Chapter Text
Yoongi sleeps until lunch. Even from downstairs, Jimin hears his phone go off a few times, but when he slips into their room to grab his own work files around mid-morning, Yoongi’s still knocked out.
He finally wanders into the great room, still wearing fleece bottoms and a baggy sleep shirt, just as Jimin and halmeoni are sitting down to eat.
“Oh, my baby,” halmeoni says at the sight of him disheveled and with bags under his eyes. She makes grabby hands so Yoongi squats down beside her, letting her cup his face in her palms. Swiping wrinkled fingers under his eyes she says, “Look at you. You work too hard.”
Yoongi scrunches up his face in embarrassment but allows his grandmother to fret over him. After a moment of quietly assuaging her concerns, he glances around at the spread of food on the dining table and Jimin gets to his feet.
“Lunch?” he asks Yoongi.
“Yeah,” Yoongi replies with a nod, tacking on a “please,” at the last second.
Jimin is dismal in the kitchen but he knows how to scoop rice out of a cooker, at least. He fills a bowl for Yoongi, starting when he feels his husband come up behind him.
“Namjoon texted saying he sent Jung Hoseok the final R&D consolidation proposal for Daegu. Just needs your approval, now,” he says, accepting the rice when Jimin hands it over.
“Okay. He probably emailed it to me already. I’ll take a look.”
“No shop talk at mealtime,” halmeoni berates them.
“Sorry, halmeoni,” Jimin says, ducking his head.
They make their way quickly back to the table.
“Where are Jungkookie and Nurse Kim?” Yoongi asks. He takes a seat beside Jimin, immediately reaching for a piece of meat from the plate in the middle.
“They went Christmas shopping,” Jimin tells him.
“Already? It’s still November,” Yoongi says, shaking his head. He looks at Jimin with a quirked brow that disappears under his unruly black fringe. “You didn’t want to tag along?”
Jimin glances at halmeoni and shoots her a guilty grin as he says, “I had some work to catch up on.”
Halmeoni tuts. “You both work too hard. You’re billionaires, don’t you ever do anything just for fun?”
Fun is relative, Jimin wants to argue, but Yoongi beats him to it.
“Work is fun.” Yoongi grins at halmeoni around a mouthful of pork and something about the way his eyes light up makes Jimin miss his mouth with his chopsticks. “And besides, we need to work to keep all those billions.”
“Don’t you sass me, Min Yoongi,” halmeoni chides, raising her chopsticks at Yoongi in faux disapproval.
“Well, I did learn from the best.”
“Damn right you did,” says halmeoni, nodding sagely. With the air of a proud parent, she places a choice piece of meat on her grandson’s bowl of rice for his cleverness. “Speaking of fun, your anniversary is soon, isn’t it?”
Yoongi freezes, chopsticks laden with rice and meat raised halfway to his mouth. He looks at Jimin with wide eyes as if asking It is?. About three seconds pass before halmeoni huffs.
“Don’t tell me you forgot?” she asks.
Jimin thinks, rather, that Yoongi probably doesn’t know it at all. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know the exact date, either, just that it was sometime in December. If he had his phone he could Google it. Caught, they look helplessly at halmeoni and she frowns.
“Not a romantic bone in your entire body,” she grumbles, swatting Yoongi’s hand when he reaches for more pork.
“We don’t really keep track of dates,” Jimin tries to explain. “Not that we have many to keep track of, but…”
“Then, what do you celebrate?”
Yoongi looks like he’s at a total loss, his sleepy eyes suddenly wide as he glances from Jimin to his grandmother. What is there to be said, really? He can’t very well admit to only seeing Jimin every few weeks, can’t fess up to the fact that they live in different apartments and only speak when necessary. Remembering something as meaningless to them as their wedding anniversary requires a kind of commitment that neither of them has ever bothered to cultivate.
Fortunately, he’s saved from answering the question by the sound of voices in the foyer.
“Okay but then when, Jungkook-ah? You’re leaving in a week and Taehyung will be here on Thursday. I’d like you to meet him before you go.”
Yoongi and Jimin spin around to look just as an agitated Seokjin ambles into the great room, Jungkook on his heels.
“I just—a party seems…” Jungkook trails off, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.
“What’s all the hubbub?” halmeoni pipes up.
As if just realizing they’re not alone, Jungkook looks toward the dining table and his eyes grow round. Seokjin is less perturbed by the presence of the Mins, huffing out a sigh as he flings an armful of shopping bags over the back of the couch. He approaches the kitchen and begins to poke around the cabinets.
“Nana, your grandson brought me home without feeding me. Is there enough food for one more?”
“Min Jungkook!” halmeoni turns sharp eyes on Jungkook who winces. “I raised you better than that.”
“To be fair, I told him we could find a place to eat but he was too mad,” Jungkook explains.
“What did you do?” halmeoni asks. She looks to Seokjin, waving him over to sit down. “There’s plenty to go around, Jin-ah, come sit.”
Instead of joining them at the table as Seokjin does, Jungkook evades his grandmother’s glare by flopping down on the couch with the shopping bags. “I didn’t do anything, halmeoni,” he grumbles.
It’s unlike Jungkook to behave so standoffish.
Jimin looks from Yoongi to his brother-in-law, wondering whether he should intervene. Uselessly, Yoongi shrugs.
“Doryeon-nim…” Jimin starts. He doesn’t get the chance to eke out any further words as Seokjin rounds on Jungkook himself.
“Is it so wrong for me to want you to meet my brother?” he asks.
Jungkook peers over the back of the couch at him with a frown. “Meeting Taehyung-ssi isn’t the problem and you know it, hyung.”
Seokjin huffs out a sigh, folding his arms across his chest as a pout curves over his lips. He looks genuinely upset, which Jimin didn’t think was possible so Jungkook must have crossed some kind of line.
“Jungkook-ah.” Jimin’s gaze slides toward Yoongi, who’d been the one to speak, surprised at the level of reprimand in his tone.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whines.
Feeling as if he’s missed something, Jimin glances between the brothers in confusion. Yoongi doesn’t usually get mad about things, as far as Jimin can tell.
Jungkook’s shoulders slump after a moment and he explains, “Seokjin hyung wants to throw me a going away party this weekend at his family’s restaurant.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely!” halmeoni says, patting a still-pouting Seokjin’s hand.
“Jungkook doesn’t want it,” Seokjin replies flatly.
“I don’t want you to waste money on me,” Jungkook argues. They can only see the back of his head from the dining table but Jimin can still imagine the deep frown he’s undoubtedly wearing.
“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Seokjin replies stubbornly. He drops his voice, softening his tone as he adds, “And it would make me happy.”
Jungkook peers over the couch and the upset in his expression melts away at the sight of Seokjin looking back at him. After a long moment, he heaves a sigh, slowly rising to his feet.
“Does it really mean that much to you?” Jungkook asks.
Seokjin’s head bobs up and down, eyes big and plush lips pouted.
“Okay,” Jungkook says at last. “Fine.”
Seokjin brightens up instantly. “Okay? I can start planning it?”
“Yes,” Jungkook replies as he shuffles over to the dining table. “You can start planning it.”
Seokjin wastes no time tackling the youngest Min in a hug, peppering kisses against his cheeks as halmeoni claps in delight. He puts on a brave front but Jimin doesn’t miss the way Jungkook’s cheeks burn bright pink, or the way his gaze fills with warmth at Seokjin’s happiness.
Jimin isn’t used to such bold displays of affection. Growing up, his family was always so reserved and skinship between his parents or relatives was rare. From what he knows about the Mins, he would have thought they’d be the same, but Jungkook winds his arms around Seokjin’s waist and presses a kiss to his cheek right there in front of his brother and grandmother.
Jimin turns back to his food, only to catch Yoongi’s eyes trained on him.
“What?” Jimin asks. He pauses at the lack of honorifics, wondering if Yoongi will call him out on it.
He doesn’t. Instead, his husband lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug and resumes eating without another word.
—
After lunch, halmeoni heads into her room to take a nap as Jimin and the others change into beachwear and make their way out onto the sand.
Begging exhaustion, Yoongi skips out on visiting the cave with them that afternoon, much to Jungkook’s disappointment. But it’s more fun exploring without the specter of his husband looming over them, Jimin thinks.
He follows Seokjin and Jungkook’s example as they wade into the shallow waters of the cave to catch squirmy tadpoles in their palms. While they splash around, Jungkook tells them more stories about halmeoni’s husband, Robert, who’d taught him and Yoongi everything from fly fishing to making necklaces from seashells.
They wile away the afternoon like this, revisiting a childhood that Jimin never had the chance to experience. By the time evening rolls around, he feels sated, as if hearing Jungkook reminisce about his visits to halmeoni as a child are enough to fill the emptiness left behind by Jimin’s own childhood.
Soon enough, the gold and amethyst tones of twilight fall over them, drawing them out of the cave to sit down on the white sands of the beach once again. The sunset is as magnificent as promised. Like a great big celestial tangerine, the setting sun splashes crimson streaks of light across the sky that slowly deepen into mauves and purples before ultimately snuffing out into a velvety midnight blue that blankets the earth.
Warm contentment envelops Jimin as he stares up at the stars. They don’t see stars like this in Seoul, where the pureness of the sky is polluted by artificial lights. He hasn’t seen stars like this since he visited Busan, too many years ago.
Before long, and without his permission, the contentment makes way for an aching sensation that wedges itself into Jimin’s heart. It makes him wish for something he doesn’t understand.
The ache only deepens when he turns to Jungkook and Seokjin beside him. They’re murmuring between themselves, loud enough to hear each other over the crashing waves but too low for Jimin to catch their words.
“Doryeon-nim, I’m gonna head in,” Jimin finds himself saying after a moment. He rises to his feet and brushes off the backs of his legs as Jungkook peers up at him.
“Oh, okay. We’ll be in soon,” he promises.
Jimin waves at them before turning away from the water to trudge back up to the house. His chest continues to ache with phantom hurt even as he enters the great room and finds Yoongi making dinner alone at the kitchen counter. His husband glances over his shoulder at him when he hears the door open but doesn’t say anything to Jimin.
Instead of joining him, Jimin slips out of the room, running light-footed up the stairs.
—
He can’t seem to shake the empty feeling even as he showers and readies for sleep that night. He’d gone through dinner on autopilot, barely participating in conversation under the pretense of still being jet lagged.
He’s so distracted that he forgets all about having to share his room with Yoongi until he’s tucked under the covers in bed. There’s no business call Yoongi needs to get on tonight but when Jimin retreats upstairs again after dinner, he stays behind to have a drink with Jungkook. Maybe it’s just another way to give Jimin time to fall asleep without him.
Only, Jimin can’t sleep.
He tosses and turns in bed, his mind too filled up with errant thoughts, his body still unable to shake the strangeness he’s felt since the afternoon.
When Yoongi finally slips into the room a couple of hours later, Jimin’s still awake.
Yoongi doesn’t turn on the lights, but his silhouette is outlined in blue moonlight as he changes into his night clothes.
Jimin guiltily presses his eyes closed, feeling like a voyeur for watching his husband under the cover of darkness.
After a moment more of shuffling sounds around the room, the bathroom door opens, and Jimin hears the faucet run as Yoongi brushes his teeth.
If the whole situation weren’t so awkward, Jimin would think he was dreaming. He’s had partners before but never anything so domestic as this—sharing space and families, visiting faraway places together. It feels more intimate, somehow. Which is funny, because Yoongi has barely touched him in all the time they’ve known each other.
When the other side of the bed finally dips under Yoongi’s weight, Jimin inadvertently lets out a sigh.
“Can’t sleep?” Yoongi says in a low voice.
Jimin hums. He turns on his side to face Yoongi, who has tucked himself under the blanket by now. He’s barely visible in the dark but the paleness of his delicate features is illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that cuts through the room.
“Should have had a drink,” Jimin mumbles, looking past Yoongi to the fluttering curtains of the window on the far wall.
There’s a rhythm to the waves crashing against the shoreline that matches his every other breath.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything in reply and the silence stretches for a long, long while and it makes Jimin wonder why they never have anything to talk about.
Nothing to say, not even for the sake of just saying something.
He sighs again.
“I didn’t know frogs could survive in saltwater,” Jimin mutters eventually. He blinks slow, not able to find a place to focus his gaze and feeling the teasing heaviness of just-out-of-reach sleep.
Half-asleep already himself, Yoongi snorts. “Most species can’t.”
“The tadpoles are so quick, though.”
Yoongi murmurs something that sounds like an agreement. They fall silent again. From this close, Jimin can smell the whiskey on Yoongi’s breath, mixed up like a strange cocktail with minty toothpaste.
“How many did you catch?” Yoongi asks.
“None,” Jimin admits.
“Pathetic.” There’s no bite to the word. It comes out of Yoongi’s mouth all soft around the edges and a little sweet, teasing.
Jimin sucks in a breath of air, pretending to be indignant. “I tried, okay? But like I said they were quick. And slippery.”
“The trick is to let them come to you. Don’t chase them,” says Yoongi. He turns on his back, dragging the blankets with him and making Jimin shiver.
“Hey, share,” Jimin whines.
Yoongi, as usual, doesn’t call him out for his disrespectful tone. Instead, he pushes the bedcovers back over with a huff.
“It’s like a thousand degrees,” he mutters. The words slur just a little, a hazy blend of sleepiness and whiskey seeping into his voice.
“I’m cold.” Jimin curls up under the covers, tucking them securely beneath his chin. He amends, “I’m always cold.”
“Noted.”
The silence that follows this exchange stretches for so long that Jimin thinks Yoongi must have fallen asleep.
But then, his husband heaves a sigh and flops back over again. His face is barely visible in the drops of moonlight that leak into the room. He blinks slow and deliberate as if the small action takes all his concentration and says, “If you want to skip the trouble of catching your own tadpoles, there’s always the gardens.”
Jimin wonders if the whiskey has anything to do with why Yoongi’s so talkative tonight.
“Gardens?”
He can see the dark shape of Yoongi’s head bob up and down in a nod. “Botanical gardens. They’re a bit of a drive into town but they’re nice,” Yoongi says.
Jimin has never seen a botanical garden. Not a real one, at least. Though to be fair, greenery in general is hard to come by when he spends most of his time in a concrete palace.
“I’d like to see them,” he admits. He wonders for a moment if Yoongi, in his strange mood tonight, will offer to take him.
Naturally, though, his reply lands way off the mark.
“I’m sure Sejin-ssi would drive you if you asked,” Jimin’s husband says.
Jimin can’t hold back the bubble of laughter that escapes him at the suggestion. He’s not sure why he’s even surprised.
Yoongi shifts, leaning a bit closer as if trying to see the expression on Jimin’s face. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” answers Jimin. He scuttles backward and clears his throat to dispel his giggles, but the absurdity of the situation makes him feel unhinged.
Yoongi grunts.
“I have an early morning meeting with Namjoon and some of the Seoul managers,” he says, yawning midway through the explanation. “Should sleep.”
“Sleep, then,” Jimin says with a snort. “Sorry for keeping you up.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Yoongi-ssi,” he whispers.
Without thinking, Jimin reaches out to pat Yoongi on the shoulder and feels his husband stiffen momentarily under his touch. He relaxes quickly but Jimin pulls away before he can make either of them uncomfortable.
Only as he closes his eyes and finally sinks into the embrace of sleep does Jimin realize that, despite his husband pawning him off to halmeoni’s chauffeur, the longing he’d felt all day has morphed into something else entirely.