lot across the street,” Yoongi said, glancing over at Jimin and catching him staring down at the bouquet of sunflowers with a smile on his face. “You like them?”
Jimin jerked his head up, cheeks blossoming pink. “I—yes, hyung. I can’t believe you got me flowers.”
Yoongi paused just before they stepped off the sidewalk into the lot, gently swinging Jimin around to face him. He leaned close, kissing Jimin slowly on the mouth.
Jimin sighed into it, lips curving against Yoongi’s, body molding similarly against Yoongi’s own, and Yoongi kissed Jimin until the smile faded and it was just warmth all against him, pillowy lips damp against Yoongi’s, body flushed as Jimin tugged him closer.
When Yoongi pulled back, Jimin’s eyes were still shut, his mouth dark and shining.
“Of course I did,” Yoongi said, running his fingers back through the blonde of Jimin’s hair. “Sunflower.”
Jimin’s eyes snapped open, and his mouth pursed. “C’mon.”
“Sunshine.”
“Hyung.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi said, and he secured his grip around Jimin’s hips and tugged him close as possible. “Jimin, you were amazing. You were so fucking good. I’m proud of you.” Jimin looked down, pink faced, but Yoongi kept going, spoke his next words against the top of Jimin’s head “You danced so well, and sang so well, shit. So beautiful. I’m going to buy the recording of that just so I can show you how great you were.”
“Oh my god, you—” Jimin blustered, batting without force at Yoongi’s chest. “Yoongi.” He peeked up at Yoongi. “Did you think I was gonna sing?”
“I really didn’t even think about it,” Yoongi said honestly. “I was expecting you to blow me away dancing, and then you—” Yoongi laughed, relaxing a bit against Jimin. “You did that, and then some. Shouldn’t have expected anything less.”
Jimin nestled his head a little bit into Yoongi’s neck. “Did I sound okay? Did you—like it? I know I fucked up the second chorus, and, um, didn’t sing every part I was—”
“Jimin, you were fucking beautiful,” Yoongi said. He held Jimin tighter, felt the paper bend in his pocket. “I- I’m—”
Jimin tilted his head back, looking up at Yoongi with wide open eyes. Waiting.
Yoongi felt the plastic from the sunflowers crinkling at his back, where Jimin held them. “Jimin…”
Jimin’s phone suddenly rang, and he blinked, glancing down towards his pocket. “Ah,” he said, digging for it and squinting at the screen. “It’s Jungkook, what—” Jimin huffed and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” Yoongi watched as a pinch formed between Jimin’s brows. “Um, no sorry we haven’t—” Jimin broke off, listening. He glanced towards the auditorium building. “Kook, everyone’s pretty much gone, how am I gonna get back in?” Jimin rolled his eyes towards Yoongi. “You really— yeah, yeah, okay.” Jimin hung up, lips flapping as he exhaled. “Jungkook left his fucking bag, which has fucking weed in it, he doesn’t want to leave it over the weekend.”
Yoongi laughed before he could hold it in. “Are you ser—wow.” Yoongi rubbed up and down Jimin’s back. “Yeah, okay. Let’s get it.”
“Please,” Jimin grumbled, striding back from where they’d come from.
The crowd from earlier had all but dispersed when they made it back to the building, and Yoongi was about to ask how they should get inside when the man who had introduced the showcase came out one of the glass entry doors.
“Ah, Jimin,” he said, eyes lighting on the two of them. “I got a message from Hoseok that Jeon Jungkook left his phone—?” Jimin smiled in response, steadfastly not meeting Yoongi’s eyes. “I’m just heading out but once you leave the doors will lock automatically behind you so just don’t—” the man’s gaze lingered on Yoongi. “—well, leave the place as you found it. I left the side entry door open, inside.”
Jimin’s smile was saccharine. “Oh, of course.” He followed the director’s doubtful look towards Yoongi. “Don’t worry sir, I’ll keep an eye on this one,” he added, still not meeting Yoongi’s eyes, but Yoongi saw his lip twitch.
Yoongi pursed his lips. “Oh, will you?”
“Yes, well,” the director said, focusing his attention back on Jimin. “Jimin— well done today. A couple scouts were asking about you.”
Jimin blinked, smile freezing in place. “Me?”
The director’s expression softened. “We’ll talk more next week. Really great job, though.”
He nodded at them and took his leave. Jimin chewed on his lip for a moment, looking after him as he walked away, then finally met Yoongi’s gaze.
“What’s that mean?” Jimin said with wide eyes.
Yoongi couldn’t help himself. He smiled, wrapping his hand around Jimin’s wrist. “That you’re amazing. C’mon.” He nodded into the lobby. “We’re telling Jungkook we can’t find it, and then smoking it ourselves, right?”
Jimin scolded Yoongi even as he laughed, dragging him inside behind him.
-
“Why do people look at me like I’m scary?” Yoongi asked as Jimin led him down a dark hallway off to the left of the entry room.
Jimin glanced back at him, looking amused. “I was scared of you, hyung.”
“Yeah, why? I’m not a hooligan. That guy looked at me like I was a hooligan.”
“A hooligan?” Jimin giggled, tugging Yoongi to the right, where there was a open door that led them, to Yoongi’s slight surprise, directly into the theatre; the stage was only a few feet from where they stood. “Yoongi, you zoomed around on your motorcycle with no helmet less than a year ago.”
“I didn’t zoom.”
“Let’s not start this argument,” Jimin said, tugging Yoongi harder than before as he marched towards the side of the stage, where a set of stairs hid behind a big curtain. “It’s probably the dark, ratty clothing. And the way you glare at everyone.”
“I look respectable tonight,” Yoongi pointed out, deciding not to dignify the word ratty with a response, and Jimin hummed appreciatively, turning when they cleared the last step to look Yoongi up and down. They were stood backstage behind the curtains and Jimin casually looped his arms around Yoongi’s neck. It was dark, just a few emergency lights dimly glowing by the exit doors, but Yoongi could see a small smile playing at Jimn’s lips. He added, “And I don’t glare, I’m just looking.”
“Glaring,” Jimin teased.
“Because everyone is very annoying.”
“Even me?” Jimin said, eyes widening comically.
“’Specially you,” Yoongi said, curving a hand around the back of Jimin’s neck and pulling him close to kiss.
Jimin breathed out a happy little laugh against Yoongi’s mouth. “Hyung,” he mumbled. “You don’t seem very annoyed.”
“I’m very annoyed,” Yoongi said, kissing Jimin a little deeper, liking the way Jimin’s lips parted against his. “Most annoyed I’ve ever been.”
Jimin squirmed when Yoongi kissed him below the jaw, shuffling away. It was hard to tell with the poor lighting, but his cheeks looked pink again. “Just wait, I know what Kook’s bag looks like,” Jimin said. He looked down at the bouquet of sunflowers in his other hand, then back at Yoongi, before holding them out, lower lip jutting out. “Can you—can you hold these?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said with a small smile. He took the stems in hand, glancing to this right through the wings. “I’m just gonna—” he pointed at the stage, vaguely, and Jimin grinned, waving him off.
“I’ll find the lights, it’s fucking dark,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and switching on the flashlight.
Yoongi let him go deeper in and he, in turn, walked the opposite direction, boots tapping lightly against the hard vinyl of the stage floor as he strode forward to center stage.
He stopped, pivoting on the spot, and took a few steps forward, eyes straining through the darkness. Even in the shadows, Yoongi could clearly make out the seat he’d been in not a couple hours before.
“Damn, sunflower,” he called, loud enough for Jimin to hear. “You really could see me, couldn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Jimin yelled back, his voice playful.
Yoongi smiled, rolling the flowers between his hands. He glanced down at the bursts of yellow, eyeing the empty plastic card holder sticking out from between a few petals. He looked towards the wings, but it was too dark to make out anything.
Yoongi put the bouquet down carefully at his feet, straightening and squinting around the stage thoughtfully. Imagined the crowd that had been watching Jimin. Remembered Jimin up on stage, how perfect he’d been, how he’d danced, how he’d sang.
Yoongi shifted, moving on stage as he did when he did his own music, almost unconsciously, still thinking about Jimin up on stage even as he muttered lines from his own songs.
There was a loud, echoing click and suddenly Yoongi was bathed in the same amber lighting Jimin had performed to. He looked at the wings and now, with the spotlight on, it was much easier to see Jimin standing there, a blue gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said with a smile.
Yoongi chuckled. “Come out here.”
Jimin's smile widened into a grin, and he dropped the bag on the floor about halfway across the stage. As he approached, he began to shift and move so he was more dancing than walking, and then, laughing a little, he began to sing. Yoongi was struck by how incredible Jimin was; how less than a year earlier, Jimin had never sung outside the privacy of his bathroom, and here he was, fresh from singing in front of hundreds of people and doing it again, enjoying it, and good at it, too.
“C’mon, hyung,” he said in between words as he levelled with Yoongi. He spun, leaned into Yoongi’s space. “You know how to freestyle, don’t you?”
“You little brat,” Yoongi said, without any malice.
“I’m gonna show you up,” Jimin teased before falling back into dancing, picking up the music a few lines from where he’d left off.
Yoongi didn’t doubt it. He didn’t care. It was so easy, to do this with Jimin. To move with him, make up half shitty freestyle lines on the spot as Jimin laughed while he danced around him, bouncing off Yoongi with ease. Jimin moved with as much intensity as he had on stage with an audience, although his limbs were a bit more relaxed, his singing interrupted often by a spout of giggles as Yoongi growled a line right into his neck, bore down on Jimin only for the younger boy to dance away, teasing, beautiful.
It was so easy, to be with Jimin.
Despite all of Jimin’s grace, he was bit of a klutz, more, Yoongi had noticed after nearly half a year of being with each other, in the sense that he underestimated how his body could move. Now, moving loosely and without a purpose, Yoongi wasn’t surprised when Jimin’s foot, swinging around in what would have been a spectacular kick, caught around Yoongi’s ankle and sent them sprawling onto the stage, narrowly avoiding the sunflowers.
Yoongi grunted, trying to soften the blow of landing smack on top of Jimin, but Jimin was laughing, body jerking under Yoongi as though he were trying to curl in on himself as he tended to do when he laughed, but couldn’t with Yoongi splayed on top of him.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi huffed, finding a foundation in pressing his palms against the stage and straightening a bit so he could look down at Jimin, who was still laughing.
“F-fine,” he managed, snorting around another giggle and tugging Yoongi right back down.
“Jesus,” Yoongi said, adjusting himself a little so his knee wasn’t digging into Jimin’s thigh. He settled, and waited for Jimin to do the same. He wasn’t in a rush, despite the fact that their friends were probably well into a coal at the hookah lounge by now, and were technically waiting for them.
It took Jimin a moment to collect himself, no longer laughing but still grinning wide up at the ceiling, arm thrown over his face. Yoongi watched him quietly, the golden beam from overhead glinting over Jimin’s skin prettily. It surrounded them both, a warm, glowing circle of light.
“That was fun,” Jimin finally said, breathless.
Yoongi’s hand trailed up Jimin’s side, slowly. “Yeah?”
Jimin let his arm flop back over his head and onto the stage. He squinted a bit against the spotlight shining above them, little stars of light catching in his eyelashes, before looking down at Yoongi, laying a little lower on top of his chest. “Yeah, hyung. I—” he paused, licking his lips, seeming suddenly unsure, but hopeful, excited. “I’d love to do that with you. You know, for real? Not even—not even perform, just do—do a song with you. Like we did for class but—but not for class. Just for us.”
Yoongi stared at Jimin. There was a heat pulsing under his skin, in his head, like little bolts of electricity shooting through his brain, making his skin tingle, his heart beat fast, and hard.
“You would?” he said, voice quiet.
Jimin’s teeth dug briefly into his lower lip. He was still breathing hard, but his eyes were more focused now. “I—of course I would, Yoongi-hyung.” He smiled, almost shy. “The song I did tonight, that’s our song, I wrote it with you, and that’s how I—how we—” Jimin broke off.
Yoongi’s breath felt hot, and it burned as it pushed up from his lungs and whooshed out from between parted lips. Jimin was staring at Yoongi too, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t possible for him to look so beautiful, with the amber glow from above, eyeliner from his stage makeup starting to smudge. Yoongi wanted to press his nose against the glimmer on his cheekbone, just to see if he was real.
Jimin’s lips were parted, his fingers tightening around Yoongi’s arm even as Yoongi lifted a hand, reaching for the sunflowers.
“Hyung, I…” Jimin breathed, eyes flickering to the side to follow Yoongi’s movement, watch as he pulled the folded paper out from the prongs of the plastic clip nestled between the flowers. “What’s that?”
“Something I was hiding,” Yoongi said, feeing his heart beat in his fingertips as he held the paper between them. He looked down at it, then held it towards Jimin. “Something for you.”
Jimin eyes went a little wide, and he sat up a bit, just enough to prop himself on an elbow as he took the paper from Yoongi. “Why were you hiding it? What is it?”
“You make me nervous,” Yoongi admitted, and Jimin made a soft sound, carefully unfolding the paper. “It’s a song,” Yoongi continued. “For you, pumpkin.”
Jimin’s lips parted. “You—you wrote me a song?”
“Yeah. For us,” Yoongi said quietly, finding a grip around Jimin’s sides and holding him like that as Jimin’s eyes flicked over the first lines. Yoongi had drawn the basic notes, written the lyrics, indicated which words were meant to be spoken, which were sung.
It was for them, but the feeling he’d put into it—the feeling that had grown from its home deep in his chest until it spread, bleeding through every note, every measure, every word.
Well. That was for Jimin.
Yoongi thought he could see the moment it clicked for Jimin, saw it in the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinked and looked up from the paper to Yoongi, in the bright flush in his cheeks, the press of his teeth into his lip as he ran a thumb over the song Yoongi had written for him, like the words that shivered on the edges of Yoongi’s tongue on so many nights before this one, were tangible on that paper. Yoongi thought—he thought he could see the same feelings glimmering in the shine of Jimin’s eyes when he looked at him now.
“Do you like it?” Yoongi asked, a little surprised at how calm his voice came out, thought with how hard his heart was beating it was sure to waver.
The paper crinkled a little in Jimin’s grip. He looked up at Yoongi, the apples of his cheek flushed with color.
“I love you,” Jimin whispered.
The tingling under Yoongi’s skin suddenly narrowed into one, searing explosion of heat, bursting deep in his chest. Akin to lightning striking a dam, there was suddenly fire pulsing through his blood, like electricity in water, rushing through every part of him as Jimin’s eyes lock on his, even as the color in his cheeks deepened.
“I love you,” Jimin said again, voice coming out high, in a rush. The paper slipped from between his fingers, and Jimin scrambled to catch it, only to gently place it beside the sunflowers. “Yoongi-hyung,” he said, urgent now, palm now on Yoongi’s heated cheek, “Yoongi, ha, I—love you—”
Then Jimin smiled, and there was so much packed into the bow of his lips, gentle and comforting and knowing—because Jimin knew what Yoongi was thinking, Yoongi knew he did, but Yoongi had never said it before, and Jimin hadn’t either.
But Jimin was saying it now, (“I love you, love you”) and his mouth was curving right against Yoongi’s as he kissed him and still smiled, arms hooking around the back of Yoongi’s neck and pulling him close, tangling their legs, pressing their chests together.
“I love you,” Jimin repeated, said it over and over like prayer in between kisses, lips searing across Yoongi’s jaw then back to his mouth. “I’m so—shit—in love with you, Yoongi—”
His voice was thick, raspy, and Yoongi surged forward to kiss Jimin back hard enough that he broke off, whimpering into Yoongi’s mouth and hooking a leg behind Yoongi’s to force their bodies closer, impossibly closer.
“Jimin,” Yoongi said. His head shifted, face buried in the crook of Jimin’s neck. “Jimin, you know I—” breath shuddered out of his lungs. “You know,” he tried again.
Jimin’s breath caught. Yoongi could feel it, in his throat, the tense shift of muscle, and he pressed his lips against it, eyelashes tickling Jimin’s skin.
“I know,” Jimin said, “so tell me.”
There were fingers in his hair, gently tugging, and Yoongi let himself be guided, lifted his head until his face was level with Jimin, lips barely tickling his jaw.
Yoongi let his eyes fall shut, for just a moment, as Jimin’s hand shifted out of his hair to cup his face again. He pressed into the touch, let himself fall into it for a moment before meeting Jimin’s eyes.
“Yoongi,” Jimin murmured, leaning forward so his lips moved against Yoongi’s when he spoke. “Yoongi.”
Instead of kissing Jimin again, Yoongi let the words finally come out of his mouth.
“I love you, too,” he said. Laughed a little as he said it, knocked his forehead against Jimin’s. His voice was raspy. “You know it, don’t you? You know that?”
Jimin tilted his head back, and he laughed too, grin splitting wide across his face, both hands still clutching Yoongi’s face. “I—I know.” He was breathing deeply, hands firm around Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi couldn’t look away from him. “I know, but I’ve still been—been so scared to say it. Even though I’ve said it before to other people—” Jimin bit his lip, and Yoongi made a small, reassuring nose, kissing the underside of Jimin’s jaw, silently urging him to continue. Jimin closed his eyes before he continued. “I’ve never felt it. Not like this, not like—like I mean it. Because I do, Yoongi, I mean it so much, and what’s—” Jimin lifted his head back up to press his forehead back against Yoongi’s. “It’s scary.”
Yoongi spoke lowly against Jimin’s skin. “You’re scared?”
“A little bit,” Jimin said, then, after a moment, of just looking up at Yoongi, his smile came back, eyes crinkling. “But also no.”
Yoongi shifted until he was properly straddling Jimin, then, slowly, pulled at his shoulders until Jimin sat up. Once Jimin was sitting, Yoongi properly in his lap, Yoongi wrapped his arms around him, tightening his knees around Jimin’s hips and hugging him close.
“What’d I tell you?” Yoongi said against Jimin’s temple. “You remember? That I wouldn’t hurt you? I won’t. I’d never.”
A small pause, then, “I know,” Jimin breathed.
Yoongi grinned, unable to stop himself, could feel his cheeks ache a bit with the force behind it, felt them warm underneath Jimin’s palms.
“I get it, you know?” Yoongi said, pushing his fingers through the strands at the nape of Jimin’s neck. “There were lots of times I told myself—there’s not a way. No way you could. Why would you love me?”
Jimin pressed his hands a little harder into Yoongi’s cheeks. “Hyung,” he whispered. “If not you then—who the fuck else?”
A laughed bubbled up Yoongi’s throat, and he ducked down again, kissing Jimin almost feverishly, swallowing up his laughter too, kissing until instead of giggles in between their mouths separating, it was soft gasps, quiet words, love, my love, I love you.
“What now?” Jimin mumbled against Yoongi’s mouth after a while. Yoongi had no idea how long they’d sat there kissing, and Jimin panted when Yoongi shifted in his lap, butt pressing down on his crotch. His hands settled around Yoongi’s hips, and Jimin guided his movements a little, looking up at Yoongi with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. “Yoongi. I love you.”
Yoongi kissed him again. “Few options,” he murmured, still rolling his hips against Jimin. “We go to Steam.”
Jimin sighed. “Wanna keep saying I love you.”
“Mhm,” Yoongi said. “You can. I can too.” He pressed his grin against the swell of Jimin’s cheek. “I love you. Everyone else can fuck off.”
Jimin laughed, delighted. “Okay. What’s the second option?”
Yoongi pressed their mouths together, murmured against Jimin’s lower lip, “We fuck. Now.”
Jimin’s breath hitched, and his laughter shifted into a giggle. “Right here? On stage?”
Yoongi smiled. “Mhm.”
“Fuck,” Jimin whispered.
“Or,” Yoongi said. “Take you home. Clean you up, get you nice and relaxed. Spread you open on my bed, let you ride my tongue. Tell you I love you some more.”
“Baby,” Jimin whined, rucking Yoongi hard over his lap. His cheeks flamed, and he looked up at Yoongi entreatingly. “I want—” he sighed, let Yoongi kiss him thoroughly before trying again. “Want you to fuck me now, n’if everyone’s still out, we can meet them—” Jimin grinned, playful. “And then when we get home wanna shower and then I want you—want you to ride me.”
Yoongi blinked, corner of his lip twitching. “You want all of it, pumpkin?”
“Yeah, I do,” Jimin whispered, and Yoongi was in no state of mind to refuse him.
“All right. Whatever you want,” Yoongi said, kissing Jimin’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his mouth. “Anything you want, love.”
Jimin visibly preened at the endearment, and then, it was like a flip switched and they suddenly couldn’t come together fast enough.
Jimin grabbed a knitted blanket from back stage, which didn’t provide much cushion, but was nice in that they didn’t have to rub against the scuffed, dirty stage floor. Jimin scrounged in Jungkook’s bag for condoms and lube, something Yoongi found mildly hilarious, more so when Jimin told him to stop laughing because he didn’t want to think about the fact that they were using Jungkook and Taehyung’s sex stuff.
The teasing didn’t last long. They moved with urgency. Yoongi was desperate to open Jimin up on his fingers, watch him come apart under the bask of the amber spotlight.
“Did you think about fucking me?” Jimin said up to him as he pulled off his pants, urged Yoongi to do the same. “When I was up here? Shirt too, take your shirt off.”
Yoongi swallowed a shiver when Jimin’s feet tickled Yoongi’s sides, pushing up under his shirt, which he was working quickly, but not quickly enough, to unbutton.
“I’m sure lots of people were,” Yoongi said, voice low and thick, noting how Jimin arched a little at the comment, a flush spreading down his neck. “You were so good, baby. Looked so good, did so good.” Yoongi leaned down, shrugging off his shirt and pushed Jimin’s up past his nipples. He kissed around the dark bud, teasing a finger between Jimin’s legs as he did.
“I like when you watch me,” Jimin whispered, spreading his legs a little wider and moaning when Yoongi pressed a finger in a firm circle around his rim before pushing slowly inside. “Y-you—oh, fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this on stage right now.”
Yoongi chuckled, pushing in to the knuckle as he began to leave searing kisses slowly up and down Jimin’s neck. “I think you like it.” He pressed his finger in harder, bit down a little on a spot just past Jimin’s jaw. Pulled the finger out, pushed back inside again, and sucked the same sliver of skin between his teeth. "I know you like it."
“H—hah—hyung—” Jimin gasped, rolling his hips. He was loud, voice carrying clear in the big empty space of the theatre. “More, more, please—”
“You sound so good,” Yoongi hissed, working his finger in and out a little more before carefully pushing in two. “Can you hear yourself? Wanna hear yourself?”
“Yoongi,” Jimin moaned. His legs were spread far as they could go, which for Jimin, was saying something. Writhing under Yoongi, with his shirt rucked up under his armpits and his hair askance, the pretty gold tint of light shining right down on them, he looked downright dreamlike.
Yoongi loved him so fucking much.
Two fingers deep, Yoongi began to wriggle them a bit, scissoring as much as he could, dragging near wails from Jimin’s mouth as he applied more pressure, worked his hand a little harder.
“Love you,” Yoongi said against Jimin’s cheek, his mouth, the sharp slope of his jaw. “You know that?”
Jimin let out a noise that sounded like a sob, and when Yoongi lifted his head to look, Jimin had both hands pressed over his face, neck arched up off the blanket as Yoongi twisted his finger. As Yoongi watched, Jimin made another desperate sound, and nodded up into his hands.
“You’re so good,” Yoongi said, pulling out his fingers and reaching for the lube, squeezing some directly over Jimin’s hole, hushing him when Jimin made another noise and twitched.
“Yoongi,” Jimin mumbled, whining when Yoongi gripped under his thighs and pushed, lifting his ass off the ground a little and aligning himself better.
“Can you stay like this?” Yoongi said, squeezing Jimin’s thighs before releasing them, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock and planting the other right next to Jimin’s head, slipping a little on the blanket. “Can you look at me, baby?”
Jimin panted, letting his hands fall away from his face and locking eyes with Yoongi right as he began to press inside.
“Oh, fuck,” Jimin choked, forehead wrinkling, and Yoongi’s inhale was so sharp it hurt. He pushed in a little deeper, and Jimin’s eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me,” Yoongi said again, and he waited for Jimin to open his eyes before rocking his hips forward, ducking down to muffle Jimin’s ensuing cry with his mouth.
Jimin kissed him back, sloppily, feet hooking around his waist, heels digging into Yoongi’s lower back. “Yoongi—a-ah—” Jimin threw his head back, and Yoongi panted. His knees ached, digging right through the blanket onto the hard floor underneath, and he was sure it was rubbing uncomfortably into Jimin’s shoulders, too, but it was almost inconsequential, at least right then. Yoongi was thrumming, from the thrill of fucking Jimin on a stage that not two hours earlier hundreds of people had been watching, the disbelief and simultaneous awe of how beautiful Jimin was, all bright and flushed and he was Yoongi’s, and Yoongi loved him.
And Jimin loved Yoongi.
“Kiss me,” Jimin gasped, and Yoongi gave in immediately.
He didn’t stop fucking Jimin, didn’t stop kissing him, open mouths, tongues wet, sloppy. Yoongi didn’t know if it was where they were fucking, how loud Jimin’s moans carried out into the open space, or just the fact that Yoongi loved him so goddamn much and was able to say it so easily, a flood of it (love you, love, I love you), but his orgasm was quick to rise to the surface. He didn’t try to warn Jimin when he felt his gut curl, imagined Jimin could tell, the quicker snap of his hips, the ragged “I love you so much” Yoongi panted against his mouth.
“Tell me again,” Jimin whispered.
That was when Yoongi came, hissing the words into Jimin’s skin, groaning when Jimin kissed him through it, worked his hips so Yoongi fucked in deeper, whispering in his trembling, high voice, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna too, Yoongi—” he wrapped his fingers around himself, jerking frantically. “Yoongi,” Jimin gasped, writhing, Yoongi still buried deep inside him.
“I love you,” Yoongi whispered, kissing Jimin hard when he came moments later, swallowing his whines, groaning lowly when Jimin rocked himself through it, clenching tight around him.
“Oh god,” Jimin sobbed, hips jerking, mouth half full of Yoongi’s tongue. He kissed Yoongi back, tear lines smeared by his temples, the area around his mouth slick with spit. He trembled, hand falling off himself, and Yoongi felt the moment he went boneless, sucking in a breath between his teeth as he slowly eased himself out of Jimin.
There was sweat dripping down the back of Yoongi’s neck, and Jimin had a sheen of it across his collarbones. For a few moments, they sat there, Yoongi lowered on his knees, Jimin’s legs splayed on either side of him, chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. There was cum splattered just under his chest, white leaking between cheeks.
Jimin broke eye contact with Yoongi, just to glance around the stage and auditorium as if to confirm that they’d just done that, in here. A nervous laugh bubbled out of his throat, and he met Yoongi’s eyes again. “We just—”
“I love you,” Yoongi said, and Jimin broke off, smiling wide and shy. He sat up, barely even wincing, just to bring himself closer to Yoongi and lean against his shoulder. Jimin hummed, eyelids drooping.
“I love you, too,” Jimin mumbled, turning his head, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, his collarbone, his neck.
Yoongi pulled him closer. Let Jimin continue to kiss along his neck, murmur against his skin, curve his body around Yoongi’s.
Yoongi let Jimin love him, and when Jimin’s mouth came to brush over his, Yoongi cupped Jimin’s face gently between his own hands, and steadily, he breathed out, and loved him in return.
JIMIN
Jimin didn’t think he would ever get tired of it.
Yoongi and he walked into Steam to a series of catcalls and cheers, primarily from Taehyung, Seokjin, Hoseok and Bobby, while Jungkook, Namjoon, and Lisa watched them create a ruckus, looking various levels of dryly amused; and Yoongi leaned in close so he could murmur against Jimin’s neck, “I love you,” and Jimin didn’t think he would ever get tired of it.
He kissed Yoongi before they walked forward again, bringing more noises from their friend group, and Yoongi was smirking when they finally did sit, Jimin nudging Taehyung over a bit so he and Yoongi could fill in the empty space at the end of the couch.
“The minute Jungkook called, I knew,” Hoseok said, while Lisa reached across him to offer Yoongi the hose. He pulled on it, looking unconcerned.
“Knew what, exactly?” he drawled on the exhale.
“That you were gonna fuck in the empty auditorium,” Taehyung said.
Someone behind them spoke, and Jimin jerked around to look up into Chanyeol’s grinning face. “They were making bets.”
“We weren’t betting,” Namjoon protested.
“Absolutely were,” Seokjin confirmed.
“Jiminie, I heard you did real good tonight,” Chanyeol said, reaching over to check on the goal. He grinned at Jimin. “You look cute.”
“Do you ever stop?” Yoongi said, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist and rolling his eyes.
Jimin grinned, leaning close to whisper into Yoongi’s neck, “love you.”
Yoongi’s small smile was enough to make Jimin think that he really wouldn’t ever get tired of it.
Would never get tired of loving Yoongi, and being loved by him.
-
They stayed for another hour before everyone decided to split off for real, Hoseok and Lisa opting to go out clubbing with Jungkook and Taehyung. Namjoon and Seokjin drove off together in Seokjin’s car, and when Yoongi and Jimin waved goodbye to Chanyeol behind the bar, Bobby was still standing by the make shift host stand, talking animatedly with Rosé.
“He’ll find a ride,” Yoongi said to Jimin as they walked through the door. “Always does.”
Jimin smiled at Yoongi, and Yoongi smiled back at him, a breeze lifting his dark hair briefly from his forehead.
Jimin felt so light, despite the pleasant little ache from all his hard work leading up to the showcase settling in his muscles, something a little more tender from getting fucked on the stage floor making his lower back twinge, but he sort of revelled in it, wanted to bury himself in Yoongi’s chest and never stop thinking about how much he—
Loved him.
Jimin loved Yoongi so much.
He held Yoongi tight around the waist, keeping one eye on the bouquet of sunflowers Yoongi had tucked protectively between his legs, checking three times throughout the motorcycle ride back to the apartment that the song paper was still in his pocket. The bike hummed underneath them, the plastic around the bouquet crinkled in the wind, and everything smelt like pine and Yoongi.
Jimin was happy. With his body pressed close to Yoongi, able to make whatever dopey expressions he felt like under the cover of the helmet and Yoongi concentrated on the road, Jimin was happy. He held Yoongi a little tighter on the turns, shouting for Yoongi to watch it even though he’d done this a thousand times, liking how he could feel the chuckle rumble through Yoongi’s chest when they accelerated.
They were quick to climb the stairs to Yoongi’s apartment when they arrived, and Jimin was quicker to shove Yoongi up against his front door before he was even finished closing it, swallowing Yoongi’s surprised laugh and pushing enough to force the door shut with a hard snap.
“We have all night,” Yoongi murmured.
“Longer than that,” Jimin replied, without thinking about it, feeling his cheeks burn when he peeked at Yoongi afterwards and saw Yoongi’s eyes were glinting as he looked right back at him.
Yoongi lifted up the sunflowers, a little bruised and missing a few petals, but still pretty, still filling Jimin up with such a bright feeling. He followed Yoongi into the kitchen, snickering when Yoongi ended up filling a soup pot with water and sticking the flowers in there.
“I’ve never needed a vase before,” he said, grabbing Jimin around the wrist and pulling him towards the bathroom. “S’long as you don’t want soup, it works out.”
“I’m getting you a vase,” Jimin said as Yoongi turned on the shower, turning and beckoning Jimin closer.
“Fine,” he said, pulling at the hems of Jimin’s shirt until he lifted his arms and Yoongi was able to pull it off.
“Might even put some flowers in it, if you’re nice,” Jimin added, Yoongi shooting him a wry look before ducking down to step out of his pants.
They moved slowly, the urgency from before faded to something softer, more tender. Yoongi coaxed Jimin into lazy kisses, waited until the water was nice and steaming before leading him inside.
He took care of Jimin. Rubbed soap all over his body, kneeled down to even rub underneath Jimin’s feet, press his fingers into the backs of Jimin’s calves, tickle in between his thighs.
“We’ll stay at a hotel one day,” Yoongi said quietly over the water. “Y’know, a place with a proper tub, maybe one with the jets? I’ll massage you in it, pumpkin.”
He pressed a kiss to the jut of Jimin’s hip bone, looking up through wet eyelashes to meet Jimin’s gaze.
“I love you,” Jimin said, wanting to cry at how easily the words came out, now that he’d said them, so glad he’d said it, so glad Yoongi loved him back.
“I love you, too,” Yoongi said, closing his eyes as he kissed along the water dripping down over Jimin’s abs.
Jimin closed his eyes too.
He let Yoongi take care of him for a little, let Yoongi turn him around and slather soap all up and down the back of his legs, massaging the swell of his thighs, all around his bottom, taking even more time to dig his fingers into Jimin’s back when he stood and washed across the skin there, too.
Then, it was Yoongi’s turn.
Jimin didn’t spend as much time washing him, because although Yoongi still didn’t appear to be in a rush, he had a clear goal in mind, one he made apparent when he reached forward to curl his fingers around Jimin’s cock and begin to touch him.
The air was steaming, and Jimin felt lazy and hot and content. He rubbed soap all over Yoongi’s skin, massaged shampoo deep in his scalp, kissed under Yoongi’s jaw as he did, giggling a little when he tasted soap and backing off to ensure the shampoo was completely washed out before coming back again.
“Bed,” Yoongi finally said, when the water began to lose its heat and Jimin started to nip with his teeth.
Barely dry, Jimin settled in the center of Yoongi’s bed on his back, tugging Yoongi on top of him. It was reminiscent of the way they’d been earlier, on the showcase stage, and Jimin was reminded of how beautiful Yoongi had looked, with the spotlight overhead directly behind his head, a fluorescent halo of gold, molten over the flyaway strands of his hair.
Now, there was a just a pretty blue glow from the nightlight Yoongi had flipped on, plus the candle he’d lit before climbing onto the bed with Jimin. Yoongi was sat a little higher on Jimin’s hips, eyes gleaming in the low light as Jimin pushed two, lube slicked fingers inside him.
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured, dipping down, brushing his lips over Jimin’s. His exhale was shallow. “Yeah, baby.”
Jimin didn’t say anything at first, worked slow, worked past the tight squeeze, tasting Yoongi’s breath when he gasped across Jimin’s lips.
“Is it okay?” Jimin whispered into the panting quiet.
“Always,” Yoongi said, and there wasn’t any teasing, any smiling, his voice throaty and raw, and Jimin wasn’t even inside him yet.
When Yoongi did finally murmur for Jimin to pull out, when he adjusted himself until Jimin’s cock pressed between his cheeks, leaning back and pressing until the tip pushed in, when he took Jimin inside him, he did so without rushing, let his head tilt back as he sank down, moving so slowly his thighs trembled under Jimin’s hands, and his breathing became ragged.
He was moving like he wanted to feel every part of Jimin, feel each burning stretch as he went lower and lower until his thighs were flush with Jimin’s skin.
“You look really—” Jimin was breathless, despite the fact that he wasn’t fucking moving, was just watching Yoongi sit on his dick, but Yoongi was looking up at him through his eyelashes, dark hair still half wet and chest half pink from the shower.
Jimin took a sharp breath, tried again. “You look really beautiful.”
Yoongi smiled at him, slowly as he was doing everything else, and then, even more slowly, he began to move.
He curled his big hands around Jimin’s shoulders and squeezed for leverage, low grunts puffing out of his mouth every time he bottomed out, inhaling when he lifted, and everything was tight and wet and Yoongi—
Yoongi was leaning forward, draping his body over Jimin’s chest now, saying with his low, rough voice right into Jimin’s ear,
“Jimin-ah, I love you.”
Jimin thought, not for the first time since he’d met Yoongi, since they’d gotten together, that this couldn’t be real. There was no way Yoongi was his, his Yoongi, his hyung. Jimin thought of Yoongi glowering at him from his seat in class almost a year prior, looked up at him now panting on top of Jimin, all bare and pale and so gorgeous it hurt. And it was real.
“Yours,” Jimin whispered up at him, tilted his head to kiss him, then, wrapping his arms around Yoongi and holding him tight, Jimin began to move with him.
He didn’t fuck hard, didn’t smack his butt or bite down on his neck like how he knew Yoongi liked, but Jimin fucked Yoongi deep how he liked, made sure to roll his hips up just as Yoongi moved back down, kissed him whenever his mouth could reach, and when Yoongi muttered, mine against his mouth, Jimin whispered back yours yours yours as they rocked together.
Yoongi came with a muffled moan against Jimin’s skin, clenching so tightly around Jimin that he only had to roll his hips a few more times before he himself gritted out, “coming.”
Yoongi wrapped his hand around Jimin’s throat and slammed his hips back down, hard, keeping Jimin in place as he came deep inside Yoongi, who ducked down to kiss him through it, murmur against his mouth, “that’s it baby, love you so much, that’s it my love.”
My love, Jimin thought, kissing Yoongi breathlessly. Mine.
-
They kissed for a long time before Yoongi finally mumbled something about cleaning up, telling Jimin he’d been back in a second.
He returned from the bathroom a couple minutes later, ran a warm towel over some of the cum from his orgasm that had smeared and dried on Jimin’s chest. Then, tossing the rag in some laundry specified corner of the bedroom, Yoongi climbed properly under the covers and wrapped his arms around Jimin’s waist, tugging him close until they were spooned, Yoongi’s foot squished between Jimin’s calves, facing each other.
Jimin looked at Yoongi for what felt like ages, but was probably only a couple minutes. He traced the cute bulb of Yoongi’s nose with his eyes, flicking over the pink, swollen pout of his lips, back over the feline angle of his eyes. Yoongi watched Jimin look at him, blinking slowly, but not sleepy. There was a brightness in his eyes that told Jimin he was still very much awake.
“You really love me?” Jimin said, and he wasn’t sure where the question came from, because he knew, and Yoongi knew he did, but it had taken so long to stop listening to that insecure little voice inside, second guessing everything, unsure of everything.
Yoongi shifted his head a little on the pillow, and he looked at Jimin, expression calm, almost unreadable. But there was still the spark in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his mouth.
“I really love you,” he said. His eyes were intent on Jimin’s face. “I could ask you the same question, though.”
“I really love you,” Jimin breathed. The words felt heavy, weighted with his feelings, no matter how many times he said it. He wasn’t sure if their weight would ever go away.
Yoongi was still watching him, and Jimin reached out, just to touch his face. “Did you—you really have moments when you thought I didn’t? Told yourself I didn’t?”
Yoongi exhaled slowly. “I told myself a lot of things.”
“Yeah?”
Yoongi pulled Jimin in, closing the gap between their mouths. They kissed for a while, long enough for Jimin to taste Yoongi on the back of his tongue, long enough that his eyes actually began to feel a bit heavy, but still neither of them fell asleep or pulled away.
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured finally. He thumbed at Jimin’s lip. “I’m sure you did, too. Told yourself I didn’t like you. Love you.” Yoongi kissed Jimin, even with his thumb on his mouth. “And I love you so much,” he added, softly.
Jimin was quiet, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, choked with it, Yoongi’s eyes heavy on him, his hand gentle on his face, the sheets around them warm and smelling like pine, and god oh god Jimin was in love.
“I knew,” Jimin said eventually, and Yoongi hummed, opening his eyes a little wider as Jimin continued. “Sometimes, it was easier—less scary—to tell myself you didn’t.”
Yoongi’s expression was gentle, almost teasing. “You’ve always been a bad liar.”
“If I’m bad, then you’re terrible,” Jimin said, grinning when Yoongi chuckled against his mouth.
He thought, there was plenty of time to tease Yoongi about how long he’d had that song written prior to tonight, how long he’d been lying to himself about not being good enough, enough for Jimin.
Of course he was enough for Jimin.
But there was plenty of time. And Jimin realized, Yoongi and him both knew better, deep down, especially when it came to each other.
Yoongi fingers were firm as they stroked down over Jimin’s cheek, under his chin.
He looked up at Jimin. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”
Jimin blushed under Yoongi’s gaze, and then Yoongi smiled—Jimin’s favorite smile, the first smile he’d seen on the older boy’s face months and months ago on top of his motorcycle. The kind where the corners of his mouth pulled over his gums and there was an incredulous gleam in his eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe he was laughing, but wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
Jimin loved him, and knew he was loved by him.
And better yet, when Jimin told himself this, I love him and he loves me—
It was the truth.