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The soft chime of the doorbell jingled as the first rays of morning sunlight spilt through the large windows of Daegu Brew, Min Yoongi’s sanctuary. The coffee shop was nestled in a quiet corner of the bustling city, an oasis of calm amidst the chaos. Everything about the place perfectly aligned with Yoongi’s personality—the neatly arranged tables, the beautifully written menu board, and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee that lingered in the air. He thrived on this consistency, on the steady rhythm of steaming milk and grinding beans.
Today was no different. Yoongi moved methodically behind the counter, his hands deftly working the espresso machine as he hummed a quiet tune. The morning regulars came and went with their usual orders, exchanging polite nods and murmured thanks. This was his domain, his little world of order and simplicity.
Then the doorbell jingled again, and everything changed.
“Yoongi-hyung!”
Park Jimin’s voice was a burst of energy that shattered the tranquil morning. Yoongi barely glanced up, already bracing himself for the whirlwind that was about to disrupt his carefully curated peace. Jimin strutted in like he owned the place, his smile so bright it could rival the sun. His blond hair was slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his oversized sweater hung off one shoulder in a way that looked both effortless and impossibly deliberate.
“Morning, Jimin,” Yoongi replied, his tone as flat as the counter he was wiping down. “Your usual?”
“Obviously,” Jimin said, leaning against the counter with a playful grin. “But, you know, I was thinking…”
Yoongi sighed. Here it came.
“Maybe today’s the day you finally give me that discount,” Jimin continued, his voice dripping with mock innocence. He rested his chin in his hand, fluttering his eyelashes in exaggerated fashion. “I mean, don’t I brighten up your mornings enough to deserve it?”
“You brighten them, all right,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, turning away to prepare the mocha latte Jimin always ordered. “But no, you’re paying full price like everyone else.”
“Aw, come on, Hyung,” Jimin whined, his pout so dramatic it could have been practised. “How about a kiss instead of cash? It’s a win-win.”
Yoongi froze for a fraction of a second, the milk frother in his hand sputtering as he accidentally tilted it too far. He quickly corrected himself, scowling as he focused on the task at hand.
“Stop saying ridiculous things,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“Oh, I hear myself loud and clear,” Jimin said, his grin widening as he leaned closer over the counter. “The question is, are you listening?”
Yoongi refused to look up, focusing instead on pouring the perfect swirl of chocolate syrup over the whipped cream. He pushed the drink across the counter without meeting Jimin’s gaze.
“That’ll be 5,000 won,” he said curtly.
Jimin sighed dramatically, fishing a bill out of his pocket and sliding it across the counter. “You drive a hard bargain, Hyung. But one day, you’ll crack. Mark my words.”
“We’ll see,” Yoongi replied, finally daring to glance up. Big mistake. Jimin was still leaning on the counter, his face too close and his smile too disarming. Yoongi quickly looked away, busying himself with the next order that didn’t exist.
Jimin lingered, sitting the closest table to the counter, as he always did, sipping his mocha latte with exaggerated satisfaction. He’d claimed once that Daegu Brew made the best mocha lattes in the city, though Yoongi suspected it had less to do with the drink and more to do with his own presence.
“You know,” Jimin said after a moment, his tone unusually thoughtful, “if you ever need help around here, I’m available.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Help? From you?”
“Why not? I’m great with people. Plus, I could keep you company. It’s gotta be boring here all by yourself.”
“I like boring,” Yoongi replied, his voice tinged with dry humour. “And I’m not sure your definition of ‘help’ aligns with mine.”
Jimin feigned offence, placing a hand over his heart. “Hyung, you wound me. I’d be the best employee you’ve ever had.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi said, his lips twitching ever so slightly into what might have been a smile.
Jimin’s eyes sparkled as if he’d won a small victory. He stayed for another fifteen minutes, chatting about everything and nothing, his presence as lively and chaotic as ever. Yoongi responded in monosyllables, his demeanour cool and detached. But when Jimin finally left, with a cheerful wave and a promise to return tomorrow, the shop felt inexplicably quieter—and not in the way Yoongi liked.
As the day wore on, Yoongi found his thoughts drifting more often than he cared to admit. It wasn’t the first time Jimin had thrown his routine into disarray, nor would it be the last. But there was something about the younger man’s unrelenting energy, his unfiltered charm, that Yoongi couldn’t quite ignore.
“Hyung, you’re smiling to yourself,” Hoseok’s voice broke through Yoongi’s reverie. His coworker—and part-time nuisance—had come in to cover the evening shift.
“No, I’m not,” Yoongi said quickly, his expression snapping back to neutral.
Hoseok smirked. “Sure you’re not. Let me guess… Jimin was here again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi said, though the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.
Hoseok laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re terrible at hiding it, you know. Just admit you like him already.”
“I don’t,” Yoongi muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.
Hoseok raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he grabbed an apron and set to work, leaving Yoongi alone with his thoughts. Alone, that is, until tomorrow morning when the doorbell would jingle again, and Park Jimin would waltz back into his life, bringing chaos, laughter, and a spark of something Yoongi was too stubborn to name.
True to his expectations, the doorbell jingled again, and Yoongi could watch the blonde strut to the counter with that indescribable beauty.
“Morning, Hyung!” Park Jimin’s voice rang out like a burst of sunshine cutting through the soft hum of the coffee shop. His energy was impossible to ignore, even if Yoongi often pretended it didn’t affect him. Jimin’s grin was as bright as ever as he approached the counter, sliding into his usual spot with the ease of someone who belonged there.
“You’re late,” Yoongi muttered, glancing at the clock before finally meeting Jimin’s eyes. It was an excuse to hide the small smile threatening to creep onto his face.
“I’m late because I was deciding what masterpiece I wanted you to draw on my latte today,” Jimin replied, leaning forward on the counter with an exaggerated pout. “I think I’ve settled on…a bunny. Can you do that, Hyung? Or is it beyond your skill level?”
Yoongi snorted, already reaching for a cup. “I could do it with my eyes closed.”
“Bold claim. I’ll be the judge of that.”
Jimin’s teasing had become as much a part of the shop’s routine as the grinding of coffee beans and the soft clink of cups. At first, Yoongi had found it exhausting. Now, he found himself looking forward to it more than he cared to admit. It was the kind of energy the shop didn’t usually see, and—if Yoongi were honest with himself—the kind of energy he didn’t usually allow into his life.
As Yoongi prepared the mocha latte, Jimin kept up a steady stream of chatter about his morning, the weather, and a random video he’d watched about cats wearing tiny hats. Yoongi didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. Jimin filled the silences effortlessly, and Yoongi found himself listening more intently than he let on.
“Here,” Yoongi said, sliding the cup across the counter once he was finished. The latte art—a surprisingly detailed bunny—was perfect, of course.
Jimin’s eyes lit up. “Wow, Hyung! You really outdid yourself this time. I almost don’t want to drink it.”
“Then don’t,” Yoongi deadpanned, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Jimin laughed, taking a careful sip that left a small dollop of foam on his upper lip. Yoongi tried not to stare, but his eyes betrayed him for a split second before he turned away, busying himself with rearranging the pastry display.
Jimin’s visits are a regular occurrence, to the point where Yoongi began to anticipate them. The younger man’s presence was like a shift in the air—a disruption, yes, but not an unwelcome one. Jimin’s orders grew more elaborate with each visit: “Write me a haiku on my cup, Hyung,” or “Surprise me with a flavour I’ve never tried.” Yoongi would grumble under his breath, but he always indulged the requests, even if it meant spending a few extra seconds crafting something special.
“Why do I feel like you’re the only customer I actually work for?” Yoongi asked one morning, handing Jimin a cup with a hastily scribbled “You talk too much” written on the side.
“Because I inspire you,” Jimin said without missing a beat, flashing a smile that could disarm even the most stoic of hearts. “Admit it, Hyung. You’d miss me if I stopped coming.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but the thought lingered. He hated how accurate it was.
It started with the little things. Yoongi found himself preparing Jimin’s order before he even walked through the door as if his body had memorized the routine before his mind could catch up. He began experimenting with new latte art techniques, just to see Jimin’s reaction.
“This one’s a heart,” Jimin said one day, tilting the cup to inspect the design. He glanced up, his expression teasing but his tone soft. “Should I be reading into this, Hyung?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Yoongi replied, though his ears turned pink.
Jimin’s laugh was quieter this time, almost fond. “Sure, sure.”
The shifts were subtle but undeniable. Yoongi’s sharp edges seemed to soften whenever Jimin was around. His usual gruffness took on a playful undertone, and his smiles—rare as they were—came more easily. He started noticing things about Jimin he hadn’t paid attention to before: the way his nose scrunched when he laughed, the way he tapped his fingers against the counter in rhythm with whatever song was playing, the way his eyes sparkled when he teased.
One particularly quiet afternoon, the coffee shop seemed suspended in time. The usual hum of chatter and clinking mugs was conspicuously absent, replaced by the faint strains of a jazz melody threading softly through the space. The light filtering through the windows was golden, catching the swirling motes of dust in the air and casting warm patterns on the polished wooden floors. The café felt like a sanctuary, a hidden moment of calm in an otherwise bustling world.
Jimin sat at his usual spot by the counter, cradling the remnants of his mocha latte. His phone rested in his hand, the screen glowing faintly, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. Instead, he seemed lost in thought, his gaze occasionally drifting to the streets outside before settling back on his cup. The playful energy he so often carried was subdued, replaced by a quiet stillness that somehow made the room feel even emptier.
Behind the counter, Yoongi worked in his familiar rhythm, his hands deftly wiping surfaces and rearranging the already neat rows of cups and saucers. It wasn’t that the café needed tidying—he just needed something to do with his hands. His sharp eyes flicked toward Jimin every so often, drawn to the younger man despite himself. There was something about the way Jimin lingered that afternoon, the way he seemed to melt into the quiet, that unsettled Yoongi. Or maybe it was the way Yoongi’s chest felt oddly light whenever Jimin was around.
The question came out before he had time to second-guess it. “Why do you come here every day?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady but tinged with an unfamiliar curiosity.
Jimin blinked, startled out of his thoughts. His phone slipped from his hand to rest on the table as he looked up, his lips curving into a faint, amused smile. “Why?” he echoed, his voice lilting with its usual playful tone. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Yoongi answered quickly, a little too quickly, and the heat rising to his face betrayed his nonchalance. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the counter, picking up a clean cloth to busy himself. “I’m just curious,” he added, his tone softer this time.
Jimin’s smile lingered, but it changed—softer, less teasing. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. “I like it here,” he said finally, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity that caught Yoongi off guard. “It’s peaceful. And…” He hesitated, his eyes dropping to his drink as though it held the rest of his answer. “I like talking to you. Even if you’re grumpy half the time.”
Yoongi froze for a fraction of a second, his heart stumbling in his chest. He quickly masked the reaction with a scoff, his hands moving over the counter in a feigned display of indifference. “I’m not grumpy. That’s just my face.”
Jimin laughed, the sound bubbling up like sunlight breaking through clouds. It was warm and genuine, filling the small café and wrapping itself around Yoongi like a blanket. “Sure, Hyung. Whatever you say.”
Despite himself, Yoongi felt the corners of his lips twitch, the ghost of a smile threatening to appear. He turned his back to Jimin under the pretense of adjusting the row of coffee bean jars, but he could feel the younger man’s gaze on him, steady and unyielding.
“Why do you come here, though?” Jimin’s voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost tentative. “I mean, you could work anywhere. Why this place?”
Yoongi paused, his hand hovering over a jar of beans. The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. Why this place? It wasn’t something he had ever really thought about—not deeply, at least.
“It’s quiet,” he said eventually, his voice almost a murmur. “And steady. I like that.” He turned around then, meeting Jimin’s gaze for the first time since the conversation began. There was something in Jimin’s expression—curiosity, understanding, something deeper—that made Yoongi’s next words slip out before he could stop them. “I guess I like familiar things.”
Jimin tilted his head, his smile returning but gentler now, tinged with something Yoongi couldn’t quite place. “So... I’m familiar now?”
The question was light, teasing, but it hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Yoongi didn’t answer, but the faint flush creeping up his neck said enough.
Jimin’s grin widened, but instead of pressing further, he reached for his cup, taking one last sip before setting it down with a contented sigh. “I think you like me, Hyung,” he said, his voice playful but softer than usual, as though he didn’t want to break the fragile moment between them.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but the motion lacked conviction. “You think too much,” he muttered, turning back to his work.
Jimin didn’t reply immediately. He watched Yoongi for a moment longer, his gaze warm and steady, before finally pushing back his chair and standing. The sound echoed softly in the stillness of the café.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your peace and quiet,” he said, gathering his things with a grin. “But don’t miss me too much, okay?”
Yoongi huffed, but the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “I’ll try to survive,” he replied dryly, his tone laced with faint amusement.
As Jimin walked to the door, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, his smile lingering like the warmth of the sun. “See you tomorrow, Hyung.”
The door closed with a soft chime, leaving Yoongi alone in the café once more. But the silence felt different now—not empty, but full of something he couldn’t quite name. Something that made his chest feel lighter and heavier all at once.
And for the first time in a long time, Yoongi found himself looking forward to tomorrow.
As the weeks went on, Yoongi found himself watching Jimin more often. Not in an obvious way, of course. It was in the little moments: the way his eyes followed Jimin’s movements when he thought no one was looking, the way his hands lingered when he passed Jimin’s cup across the counter. He told himself it was just habit, nothing more.
But it was becoming harder to ignore the way Jimin made him feel. The way his presence brightened the shop, turned mundane mornings into something Yoongi looked forward to. The way his laughter lingered even after he’d left, like an echo in the air.
One evening, as Yoongi cleaned up for the day, he found himself smiling. He didn’t know when it had started, this strange warmth that spread through him whenever Jimin was around. All he knew was that it was there, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.
The coffee shop’s usual hum had faded into silence as the evening drew to a close. The chairs were stacked neatly on the tables, the floor swept clean, and the smell of coffee lingered in the air like a comforting embrace. Yoongi wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time, a habitual motion that helped him wind down after a long day.
But tonight, the shop wasn’t entirely empty.
Jimin was still there.
He sat at his usual spot, nursing the last dregs of his mocha latte. His playful energy, usually as bright as the morning sun, had dimmed to something softer, quieter. He’d offered to help clean up earlier, but Yoongi had waved him off, muttering something about not needing extra hands to do a job he’d been doing for years. Jimin had stayed anyway, and now the silence between them felt charged with an unfamiliar tension.
“You’re still here,” Yoongi said, breaking the quiet as he set the cloth aside.
Jimin looked up from his cup, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that your way of kicking me out, Hyung?”
“No,” Yoongi said quickly, surprising himself with the honesty in his tone. “Just wondering.”
Jimin’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he set his cup down. “Can I ask you something?”
Yoongi frowned, caught off guard by the shift in Jimin’s demeanour. “You’re already asking,” he said, trying to inject some of his usual sarcasm into the moment, but it came out weaker than he intended.
Jimin didn’t laugh. Instead, he tilted his head, studying Yoongi with an intensity that made him feel exposed.
“Are you happy?” Jimin asked softly.
The question hung in the air, as unexpected as a thunderstorm on a sunny day. Yoongi froze, his mind racing to find a response. Was he happy? He’d never really thought about it. Life was comfortable and predictable. He had his shop, his music, his solitude. But happiness? That felt like a different question entirely.
“Why are you asking me that?” Yoongi said finally, his voice quieter than he’d meant it to be.
Jimin shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I wonder about you sometimes. You work so hard here, keeping everything running smoothly, but I… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you really smile.”
Yoongi’s hands clenched at his sides. He wasn’t used to this kind of scrutiny, to someone looking at him so closely and seeing more than he wanted to show. “I smile,” he muttered defensively.
Jimin’s lips twitched into a small, teasing grin. “Not the kind of smile I mean, Hyung. Not the kind that reaches your eyes.”
Yoongi opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He looked down at the counter, tracing a faint scratch on the surface with his finger. The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” Jimin said gently. “I just… I was curious.”
Yoongi’s throat felt tight. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to speak, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I’m… content, I think. Isn’t that enough?”
Jimin’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “Content is good. But happiness is better.”
Yoongi scoffed lightly, but there was no real heat behind it. “Happiness feels… complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Jimin’s voice was quiet but insistent. “Sometimes it’s just… little moments. Things that make your heart feel lighter, even if only for a second. You deserve that, Hyung.”
The sincerity in Jimin’s words hit Yoongi like a wave, leaving him unsteady. He wasn’t used to being seen like this, to someone caring enough to dig beneath his carefully crafted exterior.
“Why do you care so much?” Yoongi asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
Jimin hesitated, his gaze dropping to the counter before meeting Yoongi’s eyes again. When he spoke, his voice was steady but tinged with vulnerability.
“Because I like you, Hyung,” Jimin said simply. “And not just as the guy who makes my coffee every morning. I like you. Your quiet humour, the way you care more than you let on, the way you… the way you look at me sometimes when you think I don’t notice.”
Yoongi’s breath caught. His heart was pounding, each beat echoing loudly in the silence of the shop. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the words even if he tried.
Jimin smiled softly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “I know I’m… a lot. I’m loud, and I tease you all the time, but I… I wouldn’t keep coming back here every day if it wasn’t for you. It’s not just the coffee or the routine. It’s you, Yoongi.”
Yoongi stared at him, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t untangle. Jimin’s honesty was disarming, leaving him feeling raw and exposed in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Jimin…” Yoongi started, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Jimin said gently. “I just… I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The shop felt impossibly quiet, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. Then, slowly, Yoongi’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. It wasn’t much, but it was real, and Jimin’s eyes lit up at the sight.
“Thank you,” Yoongi said softly, his voice steady now. “For saying that.”
Jimin’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Anytime, Hyung.”
As Yoongi locked up the shop that night, his thoughts were a jumble of emotions he couldn’t quite name. But for the first time in a long time, he felt something stir in his chest—something warm, something light. Maybe, just maybe, happiness didn’t have to be so complicated after all.
The weeks that followed their quiet confession were like stepping into uncharted territory. Yoongi found himself looking forward to Jimin’s visits more than ever, his gruff exterior softening with each playful interaction. Their conversations grew deeper, interwoven with light teasing and genuine moments of vulnerability. Jimin’s warmth had a way of seeping into Yoongi’s carefully guarded world, and for once, he didn’t mind.
Still, Yoongi had not expected Jimin to ask him out. Not like this.
“Dinner,” Jimin said one quiet afternoon, his tone casual but his eyes sparkling with mischief. He stood at the counter, fingers tapping rhythmically on its surface. “What do you think, Hyung? You and me. Somewhere nice. No coffee beans in sight.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference even as his pulse quickened. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you like me,” Jimin shot back, his grin unwavering. “And I like you. And it’s about time we had a proper date, don’t you think?”
Yoongi’s lips twitched, caught between a smirk and a smile. “You’re awfully confident.”
“I have to be,” Jimin said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not exactly easy to read, Hyung. If I didn’t make the first move, we’d be stuck in this coffee shop forever.”
Yoongi pretended to mull it over, his hand absently wiping the counter with a cloth. “Dinner, huh? I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“Oh, please.” Jimin rolled his eyes, but his laughter was light. “You’re free. And you’re saying yes. Don’t make me beg.”
The corner of Yoongi’s mouth lifted into a rare, genuine smile. “Fine. But don’t expect me to dress up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jimin said, his grin widening. “Friday at seven, then? I’ll text you the details.”
Yoongi nodded, his heart thudding in his chest as Jimin turned to leave, waving over his shoulder. The shop felt a little quieter after he was gone, but the warmth in Yoongi’s chest lingered.
Friday evening arrived faster than Yoongi anticipated. He’d spent the day at the shop, distracted by thoughts of what lay ahead. By the time he’d closed up and made his way home, the nervous energy buzzing in his chest was impossible to ignore.
Jimin had chosen a cosy, unpretentious restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. It wasn’t flashy, but it had a charm that suited them perfectly. When Yoongi arrived, he spotted Jimin waiting outside, bundled in a warm coat and scarf, his cheeks pink from the chilly air.
“Hyung!” Jimin waved, his smile as radiant as ever. “Right on time.”
“Of course,” Yoongi said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m not the one who’s always late.”
“Hey, I’m never late when it counts,” Jimin retorted, falling into step beside him as they entered the restaurant.
The atmosphere inside was warm and inviting, the soft hum of conversation blending with the faint strains of music playing in the background. They were seated at a small table near the window, the flicker of candlelight casting a gentle glow across their faces.
“So,” Jimin said, once they’d placed their orders. He rested his chin on his hand, watching Yoongi with a curious expression. “How’s it feel to be on a date with me?”
“Overwhelming,” Yoongi replied dryly, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings.
Jimin laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Good. I’d hate for you to be bored.”
They fell into an easy rhythm, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Jimin’s infectious energy was balanced by Yoongi’s steady calm, the two of them complement each other in ways neither had fully realized before. They talked about everything and nothing: music, childhood memories, dreams for the future. Yoongi found himself opening up more than he expected, his usual walls crumbling under Jimin’s gentle persistence.
“You know,” Jimin said thoughtfully, swirling his drink in his glass. “I used to think you didn’t like me very much.”
Yoongi frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re… well, you,” Jimin said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “All quiet and grumpy. But then I realized it’s just your way. And once I got past that, I saw the real you. The you that’s kind and thoughtful and… really cute, actually.”
Yoongi’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the candle’s flickering flame. “You’re too much,” he muttered.
Jimin reached across the table, his hand brushing against Yoongi’s. “You’re just enough,” he said softly, his eyes shining with sincerity.
After dinner, they walked together through the quiet streets, the crisp night air nipping at their skin. Jimin’s hand brushed against Yoongi’s a few times before he finally took the initiative, slipping his fingers into Yoongi’s with an ease that felt natural.
Yoongi didn’t pull away. Instead, he tightened his grip slightly, his thumb brushing over Jimin’s knuckles. They walked in comfortable silence, the city’s lights casting a soft glow around them.
“Thanks for tonight,” Jimin said after a while, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “I had a really good time.”
“Me too,” Yoongi admitted, his words simple but heartfelt.
Jimin’s smile was radiant, and he gave Yoongi’s hand a gentle squeeze. “So… does this mean we could try dating?”
Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re really pushing your luck, aren’t you?”
“Always,” Jimin said, his grin mischievous. “But seriously, Hyung. I’d like that. If you would too.”
Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face Jimin fully. He looked at him for a long moment, his gaze steady and searching. Then, with a small, genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
Jimin’s eyes sparkled, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. It was quick and light, but it left Yoongi’s heart racing nonetheless.
As they continued walking, hand in hand, Yoongi felt a strange but welcome sense of contentment settle over him. For the first time in a long time, the future felt open, filled with possibilities he hadn’t dared to imagine before.
And with Jimin by his side, he was ready to explore them all.