2

                                    

                                          
Taehyung had always been late to events, no matter how important or unimportant they were, so it was rather a surprise when three hard knocks echoed off the door before shuffling and voices bled through the entryway. Jimin was halfway through chopping some onions and trying his hardest not to tear up because of the overwhelming smell when two boys made their way through the apartment, carrying bags of store bought pies and ice cream for later. Jeongguk and Taehyung weren't supposed to arrive for another hour, which was probably the youngest boy's doing, as Jeongguk had a tendency to over analyze time and leave way too early.
Jimin set his knife down, rinsed his hands off and moved to give them both a brief hug before grabbing the bags to store everything in the fridge. "Party doesn't start for an hour, guys," Jimin reminded with a laugh, shutting the freezer door with his hip.
Jeongguk blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, before ambling further in the kitchen to grab a spoon and poke at the food still simmering in pots on the stove. "My fault."
"If you insist on getting here so early," Jimin began, tugging at Taehyung's wrist to pull him toward the cutting board. "You can help me finish preparing dinner. Yoongi had to run to the market to grab some potatoes and he's been gone for half an hour."
Taehyung's shoulders dropped in defeat, and a grumble escaped his lips as he flicked the faucet on to wash his hands. Jeongguk joined him, and Jimin watched fondly as the two fought over the soap dispenser and then flicked suds at each other in a frenzy of laughter. They were obviously meant for each other, with Jeongguk's way of handling Taehyung's sudden outbursts, and how Taehyung was able to bring out the silliness in the younger when Jeongguk felt shy or anxious. It didn't surprise Jimin when he found out they were completely committed to one another; it had been almost two years and it would only be a matter of time before they got married.
Jimin needed to get dressed; the guests would be arriving sooner or later, and he was still stuck in the sweat pants and t-shirt he'd worn to bed. After making sure the couple wouldn't burn the place down, Jimin slipped down the hall and into the lovely white bedroom, which had once been dull and lifeless, but now thrived with pictures and trinkets from the past. The day Jimin moved into Yoongi's penthouse was the day the bare walls of the bedroom were decorated with polaroids and candid snapshots, all strung about with twine and tape. Jimin brushed his fingers against one of them, a picture of Yoongi kissing him under the Eiffle Tower while visiting Taehyung and Jeongguk awhile back. That had been a good memory, just thinking of it made Jimin's stomach flip.
The closet was also much different from the way it used to be. Instead of various pressed suits, ties and expensive oxfords, it was now filled with bunched up t-shirts, jeans half folded and three year old sneakers. Of course, the suits had their own place in the wardrobe across the room. The left side was where Jimin kept his blazers and nice slacks for work, the right side where Yoongi hung his suits and silk vests. Jimin dodged the wooden wardrobe in favor of the closet, where he grabbed the first pair of black jeans he found only to see the size was too small. Yoongi always mixed their clothing when doing laundry. He flung them to the side and reached for another pair, which was luckily his own, and slipped into them. Then he tugged a casual white button up from a wooden hanger and put that on, too.
In the bathroom, their products were more or less thrown together in an unorganized pile. Jimin grabbed Yoongi's comb and raked it through his hair a few times, and then used hairspray to give it some type of style although it basically flopped back down to feather in his eyes a second later. There was a heap of towels and a pair of Yoongi's underwear on the floor by the corner of the shower that he grabbed and stuffed into the hamper, just so their guests wouldn't see how cluttered the loft was. He was responsible, still. Sort of.