Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/11894493. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS Relationship: Min_Yoongi_|_Suga/Park_Jimin Character: Park_Jimin_(BTS), Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Jung Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga's_Parents Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe, Camboy_Park_Jimin, Bottom_Park_Jimin, Smut, Producer Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, AU, Abuse, Sexual_Violence, Physical_Abuse, yoongi_to the_rescue, Original_Character(s), Angst, Jimin_doesn't_speak_Korean, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Emotional_Manipulation, Anxiety, Sarcasm, Park_Jimin-centric, Underground_Rapper_Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap Monster, Producer_Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Domestic_Violence, Violence, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Adoption, Confinement, Pseudo-Incest, Self-Worth Issues, Park_Jimin_Sings_Like_an_Angel, discussion_of_suicide, Past Suicide_Attempt, Underground_Rapper_Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Underage Drinking, Mentioned_Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin, Mentioned_Jeon_Jungkook, Depression, Major_Character_Injury, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Top_Min Yoongi_|_Suga Stats: Published: 2017-08-24 Completed: 2017-12-29 Chapters: 19/19 Words: 85026 ****** Break Away ****** by autumnjade Summary AU. Jimin had been orphaned at a young age. He was passed around foster care for several years before eventually getting adopted. He thought he’d finally found a family to call his own, but as the years passed, his adoptive parents grew apart, then separated, and he was left with his adoptive father. Still, he didn’t realize how big of a problem this was until his father pulled him out of school at the age of seventeen…and forced him to become an internet camboy. A couple years later, just as his life was about to take a turn down an even worse road, he was offered a chance to break away. But would it even be possible at this point? 12/30/2017 COMPLETED! Notes Wow, this story turned into way more than I intended originally. I was just going to have it be a quick one-shot, but then I just kept writing, and getting more and more ideas…I haven’t written anything this lengthy in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Please check the tags if you are a sensitive reader and are easily offended or triggered. This takes place in the US, but I purposely don’t specify which State, because the laws vary from State to State on the compulsory school age, and when I looked it up I was surprised that so many were all the way to 18. (I’d assumed it was 16 when I started writing this story, and intended for them to live in California.) ***** Prologue, Chapter I ***** Chapter Notes Wow, this story turned into way more than I intended originally. I was just going to have it be a quick one-shot, but then I just kept writing, and getting more and more ideas…I haven’t written anything this lengthy in quite a while, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Please check the tags if you are a sensitive reader and are easily offended or triggered. This takes place in the US, but I purposely don’t specify which State, because the laws vary from State to State on the compulsory school age, and when I looked it up I was surprised that so many were all the way to 18. (I’d assumed it was 16 when I started writing this story, and intended for them to live in California.) See the end of the chapter for more notes Prologue.    Jimin had been orphaned at a relatively young age. He’d been passed around foster care for a while before he was eventually adopted at the age of eight by a young couple. The couple seemed nice enough at first, but as Jimin got older, they seemed to argue more and more often. Eventually his adoptive parents separated, and his mother left Jimin with his father. Jimin was sixteen at the time. Throughout the following year, Jimin slowly began getting a weird feeling whenever he was around his father. He couldn’t really pinpoint exactly what it was. They still played video games together. They still fought over who had to cook dinner (neither one was particularly skilled in the kitchen, thanks to his mother being the one to prepare meals over the last eight years). They still teased each other over their choices of drinks from Starbucks. Jimin preferred simple iced coffees with milk and sugar, while his father always ordered complicated versions of drinks—iced, double-shot espresso with one pump of whichever flavor he was into that month, skim milk, no make that whole milk today, not too much ice.... And maybe it was just Jimin’s imagination, but he felt like his father was looking at him differently. Not unkindly, not angrily, but differently. And it gave him goosebumps sometimes, because even if he didn’t yet understand what the looks were, his instincts did. Every time he caught his father looking at him with that intense, pensive stare, he could feel himself retracting into himself, trying to make himself smaller, or covering up himself with his overlarge sweaters or hoodies. Doing that didn’t seem to help, though, because then the looks would just turn warm, and his father would laugh and ruffle his hair, pat his cheek, or playfully tap him on the butt as he walked by.   The most obvious change was that his father asked him to start calling him by his first name, instead of “Dad” (or “Pops,” when Jimin was feeling like a little shit teenager and just wanted to get a rise out of him). He claimed that he felt old when Jimin called him ‘Dad’ and that he wasn’t even that much older at 35 years old, so Jimin began calling him ‘Chris.’ He didn’t really mind, actually. It was kind of cool, even. He’d bragged to his friends about it, but they’d just made fun of him, calling him a ‘daddy’s boy’ and saying that only parents insecure about their ages asked their kids to call them by their actual names. It was true, somewhat, so Jimin stopped bringing it up.   But then Chris began canceling Jimin’s afterschool activities like dance and choir. He canceled his registration for the winter driving class. He entirely avoided the topic when Jimin suggested getting a part-time job after thinking that Chris was struggling with bills and the extracurricular class fees now that there was only one adult providing for the house. His mother had worked full time in addition to his father to contribute to their income, and they had lived comfortably. Instead, he suggested that Jimin begin working out with him at home, join him on his evening jogs, and eat more healthily. (“Are you calling me fat, Chris? Because that’s not something you should be saying to a teenager who already has low self-esteem when it comes to appearance.”  “What? No, of course not, Jimin! You’re beautiful. Don’t say that. I just thought we should try to live a little healthier now that Zoe’s not around to take care of us.” “If you say so. And don’t call me ‘beautiful.’ Makes me sound like a girl.” “Boys can be beautiful, too, Jimin.”) Then, a few weeks after Jimin turned seventeen, Chris pulled Jimin out of school—literally unenrolled him from school all together—and everything went to hell. Chris took his cell phone and laptop away. He put a lock on the outside of Jimin’s bedroom door. Granted he hadn’t used it yet, but the sight of it gave Jimin the chills. That first evening, dinner was strained. Jimin fidgeted, and pushed his food around his plate. Normally he would have confronted Chris by now, shouted at him in anger, or even started slamming doors in frustration. But his instincts were on high alert, and he was suddenly terrified. The man who had raised him for eight years, whom he had once called Dad, whom he loved with all his heart…now felt like a stranger.   I.   He was right to be terrified. His father sat back down at the table after Jimin had finished washing the dishes from dinner, and he placed an expensive looking video camera between them along with his laptop, and a sheet of paper with a list written upon it. Then, with the tone of explaining how to hook up a DVD player to a TV, Chris told him that from now on Jimin would be a camboy. He explained, as if Jimin didn’t already know what that meant, that he would have his videos uploaded onto a gay porn site, and they would get money from it. Chris said he couldn’t help noticing how attractive Jimin was becoming, and that his soft features and high voice would be very popular. Chris assured him that in the beginning, he would only film solo videos, in dim light and with his face obscured in case any perverts from Jimin’s school recognized him and reported him for being underage. Jimin wanted to spit out that the only pervert he should be worried about was sitting right in front of him, but he kept his lips sealed, and sat on his hands to keep from throwing the camera across the room. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Then Chris swung the laptop around and showed him the website they would be using. He had done his research. With the air of a businessman giving a seminar for a proposal, he led Jimin through the site, opening up a few videos here and there, talking about camera angles and sound equipment, backgrounds (they would use the guestroom, which didn’t have any identifying elements which could be traced back to them), and how they would get paid for all of this. Jimin grimaced at some of the things he saw. “Will I have to…do that?” he swallowed in a tight throat, feeling like his dinner was trying to push its way back up his esophagus. He pointed vaguely at the currently paused video of two young men fucking on a bed. Chris smiled. “Not until you’re eighteen,” he replied, as if he was doing Jimin a favor. “Don’t worry,” he added when Jimin blanched, “we’ll make sure you’re plenty ready before then. “I—” Jimin felt himself gag suddenly, and he jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair as he bolted into the kitchen to throw up in the trash. When he was finished, he rinsed out his mouth in the kitchen sink and splashed his face with cold water. He walked back into the dining room. “What’s wrongwith you?” “What? Jimin, I’m just making good use of our resources here to make our lives more comfortable.” “And that resource is what, my fuckable-ness? I can’t believe you!” He started to storm off toward the front door, not really sure where he intended on going, but needing to get out of the house and away from his father. Before he could get to the door, though, he felt a hand close over his arm. “You’re not going anywhere.” He gasped, and stared up at Chris’s dark eyes. “Let me go.” The grip tightened, starting to hurt. “Let me go!” He kicked out, but then felt his head jerk to the side as Chris used his free had to smack him across the face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jimin, but I will if I have to. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard.”   They made the first video the following night. It didn’t go well, as to be expected. “I, I can’t, not with you watching me! This isn’t going to work, I swear.” Jimin sat up on the bed, facing the direction he knew the camera was standing, but unable to actually see because of the black blindfold around his eyes. He was dripping in sweat from Chris kicking up the heater to an obnoxious temperature, and with no clothes on to absorb the sweat, he could feel it running down his back and legs, probably soaking the bedsheets. “It’s not like I’m your real father,” Chris pointed out. “I’m just another man, behind the camera.” “Gross. You raised me.” “Zoe raised you. I just hung out with you and helped pay for half of your shit. I’m not your dad. Never was.” Jimin bit his lip, holding his hands clasped in his lap, covering his crotch. “I wanted to go easy on you the first time, and let you just jerk off like I’m sure you normally do on a regular basis, but if you can’t get it up, I might have to provide you with assistance.” “Assistance?!” Jimin squeaked, voice cracking. “What—” “A vibrator, obviously. I’m not touching you myself, geez. Just because I can appreciate your body doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you, Jimin.” There was silence for a moment, and then Jimin yelped when something small hit him on the chest and bounced into his lap. He picked it up, making a revolted face. “What the hell? What’s this?” “A vibrator.” “Why’s it wet?! Ugh. Nasty.” “That’s called lube, Jimin,” Chris deadpanned. Jimin’s rude remarks were normally something he enjoyed, but his patience was clearly growing thin. “Turn it on, and use it.” Jimin took a deep breath, and found the button on the end of the device. It buzzed to life, and to Jimin’s relief, it didn’t seem too strong. “There are three settings,” Chris explained. “It’s like a bike light; you have to go through the settings to turn it off or on. Okay, now I’m going to start filming you again.” The room was suddenly silent except for the soft buzzing of the vibrator. Biting his lip, Jimin lay back and tried to stroke himself again. He felt awkward, queasy. He’d watched porn before, and it always looked sexy. He didn’t feel sexy. He took the vibrator in his other hand and used it to draw circles on his lower abs, jolting a little from the sensation. Then he moved it farther down, hesitating slightly before rolling it along is dick. He sucked in a startled breath. It felt good?! He tried to forget that he was being watched. He wanted to get this over with. So he pretended that he was in his own bed in the middle of the night, and he touched the vibrator to his dick again, longer this time, and a shudder ran through his whole body. His head fell back on the bed, and he couldn’t help the tiny whimper that broke through his lips. Eventually the video was finished, and Jimin curled up in a humiliated ball on the bed as Chris put everything away. “Good job,” he told Jimin kindly, which just made the teen want to pull into himself even more. “It’s just your first time, so it’s bound to be like that. You’ll get used to it.”   As the months went on, Jimin—for better or for worse—did get used to it. He adjusted what he did according to some of the comments posted, and he became desensitized to Chris’s presence behind the camera. He also turned out to be a natural; he was very good at pleasuring himself, and just as Chris had predicted, the viewers loved the sounds he made. Jimin constantly thought about running away, escaping, but he never had a chance. He had no idea if his friends had even tried to get in touch with him; if they had, Chris hadn’t told him. And his father never let him out of his sight unless he was locked up. It wasn’t as if Jimin was trapped in the house 24/7, though. He and Chris still went out for lunches and dinners, to the grocery store together, even to the movies on the rare occasion. But whenever they got into fights, he threatened Jimin with blackmail if he were to try to escape; he’d anonymously tell potential employers what he did, he’d tell Jimin’s friends what he did…all with the implication that Jimin would be abandoned and rejected in each case. He knew how fragile Jimin’s self- confidence was, and used it to his advantage every time. Before he knew it, Jimin’s eighteenth birthday was approaching. Eighteen was usually an age everyone looked forward to. But he was dreading it. The anxiety was so bad that he threw up his entire birthday dinner and cake, and couldn’t stop retching all night. He was ill for the next three days, lying in bed and unable to do much of anything. He dropped two kilos just from not eating. But Chris didn’t let him carry on for too long. On the fourth day, he dragged Jimin out of bed, forced him into the shower, and tossed some clothes at him. “Come on. Get your ass in the car, Jimin. I’m not waiting all day.” The apartment seemed normal from the outside, but once they entered, it was clear that no one actually lived there. It was solely used for shooting videos. Jimin unconsciously clung to Chris’s side when he saw the man who would be his partner, the man who would take his virginity. Chris ran his hand through Jimin’s currently ginger-orange hair before gently pushing him forward. “It’ll be fine, Jimin. He’ll be nice. Won’t he,” he directed the final sentence toward the young man leaning against a dresser. “Sure,” the man smiled, letting his eyes roam over Jimin’s body in interest, which was completely covered by jeans and a large sweatshirt. “I’ll show you a good time, baby, don’t you worry.” Jimin’s legs gave out, and Chris caught him just before he hit the ground. “P-please don’t make me,” Jimin whimpered, trying to hide his face in Chris’s chest. He was pushed away. “Grow up, Jimin. It’s time to be professional about this,” he said sternly. “First time?” the man asked, clearly knowing the answer before Chris confirmed it. “Fun. But you gotta relax, babe. It won’t be fun otherwise.” He gestured for Jimin to come closer, and he stumbled slightly toward the man. He was tall, and Jimin felt unbelievably small next to him. “Relax.” The man was surprisingly gentle when he wrapped his arms around Jimin and stroked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like it when my bed partners cry,” he said matter-of-factly, wiping away the first tear that had leaked down Jimin’s cheek. “It’s a major turn off.” Jimin took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his cheek against the man’s hard chest. “That’s it, easy. You’ll be fine.” “Ready to get this show on the road?” Chris interrupted obnoxiously. True to his word, the man was gentle, and relatively slow and patient, but by the end of the recording Jimin’s face was streaked with tears, and his throat was raw from crying out in pain.   Yet just as he had eventually grown used to the solo videos, he eventually got used to having filming partners. Sometimes his partners were repeated, but often it was a new man each video. Each time Chris brought Jimin out to be fucked in front of the camera, he never knew what he would be met with. Although most were what Jimin would call normal; passionate but gentle…some of the men were violent; choking him or hitting him, or leaving such strong hickeys that they actually drew blood to the surface. Sometimes he had two partners at once, and on more than a few occasions he had been forced with double penetration. That probably topped his list of things he hated most; not only was it not pleasurable to him at all during the act, but it was extremely difficult for Jimin to walk properly afterward. More times than he could count, Chris had to carry Jimin out of the apartment or hotel room and into the car.   His life continued like this for another year and a half. Then something happened that would once again change his life completely. Chapter End Notes Noooo, Jiminie! I was originally planning to go into detail during his very first video and with a partner (aka his first time)...but I realized I couldn't bear to. I don't have a problem writing other uncomfortable scenes later, but I just couldn't bring myself to write those two scenes when he's younger. Btw...we meet Yoongi in the next chapter! I haven't yet decided if the other BTS members will appear...maybe they'll have little cameos here and there, but they're not essential to the story at the moment, so we'll see. I've got a few more chapters written already, but I keep going back and forth adding/editing things, and although I have a general outline for the rest of the story, I can't guarantee when I'll have time to write, so I hope you don't mind if the updates aren't super frequent. Thanks for reading! ***** Chapter II ***** Chapter Notes Finally Yoongi makes an appearance! Can't have a Yoonmin story without him! Just a warning, the descriptions of (unwanted) sexual activities are much more graphic in this chapter. Please take care reading. See the end of the chapter for more notes II. One morning while picking up coffee on the way home with Chris after a particularly violent overnight recording, Jimin could feel eyes on him when they were waiting in line. He glanced up at the brown-haired, sleepy-eyed barista behind the counter, who was staring right back at him. He looked like he was about Jimin’s age; he couldn’t be more than a few years older than him at most. By his expression, he’d clearly noticed the bruises and cut lip, the way Jimin was limping, and how his silver-blond hair seemed to be plastered to his forehead by sweat despite it not being especially hot that day. Jimin stumbled as his father gave him a little shove when the line moved and Jimin stayed still. His stomach dropped. The barista had probably even noticed the controlling way that Chris pushed and directed Jimin through the line. He made eye contact with Jimin again, silently questioning him, flicking his eyes up to Chris and back. Jimin subtly checked to see if Chris was looking at him before pursing his lips and giving the smallest nod possible. He saw the barista’s eyes widen slightly. He also glanced to check where Chris was looking (the menu board overhead), and then mouthed ‘bathroom’ to Jimin. Jimin swallowed nervously and pulled his hands inside his sleeves. When they got up to the counter and ordered their drinks, the barista—Yoongi, his name tag proclaimed—asked for both of their names rather than just his father. He quickly wrote the names on the cups before ringing them up. Jimin nudged Chris. “Um, I need to use the restroom.” The older man looked irritated rather than suspicious, which was a relief. “Can’t it wait until we get home?” “No, it’s kind of, uh, urgent,” he half whispered, acting like he didn’t want Yoongi to hear, even though he definitely could. His father sighed. “All right, but be quick. We’re leaving as soon as the drinks are ready.” Jimin nodded and started to pull away. “You’ll need a passcode for the restroom,” Yoongi spoke up. “Hang on, we just changed it and I don’t have it memorized. Go on back and I’ll look it up for you.” The second Jimin met Yoongi in the back hall, he had to grab the other man’s shoulder to steady himself. His legs were about to give out, and to his horror he also felt something sticky leak out of himself, soaking into his boxers. He was still unbelievably loose down there. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, wiping at his sweaty bangs. “Is that man abusing you?” Yoongi asked as he helped support Jimin’s weight. “What are these injuries from? Do you need me to call the cops?” “I—no, it’s…he didn’t touch me. It’s complicated.” “It can’t be that complicated. He’s either involved in some way, or he’s not. Which is it?” Jimin opened his mouth, closed it, and swallowed. He had difficultly holding eye contact with the barista. He felt like he would pour out his soul if he did. He unconsciously leaned into Yoongi’s touch, which luckily was misinterpreted as faintness. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit? I—” “Jimin?” they suddenly heard Chris’s voice call out around the corner. “Fuck.” With a burst of adrenaline, Jimin grabbed Yoongi and pulled him into the multiple-stall bathroom (Yoongi keyed in the code in a split second), shoving the door shut quickly. A moment later there was a sharp knock. “Jimin?Are you in there? We need to get going.” Knowing there was no way they could safely exit the bathroom without arousing suspicion now, Jimin hissed quickly in Yoongi’s ear. “Just play along. Please.” Before Yoongi could ask what he meant, Jimin fell back against the door with a dull thud and then moaned loudly. Yoongi opened his mouth in shock and looked like he was about to say something, so Jimin pulled him hard against him and kissed him roughly. He used one hand to tug at his own clothes, disheveling them and undoing his jeans. He continued to let out high moans and gasps, bumping his body against the door. He took Yoongi’s hands, which were frozen at his sides, and thrust them into his hair. The knocking got louder. “Jimin, you open this door right now!” Jimin let out a loud broken moan, along with a breathy but loud, “W-wait, no, stop,” and then immediately hissed to Yoongi, “Quick, what’s your cell?” He took the pen and notepad from Yoongi’s uniform pocket; he hadn’t had his own cell phone since Chris took his away two years ago. Yoongi quickly jotted down his number, and Jimin slipped the piece of paper deep into his jeans pocket. Then he straightened up, messed up Yoongi’s hair a little, and then swung the door open just as he pulled Yoongi in for another deep, sloppy kiss. Yoongi groaned into his mouth and clutched both sides of his face. Jimin smiled into the kiss and then pulled away with an obnoxiously wet noise. “Sorry, Chris,” he apologized to his father, buttoning and zipping his jeans back up and straightening his shirt. He turned to Yoongi and quickly fixed his hair and made sure his uniform wasn’t out of place. “This is what was so urgent? You little slut, I should have known.” Jimin shrugged. “You made me this way,” he said defiantly. He gave Yoongi a little shove back toward the staff door, but didn’t let go of him. “Go back to work, darling,” he grinned, and then leaned up to suck and bite on his earlobe, causing a shudder to course through the barista. “Keep your phone on you. Please.” “All right, all right, that’s enough. Take your coffee and let’s go, Jimin.”   After they got home, Jimin showered thoroughly and pulled on his most comfortable cotton sleep pants and a loose t-shirt despite it being nearly one in the afternoon. He headed downstairs to find something to eat for lunch.   “Hey, Jimin, I was thinking.” It was mid-afternoon. Chris was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his cell phone, and Jimin paused as he walked through the living room. “’Bout what.” “After seeing your little escapade today, I was thinking we could even rent you out for private sessions. If we get clients to pay enough—you’re practically a celebrity, after all—it’d really make bank.” Jimin felt his stomach drop for the second time that day, but for an entirely different reason. “Um. What kind of clients? I hope not smelly old men.” “Nah, we don’t want to do that if we plan on recording the sessions. I was thinking we’d set up a camera or two in the room, leave you two – or three,” he chuckled, “who knows; we could double the price for threesomes – anyway, leave you guys alone, and then post the edited video afterward. See, right now your partners are getting paid just like we are, but if we offer out your services to paying clients with the understanding that it’ll be posted online, it’s win- win for us. I’m sure loads of your viewers want to have a piece of you, and they’re the kind of sick bastards that would want others to watch them fuck you afterward.” Jimin stared at him for a long time, silent. He had long perfected the art of showing no emotions on his face. He wanted to scoff at the “we,” in that sentence, since they both knew that Jimin wasn’t getting a dime from this. But he remained still and silent. “So, what do you think?” as if he had a choice. “I guess. If you think it’d work.” Chris smiled up at him warmly. “Fantastic.” Then he gestured to Jimin to come closer. “Come on, why don’t you watch a movie with me, like old times?” He pulled Jimin to his side, curling his arm around his waist and lying back on the sofa as he picked up the remote to see what was available on Netflix. Jimin took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, letting his body relax. Like old times. He used to love his adopted father. Before he started calling him by his first name. Before he had changed. Before his mother left. Jimin still didn’t know what had happened between them.   Midway through the movie, Chris’s left hand began to wander from where it had been resting against his hip, arm curled around Jimin’s back to hold him close. First it was just gentle strokes along Jimin’s side, almost calmingly, but then his hand went lower, palming his dick through his pants. After a few minutes of seemingly unconscious massaging, in which Jimin’s breathing became more uneven, he slipped his hand into Jimin’s underwear to wrap his fingers around his length. Jimin bit his lip and momentarily squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay quiet, to not react. Chris had never touched him like this before. Why now? He opened his eyes and tried to pretend he was still watching the movie, even though he couldn’t concentrate on the screen at all. Chris’s movements were slow and languid, almost kind, if it weren’t for the context of their situation. Jimin was still pretty sensitive from earlier, but his body had grown so accustomed to multiple rounds and hardcore sex that he found himself hardening despite his discomfort. Chris shifted slightly on the sofa, pulling Jimin partway onto his lap, and then his right hand joined his left in Jimin’s underwear. Jimin couldn’t hold in the small gasp when his right hand began to massage the area directly behind his balls, and when a thick finger pushed back, wiggling a bit before plunging into his entrance, Jimin choked out a cross between a sob and a whimper. “You like that, don’t you,” Chris murmured against his ear in a low, dangerous voice. He didn’t wait to increase the number of fingers, going straight to four. Jimin panted around a pained groan. “Lube. Please. Oh god. Fuck. I can’t. Lube, please, please, please.” Chris removed his fingers and brought them up to Jimin’s mouth. “You know I’m not going anywhere now,” he pointed out sharply. Jimin knew there was no point in protesting, so he quickly took Chris’s fingers into his mouth and did his best to get as much saliva on them as possible. The second Chris felt like it was enough, he immediately thrust his dripping fingers right back into him. Jimin let out a loud cry, jolting on the sofa. Chris’s thrusts got stronger and stronger, and the volume of Jimin’s cries gradually increased. The movie was forgotten. Chris groaned, shifting again on the sofa, as if he wasn’t comfortable. “I don’t know why the hell I’ve never bothered with trying this before,” he said, taking his left hand off of Jimin’s dick to momentarily force Jimin’s head around so that he could suck on his throat. He simultaneously pushed his fingers into Jimin’s mouth and began playing with his tongue, squeezing and tugging it, folding it this way and that, rubbing his middle finger down the middle toward his throat, purposely hitting Jimin’s gag reflex multiple times; every time Jimin gagged, he clenched around the hand in him down below. Chris’s right hand was now fucking deep and hard, pressing against Jimin’s prostate each time. The teen was writhing, bucking his hips up against the hand inside him. “Ugh, you’re so fucking hot,” Chris growled, suddenly moving and throwing Jimin down lengthwise on the sofa, changing the angle of his thrusting hand. Jimin came with a rough cry, the front of his gray shirt darkening where he sprayed. Once again showing his inconsideration for Jimin’s pain, Chris continued to thrust into Jimin even after his release until Jimin was babbling incoherently, tears streaming down his face. When Chris finally pulled his hand out, it was only to then pull his own dick out of his pants and begin jerking off over Jimin. He came all over Jimin’s face, and he must’ve thought the image was so sexy that he had to grab his phone off the coffee table and snap a few pictures. One zoomed out, several close ups from different angles, and one ten second video panning up from the mess on the front of his shirt to Jimin trying to catch his breath. “Fucking slut,” he smirked, admiring his handiwork as he put his phone away. “We’re definitely gonna have to do that more often.”   Jimin lay on the sofa long after Chris left to do who knows what in another part of the house. He stared up at the ceiling and willed the tears to stay inside his tear ducts. He didn’t want to move, couldn’t move, and he wished he could just melt into the sofa cushions, drip toward the floor, sink through the floorboards, and plunge into the earth. Maybe he would feel free then. He fell asleep, slept the entire afternoon away, missed dinner, and then finally around nine, Chris woke him up. “You need to sleep in your room, kid.” Kid. As if he had a right to call him that after what he’d done to Jimin earlier. “Can’t move,” Jimin muttered in his most petulant tone of voice. Jimin was carried upstairs to the bathroom, where Chris gave him a quick once- over with a washcloth to clean off any of the remnants from his tryst with him, held him upright as he brushed his teeth, and waited just outside the door as he used the toilet. Then he carried Jimin to his room, where he was left locked up until morning, as usual. As he lay back on his bed, Jimin thought about how he was going to get in touch with Yoongi. And once he did, what could he possibly do? There was no way Jimin could get away from Chris. But he had to at least try. With tonight’s new development, it was even more crucial that he escape. Otherwise he would spend the rest of his life as nothing more than a literal sex slave. He usually only filmed once, maybe twice a week, so he’d always had recovery breaks for his body. But with Chris’s new-found interest in him, and his plan to rent him out, Jimin might never have a day of rest. Jimin mouthed the numbers of Yoongi’s cell to the ceiling. While he’d been in the bathroom to shower before lunch, he’d taken the piece of paper out and memorized the number before soaking it in water until the ink ran and it was nothing more than a glob of tree pulp. He couldn’t risk Chris finding the number. Also, this way Jimin would be prepared if he suddenly had access to a phone. Chapter End Notes Well I apologize if that was as uncomfortable for you to read as it was for me to write. Also, I get so tired of BTS members being written as baristas, but honestly it was the only plausible occupation for Yoongi if the story was to work out the way it does, so…I’m sorry. :P But I don't regret the little make-out scene in the bathroom, hahaha. I was trying not to laugh while writing it. Until next time! ***** Chapter III ***** Chapter Notes This is the chapter I was most excited for! Funny thing is it turned out way different than I originally imagined when starting this story, but I like how Jimin and Yoongi seem to write themselves, lol. Oh, and thanks for the kudos! I don't really understand what they are (haha I'm so bad at this), but I assume they're basically AO3's version of the 'like' button, so that's super cool. :) Seeing them really encourages me to keep writing! See the end of the chapter for more notes III.   His chance came sooner than he had expected; Chris was true to his word about renting Jimin out like a common whore, and after Jimin had been thoroughly fucked out in the dark hotel room a few days later, he noticed the stranger’s cell phone lying next to the pillow, just under the sheets. The man had left it there after setting an alarm for the morning. Jimin grabbed it and held it down at his side, away from the view of the cameras as he slipped out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He stuffed a towel against the crack in the door to block any light or sound, and then he switched on the tap to add more white noise just in case. No one answered on the first try, and Jimin momentarily panicked that he’d memorized the number incorrectly, or that Yoongi had given him a fake number. But then he remembered what time it was, and tried again. On the fourth try, a raspy and groggy voice answered. “What the fuck, who is this?Do you fucking not know what time it is?” “Yoongi, it’s Jimin. Do you remember me?” Jimin whispered as quietly as he could, but loud enough for Yoongi to hear. He heard shuffling on the other end, and suddenly Yoongi’s voice became clearer, more awake. “Jimin? Oh my god, I thought something horrible had happened to you. Why haven’t you called until now?” “I don’t own a cell phone,” he explained, twitching his leg nervously as he sat on the edge of the tub. “I’m using someone else’s phone right now.” He took a shuddering breath, and winced slightly when he inadvertently pressed the wrong spot against the tub. “Look, I need your help, but I don’t know what you can even do to help. But I need out.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Where are you right now? Can I come get you?” Jimin panicked slightly. “No, no, you can’t. I can’t. There are cameras. He’ll find us.” “Cameras?” “Y-yeah. Look—” “Are you locked up right now or something?” Yoongi hissed, obvious anger in his voice “Not, not really?” It ended up as more of a question than an answer. “I’m in a hotel.” “What hotel? I’ll come get you. I don’t care. This isn’t right, Jimin. I don’t even know what that shit of a man’s making you do, but I know it’s not right, and you don’t deserve it. Now tell me what hotel.” Jimin heard more rustling, and the jangle of keys. Yoongi was serious. “Jimin?” He swallowed, feeling nauseous. “I, I don’t have any…clothes,” he trailed off, humiliated. Chris had taken his clothes with him when he’d left Jimin alone in the room before the stranger had arrived, just in case he tried something very much like what he was about to do. Jimin had never tried to escape before, but Chris wasn’t dumb. There were a few agonizing seconds of silence on the other end, before Yoongi spoke up again, voice calm. “I’ll bring you clothes. Don’t worry. Just tell me where you are.” Jimin told him the name of the hotel and room number. He told him that if he saw anyone lingering near the door, to stay away. And he reminded Yoongi to not contact this number because it wasn’t his phone. Yoongi promised he’d be there in about forty minutes to an hour, depending on traffic at that hour. It was just past three-thirty in the morning. Jimin deleted the multiple phone calls from the call history as soon as he hung up, and returned the screen to the menu it had been on when he’d found it. He silently left the bathroom and slipped back into bed, replacing the phone in the exact place as before. The stranger mumbled in his sleep and then rolled over, nearly crushing Jimin with his heavily muscled body. There was a quiet chuckle, the rumbling vibration transferring to Jimin’s skin underneath. “Hey there, babe,” the man murmured, opening his eyes. “How ‘bout another round before they kick me out?” he leaned down and kissed Jimin roughly. “Want my money’s worth, after all. You’re not cheap.” Jimin wasn’t sure if he could handle another round so soon, but he smiled seductively and said, “Sounds like fun.” The man threw off the sheets and pushed Jimin’s legs apart, immediately thrusting into him, forcing a startled cry from Jimin’s lips. Belatedly, he reached over to the bedside table to grab the bottle of lube, and pulled out momentarily to squirt a large portion into his hand. He slathered half of it onto his flushed cock, the other half all around and just inside Jimin’s rim. Then he wasted no time before pushing back in. Jimin would never admit it aloud, but he loved the disgusting, wet, squelching sounds during sex when his partners went overboard with the lube. Maybe it was because whenever they did that, he wasn’t in nearly as much pain both during and afterward, so the sex was more enjoyable. Either way, it made him horny like nothing else, so he pulled the man down to kiss him greedily, moaning loudly and licking into his mouth as he rutted desperately against the thick cock inside him. After several minutes the man twisted their bodies so that Jimin was arched back over the side of the bed, hanging limply with his head inches from the carpet, hands sprawled uselessly on the floor. He wasn’t used to this angle, and he started to feel dizzy from the blood rushing to his head as the stranger pounded into him. He heard roaring in his ears, and then all sound disappeared. Suddenly he woke up, feeling cold tiles against his body, a similarly cold and wet washcloth being pressed against his face. He opened his eyes to see the stranger crouched next to him, looking uncharacteristically concerned. Jimin groggily sat up, feeling like he was going to vomit. His neck hurt. “Wha’appened?” he slurred. What time was it? “You blacked out. I didn’t even realize.” The stranger looked genuinely apologetic, and lifted the washcloth to his face again. “Your boss isn’t going to have me arrested, is he? It’s all on video, even. Maybe I should just delete—” “No,” Jimin interrupted quickly. “Don’t delete it. It’s not a big deal if I black out during sex. Happens on a regular basis,” he added dryly. “You’re kidding. Wow.” He paused. Then, “That’s…kind of hot, I gotta admit.” Jimin snorted. “Why, was it fun fucking my limp body?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth; Chris repeatedly had told him he wasn’t supposed to make fun of the clients’ kinks. Luckily the stranger didn’t seem to mind the jab. He leaned down close to Jimin’s ear. “Yes, yes, it was,” he whispered, and then began sucking on Jimin’s earlobe. He moved down to suck at Jimin’s Adam’s apple, and then back up again to shove his tongue down Jimin’s throat. “God, I can’t believe how fucking hot you are. So small, and ridiculously beautiful, just like one of those Asian pop stars that everyone’s talking about lately.” He pumped Jimin’s dick. “And those sounds you make.” Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the hotel door that made both of them jump. “Room service,” Jimin heard Yoongi’s ‘customer voice’ call out, and he pushed down the sigh of relief that threatened to spill out. “The fuck?” the stranger hissed, scowling. “I didn’t order room service. And at this hour?” “Oh,” Jimin breathed, pretending that he’d just remembered. “They didn’t tell you? We scheduled for room service to come in the middle of the night with a bottle of wine. It’s part of the whole package,” he smiled, sliding his hand down the stranger’s torso and squeezing his dick softly. “Go ahead, open the door.” “All right, fine. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, why don’t you,” he trailed off suggestively and took Jimin’s hand, straightened his fingers (there was another knock on the door), and shoved them deep inside himself. Jimin couldn’t stop the wretched moan from leaving him, and the man, clearly overwhelmed by the noise, bent down to attack his mouth and yank Jimin’s wrist out only to punch his whole fist into Jimin in such rapid succession that Jimin came very shortly after with a loud, broken cry. The knocking had grown incessant. Swearing and letting Jimin collapse back onto the tile, now covered in semen, the man rinsed his hands and threw on a bathrobe before walking over to the door—thankfully leaving the bathroom door open. Jimin struggled to get up, still feeling weak from his loss of consciousness, and now barely able to feel his legs beyond the pain inside. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of a scuffle, the outer door slamming shut, and then the dull, hollow sound of something heavy presumably being knocked against a skull. A quiet but heavy thud followed, and Jimin held his breath, muscles tense, propping himself up on the edge of the tub. Yoongi was nearly as small as Jimin, and the stranger was packing muscles. He didn’t have much of a chance. “Jimin?” He let himself slump against the tub in relief. Yoongi’s quiet, rough voice was the best thing in the world. “In here,” he called, just as quietly. He knew the cameras were still recording, and the super sensitive audio settings could likely pick up their voices if they spoke too loudly. Yoongi stepped into the bathroom, wearing red and black high tops, jeans ripped all the way up his skinny thighs, and a black bomber jacket over a gray hoodie. And although he wore a mask and a black snapback presumably to hide his identity, Jimin could still see the horror in his eyes. Jimin took in all of this in less than a second. “Oh my god, Jimin.” Yoongi reached out automatically for him, but hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure where he should touch, if he should touch at all. Jimin lifted his arm up. “Help me up. I can barely move,” he groaned. Yoongi visibly swallowed and immediately grabbed his hand, hauling him up to sink gingerly onto the closed toilet lid. Jimin couldn’t hide the grimace, and Yoongi looked very uncomfortable, trying to keep his eyes above his shoulders. “Can you,” Jimin took a pained breath, “can you wet that washcloth and hand it to me?” A few minutes later, Jimin was relatively clean, and dressed in comfy gray sweatpants, a white t-shirt, a black hoodie with savage words in white print, “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT when you’re busy being a moron, I will simply BURY YOU ALIVE in the grave you dug out yourself,”* and even sneakers that fit him pretty well. Yoongi glanced back into the entranceway and proclaimed the man still unconscious. Apparently he’d knocked him over the head with the heavy umbrella stand by the door. “Right, let’s get out of here before he wakes up,” Yoongi whispered nervously. Jimin felt a rush of panic. This was happening. It was really happening. He hadn’t thought any of this through. What was he going to do once he left? He had no money, no ID, nothing. He didn’t even know a single thing about Yoongi, other than where he worked. He could be a serial killer for all Jimin knew, although his instincts told him differently. He felt his breath leaving him, and he tried to hide his face, specifically his watering eyes. “I can’t, I can’t walk,” he mumbled, leaning heavily against the bathroom sink. “Then I’ll carry you on my back. I’m not as weak as I look,” Yoongi chuckled. “I used to play basketball.” He walked over, turned his back to Jimin, and crouched down a bit. “Come on. We need to hurry.” Jimin wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and hissed when Yoongi reached back to pull his legs up higher on his back for better leverage. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he apologized immediately. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”   They didn’t pass anyone on the way down to the lobby, and when the overnight receptionist gave them an odd look, Jimin forced out a goofy smile and told him Yoongi had lost a bet. They were given an amused shake of the head in response, and told to be careful outside. “You’re a quick thinker,” Yoongi muttered, sounding impressed. “Nice and natural.” It turned out that Yoongi drove a scooter, and he only had one helmet, so he let Jimin wear it. The drive seemed to take forever, but the wind rushing by on the expressway felt so refreshing that he didn’t even want to complain. Soon they were on back roads again, and it was clear that this is why it had taken Yoongi so long to reach the hotel. Low speed limits, stop signs on every block, and one-way streets all over the place. Finally, they pulled into a small block of apartments, and Yoongi killed the engine. Jimin had to be helped off of the scooter, but he refused to let Yoongi carry him again. “Just go slow,” he muttered, and held onto Yoongi’s arm as they carefully headed over to his apartment door, which luckily was on the first floor. Yoongi’s apartment wasn’t big, but it wasn’t a shoebox. Jimin’s first impression, which he accidentally vocalized, was, “You live here?” because honestly it didn’t look like living space. It looked like a recording studio. Multiple monitors and speakers, mics for various kinds of quality, an 88-key keyboard, a soundboard…stacks upon stacks of loose papers and notebooks…and empty coffee cups hidden in almost any space imaginable. “Where do you sleep?” Yoongi chuckled, and pointed up. “Up there. It’s a loft.” “Oh.” He sat down on the small, two-person sofa, which also had several articles of clothing tossed across the back. There was a moment of awkward silence, before Yoongi asked him if he wanted anything to drink. “I’ve got water, soda, beer…um are you even old enough to drink?” Jimin blushed and shook his head. “Wait, how old are you?” “Nineteen,” Jimin said quietly. “Fucking hell,” Yoongi dragged his hands down over his face. “How…how long has this been going on?” “Two years.” Jimin didn’t take his eyes off of the floor. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to be involved, I understand. I’ll leave.” He made to stand up, but Yoongi was faster. “What the hell? I never said anything about not helping you. Where’d you get that idea? Sit your butt down and chill out for a fucking second. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” “It’s a long story,” Jimi avoided. “Yeah, I’d think so,” Yoongi sighed, and checked his watch, blanching at the time. “You don’t need to tell me everything right now, but if I’m to help you, I’ll need the basics. BUT,” he cut off whatever remark Jimin was about to say, “right now you should sleep. I’ll get you a glass of water. You look dehydrated.” Jimin thanked him, pulling his legs up to his chest out of habit, and continued to look around. His own room had nothing to indicate his own personality anymore, so it was almost liberating to see so much of Yoongi’s personality being showcased by the things in the apartment. Yoongi handed him the glass of water, which Jimin polished off almost immediately. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been. Yoongi gave an amused huff. “You want another?” Jimin shook his head, but thanked him again. “You can take the bed. It’s almost time for me to head to work, anyway.” “You’re leaving?” Jimin swung around sharply to look at him, feeling his stomach tighten. “Yeah, sorry, I’ve got an opening shift today,” Yoongi grimaced. “You can stay here and sleep. It’s not a problem, really. Eat whatever you want from the kitchen. I’ll try to bring back some proper food when I get off work at two.” “I, are you sure?” He fiddled with the sleeves of the hoodie. “You don’t even know me. How do you know I won’t steal something if you leave me here on my own?” Yoongi gave him a hard look. “The fact that you’re worried about me not worrying about it just proves that you aren’t the kind of person to steal from me.” Jimin didn’t want to say he was right. Yoongi helped Jimin up the steep ladder-like stairs and pointed out where the light switches were, and where the bathroom was down below. Then he announced that he was off to work or he’d be late. “Yoongi?” Jimin spoke up, voice suddenly urgent, and the other man paused on his descent. “If Chris comes into the coffee shop, pretend you don’t remember him from the other day. He’s going to be freaking out when he finds out I’m gone, and if he makes any connection to you, we’re both in deep shit.” Yoongi snorted. “You think he’s going to be picking up coffee if he’s busy freaking out about you?” Jimin shrugged. “You never know. I’ve never tried running away before. I can’t predict how my dad will react anymore.” “Wait, what?! Your dad? Chris is your dad? What kind of fucked up—” “He’s not my real dad,” Jimin muttered. Even though he’d think that was obvious from the fact that Jimin was Korean and Chris was definitely not. Even though he used to wish he was his real dad. Certainly not anymore. But the habit was still there. “Step-dad?” “Adopted. My real parents died in a car accident when I was four. I can’t even remember them anymore, though.” “Shit.” Yoongi suddenly remembered the time. “Just go to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to think about too much.” Jimin listened until the front door clicked shut, and then he lay back on the comfy mattress. He snuggled into the hoodie, breathing in the calming scent of what he assumed was Yoongi. For the first time in a year and a half, he felt safe. Taking the other man’s advice to heart, he didn’t allow his brain to think about anything, and soon he fell into the deepest and most satisfying sleep he’d had in a long while. Chapter End Notes * English translation of lyrics to ‘Agust D’ (I couldn't help tossing a bit of that in, lol. Did you notice it?) Ready for the Yoonmin?? Sorry, I think this is going to be a slow burn fic. I will think about it a little more before adding that tag if that's how it seems to be going. I promise it won't be too slow, though, because I don't plan for this story to be tremendously long. Also, so far this has all been from Jimin's point of view, but there is one specific scene coming up in the near future that I realized belatedly I'd been planning from Yoongi's POV...so I'll have to rework that somehow so it doesn't lose the very important plot- related stuff, since I prefer this story to be told entirely from Jimin's POV. It would be jarring to suddenly switch POVs, and I don't like when fics do that when it's been one person all along until then. Sorry for rambling! And thanks for reading! ( ***** Chapter IV ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes IV.   It seemed like only a second later he awoke to the sound of someone rummaging around downstairs. Tense, and a little frightened as his brain slowly caught up and reminded him where he was, Jimin slowly crept to the edge of the loft and peeked down into the kitchen area. He let out a sigh of relief. It was only Yoongi. He glanced at the alarm clock—it was already nearly three in the afternoon. Had he seriously slept close to nine hours? He felt…refreshed. It was just a little bit amazing. Yoongi glanced up as Jimin climbed down the steps and joined him in the kitchen. “There you are. I thought it was really quiet in here. Did you just wake up?” he smiled warmly at Jimin’s half-awake appearance. “Yeah. Are you sure you actually went to work? You didn’t just fuck with me by switching the clocks forward?” That earned him a laugh. “Wish I’d thought of that. But no, I did actually slave away for eight hours.” “Did…” Jimin trailed off, afraid of the answer he would get if he asked his question. But it seemed like Yoongi had read his mind. “Did the douchebag come in to get his coffee? Yeah, he did, actually. You were right. But he was on his phone the whole time, texting back and forth with someone. I don’t know if he even noticed me, other than to be rude about the long line. I should have spit in his coffee.” “Probably texting about me.” Jimin leaned against the counter. “Something occurred to me, actually,” he began slowly. “So there were two cameras in the room last night, both filming all night. And I realized that the last thing they would have filmed of me is the guy bringing my unconscious body to the bathroom.” Yoongi frowned, and looked up from the fridge where he’d just placed a carton of milk. “You blacked out?” “Yeah,” Jimin said nonchalantly. “He fucked me over the side of the bed and I guess that was too much for my body to handle after all he’d done already.” He ignored the cringe from Yoongi. “I woke up in the bathroom, so I assume he carried me there.” “So what are you saying? That it’ll look like he did something to you and is trying to cover it up?” “Maybe. But it still won’t make much of a difference if he finds me, or somehow makes a connection to you. It just might keep him off our backs for a little while.” He went on to explain how this had been the first time he’d been hired out rather than just filmed with fellow camboys, so his client would probably be put under a lot of suspicion. He didn’t voice his thoughts about whether Chris was worrying about his safety right now. “But I knocked him out with the umbrella stand, remember? They’re going to know someone else—” “It could have been me, though,” Jimin argued. “I could have fought him after waking up in the bathroom—” “What about the knocking on the door? I knocked pretty hard.” Jimin gave a humorless smile. “I wouldn’t worry about that; I was a bit loud in the bathroom. I bet even you could hear me from the hallway.” He saw Yoongi swallow tightly and grip the counter hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He didn’t look comfortable hearing about Jimin’s sexual activities.   Over the course of the afternoon, Jimin learned more about Yoongi. His full name, first of all, was Min Yoongi. He said it backwards, family name first, which confused Jimin for a split second, thinking that Min was actually his first name. They were both of Korean heritage, which Yoongi admitted to being just a little part of the reason why he had bothered reaching out to Jimin that day at the coffee shop. Jimin mentioned that he’d actually been born in Busan, according to the translation of his birth certificate, but he couldn’t remember any Korean other than the obvious words everyone else knows. Like ‘annyeong haseyo’ and ‘kimchi.’ Yoongi said he’d originally thought Jimin had been kidnapped. Yoongi was twenty-two, done with university—he’d taken online courses—and he was a music producer and underground rapper. The barista-ing was just to pay for bills and supplement the cost of expensive equipment. He couldn’t afford a studio of his own, so he’d turned his apartment into one. Not ideal, but “beggars can’t be choosers,” he’d shrugged. After his little introduction and more thorough tour of the apartment, Yoongi sat Jimin down on the sofa and leaned back in his workstation chair, folding his arms as he stared down at the teenager, who was now in a new set of Yoongi’s clothes after taking a refreshing shower. It was odd wearing someone else’s clothing, but luckily they were nearly the same size. Yoongi’s jeans were a little snug around his thighs, and his shirts were loose on his shoulders, but overall they were comfortable, and Jimin wasn't about to complain. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do,” the older man started. “As much as it’d be nice to just chill here for a while, we’ve gotta be realistic. I know this’ll probably be hard for you, but I need to know what you’ve been involved in if I’m gonna figure out a way to help you.” Ironically, it wasn’t hard for Jimin to recount his past two years. It seemed to be worse for Yoongi to listen to; his grimace had multiplied tenfold by the time Jimin was done telling him about his shitty life. Out of consideration, Jimin tried to refrain from going into too much detail, but there were of course some things he couldn’t avoid. Yoongi looked furious when Jimin told him about Chris assaulting him on the sofa the other day. “That fucker, I’m going to fucking kill him,” he growled, kicking a shoe across the room. “Please don’t,” Jimin begged. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And I don’t want the police involved.” “Jimin, he should be locked up for what he’s done to you.” "I know, but I just don't want to get anyone else involved."  He didn't say that he still struggled to hate Chris. It didn't make sense even to himself, but although he hated what his life had come to, the truth was that seventy percent of the time his life with Chris had been pretty good. There were the times when Chris was an inconsiderate bastard, and then there were the times when he would give Jimin head massages, or make his favorite food, or take care of Jimin when he was sick, like he was the most precious thing in the world. So no, Jimin couldn't bring himself to want to put Chris away.  "Well, what do you want to do? You're on the outside, now." Yoongi took a breath. "Now what?" Jimin was silent. Yoongi was right; he couldn't just camp out at Yoongi's forever. He'd need to get a job, get a place of his own, make a life of his own. There was just one problem, and Yoongi was about to vocalize it. “Do you know your Social off the top of your head?” “My what?” “Your Social Security Number. You have one, right?” Jimin shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t remember it. I’ve only ever needed it once, when Chris took me to get my State ID last year so I’d have something if we needed to fly to another city.” Yoongi's expression didn't change, something Jimin was starting to realize was one of his traits; not showing what he was really thinking. "You need your Social. If you plan on getting a job, if you want to open a bank account, or get an apartment.... You need a Social for all of that." "Shit." "Yeah. I think the only way we’re going to get that stuff is if you steal it back. Do you know where it is in your house?” “Maybe. I assume it’s in his office, or his bedroom, with my birth certificate and adoption papers and whatnot. I guess I could try breaking in when he’s not home.” "When is he usually not home?" "Well, he's got a normal job too, so sometimes he's at the office, but he works from home a lot."  They decided to take a few days to figure out how to go about getting Jimin's identification papers. He apologized to Yoongi for mooching off the older man, but he was shrugged off. "Don't worry about it. I can afford to have a guest for a bit."   They ate Korean-style ramen (or ramyeon, as Yoongi called it) for dinner, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the pan set between them. Yoongi was the most stereotypical bachelor, lacking in proper dishes and utensils. But Jimin found himself enjoying the experience. Growing up with average Americans, he almost never ate ethnic food, unless Mexican food counted (he didn’t think it did), and he’d never experienced cooking food with people his age. When he told Yoongi he’d never tried kimchi, the other man looked like he was nearly having an aneurism. Then he pulled out a Tupperware container of kimchi that his mom had given him recently. His parents lived two cities over, and ran a relatively popular Korean restaurant. “I’ll have to bring you there one day. But first, try this!” He held a large piece of kimchi between his chopsticks, hovering in front of Jimin’s face. Jimin barely had a chance to open his mouth to ask if it was spicy before the fermented vegetables were shoved into his mouth, red sauce all over his lips and cheek. It was slimy and squishy, but crunchy at the same time. And yes, it was spicy, but not overwhelmingly so. Jimin licked his lips and rubbed the smeared sauce from his face, sucking it off his fingers. “Good?” Yoongi was smiling warmly at him, and Jimin felt his insides twist a little. He nodded. “Yeah.” “I’ve never met a Korean who doesn’t like kimchi,” Yoongi smirked. “That’s racist,” Jimin retorted, smiling. “Oh, shut up. It’s not if I say it.” “Why, because you’re Korean?” “Yes, and it’s true.” Jimin just shook his head, and popped another piece into his mouth before taking another slurp of noodles. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy.   Much later that evening, Yoongi announced he was heading to bed. He had an early phone call to take care of in the morning, he said. He tossed Jimin a plain, long-sleeved shirt and sleep pants to change into. Jimin hesitated by the sofa after he’d finished washing up and then brushing his teeth with the toothbrush Yoongi had bought him. He sat down as he saw Yoongi begin to climb up into the loft. “What are you doing?” Yoongi had stopped midway up the stairs and was staring down at him. “I…. Don’t you want me to sleep here tonight?” “Not unless you want to? That sofa is fucking uncomfortable to sleep on. I swear I won’t make any moves on you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” “I wasn’t worried about that. I trust you,” Jimin said quietly. He stood up. “You don’t mind?” “Course not. I’m not about to make you sleep on that thing. Come on up.” After following him up the steps, Jimin watched Yoongi awkwardly settle onto the mattress, scooting over to one side to give Jimin plenty of room. He couldn’t tell if Yoongi didn’t want to be near him because he was uncomfortable with the closeness, or if he thought he was being considerate of Jimin's personal space. He remembered their staged make-out session in the coffee shop restroom, and inadvertently glanced at Yoongi’s mouth. Despite what Yoongi said, Jimin wouldn’t say no to kissing him again. But that wouldn’t be appropriate in this situation. He couldn’t just take advantage of Yoongi like that. There wasn’t even anything to prove that Yoongi would be interested in that, anyway. All of his actions could have been playing along with Jimin, nothing more. Jimin rolled onto his side and tried to fall asleep. He wasn't all that tired after sleeping the day away, and his brain was still working a mile a minute. He kept his breathing quiet and listened to the soft shuffling as Yoongi tried to get comfortable. "I'm sorry ahead of time if I kick you in my sleep," Yoongi muttered into the darkness. "I'm not used to having anyone in my bed, so I have no idea if I sprawl in my sleep." Jimin smiled. "That's okay. I'll try not to be a koala." "What?" "I like curling up around things in my sleep. Chris used to call me a koala." Yoongi didn't respond, and Jimin thought he'd said the wrong thing. But then Yoongi sighed and shuffled one more time. "Goodnight." "Goodnight, Yoongi," he replied, feeling warm in his chest.   Jimin woke up wrapped in warmth, a subtle, calming smell in his nose. He mumbled nonsense words and snuggled closer to the warm body, burying his face into the softer part of the solid mass. When he felt an elbow knock into his shoulder, his eyes snapped open and he realized his face was smooshed against Yoongi's side, just below his ribs, probably pushing uncomfortably into his diaphragm. "Fuck!" Jimin yelped, throwing himself backwards and hitting his head hard against the low ceiling of the loft. He clutched his head, tears springing to his eyes, as Yoongi grumbled and opened his eyes. "What's your problem?" he deadpanned. "The alarm hasn't even gone off yet. Go back to sleep." He smacked his hand against the mattress in emphasis. Heart hammering in his chest, and head throbbing, Jimin silently creeped back to where he'd originally been sleeping. He couldn't get his breathing to slow down, though, and he was starting to feel a little light-headed when Yoongi spoke again, this time more gently, eyes closed.  "I really don't mind, you know. If it helps you to sleep better that way." Jimin swallowed in a tight throat, and cautiously slid across the mattress toward Yoongi. Then, feeling like he was about to dip his hand into a pot of boiling water, he curled up against the other man's side in the same position as before. He was positive Yoongi could feel how tense he was, and sure enough, a moment later Yoongi's arm came down around his back, his long, piano fingers pressing into his shoulder. Jimin let out a shuddering breath, and went limp. "There. Feel better now?" "Mm," was all he could manage, and nodded into Yoongi's side. He let himself clutch a fistful of the other's t-shirt, and soon he was drifting off again.   The second time Jimin woke up, he was more prepared. But he wasn't quite prepared for the panic alarm-like sound coming from Yoongi’s cell phone. He covered his ears with his hands and whined loudly. “Turn it off! Yoongi, wake up!” There was a loud grumble punctuated by several swears, and after more shuffling than Jimin thought was necessary, the room was silent once more. Then, with a groan worthy of a bear waking from hibernation, Yoongi sat up. "Why do I always schedule phone calls this early?" He muttered to himself, and climbed over Jimin to clamber down from the loft. Jimin rolled over and lay flat, staring up at the low ceiling. He listened to Yoongi moving around downstairs, and soon the smell of coffee wafted up to him. He heard Yoongi begin to talk on the phone, and it took him a few moments to realize that he couldn't understand a single word Yoongi was saying. It was bizarre and yet...almost familiar. Jimin felt like he'd heard it before, somewhere, long ago. Curious, Jimin pushed the blankets aside and climbed down. Yoongi spared him a glance just long enough to gesture to the pot of coffee on the counter, beside which an extra mug sat. Yoongi wasn't on the phone; he was on Skype, or some similar platform on his computer. He had headphones on, so Jimin couldn't hear the full conversation, but he could see the person on the other end, who was clearly on the other side of the world, because it was nighttime there. He accidentally made eye contact, saw surprise in the young man's eyes, and quickly looked away, hiding himself in the kitchen. Jimin wished he understood what Yoongi was saying, because it was obvious by his tone of voice that he was answering a question about his mysterious guest. Eventually Jimin realized the call was going to last a lot longer than he expected; they seemed to be working on something together, and he decided that he couldn't hide in the kitchen forever. He quietly sat down on the sofa, which put him directly in view of Yoongi's computer. The man on the other end must've commented on his appearance behind Yoongi, because Yoongi swung around in his chair and said something to Jimin very quickly in whatever language (Jimin was assuming it was Korean by this point) they had been conversing in. Jimin raised his eyebrows and gave Yoongi a confused look. "What?" "Shit, sorry," he switched back to English, "I just said, if you want, you can take a shower first. I'm working from home today anyway, so it doesn't really matter when I get mine." "Oh. Okay, thanks," Jimin nodded. "Is that Korean?" He couldn't help asking, even though Yoongi had already turned back to the monitor. He twisted back. "Yeah. You don't speak Korean at all?" Jimin shrugged. "I think maybe I used to? I dunno. I can't remember anything, but it...feels familiar." Yoongi nodded, and then laughed suddenly, without context. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not ignoring you, Namjoon-ah," he snickered in English. "He's demanding to be put on the speakers so he can talk to you, too," he added to Jimin. "But I already said I can't--" "He speaks English perfectly fine. In fact, I bet that's the only reason why he wants to talk you; to practice." He abruptly switched back to Korean, sounding like he was arguing with 'Namjoon-ah'. After a moment, he sighed and side-glanced at Jimin. "Do you want to? You don't have to if you don't. He's just excited because he says I never have anyone over, so he wants to 'meet' my friend." "But we're not, we barely—" "Yeah, don't worry about that, Jimin," he cut him off. "Here. I feel like you two will get along." He yanked out the headphone jack and set the headphones on the desk. Then he stood up and gestured for Jimin to sit down in his seat. Jimin felt extremely awkward as he sat down, tugging self-consciously at the hem of Yoongi's long shirt he wore. "Jimin, this is Namjoon. Namjoon, Jimin. Enjoy yourselves. I'm getting another cup of coffee." He walked off, leaving Jimin to the mercy of the man on the monitor. "Hi, Jimin! It's nice to meet you!" Namjoon said, smiling until his dimples showed. He had a rather kind face and a friendly voice, so Jimin started to relax a little. "Hi, um, nice to meet you, too," he replied shyly. He was out of practice with meeting new people he wasn’t about to be fucked by within five minutes, and he vaguely recalled how he used to be bad at opening up to new people. It wasn't too bad chatting with Namjoon, surprisingly. He had next to no accent; he sounded almost American. Jimin was surprised to find out his English capabilities were the product of a lot of hard work. He was only a year older than Jimin, and apparently had known Yoongi since high school, when he'd studied overseas for a year at Yoongi's school. They’d been in a Harmony and Composition class together, and hit it off right away. They were both into rapping and music composition, and even now often worked on production projects together despite being half a world away from each other. Jimin did his best to answer questions without mentioning anything from the past two years. He wasn't ready to talk about that with anyone other than Yoongi yet. But the more they talked about normal, everyday life, like friends and hobbies, the more Jimin found himself feeling how much he'd missed out on the last two years of his childhood. He’d coped by blocking everything out, not thinking about the life that had been stolen from him, but bit by bit it was all starting to trickle back into his mind. Jimin leaned forward on his elbows on the desk, resting his chin in his hands as he bit his lip and stared sadly at the computer, only half hearing what Namjoon was saying. But he was pulled from his thoughts abruptly when Namjoon's tone changed, and he asked him sharply in concern, "What happened to your face?" Jimin jerked back in the seat, pulling away from the webcam so fast he almost toppled the chair. His bruises from earlier in the week were healing, but they were just as dark and ugly as ever. He’d used makeup to cover them up for the client, but as soon as he washed his face, they were quite visible again. In seconds, Yoongi was there, steadying the chair. "What?" Jimin asked shakily, the blood draining from his face. He could feel himself starting to panic. "Yoongi," he whispered, reaching out a fumbling hand to grab hold of the older man's sleeve. Yoongi leaned forward to take up the whole camera lens, and said something in Korean. They went back and forth quickly for a minute, and then Yoongi ended the call. Jimin couldn't help it when he burst into tears, the first in such a long time that soon it was like a dam had ruptured within him. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, not even noticing that Yoongi had pulled him from the chair and was leading him to the sofa. Yoongi sighed, rubbing circles on his back. "I don't know what to say to you to make you feel better; I’m really not good at that kind of stuff. But just know that I'm here for you, and you should never apologize for what you've gone through." Jimin felt his anger, his strongest coping mechanism, start to kick in. "Why do care? You don't even know me! I'm just, I'm just a fucked up and fucked over stranger. Why are you letting me ruin your life by becoming a burden? You don't have any responsibility for me. You should just kick me out and tell me to figure it out myself like the whore I am!" Jimin only stopped ranting when he began hyperventilating and black spots appeared in his vision. "I feel sick," he announced abruptly, and promptly threw up the coffee he'd just finished all over Yoongi's lap and some of the floor, just barely missing the sofa. Chapter End Notes Well Namjoon just snuck in there, didn't he? Definitely wasn't planning that, I swear. This won't be the last we'll be hearing from him, either. :) Unrelated: who else has been listening to 'Serendipity' on repeat since it came out??? And who else noticed the "U know, I know"...and gaaah seriously everything in that song could totally be talking about Yoonmin. (But the rational part of me knows it's just a coincidence. ("All this is no coincidence," he sings! lol) And anyway, it was Rapmon who wrote the lyrics, so unless Jimin gave input (I hope he did), and unless Rapmon is being his usual Yoonmin fanboy self (haha like seriously), then I seriously doubt the song has any significant meaning other than to sound gorgeous. Which it does. (But ugh, even the "I'm your calico cat"....calico cat = good luck charm....in BTS Run 21, Yoongi said Jimin was his good luck charm since debut.) OH and I love that Jimin is infatuated with the stars in the video, because he was super into the night sky in Hawaii! He mentioned it multiple times. Whoops. I'll stop now! Had to let that out, hahaha. ***** Chapter V ***** Chapter Notes I updated the tags again. Some have to do with this chapter, some have to do with the whole story in general; things I realized I should probably have tagged from the beginning. I honestly wasn't sure what to refer to the Chris/Jimin relationship, but it's undeniably a touchy subject, so I decided on "pseudo-incest" as the tag to warn people away if that's something they can't handle. I know I don't like reading any fics with actual incest because it makes me super uncomfortable, which is really the reason why Chris isn't related to Jimin by blood. But there's still the mental aspect to think about; Jimin thinks/thought of him as his father, so it really has the same psychologically traumatic effect on him as if Chris was his biological family. Anyway, there's some FLUFF in this chapter, I'm happy to announce!!! Happy reading! See the end of the chapter for more notes V.    After Jimin’s breakdown that morning, Yoongi settled back at his workstation to get some work done. Jimin had nothing better to do, so he wandered around the room for a while, looking at pictures and the random objects strewn about. There was a basketball trophy lying sideways on a pile of papers, possibly acting as a paperweight; the air conditioner-slash-heater was directly overhead, and the papers fluttered in the breeze. When he ran out of things to look at, Jimin returned to the sofa and watched Yoongi work. It was intriguing, honestly. Jimin had always enjoyed his choir lessons and dance class, both with such different styles of music that he'd grown an appreciation for many genres of music. He'd never really thought about how music was created, though.  Yoongi was mostly silent, concentrating on his music. He had headphones on, and occasionally would hum a few bars, move things around on the screen, hop over to the piano…he was active and yet not. Jimin felt bad about bothering Yoongi, so he kept silent for the most part, but occasionally he asked Yoongi about what he was doing when his curiosity was too much to ignore. Jimin was used to not having anything to do, having been locked in his room for hours at a time without any form of entertainment, so he eventually did what he normally had done; going into an almost meditative state, thinking and imagining things, and partially dozing. He wondered what Chris was doing. Whether he was actively searching for Jimin, and if he was, how he was going about it. Jimin knew very well that the circumstances around Jimin’s disappearance would prevent Chris from reporting him to the police. If he thought Jimin had been kidnapped, rather than escaped, he might be going through the network of people they’d collaborated with in order to find him. Luckily Yoongi was completely unrelated to everything and anyone he could possibly know. He vaguely wondered if the video from the hotel had been uploaded online. Chris often had Jimin sit down to watch the edited videos, critiquing and giving suggestions on how to improve their content, pointing out what he'd cut and why. If he thought about it now, compared with what Yoongi was doing, Jimin realized how strange it was that he'd gotten so used to calmly and objectively viewing his videos. As if he wasn't watching himself, but a stranger, an actor in a film. Before he knew it, a few hours had passed, and suddenly Yoongi was standing right in front of him, looking concerned. “Are you all right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just left you with nothing to do.” Jimin shrugged, looking up at him. “I’m used to it. Sorry if I spaced out.” Yoongi glanced at his watch. “Do you wanna go out for lunch? It’ll be nice to get out of this cage,” he grinned. “Sure, sounds good.” Cage was the right word. His legs were itching to walk around. “Pizza okay?” Yoongi knew a great pizza place not too far away, inside a shopping mall. The crust was thick yet just the right amount of crunchy on the bottom, with plenty of flavor even by itself, while the restaurant used fresh tomatoes with spices instead of pizza sauce below the cheese. Jimin was by no means a cheese connoisseur, but even he could tell the combination of mozzarella and another kind of cheese he couldn’t name was a match to die for. “Ugh, I could eat an entire pizza of this,” he moaned around a mouthful, and Yoongi smirked. “Told you it was good. They’re a little on the pricey side, but that’s just ‘cause they make everything from scratch, and use high quality ingredients. I think they grow most of the vegetables themselves.” “What are you, a spokesperson for this place?” Jimin teased, licking grease off his fingers before reaching for another slice. “No, just a long-time patron. Namjoon and I used to come here all the time. We used to hang out with the owner’s son, since we all went to school together, but I lost touch with him after we graduated high school. I assume he’s off doing his own thing, now, like the rest of us.”   Jimin hadn’t realized how much Chris had been like a bodyguard until he wasn’t there. Anytime Jimin went out, it was accompanied by Chris. Clothing shopping, movies, cafes, they’d even once gone to a laser tag arcade together, teamed up together against a bunch of college kids avoiding schoolwork. The thing was, ever since he’d turned eighteen, Jimin’s face had been included in the videos online. And there was absolutely no way of telling if a person waiting nearby in line frequented those kinds of sites in their free time. So as he was leaning against the wall by the water fountain, waiting for Yoongi to get back from the restroom after they’d left the restaurant and wandered the mall a little, he jumped slightly when an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke up from beside him, unnaturally close. He looked up at the man who was practically towering over him, arm coming to wrap itself around Jimin’s small shoulders. “Hey there, baby. You’re even cuter in person. Why don’t we take this somewhere a little quieter?” Jimin frowned. “Or, I could stay right here,” he deadpanned. “Ooh, exhibitionist, are you? Why am I not surprised? After all, you let guys fuck you all the time online.” Jimin tried to pull away, but the man was too strong. His hands were now on Jimin’s hips, about to go under his shirt. “Leave me alone,” he snapped, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Excuse me,” Yoongi’s deep, rough voice abruptly cut through everything. “Would you mind explaining to me why you have your dirty hands all over my boyfriend?” The man laughed, cruelly, but let go. Jimin shifted closer to Yoongi, but kept his shoulders squared and arms crossed. “Your boyfriend? I wonder if you know he’s a cheating slut and a man-whore?” Jimin had to hand it to Yoongi; he certainly knew how to keep his cool. “Whatever he does is none of your business, is it?” The stranger raised his eyebrows. “You mean to say that you don’t care that he’s getting fucked to Hong Kong by a dozen different guys on a regular basis? Wow, that’s on a wholeother level.” Thankfully he left them alone after that, just in time for Jimin to grab onto Yoongi’s shirt in a death-grip. “Fucking perverted bastard,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, and slipped his arm around Jimin’s waist protectively. Jimin tried to ignore how nice it felt there. A few minutes later, as they were almost to Yoongi’s scooter, he turned to Jimin. “I think we should dye your hair. It might help with fewer people recognizing you. Any colors you’d prefer?” “I’ve dyed my hair a bunch of times over the past year, though,” Jimin pointed out. “I doubt it’ll prevent anyone from recognizing me.” “Yeah, but I was mostly thinking that if Chris is keeping an eye out for this frankly eye-catching silver hair,” he reached out to lift a section of Jimin’s fringe, and Jimin once again had to stop himself from thinking about the tingles that ran down his spine at the touch, “he just might pass over the back of your head if it’s, say, black, or brown. Of course, beanies and snapbacks will solve that problem, too, and you’re welcome to any of my hats, but it’s a little inconvenient sometimes.”   They dyed his hair black later that evening, after Yoongi finished working. It had been such a long time since Jimin had had his natural hair color that it felt very strange to see himself in the mirror. He glanced through the mirror at Yoongi, who was running his fingers through the soft, damp strands, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "I'd suggest cutting it, too, but this is probably fine." He dropped his hand. Jimin smiled hesitantly, biting his lip. "It looks okay?" "Hey, no fishing for compliments from me, kid." "I wasn't," he trailed off. "Thank you," he amended.  "Either way, it'll also make it easier for you to get a job with your natural hair," he pointed out. “Most places these days don’t have rules about dying your hair, I dunno, purple, but generally it’s better to wait until you’re actually hired to start going crazy with the colors.”   The next few days seemed to go by quickly. Yoongi was busy with work; he had a big project going on that demanded a lot of his time when he wasn’t at the coffee shop, and they didn’t have much of a chance to discuss Jimin’s next move. The most they decided was that it would need to be in the morning, shortly after Chris went to work, and it would be a quick in-and-out with no distractions or detours. Just grab what Jimin needed, and get out. Luckily Jimin’s house was locked by a code and not a key, so as long as Chris hadn’t changed the code since Jimin’s disappearance, he should be able to get in without having to literally break in. He’d told Yoongi the address of his house so the older man could do a quick drive-by and see if Chris was home at the time they were thinking of going, but Yoongi never seemed to have time. He was constantly on the phone or Skype, speaking in Korean, making Jimin feel even more clueless than he might have if he understood at least what he was discussing. Yoongi barely even slept, sometimes staying up until four in the morning. Jimin felt bad being the only one getting all of the rest, but there wasn’t really anything he could do to help out. Jimin soon became antsy from staying inside constantly, so he managed to convince Yoongi to at least go running with him a few times, dragging Yoongi away from his desk. Yoongi clearly hated exercise, despite seeming to be in okay shape. His endurance was shit, though. They played basketball once in the park nearby, completely forgetting about dinner until their stomachs started growling. Yoongi bought them sandwiches from the deli across the street, and they sat back on a bench, listening to the sounds of the city until Yoongi complained about the cold. Jimin felt sick with guilt when Yoongi ended up pulling a rough all-nighter to make up for the time he lost from their outing. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t be so selfish from then on.   One day while Yoongi was at work at the coffee shop, Jimin pulled out the stool from under the keyboard and switched it on. He carefully played a few notes, not sure if he remembered anything from his choir lessons; occasionally his teacher would have each of the students play a little of the songs, saying that if they understood the accompaniment more deeply, they would understand that their voices were not the only important part of the music. Their voices were nothing more than an additional instrument, working with the piano, with the orchestra. And each instrument was just as important as the next. He was rusty. He couldn’t say he was surprised; it’d been more than two years since he’d played, after all. But after an hour of repetition and mistakes, it began to come back to him. By the end of two hours he’d played one of his favorite dance routine songs by heart. He found the record button on the keyboard and played one more time. Then he stood up, cleared a bit of space on the floor, and pressed ‘play,’ setting the track on loop. He closed his eyes and let his mind flow back to a happier time, and began to dance. There wasn’t much room, so he had to compromise, integrating various furniture and objects lying around into his movements, but he pretended they were stage props in a performance, and soon he forgot even where he was. Jimin lost track of time. So when the front door slammed shut loudly, he startled and whirled around, eyes wide in fright. Yoongi was standing in the entranceway, frozen as he stared at Jimin with his mouth slightly open. His jacket was halfway off, as if he’d suddenly stopped in the middle of removing it. His sunglasses hung loosely from his fingers. Jimin realized the music was still playing as it looped back, and he rushed to turn it off. “I—I’m sorry,” he apologized into the sudden silence. “I know I should have asked before using it. Please don’t, don’t be too mad at me?” Yoongi seemed to come back to himself. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and set his sunglasses on the counter. “Did you play that yourself?” he asked, pointing toward the keyboard. He didn’t seem to be mad, but then again Jimin hadn’t known him long enough to be able to judge his moods very well yet. He kept a lot to himself. Jimin bit his lip, pulling the sleeves of Yoongi’s shirt over his hands, and nodded. “And you dance?” Yoongi strode over to him, putting his hands on his shoulders. He sounded excited, which was a very new emotion to hear coming from the normally chill man. Jimin shuffled in embarrassment. “I used to take contemporary dance classes, and I learned a little piano in choir.” “You sing, too?” Jimin felt extremely self-conscious. “I’m not that good,” he avoided shyly. “Would you sing for me?” He saw Jimin’s hesitation and added, “It doesn’t have to be right now. Whenever you feel comfortable.” Jimin swallowed. “I just, haven’t sang in a really long time. So I probably don’t sound very good. But I can try if you really want me to.” “Just pretend you’re at noraebang,” Yoongi suggested with a shrug, stepping back to give Jimin some room, and sat down on his workstation chair. “What’s noraebang?” Jimin frowned, confused at the sudden non-English word. He jumped when Yoongi burst out laughing. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t speak any Korean. It’s the Korean word for karaoke.” “Ohh. That makes sense. I used to go to the karaoke place downtown with my dance friends when I was still in school.” Jimin wracked his brain for a song to sing. He realized he wanted to sing for Yoongi, but he wanted to get it over with before he thought too much about it and got too embarrassed. Yoongi had turned away from him, probably assuming that he wouldn’t sing right at that moment, when Jimin took a deep breath through his diaphragm and began to sing the girl’s part to a song he knew. Yoongi’s head whipped back around to stare at him. “Don’t wanna know, if you’re looking into her eyes, If she’s holding onto you so tight the way I did before. I overdosed, should’ve known your love was a game, Now I can’t get you out of my brain, Oh, it’s such a shame. We don’t talk anymore, We don’t talk anymore, We don’t talk anymore like we used to do. We don’t love anymore, What was all of it for? We don’t talk anymore like we used to do.”* Jimin trailed off uncertainly, feeling himself blush a little under Yoongi’s gaze. “Wow. Jimin. You have one of the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard,” he paused momentarily before adding, “and I don’t give out compliments lightly.” “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve sang anything,” he said again. Yoongi shook his head. “No, it was beautiful. Thank you.”   A few more days passed, this time with Yoongi unplugging his headphones and asking Jimin to sing a few bars here and there. It was so much fun working with Yoongi, and Jimin felt himself wanting to do it all the time. Every time Yoongi smiled at him, he could feel his insides warm up as if he’d just sipped from a mug of hot cocoa. But he should have known it was too good to last. Jimin started noticing that Yoongi seemed nervous about something. Or maybe nervous wasn't the right word. Awkward? Suspicious? Secretive? He always seemed to be talking with Namjoon in a serious voice on a regular basis now, and Jimin could have sworn they kept glancing at him during their heated discussions. It wasn’t about music, Jimin could tell that much. Yoongi was clearly hiding something from Jimin. But it was almost like he wanted to tell Jimin whatever it was. He was definitely hiding something, but every time it seemed like he was about to say something, he would backtrack and stop himself. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be good. He stopped asking Jimin for singing help as often, and even when he did, the entire interaction felt very businesslike and quick. There were so many more silences than usual. Jimin could tell Yoongi was naturally a quiet person, but even this was strange. It made Jimin feel uneasy. Was Yoongi going to kick him out? It had been several days already; clearly Jimin had overstayed his welcome. Not only was Jimin using Yoongi’s clothes and sleeping in his bed, but also eating his food, taking up his time, and Yoongi kept buying him things he needed. Small, necessary things, like a toothbrush and underwear, but still. Jimin decided that he was going to have to take things into his own hands. He couldn’t continue to take advantage of Yoongi’s kindness like this. He tried to remember Chris’s work schedule, and then one morning after Yoongi left for the coffee shop, Jimin pulled on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, a beanie, and a mask, and pocketed the few dollars of leftover cash from when Yoongi had told him to keep the change after handing him money to pay for their food. He took a bus to his neighborhood out in the suburbs, and kept his hood up as he walked the rest of the way toward his house. When he reached his neighbor’s, he stayed close to the bushes, avoiding the windows. Upon a quick look, it was clear that Chris’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and Jimin knew he never parked in the garage (there simply wasn’t room for a car, what with all of the sports and camping equipment, boxes, and random broken appliances inside). Taking a deep breath, Jimin walked up to the front door and keyed in the passcode. The keypad beeped twice in short succession, the red light turning yellow briefly before turning red again. “Shit,” Jimin bit his lip, before he suddenly realized he’d put in the previous passcode. Chris had changed it only a few weeks ago, and Jimin had nearly forgotten. Steeling himself, Jimin put in the most recent code. This time the keypad beeped slowly twice before a third, higher tone chimed as the light turned green. He heard the sharp click as the door unlocked. He was in. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to calm his breathing. He tugged his hood down and removed his mask. The ticking of the clock in the front hall reminded him that there was no time to lose, so he quickly made his way to Chris’s office. It didn’t take long to locate his State ID, but it took a little more searching to find the folder with his birth certificate (and translation), adoption certificate, and Social Security card. He happened to find a bank envelope with three hundred dollars in it tucked away underneath several folders in a drawer; he took that as well, feeling absolutely no guilt. Chris owed him far more than that after all Jimin had done for him. It had been just over ten minutes. Not wasting any more time, Jimin ran upstairs to his room, grabbed his duffle bag, and began shoving clothes inside. He also took some of the few sentimental items from his childhood, like a small photo album he’d been allowed to keep from before he was adopted, and a few other knickknacks that didn’t take up too much space. Twenty-five minutes had passed since Jimin had entered the house. He had to hurry. He took one last look around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important, and then zipped up the bag. He didn’t hear the car pull into the driveway, or the front door open and close, but he heard the stairs creak as someone walked up to the second floor. Heart in his throat, Jimin dropped the bag, kicked it under his bed out of sight, and turned just as Chris stepped into the room. Chapter End Notes * Song lyrics are from: Charlie Puth feat. Selena Gomez - “We Don’t Talk Anymore” (I wanted him to sing Homme’s “Just Come to Me” but remembered that Jimin doesn’t speak Korean and has no exposure to Korean culture.)   Wow, so much happened in this chapter. I hope it didn't feel too much like an in-between chapter. I loved writing all of their little interactions, and feel like they're each important for different reasons. Oh! And fun fact, because it probably won't have any importance in the story, but the son of the pizza owners is JIN! hahaha I felt pretty clever writing that, while simultaneously laughing at myself for the ridiculousness of the idea. And what's Yoongi hiding?? I can almost guarantee it's not what you're probably thinking. :P Next chapter is just about done (finished writing it last night, just needs to be edited), set to be posted sometime during the week I hope. I will have to warn you that it's not going to be fun. You'll need a strong stomach. So please, please brace yourself. I apologize in advance. Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to comment! I seriously get motivated by your comments, and I've gotten into a few great conversations already. <3 ***** Chapter VI ***** Chapter Notes This chapter is extremely graphic, and will probably make some people uncomfortable. Please check the tags (updated) if you are sensitive to certain topics. Not all updated tags are for this chapter. Some are for future chapters. That's all the warning I'm giving. See the end of the chapter for more notes VI.   Jimin had never seen Chris so furious in his entire life. “I knew you’d be back,” he spat, stepping closer and closer until Jimin had backed himself against the wall. “I guess you never noticed that we have a home security system set up, did you.” He held up his phone, showing Jimin the multiple photos of him entering the house, of him going into Chris’s office, even of him going up the stairs. A moment of complete silence passed, and then everything shot into fast- forward. Chris grabbed him by the arm and wrestled him to the floor, pulling out a length of camping rope from his coat pocket. He wound it tightly around Jimin’s wrists and then dragged him, yelling, up onto the bed, tying the other end of the rope to the headboard. When Jimin successfully landed a hard kick in his stomach, he yanked off Jimin’s (Yoongi’s) shoes, tossing them to the floor. Then he turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. Jimin lay there for a few minutes, gasping for air as he tried to stop his panic from taking over. He’d been so close. If only he’d been five minutes faster, he could have been free. He didn’t realize he was crying until his tears dripped into his ears uncomfortably. “Yoongi,” he whimpered. It’d be hours before the other man would come home that evening to find out he was gone, and even if this was the first place he thought to check—Jimin doubted it, as he hadn’t thought to leave a note—there was no way for him to get to Jimin without Chris catching him. He heard the lock slide open, and the door swung back so hard it banged against the adjoining wall. Jimin scrambled back up against the headboard, arms awkwardly above his head due to the rope around his wrists. He pulled himself into as small and tight of a ball as he could, sitting with his knees to his chest. “Don’t even try hiding from me, you little shit,” Chris snapped, seizing one of his ankles and pulling it down. “What did you think you were trying to pull, running away like that? Where’ve you been hiding all this time? Someone clearly helped you. How’d you manage that, huh? D’you blow one of the hotel staff?” “Stay away from me,” Jimin spat, kicking out and trying to free his leg, unsuccessfully. Then, to his horror, Chris unzipped his pants and climbed onto the bed, straddling him and thus effectively holding down his legs. “D- don’t touch me!” Jimin shrieked, throwing his whole body into trying to shove Chris off. His vision exploded when Chris struck him across the face so hard it gave him whiplash. “Shut the fuck up, Jimin! You don’t have a right to tell me what to do, you little parasite. I’ve taken care of you for years, even after Zoe abandoned us, and for what? For you to run away at the first chance you get, you ungrateful—” he yanked up the hoodie and t-shirt until they were bunched up around the top of his head, threatening to fall back down and cover his face. Soon the jeans Jimin was wearing were on the floor, joining his shoes and followed by his underwear. “No, no, no, please don’t! Please, Chris! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it aga—” A hand closed around his throat and began to squeeze. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” Chris whispered into his ear. “You never have a problem with all those other guys fucking your brains out. How am I any different? I think I deserve something for all I’ve done for you.” Jimin gasped for air when his throat was abruptly released. He heard the sound of a wrapper tearing, and he looked down as Chris rolled a condom onto his semi-erect penis. Jimin’s breathing grew faster as terror seeped through his body. His mind was going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, but everything drew back into sharp focus when Chris pushed in without any prep whatsoever other than the lube he had used to bring himself to full hardness. Jimin screamed and twisted, trying to pull away, but Chris was too strong for him. He held his hips down as he thrust into the teenager, grunting with the effort. Maybe it was because it had been the longest Jimin had gone in a while without having sex or even masturbating, or maybe it was because Chris was purposely being rough, but it hurt. Jimin could barely think. He wasn’t aware of the things he was crying, whether they were words or nonsense. He didn’t even realize he’d been sobbing Yoongi’s name in between cries. “Shut up, will you?” Chris snapped. “The neighbors will hear.” Jimin drew in an especially large lungful of air and let out the loudest scream he could possibly make, his voice cracking halfway through, only to feel his head snap harshly to the side and hit the headboard as Chris smacked him again. This time, Jimin couldn’t fight the darkness, and he welcomed its escape.   Jimin came to in bits and pieces. First his hearing came back. He could hear Chris talking on the phone in another room. He was talking about Jimin, saying something about depositing money, something about a trigger. It didn’t make sense to his foggy mind. Then feeling came back into his limbs, and he almost wished it hadn’t.  He ached inside, his throat felt raw, and his head felt like someone had stuffed a bunch of cotton inside. He had a painful crick in his neck. Finally, he cracked his eyes open. One eye didn’t cooperate as well as the other. He was lying on the bed in the guest room. It seemed like it was late afternoon, although it was hard to tell because the blinds had been drawn. He still had ropes around his wrists, but now they were attached to either side of the bed, with just enough slack for him to pull his arms partway into the air, or towards his shoulders or feet, but not enough for him to touch anything or go anywhere. He realized his ankles were in the same situation; bound securely, but loosely. He was completely naked, and without any blanket or cover, he shivered in the cool air. He pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and looked around the room. One camera had been set up by the foot of the bed, angled to look down at him. He could see that it wasn’t turned on. On the dresser behind the camera, he could see a large, ribbed vibrator with a very long cord that ended in a USB jack rather than a remote. A bottle of lube sat beside the vibrator. Jimin’s stomach grumbled suddenly, and he frowned. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast—coffee and a single piece of toast—and he could feel the hunger pains beginning. He leaned back again, staring up at the ceiling listlessly. He wondered if Yoongi was back from work yet. Was he concerned about Jimin's disappearance, or was he angry that he’d taken his things and disappeared without a note? Jimin missed Yoongi desperately. Not just because he was scared about what would happen now, but because Jimin realized he wanted to be with him. The warmth, the strange tingles he felt around the other man were something he'd never experienced before, but he knew what it all meant. He wasn't naïve. He wanted Yoongi to hold him, to kiss him...to stay up late just to talk to him for hours. But that would never happen at this point.    It was starting to get dark by the time Chris came back, laptop in hand. “Good, you’re awake,” was all the greeting he provided. He set the laptop down next to the vibrator and lube, and then went over to switch on the bedside lamp. He left it on the second-to-lowest setting. He ran his fingers through Jimin’s hair on his way back to the end of the bed. Jimin scowled and shifted away. “Black looks good on you,” Chris nodded appreciatively. “It’s a good thing you didn’t try cutting your hair; the audience loves watching it get pulled when you go down on your partners.” Jimin stomach decided to whine again just then, and Chris grinned. “Hungry?” He shuddered when Chris rubbed his hand over his lower abdomen, and then suddenly tensed. “I need to piss,” he announced sharply. “Can I please use the bathroom?” Chris narrowed his eyes at him. He wasn’t lying, though. “Seriously. It’s been like, six or seven hours since I’ve gone, and the last thing I had was coffee. Come on.” “Fine. Be quick about it, though. And maybe you should take a two-minute shower while you’re in there.” He untied Jimin and followed him to the bathroom. “I’m leaving the door open,” he warned. He stood just outside the door, just in view, as Jimin relieved himself and then took a scalding shower, soaping up and rinsing off in record timing. He hissed in pain as the hot water irritated his swollen face. Chris walked in and grabbed his arm as he was wrapping himself in a towel. “Don’t bother drying off completely,” he said, taking the towel away and hanging it on the rack. “But it’s cold in there,” Jimin protested, shivering already. “I’ll turn on the heat, shut up.” Jimin let himself get pulled down the hallway and back into the guestroom where he was tied up in the same manner as before. He’d lost the will to fight, and just lay there limply, like a marionette. "Too bad about your face, though. See what you made me do?" Chris held up a mirror so Jimin could see his face, even though he’d already seen it in the bathroom mirror. The left side was almost completely swollen, and his bloodshot eye was barely open, rimmed in dark purple. "We'll have to cover it up with a blindfold." Jimin watched as Chris set up the camera, hooking it up to the laptop. He also picked up the vibrator and connected the USB cord to the laptop. “We’re doing a livestream this time. This vibrator is hooked up to the computer, and every time someone deposits money into our account, it will do this.” He pressed a button on the keyboard, and the vibrator buzzed angrily. “Other than that, it will simply be on this setting.” He switched the vibrator this time, and it began to hum. One long hum, followed by two shorter hums, before it repeated. Then everything went dark as the blindfold was wrapped around his head. Chris pushed the thankfully lubed up vibrator deep inside Jimin, as far as he could, causing a choked gasp to fall from Jimin’s lips. Then he stepped back and turned it on. Jimin bit his lip, trying not to react to the sensation. “I was going to show you what it feels like when it’s triggered by a deposit, but I think it’ll be more fun to surprise you on the live feed,” Chris said. Jimin could hear the smirk in his voice. He wanted to kick the smirk off his face.   It didn’t take long for the first deposits to come through. And sure enough, Jimin was startled, a high whine bursting from his mouth. Chris had already left the room, so it was just Jimin, the camera, and the vibrator. Suddenly it seemed like the triggered setting was never ending. There would be a second or two between the strong pulses, and then it would start up again. Jimin had a feeling his viewers were getting excited about his reactions, and kept depositing money to trigger it again and again. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been left there, but it felt like ages. Maybe two hours. He’d already come three times, and was a sweaty, sticky, panting mess. He lifted his hips off of the bed, bucking up into the air pointlessly. He cried out when the vibrator buzzed its strongest yet. Was there another setting Chris hadn’t bothered telling him about? Tears were soaking into the blindfold. “Ugh, f-fuck!” He sobbed, writhing and pulling helplessly at the ropes. “N-no more,” he whimpered, barely loud enough for the mic to pick up. “Please—ah!” He’d stopped trying to hold back his cries, and even in his overstimulated state, he could hear his voice echoing off the walls, a constant rhythm of high gasps and whimpers. Eventually he lost the strength to react with much else other than non-stop trembling, as if he was having a seizure. His last orgasm had not produced anything, his body drained dry. Chris must have been monitoring him from elsewhere in the house, because he came back shortly after and switched off the livestream, carefully pulling the vibrator from Jimin’s body. He untied and removed the blindfold before carrying Jimin to the bathroom. He was deposited into the tub, where Chris sprayed him down with the showerhead. Jimin’s eyes had drifted shut in exhaustion, but they snapped open as two fingers slipped inside him. “You’re so loose,” Chris breathed, voice thick as his fingers poked and prodded his walls. “Whaddya ’spect?” Jimin slurred rudely, no energy to properly form words, but fueled by his anger at the wrongness of his situation. His body remained limp as Chris scissored his fingers and pinched his rim between his thumb and forefinger. Jimin whimpered and sobbed as pain shot through him with every touch to his oversensitive insides. The unexpected sound of glass breaking downstairs made them both freeze. It sounded suspiciously like a window shattering. "What the—" Chris quickly tied Jimin's hands to the handlebar on the shower wall with the belt of a bathrobe and gagged him with a wet washcloth that still had some of Jimin’s semen on it. Standing up, Chris wiped his hands on a towel and shut the door on his way out. Jimin could hear shouting, and furniture being knocked around downstairs. He realized it was Yoongi’s voice that was shouting. It was deep and filled with rage. “Where is he? If he’s hurt, I swear to fucking god, I will kill you, bastard!” There was more loud scuffling, and another crash as something was broken. Suddenly it was quiet downstairs. Jimin couldn't help thinking the worst. What had Chris done to Yoongi? He wouldn't try hurting him too badly, would he?  Chris had been violent, but he wasn't homicidal. Right? He tried screaming, but the gag didn't let him do much more than make a high- pitched whining sound that he was sure wouldn't carry all the way downstairs. He drew on what energy he had left to kick at the wall and floor of the tub, knocking a large bottle of shampoo across the bathroom. It bounced and skidded across the tile. He kicked the other bottles off of the tub as well. A minute later the bathroom door opened, and Chris was shoved inside, a sharp, heavy-duty switchblade at his throat. Yoongi stepped in after him, looking furious. His lip was split, blood smeared across his cheek, and his clothes were rumpled. When he saw Jimin, his eyes narrowed, and the knife pressed harder against Chris’s throat. "Untie him," he growled, kicking the back of Chris's legs. The second Jimin's hands were free, he yanked out the gag himself, spitting onto the floor, and shakily pulled himself out of the tub. Yoongi tossed him a towel with his free hand.  "Are you okay?" Yoongi spoke quickly, almost coldly. Jimin shivered involuntarily as he wrapped the towel around himself, and only nodded. He wasn't okay, but he would be. "Good. Go get dressed. I have some things to discuss with this sorry excuse for a human being." Feeling dread shift unpleasantly in his gut, Jimin stumbled as well as he could back to his own bedroom, where he grabbed up the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, shucked them on, and then dragged his bag out from under the bed. He thanked whatever powers that might be that Chris hadn’t found the bag. He froze when he heard a loud smashing noise, and Chris roaring in anger.  "Yoongi," Jimin breathed, immediately dropping everything and sprinting down the hall, not caring how his body protested at every movement. There was another crash, coming from the guest room. Jimin threw the door open, not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't smashed camera parts scattered all over the floor, broken tripods, and Yoongi leaning over the laptop, still holding the knife to Chris's neck. Yoongi forced Chris to open the folder of videos. He took a photo with his phone of the timestamps beside the thumbnails—clearly focusing on the dates from before Jimin was legally an adult—and then in one click he deleted all of the videos. He went to the trash can on the desktop and made sure the files were permanently deleted. But he wasn't finished.  "Open your porn account," he ordered, poking Chris a little with the knife. "Jimin claims he doesn't want to press charges against you, but if you even think about trying to find him and screw up his life any more, just know that I'll always have proof, and I will be the one to fuck you over."  As soon as they were logged in, he took another photo, and then wrote (one- handed) a quick message to the administrator of the site, telling them that this account had been uploading underage content, and requested the site to delete any remaining videos after the account had been deactivated. Which he did as soon as he took another photo and sent the message.  Jimin wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but one moment Yoongi had his switchblade at Chris’s throat, the next the knife went flying across the room as it was knocked from Yoongi’s hand. Suddenly Chris had his hands around Yoongi’s throat, easily lifting him up and pushing him against the wall. Yoongi couldn’t make any noise other than small gasps as he tried to keep his feet on the ground and pull at the vice grip around his neck. “No! Let him go!” Jimin shouted, leaping forward and pulling at Chris’s arms. Terror spread through his entire body as Yoongi struggled to breathe, visibly losing strength. “Stop it!” Jimin screamed. “Don’t hurt him!” He looked around the room and grabbed the first heavy thing he could find; an old porcelain vase that had never once been moved from its spot on the bookshelf. Without any thought other than to save Yoongi, Jimin swung the vase down hard against the back of Chris’s head, causing it to shatter spectacularly. There was a pregnant pause, and then both Chris and Yoongi collapsed to the ground. “Yoongi!” Jimin scrambled over to him and pulled him out from under Chris’s still form. Yoongi gasped for air, touching his throat weakly. “Are you okay, are you okay?” Jimin was crying, clutching Yoongi’s shoulders. He got a weak nod in return. “You didn’t kill him, did you?” he coughed. “What?” Jimin felt the blood run from his face, and he quickly flipped Chris over. He was bleeding, but not too badly. Luckily the vase hadn’t broken directly against his head, so he’d only suffered small cuts from the spray of broken porcelain. Jimin held his own bleeding hand by Chris’s nose, and let out a sigh of relief when he felt warm air over his fingers. “He’s alive.” “Thank god. I really don’t want to have to hide you from the police, too,” Yoongi chuckled half-heartedly. Jimin threw his arms around Yoongi, breaking down again as his adrenaline began to run out. Yoongi sighed and wrapped his arms around Jimin in return, pressing his cheek to the side of Jimin's head.  "It's okay," he murmured, running his fingers through Jimin's damp hair. He pulled back after a moment. "We should get out of here before he wakes up, though." He pulled them both to their feet, and then went to collect his switchblade from the other side of the room. "Did you get your papers?" "Yeah. Got everything today—yesterday? Before he caught me. I—wait." The security footage, Jimin realized. "We need to delete the security footage. It'll show you breaking in, and fighting with him." Luckily it wasn't too difficult to do that after finding Chris's phone. There was a notification about the break-in, which Jimin opened and deleted, and then he went into the history to delete the photos of himself as well. He deactivated the system just in case more pictures were taken on their way out. They went back to get Jimin's bag, and then with one last look around, Jimin took Yoongi's hand and followed him out the door. Chapter End Notes Oh god. Did you survive that? I’m so sorry. I wanted to cry so badly while writing. *hugs all around!* And yes, even though Yoongi says he wants to kill Chris, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him, he doesn’t actually want him dead. He just wants justice for Jimin. He doesn't have a killing bone in his body. (That switchblade was insurance.) Clearly he doesn't mind blackmailing, though. Smart man. Fun fact: I was totally imagining him in his 'give it to me' MV get up when he broke in to save Jimin. But with brown hair. Because his hair is brown in this. At least right now. *wink wink* If you're wondering whether Jimin's neighbors heard the screaming...sadly, the answer is: 'they weren't home.' But even if they were, he lives in the suburbs where houses have nice yards and trees and all that fancy schmancy stuff...so if they had music or whatever going, they wouldn't have heard him anyway. :( See you next chapter! Don't forget to comment! I'm currently struggling with the next chapter, so any and all encouragement helps. XD PS - I think this is going to be 10 or 11 chapters, but I don't want to put that on the chapter counter just yet. But I've got most of the rest of the story hashed out, just needs to be properly written. PPS - If you aren't in love with Yoongi after this fic, I don't know what I did wrong. ;) ***** Chapter VII ***** Chapter Notes I was going to wait until Monday to post this, but I'm basically stuck at home all weekend because of the typhoon, so I'll probably get a bunch of writing done. ;) And then we'll have the BTS comeback to freak out over!! I’ve been listening to this a lot while writing this story, especially during this chapter. (Also the prologue, actually.) It’s the Interstellar Main Theme, extra extended. https://youtu.be/ UDVtMYqUAyw Important: Tag warnings are in effect for this chapter! I won't say which ones, just be prepared. See the end of the chapter for more notes VII.   They had to stop for gas midway back to Yoongi’s due to how far away Jimin’s house was. Jimin didn’t realize he’d locked his arms around Yoongi’s waist until the other man tried getting off of the scooter and found he couldn’t. It took an extra second to break his grip, and Yoongi helped him slide off from where he’d been sitting side-saddle. Jimin gestured to the bathroom on the side of the building, and waved off Yoongi’s movement to follow him as he headed toward the gas station shop to ask for the key. “Restroom?” is all he bothered saying when he went in. The elderly man behind the counter passed him the key with the obnoxiously large fob in the shape of a palm tree. He kept his beanie pulled low, hood up to hide his swollen face. In the surprisingly clean, but dimly lit single occupancy bathroom, he leaned on the sink after using the toilet and washing his hands. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. His face was sickly, hideous to look at. He leaned down and splashed himself with cold water. The shock felt good. He straightened, watching the water drip down his skin. He imagined it melding into his skin like wax, melting off of his body until he was a new person. But that wouldn’t happen. He would always have this dirty shadow with him, whether it was invisible or not. He pushed himself away from the sink, wiping his hands on the hoodie before heading back to return the key. Yoongi was still standing by the pump, looking annoyed; while Jimin was in the restroom, he’d had to go in to pay with cash when he discovered the machine wasn’t taking credit cards. Jimin sat on the curb as he finished pumping the gas. They didn’t talk at all as Jimin stared off into the darkness, watching the headlights whizz past on the highway. Yoongi went back into the gas station to get his change for the gas, leaving Jimin to scuff at the pavement with one shoe. He didn’t realize he’d been shivering until he felt an extra jacket draped over his shoulders. Yoongi had returned, and even though he was always complaining about the cold, he had removed his jacket to give to Jimin. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said tiredly, patting Jimin on the head. Jimin only nodded, and climbed onto the scooter behind him again. This time as they were riding, Jimin nestled his chin against Yoongi’s shoulder, hands loosely holding onto his hips. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind rush past as they shot down the road.   It wasn’t until they reached Yoongi’s apartment and were kicking off their shoes that they spoke again. “Jimin,” Yoongi started solemnly, “why did you go off on your own? You know we were going to go together.” Jimin put his bag down on the floor, hating how accusatory the words sounded. The reasonable part of his brain knew it was probably only because Yoongi was tired, but the rest of him was too effective at overriding that thought. “I don’t know. You never seemed to have time, and, and,” suddenly remembering exactly why he’d left on his own, he choked slightly as everything rushed back before he could stop it. It felt like a wave was breaking in his face before he could jump it; he saw it coming, but miscalculated its arrival. “I thought you were tired of me. I’ve been so much trouble for you, getting in the way of your work, and I thought you were starting to hate me,” he cried, sinking to a crouch and burying his face in his knees. “I thought you wanted to get rid of me.” “What?” There were immediately hands on his shoulders. “What are you talking about, Jimin? I could never—what made you think that?” “You don’t talk to me anymore. You—I know you keep talking about me with Namjoon, but I don’t know what you’re fucking saying…you barely even look me in the eyes. You don’t have to lie to me. I understand if you hate me. I know how disgusting I am. I would hate me.” He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling slightly as he pressed his knees against his eyes. It hurt, but he welcomed the reminder of what he truly was. “No. Jimin. No.” Yoongi forced his head up to look at him. “I don’t hate you. Far from it. Would I have broken into your house and threatened that bastard with a knife if I hated you? I could have been arrested, or worse, killed, but that wasn’t stopping me. And you haven’t been getting in the way of work. It’s just—” he sighed heavily, rubbing at his face in exhaustion. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His mouth was slightly swollen although the blood was gone, and his neck was a little red still. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, once you calm down, okay? I’ve been putting it off because I was afraid, and I don’t know if that was the right thing to do, but you deserve to know. Just, not this second.” Jimin looked up at him with blurry eyes. “You don’t hate me?” His voice was thick from the tears. Yoongi smiled sadly and reached out to cup the side of his cheek, gently. “I could never hate you, Jimin,” he said with so much feeling that Jimin surged forward before he knew what he was doing, and pressed their lips together. Yoongi gasped against his mouth and pulled away before it could go further. Jimin followed him, clinging to the front of his shirt and trying to capture his lips again, sobbing slightly. He was pushed away again. He felt like a cold vice had clenched mercilessly around his chest. So this is what rejection felt like. "Jimin, no. This isn't what you want." "Yes, it is." He wanted it so badly. He wanted to erase everything and replace it with Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. “It’s not. Please, Jimin. You need to calm down.” “I need,” Jimin swallowed, painfully. “I need…will you h-hold me?” He needed to be close. He needed to be wrapped in a shield of warm protection, or he thought he might start tearing at his skin in disgust. Yoongi let out a breath, and nodded, drawing him into his arms. “Of course.” It was awkward sitting on the floor the way they were, just feet away from the pile of shoes by the door, but Jimin didn’t want to move from his safe cocoon that was Yoongi’s arms. He buried his face into the space between Yoongi’s neck and shoulder, scooting as close as possible as he clung to the other man. “He raped me,” he found himself whispering, so quietly that he didn’t think Yoongi would hear, but when Yoongi tensed around him, he knew he’d been heard. “Jimin—” “When he caught me. He…he tied my hands to my bed so I couldn't go anywhere, and,” Jimin struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “Please don’t leave me alone, Yoongi. Please.” “I’m not. I won’t.” "It, it was the first time he actually w-went that far." His breath kept catching, making him stumble over his words. But he had to get this out, or he knew he'd go crazy. Yoongi's silence encouraged him.  "I used to love him. He was such a cool dad, maybe because he was so young. It was like we were friends. My mom…I don’t know why but she never seemed to be happy during the last couple of years she was with us, so I naturally gravitated toward Chris. I never understood what was really going on until later, when it was too late. "She tried killing herself, you know." Jimin still didn't quite understand why, even though Chris had explained it to him again and again after she'd left. But he supposed there never really could be a real reason that made sense to the people left behind in the aftermath of suicide. He'd always wondered, though, if he hadn't been so busy being a selfish teenager, and paid more attention to her, what things would be like now. He also wondered, now, if there had been something else going on between his mother and Chris that he’d been unaware of that had triggered her depression. He would never know now. He had no way of getting in contact with his mother. She’d cut all contact with them, for what she thought was Jimin’s benefit. Jimin heard Yoongi take a shuddering breath, and when something dripped into his scalp, he realized Yoongi was crying. Why was he crying? Was he crying for him? They sat there for a long while, arms locked tightly around each other, not saying anything. Eventually Yoongi shifted with a groan, complaining about his leg falling asleep. Jimin choked out a wet laugh and sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He pushed away from Yoongi to sit up. “Thank you.” But Yoongi only shook his head, and smiled sadly at him. He helped them both to their feet. “Look, why don’t you wash up and take a nice bath? I’ve got a bunch of herbal bath bombs that have calming and de-stressing effects that I think might help a bit.” That sounded like a wonderful idea. But first, “Can I eat something before that? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” They made quick sandwiches—Yoongi also hadn’t eaten dinner since he got home from work and realized Jimin was gone—and then with a happily full stomach, Jimin let himself sink into the bath Yoongi had drawn for him. Yoongi was right; the herbal bath scents were soothing. Jimin tried to not think about anything at all while he sat in the tub, but it was difficult. His mind kept straying to the events of the day. He didn't realize that he was crying again, or that the water had gone cold. He dunked his head under, wanting to listen to his heartbeat in his ears. The white noise was far more effective in clearing his mind. He thought he heard knocking, and a hollow, distorted voice calling his name. He gasped, accidentally inhaling a little water, when he was wrenched out of the water with no warning. He coughed and gaped at Yoongi, whose face was stricken in terror as he gripped Jimin's arms in an almost painful hold. He abruptly realized what Yoongi had thought he was trying to do. "I wasn't, I wasn't trying to--" "I shouldn't have left you alone for so long."  "Yoongi, I swear. I was just dunking my head. I was under for two seconds." More like thirty, but that wasn't important. "The water's cold," Yoongi changed the subject. "You should get out." He handed Jimin a freshly laundered towel. He turned his back as Jimin stood to get out of the tub, and then asked, "Would you like me to bring you your bag? Or shall I get you some of mine to sleep in tonight?" "I can wear my own."    “Yoongi, how did you know where I was?” They had moved to the living room, Yoongi nursing a bottle of beer, Jimin with a mug of chamomile tea between his hands as he sat cross-legged on the sofa. It felt strange wearing his own clothes again. He’d gotten used to the feel of Yoongi’s clothes. He glanced at the sweatshirt hanging over the arm of the sofa beside him. “I didn’t, at first. I thought maybe you’d just gotten cabin fever and went for a run, so I waited for you to come back, but then you didn’t, and I thought maybe you’d gone to the mall, or gotten lost on the way back.” “The mall?” “Yeah, I dunno, maybe you needed to get something. It seriously didn’t occur to me that you would have gone on your own to your house, since we had already decided to go together. I’d even asked Mrs. Kim at the pizza place if she’d seen you.” “How’d you figure it out, then?” “Ugh, if you can believe it—you remember that douchebag from the other day? The one at the mall.” “Yeah?” Jimin frowned. He wasn’t sure where this was going. He put the tea down and reached out to pull the sweatshirt into his lap, unconsciously feeding a hand through one of the sleeves. “Well, I ran into him in the parking garage, on my way out when I couldn’t find you anywhere. Imagine the chances. He must work there or something. I dunno, and don’t really care. Anyway, unsurprisingly he was an asshole again as soon as he recognized me. He asked me if I knew what my ‘boyfriend’ was up to right now,” he held up air quotes derisively, “and when I rounded on him in anger, he laughed at me and pulled out his phone.” Yoongi stopped talking abruptly and clenched his fists, as if the memory itself was painful. He took a swig of beer. This time, Jimin had a strong feeling about where the story was going. “He pulled up the porn site and showed me the livestream, and then deposited money into some kind of ticker account just to show me what happened when viewers did that.” Jimin flinched. He’d hoped Yoongi would never see any of that. There was something different about Yoongi just hearing about what Jimin was doing, versus him seeing for himself. A hand gently touched his hand, and he looked up. He didn’t see judgement in Yoongi’s eyes, nor did he see pity. He only saw concern and warmth, which was confirmed when Yoongi squeezed his hand lightly before drawing his hand back. “I nearly threw his phone across the garage when I saw how you were being tortured. And he was laughing. Instead, I got right back on my bike and went straight to your house. I’ve never been so glad to have thought to save an address in my phone.”   A little later, as they were lying in Yoongi’s bed in the darkness, the older man spoke up. “A few years ago, I—” he broke off, and then cleared his throat. “I tried committing suicide.” Jimin turned quickly, wishing he could see better in the dark. All he could see was the vague silhouette of Yoongi’s face. “I was around eighteen when I started getting social anxiety, and it steadily got worse. Everything was a mess. I wanted to pursue music in college, and my parents liked me playing piano, but they didn’t see music as a viable income, so we almost constantly fought. In the end I had to withdraw from university because of my attacks, and I locked myself in my room, not talking to anybody. I started drinking to block everything out, even though I wasn’t even old enough to legally buy it. Somehow I was never carded. I tried going to some underground rap performances, and started rapping on stage, but it all came to a head one night when I imagined all of the faces in the crowd were my parents’, glaring at me in disappointment. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I tried taking sleeping pills the next morning.” Jimin reached out, trying to find Yoongi’s hand. He found his wrist first, and gently trailed his fingers down to lace through Yoongi’s. He felt his hand get squeezed tightly. “Luckily, my older brother found me in time, and called an ambulance. My parents took me to the psychiatrist afterward, who diagnosed me with depression and put me on meds, but the meds made me sleepy all the time, and suddenly I couldn’t write any music. None of my friends knew what had happened, or that I was on meds, so they always joked about me sleeping everywhere. They thought it was funny, and cute. I literally could fall asleep anywhere, and I was always complaining about being exhausted. They thought it was just because I stayed up late every night. I was ashamed, and didn’t want to tell them the truth. “I started weening myself from the meds without telling my parents, and threw myself completely into my rap. I wrote about anything and everything going through my mind. Whenever I rapped about what was eating at me, it seemed to be the release I needed. I stopped trying to be something I wasn’t. I just let things happen. I’ll admit, I lost several friends along the way, but I don’t regret it now. The few people I have are all I need, and I’m so much happier now.” Jimin played with their fingers. “I’m glad you didn’t die,” he said softly. There was a moment of silence. Then, “Me too.” Yoongi rolled over onto his side to face Jimin, although that made it harder for Jimin to see his expression in the darkness. “Thank you for saving me,” Jimin whispered. Yoongi didn’t say anything, but he gave his hand another gentle squeeze before letting go. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and rolled over again, his back to Jimin this time. Despite the outpouring of his heart just moments ago, Jimin felt like a wall had just been put up between them. He muffled a sigh and turned his own back to Yoongi, closing his eyes and attempting to sleep.    “No, no, no, no, please!Don’t, no don’t—” “Jimin—” “Please, please, please—Y-YOONGI!” “Jimin! Wake up!” Jimin jolted back into awareness, unable to see much of anything in the dark, but he could just make out Yoongi’s face hovering above his. He let out a sob and reached for him. He’d been blocking it out, but he suddenly remembered how he had called out to Yoongi for help without thinking during Chris’s attack. It took several minutes of Yoongi rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort for Jimin to calm down again. He fell asleep without another word, curled tightly against the other man.   When Jimin awoke in the morning, Yoongi was sitting against the wall to the side of the mattress, head inches from the low ceiling as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up when he heard Jimin shift. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiled. “I didn’t wanna go downstairs before you woke up on your own.” “Mm. You didn’t have to,” he said as he kicked off the blanket, but he was thankful. It was as they were sitting in the kitchen, munching on cereal for breakfast, that Yoongi cleared his throat. “Jimin,” he started, sounding extremely nervous, which was unlike him. “I got offered a job. A proper job, producing music full time.” Jimin broke out into a genuine smile. “That’s great! When do—” Yoongi interrupted him. “I have to move to South Korea. The job’s in Seoul.” Jimin went cold. This was it. Yoongi was abandoning him. Of course, he had every right to, and Jimin wouldn’t dream of holding him back from doing what he loved, but it still hurt all the same. He was silent for a moment. “When do you leave?” his voice was barely audible. “As soon as my visa’s ready. I already talked with my landlord.” “Oh.” Jimin bit his lip. “Congratulations,” he forced out, unable to help how dead his voice sounded. But then Yoongi said, “Do you…want to come with me?” Jimin startled. “What? But I, I can’t,” he pointed out miserably. He’d heard the cliché expression ‘heartbreaking’ before in so many books and movies and songs, but it was only now that he thought he had a better idea of what it actually felt like. The more he thought about Yoongi leaving him, moving to South Korea, the more it felt like cold, splintering cracks were spreading through his chest. “Why can’t you, though?” “I don’t have any money, first of all, and second, I don’t have a passport. You know that. Everything I have is right here,” he hit the folder sitting on the counter which held all of his documents, as well as the three-hundred dollars—of which Yoongi had point-blank refused to accept any of, despite Jimin pointing out all of the expenses he’d been costing Yoongi. “I can pay your way. I have enough saved.” “No. You’re not spending any more money on me, Yoongi,” Jimin protested. “You can pay me back as soon as you get a job. We can even keep a record of it, if it makes you feel better. I promise I won’t charge interest.” Jimin hesitated. “I can’t speak Korean, though.” “You’ll learn. I can teach you.” Jimin was silent, holding Yoongi’s gaze, trying to think past the despair he felt. “Look, Jimin. Do you want to come? Don’t think about all of the extra stuff,” he added quickly. “I mean do you…would you want to come with me if I go.” “Yes, of course I want to. But—” “Then let’s make it happen. You need a passport? We’ll get you a passport. Need a visa? We’ll do that, too. I already discussed all of the possible trip-ups with Namjoon. He’s already started looking into dance studios and schools for you, if that’s what you’re interested in. You can start with a blank slate. Obviously, I’m not asking you to live with me forever. Once you’re back on your feet, you can do whatever you want. I just want to give you this chance.” Jimin suddenly realized what Yoongi had been discussing with Namjoon all this time. They had been trying to help him. He had assumed that they were trying to keep a secret from him, but really, they had just been trying to work out the complications before asking, to make sure it would work. “I…Yoongi, are you sure you want to do this for me? We’ve barely known each other for a couple weeks.” “Well by the time we get you a passport and both of us visas, it’ll be much more than a couple weeks, so you can always back out later.” They stared at each other silently for a moment. So many things were running around Jimin’s mind, it was hard to think. The one thing he could focus on was: Yoongi wasn’t abandoning Jimin. He wanted to bring Jimin with him. For them to leave the country together. “Okay.” Jimin let himself smile. “Let’s do it.” Chapter End Notes Ugh, this chapter was really hard to write. I feel like all of the scenes were so choppy and didn’t connect together as well as usual. There were multiple scenes that had to be written, but stringing them together was such a pain. I really hope it sounded better to you guys! I'm mostly satisfied with how it turned out. It was a mess before, though. Oh, and I know it's horrible of me, but I kind of burst out laughing when I wrote the "You don't talk to me anymore" because Jimin had been singing the "We don't talk anymore" song two chapters ago. That line was unintentional, though. Gaaah they ALMOST kissed! We were so close! But no. Hahahaa. As much as I'd love to do that, Yoongi just isn't......I can't say yet. Anyway, I'm excited for the next chapter, because a bunch of small, yet significant things happen!! As always, thanks for reading! Thanks for the kudos! We passed 100! Don't forget to comment! ***** Chapter VIII ***** Chapter Notes Are you all done freaking out over the comeback yet? I had to work straight through the release and couldn't check until I got home super late since my boss had to drive me home instead of me taking the train because of landslides from the typhoon that hit us Sunday night. And then I freaked out because I couldn't find the album on iTunes at first (I prefer Amazon, but for some reason I haven't been able to buy any digital music since moving overseas). Luckily I eventually bought the album, and listened to it over and over again all night! Jimin's voice is sooooo good in all of the songs. I wish there was a little more rapping; their style feels so different this album--but even the songs I wasn't sure about at first are growing on me. I also freaked at all of the Yoonmin in the MV oh my god hahaha. Anyway, here's an especially long chapter for you! I listened to Zara Larsson's 'Ain't My Fault' loudly on repeat throughout most of second half of the chapter (you can probably guess when, lol). It also reminded me of the fact that Uber exists, which saved Yoonmin from a trip on public transportation this chapter, haha. Here's a link if you're interested: https://youtu.be/eC-F_VZ2T1c See the end of the chapter for more notes VIII.   Yoongi suggested that they wait until Jimin’s face had healed before going to apply for a passport, since he’d need to take photos. In the meantime, they did research on everything they’d need. Yoongi was lucky; his future boss was taking care of his visa application—Yoongi only needed to fill out the paper and send it to him with a copy of his passport and two photos. Jimin, on the other hand, was turning out to be a special case. He’d been born in Korea, but his parents moved to the States when he was a baby. When they’d been killed in the car accident when Jimin was four (he’d been the sole survivor of the crash, thanks to his child car seat), no one had been able to contact his relatives, so he was put into a children’s home, and then into the foster system. When Zoe and Chris adopted him four years later, they had gone through all of the paperwork to make Jimin an American citizen. Thankfully, otherwise this whole process would have been even more complicated. “You know,” Yoongi said as they scrolled through the Department of State website together, “since you were born in Korea, you qualify for dual citizenship.” “I do?” “Yeah, but you need to be living in Korea when you apply for it. But it’s an option you can think about. Just…keep in mind that if you do decide to take back your Korean citizenship, you’ll have to complete military service before you’re twenty-nine.” Jimin blanched. “Military service?!” “Yeah, all Korean men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine have a two- year mandatory military service stint. Even the silly little pop stars. If you wait too long, you get drafted. Big name actors have been pulled out of movie filming due to the draft.” “Why does everyone have to go into the military, though?” Jimin frowned. It sounded like something from the forties or sixties. “You do know they’re technically still at war with North Korea, right?” “Uh,” Jimin felt embarrassed. “I guess?” Maybe he’d missed that part of history class. He watched the news occasionally with Chris, but that was about it. He wasn’t allowed on the computer without supervision, and they didn’t get a newspaper delivered. He wasn't sure he wanted to join the military, whether it was South Korea or the U.S., and just the idea of it scared him a little. A few days later, the swelling had gone down, and Jimin put on some concealer over the last of the bruises so they could go take photos at the drugstore. They had to retake Jimin's several times because he was so tired from lack of sleep, making him appear almost stoned in his photos. "Sweetheart, close your eyes, and then on the count of three, open them really wide," the nice woman taking their photos instructed. "I know you'll feel silly, but I swear it works." Jimin sighed and did as she said, and finally the picture looked all right. Not amazing, or anything to be proud of, but at least he didn't look like a druggie. They thanked the woman (Yoongi turned out to be extremely photogenic, much to Jimin's chagrin; he was finished with the first try) and headed out to grab lunch before going on home. They spent the evening putting together everything he needed for the passport application, and after yet another sleepless night filled with nightmares, they were standing in line at the post office to hand everything in.  "Jimin, you didn't get a chance to finish high school, right?" Yoongi asked quietly as they waited in line. Jimin startled from his dazed state and looked at him.  "Huh?"  "When we get to Korea, you could even enroll in an international school to complete your GED if you want." "I don't know," Jimin shrugged, too sleepy to think about it.  "There are plenty of other things you can do to earn a living that don't involve having a high school diploma, too. Either way, it's your choice, okay? Don't feel like I'm trying to push you one way or the other." Jimin was too exhausted to care about the conversation. Yoongi seemed to notice and dropped it. They successfully handed in the application.  "How long will it take?" Yoongi asked the man behind the counter. "Six to eight weeks, unless you want to expedite it? Are you going somewhere soon?" "Yeah, we're moving overseas because of a job I got, but I have to wait for my visa, so it could be a couple months. Not really sure. Never done this before." "Well you can pay to have it expedited, or you can wait for it like everyone else. As long as you didn't lie about anything on your application, and everything's in order, there shouldn't be any delays." Yoongi looked at Jimin, the cogs in his head almost visible. He seemed to come to a decision, and turned back. "Let's expedite it. He needs to apply for a visa as well, but he needs a passport for that. How much extra is it?" He pulled out his credit card.   Maybe it was the nightmares eating away at his sleep, maybe it was the change of weather as autumn began to send out its long, chilly fingers into the final days of summer. But Jimin woke up one morning feeling like he’d been run over by a truck and dunked in a pot of boiling molasses. He could barely lift his arms or legs, and just opening his eyes made him want to close them again and sleep for a year. He could feel sweat dripping down his body, his shirt and pants clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He turned his head, realizing Yoongi wasn’t there. He sighed and closed his eyes.   Someone was shaking him. Now they were patting his face, and touching his forehead. He mumbled out an irritated groan, but didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Jimin. Come on, wake up. Have you been like this all day?” He slit his eyes open, a dark, blurry shadow hovering over him. He closed his eyes again. “Shit.”   A thin, cold object was pushed into his mouth, shoved uncomfortably under his tongue. He whined, trying to push it away, but a pair of cool hands held it firmly in place until it beeped and was removed. “Fuck.” A cool, wet cloth was placed on his forehead, bangs pushed back out of the way by gentle fingers. He leaned into the touch, and the fingers continued slipping through his hair as the cloth weighed heavily on his forehead. He scrunched up his face when the cloth became too warm, and he pushed it away. It returned a moment later, cool again. He sighed, and everything faded into gray.   Jimin frowned when a loud voice broke into the silence of his mind, but he didn’t fully return to consciousness. “I don’t know what to do, Eomma. Can you please—yeah, yeah. Uh, a hundred…two point seven. Ani, I can’t take him to the hospital. It’s complicated. …Ugh, thank you. Love you. Mm hmm. Right. Bye.” It went quiet again, and he heard the steps to the loft creak slightly. A hand touched his cheek. He slipped away.   “Ai,” he heard a woman’s voice call him. Child, his brain supplied from somewhere. “My sweet child,” he heard, the meaning of the once unintelligible words flowing from the deep recesses of his memory. “Eomma,” he whimpered, clutching at the woman’s soft hands. “Eomma,” he repeated. Tears leaked down his cheeks. There was a low gasp off to the side, but the warm arms drew Jimin closer, cradling him against the soft chest. “You’re okay,” she whispered in those special words again, stroking his hair.  Jimin felt himself disappearing once more.   Much later, Jimin woke up to the sound of computer keyboard clicking. He didn’t make any noise as he opened his eyes, simply staring up at the ceiling. He realized he was down on the sofa, nestled amongst blankets. He didn’t remember climbing down from the loft, though. Had Yoongi moved him, somehow? He couldn’t imagine Yoongi having the strength to carry his dead weight down those steps. He remembered the woman’s voice from his dream. It had felt so real, but her voice hadn’t seemed familiar. Only her words. And there was clearly no one else in the apartment. It must have been just that, a dream. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Jimin blinked and turned his head. “Hi,” Yoongi said. “Hi.” Jimin sat up with a groan. He had no strength. “Careful. You’ve been sick with a bad fever for the past three days. I tried feeding you some soup and rice congee, but I doubt it was very sustaining.” Jimin frowned. He felt shaky, and weak, but otherwise his mind was wonderfully clear. “How are you feeling?” He smiled slightly. “Like I need to piss, real bad.” Yoongi cracked up, and stood. “That’s ‘cause I loaded you full of water while you were out. You need a hand to the bathroom?” “Uh,” Jimin pushed himself to his feet, grasping Yoongi’s elbow momentarily before letting go. “I can make it, I think.” “’Kay. Just yell if you fall into the toilet,” he teased. “Shut the fuck up.” “Ah, you have no idea how good that sounds to my ears.” Jimin flicked him the bird and then made his way to the bathroom.  He didn't fall into the toilet. But it was exhausting standing upright.      "I’m really glad you’re feeling better, because I've got a show on Saturday night." They were chilling downstairs, Jimin wrapped in a thick blanket as he sat on the sofa, watching Yoongi fiddle around on his computer as usual. "A show? What do you mean?" "There's a rap show in Koreatown. Well, there’s other stuff, too. But it’s the rap I’ll be there for. I'm performing. It's been scheduled for more than two months."  "Cool. Wish I could see that.” Jimin hadn’t thought about the fact that Yoongi probably did this on a regular basis. It was hard to imagine the other man rapping. Somehow even though he’d been working on music nearly every day, Jimin hadn’t heard him rap yet. “I wanna see you rap someday." Yoongi gave him an odd look. "Why can't you? I can get you in free. It's not a problem." Jimin felt strange, wanting to say, Because I’d be alone when you’re on stage, so he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Are you sure?” “Of course. You can hang out with my friend Hobi while I’m on stage, and then I’ll join you guys right after so we can all enjoy the rest of the night.”   Jimin had never been to a club before. He got the feeling that Yoongi would just tell him not to worry about it, but he couldn’t help it. He’d seen movies. People always dressed a certain way at clubs. Should he dress differently? Should he style his hair? But then again this was a rap show. Didn’t people dress grungier at those kinds of things? Or was that rock gigs? He said there’d be other stuff, too, though. It was Koreatown, so maybe Kpop? Jimin didn’t know anything about that, although he knew enough from when he was in school that it was the new cool thing. He was lost in the middle of these thoughts when a weird smell hit his nose. He sat up straight, looking around. Was that…bleach? It smelled awful, so much so that his temples started hurting. He got up from the sofa. Yoongi had disappeared into the bathroom quite a while ago. Jimin glanced at the clock. A very long time ago. He walked over to the bathroom door, where the smell was stronger, and knocked. “Yoongi? Are you…okay? What’s that weird smell? It’s giving me a headache.” The door opened, and a wave of the chemical smell hit him full in the face, making him cough. Yoongi stood there with goop in his currently orange hair, reeking of chemicals. Jimin’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing?” “Bleaching my hair, what does it look like?” “You’re not supposed to do that yourself! You’re supposed to get it professionally done! You’re either going to turn into a carrot-top, or you’re going to get bleach poisoning. I can’t believe you right now.” “Oh, chill out, I’ve done this before. I know what I’m doing. I’m on my third application right now. As soon as this one is washed out, I’ll do a fourth application and then be done with it.” “What color are you aiming for?” “What, you don’t want to be surprised?” “I’m already surprised enough as it is.” Luckily, Yoongi did not turn into a carrot-top, and he also didn’t get bleach poisoning. Although Jimin was sure he had from the fumes alone. When Yoongi came out of the bathroom ages later, hair damp but starting to dry, Jimin’s eyes widened. His hair was nearly white, it was so blond. “I can’t decide if it makes you look older or younger,” Jimin blurted out, earning himself a scowl. “’The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” “I mean, both are good!” Jimin felt himself blushing. “It suits you.” Yoongi shrugged. “I sure hope so, ‘cause I don’t have time to change it.”   In the end Jimin decided to wear a simple, black, long-sleeved t-shirt tucked into the front of his loose, heavily ripped jeans with his favorite black combat boots. He put a little wax in his hair just to make it not lie as flat as usual, pushing it back from his forehead. He knew it made him look older whenever he did that. He put his usual earrings in, and then that was it. When Yoongi saw him, he nodded in approval. “Nice and simple, I like it. I admit, I was worried you were gonna be one of those guys who has to dress up all fucking crazy just to impress people at the club.” “I don’t need to impress anyone,” Jimin shrugged. A wide grin split across Yoongi’s face. “That, you don’t.” He clapped him on the back. “Come, on, let’s get going. The Uber’s almost here.” Yoongi planned to drink, and unfortunately even though Jimin wouldn’t be drinking, he also didn’t have a license. When they were almost to the club, Yoongi turned to him. “Oh, I almost forgot. When we’re at the club, you need to call me ‘Suga.’ My rap act is Agust D, but my stage name is Suga.” “Why do you need two names? Why not just pick one?” “Because I used the name Suga first, back when I was in high school, doing YouTube videos to get my music out, but when I started getting more serious about producing music and all, I switched to Agust D. But you can’t really get rid of a name everyone knows, so I just treat it like my actual name.” “Suga,” Jimin tried it out, and then grinned. “I kinda like it. Even if it does sound a little like a stripper name," he teased. “Shut up, oh my god.” Yoongi feigned hitting him, and Jimin cackled, throwing his hands up in defense. It felt so good goofing off with Yoongi like this. It was like every time they did, a little bit of his old self washed away, leaving a clean, brighter person peeking out from within.   When they got to the club, Jimin was given a yellow bracelet—underage—and Yoongi was given a green one—over twenty-one. Jimin felt embarrassed having his age made so obvious, and kept trying to pull his sleeve down over the bracelet, which Yoongi definitely thought was funny. “Seriously, no one gives a shit,” he pointed out. It’s just so the bartenders don’t get in trouble for sneaky teenagers. Plus, there are a lot of native Koreans who come here, and might be used to drinking back in Korea, but then they come here and it’s illegal.” “Why, what’s the drinking age over there?” “Twenty, but because of the way they count their ages, sometimes it’s more like the legal drinking age is 19.” “Ah.” Jimin nodded, as if he knew what Yoongi was talking about, even though he didn’t. Korean counted their ages differently? What did that even mean? But now was not the time to be asking in-depth questions like that. He glanced around, feeling the beat of the music pulse in his stomach. It looked like there was just a DJ on the stage at the moment, playing typical club music; the heavy, sexy kind that Jimin usually saw in movies and TV shows. It made him want to close his eyes and dance, but Yoongi had other ideas. “Come on, let’s go find Hobi.” Yoongi pushed him through the crowd, hand on his shoulder to lead him. “The man of the hour has arrived!” Jimin heard him before he knew who to be looking at. All of a sudden, he’d been pushed to the side as Yoongi was swallowed by a hearty hug—and by hearty, he meant filled with painful-looking slaps to the back. Grimacing, Yoongi dislodged himself from the light brown haired man who had accosted him. He had a narrow, distinctly attractive face with a long nose. He was wearing a simple red t-shirt and black jeans, with a beanie on his head. “Whoa, who’s this, Suga-hyung?” He noticed Jimin hovering close to Yoongi’s side. “This is my friend Jimin,” Yoongi introduced simply. “Jimin, this is Hoseok, although most of his friends call him Hobi.” “Nice to meet you…is it okay if I call you Hobi?” “How old are you?” “Huh? I’m, uh, nineteen? Almost twenty. Why?” “So I’m your hyung.” Jimin looked to Yoongi for explanation, but just got a shake of the head. “I’ll explain another time. Hobi, he doesn’t speak Korean or know anything about the culture, so you’re just going to have to deal with him not calling you ‘hyung.’” “How does that not bother you?” “What? I’m used to it. I didn’t grow up in Korea like you did. First generation American, right here,” he said sarcastically. “Anyway, Hobi here is also a rapper, but he’s not performing tonight.” “Yeah, just here to enjoy the show and give Agust D my support, as always!” he declared cheerfully. “And let out some moves on the dance floor, of course.” “Oh,” Yoongi put his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck, pulling him forward a little. “Jimin also dances. You guys can let loose together. Just not during my performance. I demand absolute attention.” He smirked. Jimin found himself staring at Yoongi, a little surprised at the way he was acting. It was like…he was exuding swag, but in the most endearing way. Jimin fought against the smile that was trying to break from his lips. “Suga-ssi,” a man with an ear set in and a black “STAFF” t-shirt appeared behind them, and Yoongi turned. “It’s just about time to head back.” “Right, thanks.” He swung briefly back to Jimin and Hoseok, squeezing both their shoulders. “See you guys later. I can leave Jimin with you, right, Hobi?” “’Course. We’ll have loads of fun without you, hyung.” “Oh, fuck you,” Yoongi smiled, no bite to his words. With one last glance at Jimin, he headed off backstage. Once Yoongi was gone, Hoseok began talking Jimin’s ear off, mostly telling him stories about Yoongi that Jimin was sure that the older man wouldn’t appreciate being common knowledge. It only took about five minutes for Hobi to declare Jimin was “adorable,” and then he continuously tried to make Jimin nearly fall over himself with laughter. The lights flickered suddenly, and then a siren noise started up. At first Jimin tensed, worried, but then he realized it was coming from the speakers, and was accompanied by a heavy beat. A moment later, ‘Agust D’ walked out on stage, face shadowed by his white snapback, mask stretched between his ears under his chin as he spit out lyrics at a speed Jimin couldn’t believe. Yoongi’s stage presence was incredible, sending chills down Jimin’s spine. He was sure he had goosebumps up and down his arms. It took him half a minute to realize that Yoongi wasn’t rapping in English, although there were English words thrown in here and there, like “you can’t control my shit” and swears galore. A hand tapped his chin, and he flinched, pulling away. “You were drooling,” Hoseok teased, winking at him. “Was not,” Jimin countered, folding his arms. He felt his cheeks warm up, and was thankful for the dark lighting. “Hey, what you say we do exactly what Suga-hyung told us not to do?” “Huh?” “Let’s dance!” Hobi dragged him closer to the stage, where people were either nodding to the beat or dancing hip hop style. Jimin felt a little lost at first; he’d never danced to anything like what Yoongi was doing. But then he let the beat seep into his body, and he began to move slightly to the music. Nothing crazy, just enough for the people around him to give him and Hobi some space. Jimin kept his eyes on Yoongi the entire time, and when their eyes finally connected, he felt a surge of heat shoot through him. The rapper held his gaze for a few seconds, a sideways grin on his lips before looking away over the crowd. The rest of the performance was even better. Agust D performed three songs in all, and Jimin absolutely loved the third one. It started off with an almost classical feel, with piano and violin, and the rapping steadily crescendoed throughout the song until it reached a peak where Agust D was nearly shouting the lyrics. Jimin couldn't understand the words, but he could feel Yoongi's emotion.  "Sick, huh?" Hobi shouted in his ear, startling him. He nodded, at a loss for words.    As much as he enjoyed watching Agust D perform, Jimin was happy when Yoongi returned to them, dripping in sweat and full of adrenaline in his eyes.  "I need a drink!" he exclaimed, dragging them over to the bar.  Jimin sipped at the virgin piña colada Yoongi ordered for him while he and Hobi drank beers and shots before they switched to more sophisticated drinks. He felt a little envious of them, wanting to share in the buzz they were obviously feeling. Everything was so sharp and clear for Jimin. He tugged his sleeve over the yellow bracelet and reached for Yoongi’s glass of gin and tonic while the other man was paying attention to something Hoseok was saying. He yelped when a hand clamped down on his wrist before he could even touch the glass. “What do you think you’re doing?” He looked up guiltily into Yoongi’s surprisingly sharp eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.” “Come on, Yoo—I mean Suga,” Jimin caught himself just in time. “Just a sip?” Yoongi seemed to be considering it, but then Hobi held out his own glass of tequila. Yoongi snatched it before it could reach Jimin’s lips. “I said ‘no,’” Yoongi snapped, slamming the glass down on the counter. It spilled a little. Hoseok snorted, “I wasn’t going to let him have much. Chill, Suga-hyung.” “You’re no fun,” Jimin sighed, drawing his hand back and looking down at a stain on the counter. “This is boring being the only one—” he stopped when he felt a cool glass against his lips. His eyes shot up to Yoongi’s face. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning. “One sip, okay? Mine’s not as strong as straight-up tequila.” Jimin took a second before he reached up to support the glass from the bottom. Their fingers brushed, and even though they’d certainly touched more than that before, Jimin felt his heart racing. He tried to push the feeling aside as he tipped the glass up a little and let the clear liquid flow into his mouth. Yoongi immediately pulled the glass away and took a much larger gulp from it, nearly finishing it off. Jimin let the drink swirl around his mouth briefly before he swallowed, grimacing slightly at the burn. “Good?” Hobi broke into his reverie, and he half nodded, half shrugged. “Kinda hard to tell from that baby swallow,” Jimin smirked, and got a kick in the shins from Yoongi. “You’re not getting any more.”   Jimin and Yoongi stumbled back into the apartment in the early hours of the morning, laughing as Jimin struggled to keep Yoongi from losing his balance. He’d ended up drinking more than Jimin had expected he would, and now he was laughing at everything Jimin did. If Jimin wasn’t so tired, he’d find it amusing, but right now he just wanted to climb into bed and sleep. “Seriously, Yoongi,” he pouted, trying to get Yoongi to take his shoes off, “if you could just—” Yoongi burst out laughing, doubling up, and grabbed onto Jimin’s middle to keep from falling over completely. He reached up blindly to try patting Jimin on the head, but only got as far as his cheek. “Stop trying to be so cute,” he fake- frowned before dropping his hand and using both arms to clamp onto him. What? Startled, Jimin didn’t do anything for a second, just staring down at the man wrapped around his waist. “Ah, shoes,” Yoongi said suddenly, and somehow managed to kick them both off without untying them. One hit Jimin in the shin, and he protested in pain. “Careful!” “Sorry, Jiminie,” Yoongi grinned, not sounding sorry at all, and then threw his arms around Jimin’s shoulders. This time Jimin felt a different kind of tension compared to the one he felt at the bar. The way Yoongi was acting made him uneasy. “Let’s, let’s get you to bed, Yoongi,” he said, voice a little shaky as he led the other man through the small apartment. He knew there was no way he’d get Yoongi to wash up or brush his teeth in this state, so he just helped him out of his jacket and took off his cap before shoving and pulling him up the steps to the loft. Once on the bed, Yoongi tried pulling Jimin down with him, but in a panic, Jimin yanked his arm away, breathing heavily. They stared at each other, Yoongi through hazy but intense eyes, and then Jimin grabbed one of the blankets and bundled it into his arms. He nearly fell as he scrambled down the steps. He felt better once he was on the ground. He took a gulp of air, and then went to change and brush his teeth.    Jimin woke up to the sound of a loud groan coming from the loft. His eyelids fluttered, and he pulled the blanket closer around him, keeping his entire body buried in his tightly curled up position on the sofa. It was much colder downstairs than up in the loft. “Ji…Jimin?” He heard the thud of a hand coming down hard on the loft banister, and then a sharp intake of breath. “Oh shit; fuck, what did I do?” The steps creaked a few times before a much louder thud hit the floor before shuffling over to him. A hand pulled at the blanket just a little, and a hand touched his head. “Jimin?” He shifted, keeping the blanket around him, but opening his eyes and looking up. “Are…you okay? Why are you sleeping down here?” Yoongi grimaced, and Jimin wondered if it was due to a hangover, or something else. “I didn’t, I didn’t do anything to you, did I?” Jimin shook his head. “You didn’t.” “Then why…” Yoongi trailed off. He gestured to the sofa. “You didn’t do anything, but you,” Jimin buried himself a little deeper into the blanket, muffling his voice, “you were a little more…friendly than usual,” he ended up saying. “I thought it was better to sleep down here.” “God I’m so sorry.” “’S okay.” “The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable, Jimin. You shouldn’t have had to sleep down here. I’m really sorry. And I won’t let myself get carried away like last night again.” “It’s fine,” Jimin insisted, finally sitting up. He didn’t want them to be awkward, and he was scared that Yoongi would pull away from him even more than he already was. “Last night was really fun. Thank you for bringing me along.” Yoongi looked like he had caught onto Jimin’s diversion, but he allowed the digression. “You had fun?” “Yeah, it was awesome. You’re really sick when you rap on stage. But seriously, Yoongi, are all your friends Korean?” Yoongi sputtered, and turned to head toward the coffeemaker. “’Course not. You should meet my friend Tony. You’d like him. But you probably only come up to his elbows,” he added, and smirked at Jimin’s offended expression. “I’m not that short!” Chapter End Notes This chapter was SO MUCH FUN to write hahaha. (I suppose I should tag Hobi now?) It was a roller coaster of emotions for me, though. Guuh the scene with Yoongi's mom got me bad. I imagine Yoongi being one of those kids who speaks in a combination of English and Korean with his parents. And Jimin...spoke Korean! It's in there, somewhere. The trauma from his accident locked away most of his memory from before he was four, but we got to see a little trickle of it. He just needed some mother's love. ;_; (Btw, I don't speak Korean, although I am trying to learn. So if the Korean I use is wrong, PLEASE TELL ME so I can fix it. I will love you forever. hehe) I'm aiming to have another chapter up before/by Saturday JST, because I'm going on vacation for a week and probably won't be able to write/ update while I'm out of the country. If I can't make it by Saturday, I'm SO SORRY in advance. (I have so much to do before I leave, though. *dies*) Thanks for reading, and don't forget to comment! Until next time! ***** Chapter IX ***** Chapter Notes I'm back! I had basically no time to myself during the entire week I was on vacation, because I ended up babysitting my adorable nephew nearly every single day, hahaha. So it wasn't quite the relaxing time I expected, but I still had a good time. It was a little strange being back in the States, though. Had a few reverse culture shock moments, although luckily nothing too crazy. But I missed working on this story SO much that I wrote on my cell phone on my flights, and found secluded areas in the airports to write on my computer...and I just couldn't wait to update. (And now I'm wide awake because of jet lag...) So this chapter isn't quite as long as I wanted, because I cut it off before the next important scene, which I'm still trying to decide where to place, so this'll give me more of a chance to make sure it's all perfect before posting. :) See the end of the chapter for more notes IX.   There wasn’t much for Jimin and Yoongi to do while they waited for the passport and visa to come back, respectively. It wasn’t a big deal if Jimin couldn’t get a long-term visa before they moved, although it would be more complicated (and frowned on) to get the visa from within Korea. He had ninety days as an American, but there was a special visa he could get as a Korean descendent, which was what they were aiming for so he could stay longer if he couldn't find a job in time that offered him a work visa. Jimin brought up the subject of last names one day while chatting with Yoongi. His birth certificate had his original surname, Park, but it had been changed when he was adopted. Jimin wanted his original name back now that he had no reason to have a connection to his adopted family. Unfortunately, changing names would be too complicated at this point, so Yoongi told him to wait until they got to Korea, and then he could decide whether he was going to switch citizenship, because everything would be a lot of paperwork and waiting, which they didn’t have time for right now. It was disappointing, but Jimin understood.   Yoongi began teaching Jimin basic Korean. It was a little bit of a mess. Yoongi had never tried teaching anyone a language before, and other than the Spanish classes Jimin had taken in school, he didn’t consider himself very good at learning languages. Yoongi seemed convinced he would pick it up, though. “I just don’t understand where your confidence is coming from,” Jimin complained one afternoon, leaning over his notebook with his head propped up on one hand. A headache was blooming between his temples. “I know it’s in there somewhere,” he said stubbornly, tapping Jimin’s skull. “We just have to figure out how to get it out again.” “It doesn’t work that way, Yoongi.” “Yoongi-hyung.” Jimin groaned. “Yoongi-hyung.” He wrinkled up his nose. “Why do I have to add that to your name every time? It’s so annoying. It feels like I’m calling you ‘Mr. Yoongi.’” Yoongi snorted. “It’s not ‘Mr.,’ it’s more like ‘older brother’ or ‘big bro.’” “I don’t want to call you ‘brother,’” Jimin exclaimed, horrified and just a little bit disgusted with his train of thought. “It’s not—Jimin, no, it just means I’m older than you, that we’re both guys, and that we’re close. You wouldn’t call a stranger ‘hyung,’ Usually you can only drop honorifics if you’re really close, and both agree to drop them.” “Okay, then can we agree to drop them?” Jimin put on his best puppy eyes. “I like calling you just ‘Yoongi’ best.” Yoongi visibly swallowed, looking almost sick for a second, and then looked away from him, focusing on the book. “When we’re alone it’s okay. Otherwise you should practice.” Jimin frowned. He suddenly felt like he was missing something. “Okay, fine.”   “Hey, Jimin, my mom invited us to dinner at their restaurant on Tuesday, is that okay with you?” “’Us’? Your mom knows about me?” “Uh, yeah? It’s kind of hard to avoid mentioning the fact that I live with someone when I’m talking with my family. My parents have known since the first week you were here.” “Oh. How much do they know?” “Just that you’d been in an abusive adopted family, and I got you out. That’s literally the extent of the details I gave them. It’s not lying, but I didn’t think it was my business to tell.” He shrugged. “So should I tell them yes?” It felt strange having his situation summed up in such an easy way. It was so, so much more complicated, and so much more traumatic than that. But Yoongi was right; it wasn't technically untrue. Jimin nodded. “Sure. Are you sure it’s okay if I go?” “They invited you, too, pabo.” Jimin knew what that meant, now. In addition to useful phrases, and learning how to read and write, Yoongi thought it was important to know insults and swears. Of course, this meant that he often used them on Jimin when he wanted to tease him. Jimin felt a little childish when he used them back, but Yoongi seemed to get a kick out of it.  “Why Tuesday, though? Why not the weekend?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows, multiple things crossing his face, all of which Jimin couldn’t really read. But then the older man just shrugged. “I dunno, that was the day she said. Maybe it’s easier for them on Tuesdays. I expect weekends to get busy at the restaurant, you know?” “Oh, right. I suppose.”   Jimin found himself getting nervous about meeting Yoongi’s family. He kept fidgeting and talking about the most random things, just to take his mind off of it. “Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi said finally, exasperated. “They’ll love you.” “How do you know that? I’m leeching off their son and—” “No you’re not, stop saying that.” “I am, though,” he insisted. “I should try to find a job.” “That’s a good idea, but not right now. I’ll help you look for places in a few days.” “But still, I just…what am I supposed to talk to them about? And, will your older brother be there? How many people do I have to meet?” Yoongi took Jimin’s face between his hands, squishing his cheeks slightly, and shook his head back and forth as he gave Jimin a kind but mocking look. Jimin squirmed, pouting. He felt like a little kid getting made fun of. “Relax. It’ll just be my mom and dad. My brother couldn’t get off work for the evening. It’ll be just like eating in a restaurant, except we don’t have to pay. Don’t think so much. I promise you they’ll be nice, and I know you’ll enjoy yourself.” He released Jimin’s slightly pink cheeks and ruffled his hair before turning away. Jimin closed his eyes momentarily to calm himself, but not for the reasons Yoongi said. Every time the other man touched him, or looked at him in a certain way, he thought he was going to suffocate from the intensity of the emotions rushing through him. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his feelings, but Yoongi didn’t seem to feel the same way. He was warm, and friendly, and didn’t mind being close, but he didn’t give off any indication that he wanted anything more than friendship from Jimin. He only let Jimin sleep curled up against him because of the nightmares, but recently Jimin was sleeping through the night more often. Surely it was only a matter of time before he got tired of the cuddling.   Tuesday rolled around, and they bundled up before hopping onto Yoongi’s scooter for the forty-minute drive. Fall had arrived, quite suddenly, and although it wasn’t cold enough yet to see their breath in the late afternoon air, they still needed proper jackets. Yoongi lent Jimin one of his leather jackets, which Jimin immediately fell in love with, much to Yoongi’s amusement. Yoongi, on the other hand, just tossed on his black and gray camo field jacket and pulled on some gloves. Jimin wrapped his arms tightly around Yoongi’s waist, sitting closer than was probably necessary, but it was one of the things he liked about riding the scooter with Yoongi. He could pretend, for a little while, that there was something more between them.   They had to park a little way’s away from the restaurant because of crowded street parking, and Jimin shivered as they headed up the sidewalk. The restaurant wasn't small, but it wasn't too big, either. The hostess led them over to a four-person table in the far side of the dining area, more secluded than the rest of the restaurant. She told them to wait a few minutes and left them to head back into the staff area. Jimin looked around while they waited. The decorations were somewhat typical of what he’d assume a Korean restaurant looked like, but with the addition of family photos. Yoongi grabbed his wrist to keep him from standing up to look more closely at one when he realized who was in the picture. “Oh my god, I wish they would take these down,” he groused. “But I want to see your pictures! Is that you in middle school?” He pointed to a photo of a pair of boys, clearly on a fishing trip. The older of the two was holding the fishing rod and tackle box, the younger had his arms folded, with an expression of utter disgust on his face. “Oh, them? I don’t know them. Maybe they’re distant cousins.” “Don’t listen to his lies, ai,” Jimin heard behind him. He turned and experienced the strangest feeling of déjà vu. He assumed this was Yoongi’s mother, but he’d never seen any photos of her. She had the same smile as Yoongi did, though, and her eyes were warm. He wasn't sure why, but she was also younger than he had assumed she would be. Of course it made sense, though; Yoongi wasn't that much older than he was. And he knew that his own birth parents had been pretty young themselves when they had died.  After touching Yoongi's blond hair sadly with a comment about how he was going to eventually lose all of his hair, the woman stopped by Jimin's seat and smiled at him. Then, to his surprise, she leaned down and embraced him tightly. "Jimin, dear, it's so good to see you again. You look so much better now. We were worried for a bit." "What?" Had they met before? She looked startled, and then turned to Yoongi with an expression of disappointment. "Yoongi! You didn't tell him?" Yoongi looked guilty. “Tell me what?” Jimin cut in. Yoongi’s mother put her hand on his shoulder. "I helped take care of you when you were sick," she explained. Jimin suddenly remembered the woman's voice from his dream. If Mrs. Min were to speak in a whisper, the voice could be the same. He tried to recall everything he heard from that time, but it was all so fuzzy.  "I, you," he started intelligently. Mrs. Min seemed to take pity on him. "It's okay if you don't remember meeting me, Jimin. You were in a bad way. I'm just happy you're doing better. Now," she turned to Yoongi, "we have most of the food ready, if you're hungry now. Did you want a drink tonight, Yoongi?" "Eomma, I'm driving," Yoongi deadpanned. "But I'll have a Coke. Jimin? What do you want?" Jimin blinked. They had moved so quickly from one subject to the next that he felt like he had whiplash. "Um, I'll just have the same?" Yoongi's parents sat down on the opposite side of the table after they had brought the food out. Jimin found a bowl of what looked like seaweed soup set in front of him. “Happy Birthday!” Jimin’s mouth dropped open. “What?” What day was it? He knew it was Tuesday, of course, but was it already October 13th? “How did you know?” Yoongi grinned. “I’ve been looking at all of your IDs so much lately, it was kind of hard to miss,” he teased. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I didn’t think it was that important. I didn’t expect anything.” He really hadn't. Yoongi had no obligation to do anything for his birthday. “What, but it’s your 20th birthday, dear!” Yoongi’s mom exclaimed. “It’s a very important birthday.” “Yeah, it’s your ‘coming of age’ birthday,” Yoongi pointed out.  Jimin frowned. "'Coming of age'?" Yoongi explained about the importance of turning twenty in Korea, and his father explained about seaweed soup being eaten on birthdays. It was strange to think that for the first four years of his life, this had been his culture. It felt so foreign now. The rest of dinner passed smoothly enough. Jimin had assumed Yoongi's parents already knew about the job offer, until Yoongi suddenly broke the news to them. Yoongi's father seemed pleased, congratulating him right away, calling it a "real job" and saying that he was proud of him. Yoongi's mother, on the other hand, didn't look as happy. "You'll be so far away," she pointed out sadly.  "Well now you'll have more reason to visit Korea." "You know very well how expensive tickets are, Yoongi." "And Jimin? What is he planning to do after you leave?" Mr. Min wondered aloud. "He's coming with me." Yoongi's father raised his eyebrows and glanced between them, but didn't say anything. Mrs. Min, however, seemed pleased.  "Oh, that's wonderful. You can keep an eye on each other," she said. They spent the rest of dinner discussing all of the details of the job and the move, and the plans to get Jimin back on his feet. Both of Yoongi’s parents were encouraging of Jimin going back to Korea. They seemed to think it would be the very best thing for him to do. Finally, at the end of dinner, a small tiramisu cake was brought out for everyone to share. It was from a bakery, rather than homemade, but Jimin didn't care. It was delicious just because he was sharing it with everyone. It all was so much more than he could have ever expected, and he was overwhelmingly touched. They had taken him into their care without expecting anything in return. The walk back to Yoongi's scooter was silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Jimin could feel it as tangible as the foggy air hovering over the ocean not far away. Jimin couldn't sort his thoughts. For every kindness given to him by the Min family, it reminded him of the unforgivable things done by his own family.  He didn't cry. But just as they arrived at the scooter, he put a hand out to stop Yoongi as he was reaching for the keys. He didn't say anything, and he didn't drop his hand from the older man's sleeve.  Yoongi seemed to know what he needed. Without a word, he drew Jimin into a hug. Jimin buried his face in his neck, letting out a long breath of air. They were standing next to the scooter, just a few feet away and outside of the halo of light from the street lamp. They stood like that for a long while, Yoongi's arms tight around him.  Jimin wasn't sure how long it had been when Yoongi finally pulled back a little. He took his hand off of Jimin's back and used it to lift Jimin's chin gently, unsure. Then he leaned forward to kiss him softly. Jimin wanted to say that he was expecting it; looking back, all the signs were there. But at that moment, he was startled. He didn’t move. Then again Yoongi didn’t move, either. It was nothing more than pressure against his lips, which disappeared as Yoongi pulled back. But this time Jimin was prepared. He pulled Yoongi closer and went in for a second. It was sweet and slow, and quiet. When they finally broke apart, they only smiled at each other in the darkness. They still didn’t talk as they got onto the scooter and rode back to Yoongi’s apartment. Jimin felt suddenly shy as he kicked off his shoes in the space by the door. He didn’t know what to say to Yoongi, who was also silent. He could feel himself getting more and more nervous. Finally, he couldn’t take the tension anymore, and he hesitantly grabbed for Yoongi’s hand. “Yoongi?” They couldn’t just ignore what had happened. Yoongi looked at him, squeezing his hand back slightly. “Are we? I mean, do you…is this okay?” The both of them had known how Jimin felt for a while. But was Yoongi just trying to comfort him, or was it more? Yoongi pressed his lips together, as if he was thinking. “Is it okay with you?” Jimin could only nod shyly. “Then it’s okay with me.” He looked up at Yoongi. “Really?” “Really.” Later, when they climbed into bed, Yoongi gestured for him to sleep close. He wound their fingers together, and kissed him softly for quite a while before they finally settled into the pillows to sleep.   Other than the fact that there was a constant warm tingling feeling in his chest, Jimin didn’t feel like that much had changed the next morning. Yoongi was as grumpy as ever, needing his coffee before starting any kind of conversation with him. Once that was taken care of, he sat down with Jimin at his computer and began helping him look for part time jobs. Yoongi didn’t think it was a good idea to immediately jump into a full time job, not to mention they didn’t have an exact deadline for their departure. “But you don’t want to even mention that you’re planning on moving, because then no one will hire you. You don’t have any obligation other than two weeks’ notice to quit usually, and depending on how useful of a job, you could even wait until the day of. But I don’t recommend that.” A few days and many kisses later (Jimin discovered that while Yoongi didn’t really do lots of touching, he seemed to really enjoy kissing; and Jimin wasn’t complaining one bit), they managed to find a job at a Korean convenience store. Yoongi suggested it would be good for getting more language practice without overwhelming him, because he was still in the States.     Jimin didn’t sleep well the night before his first day. It would be the first time he was really on his own in more than two years; he’d been constantly accompanied by Chris wherever they went, and since breaking away from ‘home,’ he’d nearly always been with Yoongi. But this time, he had to do it on his own. They’d gone out to buy him a cheap cell phone, just a talk and text phone, added onto Yoongi’s plan for the meantime, and Yoongi said he was working from home the first day, so if Jimin had any problems, he’d be available. “I feel stupid for being nervous like this,” Jimin confessed to him as they lay together that night. “I mean, it’s just a job at a convenience store. And I’m an adult.” “Yeah, but you have good reason to feel that way,” Yoongi pointed out. “Don’t put yourself down for your instincts trying to keep you safe. I’m worried for you, too, but I know you can handle yourself. Let’s stop worrying about it, okay?” Yoongi dropped Jimin off at work the first day, but assured him that he’d need to get there on his own on any days when he was working at the coffee shop. He seemed to understand that Jimin didn't want to be babied, and Jimin greatly appreciated Yoongi making an effort to push him out of his comfort zone, to become more independent. When Jimin went into the store, there was a tall young Korean man behind the counter. He had three piercings in the ear facing Jimin, and his hair was dyed an auburn color. Taking a settling breath, he walked up to the counter. “Hi,” he started. “I’m Jimin. Today’s my first day.” The other man straightened up and grinned. “Hi Jimin,” his voice was much deeper than Jimin was expecting, “I’m Taehyung.” Chapter End Notes I think that's as good of a place to end as any, right? ;) Taehyung is here!!! They properly KISSED! Yay! I've been trying to figure out when it was the right time. Now seems to be it. And, and, Jimin's not a teenager anymore, lol. Maybe that's what was unconsciously holding Yoongi back? (Nah, that's just a coincidence. :P ) PS - Did you all notice how Yoongi definitely got a bit turned on when Jimin said he liked calling him just Yoongi? I know a bunch of ppl like to write him with a 'hyung' kink, but I feel like you're even closer if you don't even use any honorifics at all, because that's got to be a situation where the older of the two has to feel comfortable enough with the younger to allow that kind of "disrespect." But even in public, they've still got to use polite terms, which is why sometimes BTS gets scolded by (obnoxious) fans, for using casual form during some videos...and why they refer to each other as "name-ssi" in interviews and broadcasts a lot of the time. Btw I spring-boarded off of my own experiences with work visas (I live overseas from my home country) during this chapter, so a lot of the things they talk about/deal with are actual, real things that can happen when getting a visa, lol. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! I love comments! They give me life. ***** Chapter X ***** Chapter Notes Sorry for the long wait! Life got in the way, and it also really doesn't help that the 'a' key on my laptop keeps sticking, so I have to be especially careful to make sure that all of the 'a's are actually there. -_-; On that note, I'm pleased to announce that this chapter is especially long! Twice as long as usual, actually. I wrote the second half of it more than two weeks ago, but then had a lot of trouble with the first half. There was a scene intended to be in this chapter that I pushed to the next chapter, changing the order of events a little...I hope I don't regret it, haha. I'll admit now, Taehyung is really difficult for me to write. I hope I did him justice. I'm not as invested in keeping up with him as much as I am with Yoongi and Jimin, so that's probably why. Btw, while writing this chapter, I had BTS's 'Ocean' on repeat for most of the first half (not kidding, I just listened over and over. I LOVE that song) and then this during the second half: 'Epic chillstep collection 2015' https://youtu.be/fWRISvgAygU Enjoy!! See the end of the chapter for more notes X.   Jimin quickly discovered that Taehyung’s English wasn’t the best, although he was certainly trying, and every once in a while he would spew out phrases that were much higher than his normal speaking level. Jimin couldn’t help but burst out into surprised laughter when Taehyung told him to “Shit down,” in the break room to fill out his paperwork. Jimin felt a little bad, and quickly apologized, covering his mouth to hide his smile, but Taehyung seemed to be a good sport and laughed as well. “Sorry, I don’t speak English,” he said, once he’d stopped chuckling. It seemed to break the ice a bit, and suddenly Jimin didn’t feel as awkward around him.  “How old are you?” he asked Jimin later, as he led him over to the coffee machine. Even though Taehyung had only been at the store since sometime in September, it seemed he was going to be the one doing most of Jimin’s training. Their manager occasionally gave extra input, or helped when Taehyung struggled to explain the more complicated things, but mostly it was just Taehyung and Jimin. “I just turned twenty. How about you?” Taehyung’s eyes lit up. “I’m a ‘95er, too! I am twenty in December. That means we’re chingu.” “Friends?” Jimin translated, even though it didn’t really make sense. Taehyung shook his head. “No, uh, yes! I mean…you’re not my hyung. Same…same age.” “Ah. I think I understand.” Taehyung was in his third year of university, studying fashion design and photography. He was only in the U.S. for the rest of the semester, though, and would be back in Seoul by Christmas. Jimin was hesitant to say that he, too, would probably be in Seoul by then. If Taehyung mentioned it to their boss without knowing it was a secret, he didn’t want to get in trouble. But Jimin was happy that he would know someone besides Yoongi (and Namjoon, he supposed) when he got to Korea. He also didn’t want to jinx it if something went wrong with his passport and visa. Even though working at a convenience store wasn’t the most exciting of jobs, Jimin found himself relishing in the newfound freedom. He had to force himself to shove aside his shyness to talk to the customers, and having different people to talk to was doing him a world of good. He still was nervous about initiating conversation, but he was getting better at responding when they got a particularly chatty customer. Most people were just rushing in and out, though, which was a relief. A week after starting the job, Taehyung invited him to hang out after work. Jimin’s initial reaction was refusal and suspicion, but before he could even voice these thoughts, the rest of his brain kicked in. He realized he was being ridiculous. Of course Taehyung had innocent intentions. Even though it’d only been a week, Jimin could tell Taehyung was a good, honest person. Sometimes he was honest to his own detriment, but that was besides the point. “Uh, what did you want to do?” Jimin asked instead. “I, um, I need to let my,” he paused, wondering what to call Yoongi, “my roommate know first.” Taehyung raised his eyebrows, but didn’t point out how strange Jimin knew that sounded. “I don’t know. I thinking just anything?” “You mean just do whatever? Like um…” “Noraebang!” Taehyung suddenly exclaimed, excited. “Do you like noraebang?” It took Jimin a second to remember that noraebang was Korean for karaoke. He and Yoongi hadn’t talked about noraebang since that one conversation ages ago. “Yeah, that sounds like fun,” he said. On his break, he texted Yoongi from his new phone. He missed his old smartphone from back in high school, but he wouldn’t dream of complaining about the simple phone to Yoongi. Once he had his own money, he could buy his own smartphone. ‘Taehyung invited me 2 karaoke after work 2nite,’ he typed. He kept changing his mind before he added, ‘do u think I should go?’ He hit send before he could backtrack, a weird feeling in his stomach. He was relieved when a reply popped up almost instantly. Yoongi must have had his phone on him. ‘If you want to go, you should go. It’s good to let go every now and then.’ A second text came a moment later. ‘As long as you feel safe.’ ‘I trust him,’ he sent. ‘Have fun, then. Call if you need a ride home. I’ll be around.’ Jimin locked the screen and put his phone away. It was odd talking with Yoongi over text. He sounded so casual, so detached, that sometimes it felt like he and Jimin weren’t really dating. Were they dating? They hadn’t actually gone on any outings that Jimin would consider dates, although they had done this all in the wrong order. Honestly the only thing that had changed between them was that now they kissed a lot at home. They never held hands in public, although that could have had more to do with the fact that they were both men.  Yoongi just never seemed to show affection like Jimin was expecting. Granted, it wasn’t like Jimin had much experience in the romance department—none at all, if he was being honest with himself—but even so, he’d seen the way friends had dated. And whatever he and Yoongi were was nothing like that. Even just calling Yoongi his ‘boyfriend’ felt weird, wrong. He frowned and shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that. His phone chimed to let him know break was over, so he sighed and tossed his phone back into his tiny locker and returned to work.   Taehyung just about had a stroke when he found out that Jimin could sing. He clutched at his heart dramatically and babbled in Korean at Jimin for several moments before he realized Jimin couldn’t understand a word he was saying. “So, so amazing! I’m so, impres-sed! Oh my god!” Jimin laughed, embarrassed, and playfully hit him. “Shut up. You’re not bad yourself. I wish I could hit deep notes like that.” They ended up spending three hours in the noraebang booth, dancing and singing, and making funny videos of each other. Taehyung was very much on top of every trend, and he quickly figured out that Jimin was way behind on the trends. He was like a walking meme, Jimin thought with amusement. Taehyung loved doing impressions of scenes from movies and vines, and he showed Jimin an app that allowed them to record themselves mouthing to famous vines. Jimin’s stomach hurt by the end of the night, he’d been laughing so hard. Taehyung lived on his university campus, on the other side of the city, which meant he had to take a bus back, so Jimin texted Yoongi for a ride home around twelve thirty. The only reason he didn’t feel guilty for the late hour was because he knew Yoongi would be awake anyway, working on his music. When Yoongi showed up, Jimin was standing alone just outside the bus station. “Where’s your friend?” was the first thing Yoongi asked when he took his helmet off. He frowned, looking around. “He had to catch the last bus back to campus,” Jimin said as he got on the scooter behind Yoongi. He pressed close, quickly dropping a kiss on the back of Yoongi’s neck. It was late enough that no one was there to see. He felt warm despite the chilly autumn air; his happiness was pushing everything away. Jimin didn’t voice his thoughts until they were back home, wrapped in blankets and each other, in the darkness of Yoongi’s loft. He smiled as he pressed his cheek against the older man’s shoulder. “Yoongi.” “Jimin.” “I had a lot of fun with Taehyung.” “That’s good.” “I really like him.” Yoongi was quiet, and Jimin lifted his head, and poked Yoongi’s cheek. “Not like that. Pabo.” “Hey. Don’t call me pabo.” “Why not? You call me pabo all the time,” Jimin whined. “No. I just mean, I finally have a friend. It feels nice. I forgot what it was like to have friends,” he ended on a whisper. Yoongi shifted and pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head. “Well, it sounds like Taehyung is going to be a good friend for you. I’m glad.” Jimin fell asleep content that night.   Jimin's Korean started improving quickly from Taehyung's help. Whereas Jimin didn't like speaking with Yoongi in Korean because it made him feel like a child, he didn't have the same aversion to using it with Taehyung, who usually preferred Korean. He'd get excited whenever Jimin said something correct, and his enthusiasm was infectious. Yoongi almost never praised him for his progress, just nodding and moving on to the next grammar point...and honestly it sometimes squashed his motivation. It wasn't that he needed a reward; he knew he needed to learn the language before getting thrown into the country with the intention to stay long-term. That knowledge didn't make it any easier, though. Jimin spent more and more time with Taehyung. They didn't always have the same shifts, and they often would hang out in the city if Taehyung wasn't in class or working.  One Saturday night, Taehyung invited Jimin to go bowling with a group of friends from his university. Jimin was having a good time until one of the girls started flirting with him.  “Hi. I’m Angelina,” she said as she sat down near him while he was taking advantage of the wait between turns to eat his food. “But you can call me Angie.” “I’m Jimin,” he responded politely, smiling at her briefly. "So, which college do you go to?" She asked, leaning forward toward him so the front of her shirt dipped and he had a clear view of her cleavage. Jimin kept his eyes on the plate of fried chicken he was eating. "I'm not in school right now. I'm taking some time off for personal reasons," he said vaguely. "Oh, must be nice," she smiled, scooting closer by pretending to reach for her soda on the table--which didn't in fact call for any extra effort to reach. “I bet you have lots of free time, then.” Her bare knee touched his (why did he have to wear his torn jeans?), and he quickly pulled his leg away.  “Not really,” he avoided. “I work.” She was quiet for a second, and he realized she was staring very hard at his face, as if she was examining it. “What are you, Japanese?” Jimin raised his eyebrows, patience growing thin. “I’m American,” he deadpanned. “Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “I mean are you Japanese-American, or I dunno, Chinese-American?” “Does it matter?” he asked. He glanced up at the TV scoreboard. “Oh. I’m next,” he pointed out, and jumped up, glad to have an excuse to escape. He slid around the table from the other side and left her sitting alone. If he thought bowling would get the girl off of his back, he was seriously wrong. “Oh my god, you’re so good,Jimin!” she exclaimed, coming up beside him after his strike, once everyone had finished congratulating him. She swept her long, black hair up over one shoulder as she reached out to squeeze his bicep without his permission. He frowned and shifted away. “Wow, do you work out?” “Yes. Can you stop fucking touching me, now? I’m taken,” he finally ground out. He took a deep, calming breath and went to stand over by Taehyung and the other guys. He didn’t check to see Angie’s reaction, but he heard the mutter before he was out of earshot. “What a dick.”   The evening that Jimin’s passport finally came—early, thanks to the money Yoongi forked out for him—Jimin danced all over Yoongi’s apartment with the soundboard app Taehyung had introduced to him and which Jimin had promptly downloaded onto Yoongi’s tablet. Yoongi laughed, watching him pop and lock and grind against various furniture, sticking his tongue out obnoxiously. “We’re going to Koreaaaaa,” Jimin sang, spinning and sliding over to where Yoongi was sitting on his workstation chair, feet up on the sofa armrest. “YEEEAAH, BABY, we’re going to KO-RE-A!” Jimin threw a leg over Yoongi’s legs and continued dancing as obnoxiously as possible, lifting his shirt up a little and throwing his head back with the music. He yelped when Yoongi suddenly brought a leg up to knee him in the crotch. “Hey!” he protested as he stumbled off of his legs, nearly falling onto the sofa. “Why would you do that? Don’t you like lap dances?” Yoongi dropped his feet to the floor and swung back to his computer. “That wasn’t a lap dance,” he scoffed. Jimin frowned, switched the beats to a more erotic tone, and set the tablet down on the desk. Then he spun Yoongi’s chair back to face him, and climbed onto his lap. “You want a real lap dance?” Jimin asked, voice low. He threaded his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, pulling him up slightly to kiss him quickly but wetly. “I’ll give you a lap dance.” Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Jimin was going for, but he was sure it wouldn’t take much to change it. Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, letting the music flow through him and begin to move his limbs. Then he opened his eyes again and caught Yoongi’s gaze. He didn’t let it go as he rubbed himself against the speechless musician, running his hands up and down his own torso, nearly pulling his shirt off before letting it drop, taking Yoongi’s hands and placing them on his hips as he grinded down in wave-like motions. He could see that the older man was breathing heavily, and he didn’t miss it when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Finally Jimin couldn’t take it anymore, and stopped dancing abruptly. He dove down and captured Yoongi’s lips, drawing a low groan from him. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the strange combination of happiness and tension Jimin had been feeling lately. Whatever it was, soon their usual kissing turned into something much more intense and heated. Jimin broke away for a second, panting. “Yoongi,” he pulled another kiss from him, “I want you. I want you so badly.” Yoongi yanked him close, kissing him so hard that Jimin could barely tell where his mouth ended and Yoongi’s began. But then he pushed Jimin away, and put a hand on his chest to brace him, keeping him from getting closer. He took a few deep breaths through his nose, closing his eyes momentarily. He reached over to turn off the tablet. The abrupt silence sent an almost tangible wave through the room. Jimin’s ears rang with the absence of sound. “Jimin, I want to be honest with you; I’ve only had sex once.” He looked really uncomfortable as he said this, looking away and scratching at his neck. “I was just out of high school—you know, around the time I was having all those problems—and it was with a girl. I really didn’t enjoy it very much. And I’ve…never really felt comfortable enough to go farther than kissing and touching with the few guys I’ve tried getting close with.” Jimin nodded, realizing the gravity of the situation and forcing himself down from his high. He pulled Yoongi’s hand away from his neck and laced their fingers together, just gently holding his hand in his lap as he listened. “I think, I’m not sure, but I think maybe with guys I was afraid to be the one not in control, but because I was always hesitant to make the first move, nothing ever happened. It’s more like I don’t like not knowing what was going on. I don’t know if that even makes sense?” “Yeah, I think I get it. You want to be the one to initiate things, but you aren’t sure when you’re comfortable to do that.” “I guess. I’ve never liked seeing guys who are all up in your face about being in charge of things, though, so I guess I don’t exactly put that on display most of the time.” “I think you do, though. Not in that obnoxious way, of course, but,” Jimin paused to figure out what he was trying to say, “you make me feel like I can rely on you or feel safe with you. I think that’s a different way of being in control. It’s not like you boss people around, or talk down to people. I think it’s your maturity that feels so…strong? To me.” When Yoongi gave him an odd look, he added, “That’s a compliment, I swear. I just don’t know how to explain it properly.” Yoongi laughed. “Yeah well anyway. I just wanted to warn you, in case you were expecting anything amazing from me. You’re probably not going to get anything amazing. But…I do feel like I could try with you.” Jimin felt his heartbeat pick up slightly. He unconsciously licked his suddenly dry lips. “You do?” Yoongi met his eyes briefly, nodding. “Yeah. I know we should take things slow, but I don’t feel any of that fear with you.” If Jimin had been the kind of person he used to be, he might have teased Yoongi about implying that Jimin seemed easy to control. But he wasn’t that person anymore, and he realized everything Yoongi was telling him was what he wanted to hear. Jimin wasn’t often in control, but even though he hated it for the videos, he felt strange with the idea of actually being in control. He trusted Yoongi beyond words, and the thought of him being the one to lead them honestly made him feel hot all over. He tried to push the feeling away at the moment, though. “Can I kiss you right now?” he asked, and received a nod in return. Yoongi drew him in, holding him close as they kissed slowly. Jimin pulled away after a while, resting his head in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. “I just really like being close to you like this,” Jimin murmured. “I really want to do more with you, though.” “Are you sure?” “I want to. As long as it’s you.”   Later that night, Yoongi stared down at Jimin, slowly tracing his fingertips up and down his naked torso. Jimin tried to calm his breathing. He shouldn’t be getting so excited about such innocent touches. It was embarrassing. But Yoongi’s fingertips sent sparks of desire shooting through his body so strongly that Jimin could barely contain himself. Yoongi’s hand settled itself on Jimin’s hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles in the dip between his leg and his hip, and then Yoongi dipped down to kiss him. Jimin moaned into his mouth, sucking hungrily at his lips and tongue. “I want you,” he said against his lips, barely pulling away enough for the words to be intelligible. “Yoongi, please.” There was a puff of air against his cheek as Yoongi snorted slightly. “I’ve gotcha, don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “Be patient.” Jimin heard a pop as the top came off of the bottle of lube, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation, or something else. He didn’t realize he was fisting the bedsheets below him until he felt Yoongi’s hand pry his fingers open and place his hands on his thighs. “Jimin.” “Hmm?” “Promise me you’ll say something if I do something wrong.” Jimin’s hands tightened on Yoongi’s legs. “Jimin?” “I will. I will. Don’t worry.” “Good. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jimin opened his eyes. “You won’t.”   Jimin gasped when Yoongi’s first finger finally dipped inside. He frantically pulled Yoongi’s face back down to kiss him. His heart was beating too fast, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was scared, or if it was because he was overwhelmed with emotion. The finger stilled for a moment, before it began to push in more, carefully feeling around. “Yoongi,” he breathed, eyes closing, lips still pressed against the other’s. A soft whimper escaped him. “It’s okay,” Yoongi murmured, carding the fingers of his left hand through his hair. “I know.” Jimin smiled against his mouth. “I know.” Yoongi added a second finger, and Jimin’s breath stuttered. It was too much and not enough, all at the same time. A high-pitched gasp broke out of his throat. He threw his head back. Yoongi leaned forward to lick at his throat, slowly kissing and sucking at the skin as he worked his way toward his shoulder. “Ah…Yoongi.” “Hmm?” “M-more. Want more.” “This?” A third finger entered him, and he cried out, clutching Yoongi’s shoulders tightly. “Y-yeah. That’s—ah.” Yoongi was unimaginably gentle, but it was driving Jimin closer and closer to the edge. He’d never felt like this before. “O-okay, I’m ready,” he breathed. Yoongi pulled his fingers out and tore open the condom wrapper before rolling it on. Jimin spread his legs wide as Yoongi lined himself up with his entrance. Just before he began to push in, Yoongi touched Jimin’s chin gently with one finger. “Jimin, look at me,” he murmured, and Jimin tore his wide eyes away from their crotches to Yoongi’s face, where he saw the most loving expression he’d ever seen in his life. His breath hitched, and then Yoongi slowly began to push in, eyes never leaving his face. It hurt, a little, but not overwhelmingly so. He couldn’t help the slight grimace from flashing briefly across his features, and Yoongi paused, leaning down to kiss him lightly on his forehead. Jimin’s chest was heaving. “Okay?” Jimin swallowed, and nodded, unable to speak. He let out a low moan as Yoongi pushed the rest of the way in and stilled again. All of a sudden he felt…full. Not just physically full, but it was as if all of the spider cracks in his heart had closed, sealing off the holes and shielding him from every bad emotion that tried to slice its way in. “Do you…do you love me?” he whispered abruptly, tears leaking down his face. Yoongi pulled back a little so they could see each other. He touched Jimin’s brow, and carded his fingers through Jimin’s bangs again. “I think I just might,” he smiled fondly. “Really?” “Yeah.” Jimin pulled him down for a chaste kiss. “Good, ‘cause I,” he swallowed, “I love you so, so much, and I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t—” “Shh, shh,” Yoongi soothed him, and he realized fresh tears were streaming down his face. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m here.” He pressed their lips together, licking deep into his mouth, and Jimin responded fervently. Yoongi began to move, then, and Jimin dropped his head back to let the sensations take over him. The older man thrust into him slowly, so slowly that Jimin almost couldn’t bear it. His brain was going into overdrive, and he realized he needed to ground himself against Yoongi’s lips again. But he couldn’t get his eyes to focus, rolling back from every deep push. “Yoongi,” he groaned around a thrust, “K-kiss—ah—kiss me, please.” Yoongi’s mouth was on him in record-timing, and he whimpered into it, grasping both sides of his face before his hands shakily made their way down his neck, then shoulders, then arms.   Jimin broke the kiss but didn’t pull away, open mouth pressed against Yoongi’s, panting as he took in every sensation of Yoongi moving inside him. He gripped the older man’s biceps tightly, probably painfully, but he couldn’t loosen his grip. A high gasp traveled from his mouth into Yoongi’s, muffled but ringing loudly in both of their ears. Jimin tried to continue kissing Yoongi, but his lips kept missing, just barely brushing against each other until Yoongi took initiative and pushed him down, covering his entire mouth with his own. When Yoongi actually stopped moving inside him to concentrate on kissing him deeply, Jimin thought he was going to die. He moved his hands from Yoongi’s elbows to the back of his neck to hold him close, pulling his tongue deeper and curling his own around it as he rolled his hips up hard, picking up the pace. Yoongi groaned so loudly into Jimin’s mouth that he could have sworn the vibrations traveled down his throat. Yoongi shifted, just slightly, and Jimin’s eyes shot open as he cried out. “Oh fuck!” he reached down to touch himself. He was dripping pre-cum all over his stomach. Yoongi was still being too slow, though. “Harder, Yoongi, please.” He wiped some of his pre-cum on Yoongi’s chest, and then lapped at one of his nipples. Yoongi let out a low groan and pulled Jimin’s legs up a little, trying to brace himself before pulling nearly all the way out and then ramming straight in. Oh. That was more like it. Jimin didn’t realize he’d let go of Yoongi and was simply lying back, weakly clutching the pillow behind him as high-pitched whines burst from him around each of Yoongi’s thrusts. Soon enough, he could feel himself tensing, and with a soft cry, he came hard, between them. Yoongi slowed down his thrusts to help him through his orgasm, but all of a sudden it was too much. “Stop, stop, stop, Yoongi, please stop,” Jimin pleaded frantically, grabbing onto his shoulders. The fear had taken a hold of him with no warning, and his hands began shaking. Yoongi immediately pulled out completely despite not yet coming, still as hard as ever, and drew Jimin to his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Jimin shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not your fault. I just,” he broke off. He didn’t want to ruin this moment by talking about that. About the constant abuse of his oversensitivity. He usually liked the feeling to a point, but right now…. “It’s okay. It’ll take time, and we’ve got all the time in the world.” God, why was Yoongi such an angel? Jimin hadn’t done anything to deserve such a person. Abruptly the older man grunted, as if in pain, and Jimin startled. Yoongi’s dick had bumped into his own, and clearly it had affected the still very much aroused man above him. Jimin felt guilty. He knew there was no way he could take Yoongi in again so soon. But what if— “Yoongi,” he said quietly, “take off the condom.” “What? No.” he looked upset. “Jimin—” “Please. I want to do something.” “What are you going to do?” his voice was uneasy. “I want to make you feel good,” was all Jimin said, as he sat up with a slight grimace, pushing Yoongi to lie down. He reached for the edge of the condom, but paused, mere inches away. He looked up. “Can I take it off?” “Tell me what you’re going to do, first.” “I’m going to blow you.” Yoongi’s eyes widened, and his head fell back on the pillow, bumping into the wall with a small thud as he groaned. “Oh my god,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly. Jimin couldn’t help the smirk from rising to his lips. It was obvious how affected Yoongi was by his words. “Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked, shifting to get more comfortable between the other man’s thighs. Yoongi lifted his head a little to meet his gaze, and Jimin didn’t miss the way his eyes darted down to Jimin’s mouth, so he purposely wet his lips with his tongue. He thought he saw Yoongi’s pupils dilate. They moved back up to his eyes. “O-okay.” Jimin smiled. This was going to be fun. He rolled the condom back off of Yoongi’s dick, careful to not touch him too much and accidentally trigger something. “Where should I—?” He held up the condom. “Just, over to the side by the tissues. We can deal with it later.” Yoongi was breathing heavily, but clearly trying to control it as Jimin placed the condom inside a tissue so it didn’t leave a wet mark on the loft flooring. Jimin turned back to the dick in front of him. He took a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes momentarily as he swallowed, lips pressed tightly closed. “You don’t have to do this.” Yoongi must have been watching him. Jimin opened his eyes, but didn’t look up. “Hush,” was all he said, before he leaned down and took just the end in his mouth. Yoongi let out a low, guttural moan, and Jimin flicked his eyes up briefly to look through his bangs at how he’d pressed his hands to his face. Jimin smiled around the tip and then moved lower, taking as much as he could into his mouth. Yoongi let out a “Hhah,” sound, weaving his fingers into Jimin’s hair, gently caressing his skull. It was an odd combination. Usually Jimin’s partners in the past had only held onto his hair to hold him still as they fucked into his throat. This was calming, and he hummed around the dick in his mouth. A tremor ran through Yoongi’s body. “God, Jimin.” It didn’t take long before Jimin felt Yoongi pulling urgently at his hair, trying to move him away. “Jimin, I’m gonna—” But Jimin locked his hands against Yoongi’s hips and pushed deeper, opening his throat before swallowing around him. He could feel Yoongi trembling, just on the edge, before he crashed over, spilling down Jimin’s throat. Jimin carefully slipped away as the release slowed, continuing to suck and roll his tongue around the underside of his cock. When he was sure that there was no more left, he eased off completely, licking his lips and swallowing a few times. Yoongi was breathing heavily. He looked down at him, worry in his eyes. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have had to—” “I wanted to,” Jimin cut him off, crawling up to kiss him on the mouth again. He chuckled at the involuntary grimace Yoongi made at the taste of himself on Jimin’s tongue. Yoongi groaned loudly, in a very much unsexual way, and dropped his head back on the pillow. He drew Jimin in close, threading his fingers through his hair as his breathing returned to normal. “No one’s ever offered to do that before,” he confessed several minutes later. “Did you like it?” Jimin asked, even though he knew the answer. “Mmhm.” “Good. You deserve that, and so much more,” Jimin sighed as he slid down slightly to nuzzle against his chest. He slid his hand smoothly up and down Yoongi’s chest, not really in a sensual way, but almost in a soothing way. His eyes fell on the nipple a few centimeters away from his face, and without thinking, he shifted so he was directly on top of it, lips encircling it completely. Yoongi released a heavy sigh as Jimin began gently suckling the small nub. He felt Yoongi quaking, and he pulled away a little, only to realize it was silent laughter. “What?” Jimin demanded, feeling offended for some reason. Yoongi’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s just,” he turned his head slightly, and reached out to trace his thumb over Jimin’s lips. “I was just thinking about how obsessed I’m already starting to get with your lips.” Jimin smirked, then, and followed the thumb before it could get too far, capturing it between said lips and biting it lightly as he swirled his tongue around it, sucking the whole thing into his mouth. Yoongi groaned and clamped onto Jimin’s cheek with the captured hand, pulling him up to replace the thumb with his mouth and tongue. They kissed slowly for a while, until Jimin felt a familiar warmth begin to pool in his gut again. He intensified the kiss and reached out to stroke Yoongi’s dick. He, too, was starting to harden. Jimin climbed on top of him, never disconnecting their mouths, and rubbed himself against Yoongi’s thigh as he squeezed and tugged the other man back to full hardness. Then he kissed away from the other’s mouth, moving toward his ear. “I wanna try again,” he stage-whispered directly into his ear before latching onto his neck and sucking hard. “Again?” “Mm.” “Are you…ready to go again?” Jimin knew what he was really asking. “Yes. I think so. I want to.” “All right. But we’re stopping if—” “I know. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jimin knew it was probably a mistake to block it out, but he didn’t care. He wanted Yoongi so badly, he didn’t care. He reached for the lube, straddling the older man. Just as he was uncapping the bottle, Yoongi grabbed his hand. “Wait, Jimin.” “What?” “Condom.” Jimin sighed. “Do we have to? I wanna feel you.” “Yes, we have to,” Yoongi argued, irritated disbelief creeping into his voice. “Don’t you know anything about unprotected sex?” “I know plenty about it.” “And?” “And what? Are we seriously having this conversation right now?” Yoongi sat up on his elbows. “Yes, we are having this conversation right now.” Jimin hated how patronizing he sounded. “You know it only takes one time to infected, right.” “Yeah, and I’ve gotten tested more times than I care to think about, thanks. I’m fine.” “Not since the hotel guy, though, right?” Jimin choked, falling back. “No, but—” Yoongi twisted, leaning over and grabbing the box of condoms. “I’m sorry, but it’s with a condom or nothing happens.” Jimin could feel his eyes watering. “You think I’m dirty,” he accused, hating how choked up and weak his voice sounded. Yoongi dropped the box and pulled Jimin into his arms. “No, that’s not—ugh, Jimin. I’m sorry. I just want us to be safe.” “Youwant to be safe. I’m already not safe,” Jimin corrected him. “That’s not what I mean. Please.” They held each other for a while before Yoongi began kissing and touching him again. Jimin pulled away to silently put the condom on him. He slathered lube around the outside of the condom and inside himself, mouth open as he breathed heavily. Yoongi groaned as he watched Jimin thoroughly coating his hole with the liquid. Things got messy and rough after that. With all of the extra lube Jimin had used, the sound of their thrusting was amplified and wet. Jimin tried riding Yoongi at first, before he quickly realized the low ceiling didn’t exactly encourage such activities. Yoongi flipped him over and wasted no time in pounding into Jimin, forcing out even louder moans from him each time. This time Jimin didn’t panic, and enjoyed the afterglow, clamping his hands on Yoongi’s hips to hold him still. “Stay,” he breathed as Yoongi began to pull out. “I am, don’t worry,” he was reassured, but he shook his head and held on tighter, snaking one arm around Yoongi’s waist. “No. Stay inside. I want you to stay inside me.” He was still floating in euphoria, eyes closed. “That’s not a good idea, Jimin.” He felt Yoongi try to pull away again, and he whimpered, bucking against the rapper even though he was already overstimulated. Maybe he had gone crazy. Suddenly all he wanted was to be wrecked by Yoongi. He never wanted to let go. But Yoongi clearly wasn’t up for that. “Jimin,” he said sternly, finally winning over with his strength, and pulled out. It ripped a loud cry from Jimin, and several strong aftershocks coursed through his body. He barely registered the feel of wet tissues on his stomach and limp dick before Yoongi was lying down beside him, condom-free and drawing him into his arms. Jimin hummed and buried his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi reached over to pick up his phone. He made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. Jimin pushed himself up slightly, worried. “What is it?” Yoongi tossed his phone to the side, snorting. “What time do you think it is?” Jimin frowned. “I don’t know, two?” Yoongi pressed both hands to his eye sockets, shaking his head and starting to laugh slightly. “Try four.” “Oh my god,” Jimin felt himself heat up in embarrassment. Was he actually that perverted that he had kept them busy for thatlong? “I’m sorry,” he half laughed, half whimpered. “Don’t apologize, geez. But I think we need to get some actual sleep now.” Jimin hummed and scooted closer until he was pressed up against Yoongi. “Okay.” “Thank god I don’t have to work at the coffee shop tomorrow morning.”   The next morning, they kissed in the kitchen for a very long time, not even touching other than Yoongi’s hands on Jimin’s waist, Jimin’s arms around his neck. It was quiet, only the sounds of their breathing, the sticky slide of their tongues, the suction of their mouths, and the occasional knock of teeth. Although Jimin was pretty good at avoiding that. Eventually Yoongi pulled away, a string of saliva connecting their flushed lips. Jimin snickered and followed the string back to his mouth, sucking it up and stealing another quick peck before he pulled back as well. “God. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear. I’m not going to get anything done, now.” Yoongi purposely turned his back and pretended to ignore him as he poured his coffee and then padded over to his workstation. Chapter End Notes Holy shit I think that’s the longest sex scene I’ve EVER written. Usually it’s just BANG BANG BANG and then over, hahahaha. (Who else read that to the tune of Big Bang’s song? Because I did.) But oh man I admit I’m so proud of that scene. So much emotion. You can really tell the difference between their sexual experience in this, too. Btw while I was writing, my music playlist switched to a very nerve- racking song right when Jimin got overwhelmed. TBH I don’t know if that was the cause of the sudden shift in the scene, or if I was already going to write that, but either way I think it was a luckily happenstance. I was also writing the second part of this during our typhoon two weeks ago, and kept getting DISTRACTED by alerts coming up on my phone that I could barely read because they were in Japanese, and sirens outside with loudspeakers announcing evacuations and “get to high ground/stay above the second floor of your house” going on throughout the night. And it just killed the flow and suddenly Jimin and Yoongi got into an argument I WASN’T INTENDING THEM TO HAVE. *deep breaths* Anyway...thanks for reading! I look forward to your comments! I hope I didn't do an awful job. :P ***** Chapter XI ***** Chapter Notes Wow, there’s a lot of emotional stuff coming your way. (In this chapter, and next.) Prepare yourselves. I realized I get bored with fluff, so don’t expect too much of that. Not the longest chapter, especially after the last one, lol. But hopefully you don't think it's too short. I struggled so much with writing it! ;_; Side note: I've decided to use /slashes/ to differentiate spoken Korean from spoken English. So if you see a sentence within quotations with slashes, the person is speaking in Korean. Now that Jimin understands more, I feel like it's okay to just write it that way so it's less confusing for the rest of us. Also, Happy Birthday to our beloved Park Jimin! I feel so proud of him lately! I also LOVE how happy he seems, too. So smiley and giggly and acting cutesy, hehehe. See the end of the chapter for more notes XI.   Jimin felt like he was in bliss for a few days, unable to stop smiling at Yoongi, snuggling up close to him whenever possible, touching him whenever he could. But soon he realized that breaking his short fast from two years of near constant intense sex had done something to his hormones that he wasn’t prepared for. He couldn’t stop craving Yoongi. At first, he didn’t really notice the difference. But then it became obvious when Yoongi’s reactions weren’t as positive as he’d expect. Jimin started getting horny all the time, triggered by the smallest of things, and Yoongi wasn’t having any of it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He did have some of it. One of the best ways to start his day was with Yoongi’s long fingers wrapped tightly around his cock in the shower, Jimin groaning and leaning back against his chest as the hot water cascaded over them. But it wasn’t nearly as much as Jimin needed. Jimin was like an addict who had quit after too many fucked up years, only to fall back into the unforgiving black hole of a relapse.     He and Yoongi had just returned from applying for Jimin's visa, and Yoongi settled back down at his workstation after he'd put the leftovers from their lunch into the fridge.  Jimin came up behind Yoongi while he was sitting at his computer, headphones on and monitors filled with open music editing programs. He checked briefly to make sure he wasn’t interrupting something really important before he leaned down to wrap his arms around the producer’s neck. He hummed and nuzzled the space below one of his ears, kissing and sucking lightly at the skin. Yoongi reached back with one hand to briefly thread this fingers into Jimin’s hair, petting him softly. "Hi," he said simply. "Hi." Jimin sighed happily and pressed his cheek against his shoulder, just watching Yoongi’s fingers fly over the keyboard. He wished those fingers were doing something else. Abruptly his breathing staggered, but he didn’t think Yoongi noticed. He had his headphones on. Jimin moved to Yoongi’s side, crouching by his lap. He leaned his folded arms on one of his legs, and Yoongi chuckled, tapping him playfully on the head twice before going back to his work. Jimin stared at the crotch just inches from his face for a few minutes, feeling his throat go wet with want, before slowly reaching forward and unbuttoning his jeans. He wasn’t thinking. He was in the process of unzipping them when Yoongi gasped. “Holyfuck, what are you doing?” Yoongi rolled his chair back so quickly that Jimin nearly fell forward onto the floor. He just barely caught himself in time. Jimin felt himself go slightly pink. “I—” “Jimin, I’m working.” “Yeah, and?” “Don’t be indecent.” Ouch. Jimin flinched. “I just thought, I thought you would like it.” “Not while I’m trying to get work done! There’s a time for those things. Now is not the time.” Jimin pouted, sitting back on the floor. “Don’t make that face at me.” “What face?” He stuck his lips out more and lowered his chin, looking up at Yoongi through his bangs. “I said no.” Jimin scowled, and got to his feet. “Fine. See if you get any later.” He didn’t like the way Yoongi snorted, totally unaffected, as he rolled his chair back to the desk. “I think I can deal.” “Oh yeah? Maybe you’ll just have to watch me have fun all by myself.” Suddenly Jimin got a spiteful idea. “In fact, why don’t I—” he dropped down onto the sofa, “—just—make myself feel better over here?” Yoongi’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, don’t you worry. Go back to work. I’ll just enjoy myself here.” To his surprise, Yoongi started to turn back to his computer, although his head was still slightly turned toward him, as if to check whether Jimin was actually going to follow through with his words. His mouth was open a little as Jimin loosened his pants and slipped his hand into his boxers. Then, to Jimin’s shock, Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, he snapped his mouth shut, and turned away. He even reached to put his headphones back on. “Jimin,” Yoongi said warningly. He wasn’t even looking at him. “I’m serious. Why are you doing this?” Jimin squeezed himself tightly, twisting his wrist sharply. His hand was dry, so there was more pain than pleasure, but he choked out a moan all the same. He ignored Yoongi’s insensitive words. He jerked his hand frantically. He wasn’t going for slow. Clearly Yoongi was repelled by his ‘indecency.’ But Jimin needed this. He needed to feel real. He needed to stop floating. He’d been too happy lately; he knew it couldn’t last. He didn’t deserve to stay happy like that. His hand burned. His dick had a strange combination of pleasure-driven heat and itching from the painful friction. His moans were staggered with the force of not breathing behind each burst of sound that was choked off as he tried to pull the air back in. He heard the clatter of headphones on the desk. “Oh my god. Jimin, stop. Stop it, you’re hurting yourself.” There were strong hands on his arms, yanking them away to his sides, pushing him back on the sofa. “What’s wrong? Jimin.” But he couldn’t answer that. He turned his head to the side, smothering himself against the back of the sofa. Yoongi climbed onto the sofa, essentially straddling him, but suddenly sex was far from Jimin’s mind. He wasn’t even hard anymore. He let Yoongi lie down over him, encasing him in an awkward, cage-like brace. “Jimin. Jimin-ah. Please. Why are you doing this to yourself?” Jimin couldn’t look at him. “I disgust you. I know. I know.” He wasn’t crying; his eyes were dry, but his throat was obstructed as if he was.                                                          Yoongi let go of his arms to take both sides of his face in his hands and force Jimin to face him. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth. You know that.” Yoongi’s lips were on his a moment later. It was a closed-mouth kiss, and only lasted a few seconds, but Jimin felt calm wash over him. “You don’t disgust me,” Yoongi said again. “But I can’t do this, Jimin.” Jimin felt his stomach tighten. Yoongi visibly swallowed, and sighed as he ran a hand through Jimin’s hair, never breaking eye contact. Jimin tried to look away, but Yoongi didn’t let him. “I’m not used to so much physical contact. I don’t…I don’t crave it as much as most people, I think. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being that way with you. Because I do, and I don’t regret that at all. But Jimin. I can’t just…do those kinds of things all the time. If I’m working, I need to work. This isn’t a movie, you know?” “I know,” Jimin responded, voice small. “Yeah. I know it may seem like a great idea—who wouldn’t want to get blown while they’re sitting at their desk, in the middle of their work day?” Jimin unconsciously wet his lips, throat suddenly dry. He felt hot. But this time it was with embarrassment. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but I’m just not like that. Okay? It doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re attractive.” He grimaced, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them again and looking down at Jimin. “Because my god, you are seriously the most dangerously beautiful person I’ve ever known.” He stroked the side of Jimin’s neck just below his jaw with the tips of his fingers. His eyes were soft as he leaned down to kiss Jimin again, this time pushing his mouth open to carefully claim it. He pulled away. “So I really need you to understand that it’s not because of any of that stuff you were thinking. I just have to be ready for you, okay?” Jimin licked his lips, not sensually, but just gathering their mixed saliva and pulling it back into his mouth. “What should I do?” Jimin found himself asking quietly. “I don’t know what to do. I want to make you happy, and I want to feel good. How am I supposed to do that?” Yoongi frowned. “I am happy. You don’t need to do anything extra to make me happy.” “But,” Jimin didn’t understand. He pushed himself up on his elbows, which forced Yoongi to sit up to give him room. He slid to the side so that he wasn’t straddling Jimin anymore, although one of his legs was still thrown over both of Jimin’s. “But what?” Yoongi prompted him, when Jimin didn’t continue, just staring at him with furrowed brows. “But don’t you want anything from me?” Yoongi opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He was obviously considering his answer before speaking. Jimin waited, tense. “That’s a loaded question,” the musician began, finally. It wasn’t accusatory; just pointing out the truth. “Of course I…want to be close with you. But I really wish I could erase the part of you that thinks people only want you for your body.”   Things got a little better after that, although Jimin felt more awkward about initiating intimacy with Yoongi. He made sure to never touch him while the producer was working, until finally one evening as he was finishing up, Yoongi seemed to get annoyed by his obvious avoidance and pulled him over to hold on his lap. “Is it that hard to not molest me while I’m working?” he joked. Jimin frowned and rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, it is,” he deadpanned. Yoongi sighed. He slipped his hand underneath Jimin’s shirt, gently rubbing his palm up and down his side, thumb caressing just the edge of his abs and ribs. Jimin took a shuddering breath and flicked his tongue out as he turned slightly to suck on Yoongi’s collarbone. “Wow, even just that gets you going?” He sounded like he was in disbelief. Jimin hummed acknowledgement, letting out a little whine as he pushed closer. “Only because it’s you, though.” Yoongi pulled him up, away from his neck—Jimin knew he didn’t like marks visible—and instead connected their mouths. Jimin groaned into the kiss, pulling Yoongi’s tongue into his mouth, welcoming it as it pressed and curved around his own tongue. The rapper was the best kisser Jimin had ever known, which honestly was saying a lot. Jimin felt heat building up in his groin, and he whimpered into Yoongi’s mouth as he fumbled a bit to blindly find Yoongi’s hand and push it against his crotch. Yoongi wrapped an arm around his back and stood up without disconnecting their mouths, and backed Jimin up until they stumbled over to the sofa. They toppled down onto it, Jimin crying out slightly when Yoongi’s knee accidentally pressed into his crotch too hard. When Yoongi finally slipped his hand into Jimin’s pants to take a hold of his dick, he thought he was going to come right then and there, but luckily he didn’t. In the end, as Jimin lay there coming down from his high and Yoongi went to get a washcloth, he realized Yoongi hadn’t even taken his clothes off, choosing to focus all of his attention on Jimin instead. He just couldn’t understand, he thought as Yoongi came back. The older man seemed perfectly happy, though, smiling down at him and touching his cheek lightly before gently cleaning up the mess he’d made.   Jimin was on his way to work barely a week later when he saw him. It was Stephen, one of the other directors he and Chris had worked with on several occasions. Most of the videos Jimin had done with Stephen’s men had involved threesomes in which Jimin wasn’t allowed to do anything but let them have their way with him. One partner was usually gentle with him, the other was rough to the point of bruising and occasional black outs when he choked Jimin for too long. Jimin still remembered how he’d had dark marks on his wrists for days from having his hands held together behind his back in a vice grip the entire time he was fucked, bent uncomfortably forward so that his face was forced into the second man’s lap to choke on his cock as he sat in a lounge chair. Stephen spotted him before he could hide his face, and a moment later he had come up beside Jimin. He had the deceivingly innocuous appearance of a respectable, working class man. Jimin knew his ‘real’ job was a mechanic somewhere in the city, although where, he wasn’t sure. He wondered now if it was nearby. "Hey there, Jimmy. Haven't seen you in a while. Almost didn't recognize you with those clothes and that hair. But I wouldn't forget those lips." Jimin frowned, and adjusted his posture so it was straighter. He gripped his shoulder bag tighter. He just happened to be wearing Yoongi's clothes that day, and he knew they gave him a more masculine appearance. Baggy sweatpants tucked into his Timberlands, a dark hoodie, and his favorite red beanie to steal from Yoongi. "What do you want, Stephen?" he demanded. "I heard you disappeared a while ago. Christopher wasn’t too happy when he told me about you running off." "Yeah I don't do that anymore," Jimin tried to say nonchalantly, but it came out a little shakier than he intended. The casual mention of Chris had his blood running cold. Stephen noticed, and his eyes narrowed.  "You sure about that? If you wanted to join up with me, I could make it worth your while. We’d pay you double what you were making before. You were one of our most popular collaborations. Viewers keep asking for you. So pliant, so vocal. So perfect." He reached out and grabbed Jimin’s chin, his large, calloused fingers pressing hard into his cheeks to push out his puffy lips. Jimin’s eyes widened as he froze. He felt paralyzed, a loud buzzing in his ears. A barely audible whimper made its way out of his mouth, and Stephen smirked. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby.” He rubbed Jimin’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “You should come home with me, Jimmy. We could put those lips to good use.” Stephen released his chin to reach for Jimin's shoulder, but a surge of adrenaline coursed through him, and Jimin ducked away from the hand before bolting. He ran with no regard to where he was going, just putting as much distance between himself and Stephen as possible. He didn't check to see if he was being followed, afraid to look back. After several minutes he was forced to slow down, and he realized he had no idea where he was. He didn’t notice his phone buzzing in his bag. He was out of breath, gasping as if he was asthmatic, trying to get his bearings. But everything was tilting and spinning. He swallowed a mouthful of air, forcing himself to breath. He couldn’t do this right now. He had to get a hold of himself. “Hey, are you okay, kid?” He jolted, tearing himself away from the concerned stranger with a gasp, and stumbled around the corner, crossing the street to get away. He wandered for a while until eventually the buildings began to look more familiar and he was back in Koreatown. When he saw the neon sign of the convenience store where he worked, all of his adrenaline rushed out of him, and he sank to his haunches against the wall of the building across the street. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to breathe. He almost didn’t notice the tinkle of the bell as the store door opened, or the hurried footsteps rushing across the street to him. “/Jimin-ah! What happened! Are you okay?/” It was Taehyung, speaking quickly in Korean. A sob broke from Jimin’s lips. He flinched away when an arm was placed over his shoulder, but then he let it pull him to his feet. Jimin was shaking, stumbling as he was led across to the store and into the break room. He vaguely registered Taehyung telling their supervisor where they were going. He was pushed down onto the small sofa beside the microwave. “Jimin, what happened?” he asked again, this time in English, but Jimin couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t form the words to make up a lie, either. “Y-Yoongi. I want Yoongi,” he choked, another round of quaking coursing through his body. His vision whitened as he gasped for air, and he found himself leaning to the side before Taehyung pulled him upright and used a nearby paper plate to fan his face. “Breathe, Jiminie, breathe. Do you have your phone?” “Ba-bag,” he managed. He felt Taehyung rummaging around until he pulled the phone out. There was a sound of disbelief. “/Do you seriously only have three numbers in this?/” he said in Korean. Jimin knew exactly which numbers were there: ‘Min Yoongi,’ ‘Kim Taehyung,’ and ‘Work.’ “Yoongi,” Jimin whispered again. “I need Yoongi.” He heard the far away sound of ringing for several seconds, and then it cut off. He could just barely hear Yoongi’s voice coming through the earpiece. "Jimin? I thought you were at work?" "Min Yoongi-ssi?" "Yes, who is this?" His voice changed abruptly, sounding far more professional and adult-like. "I'm Kim Taehyung, Jimin…same work. Yoongi-ssi, Jimin's in a bad way. I don't know…panic attack? Or…something? He late to work and freaking out…something." "/Where is he? Can I talk to him?/" Yoongi switched to Korean. "/He's right here, hold on./" He held the phone up to Jimin's ear.  "Jimin? It's Yoongi. What happened?" "Yoongi." Jimin struggled to speak. "Jimin, are you okay? What happened?" "I, they found me. They found me." "Who's 'they'? Who found you?" Jimin choked on a sob and nearly dropped the phone. "I need you. Please come?" "Okay, okay, I'm on my way. You're at work?" "Y-yeah." "Give me fifteen minutes. Stay with Taehyung. Can you put him back on the phone?" Jimin handed the phone back to his coworker. "Yes?" "/Taehyung-ssi, I'm coming to pick him up. I should be there in fifteen minutes. Can you watch him until then?/" "/Of course./" The second Yoongi walked into the break room of the store, Jimin buried himself in Yoongi's arms. He'd calmed down some since the phone call, but he was still shaking a little. Taehyung returned to the storefront to give them privacy. "I'm scared. I'll never escape them here." "Did they do anything to you?" Yoongi pulled back and tried to look at his body. Jimin shook his head.  "I ran."  “Did they follow you?” “I don’t know." “Who was it? Chris?” Jimin shook his head. “Another director. We used to work with him a lot. He wanted me to join his team. Said he’d pay me double what I got before. Guess he didn’t know Chris kept all the money for himself.” Yoongi went out with him to apologize to Jimin's manager and explain that he wasn't feeling well enough to work today. Mr. Lee wasn't happy, but at least he was understanding.  “I already called Sunhee in to cover the rest of your shift,” he said. “You’ll have to discuss with her about which one of hers you’ll take in return, okay?” “Of course. Thank you, Mr. Lee.” “You go home and get your rest, kid. You had us worried.” Jimin nodded and turned his face away, feeling his eyes prickle. He let Yoongi lead him outside. Once they were home, Jimin settled down on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest. Yoongi brought the comforter down from the loft to wrap around him. “Do you need anything?” he asked, clearly unsure if Jimin wanted physical comfort or if he wanted to be left alone. “Can you just sit with me for a little bit? I promise I won’t keep you from work for too long.” “It’s fine, I don’t care about that right now. You’re more important.” He sat down on the sofa, and Jimin lay down so that his cheek rested on his thigh, facing out from the sofa. Yoongi tugged the comforter higher up on Jimin’s shoulders, tucking it around his ears, and then proceeded to run his fingers soothingly through Jimin’s hair. Jimin closed his eyes and let himself blank everything out. “I’ll be here,” Yoongi murmured. “Go ahead and let yourself relax.” Jimin shifted slightly, bringing his right hand up to rest backwards over Yoongi’s leg. His fingers twitched, reaching but not quite. A moment later Yoongi’s warm fingers had slipped through his, squeezing lightly and then just holding him securely. Jimin didn’t realize he was so drained; before he knew it, he was drifting to sleep, safely against Yoongi’s side. Chapter End Notes I'm sorry for posting a sad chapter on such a happy day, but it had to be done. ;_; Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! I love you all so much! ...now I'll just sit back and wait for the Bangtan family to tweet birthday wishes to their beloved Jimin. So far it's only Hobi, but the night is young, and they're probably enjoying themselves in person anyway. (And that's what matters, really. <3) ***** Chapter XII ***** Chapter Notes Again, a little longer wait than intended, but...I ended up drawing a little something for this story. I hope you like it. ^^ *Edit* Photobucket is being a pain (sorry about that), and broke the link, so I created a tumblr account just for the purpose of sharing it. I THINK it's working now, but please let me know if the link breaks again! See the end of the chapter for more notes   XII.   Jimin woke up to the smell of grilling meat. He sat up, feeling refreshed but disoriented, and saw Yoongi moving around the kitchen. It’d gotten dark outside. After a glance at the clock on Yoongi’s workstation, he was surprised to see he’d slept for close to four hours. He stretched, cracking his neck and shoulders, and then got to his feet. Yoongi hadn’t noticed him yet over the loud hissing and crackling of the food on the stove. Jimin shuffled over to him, letting out a sleepy grumble as he wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and perched his chin over his shoulder to see what he was cooking for dinner. The older man tensed in surprise for barely a split second before he shifted his head just enough to bump gently against Jimin’s in greeting. “Hey, sleepyhead. Feeling better?” “Mmm,” Jimin hummed affirmatively through his nose. “Whatcha making? Smells good.” “Just some stir fry. Wasn’t sure what else to make, and I needed to clean out the fridge.” “Leftovers à la Yoongi.” “Exactly. There’s rice in the rice cooker, too. Oh, by the way. Look over there,” Yoongi added suddenly, gesturing with the spatula toward the counter. “Huh?” Jimin turned to look at the various things scattered on the counter, one of which included his cell phone, and he picked it up when he noticed it blinking. He had a text from Taehyung. 'r u ok??? I’m worried.' He smiled softly and quickly sent a reply. ‘I’m fine. thx for worrying.’ “Not your phone,” Yoongi snorted, having glanced over his shoulder. “The passport.” Jimin frowned and set his phone down, reaching for the small blue book. “Is this yours?” “Open it.” He did. It was Yoongi’s. He momentarily got distracted, reading the first page, and smiling at the very young-looking Min Yoongi. The picture had been taken when he was only eighteen. He looked completely different. He had round cheeks and ridiculous spiky black hair, but his dark eyes, cute nose, and almost-smirk were still the same. “You’re adorable,” he commented, smirking. “Turn the page,” Yoongi said, exasperated. “Okay, okay,” Jimin giggled slightly. He flipped past various landing permission stamps from past travels, until he reached the page he was sure was the one Yoongi intended him to see. There was a shiny new sticker on the page, with a recent photo—although his hair was still brown in it—and information declaring that he was now legally able to work in South Korea for the listed amount of time. “My CCIV arrived the other day, and I stopped by the Embassy to drop everything off while you were at work. I went back today to pick it up.” He switched off the stove and brought the pan of stir-fried meat and vegetables over to the counter, shoving some things aside before he grabbed bowls and utensils for them. “That’s just the temporary visa; I’ll have to go to the immigration office once we’re in Korea, to get my real visa.” Jimin took the bowls and went over to the rice cooker to dish out healthy portions for the both of them. “Thanks.” Yoongi took his bowl and began scooping vegetables and meat onto his rice. He waited for Jimin to sit down before continuing. “We need to start packing and going through things.” That was when Jimin noticed the big bundle of flattened cardboard boxes lying against the wall behind the sofa. There were two boxes over by the TV, already partially packed with books and picture frames. Jimin felt a strange chill go through him at the sight, and he didn’t understand what it meant. “I’ll probably sell and toss a bunch of shit, but the company is paying for the move; shipping costs, plane ticket, and all. My equipment is coming with us, of course. But it’s literally coming to the airport with us to be sent with checked luggage.” Jimin raised his eyebrows and whistled slightly. “That’s not cheap.” Yoongi smirked. “Cheaper than buying all new equipment.” “Um,” Jimin squirmed a little on his seat, and poked at his food briefly as the rest of Yoongi’s words registered with him. He’d said ‘plane ticket.’ Singular. One. “I, uh,” he trailed off. Yoongi paused eating, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?” Jimin bit his lip slightly before taking a breath. “I should be able to pay for, um, for some of my plane ticket.” Yoongi resumed eating, nodding. “Sure, that works. You can pay me back the rest once we’re more settled in Seoul, ‘kay? I’ve got to buy both tickets together anyway, though, if we want to sit together for that long-ass flight. I’ll get reimbursed by BigHit once I arrive.” Jimin started to smile, happy that Yoongi hadn’t insisted on paying for it completely, but then he realized what he’d actually just said. “Do you have enough to pay for all of that upfront?” he asked, startled. “You’ll have to pay for the shipping and luggage, too, right?” “Yeah. Not really,” Yoongi admitted, shrugging. “That’s why I’m just putting it all on my credit card. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” They spent the rest of the evening researching flights, rather than packing. Yoongi said he expected Jimin’s visa to be back by the end of November. They decided to aim their departure for just before Christmas so that they could have a bit of extra time before Yoongi was due to begin working, since he wouldn’t have much time to help Jimin figure things out; although this was his first time to live in Korea, too, he wasn’t by any means a stranger to the country. His grandparents still lived in Daegu, where his parents were from, and where his older brother had been born. Yoongi had visited many times over the years, and he once spent a summer in Seoul, staying with Namjoon, hitting up all the underground gigs worth checking out.   The next week flew by. Jimin didn’t see Stephen again. Yoongi started driving Jimin to work more often, since he’d cut down his shifts at the coffee shop once he’d started focusing more on the producing work he’d already started with Namjoon and other musicians over the computer. Jimin enjoyed the extra time with Yoongi, but he hated the coddled feeling he couldn’t help getting at times. When the both of them were at home, they mostly spent it going through Yoongi’s things, sorting everything that wasn’t definitely going into piles of ‘donate,’ ‘trash,’ or ‘I don’t know what the hell to do with this, I’ll think about it later.’ Once they had a good number of boxes packed with the things they wouldn’t need right away—books, mementos, summer clothes—Yoongi’s older brother Joongi came over with his SUV to help bring the boxes to the post office. Yoongi obviously didn’t have an address in Korea yet, so he was just sending everything to the company building, where Namjoon promised to keep an eye on it all for him. When Jimin opened the door to Joongi, he tried to hide his surprise. Joongi was tall. And tan. And clean cut. Basically the opposite of Yoongi. “Uh, hi,” Jimin said, suddenly shy. He backed out of the way so Joongi could come in. “Jimin, I assume?” Joongi smiled down at him warmly as he nodded, and he felt some of his nervousness go away. The brothers had the same smile. Joongi shifted the tray of coffees he held to offer his right for Jimin to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet you.” Jimin glanced over at Yoongi in surprise, wondering when—and what—he had talked to his brother about Jimin. “What, you didn’t bring Holly?” Yoongi came over and complained in lieu of a greeting. He took the proffered tray of coffees from Joongi’s hand, grabbing the iced Americano for himself and handing Jimin his hot coffee with milk and sugar. Jimin wondered who Holly was. Did Joongi have a kid? He seemed old enough to have children. “Would you seriously want him running around your apartment and getting into everything while we’re trying to load up boxes?” Joongi retorted, starting to toe off his shoes, but Yoongi stopped him. “Don’t bother. We’ll be going in and out too many times. I’ll just clean the floor later.” “How American,” his brother scoffed. Jimin noticed that Joongi had a slight accent, reminiscent of Mr. and Mrs. Min’s accents, although not as strong. Yoongi was the only one in the family with no accent when he spoke in English. First Generation American, he’d said that one time. “Shut up.” It was clear that Yoongi and his brother bickered a lot, but Jimin could see the love behind their jibes. Joongi was several years older than Yoongi, and the dynamic between the two was interesting; it was the first time Jimin had seen Yoongi around someone older than him other than his parents, and Yoongi just seemed so…young. Jimin suddenly realized that he’d always only seen Yoongi being the mature one, the hyung,if you will. He’d had to; there were so many times he’d had to step in and take care of Jimin, that there were hardly any times when he was allowed to just be a kid. Jimin liked seeing this side of him, and made a mental note to try and bring this part out of Yoongi more often. “Who’s Holly? Jimin asked Yoongi when he got a chance. He groaned under the weight of the box of books he’d made the mistake of picking up, and Joongi quickly grabbed it from his arms when they reached his Toyota. “He’s my dog,” Yoongi’s brother answered before Yoongi could even open his mouth. “But this guy right here likes to pretend that he’s his dog.” “I do not,” Yoongi protested childishly. “I just…have a soft spot for him in my heart,” he explained, practically making heart eyes and smiling wistfully. “Yeah,” Joongi nodded, shrugging at Yoongi dismissively, and winking at Jimin. “He’s in love with my dog.” Jimin grinned. He wanted to make a rude comment about worrying that there wasn’t enough room in Yoongi’s heart for him, too, but he wasn’t sure if Joongi knew about their relationship, and he didn’t want to mess things up by accidentally saying something. The trip to the post office didn’t take long, thankfully, although Jimin would be happy if he never had to see another customs slip. (He knew he would have to.) Yoongi treated his brother to lunch afterward to thank him for his help. Throughout the entire time they were waiting in line to order, and also as they sat in the booth eating the typical diner food, Yoongi kept putting his hands on Jimin’s neck, or resting his arm on his shoulders, and Jimin didn’t miss the way Joongi’s eyes zeroed in on the touches every time they occurred. Uncomfortable, Jimin shrugged Yoongi’s hands off, pretending to reach for something, but as soon as he moved back, Yoongi’s hands were on him again. “Yoongi,” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough for only Yoongi to hear. “What?” the other man didn’t appear to even notice what he was doing. Joongi cleared his throat, and they both looked up at him. He had a small smile on his lips that he was clearly trying to disguise. “You might want to stop being so obvious if you’re trying to keep it a secret, Yoongi-yah,” he teased, and the hand was suddenly pulled away from Jimin shoulders. Yoongi scooted a couple inches away, and Jimin couldn’t help his hand from clenching, hidden in his sleeve. “Oh, come on, I didn’t mean—” “Don’t tell Mom or Dad,” Yoongi said lowly, shifting just his leg so that it touched Jimin’s under the table. Jimin felt his stomach ease a little, and his fingers loosened from their tight grip on his sleeve. “I won’t.” “They still don’t…know about me,” Yoongi frowned, sounding small for the first time Jimin had known him. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Joongi seemed to hesitate, then. “If it’s any consolation, though, I don’t think they will get upset.” Yoongi just shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want them to know. Not…not yet, at least.” His brother nodded. “I understand. Your secret’s safe with me.” After the awkward conversation with Yoongi’s brother, Jimin wasn’t sure what to say to Yoongi once they were home and alone again. He was mildly surprised when Yoongi pulled him close and began kissing him on the sofa. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin didn’t need to ask why, so he just let the musician continue kissing and touching him until Yoongi calmed down and just held him against his chest.   One day, after Jimin got his weekly pay, he secretly went into a walk-in clinic and paid out of pocket for a heath test. Despite going through those check-ups multiple times before, he was nervous as the doctor touched him and asked him the usual questions. He was done in a matter of minutes, though, and was asked to come back in a few days to get his results. Jimin hadn’t really cared much before about his results, always feeling detached from the situation, but this time he cared more than anything. He did his best to hide his anxiety from Yoongi during that time, but he was sure that the other man suspected something was up. When he picked up the results, he scanned quickly through them with bated breath and then hurried home as soon as he’d seen the final diagnosis. Yoongi was sitting in front of his computer, as usual. Jimin put the paper down in front of him without a word, directly on the keyboard. “What’s this?” Yoongi looked up, confused. “Read it,” Jimin said, not letting any emotion into his voice. Yoongi frowned, and looked back down at the paper. His frown increased as he skimmed down the page as he realized what the paper was for, but then he reached the part Jimin was waiting for, and he looked up quickly. “I’m clean,” Jimin said softly. “You don’t have to worry about catching anything from me anymore.” He wasn’t expecting Yoongi to stand up suddenly. “Oh, Jimin, that’s not—I’m just happy that you’re healthy. I couldn’t bear it if you got sick. That’s serious stuff. Did you know I had to get an HIV test done for my visa?" Jimin stared at him in shock. "You what? How is that any of their business?" He shrugged. "It's part of the arts and entertainment visa. I guess it's to ensure that us dirty foreign artists don't spread an epidemic in their country." “But still.” They were quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other, and then Jimin bit his lip and ducked his head as he asked with a small smile, “Does this mean we can have sex without a condom, now?” Yoongi’s mouth dropped open, and he whacked Jimin over the head with the paper that was still in his hand. “Yah, seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” “Yes?” Yoongi closed his eyes in exasperation, and then opened them again. “Maybe,” he said as he sat back down at his computer. “Not right now, though.” “Obviously.” “Obviously.” He poked Jimin’s side, right where he was most ticklish, as he was walking past him. “Hey! That’s foul play!” Yoongi only rolled his eyes, his lips twitching in his telltale trying-to-not- smile expression. “Okay. Now let me work.” Barely two hours later, Yoongi called him over. “Jimin, can you help me with something?” “Sure, what is it?” Jimin set down the tablet he was using to surf the internet and shuffled over to Yoongi. “I’m working on this song, and it’s mostly rap, but there’s a vocal accompaniment throughout the song. Would you be willing to sing it? Just for the guide, of course,” he added quickly. Jimin felt himself start to get excited. “Of course I’ll sing for you! Any time you want me to, you only need to ask,” he grinned, pulling the piano stool over to the desk to sit on. It didn’t take long for Jimin’s enthusiasm to dissipate. The song was in Korean, and although Jimin had thought he was starting to get a handle of speaking in Korean, apparently his pronunciation was still awful. (No one ever told him that, though.) Pretty much the only English words he sang in the song were “so far away” and Jimin kept mixing up the rest of the words. He eventually managed it with a lot of coaching from Yoongi. When they finally finished Jimin’s part, and connected it to Yoongi’s emotional rap—Jimin could get the gist of the lyrics’ meaning, but not a hundred percent of it—he sat back in awe at the masterpiece that Yoongi had created. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed. The combination of their voices really worked well. Even though the quality wasn’t anything like a song produced by a mainstream musician, Jimin could still feel the potential for it to be truly great. “I love your voice,” Yoongi sighed. “It’s such a shame…” he trailed off. Jimin frowned. “What’s a shame?” “It’s just that, you have so much potential with your voice. You could really make something out of it. But you’d never be able to pursue your singing seriously.” “What? Why not?” Jimin couldn’t believe the negative statement that had just come out of Yoongi’s mouth. What did he mean, Jimin could never pursue his singing? Granted, it wasn’t exactly something that he’d ever considered for himself, making a career out of music, but to just go outright and say that he couldn’t do it…. “If you ever choose to become a singer, your past will definitely be dug up. Anyone who gets even remotely famous nearly always gets their past unearthed by fans—especially by antifans digging for dirt. It wouldn’t take long at all for people to find out about your history.” Jimin felt sudden anger boil within him. He stood up so suddenly that the stool fell over. He didn’t pick it up. “Why would you say that?” he hissed, already feeling himself closing off his defenses. Yoongi looked up, startled. “What do you mean? It’s the truth. I’m just saying—” “I’m too filthy to become anything, that’s what you’re saying. I have to keep myself hidden, because if anyone finds out that I used to do porn, it’ll ruin my career. No one wants to listen to a fuckboy who lets other men—” “Jimin, stop it—” “No, youstop it. I know, okay? I know! That’s all I’ll ever be. I’m just the leftovers, and no one will ever—” “Jimin, no, please—” But Jimin cut the entire conversation off. “I’m going for a run. Don’t follow me. I need to be alone for a bit.” He didn’t wait to see if Yoongi would stop him. He grabbed his wallet and phone, and stormed out of the apartment. It was chilly out, typical mid-autumn weather. He hadn’t brought a jacket, but he knew he’d warm up once he started running. He switched off his phone and then took his usual route, going by the park and toward the waterfront. It was beginning to get late in the afternoon, and the days were shorter now that winter was approaching, so the sun was already hanging low on the horizon. He paused once he reached his favorite place on the boardwalk, walking over to lean against the railings and let the strong ocean breeze cut through his hoodie. He needed the shocking refresher. The longer he stood there, staring out over the waves, watching the light disappear and letting the salty air envelope him, the more he realized that as much as Yoongi’s words had hurt him, he hadn’t been wrong. He hadn’t been judging Jimin. He hadn’t told him to not be a singer. He had only warned him that he would encounter huge problems if he did. And the hardest part to admit was that he hadn’t even been exaggerating. Jimin knew that. Yoongi didn’t deserve Jimin’s anger. He may have not been thinking when he phrased his words, but he hadn’t meant any of it to hurt Jimin. Once again, he had only been trying to protect Jimin. The cold had seeped into his body by this point, and he was starting to shiver, so he did a few quick stretches, rolled his shoulders back a few times, and then turned to run back home. The second Jimin walked in the door, Yoongi was in front of him, looking distraught. “Why did you turn your phone off?” he exclaimed, reaching for Jimin’s shoulders but then holding himself back. His voice was strangely hoarse, and his face seemed puffy. Jimin sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I know you didn’t mean it like that.” “Jimin,” Yoongi said, voice sounding absolutely despondent. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—” Jimin surged forward and seized his face between both hands, pulling him in for a heated kiss. Yoongi made a choked sound and responded by pushing him hard against the wall. He wasn’t sure how they made it over to the sofa, but before he knew it, Jimin had been divested of his hoodie and shirt, and Yoongi’s mouth was everywhere. Jimin struggled to pull at Yoongi’s shirt, until the other man finally got the idea and broke contact so he could arch back and rid himself of it. Jimin immediately ran a hand up his body from his belly button to the left side of his chest. There was a tense pause, heavy with both of their breathing, before they both moved toward each other, meeting in the middle. “I love you, I love you, Jimin,” Yoongi nearly whimpered. “Don’t, don’t ever forget that. I know I don’t ever tell you that, but I really do.” Jimin choked slightly as he licked and sucked at Yoongi’s neck, as Yoongi kissed his temple softly. “I know. I know you do. I’m sorry.” Eventually they moved upstairs from the uncomfortable sofa, depositing the rest of their clothing at the edge of the loft mattress. They moved against each other, slowly at first, then more frantically as Jimin unraveled, high whines spilling from his throat, only to be swallowed up by Yoongi’s mouth. The feeling of Yoongi’s bare skin sliding in and out of him, rubbing and pushing against his prostate again and again, pulled him apart in the best way possible. He could feel his heartbeat increase as he grew closer to his release. Abruptly Jimin tensed around him, mouth open in a soundless cry as thick drops hit his stomach and chest. The aftershocks kept him clenching and unclenching around Yoongi’s cock several times until abruptly Yoongi groaned, tightening his grip on Jimin’s hips. The rush of hot semen spilling into his body felt so right, knowing it was Yoongi’s and no one else’s. Jimin stared up at the man trembling above him. He loved seeing how gone Yoongi looked coming down from his high, continuing to buck his hips shallowly, the sound a lot wetter than before. Jimin felt his mouth fill with saliva, and he struggled to swallow it down before it dripped past the corners of his mouth. He spread his legs a little wider and then locked them around Yoongi’s hips, pulling him even deeper. He felt a little liquid spill out around Yoongi’s dick as some of the cum was pushed out of his body. “Fuck, Jimin.” “Feels so good,” he breathed. “I want you to fill me up and paint me all over.” Yoongi made a choking noise—Jimin couldn’t tell if it was caused by amusement or surprise—and thrust a little harder. “You can’t just saythings like that, Jimin.” They were both shaking, but neither wanted to stop. Yoongi lazily circled his hips as he pulled Jimin’s chin up to explore his mouth, effectively muffling the desperate whimpers and moans slipping from his lips. He eventually pulled out, but Jimin’s hand shot down to push inside himself despite the overwhelming sensitivity, pushing the cum back in. Yoongi covered his hand with his own, massaging the area and lacing their fingers together before drawing his hand away. He brought the hand to his lips, kissing Jimin’s knuckles gently. Chapter End Notes I figured we'd end on a good note, this time around. I was going to be cruel, and cut you guys off right in the middle of the fight, but then...I couldn't do it, hahaha. Be thankful, because there's worse stuff coming. I feel like this chapter was a little different, because we got to see Yoongi's more vulnerable side. I really enjoyed writing the things Jimin noticed; I think his eyes are opening up more to everything around him. Side note...I have no idea if Joongi is actually Yoongi's brother's name. I tried looking it up, but some people said it was unreleased to the public, and others said it was "Jun Ki," but I figured it would follow the same rules as Yoongi's name, and switched it. So don't go assuming I know what his name is, LOL. The next chapter is nearly all written, actually, since I ended up having to split this chapter in two--it got too long! So you can probably expect another update over the weekend. ;) Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! They keep me motivated! ***** Chapter XIII ***** Chapter Notes Another long chapter! Warnings are in place...it's going to be a roller coaster ride of emotions here. Just a reminder, "/dialogue/" means people are speaking in Korean. There's a LOT of switching back and forth, so even if it looks like maybe I forgot to add the slash, I can assure you that it was intentional. I reread their dialogue a million times to make sure. The stuff I left without slashes is dialogue I felt they would probably say in English anyway, even if everyone in the conversation had been previously speaking in Korean. See the end of the chapter for more notes XIII.   Yoongi had another performance scheduled for over the weekend. Jimin had known about it, of course, but what he hadn’t known was that not only Hoseok, but also Namjoon would be participating in the show. Namjoon was set to arrive two days before the show, and would stay through until Monday. Yoongi showed Jimin the flyers advertising the event. They had photos of ‘Agust D’ and ‘J-Hope’ (Hoseok’s stage name, which explained his nickname, ‘Hobi’), and then in the third photo, the rapper’s silhouette was blacked out, with question marks where his name would be. ‘RM,’ as Namjoon called himself, was to be the surprise performer at the city’s large K-Culture Event. Namjoon arrived in the evening on Thursday. After dropping most of his stuff off at his hotel, he took an Uber over to Yoongi’s to have dinner with them. He was taller than Jimin had expected. Was this going to become a trend? He thought back to his meeting of Joongi. Sometimes it felt like everyone was taller than him. “Oh my god, you’re so cute!” Namjoon exclaimed, and nearly dropped his bag as he tried to hug Jimin in the doorway of Yoongi’s apartment. The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he otherwise kept a straight face. “Don’t you go trying to steal him from me, Monie.” Namjoon made a face as he let go of Jimin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, hyung. But I can still claim him as my favorite dongsaeng!” Jimin blushed and stepped back, feeling awkward. He’d talked with Namjoon plenty of times, but meeting him in person was strange. They lounged around Yoongi’s apartment for several hours, chowing down on Mexican food from one of Namjoon’s favorite local restaurants, and chatting about a combination of the most random things in addition to more practical matters, like Yoongi and Jimin’s move to Seoul. Yoongi and Namjoon enjoyed several beers, while Jimin only asked once if he could have one (Yoongi said no, again; why did he always have to be the responsible one?) before settling with a cherry cola. He certainly didn’t mind the way Yoongi absently petted his hair as they sprawled on the sofa together, Namjoon spinning around and rolling back and forth on Yoongi’s workstation chair as he talked. Jimin noticed for the first time that Namjoon was easily distracted, and jumped back and forth between topics. When Saturday evening rolled around, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok met Taehyung at the bus station, where they all then piled into an Uber together to get to the event venue where they met up with Namjoon. He was wearing a low bucket hat and a face mask to hide his identity. Jimin thought it made him stand out even more than if he’d gone without. The event was both indoor and outdoor, with various stages, folding tables and chairs lining the outer areas, and booths for buying food and drinks. It was mostly a combination of bar food and Korean grab-and-go food, but the smell of grilling meat and Korean spices filling the air made Jimin’s mouth salivate. Although the attendees were overwhelmingly Korean (or of some kind of Asian background; Jimin couldn’t tell the difference yet), there was also a significant number of people from all backgrounds. It was pretty cool to see how many people were interested in Korean culture. Jimin wished he knew more about his own country, but he supposed there was plenty of time to learn. This was just a start. The three rappers only had enough time to grab a quick bite to eat before they had to rush backstage.  "Right, we'll meet back up over there after our stage," Yoongi said, pointing to an area toward the back where there were some more secluded tables. "You guys stick together, okay? I don't want to lose either of you in the crowd." “/We’re not kids, Suga-hyung,/” Taehyung laughed. “/Don’t worry about us. I can’t wait to see you rap! Jimin told me how badass you are on stage,/” he winked at Jimin as he said this, and Jimin kicked him playfully. “/Shut up,/” he scolded. But he turned to Yoongi and smiled. “Good luck. You guys are going to kill it.” Yoongi smirked, already starting to shift into his stage persona. “Of course we are.”   One by one the lights on stage lit up, illuminating each rapper for a few seconds as they started rapping a line, then fading out before moving on to the next one. It was all very dramatic, and Jimin cheered along with everyone as the energy increased in the venue. He could practically feel the excitement when RM was revealed, the arena nearly exploding with the force of the cheers. Jimin had no idea RM was that popular of a rapper. He had always just been the guy Yoongi talked to through the computer. Then there was a big flash and all three rappers became visible as the stage was lit up.  "/This is so dope!/" Taehyung yelled in Jimin's ear, jumping up and down and dabbing to the music. "/They're so savage, oh my god!/" Jimin realized that Taehyung probably could understand the lyrics better than he could. He could pick out words here and there, but the speed at which they spat out the words was way too fast for Jimin. But despite not understanding every word, he still enjoyed the show. He loved seeing the badass version of Yoongi. It made his heart race, to the point that he needed to bite his lip and look away from Agust D, watching the other two instead so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed when the deep voiced rapper stared him down and stuck his tongue out obscenely in between lyrics that Jimin knewwere dirty. As soon as the three rappers’ stage ended, and a DJ took over again, Jimin turned to Taehyung. “Taehyung-ah, I’m gonna quick use the bathroom,” Jimin shouted in Taehyung’s ear over the loud music. Taehyung nodded and gestured that he’d stay there to wait. He was having too much fun dancing like a crazy person to the energetic music. Jimin grinned and mouthed, “I’ll be right back!” He slowly made his way through the thick crowd until he found the hallway with the restrooms. It was much quieter there, and he felt like he could finally breathe properly again. There was no one in the bathroom when he entered, so he took a moment to fix his hair and straighten his clothes. He stared at his face in the mirror, touching his flushed cheeks gently. He still felt a little hot and bothered from watching Agust D on stage. He bit his lip as he tried to not smile at the thought of what he wanted to do with the rapper once they got home that evening. He shook his head and went to over to the urinals.  He was just finishing up at the urinal when the door swung open, and a heavily inebriated man stumbled into the bathroom. “Yo,” he saluted to Jimin, grinning widely with bright, white teeth, before going over to the urinal directly next to him. Jimin raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, zipping back up and going over to wash his hands. Weirdo. He looked up into the mirror when he suddenly felt a heavy weight against his back. “You kinda cute,” the man said, reaching both arms around him to wash his own hands. “You an idol?” “Um, do you mind?” Jimin scowled, trying to push back to put more room between himself and the counter and hopefully duck under the guy’s arms. Abruptly those arms locked around his waist, and he was pushed even harder against the counter. “Ooh, I like the way you think,” hot breath reeking of beer was suddenly in his ear. No, this couldn’t be happening. He yelped as he was yanked away from the counter and shoved against the wall. “Stop it, let go of—!” Jimin was cut off as his mouth was covered, the man kissing him hard to keep him from making noise. Jimin could taste the booze in his mouth. It was disgusting. He gripped both of Jimin’s wrists in one fist, holding them tightly against the tile, high above Jimin’s head. Jimin squirmed and tried kicking, but despite not being that much taller than him, the drunk man was packing muscle and simply leaned harder against him to hold him still. When the man’s right hand began pulling at Jimin’s jeans, he whimpered and tried screaming, but the sound was just swallowed by the man’s mouth. Stop it, stop it, please, he begged in his head. Somebody, please. He desperately wished for someone to come through the door, but no one did. The sounds of loud music were muffled by the heavy metal door; Jimin was sure that even if he did manage to call for help, no one would hear him. He choked when a long, thick finger pushed deep into him. He tried again to push the drunk man away, but that only served to force the finger in harder. “Ya wan’ h’rder?” the man slurred against his mouth, barely intelligible. “C’n give ya harder,” he suddenly enunciated strongly, and Jimin gasped as two fingers pushed so deeply into him that the man’s top knuckles nearly breached his entrance. His fingernails dragged against Jimin's prostate. The man’s mouth was back on his before he could think to take advantage of his momentarily unobstructed vocals. It felt like ages later but was likely only a minute or two when the door swung open, loud music pouring into the bathroom briefly, and then suddenly a startled but familiar voice broke through. “What the—?! Get your fucking hands off him, motherfucker!” Jimin had never heard Namjoon’s voice so filled with fury. He was practically spitting. The man was ripped away from him, and there was a loud crack as the tall rapper punched the guy full in the face, probably breaking his nose. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you filthy piece of shit?” Jimin slid to the floor, quietly zipped his jeans back up, and then curled his legs up to his chest as he heaved for air through his sobs. He heard a dull thud as Namjoon shoved the guy to the ground, before walking over to crouch down by Jimin. “Jimin-ah. My god. Let’s get you out of here.” He helped him to his feet, but Jimin’s knees buckled and his vision swirled. “Whoa, it’s all right, I’ve got you.” He felt his feet leave the ground as Namjoon scooped him up as if he weighed nothing. Jimin clutched the front of his jacket, hiding his face as they went back out into the crowd. A moment later, the noise seemed muffled slightly. He realized Namjoon was taking him backstage. "/Namjoon-ah, what're you—Jimin?!/" It was Hoseok. A hand touched the back of his head. "/What happened?/" "/Where's Suga-hyung?/" Namjoon asked instead of answering. "/He's—hang on, I'll get him./" Namjoon set Jimin down on a chair, crouching down to his level so he could speak quietly to him. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked, hands firm and comforting on Jimin's shoulders. Jimin shook his head. He'd had worse. He just needed to pretend that this was another video. He had literally lost count of the number of times he’d been forced to endure much worse. The guy hadn’t even gotten his dick out of his pants. It had been nothing. He’d be fine, he told himself. He had to be strong. "You sure? Jimin?" "I'm, I'm fine," he mumbled, head down. Namjoon tsked. "You're not fine. Don't pretend. Just because it's not the first ti—" "Jimin!" Yoongi's voice cut through their whispering. The relief at hearing his deep voice, combined with the shock at what Namjoon was about to say, sent a wave of tears down his cheeks, and he leaned forward, folding himself nearly in half as he covered his face with his hands and hid against his knees. Namjoon knew? Had Yoongi told him? When? "What the hell happened?" Yoongi demanded. "Some shit-faced douchebag accosted him in the bathroom." Jimin couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped his mouth. Why were they making such a big deal out of it? They were making it worse. If he could just forget it, pretend it hadn’t happened, he’d be fine. A hand pressed soothingly against his back. "I'm here," Yoongi's voice murmured in his ear, before he turned back to Namjoon. "Please don't tell me he was—no. Where the fuck was Taehyung?" Sharp anger seeped into Yoongi's voice, and the hand on his back was tense. "They were supposed to stay together! I told them to stick together!" "Not his fault," Jimin cried. "I was just going to the bathroom. Please don't tell him. I don't want him to know." He didn't want Taehyung to start treating him differently. It was such a relief being around someone who didn't know anything about how fucked up Jimin's life was. And he couldn't burden Taehyung with that. Yoongi begrudgingly agreed to not tell him. "I'm gonna go see if I can get that guy kicked out, if he's not gone already," Namjoon said, tapping Yoongi on the shoulder. "You want to give him a swift kick in the nuts for me before he's kicked out?" Yoongi asked, and Jimin didn't think he was joking. "I'll see what I can do. I'll also see if I can find Tae—" "/Hyung, I can't find Jimin anywhere—oh, there you are!/" Jimin quickly straightened up and wiped his face, grateful for the dim lighting. He forced a smile on his face, ignoring the way Yoongi stared at him. "/Hey! Sorry Tae, I ran into Namjoon-hyung and he brought me back here./" Taehyung hesitated, looking between them all. "/Is something wrong?/" "/No! No, nothing's wrong./" He rushed to stand up, and nearly fell, if it wasn't for Yoongi already holding onto him. "I'm fine. I just...just twisted my ankle," he lied, switching back to English because he didn't know how to say it in Korean. "Oh." He looked like he didn't believe Jimin, but then he nodded. "Okay. In that case.../You guys were sick! I've never heard rap so fast, and you really killed it with that Cypher! You’ve got to tell me where I can download your tracks./" Namjoon awkwardly laughed and thanked him, before excusing himself to "go take care of something." Yoongi grunted, tight-lipped. Jimin's guilt at single-handedly ruining their entire evening made him wish he could just disappear. Maybe the ground would open up and swallow him whole. That would be good. He subtly reached out his hand and caught Yoongi's pinkie, holding it tightly in his own. When Yoongi squeezed back, Jimin felt himself calm down just a little.  Jimin stuck to Yoongi's side for the rest of the night as they sat at a table in a somewhat secluded area of the venue, but he felt like he was being torn in two directions. He did his best to be excited with Taehyung, but any time there was a lull in the conversation, he found himself staring off into space. He barely registered Yoongi suggesting that they head home because “Jimin seems tired." "No, I'm fine," he protested, grabbing Taehyung's wrist and pulling him up from their table. "/Let's go check out that Kpop fashion stage outside, Tae. You wanted to see the fashion walk, didn’t you?/" "/Yeah, that's true.../" He knew Taehyung could tell there was something wrong with him. He could see that Taehyung had been confused when Yoongi made no effort to engage him in conversation, and was clearly angry with him for some reason that the youngest of the group didn’t understand. "/Then let's go,/" Jimin tugged on his wrist. When Yoongi started to stand, he pushed him back down. "No, you stay, Suga-hyung," he ordered, the name still feeling strange but not unpleasant on his tongue. "You'll be bored anyway. Catch up with these two." Yoongi caught his hand just as he was turning to leave. He squeezed it tightly. "Stay together." Taehyung threw his arm around Jimin's shoulders as they walked outside into the crisp night. Jimin took in a deep breath, liking the way his insides chilled with the entrance of the autumn air.  "/Wow, it's cold out here!/" Taehyung exclaimed, gripping Jimin's shoulder tightly. "/Let's grab something hot to eat first./" They quickly bought a plate of spicy tteokbokki covered in cheese to share, and then hurried over to the crowd of people by the low stage. Jimin didn't really want to eat, but he did, nearly burning his tongue in the process. He halfway paid attention to the fashion show, nodding and agreeing whenever Taehyung said something. He didn't realize he was shivering until he felt a jacket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up in surprise at Taehyung, who smiled down at him.  "/Don't worry about me; I run hot. But I don't want my little Chim Chim freezing out here!/" He leaned close to whisper in Jimin's ear. "/Suga-hyung might kill me./" Jimin forced a smile and pulled the jacket tighter. It was nearing the end of the show when Jimin suddenly felt sick. He watched a couple a few feet away from them flirting and touching each other, the man getting a little handsy with the woman. She clearly didn't mind, but Jimin felt his stomach rise, and he wrenched himself away from Taehyung, bolting over to the edge of the lot where he fell to his knees and lost the entire contents of his stomach to the grass. He dry-heaved for several moments as Taehyung rubbed his back. When he was done, he wiped his face with the leftover paper napkin Taehyung handed him. “You’re all white,” he pointed out, switching to English. “Let’s go, okay?” He pulled Jimin shakily to his feet and gave him a quick hug. “Don’t tell them, okay?” Jimin muttered, continuing to wipe at his face even though there was probably nothing left on it. “Okay, I won’t, but you kinda smell like vomit right now, so they’re gonna know.” “Thanks, I needed to hear that.” Jimin took a deep, puke-flavored breath, and then straightened up. Taehyung was right; the other three figured out what had happened immediately. Jimin gratefully took the cup of cola Hoseok handed him, and swished it around his mouth briefly before swallowing it down, the carbonation burning all the way down his raw throat. Then Yoongi pulled Taehyung’s jacket off of him, tossing it heavily back to its owner, and replaced it with his own. Jimin pulled the still-warm material tight around himself, breathing in the calming scent of the rapper. He wished it was Yoongi’s arms around him instead, but they were in public, in a place where many people had their eyes on them due to the rappers’ presence; that wouldn’t be possible. Jimin and Yoongi left before the others, sitting silently in the Uber on the way home. Jimin took a scalding shower and pulled on a pair of comfy sleep pants and the long-sleeved t-shirt Yoongi had worn the night before. When Yoongi finally climbed up into bed with him, Jimin curled into his chest, wrapping himself in the other’s arms. He took a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of Yoongi’s shampoo, and then let himself melt against him. He didn’t fall asleep instantly, but when he eventually did slip into unconsciousness, he was granted a dreamless slumber.   By morning, Jimin’s old defenses were back up. He went for his usual morning run, and when they went to meet up with Namjoon for lunch, he was his usual cheerful self. The other two didn’t seem to know how to react to his change of behavior, but he continued to ignore the awkwardness until Namjoon finally shrugged and partook in the denial game. They had gone to the pizza restaurant at the mall, and the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, got so excited when Namjoon went up to them to chat. He seemed very happy that they remembered him after all that time. “So, what’s Jin-hyung up to these days?” he asked them as Jimin took a large bite of pizza, watching the exchange. “I lost touch with him after starting university.” “Oh, Seokjinie’s living in Seoul now! He went to Seoul National University, and now he’s working on getting his master’s in Business Administration and Marketing there.” Namjoon let out an impressed whistle. “He got into SNU? That’s crazy.” “Would you like his contact info, Namjoon-ah? I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” “Sure! That would be great, Mrs. Kim. Thanks,” Namjoon smiled widely as Mrs. Kim pulled out her phone to pull up Jin’s info, and then wrote it down on the back of an order slip. “I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city all this time and I never knew.” Namjoon came back to sit down and enjoy his pizza finally. “Jin-hyung’s in Seoul!” he told them. “We heard,” Yoongi deadpanned, and got a whack on the shoulder for that. “Hey, is that any way to treat your hyung? Anyway, that’s great. We’ll have to all get back together once we’re there.” Jimin had to leave them after lunch to head to work, where he was a little glad that Taehyung wasn’t working the same shift. Taehyung never worked Sundays, since that was his homework day. Jimin welcomed the monotonous cycle of working the register, and even felt semi-normal by the end of the night. He wasn’t expecting Yoongi to pick him up, but when ten rolled around, the rapper walked through the doors, helmet in hand. He bought a pack of tofu, two lollipops—one of which he opened up and stuck into Jimin’s mouth—and two bottles of soju. “Interesting choice of purchases,” Jimin teased, smirking slightly around the lollipop. “Can I see your ID, sir?” Yoongi rolled his eyes as he pulled it from his wallet.   Later, as they were lying in bed together, Jimin pulled Yoongi close to slot their mouths together, licking deep into Yoongi’s mouth. He maneuvered the other so that he was on top of Jimin, and he slipped his hands underneath Yoongi’s shirt to smooth his hands over his backside. Their movements intensified for several minutes, but then Yoongi pulled back. “Why are you stopping?” Jimin whined, trying to draw him back down. Yoongi hesitated. “It’s fine,” Jimin mumbled. “I’m still clean. He only used his fingers. He didn’t actually fuck me.” Yoongi made a pained face. “That’s not—that’s not what I was going to ask.” “What then?” Jimin sighed, looking away and picking at a loose thread in the pillowcase. “Are you really okay with this? It’s not too soon? I mean, look—” he traced his fingertips gently along Jimin’s lower abdomen, just above his groin, sending an unpleasant jolt through him, “you’re flinching. If you’re flinching when I touch you, it’s too soon.” “Please just fuck me, Yoongi,” Jimin begged, turning his watering eyes on the man hovering over him. “Maybe it’s not okay right now, but it will be. You make it better.” Yoongi eventually gave in, and Jimin cried as he held on tightly to him, panting and spent on the mattress. Jimin didn’t know if he felt better. But Yoongi’s fingers running through his hair, his soft kisses to his cheekbones and corner of his lips, the way he held him securely against himself…at least he knew he felt safe.   Maybe it was the tension from the incident at the event. Maybe it was the stress from preparing to move halfway across the world. Jimin wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he started feeling suffocated. He spent a lot of his free time hanging out with Taehyung. He was starting to feel like a real, best friend, and Jimin was so happy that he would still be able to see him in Seoul after moving. One afternoon, Taehyung had the brilliant idea for Jimin to do a dance performance on the street in the city. When Jimin explained that he didn’t want anyone to know who he was, Taehyung handed him a black face mask. “/Just wear that, and I don’t know, a hat or something. It’ll be fine. Seriously, you should do this, Jimin-ah. You have so much talent!/” Jimin found himself getting more excited about the idea of dancing out in public, and they picked out a somewhat busy—but not too busy—street corner for him to set up the speaker Taehyung borrowed from his roommate. Jimin made sure the mask was well covering his lower face before tugging down Yoongi's red snapback slightly and pulling the hood of his gray hoodie up over his head. He did a few stretches in his baggy black sweatpants, and made sure his Timberlands were tied tightly. Jimin had set up a playlist ahead of time, mostly hip hop in nature, but a few fusions as well; classical violins or piano with a heavy hip hop beat. He felt a little self-conscious at first, but once he started dancing and letting the music flow through him, it was completely natural. He garnered quite a crowd, and even got a few dance offs with some cocky university kids when Taehyung riled them up enough to jump in. Jimin and Taehyung stayed for just about two hours before they had to pack up and go to meet Yoongi and Hobi for dinner at a local burger shop. Jimin felt high off the energy from dancing for others, and he was very koala- y with Taehyung all the way to the restaurant, recounting various memorable moments from the street performance. “/What’re you two both so happy about?/” Hobi asked them suspiciously as they were giggling to themselves while eating together a while later. “Jiminie is the bomb!” Taehyung exclaimed in English, clapping Jimin on the back and accidentally making him choke a bit on his curly fries. “Oh?” Yoongi looked over, interested. “How so?” “/He did a street dance over by the park, and it was so sick!/” “Yeah, some people passing by even stopped to do dance offs with me,” Jimin grinned. “/A bunch of people were taking videos, too,/” Taehyung added. Yoongi’s smile dropped, and he set his drink down. “/What if the videos go viral?/” he asked tensely. “/It’s fine; I was wearing a mask,/” Jimin said at the same time that Taehyung exclaimed, “/That would be sweet! Then I can meme you!/” Taehyung laughed, grabbing Jimin’s head and rubbing their skulls together roughly, thoroughly messing up Jimin’s hair. “/You’ll be internet famous!/” Jimin saw Yoongi open his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut without a word. He stood up angrily and went over to dump his trash in the bin. Part of Jimin wanted to go after him, but the other part of him was still sore as he remembered their argument the other day about singing. He let Yoongi stay angry. If Hoseok, who was normally perceptive about the way Yoongi and Jimin acted around each other, had noticed the tension, he didn’t say anything. Taehyung, of course, didn’t know what was going on, so he got mad on Jimin’s behalf once Yoongi was back in his seat. “/Why are you guys allowed to get up on stage, but he isn’t allowed to even dance in the street? You can’t tell him what to do. You’re not his father./” “Thank-fucking-god I’m not.” Yoongi snapped, and then grabbed his jacket. “I’m out. See you at home, Jimin.” Then, without waiting to see if Jimin came after him, he stormed out of the restaurant. Jimin blanched, and started to get out of his seat, unsure if he should follow. Yoongi was going home, right? Was he not intending to bring Jimin with him? Jimin closed his mouth, which had been open in intended protest, and sat back down. He put his head on the table and groaned. “Don’t worry about him, Jiminie,” Hobi said, reaching over the small table to pat him on the head. “Just give him some time to cool off. I can call an Uber for you later.” “/Why is he being such an asshole about this?/” Taehyung groused as he finished off the last of his fries. Chapter End Notes I never said that Jimin and Yoongi's relationship was perfect.... When I was writing Jimin's dance, I was inspired by that video of Hope on the Street (https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=3hnQNZcaoWk)...which you can probably also tell was the reference for Jimin's drawing last chapter, lol! Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! ***** Chapter XIV ***** Chapter Notes Hi! I've been sick all week, and couldn't write much of anything, but I feel a little better now (and had to take time off work, so that also gave me more time), so here's another weekend update! Warnings for this chapter: it's a sad one. Get your tissues ready. And listen to this playlist of sad songs: https://youtu.be/ UKyb_3gBmj4 If you start the music right when you start reading the chapter, it's pretty accurate to each scene, actually. Although depending on your reading speed, it might not be long enough/be too long. See the end of the chapter for more notes XIV.   When Jimin got home that night, Yoongi didn’t apologize for storming off, so Jimin didn’t apologize for dancing in public. He still didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He’d been careful. He’d barely been able to see his eyes when he’d checked his appearance in the metro station’s bathroom mirror before they headed over toward the park. What did Yoongi expect him to do? Stay locked up and hidden forever? The apartment was awkward. It wasn’t that Yoongi was giving him the silent treatment; he still said things like, “You’re back,” when Jimin got home, “I washed up already, you can use the bathroom,” and “I’m going to bed. Night.” Jimin climbed up into bed much later, and he couldn’t tell if Yoongi was asleep or not. He settled on the opposite side of the mattress, the farthest away that he’d slept in a while. Sleep didn’t come easily, and he had to fight against the angry tears that threatened to rise out of him, but eventually he did fall asleep. It was a fitful sleep, with dreams full of unwanted hands and angry voices. Jimin woke up wrapped in warmth, a strong heat pressed against his back. As he became more awake, he realized that Yoongi had pulled him back against his chest, and had nestled his chin against Jimin’s shoulder, his hot breath spreading moisture against Jimin’s neck. He sighed, silently, and let himself enjoy the closeness for a bit, until he felt Yoongi begin to stir. Jimin closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He shivered slightly as he felt soft, lingering kisses against his neck, and despite himself couldn’t help it when his breath hitched slightly as Yoongi’s hand rubbed soothing circles against his lower stomach. He turned around in Yoongi’s embrace and captured the other man’s mouth with his own, pulling him tightly against his body. There was a moment of surprise in Yoongi’s expression before he returned the kiss just as eagerly. Jimin was quiet as they moved against each other this time. He wanted the closeness, he wanted Yoongi, but his mind was torn. He stared up at Yoongi, gently touching his sweaty brow as the musician thrust into him, hitting all the right spots. His hand was around Jimin’s dick, twisting and pumping in rhythm, and Jimin just let himself lie back and feel everything. When he came, it was sooner than he expected, and with a startled cry. Yoongi paused momentarily before pushing into him harder in an effort to finish himself off quickly, but when Jimin began to squirm in discomfort, the other man pulled out and made do with his hand, creating a mess on Jimin’s stomach. He collapsed onto Jimin with a wet, squelching sound, and made a brief noise of disgust before sighing and kissing Jimin. “We should get up and shower,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “Yeah,” Jimin replied noncommittedly. Yoongi straightened up. “I’m not carrying you.” “I didn’t ask you to. Go ahead and shower. I’ll be down soon.” Yoongi leaned down once more to give him a quick peck on the lips before he crawled out of bed and swung himself over the side of the loft to climb down the steps. Jimin lay there for several minutes, listening to the shower turn on and the water run through the pipes in the walls. He absently looked down at the sticky mixture on his abdomen that they hadn’t bothered cleaning up. He sighed and reached over to grab some tissues, getting the worst of it before he dragged himself out of bed. Yoongi was just leaving the bathroom when he came down, and Jimin silently passed him, shutting and locking the door. He hadn’t locked the door in a while, but he felt like he wanted the space now. He stood listlessly under the shower spray, almost forgetting to actually wash himself before the water ran cold. “Jimin, hurry up, we’ve got to go!” Yoongi called through the door, knocking loudly and startling him. Jimin quickly finished up and dried off before tossing on his clothes, running a hand through his hair, and brushing his teeth. He hadn’t even eaten yet, why were they leaving already? “Come on, come on, we’re going to be late,” Yoongi urged as soon as he was out of the bathroom. Both Yoongi and Jimin had to work that day. Jimin had nearly forgotten. Yoongi dropped him off at work before heading over to the coffee shop. “Hey, Jimin!” Taehyung greeted him as he stepped into the back of the store to put his things away and clock in. “Hey. What’s up.” Taehyung sighed and frowned at him. “/Is Yoongi still being a jerk?/” “/He’s not a jerk,/” Jimin protested. “/He’s just…ugh, I don’t know. There are a lot of things going on right now, and it’s just…difficult./” “/He sounds way too overprotective, to me. Well, if you ever need a break, you can always come crash in my dorm. We’ve got a little futon sofa you’re welcome to use any time. I’m sure my roommate won’t mind./” Jimin smiled at him as he attached his name tag and headed toward the door. “/ Thanks, but I doubt I’ll need it./” By the end of Jimin’s shift, he had decided that when he got home, he would talk to Yoongi. They could talk things out like the mature adults they were.   It didn’t exactly go as planned. Maybe having a serious discussion about their problems directly after they had both finished up long days at unwanted jobs wasn’t the best idea. It didn’t take long for Jimin to realize that Yoongi had had a hard day of difficult customers, but by that point it was too late to back down. “We need to talk,” Jimin said the second Yoongi walked in the door much later. He’d had to stay late to cover the beginning of someone’s shift when they didn’t show up on time. He’d texted Jimin to let him know he’d be late as soon as he found out. Yoongi glanced up at him as he took his shoes off, frowning. “Can it wait a minute? I need to piss. I had to escape that hell hole before they asked me to take another order.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “Fine, go ahead.” He settled himself down on one of the kitchen stools, knowing that Yoongi would probably head straight to the kitchen after he left the bathroom. He was right. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Yoongi asked, as he reached into the fridge to pull out a Tupperware container of leftovers and a can of beer. He popped it open as he dumped half the contents of the container onto a plate and shoved it into the microwave. He quickly sipped the foam from the lip of the can before it could overflow. Jimin bit his lip. He didn’t know where to start. He’d thought through the entire conversation, guessing what Yoongi would say, what he would respond with…but now that it was right before him, Jimin didn’t know what to say. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?” Yoongi asked, looking him hard in the face. Jimin nodded, and then mentally kicked himself. “Yes,” he said, trying to not sound so weak. “You know why it was risky, right?” “Yes, I know, but I was careful! I can’t, I can’t just hide forever, Yoongi.” “Of course not. But—” “But I feel like I can’t do anything anymore without someone fucking holding my hand,” Jimin burst out suddenly, forgetting all about his intention to do this with a level head. “Everywhere I go, I always have to be with someone! I feel like, like a goddamn baby! I don’t want people holding my hand all the time!” “I’m not holding your hand all the time,” Yoongi sighed, voice aggravatingly calm. “I’m just worried about you. Things keep happening, and I’m trying to keep you safe.” “I just want to be normal,” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady. “But every time you force me to be babysat by someone in public—” “Wait, hold up; when have I ever forced you to do anything? And what do you want me to do, then? Just let you get hurt?!” “That’s not what I’m talking about!” “Then what, Jimin? Explain it to me, because I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.” Jimin stood up and kicked in his stool in frustration. “I hate this!” he exclaimed. “I hate keeping secrets. I hate constantly fearing that someone will find out about my past. And I hate feeling dependent on you!” The room was deathly quiet, and Jimin clenched his fists so tightly that he was sure his knuckles were white. He was breathing heavily. Yoongi was silent, mouth slightly open. Jimin frowned and pushed himself away from the counter. “Oh, and apparently you told Namjoon about me? When exactly did you have that conversation? You didn’t even ask me if it was okay. Why would you do that?” “I trust him. I’d trust Namjoon with my life. You can too. You know that.” “That’s not the same. Just because you trust him doesn’t mean I wanted him to know. When did you tell him?” Yoongi frowned. His food lay forgotten on the counter. “I told him shortly after BigHit offered me the job. He didn’t understand why I was going to so much trouble to bring you with me out of the country when I’d only known you for such a short time. So I told him. I didn’t tell him everything,” he added quickly. “I just told him enough to know why it was so important to make it possible for you to leave.” “You didn’t even know if I wanted to leave. We weren’t even together at the time. Why did you think it was okay to—” “Even if we were just friends, I’d still do that for you, Jimin. It doesn’t make a difference; I still would have gone to the same amount of trouble to make sure you could be safe.” “So it doesn’t make a difference whether we’re together? The only difference is that now we fuck.” “What? No! How did you even—” Yoongi put both of his hands to his head. “What do you want me to say, Jimin? First you say you don’t like keeping secrets, then you get on my case about telling Namjoon, when I only told him because he’d start asking questions anyway, and come to his own conclusion, which, for all we know, could have been even worse than what I ended up telling him. What do you want me to fucking say?” “I don’t want you to say anything! That’s not the fucking point!” “What’s the point, then? I’m trying my best here, Jimin.” Jimin could feel himself losing the argument. His mind was a mess, and he couldn’t think straight. What did he want Yoongi to say? To acknowledge that he was wrong? What was he wrong about? Everything Yoongi said made sense, but the anger wouldn’t go away. Jimin felt so confused, and the last thing he wanted was to start crying again in front of Yoongi. He needed to be stronger. Yoongi had waited long enough for Jimin to speak, and when he didn’t show any signs of responding, the older man continued. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re mad at me because you wanted to let go for a bit, and I ruined the mood by pointing out the riskiness of what you did. But I just don’t understand what you’re trying to do, Jimin. You’re all buddy-buddy with Taehyung, practically attached at the hip, but you don’t trust him enough to tell him? And then when he has a fucking fantastic idea,” Yoongi’s voice was laced with icy sarcasm, “you don’t even question it—” “I did question—” “—and you go and do something that will make you even more easily found by your fucking lowlife, failure of a father—” “I told you, I was careful! I had a mask and a hat and everything! Taehyung—” “If Taehyung told you to go jump off the pier, would you do it?” Yoongi interrupted, an abruptly unpleasant expression clouding his face. “If you like him so much, why don’t you just go stay with him instead!” “Maybe I will!” Jimin shouted back, reflexively. And then gasped. They were both silent, identically shocked expressions plastered to their faces. Jimin backed away, feeling the telltale sting in his eyes. “I need to go for a run.” Jimin didn’t need to grab anything. He already had everything in his pockets. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and slammed the door behind him before Yoongi could even call his name. He ran faster than he ever had, feeling the bubble of pain edging its way up through his chest. He slowed down once he reached the boardwalk again, blissfully deserted. He sat down on a dark bench by the railing, and pulled out his phone. Yoongi hadn’t tried contacting him. Jimin stared at his home screen for several minutes before opening up his contacts. There were more names saved now, but Taehyung’s name was still close to the top of the list. ‘is the sofa still available? can i stay at urs tonight?’ He jostled his leg nervously as he waited for a reply. He sent another text. ‘i really need some time away.’ His phone lit up as Taehyung replied. ‘yeah, of course. u ok?’ ‘no. had a big fight w/ yoongi.’  ‘come on over. text me when you get here.’ ‘whats ur address? which dorm?’ Once he knew where to go, Jimin walked back to the apartment to get his bag. He wasn’t in a hurry, and he dreaded Yoongi’s reaction to his decision. Unfortunately, it started raining when he was ten minutes away, so he broke back into a run, trying to keep the water out of his eyes. He was dripping by the time he reached the apartment. He quietly opened the door, hoping against all hope that Yoongi would be in the middle of something, and too distracted to notice his presence. Of course that wasn’t the case. Yoongi wasn’t waiting by the door like he had been before, and he wasn’t upset, either. He was sitting at his work station, phone set carefully in front of himself before his keyboard, and he looked up as Jimin entered. “Do you feel better, now?” he asked calmly, not rudely, or in an antagonizing way, but just asking a genuine question. His eyes flickered to the soaked state of Jimin’s clothing and hair, and wordlessly got up to get a towel. “No,” Jimin said flatly. He walked past Yoongi to grab his bag and start gathering some of his things. He shrugged off the offered towel. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like I’m doing, Yoongi?” “Where are you going?” he changed his question. “Taehyung’s.” He said it with more spite than he intended, but he pushed the guilt down. He wasn’t going to feel bad about this. He needed to do something on his own for once. “It’s not like I have anywhere else I can go.” “Jimin, you don’t have to do this,” Yoongi protested, following him as he went into the bathroom to get his toothbrush and toothpaste. “Yes, I do. It was your idea, anyway,” he pointed out, even though Taehyung had planted the idea into his head earlier that very day. “I didn’t mean—” Yoongi touched his shoulder, and Jimin shrugged it off as he walked toward the front door. “Well, you said it; why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?” Jimin retorted. He was at the door already, slipping on his shoes. He didn’t care if he’d forgotten anything. “Jimin, please. Don’t do this.” He grabbed Jimin’s arm, harder this time. “Just let go of me!” Jimin tore his arm away, swinging his bag onto his shoulder, and opened the door. He pushed his way past him and slammed the door shut behind him. He ran through the rain toward the station.  He wasn’t going to bother waiting for a bus. If he waited, he was sure Yoongi would come find him. His chest hurt. It wasn’t a physical pain, but it might as well have been. He pressed Ignore each time his phone started to go off. By the time he reached the entrance of Taehyung’s dorm, he was shaking from the effort it took to hold himself together in public. So the second Taehyung came into sight, jumping down the stairs to unlock the door, Jimin could feel himself breaking. “/Whoa, whoa, it’s okay,/” Taehyung exclaimed, quickly throwing his arms around him and pulling him inside, out of the rain. Once they were upstairs in Taehyung’s dorm room, Jimin accepted the towel to dry off before he sat down on his friend’s bed. “/Do you want to talk about it?/” Taehyung asked him, sitting beside him and rubbing his back as Jimin tried to hold back his tears. “I, I can’t,” Jimin replied, hands over his face. “Why not?” “I just, I can’t. It’s…it’s—” “Is Yoongi hurting you?” Taehyung asked lowly. “No!” Jimin looked at him, startled. “No, he’d never—” “/Then what is it? Jimin, you know you can tell me anything, right?/” Jimin just shook his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. His phone started ringing at that point, and he quickly turned it off, tossing it down on the futon sofa across from Taehyung’s bed. Taehyung sighed. “/Well, do you want to get changed out of your wet clothes at least? I don’t want you getting sick./” He showed Jimin where the shared bathroom was down the hall, and then went back his room while Jimin changed. Jimin went into the handicapped stall, setting his bag down on a clean section of the floor. He’d already changed into sweatpants and was searching through the mess to find a shirt when he came across something that wasn’t his. He pulled out the bright yellow shirt, staring at it. He felt his eyes prickle, and he shakily brought the shirt to his face. Yoongi. The scent overwhelmed him all at once, and he burst into sobs, sinking to his knees. He clutched the shirt to his chest, unable to stop crying. He heard the bathroom door open and footsteps enter, but then abruptly turn around and leave when whoever it was decided he didn’t want any part in dealing with a crying person. Jimin choked on his sobs, and shoved the shirt deep into his bag, hoping that getting it out of his sight would relieve some of his pain, but it only made it worse. He started hiccupping and gasping for air, clutching tightly at his bag. He jumped when the door to the bathroom suddenly slammed open, and hurried footsteps came into the bathroom. “Jimin?” Taehyung called out. A second later he knocked on Jimin’s stall. “/ Jimin, unlock the door, please./” Jimin blindly fumbled for the lock before finding it and sliding it open. A pair of long arms wrapped themselves around him, making him feel very small, curled up as he was, kneeling on the floor. “/You’re still all wet,/” Taehyung noticed. He pulled out a shirt at random—not the yellow one—and gently tugged at Jimin’s soaked shirt until he moved to help him remove it. Taehyung quickly slipped the new, dry shirt over Jimin’s head and guided his arms through the long sleeves. “/All right. Let’s go back to my room and chill, okay?/” Jimin nodded, sniffling around a hiccup. When they reentered Taehyung’s room, there were two extra people inside. Jimin suddenly felt self-conscious, and hurriedly wiped at his face, holding his hands up to hide his flushed face and puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “So it was Taehyung’s friend in the bathroom,” one of the guys said, leaning back on the sofa, sipping from a red Solo cup of something most likely alcoholic, if the bottles set up in a line on the floor were any indication. Jimin felt humiliated, and couldn’t meet the other two boys’ eyes. “Jimin,” Taehyung started, letting Jimin sit back down on his bed, “this guy here is Mark, my next-door dorm mate, whose game plan is to stay in university forever—” “Oh, shut, up, that’s only because I was in Paraguay and Brazil for a while.” “—and over there is my roommate, Jungkook. He’s a cute little freshman, so you can boss him around all you want.” “Hi,” Jungkook said quietly, not even bothered by Taehyung’s comment. “Are you okay? I heard you in the bathroom just now.” Jimin shrugged non-committedly, but nodded to both boys. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jimin. I uh, I work with Taehyung.” It was easier to hold himself in check with two strangers present. Mark, who was very handsome in a laid back way, was also Asian, but Jimin didn’t think he was Korean. He also had a very American accent. Jimin wasn’t about to ask, though. Jungkook, on the other hand, was obviously Korean. But unlike Taehyung, he had very little accent when speaking in English, although there was still a little bit of a Korean inflection to a few of his words. “Oh, hey!” Taehyung said suddenly, startling Jimin from his thoughts, “didn’t you tell me once that you were born in Busan?” Jimin frowned slightly at the randomness of the question. “Maybe? Why?” “Jungkook is from Busan, too! He’s studying here for all four years, though. Not just for study abroad like me.” “You’re from Busan?” Jungkook leaned forward. “Which part?” Jimin shifted nervously. “I don’t know. I don’t remember it at all. I was, um, adopted when I was little.” Jungkook sat back. “Oh.” “You were adopted as a baby?” This time it was Mark asking. Jimin didn’t like all of the questions he was getting, even though he knew they were harmless. “No, I—it’s, it’s kind of complicated,” he amended. Luckily they got the hint, and the conversation moved onto other topics. Not much later, Mark reached for the sleeve of cups. “All right, I’m not going to be the only one drinking, here,” he announced. “Taehyung, I know I can’t get you to drink. What about you, Jimin? You want some?” “He’s not old enou—” “Shut up, Tae, he can answer for himself.” Jimin looked at the cup in Mark’s hand. He knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, but it’s not like Yoongi was here to stop him as usual. “Sure. I’ll have some, thanks.” “Jimin! You really shouldn’t,” Taehyung protested. “I’ll have some, too,” Jungkook spoke up. “Not much, though.” “Ugh, you, too, Jungkook?” “What? It’s not his first time drinking,” Mark pointed out. “Just because this country doesn’t think he’s old enough to drink doesn’t mean he can’t. He’d be legal in Brazil.” Mark was light on the alcohol when he mixed their drinks, and Jimin welcomed the faint warmth that spread through his body after the first several swallows. He could feel his worries and pain floating to the back of his mind, and soon he was laughing and joking with the others as if he’d not just had a terrible night. Of course, the happy warmth didn’t last long. It soon turned into a sharp burn down his throat as the alcohol increased with the decrease of Mark’s judgement skills whenever he refilled cups. Jimin’s attitude shifted from childishly giddy to sad and quiet, and he pulled his bag across the floor to rummage through it until he found the yellow shirt. He curled up into a ball at the foot of Taehyung’s bed, holding the shirt as if it was a precious stuffed animal or blanket. “Okay guys, I think it’s time to call it a night,” Taehyung said loudly, standing up and grabbing Mark’s arm. “Out, out, out.” Jimin vaguely heard the door open and close, and then Taehyung came back into the room. “/Jungkookie, time for bed. Ugh. Why are you so heavy?/” Jimin cracked his eyes open to watch Taehyung struggle to move the half-asleep form of his roommate from the sofa, half-dragging, half-pushing him over to his bed on the other side of the room. With a loud groan, Taehyung managed to shove Jungkook into bed and throw the blankets over his fully-clothed body. “/I didn’t sign up for this babysitting job. Seriously./” A second later a shadow fell over Jimin’s face. “/You too. You’re not sleeping in my bed./” It didn’t take long for Jimin to fall asleep, despite the cheap futon sofa not being the most comfortable of sleeping locations. Even with Jimin’s small height, his feet hung off the end, and the metal bar supporting the center of the sofa bed dug into his back. He lingered somewhere between asleep and awake, quickly falling into confusing dreams. It was dark, with flashes of light here and there, dancing bodies all around him. He was alone. There were hands on him, pressing, invasive, suffocating. Pulling at his clothes. A familiar and unwelcome voice whispered in his ear, “I knew you’d come back. You have no place to go.” “Whore.” “Slut.” “You’re damaged goods.” Hands pushed and shoved him. His clothes were torn. He tried to hold the pieces together. He was shoved into the throngs of people. A new hand grabbed him. He fell against Yoongi’s chest. The rapper wasn’t smiling. “Why are you always so much trouble? Why don’t you ever listen to me?” He was wrenched away from Jimin by another hand. Jimin watched as Yoongi fell into the crowd. He watched as Chris crouched over him and squeezed Yoongi’s throat. “I don’t know why I bother,” Yoongi said, face turning purple, but still able to speak despite being strangled, eyes on Jimin. “You’re not worth it.” Chris lifted Yoongi’s long switchblade high above his head and then plunged it into Yoongi’s chest. “You were never worth it.” Jimin woke himself up with a cry, loud, anguished sobs wrenched from his exhausted body. He could barely breathe. He leaned over the side of the sofa and threw up. He barely registered the frenzy of activity around him as the lights flickered on and blinded him, as furniture was pushed around, as he was pushed up into a sitting position, and warm hands held his face up as a scratchy paper towel wiped at his mouth and chin. “/Where’s his phone?/” “/I don’t know. Is it on the floor somewhere?/” “/Here it is./” “/Shit, he’s got a ton of missed calls and texts./” “/From his boyfriend?/” “/Yeah. I’m not touching them, don’t worry. I just need to get his number./” The door clicked open and shut, and then it was silent. Jimin whimpered and shivered abruptly, although not because he was cold. “It’s okay, you’re all right,” Jungkook said, patting Jimin’s back and switching to English. He seemed to realize Jimin felt more comfortable with it. “It’s just a dream.” Jimin could barely hold himself up, so he just leaned limply against Jungkook’s side as he shook with muffled sobs. He felt his stomach lurch again, and he fell forward with a grunt, throwing up into the waste basket that was quickly shoved into his hands. Taehyung came back into the room after several minutes, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Jimin?” Taehyung came over and knelt before Jimin. He picked up the discarded paper towel roll and tore a sheet off, gently wiping at Jimin’s face again. “Yoongi-hyung’s coming in the morning to pick you up, okay?” Jimin shook his head. “No. He doesn’t want me anymore.” “That’s not true, and you know it.” “He can’t love a whore like me.” “Whoa, what? Jimin—/Jungkook, can you, uh, can you go take a walk or something?/” Jimin felt the sofa shift as Jungkook stood up. “/Yeah, sure./” “/Sorry, I just don’t think—/” “/No, it’s fine. Text me when it’s okay to come back./” “/Thanks./” Taehyung waited until the door clicked shut, and then he took both of Jimin’s shoulders in his hands. “Okay, Jimin, what are you talking about?” Chapter End Notes I'm so sorry! This was a really difficult chapter for me to write. I hate fights in all manner of speaking, and just the idea of Yoonmin fighting makes me squirm in displeasure. I just want to grab them up and cuddle them together. Oh! And Jungkook made his appearance, finally! (Yes, those WERE his infamous speaker that made an appearance in the last chapter. ;) ) Side note: I know Mark Tuan (GOT7, if you didn't know) in real life doesn’t like alcohol, but too many of V’s friends don’t drink alcohol. I started noticing this trend when I was looking it up. But in the end I decided to use him as the friend because he's already from L.A. (not saying that's where this takes place, though), and his background fit into the scene well. Also, please don't see him as a bad guy here. He's just a typical college kid. He didn't force alcohol on anyone; he simply offered. Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to comment! And thank you so much for all of the kudos lately! I'm amazed every time I see that number go up. <3 ***** Chapter XV ***** Chapter Notes I'm so sorry for the long wait! The story is very close to the end (just a couple more chapters), and I want to make sure it all ties up nicely, so....yeah. Here's a very long chapter for your reading pleasure. Two songs I listened to (often on repeat) while writing: The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds & Transformation https://youtu.be/MqoANESQ4cQ Yonezu Kenshi (Feat. Suda Masaki) - 'Gray and Blue' https://youtu.be/ gJX2iy6nhHc See the end of the chapter for more notes XV. Jimin looked Taehyung in the eyes silently for a while before he lowered his gaze to his lap. "I don't know where to start, so I'll just..." He trailed off. "Can you promise me that you won't be disgusted? Or, or hate me? I don't want you to hate me. You’re my only friend, and I don’t want to lose you, too." Taehyung’s grip tightened on his shoulders. "You’re not going to lose me, Jimin. I promise." Jimin tried to remember how easy it had been to tell Yoongi all of this. At the time, he still was of the mentality that it was just the lot he’d been given in life, and there was no point in making a big deal out of it. He took a breath, trying to put himself back into that mindset. He had been strong, then. He could be strong again. He’d gotten too soft with Yoongi. He needed to build his armor up again; the armor that kept him sane over the past couple of years. He took a deep breath. “I need to do this in English, is that okay?” “Yeah, that’s okay.” "Over the last two years, I've been forced to have sex on camera, for a porn website." He really didn’t want to see Taehyung’s expression, but he made himself glance up momentarily. Taehyung was listening, that much was for sure, but his face was clear of any noticeable reaction. Jimin lowered his eyes again, fidgeting. “You know how I said I was adopted? Well, I was happy for a while, but then my parents split up when I was a teenager. I was left with my d-dad.” He was startled by the sudden onslaught of emotion when he spoke the word. “He—” Jimin swallowed in a tight throat, “he took me out of school when I was seventeen, and then he forced me to become a camboy.” Taehyung made a movement finally. “Sorry, what’s a camboy?” He looked uncomfortable, but it seemed like it was more because of the language barrier. “It’s someone who, um, basically they get off in front of the camera, for an audience. Like…you know…masturbating?” “Ah,” recognition crossed Taehyung’s features momentarily, only to be replaced by a darker look, and clenched white knuckles where his hands rested in his lap. “Yeah, so, I did that for a year. It…it wasn’t that bad, honestly. Just awkward. And I lost all of my friends when my—when Chris basically held me hostage.” “Chris?” “Yeah, that’s, that’s my adopted father’s name.” “Oh.” “Anyway, he kept me locked up whenever he wasn’t around, and took away all communication between me and my friends. But when I turned eighteen, he started forcing me to make porn with other men.” This was where Jimin couldn’t bring himself to look at Taehyung. “I didn’t think of it this way after a while, but I was pretty much raped on a regular basis. The first several times definitely felt like that, but then I became desensitized to the whole situation.” He startled when one of Taehyung’s hands took his own, pulling it away from where he’d been twisting his fingers together nervously. “How did you get out? You got out, right?” “Yeah.” Jimin nodded. “Yoongi saved me.” “What?” “We met by chance, one morning at the coffee shop where he works, when I was in really bad condition. He was concerned, and secretly gave me a way to contact him. Eventually he came to rescue me, and…that’s where I am now.” He left out the part about getting recaptured. Taehyung didn’t need to know to understand his situation. It was quiet for a moment, and then Taehyung spoke up. “Jimin, did something happen that night at the Korean event?” Jimin couldn’t help the flinch that tore through him. Of course Taehyung had noticed. How could he have not? Jimin was acting strange for the entire second half of the evening. “Y-yeah. I was, uhm…I was molested in the bathroom.” “Why didn’t you say—” “I didn’t want you to know. It was nice having a friend who thought I was normal. I didn’t want you to treat me differently. Sometimes…sometimes it feels like Yoongi is always walking on eggshells around me.” “Eggshells—what?” Jimin smiled slightly. “It’s an expression. It just means he acts like he has to be really careful around me. Although…I guess lately his brain-to-mouth filter hasn’t been the best.” Taehyung frowned even more. “Jimin…do you, don’t get mad, but…do you just think you’re in love with Yoongi because he saved you from that bad situation?” Jimin went quiet. He tried to think about Yoongi, separating him from the rescue. If he had met Yoongi under any other circumstance, would he feel differently? “No,” he whispered. “No, I love him. I love Yoongi.” His voice choked up, and he cried. Once the tears started, he couldn’t stop them. He shook as he sobbed, and Taehyung scooted over so he could fold him into his arms, letting Jimin cry into his shoulder. “I love him so much, Taehyung. And it hurts.”   Jimin eventually fell asleep again from exhaustion, blankets piled up all around him to keep him warm in their drafty dorm room. When he woke up, someone was sitting on the edge of the sofa, their back pressed up against his stomach where he was curled up. The person’s hand was resting on Jimin’s back between his shoulder blades, sliding back and forth slowly. Up…two, three, down…two, three, and back to be repeated again. Like they didn’t want to wake him, but wanted to give him a sense of calmness. It was blissfully quiet in the dorm room, and it took Jimin a moment to wonder at Taehyung’s ability to stay completely silent for so long. The hand on his back paused, and then stopped moving, other than the thumb stroking back and forth against his spine. Jimin took this moment to flick his eyes open, looking up at the person sitting beside him. It wasn’t Taehyung. It was Yoongi. Jimin frowned. Was he still asleep? Yoongi wasn’t looking at him; he was looking at his phone, scrolling through whatever it was he was reading. No. It couldn’t be a dream. It was too real. Jimin didn’t move, looking over at Taehyung’s empty bed. Jimin could now tell that no one else was in the room. Unless Jungook and Taehyung were standing completely still and holding their breaths—which would be creepy as fuck, Jimin thought—they definitely weren’t in the dorm room. As this fact registered, and he became fully aware that this was, in fact, not a dream, Jimin gasped and tried to scramble back away from him in panic, but all he ended up doing was kneeing Yoongi in the hip and getting tangled in the blankets. “Ow, fuck. Jimin, calm down. It’s just me.” Yoongi grimaced, but shifted so he was a little farther away, sitting only halfway on the sofa. “What are you doing here? Where’s Taehyung and his roommate?” “They’re down at breakfast. Taehyung thought it would be best if you and I were able to talk in private. I agreed.” “Oh.” As Jimin’s brain woke up more, the events of the previous night trickled back to him. He looked at Yoongi, biting his lip slightly. “Are you…still mad at me?” Jimin asked, and got a very confused look in return. “What? I thought you were the one mad at me? I’m not mad at you, Jimin.” “Oh, right.” Jimin shook his head, feeling confused. “Sorry, I’m still…I’m trying to wake up,” he groaned. His throat felt raw, and his tongue felt like it was covered in dry fuzz. His head hurt. He made a face. “Is there water somewhere? I’m so thirsty.” Yoongi got up and checked the mini fridge. There were several bottles of water inside, so he took one out and handed it to Jimin, who twisted it open and promptly guzzled the entire thing. The cold water sloshed a little uncomfortably in his stomach, but he knew it would make him feel better soon. “Whoa, why are you so dehydrated? Did you not drink anything last night at all?” “I drank plenty,” Jimin shrugged. “Just not water.” “What?” Yoongi took the empty bottle back, and set it on top of the fridge. “Don’t tell me you—” “I’m not a baby,” Jimin sighed. “I can drink if I want to. And we’ll be in Korea soon anyway, where I’m of age—” “You still want to come with me?” Jimin looked up at the unexpected amount of emotion poured into that sentence. It was as if Yoongi couldn’t believe it, like he was afraid that Jimin would tell him no, that Jimin hated him and didn’t want to see him ever again. “I…yes?” Jimin’s voice came out small, nearly breathless. There was an uncomfortable pause, and then Jimin couldn’t help it when he reached out to pull on Yoongi’s arm. "I know I shouldn't ask for this, but...will you hold me?"  "Of course." Yoongi sat back down beside him and pulled him flush against him, cushioning his head on his shoulder. Jimin let out a shuddering sigh and pressed close. It felt so good. "I missed you," Yoongi murmured. He bent his head down to drop a soft kiss on Jimin's forehead. "I did too."  "But we still need to talk." "Can we talk like this?" Jimin felt a little embarrassed by how needy he probably sounded, especially since coddling was exactly what he was trying to prove he didn’t need, but luckily Yoongi didn't seem to mind. "Sure." There was silence for a moment before Yoongi spoke again. "I think I need to apologize, but I want to make sure I'm apologizing for the right thing." "Okay. What do you want to apologize for?"  "I don't mean to smother you. I realize that it seems that way. I really don't. I just...I worry about you too much. I don't know if you know this, but every time you get hurt, it terrifies me." He frowned. "What are you scared of?" "Losing you. Not...just physically, but mentally." "What? What do you mean?" Was Yoongi implying that he thought Jimin would go crazy? "I've read about people who have gone through similar situations to yours, and some—not all, of course—end up living their lives as if they're just going through the motions. On the outside, it's like they're completely fine, but on the inside.... They stop caring about things, because they cope better when they desensitize themselves. You used to be like that, I could tell. And I'm so scared that you're going to go back to it. That you're going to stay with me just because it's easiest, and not because you want to."  He stopped and took a breath. Jimin took advantage of the silence to speak up.  "You're...not wrong, but you're not quite right, either. It has been a little stifling with you lately. I understand where you're coming from, I do; but I wish you would trust me more. Trust in my own strength, and in my ability to make the right decisions on my own. I need to grow up; we both know that. But I won't ever grow up if you don't give me a chance." "I know. I’m sorry."  "And I want to be with you. I really do. Yoongi, I," he paused, swallowing. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes. Because I can't tell if you are just taking care of me because you pity me—" "That's definitely not it," Yoongi broke in. “That’s definitely—I don’t pity you. I know I’m not very good at showing what I’m thinking—” Jimin huffed a laugh against his shirt. “You’re really not.” “But just because I’m not vocal about it doesn’t mean I care any less about you. And—god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—last night I couldn't sleep, I was so scared. I know it’s fucking idiotic of me to feel this way, but I just can’t help but worry that…that Taehyung’s going to steal you away from me. You already like him so much, and I just couldn’t help but fear that you would stop loving me and, and turn to him instead. In a way, you did just that.” Jimin remembered how Yoongi had blown up the previous night when Taehyung had come up in their argument, but he hadn’t realized how much Yoongi truly believed that Jimin would feel that way. “No, Yoongi, I couldn’t…Taehyung’s my friend. I care about him like a brother, but no more than that. And besides,” he added with a slight smile, “he’s straight, anyway. You don’t have anything to worry about.” “That doesn’t stop you from falling in love with him,” Yoongi pointed out. “Just because he’s straight doesn’t mean—” “Ugh, just stop, Yoongi,” Jimin half laughed, have groaned, shoving lightly at him. “I don’t even want to think of him in that way. I only want you.” “Good. Because I only want you.” Jimin felt fingers on his chin, and he looked up to see Yoongi gazing down warmly at him. “I hate fighting with you. Can we please stop fighting now? Let’s just promise to listen to each other from now on.” Jimin nodded. Then he straightened up until they were eye to eye. They both moved forward at the same moment, and Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut as their lips met. He lifted his arms to wrap them around the back of Yoongi’s neck, burying his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and pushing him closer. The musician’s hands were on his waist, holding him steady. Jimin tilted his head slightly to get a better angle, breathing shallowly through his nose so he wouldn’t have to break the kiss. He still felt a little light-headed, though, and gave a huge start, accidently biting Yoongi’s lip when Taehyung’s loud voice broke through the silence. “/I guess you two made up?/” “Fuck!” Yoongi swore, putting a hand to his lip, where he was bleeding slightly. “/Taehyung-ah! Couldn’t you have knocked?/” Jimin turned to gape at Taehyung and Jungkook. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Taehyung looked halfway between amused and annoyed. Jungkook just looked uncomfortable, avoiding making eye contact as he sat down at his computer. “/We did. Even though it’s our room and we shouldn’t have to. Anyway, we smuggled out muffins and coffee from the dining commons for you two. Be grateful./” Yoongi took the proffered coffee with a gruff “Thanks,” and Jimin took the two blueberry muffins with a shy smile. He handed one to Yoongi once he’d taken a long sip from his cup and settled back onto the sofa. “/So, did you?/” Taehyung pressed. “/Or are you still fighting?/” Jimin could feel Yoongi’s eyes on him, so he turned slightly to face him. “Are we good now?” the older man asked. “What do you say?” Jimin tried to fight the wide smile from spreading across his face. He felt embarrassed talking about this in front of the other two. “You know,” he said quietly instead, hoping Yoongi could make the connection to what he was trying to indicate. Luckily Yoongi was a smart man. A pleased grin made its way onto his lips, and he ruffled Jimin’s hair. “I know,” he agreed. “/Ugh, this is sickening,/” Taehyung teased, but then sobered up. “/But I’m glad you guys are okay now. No more fighting from now on. Understand?/” “/Yes, Mom,/” both Jimin and Yoongi responded simultaneously, laughing.   It felt good to step back into Yoongi’s apartment, despite how empty it had been feeling lately as his belongings disappeared bit by bit. There really wasn’t that much left, other than the essentials for everyday living, plus his music equipment. “God I’m wiped out,” Yoongi grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter. “I think I’m just going to sleep the rest of the day away.” Jimin laughed. “That actually sounds wonderful. Can I join you?” “Be my guest.” Jimin took a quick shower and brushed his teeth just so he wouldn’t feel disgusting, and then climbed up into the loft to slip under the blankets beside Yoongi. Who was already fast asleep. Jimin took the opportunity to snuggle up close, lightly kissing Yoongi’s cheek and combing his fingers through his slightly course blond hair. Jimin leaned up until his mouth was right next to Yoongi’s ear. “Saranghae,” he whispered, keep his voice just barely audible. But Yoongi’s lips quirked into a slight smile. Maybe he wasn’t as deeply asleep as Jimin had thought. He felt a hand on his waist, drawing him closer. Jimin shifted so he was half-lying over Yoongi, propped up on his elbows. Yoongi’s eyes were still closed when Jimin leaned down to kiss him on the lips, but Yoongi opened his mouth to sleepily respond. The kiss slowly deepened, and Jimin felt himself starting to harden. He grinded his hips down slowly, and Yoongi’s eyes flickered open. “Is this okay?” Jimin asked, pausing and drawing back slightly. Yoongi reached up to card his fingers through Jimin’s bangs and hold his cheek. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m just…tired,” he half laughed, more air than sound coming out. “I told you, I didn’t sleep at all last night.” Jimin bit his lip. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I know you had a hard night, too. I talked to Taehyung for quite a while on the phone early this morning.” He pulled Jimin down for another kiss. Soon they had rid themselves of their clothes and were moving softly together. Yoongi lay back with his eyes partially open as Jimin twisted his hand around his dick, slippery with lube. He took a shuddering breath when Jimin dipped down to suck at his nipples and lick at his ribs. Jimin noticed that more and more pre-cum was starting to leak from Yoongi’s dick, so he pulled away, sitting back on his heels. Yoongi frowned slightly and refocused his eyes on him. Jimin knew Yoongi’s eyes were following his hands as they squirted some more lube onto his fingers. Jimin’s mouth dropped open in a near-silent cry as he pushed his fingers into himself. He twisted his hand and scissored his fingers inside as his breathing grew heavier. “Jimin.” He opened his eyes, not realizing that they had fallen shut, and looked down at Yoongi as he fingered himself. Yoongi was staring up at him with an expression so filled with love that Jimin practically couldn’t stand it. He felt warm all over, and suddenly he couldn’t fight the wide smile that spread across his face. He pulled his fingers out so he could support himself when he leaned down to capture Yoongi’s lips again.  “I know I said that you could stay with me just until you got back on your feet in Seoul, but…even after you do, will you stay with me?” Yoongi asked him when they paused for a moment. “Being apart from you just feels wrong.” “Of course.” Jimin licked into Yoongi’s mouth, sucking his tongue into his own. He was feeling a little faint from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t want to stop. He tugged Yoongi weakly, trying to shift their positions. Luckily Yoongi got the idea and in one smooth movement flipped them so that he was lying on top of Jimin instead. “Oh, I like this so much better,” Jimin mumbled against his lips. “Oh, really?” “Yeah.” He tugged Yoongi back down. “I feel so…good…under you like this.” He gasped loudly when Yoongi suddenly pushed his legs apart and grinded his hips against him, cock rubbing hard against Jimin’s entrance but sliding right past. “Wait. I want you to fuck my mouth.” Yoongi groaned. “You know what I said about you talking like that, Jimin.” “What, does it turn you on?” “Shut up, oh my god.” Yoongi pushed Jimin down lower on the mattress so that he could brace himself on the wall and hopefully not hurt Jimin if gravity hit him. Jimin pulled Yoongi’s hips down until his cock was hovering above his mouth. It was leaking pre-cum again, and Jimin’s heartrate picked up as arousal shot through him at the sight. He leaned up and flicked his tongue gently against the tip, lapping up the milky white liquid as if he was a kitten. Yoongi let out a low groan, and Jimin smiled. “Don’t come just yet, love,” he teased. I want it all inside me.” “Jimin,” Yoongi warned, eliciting a laugh from the younger man. “Just fucking get on with it, you—ohhugh.” He broke off with a breathy sound as Jimin took the end of his dick between his lips and hummed. He bucked his hips, nearly choking Jimin, and earned a light pinch between his thighs. “Nah yeh,” Jimin said around his cock, and Jimin knew the feeling of teeth brushing against his skin was the reason Yoongi started shuddering. He pulled off momentarily. “Not yet,” he repeated. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait too long.” A little later, just as Jimin felt Yoongi’s muscles tensing up, he pushed him away. Yoongi gave a full-body shudder and groaned in frustration. “Are you serious?” Jimin couldn’t help the soft giggle that bubbled past his lips. “Go ahead and fuck me, Yoongi.” “God I don’t know why I—” Yoongi cut himself off as he quickly moved down and pushed himself deep into Jimin’s ready hole. They both let out low moans, and Jimin arched his back, spreading his thighs more to get a better angle as Yoongi thrust into him. It felt so, so good, but— “Yoongi, will you be a little rougher?” “Rougher?” “Yeah. I’m not going to break. I really want to feel it all.” Yoongi pushed Jimin’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “If you’re sure?” “I’m sure.” He huffed a laugh. “Okay, uh…just let me know if I do something wrong. I don’t usually—” “Just let yourself go, Yoongi. I can tell you’re holding yourself back. I can tell you’re trying to be gentle with me. Don’t be. I don’t think you realize how strong I am.” “I’m not going to uh, hit you or anything like that,” Yoongi looked very uncomfortable, and a little sick at the idea. Jimin laughed, just to put him more at ease. “Good. That’s not what I was asking for anyway. I’m not that kinky.” Yoongi stared into his eyes for a moment, and then swooped down to steal a wet kiss. His mouth moved to Jimin’s neck almost immediately, but then he leaned a little back as he reached down to fold Jimin’s legs up. He began fucking in hard and fast, pulling Jimin up close to suck at his skin. Jimin was sure there would be dark marks in the morning, and for the first time in his life he was very much pleased with that knowledge. Yoongi’s hand was tight around his dick, jerking him off in tandem with his thrusts. Jimin could feel himself getting close, but he didn’t want to come yet. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought against his climax, his mouth dropping open as he cried out with each push of Yoongi’s hips. The musician suddenly changed angles so that he constantly hit his insides just right, and finally Jimin couldn’t prevent it anymore. He came with a long moan. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” he begged, gasping around each hot, slippery splash onto his stomach and chest. The pleasure was overwhelming, high mewling sounds escaping from his throat with every single thrust. Abruptly his voice went even higher, catching slightly, and he dry orgasmed. Yoongi came inside him immediately after, and collapsed on top of him after a moment of complete silence. They were both covered in sweat despite the chilly air, breathing heavily. Yoongi made a movement to pull out, but his arms gave out, so he just lay there and kissed Jimin deeply and somewhat sloppily for several minutes. Jimin circled his hips and moaned long and low, deep in his throat, causing Yoongi to involuntarily jerk his hips when he was hit by an aftershock. They both gasped at the overstimulation. “W’should…clean up,” Yoongi mumbled slowly into the space between Jimin’s neck and the pillow. But he made no movement to get up, and a minute later Jimin realized he’d fallen asleep. Jimin smothered a laugh and somehow managed to shift enough to separate their lower halves and catch hold of the tissues to the side of the mattress. It would be enough until whenever they woke back up, probably later in the afternoon.   The days following flew by. They bought their plane tickets the very day that Jimin’s visa finally arrived; they’d be flying out on the twenty-second of December so that they would hopefully avoid spending Christmas exhausted from jet lag. Jimin resumed studying Korean with more determination than ever, not only practicing with his coworkers, but also properly working on reading and writing, taking notes on the words and grammar he struggled the most with. One day not long after Thanksgiving had come and gone (an evening spent happily eating with Yoongi’s family until Jimin didn’t think he could fit another bite into his stomach), Jimin sat at the kitchen counter, hunched over his notebook and flicking through textbook pages on Yoongi’s tablet. He was skimming through his Korean notes when he realized it was getting close to dinner time. Yoongi wasn't back from the coffee shop yet, though. It was a good forty minutes past his usual time to get home. Jimin pulled out his phone. 'R u at the store?' He waited ten minutes, without a reply. Maybe Yoongi just hadn't heard it. He usually kept it on silent, or on vibrate while on shifts. Maybe he’d forgotten to turn the sound back on. Jimin picked up the phone again and hit Call. It rang, and rang, before going to voicemail. Jimin hung up. He tried again. Same thing. He left a message this time. "Hey, Yoongi, maybe you're driving right now, I dunno. Just wanted to check when you expect to get home. Should I eat without you?" Another hour passed. He tried again. "It's me again. Did you say you were doing something after work, and I just forgot? I'm starting to get a little worried. Please call me. Love you." Three hours after Yoongi should have been home, Jimin couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed his jacket, key and wallet, and held his phone to his ear as he walked out the door. 'The number you have reached is out of service. Please try again later.' He swore, and hung up.  "Yoongi, where are you?" he asked the brisk autumn air as he typed and sent similar sentiments: ‘where r u????? ur scaring me. PLEASE call me’ He headed toward the grocery store, planning on getting something to eat, hoping to cross paths with Yoongi on his way home. He was about to cross the street when his phone went off, startling him. He glanced down at the caller ID. It was Yoongi. Jimin quickly hit the green button to answer the call. “Yoongi? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Where have you been?” “Jimin-ah.” It wasn’t Yoongi. It was his dad. He sounded tired. “Mr. Min?” He heard a sigh on the other side of the line. “Jimin, Yoongi’s been in an accident.” Jimin’s blood ran cold. He stopped walking. “What?” “Don’t worry, he’s…okay. He’ll be fine,” he assured him, but he couldn’t help but assume Mr. Min was lying to him. “What happened? Where is he?” “He got hit on his scooter on the way home from work. We’re at the hospital now. They’re still checking him right now, but his shoulder is in bad shape.” Jimin realized he’d been too quiet when he spoke again a moment later. “Jimin- ah? Are you there?” “Y-yeah, I’m still here.” “Jimin, I think he’d like it if you were here. He’s not saying it directly, but I know my son.” Jimin nodded, even though he couldn’t see him. “I’m on my way to the metro right now, Mr. Min. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “Thank you, Jimin.” There were a few seconds of silence, and then, “I know what you mean to him. And I know he needs you right now.” Jimin almost stopped walking again, if it weren’t for his hurry. Yoongi hadn’t told his parents about them yet. Jimin knew it was because Yoongi didn’t expect them to be supportive, knowing they could be very traditional sometimes. But here Mr. Min was, admitting that not only did he know, but that he understood how necessary it was for Jimin to be with Yoongi at this moment. “I, I’m on my way,” was all Jimin could manage with his suddenly choked up throat. He hung up, not even bothering to put his phone away, choosing to clutch it tightly in his fist as he burst into a sprint toward the closest metro station. Chapter End Notes ((hides)) Haven't you noticed a lot of similarities between BTS members' lives and their lives in this story? Yeah? Well...yep. That happened. Don't pretend you're that surprised I would include it. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment! ***** Chapter XVI ***** Chapter Notes I fucking love the G.C.F in Tokyo video Jungkook made. I listened to it over and over (and watched it multiple times) while writing a bunch of this chapter. The lyrics kind of fit the chapter, too, lol. I've loved Troye Sivan for ages (long before I even knew who BTS was), so it's really cool seeing how Jungkook likes his music as well. (Can you imagine how awesome it'd be if they did a collab with Troye? Ugh. That'd be the best. And he's almost the same age as Jimin, too.) Anyway, not much to say this time around. Enjoy! See the end of the chapter for more notes XVI.   Yoongi was asleep, doped up on painkillers, when Jimin arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later. He was propped up and bandaged heavily on one side. His face was ashen. Had it always been so pale? Or was that just because of his recently dyed-to-brown hair? His face was strangely free of any bruises or cuts, although Jimin thought he could see a smudge of red below his ear on the same side as his bandaged shoulder. Yoongi's mother stood up to hug him when he came closer to the bed. Jimin pulled free and went to Yoongi’s side, the one opposite his injuries. “Yoongi,” he breathed, voice catching. He hesitatingly reached out to touch his bangs, but withdrew his hand just before he could touch him. Yoongi looked so lifeless. “What happened?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of the sleeping figure. “Someone ran a red light and sideswiped him,” Yoongi’s father answered. Jimin hadn’t noticed him come into the room, carrying a cup of steaming coffee. “The car didn’t even stop, so the police are still trying to locate the driver. According to witnesses, he was pushed into oncoming traffic and thrown from his scooter when he hit another vehicle. His scooter was crushed. The doctors say his helmet saved his life. He was unconscious when the ambulance arrived, but luckily he woke up just before they got to the hospital." "He's already been in and out of surgery," Mrs. Min added. "The anaesthesia made him a little confused when we were allowed to see him at first, and he kept asking where you were. He got so angry at us for telling him to not worry about that. He worked himself into a frenzy, and the nurses had to put him back to sleep. The medicine should have worn off by now, though; it was such a low dose, so I think he's just asleep now." Her voice steadily seemed farther and farther away as she spoke. Jimin’s knees buckled, and he knelt down by the side of the bed. He took Yoongi’s less injured hand, forcing himself to not squeeze it too hard. He couldn’t stop the horrible images from filling his head of Yoongi lying face- down in the road, unmoving. He felt his eyes watering, and his throat close up. A high-pitched ringing sound filled his ears. “—imin!” There were hands on his shoulders, holding him up, but all he could see was Yoongi’s prone figure. He had almost lost him, and Jimin hadn’t even known. He wouldn’t have known at all, if it weren’t for Yoongi’s father calling him. And he wouldn't have called him at all. He choked on air, struggling to pull it in, but his throat kept closing. “Jimin! I’m fine! Snap out of it!” Suddenly Yoongi’s voice cut through the strangling fog, and Jimin cried out as the hand he was holding squeezed back painfully tight. He forced his eyes open, vision blurry, as he gasped for air. Yoongi was awake, staring back at him. “Y-Yoongi,” Jimin whimpered, clutching onto his hand. “Eomma, Abeoji, can you leave us for a few minutes?” Yoongi didn’t take his eyes off of Jimin as he spoke to his parents. “Of course,” his mother said, standing up and ushering his father out of the room ahead of her. The moment the door clicked shut, Jimin lunged forward and kissed Yoongi, careful not to jostle him too much. “Oh my god, I was so fucking scared,” Jimin mumbled against his lips. The kiss was salty from his tears. “When your dad called me from your phone, I thought, I thought—” “Shh, I’m fine,” Yoongi interrupted him, touching his cheek and wiping a few of the tears with his hand. “You’re not fine, though,” Jimin protested. Yoongi sighed. “Okay, I’m not fine,” he conceded. “But I’m alive.” They were quiet for a moment, and Jimin glanced at the door. “Yoongi?” “Hm?” “Did you tell your parents?” He frowned. “Tell them what?” “About us.” Yoongi shook his head. “No, why?” “Your dad knows.” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How—” “He, when he called me, he said something about knowing how much I meant to you.” It was clear by Yoongi’s expression that he wasn’t expecting this. "That doesn't necessarily mean he...I mean he could just have been talking about—" "I don't think so, Yoongi. It was very clear what he meant." He laced their fingers together. "He didn't sound upset about it, you know. He told me that you needed me. That’s why he called me." “No, he called you because I asked him to let you know what happened. I knew you’d freak out if I disappeared. But they weren’t letting me have my phone.” “Yeah, your mom said you got really angry about that. Well, regardless, he knows. And clearly he doesn’t mind. You should talk to them,” Jimin urged. But Yoongi shook his head. “No. I can’t.” “Why not?” “I just…I can’t, Jimin. I don’t think you understand.” Jimin sighed, trying to not be annoyed with him for his stubbornness. Now was not the time. “No, I don’t understand, Yoongi. You’re just making it more difficult for yourself, having to hide like this.” Yoongi made a pained face, like he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself back. He looked away, and Jimin noticed that he was trembling slightly. Jimin quickly cupped Yoongi’s cheek, turning him back to him. “No, no, no,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it right now, okay?” He leaned close and whispered against his lips, “I love you, okay? And I'm here. You don’t need to worry about anything else.” Their kiss was wet and shaky, and Yoongi shook as Jimin held him. Yoongi’s eyes were shining, but the tears pooling in them didn’t fall. “Jimin,” he murmured. “Don’t leave me.” Jimin smiled against his cheek, just resting there softly. “I’m not. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back. “Can I let them back in, now?” Yoongi cleared his throat and nodded. “One more kiss though,” he said, tugging on Jimin’s shirt with his good hand. Jimin laughed and obliged, before pulling away and walking over to summon his parents back into the hospital room. Jimin stayed with Yoongi and his parents until just before nine, when the hospital staff told them they would have to leave since visiting hours were almost over. Yoongi’s parents drove Jimin back to the apartment. No one spoke during the car ride. But as soon as they pulled into the apartment building’s parking lot, Yoongi's father stopped him from getting out. "Jimin," Mr. Min began. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment before we leave, if that is okay." Jimin felt his stomach cramp up, and he clutched his key tightly between his fingers.  "Of course," he said, voice deliberately light. "First of all, we want to thank you." Jimin blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Excuse me? What...what for?" "For being there for our son." "Oh. Right. Of course." "I don't know how much, if anything, Yoongi's told you about what happened in the past—" "He has. He—I know about what happened," Jimin interrupted. He didn't want them to say it aloud right now. "Oh, good." Yoongi's parents glanced at each other. "I didn't think it was my place to tell you about it, but it's better you knew. You see, we've really noticed a change in him lately, and we're sure it’s thanks to you." "Yes," Mrs. Min chimed in, "just seeing how happy he was at Thanksgiving made my heart warm. It's been such a long time since we've seen that kind of genuine happiness in him."  "He pretends that he's fine, to not worry us," Mr. Min continued, "but often we can tell when something is wrong. He gets angry when we try to bring it up, though. He thinks we pity or don't trust him." "And that's not it at all. We just...We know those kinds of things can have relapses with no warning. And we love him too much to let that happen." Jimin felt strange; he'd never really noticed that about Yoongi. Sure, he kept his feelings to himself most of the time, but Jimin couldn't pinpoint any instances where he knew or suspected Yoongi had been pretending to be fine when he wasn't. Or was he so good at it that Jimin just hadn't known? "Anyway, we have a favor to ask of you. We know that he won't let us help him with anything right now, so we want to ask you to please take care of him for us. Please keep an eye on him. We have a feeling he'll let you in where he'd shut us out.” “And please don’t hesitate to contact us if you need to, sweetheart,” Mrs. Min said. “I know we live a little far, but I really don’t mind making the drive over if it means you both are all right.” Somehow the fact that she had included Jimin, saying “you both” rather than just “Yoongi” made Jimin want to cry. She must have seen the shininess in his eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders, because she reached back to run her fingers comfortingly through his hair. “It’s okay to cry, Jimin-ah. No one will judge you for caring.” He rubbed at his face and reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Min. Good night, Mrs. Min.” “Good night, Jimin. I’ll see you tomorrow when I bring Yoongi home,” Mrs. Min said. The apartment was especially quiet when Jimin entered. It wasn't that Jimin hadn't been alone in the apartment, because of course he'd spent plenty of time alone there over the past few months. But he'd never spent a night in the apartment without Yoongi, and he felt his absence strongly now, knowing that he wouldn’t be coming home to sleep.  It wasn’t all that late, compared to what time he and Yoongi normally went to bed, but Jimin felt all of his energy draining out of him. He also realized he’d never eaten dinner. He’d completely forgotten. It was too late to get something now, though. And he didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. He silently changed into his sleepwear and climbed up into bed. He lay there, eyes open, for a very long time. The apartment was so quiet. He could hear the refrigerator running downstairs, the click of ice shifting in the freezer. He could faintly hear the dog from the house across the street barking in the yard. He could even hear the low hum of the highway, punctuated by sirens and horns every once in a while. Eventually he slipped into sleep, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was night. He was wandering around the neighborhood, the streets empty. He was looking for something, for someone. Yoongi. He couldn’t find him anywhere. Jimin walked down a different street, but stopped. There was an upright piano sitting in the middle of the street. It looked just like the one his choir teacher used to have. It was covered in dust. As Jimin stepped closer, it suddenly burst into flames. The fire licked at the keys and climbed up the sides of the wooden piano. He heard horrified screams behind him. He spun around just in time to see the pavement splattered with blood. There was shouting, angry and pained. He realized it was his own. But it seemed far away. He turned again. He saw Yoongi. Sprawled and broken and bleeding. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. He was staring at nothing. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung all stood around him, not saying anything. Just staring at him. Jimin tried to push them away so he could get to Yoongi, but they wouldn’t move. They didn’t acknowledge him. It was like he was invisible. Suddenly they all fell back as Chris stepped forward. He grabbed Yoongi by the collar and began dragging his body away. Jimin yelled, jumping forward to pull Yoongi away. He tried to hit him, to fight him, but Jimin was thrown into the street. He went nearly deaf with the sound of screeching tires, and his vision went white from the blinding headlights. Jimin woke up sobbing. He cried loudly, the sound catching oddly in his throat. He realized he couldn’t breathe. He hit his chest again and again, hunching over, trying to force air into his lungs. Finally, some air managed to slip through, and he collapsed, gasping and curled up on his side. He blindly reached for Yoongi’s pillow, and found that Yoongi had left his sweatshirt lying beside the head of the bed. He dragged it to his chest, and then pulled it on over his t-shirt. He pulled the hood up over his head, and then brought the pillow close to bury his face into. He fell back into a restless sleep, only to have a second nightmare in the early hours of the morning. He stood in the completely empty apartment. The walls were white and suffocating. He sat on the plane. The seat beside him was empty. He was greeted by solemn faces at the airport. A camera crew crowded around him, took him by the elbows. Led him away. He was forced into a hotel room, told to undress. He didn’t move. He was dragged to the bed, his clothes taken off one by one. Yoongi stood in the corner, watching. He stood up to move toward Jimin, but he was held back. Jimin struggled as someone held his wrists and wrapped a blindfold around his head. When Jimin woke up in the morning, he felt like a zombie. But he dragged himself out of bed and made some coffee. Drinking it on an empty stomach didn’t feel good, but there wasn’t really anything to eat. He had a minor freak out when he couldn’t find his phone at first, but then he realized that it was probably still in his jacket, which he’d tossed onto the sofa when he’d gotten home. Sure enough, his phone was there, on nine percent battery, and filled with missed texts. Some from Taehyung, but most from Yoongi. He sighed and sat down cross-legged on the sofa after plugging in his phone and stretching the cord across Yoongi’s workstation chair. He went through the messages. ‘We’re stopping by the store on the way home. Do you need anything?’ Sent at 9: 21 AM. ‘Are you still asleep?’ Sent at 9:47 AM. ‘Jimin, answer your texts! You never sleep this late.’ Sent at 10:09 AM. ‘BTW I have to go to the police station later this afternoon. Will you come with me?’ Sent at 10:10 AM. Missed Call from Min Yoongi at 10:24 AM. There was no voicemail message, though. There weren’t any texts or calls after that. Yoongi must have given up. Jimin was about to text back to Yoongi, when he heard the lock click on the door. He looked up at the sound of rustling bags, and Yoongi and his mother came through the door. The only thing Yoongi was carrying was his keys. Mrs. Min had both hands full of groceries, and she set the bags down on the counter before she began taking things out. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning." Yoongi walked over to Jimin, limping slightly and frowning down at him.  "Sorry. I left my phone downstairs last night." Jimin's voice was rough, and he cleared his throat self-consciously. Yoongi peered at him suspiciously. "What happened to you? You look like death warmed over. I thought I was the one who got into an accident.” Jimin glanced at Mrs. Min, who was now filling up the refrigerator. She didn’t appear to be paying attention to them. But he lowered his voice anyway. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” He fiddled with the hem of the sweatshirt he still had on. He’d seen Yoongi’s eyes on it; he’d noticed. “My nightmares came back.” “Oh. Jimin.” Yoongi sounded really sorry. Jimin didn’t want him to feel sorry for him. “It’s fine,” he lied. “I’m just glad you’re home.” He shifted his knee so he was touching Yoongi’s leg. It wasn’t much contact, but it was enough for now. Yoongi pressed back against his knee, although he grimaced a little. “But I saw you’re limping? I thought your shoulder was the only—” “It’s just bruises and scratches, honestly. It’s just a little sore. No internal damage otherwise.” “Yoongi-yah,” Mrs. Min called from the kitchen, making them both turn, “where do you want me to put the bagels? Do you have a place for them, or do you just—” “Anywhere on the counter is fine, Eomma.” “Bagels? I’m fucking starving,” Jimin straightened up. “There’s cream cheese too,” Yoongi told him. “I ate already, but help yourself.” Jimin stood up on the sofa and stepped over the armrest to hop down and head over to the kitchen. He’d long since passed the point of politely walking around furniture in Yoongi’s apartment. He grabbed a bagel and popped it into the toaster, thanking Mrs. Min when she handed him the cream cheese which she’d already put into the fridge. “Jimin,” she said as he leaned against the counter to wait for his bagel to toast, “these are Yoongi’s medications that he needs to take.” She showed him a paper with instructions on how many and how often to take the pills. “He should only take the painkillers as long as he is in pain, and no more than prescribed, because they can be addicting, and harm his liver. But don’t let him tough it out, okay? There’s no need for that.” “Right.” “Eomma, you don’t need to explain all of that to him. I can deal with it myself. Geez.” “Yoongi, it’s better if he knows as well, so he can help you.” “I really don’t need—” Yoongi started stalking over to the kitchen, probably to grab the bag of medicine, but he stopped suddenly and stumbled, blinking dazedly. Jimin sucked in his breath and swung himself around the kitchen island counter to put a supporting arm around his waist. “Whoa, are you okay?” Yoongi tried to wave him off, but his head was still nodding slightly. “I’m fine. It’s just, it’s just these damn painkillers.” “They make him lightheaded and dizzy if he tries to move too quickly,” his mom explained. “Yoongi,” she added sternly, “sit your butt down and stop trying to be Mr. Tough Guy. Just let us take care of you.” “You can’t boss me around in my own home,” he grumbled, but let Jimin bring him back to the sofa. A few minutes later as Jimin munched on his bagel, he and Yoongi watched from the sofa while Mrs. Min moved around the apartment, taking in their progress on packing. She stopped at the foot of the stairs to the loft. “Are you going to be able to climb this, Yoongi?” she asked, turning and looking worried. “Eomma, I broke my shoulder, not my legs,” he rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised,” she rebuked him. “Why don’t we bring your mattress down here so it’s easier? Now that most of your things are gone, there is plenty of space." Yoongi sighed and shared a glance with Jimin. “Jimin, he’ll need to sleep propped up for a while. Are there enough pillows in this apartment? Do you want me to bring over some of ours?” “Oh my god, Eomma, I’ll be fine,” Yoongi irritably stole a bite from Jimin’s bagel, and he didn’t have the heart to scold him like he normally did whenever Yoongi stole his food. “We should still bring the mattress down, though,” Mrs. Min insisted. When she put her foot on the first step and took hold of the railing, Jimin shot a panicked look at Yoongi and threw himself over the back of the sofa to head her off. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Min! I can do it. It’s fine.” “No, no, it’s too big for you, ai; let me help.” Jimin knew Yoongi was probably dying of embarrassment over on the sofa, so Jimin quickly climbed the steps and scrambled over the messy mattress. He grabbed the half-used bottle of lube and box of condoms that were sitting in plain view next to the side of the mattress, hiding them in the little drawer- like box Yoongi used like a bedside table, where he had his small reading light. Jimin wasn’t a moment too soon, either: “You two are still sharing this dinky old mattress?” “Eomma!” Yoongi yelled from downstairs. Jimin turned and sat down hard as he lost his balance. “My goodness. It’s so messy up here!” “Eomma, please stop commenting on everything, oh my god.” But Jimin saw the secret little grin she sent his way, and he had to fight down his own. She was doing it on purpose. He found himself smiling as well, and he quickly handed her the pillows and blankets to carry down first. While she was piling those up on the sofa beside Yoongi (“If you weren’t injured right now, I’d pile these right on top of you, young man”), Jimin pushed and shoved the mattress until it was hanging over the edge of the loft. “How in the world did you get this up here on your own, Yoongi?” he called down, panting slightly. “I didn’t,” was the deadpanned reply. “Hoseok helped.” Mrs. Min climbed back up, but Jimin looked at her worriedly. “It’s really heavy and awkward, Mrs. Min,” he warned her. She scoffed at him. “You forget I work in a restaurant, Jimin. I’m not just a little old lady; I have to carry heavy things all the time.” “You should make Abeoji do that,” Yoongi commented from downstairs. “No, I should do it myself,” she corrected him exasperatedly. This was clearly an ongoing argument between them. “It’s my restaurant.” “Look, why don’t I go first, and you come after?” Jimin suggested, wanting to change the subject. “Or is that more difficult? I can probably support it, but I need it to be steadied so it doesn’t just fall over the edge.” “That sounds like a good idea,” she conceded. He moved aside to let her climb the rest of the way up, offering her a hand when she had to climb over the mattress where it was covering the railing. “Thank you.” She looked at him in surprise when he easily pulled her up. “Oh! You’re quite strong! You don’t look it under all those big layers, dear,” she teased, ruffling his hair affectionately. Jimin felt his face heat up in embarrassment, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. He kept realizing more and more how much he was starting to love Yoongi’s mother. He was happy she seemed to care just as deeply for him. Together they managed to get the mattress safely to the floor, and then they pushed it up against the wall so there would be something to set all of the pillows up against for Yoongi. Jimin realized they would probably have to brace the opposite side of mattress somehow to keep it from sliding away from the wall, but he’d deal with that later. “Are you sure you have enough pillows?” “Yes, we’re fine, Eomma, you can stop worrying. I’ve got plenty of blankets and towels and shit I can pile up, too. I promise I’ll make a giant fucking nest, if that makes you happy,” Yoongi’s mood was quickly deteriorating. Jimin and Mrs. Min shared a look, and she pursed her lips. “Okay, Yoongi, I can take a hint. I’ll get out of your hair.” She headed back into the kitchen to gather her keys and jacket, before going over to Yoongi to drop a kiss on his forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay?” her voice was softer. Yoongi didn’t answer, but Jimin knew from his posture that it was his grudging acceptance. Mrs. Min turned to Jimin and gave him a long hug. “Remember what I told you, okay?” He nodded. “What did you tell him?” Yoongi asked suspiciously. “Nothing you need to be concerned about,” she evaded. “Jimin, what did she tell you?” “It’s not important,” Jimin lied. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at Mrs. Min and lowered his voice. “I will,” he assured her. “Thank you.” “Do you have my number?” Jimin shook his head, but knew he’d never be able to get her number with Yoongi currently watching them with eyes like a hawk. “I’ll just steal his phone if I have to, don’t worry.” She nodded. “Okay, take care, both of you! I’ll be in touch, Yoongi, whether you like it or not.” Then she hugged Jimin one more time and leaned up on tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead as well. He tensed, and stared at her with wide eyes, but her expression was soft. “Take care of yourself, too, sweetheart. You look very tired.” Jimin nodded, voice stuck in his throat. With one last stern, but loving look tossed Yoongi’s way, Mrs. Min stepped outside and let Jimin shut the door. There was a moment of complete silence, before Jimin heard a strange sound behind him. He frowned and whirled around, eyes widening when he saw Yoongi’s good hand pressed hard against his mouth and nose, eyes squeezed shut. His shoulders were shaking and he was gasping hard. “Oh, Yoongi,” Jimin breathed, and immediately went to his side, carefully wrapping his arms around the other man. A muffled sob broke through Yoongi’s hand, and Jimin gently pulled the hand away. “Let it out,” he whispered, kissing Yoongi’s temple. “Just let it out, okay? I’m here.” Yoongi sniffled and buried his face in Jimin’s neck, hissing slightly when he aggravated his injury a little. Jimin rested his chin on the top of Yoongi’s head and rubbed his hands up and down his back. “We’ll get through this, okay? And I give you full permission to use me as your slave until you heal.” Yoongi huffed out a wet laugh against his collarbone. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he mumbled. Jimin smiled. “I know. But I don’t take it back.” Chapter End Notes I cried four times writing this. ;_; A lot more was supposed to happen in this chapter, but then it started getting too long. (But hey, that just means the story will last longer! ;P ) I hope you guys are loving Mrs. Min as much as I am. XD Writing her makes me miss my own mom a lot, lol. (I live on the other side of the world from my family.) But omg...even if Yoongi's mom didn't know that Jimin and Yoongi were together, she certainly would now. I mean...Jimin's been sleeping in the same bed with him for months now. And the way they act around each other isn't hiding anything. They only think they're being subtle. Silly boys. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to feed me with your lovely comments! <3 ***** Chapter XVII ***** Chapter Notes Sorry for the long wait! My birthday was last week, and then I've just been busy with life and with trying to keep up with all those interviews/performances our boys have been doing in LA! ;) Here's a nice, long chapter for your enjoyment. See the end of the chapter for more notes XVII.   Jimin had never been so relieved that he already had the day off work. Yoongi kept insisting he was fine, but Jimin could tell he was frustrated and in a lot of pain. Following Mrs. Min’s suggestion, Jimin gathered all of the pillows in the apartment—which wasn’t many, to be honest—and piled them up against the wall on the mattress. He ended up turning the mattress sideways against the wall and pushing one of the heavier boxes up against the other side so it wouldn’t slide across the floor in the middle of the night. He figured Yoongi could sleep sideways on the bed, since he'd be sitting up anyway. “I feel like I’m making a fort for a sleepover,” he joked, making a face at Yoongi, who cracked a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t bother so much about that,” he sighed. “It’ll be fine.”  Around two in the afternoon, they took an Uber to the police station. They had to wait in the lobby for a while before someone was available to speak with them, and then they were taken into an office. "I'm glad you weren't too badly hurt," the officer commented as he sat down. "Now, the area didn’t have any CCTV cameras on the street, so we had to gather footage from the dashcams of two other cars at the scene. Unfortunately, all we have is a very blurry photo of the vehicle, right here.” He handed them a tablet with a photo displayed on the screen. “It’s impossible to make out the license plate, so all we can tell is the make and model of the car. Did you see the driver at all, Mr. Min?" Yoongi shook his head. "No, I didn't even see the car that hit me. All I know is that suddenly I was pushed straight into the opposing lane and into the front of a blue…pick-up? SUV? I barely remember that car. It all happened so quickly." Jimin frowned at the photo. Although he could see a silhouette through the driver side window, the glare from headlights washed out any possible chance of seeing a clearer image. Jimin wasn’t sure how the police knew the make and model of the car; the only thing he could tell from the photo was that it was some kind of SUV, and a dark color, either gray or black. He said as much, as he handed the photo back to them. “Witnesses at the scene said it was a gray Honda CR-V.” Jimin felt a chill run through him. That was the exact same color, make, and model of Chris’s car. “Can I see the photo again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level. The officer handed it back to him, and he peered closer at the car. He couldn’t tell. There weren’t any identifying bumper stickers on the car, but then again Chris didn’t have any, either. There weren’t any obvious marks on the outside of the car—and the only blemish that Jimin knew was on Chris’s car was on the passenger side; where Chris had accidentally pulled into the driveway too closely one year when there was snow piled up everywhere, and the mailbox had scraped a long line in the paint across the doors. But this photo didn’t show the passenger side. He sighed, handing the photo back. He couldn’t get rid of the bad feeling he had, but it had to just be a coincidence, right? There were hundreds of gray CR-Vs in the State. He had to just be imagining it. It was a ridiculous thought. He didn’t mention it to anyone. "Right now we're on the lookout for someone sporting damage on this side of their vehicle," the officer said, pointing to the specific area on the SUV. It doesn't seem like the collision did much damage to the suspect's car, but at the very least there is probably paint damage." "How is there not much damage?" Yoongi asked. "I was told my scooter was unrepairable." "Yes, but that was by the second vehicle, the one you hit. Your scooter was crushed underneath. It's a good thing you were flung off by the impact, honestly, because that could have been you as well." Jimin squeezed his hands inside his sleeves and did his best to not react to his words. "Have you spoken with a lawyer yet?" the officer continued. "A lawyer?" Yoongi repeated, sounding confused. "What for?" "For insurance claims, of course. You weren't at fault at all in this accident, that much is clear. You'll want to claim insurance for your scooter and hospital fees." "Oh." Yoongi sounded tired. "No, I haven't. Not yet." "Do you need to be assigned a public lawyer, or do you have a private lawyer already?" Yoongi made a face. "Uh...I, my parents have a private lawyer, I think? Can I just use her?" "Of course, that's your decision. You can use whoever you prefer. I'm just letting you know that if you don't have one already or can't afford one, there are public lawyers available." "Ah, okay. Thanks for letting me know." When they left the station, Jimin waited on a nearby bench while Yoongi spoke with his father on the phone. He didn't really listen; he couldn't stop thinking about the hit-and-run driver. It had to be a coincidence that the car was the same. Sure, it was possible that Chris had been in the area, but if it had truly been an accident—he'd accidentally run red lights before when he overestimated the length of the yellow light—Jimin couldn't think of any reason why he wouldn't have stopped. Four years ago when he got into a fender bender with one of the seniors at Jimin's school, he'd waited for the police to show up to report it. And if it wasn't an accident...well, even that didn't make sense. Yes, Chris had already tried to strangle Yoongi, and probably wouldn't hesitate to cause more harm to him...but Yoongi had been wearing his helmet. And Chris didn't even know that Yoongi drove a scooter. Jimin doubted that Chris would have recognized him. It was such a far reach that Jimin knew he had to be imagining things. “Why are you so fidgety?” Jimin startled when Yoongi suddenly spoke to him, having finished his phone call without Jimin realizing. He was now standing in front of Jimin, frowning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m not fidgety,” Jimin protested. Yoongi scoffed. “Yes, you are. What’s wrong? There’s something you’re not telling me.” “I’m not—” “You’re a fucking horrible liar, Jimin, and we both know it. So spit it out.” Yoongi’s words hurt, but Jimin told himself that Yoongi didn’t mean it that way. He was just tired and frustrated and in pain. Jimin would have been just as rude, if not more, if he had been in Yoongi’s place. “It’s just…it’s probably nothing,” he avoided. “What is?” “The first car, the one they can’t find.” “Yeah, what about it?” “Well, it—I know this has to just be a coincidence, but—it looks like Chris’s car.” Yoongi’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. “You think Chris hit me?” It was clear he couldn’t believe the suggestion. “Jimin. I know that he’s a psycho, but I highly doubt it was him. Whoever it was probably was afraid of taking responsibility for the accident, and ran off. Maybe they think I died or something, I dunno. But from what I heard, they left so quickly that they might not even have seen the outcome of the accident. Otherwise we’d have better pictures, you know? Could you tell what the driver looked like from the photo?” “No, but…” Jimin trailed off. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Yoongi shrugged. “I think it was just a random accident, which happens all the time. It was literally right as the light changed that it happened, and the person was making a right turn, which was illegal at that particular intersection, but maybe they didn’t notice the sign. Maybe they thought they could make it. I really don’t know. But I don’t see the point of stressing out about things that probably are just coincidences.” Jimin nodded, getting up. “I guess so. What did your dad say?” “He said their lawyer can take care of everything for me. I was worried about us leaving in a few weeks, but I guess it doesn’t really affect it so much. I might just have to deal with it by emailing back and forth once we’re out of the country.”   While they were out and about, Jimin thought Yoongi was handling his injury very well. So well, in fact, that Jimin started to think that it wasn’t as bad as Yoongi’s parents were making it out to be. Yoongi was being so level-headed about the entire situation, that it put Jimin at ease. It was as the day winded down that Jimin began to see a change in Yoongi’s attitude, though. Yoongi’s mood steadily declined toward the end of the day. He didn’t get angry at Jimin, but he got quiet, quieter than usual, and the silences grew uncomfortable. In the evening, as he tried to direct Jimin on how to cook dinner—something that was usually Yoongi’s job—he became dismissive. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter if it turns out. Just toss it in the oven like that.” “Yoongi, don’t say that. You’re making it sound like I’m completely hopeless at cooking! I’m not that bad.” “Like I said, it doesn’t matter. It’s just food. We’ll eat it either way.” They didn’t really resolve the argument, but Jimin let it slide. He also silently tugged away Yoongi’s plate to cut up his meat when he noticed Yoongi having difficulty biting into the larger pieces without the ability to use both a fork and knife at the same time. “God fucking dammit, I’m not five,” he groused. “I never said you were,” Jimin replied evenly, sliding the plate back to him once he was finished. Before bed, Yoongi decided he wanted to properly bathe, since he’d not really had a chance since getting in the hospital. Jimin offered to help him, and Yoongi begrudgingly agreed. But despite them having showered before many times, this time he was not happy about it. “Just pretend you’re in a spa, or a hair salon,” Jimin sighed, as he held the showerhead at an angle where it wouldn’t get on his sling, which they’d covered in plastic since they didn’t have a special waterproof one yet. He gently massaged the shower gel over Yoongi’s skin, frowning at the deep purple bruises and scrapes. “Don’t think of it as not being able to wash yourself; think of it as getting pampered.” “I fucking hate being pampered,” Yoongi pointed out. “Maybe you like being pampered—” “Only if you’re the one doing the pampering,” Jimin insinuated, sucking on the skin between his jawbone and earlobe. “Why don’t you let me make this more enjoyable for you?” “Because at the moment I really don’t think I can get turned on by anything,” Yoongi grumbled. “My entire body is focused on my shoulder, and I’m just so tense that even the idea of…any of that…doesn’t even sound appealing to me.” Jimin frowned. He’d have to figure out how to change that. They quickly finished the half shower, half sponge bath after that, and Jimin held Yoongi close to kiss him softly as he dried off. But Yoongi kept grimacing. “I think I need to take my painkillers again,” he forced out. “Where are they?”  The painkillers didn't kick in immediately, but eventually Yoongi seemed to relax. He settled onto the mattress, looking displeased. “How in the world is this going to work?” Yoongi wondered aloud. “If I’m sleeping horizontally on the mattress, where will you be?” Jimin grinned, and lay down on his left side, curling up with his head on his lap, like a cat. “Like this.” He pretended to paw at Yoongi's stomach, and rolled his tongue to let out a purr. "See? This is perfect."  Yoongi rolled his eyes at him, but had a smile on his lips. He reached down to card his fingers through Jimin's hair. Jimin purred again. "Stop that. It's weird," Yoongi chuckled. They were able to sleep relatively comfortably like that, although Jimin ended up taking his head off of Yoongi's lap to lie on the mattress beside him. In the morning, Yoongi woke up much earlier than usual, when he couldn't stand the pain anymore.  Jimin listened from where he lay on the mattress as Yoongi called the coffee shop to quit his job. “There’s no point in staying if I'm leaving in a few weeks anyway. I can't even work the register, and I definitely can't work bar.” He paused, listening for a while. “Yes, I know, and I appreciate it, but I really can’t. I’m sorry to give you such short warning, but there’s really nothing I can do about it. It is what it is. …Yeah. Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. I’m supposed to take it easy right now, but I’ll try to come in to do that next week. …Right. Thanks. Talk to you later.” Jimin heard Yoongi sigh loudly and set his phone down. “This is so fucking annoying,” he muttered, rolling his chair across the floor, probably up to his workstation, but Jimin couldn’t tell from his position on the floor.   As the days progressed, Yoongi withdrew into himself more and more. They packed up and shipped off Yoongi’s piano to Korea, once it was clear that he couldn’t play it in his state, and there was no point in keeping it around. That day Yoongi barely spoke to Jimin, despite numerous attempts to draw him into meaningless conversation. Jimin listened to Namjoon trying to assure Yoongi that it would be fine, that the injury wouldn’t affect his new job, that they could work around it. It was only temporary, and things like that happen. But Yoongi couldn’t seem to accept any of their words. One morning when Jimin woke up, it was cold; colder than it had been so far, and no one had turned on the heater yet. He curled up underneath the blankets, trying to cover all parts of his body so nothing touched the chilly air. He was alone on the bed; he didn’t know where Yoongi was. He hadn’t noticed when the other man had risen. Maybe he was in the bathroom. The apartment was quiet, just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall. As Jimin slowly became more awake, he frowned. It was too quiet. He poked his head out from under the blankets, shuddering at the cold air, and listened. Nothing. Wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders and burying his chin in it, he stood up and walked toward the bathroom. The door was open; no one was inside. “Yoongi?” he called out experimentally, already knowing that the other man couldn’t possibly be in the apartment. It’s not like there was anywhere for him to hide. It was still relatively early, but the coffee maker hadn’t even been turned on, so wherever Yoongi had gone, it had been without his normal cup of coffee. Yoongi’s cell phone was sitting on the counter. Jimin picked it up, staring dully at it for a moment. Had he left it on purpose, or by accident? Jimin clenched his fist around the blanket, trying to keep from jumping to conclusions. But it was difficult, since the last time he couldn’t get a hold of Yoongi, he’d ended up being in the hospital. He discarded the blanket on the sofa, and grabbed his coat, wallet, key, and both of their cell phones. Not caring that he was still in his sleep pants, he shoved his sneakers on and left the apartment. In the same moment that he caught his breath because it was so cold outside, he also let it out as he felt his entire body lose its tension; Yoongi was sitting on the curb by the parking lot, steady clouds of air rising from his lips and mouth. Thankfully he had his coat on, but Jimin was sure that the chill was seeping up through the pavement into his body, and he wasn’t sure how long Yoongi had already been sitting there. “There you are,” Jimin said lightly, as he walked over. “I wasn’t sure where you’d disappeared off to.” “I’m just getting some fresh air,” Yoongi replied, not looking at him. "I’m sick of being cooped up in the apartment all the time.” “How long have you been out here? It’s freezing.” “I dunno. A while.” “You should come back inside and warm up.” Yoongi didn’t answer for a while, but then he sighed. “Just leave me alone, Jimin.” Jimin knelt down on the pavement in front of him, to get closer to his level. “I can’t leave you alone, Yoongi. You know that.” He gently cradled the sides of his face in his hands, trying to pour his love into his gaze. He wasn’t sure if it was being conveyed, but he hoped so. Yoongi lowered his eyes to break eye contact, although he didn’t pull away from Jimin’s touch. Jimin leaned in and softly kissed him, pushing his mouth open with his lips, carefully slipping his tongue inside. Yoongi’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back just as tenderly, although he didn’t lift his other arm to hold Jimin as usual. They kissed like that for several minutes, until Jimin’s knees started losing feeling, and he was sure that his lips had turned quite red. Yoongi sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, biting it slightly, furrowing his brows. “What did I do to deserve you?” he muttered, almost as if to himself. Jimin smiled. “I could ask you the same thing, of myself. The answer to your question is far more obvious than to mine. I still honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you. I fucking love you so much, you’re probably tired of hearing me say it.” A small smile finally appeared on Yoongi’s lips. “Nah. I’ll never get tired of hearing it.” “Good. Because I won’t stop.” He stole another kiss, more heated this time, and when he broke away for the second time, he mumbled against Yoongi’s mouth, “I really wish you’d fuck me, though. I miss it so much.” Yoongi huffed, and Jimin couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh, as Yoongi let his forehead drop onto Jimin’s shoulder with a thunk. “Jimin, I don’t even know if I can—” “You can,” Jimin cut him off. “I looked it up.” Yoongi snorted. “You what? What exactly did you look up?” Jimin licked his lips self-consciously. “I looked up whether it was possible for you to have sex while recovering from a broken shoulder.” “Wow, that’s not desperate at all,” Yoongi deadpanned. “Fuck you,” Jimin quipped, although it had no bite. “Anyway, it’s definitely possible; we just have to be careful. Basically you just have to let me take care of you. You’d just sit back and enjoy.” “Hmm.” Yoongi’s hand, which had been resting limply on Jimin’s thigh, moved up a little to his hip, thumb slipping under his shirt. When his nail lightly stroked the skin just above Jimin’s waistline, a soft tingle ran through him. “Is that a good ‘hmm,’ or a bad ‘hmm’?” he asked. “Because I seriously, seriously am going into withdrawal.” “Withdrawal?” Jimin couldn’t see his face, but he knew Yoongi was raising an eyebrow at him right now. “From your dick. And your fingers. And your tongue. And oh my god, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.” “You’re so vulgar. And cheesy.” “Come on. I promise it’ll be good. And it’ll take your mind off things.” “Maybe.” “Oh my god, Yoongi. Why do I put up with this again?” “Because when you occasionally do get some, you get it good?” Jimin snorted, and just barely kept himself from shoving Yoongi playfully like he normally would. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”   During one of the following evenings when Yoongi wasn’t ignoring him, but was actually being more touchy and cuddly than usual, Jimin decided to give it a try. Yoongi was sitting back against his pile of pillows and folded up towels (“like a throne,” Jimin had laughed at one point), and Jimin crawled over him, straddling his lap. They kissed for a while, barely touching anywhere else until Jimin began to pull Yoongi’s shirt off. “Just sit back and relax,” Jimin soothed, kissing the corner of his jaw and then moving down. “Just let me know if you start hurting.” “Why am I having reverse déjà vu right now?” Yoongi smirked. It took Jimin a moment to realize what he was talking about, but when he did, he felt his face warm up pleasantly at the memory of their first time together. He let his smile spread across his face, until he could barely see Yoongi through the thin cracks between his eyelids. “Because it’s my turn to take care of you, now,” Jimin answered, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He continued to kiss down Yoongi’s throat and chest, sucking hard at his nipples. Jimin always loved tugging at the small nubs, licking a circle around them, humming from his own pleasure. He smiled against the skin when he heard the shuddering breath Yoongi took in. Yoongi was never as vocal as Jimin, but he’d learned to recognize the signs that he was doing something right. Stuttered breathing, quiet groans, and muttered curses were usually the biggest indicators. Sparing a quick glance up at Yoongi’s face, finding him with his eyes closed and mouth open, Jimin shuffled further down on the mattress, and began to tug at Yoongi’s joggers. Yoongi was already halfway hard, and Jimin startled when suddenly Yoongi seized his shoulder tightly with his right hand. “Wait,” he ground out. “I’m trying to—I’m too tense. I can’t relax,” he finally managed. “Don’t worry,” Jimin assured him, trying not to wince. “I promise I’ll help you relax, okay?” “Okay.” “Can you…um, can you let go, a little, that actually hurts,” he laughed, and Yoongi’s eyes flew open as he immediately let go of Jimin’s shoulder. “Oh my god. Sorry.” “No worries. I guess you don’t know your own strength.” He gave Yoongi a comforting squeeze before pulling Yoongi’s pants off the rest of the way. He paused and yanked off his own shirt, knowing that Yoongi would feel weird about Jimin being fully dressed. But it was a little chilly, so he dragged the blankets up over his shoulders. Yoongi chuckled, watching him. “You look adorable like that,” he pointed out, reaching out to ruffle Jimin’s hair. “Adorable, huh?” Jimin repeated, before leaning down and licking a stripe across his lower abdomen, sucking lightly at the skin. Yoongi trembled, hand burying itself in Jimin’s hair. “Oh,” was all he said. Jimin stroked him through his boxers, before gently tugging them down as well. A moment later all of his own clothes followed suit. It had been such a long time since they had lain together naked like that, and for a moment Jimin just rested against him, sliding his hand along Yoongi’s skin. When he finally flicked his tongue over Yoongi’s cock, the hand in his hair tightened but didn’t pull. Jimin figured Yoongi wouldn’t appreciate being teased, though, so he quickly took in as much as he could, opening the back of his throat until his nose was pressed hard against his groin, enveloped by the true scent of Yoongi. “Fuck,” Yoongi breathed, fingers trembling against his scalp. Jimin sucked and bobbed his head, trying to breathe through his nose so he wouldn’t have to take his mouth off. He could feel himself getting harder and harder, and he moaned around Yoongi before sliding off wetly. He breathed heavily as he stared down at Yoongi. “Come’ere,” the rapper whispered, drawing him up to slot their mouths together. In between kisses, he asked, “Where’s the lube?” Jimin popped it open and squeezed some into his waiting hand. Yoongi sat up straighter to catch his lips again, licking deep into his mouth, so Jimin wasn’t really expecting it when he suddenly felt a slick finger teasing at his entrance. He gasped and startled, before spreading his thighs farther apart and scooting closer. Yoongi pushed his finger in all the way to the last knuckle, pulling a small whimper from Jimin’s throat. Within a few minutes, he had three fingers moving in and out of Jimin’s body. It took all the control Jimin could muster to not collapse on him; normally he was lying down for this. He wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s cock, twisting and pulling. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and he tugged at Yoongi’s wrist to make him take his fingers out. “Okay?” Jimin murmured, grasping the base of Yoongi’s cock and hovering over it. “Yeah,” was the soft reply. Jimin sank down onto him completely, bracing himself on the wall. He may have done it a little too fast, for his eyes rolled back momentarily at the overwhelming sensation. Yoongi groaned. “God,” Jimin forced out, nearly choking on the word. Oh, he had missed this. He made himself open his eyes to check on the man below him. Yoongi was grimacing, but it didn’t seem to be entirely his shoulder that was causing it. Jimin gently pressed their lips together, close-mouthed, and then just rested his cheek against Yoongi’s for a moment. Yoongi’s good hand came up to hold the back of Jimin’s neck, thumb rubbing circles on the skin. Then Jimin pushed himself up with a quick but hard kiss to his lips, and began to move himself up and down on his dick. It was more difficult not being able to hold onto Yoongi himself, but the wall was good enough. His thighs burned, and low huffs came from Yoongi’s mouth every time he sank low. Jimin could feel himself getting close. “Yoongi,” he gasped out. He was shaking, barely able to hold himself up. “Yoongi, I can’t, I’m gonna—” He rotated his hips, grinding hard, dragging the end of Yoongi’s dick against his prostate. Then, with a soft cry, he came, spilling out all over Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi still hadn’t come, and so despite his exhaustion and sensitivity, Jimin tried to continue bucking against him. But soon it was too much, and he had to bury his face in the right side of Yoongi’s neck as he whimpered and cried. “Jimin,” Yoongi breathed, grasping his hip with his hand, and attempting to push him off. “Come on, you don’t have to force yourself.” Trembling, Jimin pulled himself off, and collapsed next to him, panting heavily, soft mewls still falling from his lips when he moved his hips a certain way. He heard Yoongi sigh over him, and fingers carded through his hair. “You’re so beautiful like this.” Jimin dragged himself up onto Yoongi’s throne of pillows so he could snuggle up against him, wrapping the blankets around them both. They slowly kissed for a while, Jimin’s hand sneaking down to continue pleasuring Yoongi. Eventually he tensed up and hissed, before Jimin’s hand was coated in warmth, and Yoongi’s entire body seemed to melt back into the pillows. Jimin smiled at him, happy he could help him at least in this way. For just a moment, he knew that Yoongi’s injury was far from the front of his mind. He let himself lie there for a few short moments, before he knew he had to get them cleaned up, or they’d regret it in the morning. “I’ll be right back,” he said, slipping out from under the covers, and booking it to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth and a towel. Now that he wasn’t active, he could feel the chilly air on his bare skin as he quickly moved through the apartment. “Agh, it’s so fucking cold,” he complained as he dove back under the covers, hurriedly wiping at them both with the wet cloth and then drying them with the towel. He tossed them onto the floor by the bed to be dealt with in the morning. Thatcould wait.   It got closer and closer to the day they would leave. Jimin took over the job of packing, allowing Yoongi to direct him through what went where. Yoongi went to a few physical therapy sessions, but rather than encourage him, they only seemed to bring his mood down. He would come home sore and tired, in a shitty mood, and nothing Jimin did could make him feel better. No matter what he said, Yoongi continued to focus on the fact that “I can’t do anything myself.” Those kinds of days increased the closer they came to the day of departure, and they left Jimin feeling mentally exhausted as well. Meanwhile, Taehyung had finished up his finals, and was just about to leave for South Korea as well. On his last shift at the convenience store, he and Jimin pretty much just stood around and chatted the entire time, only half as productive as normal. “/How’s Yoongi-hyung doing?/” he asked Jimin, twirling a pack of chopsticks between his fingers. Jimin sighed. “/Not well, to be honest. I just don’t know what to do. Sometimes he’s fine, you know? But then there’s entire days when he’s just…not there./” “/Do you think maybe he doesn’t want you to be so, I don’t know, helpful?/” “/What do you mean?/” Jimin tried not to sound as offended as he felt, hearing those words. “/You remember how you got upset for him worrying too much about protecting you. Maybe this is the same. I may not know him as well as you, but I can tell he doesn’t like being coddled./” “/Yeah, I know, but I’m not.I’ve been letting him do what he wants, and only helping when he asks, or secretly helping when he doesn’t realize it./” Like making sure all of their food was in bite-sized pieces before serving it, so that Yoongi didn’t have to sit through Jimin cutting his food up for him. Or making sure the caps on bottles in the bathroom weren’t screwed on too tightly, so he could easily open them with one hand. Taehyung shrugged. “/I don’t know what to tell you, then. Sorry. At least soon enough you’ll be in Korea, though, and maybe that will help./” Jimin frowned. “/How is moving across the globe going to help his mental state? He’s not going to magically get better just because we live in Korea and not the U.S./” “/Well he won’t be cooped up in an apartment all day by himself, that’s one thing,/” Taehyung pointed out. “/Since his studio will be at the BigHit company building, he’ll be able to get out, and talk to more people than just you—no offense./” Jimin supposed that was true, and he said as much. Yoongi did leave the apartment for various things, relying on Uber, or Hoseok when the other rapper was available to give him a lift. But most of the time as far as Jimin knew, he was at home, supposedly working. They spent the rest of their shift planning for meeting up after they both arrived in Seoul. Taehyung excitedly told Jimin about all of the places he was going to take him, and Jimin felt himself starting to get more and more excited. By the end of the night, he was in an amazing mood, still mapping out all of the adventures they would get up to once he finally got to Seoul. They planned to have a small Christmas-slash-home-warming party to help Jimin and Yoongi unpack once they were in Korea. Jimin couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi about their plans, hoping he would be at least a little enthusiastic, if not as excited as they were. When Jimin opened the door to the apartment, he was surprised to find it dark. Yoongi wouldn’t be asleep this early, though. He flicked on the lights as he slipped off his shoes, and gasped. The apartment was trashed. Papers that Jimin knew to be music sheets were scattered everywhere. The plastic jar of pencils and pens that usually sat on Yoongi’s work station was lying on the floor, its contents spilled across the floor. The chair was halfway across the room, lying on its side. The pillows and blankets were in a complete disarray, some hanging precariously off of the sofa’s back. One of the kitchen stools was knocked over, and the sweatshirt Jimin had left hanging on it earlier was crumpled on the ground. Jimin’s stomach dropped. Chapter End Notes Oh no... Next chapter is the last one...and then I'm thinking of writing an epilogue. We'll see. Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to comment! I love reading your reactions! <3 ***** Chapter XVIII ***** Chapter Notes I’m so sorry to make you wait so long, everyone! I was in a car accident on the 23rd (I was the passenger), and although no one was hurt other than some sore necks which seem to be fine now (we were hit pretty hard from behind) it shook me up a little and I’ve been struggling to write this chapter since then. So again, sorry for drawing it out…I hope you think it was worth the wait. On Friday night I finally breached that wall that was blocking me from writing, and I’ve been overwhelmed by the feels in this very long, final chapter. I swear, this is going to be a roller coaster of emotions, so pull up a box of tissues, grab a blanket to wrap yourself in…and enjoy. Everything is coming to a close. See the end of the chapter for more notes XVIII.    “Yoongi?” Jimin called out, not even bothering to take off his coat as he moved into the apartment. There was no answer, but then he saw the light shining under the bathroom door. “Yoongi?” he tried again. “I’m coming in,” he warned. Yoongi was sitting in the far corner of the bathroom, head buried in his knees, left arm held awkwardly in the way in its sling. Yoongi’s bottles of pills were sitting in a neat line in front of him. Some were the ones the hospital had prescribed him, but there were also others that Jimin didn’t immediately recognize. Compared to the disaster of the rest of the apartment, the neatness of their arrangement sent a chill down Jimin’s spine. “Yoongi,” he said again, softer this time. He moved to kneel in front of him. “I can’t,” Yoongi mumbled. “What?” Jimin leaned closer to hear what he was trying to say. “I can’t trust myself,” he continued. “You need to take those away from me.” Jimin frowned and picked up one of the bottles. “I almost…I almost—” Yoongi couldn’t finish his sentence, pressing his right hand against his mouth as his face crumpled in despair. With a sudden sense of dread, Jimin realized what Yoongi had been planning to do. Everything Jimin could say, wanted to say, seemed like the wrong thing. He was afraid to say the wrong thing. Right now, it was more dangerous than ever. So, instead, he didn’t say anything. He gently pulled Yoongi’s hand away from his face and lifted his chin so that he was looking at Jimin. He pulled his sweater sleeve a little up over his hand to use it to wipe away the tear streaks from Yoongi’s flushed face. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss beside his eye, thumb stroking the space between his jaw and earlobe. “I almost…but then, then I thought of you,” Yoongi tried to say again, and Jimin’s heart clenched. “I saw your f-face, and,” Yoongi swallowed tightly, “and I couldn’t do it. And I hated myself for even considering it. I’m so sorry.” Jimin rested his forehead against Yoongi’s. “Please don’t leave me, Yoongi. I love you so, so much. I don’t know how to help you; I don’t know the right things to say. But I love you too much to let go of you, okay? You’re everything to me.” Yoongi sighed. His right hand found Jimin’s and squeezed tightly. “You saved me, you know?” Jimin continued. “If you hadn’t found me, if you hadn’t broken me out of that life, I probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer. But you helped me break away, you helped me get better, and you showed me what it is to be loved. Not for my body, but for me.” Jimin paused, settling down more comfortably against the edge of the bathtub. “And now it’s my turn to do the same for you. So please, just…let me help you, okay?” Yoongi licked his dry lips and nodded, eyes on their intertwined hands.    That wasn’t the end of Yoongi’s dark days, but they did get better. Jimin did his best to not smother Yoongi while he kept a watchful eye on him; trying to give him as much love as possible, but not too much, because Yoongi hated that; he let Yoongi take charge any time he showed an interest in doing so, and always made sure he was available if Yoongi needed him. They talked more about what Yoongi was going through, so that he wouldn’t keep it bottled up inside like he had been doing. And when Jimin came down with a minor case of the flu a week before they were due to move, he wondered if he was imagining it when Yoongi almost seemed happy to be the one taking care of him instead of the other way around. It wasn’t like he was outright smiling as he rubbed Jimin’s back when he was crouched in front of the toilet, throwing up, but his overall attitude seemed lighter and less stressed. Jimin was sitting on the floor in front of Yoongi’s computer (also on the floor, as most of the furniture was gone by that point), chatting with Namjoon as Yoongi fixed himself a coffee in the kitchen. With Taehyung back in Seoul, Jimin wasn’t using Korean as much—he still didn’t like speaking it with Yoongi unless it was to have secret conversations in public—so he often practiced over Skype. “/Hey, do you want to see some pics of your new place?/” Namjoon asked him, pausing to wait for Jimin to stop coughing before continuing. “/I checked it out with Bang PD-nim today and dropped off some of your things that arrived in the mail./” It was only a temporary lease, but Yoongi’s company was setting him up with an apartment to stay in until he could look for one on his own. He was free to choose to stay if he liked the apartment, but Yoongi and Jimin had already discussed it; they knew they would both feel more comfortable picking an apartment on their own, since Jimin had no connection to the company, and it felt strange if he was staying in company housing—especially if they had to keep their relationship secret. “/Sure,/” Jimin nodded, pulling his blanket closer as he leaned forward. “/ Yoongi-hyung’s just getting his daily intake of caffeine. He’ll be here in a second./” It didn’t feel as odd adding ‘hyung’ to the end of Yoongi’s name anymore, but Jimin still preferred to forego it when they were in private. He didn’t want to accidentally slip up once they got to Korea, though, so he’d been practicing with Namjoon and Taehyung. “/How’s he doing, by the way?/” Namjoon’s eyebrows raised in concern. He'd been filled in on Yoongi's breakdown shortly after it had happened; Yoongi had never logged in for a scheduled Skype call with him that day. He'd known about Yoongi's past as well. Jimin shrugged. “/He’s/—oh, hi,” he broke off, as Yoongi sat down beside him, shoving him slightly with their proximity, and then pulled the blanket up over Jimin’s shoulders after he’d set his steaming mug down. “/Yoongi-hyung’s good,/” Yoongi answered in third person, holding his mug up to his face and inhaling deeply. “/Did I hear you mention apartment pictures?/” “/Yeah, yeah,/” Namjoon nodded, and they could see him focusing on something on his monitor rather than the camera, as he clicked through something on his computer. “I’ll share screens, okay?/” Jimin leaned forward to accept the offer to view Namjoon’s screen, and then they watched as a cursor moved quickly to maximize a folder and begin clicking through photos. “/Oh, wow, that’s bigger than I thought it’d be!/” Jimin exclaimed, wincing slightly as the volume of his own voice triggered a jolt of pain through his temples. Namjoon snorted. “/Well it’s not like you’re moving to Japan,/” he pointed out. “With the rent you’ll be paying, this is pretty good. It’s a two-bedroom, one bath apartment with a somewhat small kitchen-slash-dining area, and a living room with a balcony. And it’s only about fifteen minutes from the BigHit building by car./” Jimin liked how shiny and new the hardwood floors looked, and said so, only to have Namjoon laugh at him. “/That’s not hardwood, Jiminie; that’s a linoleum layer printed to look like hardwood!/” “/Oh. Well, it looks nice,/” he amended, feeling embarrassed. "/It does,/" Yoongi agreed. "/It looks really nice. We've even got a guest room,/" he joked, since they both knew that the second room was supposed to be for Jimin.  Namjoon cracked up. "/That reminds me; we were going to order beds so you have something to sleep on when you arrive... what do you want to do about that?/"  Jimin felt a little embarrassed talking about the fact that they sleep together, even though Namjoon was very much aware that they were in a relationship, and had continued to treat them exactly the same as he did before they got together. At least they weren't talking about what Jimin and Yoongi did in bed together. Yoongi glanced at Jimin. "/How about buying a full size for one room, and a twin for the other?/" Jimin shrugged. "/That's fine with me./" "/Okay, do you have a preference for which room you want?/" Namjoon scrolled through the photos again and pointed out two in particular. "/Here's one room. It has a big window, but a small closet. And this is the other room. It doesn't have any windows, but there's a walk-in closet attached. The rooms are the same size./" "/Jimin? What do you prefer? I honestly don't care,/" Yoongi said. Jimin looked between the two photos. He liked having morning sunlight, so he picked the one with the window. "/Okay! Window it is,/" Namjoon said brightly. After they ended the call with Namjoon, Jimin curled into Yoongi's right side, drawing the blanket around both of them. "Did you see the bathroom?" he asked, voice slightly dreamy. Yoongi chuckled, and dropped a light kiss onto his warm and slightly sweaty forehead. "Why, did you like it?" "Yeah, the tub is so deep," Jimin pointed out. "We could definitely take baths together without worrying about overflowing the tub," he sighed. After several minutes he realized he had been dozing off. Yoongi's right hand was buried in his hair, softly running through the strands and massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Jimin let out a little whine, and the fingers paused briefly before resuming. Jimin desperately wanted to kiss Yoongi, but he didn't want to get him sick, too. “Why don’t you take a nap, Jimin?” Yoongi suggested. “You’re falling asleep on me.” “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Jimin mumbled, snuggling his face closer into Yoongi’s neck, and pulled his knees up over Yoongi’s lap. “Well, I do. The floor isn’t exactly the most comfortable.” Always the realistic one, Yoongi. Jimin loved it and hated it. “Fine.” Jimin dragged himself to his feet, stumbling a little as a wave of vertigo hit him. “Whoa there,” Yoongi seized his bicep with an abruptly strong grip from his right hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jimin waved him off. “I’ll lie down, don’t worry.” “Good. You need to get better before my family’s Christmas party,” Yoongi reminded him. Jimin leaned back into the pillow throne, tugging at his favorite pillow and allowing Yoongi to pull the blankets up to his chin. He held the back of his hand to Jimin’s forehead for a moment before pulling away. “I think your fever’s going down. You’re still warm, but not as much as before.” “Mmm.” Jimin let his eyes drift shut. He felt like he was floating. “Do you think it’ll snow on Christmas? Does it get cold in Seoul?” “Hmm. Maybe. It definitely gets cold enough. I’ve never been there during Christmas, though. One year we visited my grandparents in Daegu for Christmas, but that’s more southern.” “I want a white Christmas,” Jimin mused. “And carols…and a tree, and…” he trailed off, remembering his first Christmas with Zoe and Chris. It was the best Christmas he’d ever had. None of the following years could possibly hold a candle to it. It wasn’t that they’d had an overly extravagant Christmas. But the love Jimin had felt that year had been overwhelming after all of the mediocre ones he’d had while in the children’s home and foster care. He and his newly adoptive mother had spent hours in the kitchen together, baking Christmas cookies, discussing the logistics of Santa—because Jimin had been a loyal believer until his friends shamed him into finally realizing the truth at the ripe age of ten—belting out Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You,’ Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,’ and Bing Crosby’s ‘Mele Kalikimaka,’ until they’d both lost their voices. Usually Jimin ended their karaoke session with ‘Oh Holy Night,’ throwing all of his theatrics into it, with emotional hand gestures and facial expressions as he danced around the kitchen with a spatula as a microphone. He and Chris had decorated a gingerbread house together—Jimin’s first ever—and ended up eating half of the candy before they even had a chance to get it onto the house. His mother had scolded them for several minutes before sighing and telling them to just make sure they cleaned up the mess afterward. They’d even gone to a Christmas tree farm to cut down their own tree that year. They told Jimin to pick it out, and he’d chosen the fattest, fullest tree he could find. It barely fit in their living room once they got home, and Chris ended up having to give the tree a minor haircut before they were able to get the star on top and deck it out with lights and ornaments. (The following year they just bought a pre-cut tree to avoid that situation from happening again.) “Jimin?” There was a hand on his cheek. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He opened his eyes to blink up at a blurry Yoongi hovering over him, looking concerned. A small sob broke from him, and he pushed his face into Yoongi’s stomach. He missed them so much. Before everything changed. Before they stopped being a family. When he was younger, he had missed his real parents, but after so many years had passed, and his earliest childhood memories had nearly all faded, it was only a dull feeling in the back of his mind. But this, this was cruelly fresh. “What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked again. “Jiminie?” But Jimin just shook his head, smothering himself against Yoongi’s stomach. “You’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong?” He rubbed circles into Jimin’s back. “I miss my family,” he finally choked out after a few minutes of soaking Yoongi’s shirt with his tears. “Your…? Oh.” Yoongi pulled Jimin up and close, clearly forcing extra strength into his good arm. Jimin tried to avoid the arm folded between them. He pressed his forehead into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and fisted his fingers in Yoongi’s shirt. “Jimin, I know you miss them. But you don’t need to. Your family is right here. And it always will be.” “Are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure.”   A few days before the Min family Christmas party, Jimin went shopping for Yoongi’s gift. He’d told Yoongi he was picking up a short shift at work to help make up for the ones he missed when he was sick, but instead of going to work, he headed to the mall. Jimin had no idea what to get him, and ended up wasting a good two hours meandering through various shops. With the big move coming up in a handful of days, and with nearly everything already packed except the clothes they were wearing, not to mention all of the random stuff they were passing off to Yoongi’s family, Jimin really didn’t want to add to their luggage. It was as he was browsing listlessly through the winter clothing selection that he finally got an idea. Although Yoongi hadn’t mentioned it, Jimin was sure that people would be wearing nice clothes at the party. Most of Yoongi’s clothing was very casual, so Jimin thought it would be good to get him something nice to wear. Now with a clear goal in mind, Jimin began to look through the dressier pieces of clothing. He couldn’t imagine Yoongi wearing half of the holiday sweaters they had available, though, so he moved on to a fancier, more expensive store and browsed through their men’s winter section. Finally, he found the perfect gift. A high quality black sweater that would look great on Yoongi. It was nice enough to wear for a special occasion, but casual enough that he could wear it whenever. Sure, Yoongi had enough black in his wardrobe, but Jimin wasn’t about to start giving him fashion advice. He got the sweater gift-wrapped at the register, because there was no way he would be able to hide it once he got home. “Would you like to write a short message in one of the complimentary cards we have available?” the cashier asked him as she carefully wrapped it far more beautifully than he could have himself. “Uh, sure. These ones?” he asked, indicating the small credit-card sized cards on display in front of the register. When she nodded, he picked out the least sparkly one and borrowed a pen to write a quick message. On his way out of the mall, he passed a hair salon, and paused. He was getting tired of his black hair. It had been the longest amount of time with the same hair color, and he was itching for a change. He quickly glanced at the time on his phone. He’d been shopping for long enough to count as a “short shift,” so he could just claim to have stopped by a salon after work. He put his phone back in his pocket and walked into the heavily scented salon. “Do you take walk-ins?” he asked, flashing the girl at the counter his best smile. She blushed and looked down at the list of names. “Um, I think there’s an opening in a bit, if you don’t mind waiting?” He shook his head. “That’s fine.” “Great! What’s your name?” “Jimin.” “Jimmy? Is that J-i-m-m-y?” He couldn’t help the chuckle that broke past his lips, but he didn’t correct her. “Yeah. Uh, that’s perfect.” “Okay, and what are you wanting to get done today?” “I wanted to color my hair. And maybe get a little trim, but not much. Just to keep it healthy, you know?” “Yeah, of course. Any colors in mind?” “Ummm, do you have one of those swatch books?” “Yes, of course. Here you go.” She handed him the heavy binder with the clips of fake dyed hair. He bypassed the crazy colors and sifted through the browns. He knew he wanted brown, but he wasn’t sure which kind yet. In the end he decided on a dark but warm chestnut-brown dye and had it trimmed close in the back as well as shortened his bangs quite a bit, leaving it much lighter and fluffier than before. It left him feeling light-headed and young. On impulse, he bought a pair of fake, thick-rimmed glasses, feeling a little like he was in disguise. It was exhilarating.   To his delight, Yoongi reacted well to his new look. “Nice glasses. I thought you were at work?” he raised his eyebrows, lips quirking up slightly, eyes laughing at him as he ran his fingers through it, lingering at the back of Jimin’s neck. But Jimin wouldn’t be tricked. “I was. But I felt like stopping by the hair salon on my way home. You like it?” Yoongi smiled and nodded. “It looks good on you. Even if you are copying me.” Jimin pouted. “Am not. Your hair is—” He was cut off by Yoongi’s mouth on his, and he stumbled back slightly, bumping into the kitchen counter. When they broke away a moment later, lips significantly wetter and redder than before, Yoongi pinched the back of his neck. “I’m just teasing. I love it.” Jimin pulled him back for another, deeper kiss.   On the afternoon of the party just before they started getting ready, Jimin pulled Yoongi aside. “I want to give you your gift early,” he said, suddenly feeling shy for some reason. He realized it was the first time he’d ever given Yoongi anything. “Oh.” Yoongi looked startled. “Uh, any reason?” Jimin just crinkled his eyes and pushed the package into his hands. “Just open it. You’ll see why.” Yoongi examined the package, eyes widening slightly as he saw the brand name on the gift wrap, glancing between it and Jimin, before he tugged off the tiny card and gently ripped it open. He read it silently, but Jimin followed his eyes across each line. Dear Yoongi, I’d write a sappy message in here, but I think I don’t need to, because …you know. Merry X-mas Love, Jimin Yoongi looked up, eyes warm. His voice was low, barely audible, when he spoke. “I know.” Jimin startled slightly, face heating up. He hadn’t expected him to respond like that to it. “Just open it,” he urged. Yoongi had a little trouble undoing the wrapping, so Jimin gave him an extra hand. When he finally revealed the sweater, he looked surprised. “Jimin…” he breathed, opening it up with Jimin’s help. “This is…wow, this is really…you shouldn’t have spent this much on me,” he finished, looking really moved. It had been a bit expensive, but Jimin almost never spent his hard- earned money, and he thought Yoongi was worth it. “I wanted to,” was all he said, though. “And I want you to wear it tonight.” Yoongi set the sweater down on the counter. “In that case…shall I give you your gift early, as well?” “Oh,” Jimin began, surprised. “You don’t have to. I just…I just wanted you to have something nice for tonight, since everything’s packed or gone.” Yoongi waved his hand dismissively. “No. I want you to have it now.” His gift was a lot smaller than Jimin’s sweater. It looked suspiciously like a jewelry box, making Jimin a little nervous as he took it from Yoongi. “I don’t have a card, sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t really do cards or letters.” Jimin nodded. “That’s okay.” He unwrapped the thin box (“Just so you know, Hobi did the wrapping for me, so if you think it’s ugly, blame it on him”) and slowly slid the lid off. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Jimin breathed, when he saw the silver necklace inside. It had a simple chain, with a flame ring latched between the two sides. It was fancy but not flashy or obnoxious, and Jimin was very thankful that there were no gemstones. “There’s also—” Yoongi reached forward to push at the cushioning, where a pair of earrings had slipped behind. “They’re not really matching, but they sort of match?” he said somewhat awkwardly, scratching at his neck. The earrings, also silver, were asymmetrical, one a simple thin hoop, the other with long chains dangling from the hoop. “I noticed you like wearing jewelry, but I wasn’t sure what—” “I love them,” Jimin cut him off, trying to save him the agony. Apparently Yoongi wasn’t good at giving sentimental gifts to people. “They’re perfect,” he continued. He picked up the necklace and immediately latched it around his neck, liking the way it felt, cool and heavy against his collarbone. “Thank you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss him slowly.  After a moment he pulled back slightly, lips still resting against Yoongi’s. “You should try on your sweater.” He stole another quick peck before drawing back completely. “All right.” He helped remove the sling and gently pull off Yoongi’s shirt. “As much as I love the idea of you wearing nothing under this sweater, you probably should wear something,” he joked, running his fingers down the center of Yoongi’s chest. “Where are your dark undershirts?” It didn’t take long for them to get ready, and their Uber was right on time. Traffic was awful going to Yoongi’s parents’ house, but at least they could just sit back and relax in the backseat of the Uber, conversing in Korean to keep their conversation private from the driver.  The Mins’ house was decked out for Christmas, although it was simple; a fresh wreath on the front door, a trimmed Christmas tree in the front window, and a simple Nativity scene set above the fireplace mantel. Christmas songs were playing on the stereo, and a menagerie of warm, delicious smells enveloped them as they walked into the house. Joongi greeted them first, his girlfriend Hayi by his side. She gave Yoongi a quick hug, complimenting him on how he had “cleaned up nicely,” and then she smiled and shook Jimin’s hand as they were introduced. She seemed to already be aware of the fact that Jimin and Yoongi were an item; when she shook his hand, she leaned forward a little and whispered, “You two look good together,” which, other than cause him to turn a little pink, also made him wonder about what there was to hold Yoongi back now that it seemed like his entire family knew without him even telling.  Jimin thoroughly enjoyed the evening. While Yoongi, Joongi and Mr. Min were in the living room discussing Yoongi’s future career, Mrs. Min drew Jimin into the kitchen with her and Hayi as they prepared the table to eat. “Are you all packed and ready to go?” Mrs. Min asked him as she handed him a plate of steaming scallops to bring over to the table. “Just about,” he replied. He watched as Hayi brought out the wine, setting it at one end of the table. There were wine glasses at all six places. As always, Mrs. Min picked up on more than one would guess. “Jimin, you’re welcome to have a glass of wine with the rest of us. It’s the holidays.” “Oh. Thank you. I’d like that.” He’d tasted wine before when he still lived with Chris, so it wasn’t like it would be the first time. “Are you excited?” Hayi asked. “Excited?” Jimin frowned. “For Korea, you mean?” She nodded. “Yeah, I guess. More nervous than excited, though, I think.” “You’ll be fine,” Mrs. Min assured him. Dinner was delicious, with lots of laughter and refills of wine. Jimin could feel the flush in his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Sitting beside Yoongi, it was difficult to keep from leaning into him and locking their fingers together. Yoongi pulled away the first few times, but then seemed to give up, allowing Jimin to take his hand and play with it under the table until he wanted to use it to reach for his glass. Jimin giggled as Yoongi tried to free his hand to take the plate of apple pie Mrs. Min was holding out for him, and just held on tighter. “Jimin, come on,” Yoongi scolded him, obviously only pretending to be annoyed, but Jimin could hear the amusement in his voice. “Eomma, you shouldn’t have let him drink so much!” “Maybe you should get some fresh air,” Joongi suggested. “Just a couple minutes on the porch to clear his head a little?” “Joongi! It’s cold out there!” Hayi protested. “No,” Yoongi broke in, “I think that’s a good idea. We can eat dessert when we get back. Come on, Jimin.” Jimin let himself be pulled to his feet, and he giggled again when he tripped slightly, bumping into Yoongi’s side. “I’m sorry,” he tried saying, but he couldn’t get his voice to sound apologetic. “It’s fine, Jimin, don’t worry about it,” he murmured. “Let’s go see if we can see any stars, okay?” It was chilly outside; Jimin’s breath caught in his chest, and he quickly turned to wrap his arms around Yoongi, pressing close. The cold stilled his giddiness, but not the overwhelming happiness and love he currently felt. “Yoongi,” he hummed, resting his cheek against his shoulder as he gazed up at the sky. “Jimin.” He watched the cloud of air leave Yoongi’s lips, droplets of moisture glistening briefly before disappearing. Jimin straightened, only one thing in mind. He met Yoongi’s eyes silently for a long moment, the heat from the alcohol keeping his insides warm even as he shivered in the December night air. “I love you,” he whispered, and then leaned forward, closing his eyes. Yoongi tasted of wine and cranberries, and Jimin licked into his mouth, trying to take it all in. Yoongi’s hand was at his back, holding him steady and close. He shifted his head slightly, making it easier for their mouths to fit together. He took control, pushing Jimin’s tongue back into his own mouth, drawing a soft whimper from him. The sound seemed to startle some sense into Yoongi, and he gently broke the kiss, despite Jimin trying to steal another one. With a sigh, Jimin let his head fall back to Yoongi’s shoulder. He listened to the muffled Christmas music playing inside. He could tell it was ‘What Child is This,’ even though he couldn’t tell if there were lyrics or if it was just an instrumental rendition. Without thinking, he swayed slightly to the music, pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s neck. He felt the other man’s chin come down to rest on the top of his head, and Jimin moved his right hand up from around Yoongi’s waist to wrap around his left hand in the sling. Yoongi curled his fingers around his, and Jimin let out a big sigh as they stayed that way for several minutes, silently listening to the music switch to ‘Silent Night’ and moving gently back and forth together. There was click as the porch door opened, and Jimin whined and clutched Yoongi tighter when he felt Yoongi try to push him away. “/Oh—no, no, please don’t stop on my account./” It was Yoongi’s mother, and she was holding a thick, woolen throw blanket in her hands. “/I just thought you might want something to stay warm./” She reached up to drape the blanket around Yoongi’s shoulders and pull it tightly around Jimin as well. She ran her fingers through Jimin’s hair, causing him to smile happily at her before letting his eyes flutter shut. He heard her give Yoongi a peck on the cheek. “Eomma….” “/Not now, Yoongi-yah. We can talk later about your inability to keep a secret. Be with him right now. Just know that we’re happy for you both./” After she went back inside, Jimin giggled. “I love your mom.” Yoongi coughed. “I do too.” He was quiet for a moment. “You do realize what just happened, right?” “Mmm?” “We were caught.” “Caught? Doing what? I’m not doing anything right now,” Jimin grumbled as he pressed himself tightly against the other man, trying to get the blanket to cover his ears. “Yes you are,” Yoongi pinched his side. “She caught us snuggling.” “Heh. I like snuggling. It’s nice. And you’re warm.” “Are you cold? Do you want to go back in now?” “No, I want to be with you forever and ever,” Jimin mumbled, latching onto Yoongi’s neck and kissing him wetly. “Hey, no marks,” Yoongi warned him, making more of an effort to dislodge him. “’M not. Promise.” They eventually went back inside once Jimin’s giggles went away and he was feeling a little more self-conscious about what Mrs. Min had witnessed. “Are you two lovebirds frozen yet?” Joongi teased the moment they walked into the living room where everyone had retired, having finished their dessert long ago. “Hyung,” Yoongi protested, eyes wide as he paused in folding up the blanket. Jimin covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. This wasn’t how he wanted to come out to Yoongi’s parents. And it was his fault. But maybe it was for the best. Yoongi needed a kick in the right direction sometimes, and it seemed like this was one of those times. “He’s right, Yoongi-yah,” Mr. Min sighed, sounding both tired and amused. “You’re not fooling anyone.” Yoongi groaned and dropped to the sofa. “This is so embarrassing.” Jimin hovered by the side of the sofa, unsure what to do. Hayi got up and went back into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with their two plates of pie. Jimin thanked her and took his, finally sitting down beside Yoongi on the sofa, but leaving several inches between them. “We’ve been waiting for you to tell us,” Yoongi’s mother spoke. “We’ve been trying to give you hints that we were supportive of you, but you just never seem to pick up on them.” “I was going to tell you,” Yoongi admitted. “I just couldn’t decide when. I was going to do it soon. I really was. I just kept chickening out.” “We’ve suspected for a while,” Mr. Min pointed out. “But when you got into your accident, we knew.” Once the awkwardness and embarrassment wore off, the rest of the evening went very well. Jimin was happy to be able to stay close to Yoongi without hiding, even though Yoongi still seemed a little self-conscious about it, and kept the touching to a minimum. At the end of the night as they were saying their goodbyes, Mrs. Min held Jimin close and whispered into his ear. “Take care of Yoongi for me?” Jimin smiled. “Of course,” he whispered back. “He’ll be in good hands.” She let go and then raised her voice, turning to her son. “You take care of Jimin, understand?” her voice was mock-stern. “I don’t want to hear that he’s been left on his own once you start getting obsessed with your music and lock yourself in your studio. Because I know you’re going to do that.” “Eomma. I wouldn’t do that,” Yoongi insisted. “Right, Jiminie?” Jimin found himself blushing and looking down at his feet for some reason. When he looked up, Mrs. Min was smiling fondly at him. “I love you both so much,” she sighed, with an almost exasperated tone of voice. “It won’t be the same with you both so far awa—oh! Oh no, dear, please don’t cry!” Jimin startled as he was suddenly enveloped by her arms again, and realized in embarrassment that his eyes had watered. He was going to miss her, too. He let himself be wrapped in her loving embrace, taking in the motherly warmth that he had been deprived of for so long. He held her tightly, letting his chin fall onto her shoulder. “I swear he’s going to steal you from me someday,” Yoongi joked. Eventually they made it to the front step, back out in the cold, their Uber ride waiting in the driveway. “Merry Christmas, you two. Here are some cookies to take with you. You should share them with Namjoon-ah. We already sent off your Christmas package to Seoul, so it should arrive around the same time you do.”    Finally, the day came. Their flight was first thing in the morning; so early, in fact, that they decided to stay overnight in the hotel right by the airport the night before. Their hotel room was packed with suitcases, and Yoongi’s equipment was getting delivered to the airport so they could check it all before leaving. They had thought they could handle it themselves, but with Yoongi’s shoulder still healing, pushing the carts and carrying luggage was out of the question; Jimin couldn’t do it all himself. “Ah, I forgot how nice it is to sleep on a real bed,” Yoongi sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed. Jimin laughed and leaned over to kiss him lightly. “Me too.” He felt fidgety, and looked for something to do. “Hey, are you all right?” Yoongi asked, suddenly. “Yeah, I just…it feels weird knowing I’m going back to Korea, even though I don’t remember it at all. I’m just nervous, I guess.” Yoongi nodded. “Understandable.” He smiled warmly up at him. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. The only thing we need to worry about now is all that luggage,” he laughed. “Yeah. Good thing Namjoon-hyung said he’d meet us at the airport with a ride and some help to carry everything.” After Jimin had checked everything to make sure they hadn’t misplaced or lost anything on their way to the hotel, he turned to Yoongi. "I'm gonna go get some ice. You want anything? A soda or whatever?" he asked as he grabbed the ice bucket from the counter and pocketed his room key. "Nah, I'm good. There's a coffee maker right here." Jimin snorted. "Okay. Be right back."  Swinging the ice bucket by the handle, Jimin strolled down the hallway toward the ice machine. It was all the way down at the other end of the adjacent hallway, because this was a cheap hotel, and there was only one machine per floor. Jimin hummed quietly to himself, thinking about their flight in the morning.  He was an even mix of excited and nervous. He could barely remember the last time he'd been on an airplane—it had been when he went to visit his grandparents in Florida for Christmas when he was eleven—but he remembered not enjoying take-off or landing when his ears popped painfully and the plane hit bad turbulence on their descent. He hoped he'd be able to sleep on the plane. They couldn't afford anything above economy level tickets, and he’d heard that the seats were usually cramped. He knew Yoongi probably wouldn’t have a problem; he could sleep anywhere, at any time. His musings were interrupted when he finally reached the small alcove where the vending machines were kept. Someone was already at the ice machine, so Jimin hung back a little to wait as the man filled up his bucket. It only took him a few seconds of disinterested observation to realize the back of the man looked familiar. The shoulders, the head, even the posture—Jimin would never forget them. He took a small step back just as the man finished filling his bucket and turned. Their eyes locked, and it was like all of the air was sucked out of Jimin’s lungs. Chris’s eyes had widened in surprise at first, but quickly narrowed, an ugly smirk twisting the corners of his mouth. “Well isn’t this a lucky coincidence,” he said, and Jimin dropped the empty bucket he was holding. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he gasped out as he turned on his heel and bolted. He heard a loud thud and crash as ice hit the ground, scattering everywhere. “Don’t run from me, you little fucker!” Chris was right behind him. Jimin turned the corner, nearly hitting the opposite wall as he made the sharp turn into his and Yoongi’s hallway. He pushed himself off it and sprinted forward. Thirty feet from their door, Chris’s hand caught the back of his shirt, pulling him up short. “YOONGI!” Jimin shrieked, turning to push and pry at Chris’s fingers, but only succeeding in getting his arm snatched. “No, let GO OF ME!” He kicked and got free for a split second, only to be seized by the hair. He screamed, this time without words, as he fell hard to his knees on the ground, grabbing onto Chris’s hand to lessen the pull on his hair. “YOONGI!” Their door flew open, and Yoongi stumbled out, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Jimin!” He sprinted toward them, fury taking over his features. He caught up quickly, but with his broken shoulder he was no match for Chris, especially with the larger man possessed by such bitter anger and vengefulness. “Let him go, you fucking piece of shit!” Yoongi was thrown off, hitting the wall with a loud cry of pain, and Chris began dragging Jimin down the hallway from where they’d come. “Goddammit! Somebody, help!” Yoongi resorted to shouting over Jimin’s pained cries as he kicked and scratched at Chris’s arms that were trapping him. Jimin just barely heard a door down the hallway slam shut, and a second later he was roughly thrown to the side as someone grabbed Chris by the shoulder, wrenching him around and socking him in the face. He didn’t let go of Jimin, though, as he retaliated against the stranger. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” a woman’s voice shouted, and Jimin realized suddenly that the stranger was not a man, but a woman, and she was somehow not only holding her own against Chris, but she appeared to be winning the fight. She caught Chris in a headlock, and Yoongi took the opportunity to pry Chris’s fingers from around Jimin’s hair, setting him free. The instant Jimin was out of the way, the woman moved quickly, pulling Chris’s arms behind his back and forcing him down to the floor as she twisted his limbs painfully to subdue him. “Call the police,” she shouted at Yoongi, who immediately pulled out his phone. Jimin lay sprawled against the wall by his feet, heaving as his heart ran into overdrive. He didn’t really hear what Yoongi was saying into the phone. All he could see was Chris struggling against the woman, his face pushed into the carpet. He was swearing at Jimin and Yoongi in a way that Jimin had never seen before. It was like he was overcome by such extreme anger at Jimin and Yoongi that he couldn’t see straight. Jimin abruptly realized that Chris probably would have killed him if he’d been able to. He shivered and backed into Yoongi’s legs, reflexively latching onto one of them. He didn’t realize he was sobbing loudly and shaking until Yoongi crouched down to pull him up into a more comfortable sitting position against the wall. He used his good hand to hold the side of Jimin’s face, forcing him to look up at him and quiet down. “Jimin. Jimin, you’re okay. It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.” The doors to the stairwell swung open, and a hotel manager exited, followed by two police officers. It was too fast to have been from Yoongi’s call, so someone else in one of the rooms along the hall must have called. Yoongi straightened up and went to greet them. Jimin couldn’t stop staring at Chris’s face. He was quiet now, but he was staring unblinkingly up at Jimin with nothing but hatred in his eyes. For many years, Chris had cared for Jimin, but now there wasn’t an ounce of compassion in his face. The police officers helped relieve the woman of Chris, and Jimin was only vaguely aware of their conversation; she was a service member on her way home to visit family for the holidays. The police took a brief statement from her, and wrote down her contact information, thanking her for her service and assistance. Jimin tried to pull himself out of his cocoon of self-imposed silence when the woman bent down to check if he was okay, but he couldn’t do much more than tremble. Chris wasn’t even in the hallway anymore; he’d been handcuffed and taken away. But Jimin still stared at the place on the carpet where he’d been subdued. “He’s in shock,” he heard her say, from far away, even though her face was directly in front of his. “We’re going to need a statement from him,” one of the police officers said. The number of people standing in front of him increased, and Jimin flinched, drawing his knees up to his chest and scrambling back. Where was Yoongi? Why was everyone staring at him? A warm, sturdy hand touched his shoulder, pressing down and massaging his tense muscles. Jimin blinked and slowly turned to look up at Yoongi. “Hey, there,” he said softly. “Are you back with us?” Jimin wanted to throw himself into Yoongi’s arms, but there were people all around. He wanted them to leave. “/Too many people looking at me,/” he whispered, switching to Korean and fighting the tears now that he was starting to be more aware of himself. “/ I don’t want them to look at me./” Yoongi nodded, and then turned to the officers, lowering his voice. “Can we move somewhere more private? He’s uncomfortable with so many people here.” “Of course.”   “Can you tell me what exactly happened, young man?” “I was…getting ice, and he was there. And then I tried to run, but he caught me.” “Do you know that man?” “Yes.” “What is your relationship to him?” “He’s…my father.” “Adopted,” Yoongi added. “He was adopted.” “Yes, thank you. And can you tell me why you were running from your father?” “I, I…he…do I have to?” Jimin looked up, pleading with his eyes. “If he did anything to you, we need to know. I’m sorry if it seems inconsiderate, but that’s the only way we’re going to get any justice.” Jimin took a deep, shuddering breath, holding it in for several seconds before letting it go slowly. “He’s been forcing me to have sex with strangers for money, for porn,” he summarized in the briefest way possible. “Since I was a teenager. And he’s raped me. I finally escaped this year.” The officer was scribbling quickly, lips pursed. His entire demeanor had changed, become more serious than when he’d probably thought he was just dealing with an isolated attack. “If there is an investigation, or trial, you may need to—” “We’re leaving the country early tomorrow morning, though,” Jimin interrupted. “We’re moving back to South Korea. We’ve got our visas and everything. I can’t stay. I won’t stay.” “Don’t worry, we’re not going to force you to stay here. I’m just saying that we’ll have to have a way to keep in touch with you in case anything is needed.”   After they returned to their room a while later, it was quiet. Jimin couldn’t name the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t feel happy, or even relieved. Maybe he was still in shock. Or disbelief at what had happened. They were still leaving the country. That hadn’t changed. But now, it felt like Jimin wasn’t running from anything anymore. That shadow lurking at the back of his mind was gone. “Jimin,” Yoongi said softly. “Come here.” He held his hand out to him, and Jimin let himself fall against him. “You’re free.” “I’m free. I’m free.” “Yes.” Yoongi lifted his chin and caught his lips with his own. They backed up onto the bed, slowly removing their clothes and barely disconnecting their mouths the entire time. Yoongi climbed over Jimin, using his good arm to hold Jimin, his thumb brushing the spot just by his ear, fingers at the back of his neck to hold him up. They quietly made love, with soft touches and deep kisses. Jimin let himself feel everything, his high gasps and hitched breaths blanketing them in the near-darkness. He let Yoongi take care of him, he let him erase all of the pain, all of the fear. And when they came, Jimin first, with Yoongi following shortly after, they lay together just breathing heavily in each other’s arms. They washed up and climbed back into bed, setting every alarm they had for two in the morning before curling up together.   It seemed like the next second the alarms were going off. Jimin felt nauseous at the lack of sleep. Their journey through the airport seemed like a blur. It was confusing and a huge pain making sure they had all of the giant boxes of music equipment accounted for at the check-in counter, but finally everything was on the other side and they wouldn’t have to worry about it until they reached South Korea, when they would have Namjoon to help. Yoongi had to get an extra pat-down and go through the x-ray machine rather than just the metal detector because of his sling, to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything dangerous, and Jimin waited on the other side of security for him. Yoongi slept most of the flight, while Jimin watched movies and listened to music, but he had trouble sleeping. He maneuvered his blanket over Yoongi so that the edges of both blankets overlapped, and he reached underneath to intertwine their fingers. He finally drifted off to sleep, his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.     “Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed at Incheon International Airport. The local time is eleven twenty-two AM, Wednesday, December twenty-third. The weather is partly sunny and mild, with a current temperature of seven degrees Celcius, or forty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Please remain seated until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign. Be careful opening the overhead bins, as the contents may have shifted during the flight. Please remember to take all of your belongings. Thank you for choosing Korean Air, a member of SkyTeam, and we hope to see you again.”     Jimin squinted into the light as they walked up the bridge from the plane. Jimin had Yoongi’s bag over one shoulder, his own duffel bag in the other hand. He’d refused when Yoongi tried to carry it. Yoongi had pulled down his favorite black snapback to shade his tired eyes, and was walking just ahead of him. It felt unreal. Suddenly everyone was speaking Korean around him, all of the signs were written in Hangul with English as a second thought. They collected their luggage, struggled to push it through immigration and customs in a daze, handing over their passports and visas and swearing that they didn’t have any contraband hidden in all of their music equipment. At long last, they were waved through customs, and they followed the stream of other passengers through the wide doors. A crowd of people was waiting on the other side, and the volume around them rose. Families, friends, coworkers, lovers. All waiting to greet their anticipated counterparts.   “Jimin-ah! Yoongi-hyung!” They both turned toward the deep, unexpected voice. Taehyung was standing next to Namjoon, smiling and waving his arms like a crazy fan trying to get the attention of their favorite popstar. Namjoon grinned and lifted his hand in greeting. Jimin beamed, pushing the heavy cart over to them and letting Taehyung lift him up in a bone-crushing hug. “/Welcome to Korea, Jimin-ah! I missed you so, so much!!/” Jimin laughed, coughing slightly as he was released and he got his feet back on the ground. “/I missed you, too, Tae./”   Jimin caught Yoongi’s eyes and felt like he couldn’t smile any wider. Maybe things would be all right, after all.     The End. . . . . .   (Is Just a New Beginning.) . . Chapter End Notes I can't believe it. We made it. I'm having trouble forming thoughts right now, so I'll save those for at the end of the epilogue. <3 Oh, and I just have to say that the slow dance with Yoongi wasn’t my idea. That idea was planted in my head by the wonderful Iio-chan (who supported me so much through the end of this monster of a story, thank youuuu), and the idea refused to leave until I included it. I'm not sure if it's what she was imagining when she mentioned it, but that's the way it turned out, lol. Stay tuned for the Epilogue! Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time, and please don't forget to leave a comment! I'd love to know what you think! ***** Epilogue ***** Chapter Notes I sincerely apologize for the way longer wait than usual…nearly an entire month has passed. I’m not going to go into all the reasons why it took so long; there were many, and you can probably guess at least one of them, which shook up the entire kpop world mid-December. But finally the epilogue is here, and I hope it’s worth the wait! I was so emotional writing this—laughing and crying, and getting so excited to share it with you all. Warnings—no new tags, but just a reminder that they are in place…but yeah, we’ve got some dirty sex in this chapter, and some laughs, and some touching moments...enjoy! Music to guide your way: Nell, ‘Perfect’ (holy crap, the lyrics, the tone, everything fits this SO WELL) https://youtu.be/pc5f6H8IxFQ Michael FK & G. Strizzolo, 'Math' (Michael FK Version) https:// youtu.be/C21Zt-Qr7SU Yal!x, ‘I’ll go on’ https://youtu.be/PpeoIQKwoHA Yal!x & Michael FK, 'The World Can Wait' https://youtu.be/OR_7G-oAPq4 Kisnou & Blure, 'Falling Deeper' https://youtu.be/bG11RwQZ3ds See the end of the chapter for more notes Epilogue Part I   Jimin looked down at the card in his hand, hardly able to believe it. He kept putting it back into his wallet and then taking it out again, just to make sure it was still there. To make sure it was real. Every time he saw it, he couldn’t help the small smile that stretched his lips. He was currently sitting on one of the chairs in Big Hit’s company waiting room—more like a hallway, to be completely honest—while he waited for Yoongi to finish up with some recording work. He’d been waiting for quite a while already, and was practically buzzing with impatience in his seat, but if he had to wait for Yoongi, he could wait. The door clicked open, and he practically leapt from his seat, before falling back and ducking his head in embarrassment. It wasn’t Yoongi, but whichever singer he’d been working with. She noticed him and bowed slightly in acknowledgement, but didn’t really say anything other than the typical greeting after finishing work. Jimin was a common face around these parts of the building, but most of the singers didn’t know what his connection to the company was, so he knew they were just playing it safe by showing him respect. They probably thought he was a songwriter or music video editor. Truth be told, he had recorded songs in the building before, but it was usually at odd hours, and with only Yoongi or Namjoon present, or occasionally their boss, Bang Shihyuk. Yoongi liked to jokingly call Jimin a “freelance singer;” it was a little unusual, but Jimin still felt uncomfortable being under any kind of spotlight, so whenever Yoongi just had to have Jimin’s voice on a track, it was done anonymously. The vocal credits went to ‘JM,’ mostly to keep people from complaining that no credit was given at all. When it seemed like no one else was coming out of the room, Jimin stood up and carefully knocked before opening the door.  "Yoongi-hyung?" Yoongi looked up from his seat at the computer. He looked exhausted, but a warmth shined from his eyes that Jimin liked to think only he could cause. "Jimin." He raised his hand to beckon him over. "Lock the door, will you?" Jimin did so, before walking over and letting himself be drawn into Yoongi's arms. Yoongi hummed and pressed his face into Jimin's neck, breathing in and holding him tightly.  "Miss me?" Jimin teased. "I've been so strung out over this singer's album. Sometimes it seems like it's going perfectly, but then there's days like today when we have to go over the same fucking part again and again and…. Ugh. I needed this." He held Jimin even tighter, gently rocking him side to side. "I have something to show you; do you want to see?" Jimin started to pull away so he could reach his wallet. Once again, he took out the card, barely holding in his wide smile as he handed it to Yoongi.  "Park Jimin," the producer read aloud. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the card silently. "Read it again," Jimin demanded, the giddiness starting to show.  Yoongi's lips quirked, and he said it more slowly this time. "Park. Ji. Min." He laughed when Jimin did a little dance in the small space of the recording studio. "I like the sound of it," he said, handing the card back.  Jimin couldn't contain himself, and tugged Yoongi close to kiss him deeply, tasting the bitter coffee on his tongue. "It's my name," he said, once they pulled apart. "My real name." "We should celebrate," Yoongi nodded, and moved to begin collecting his belongings, saving everything on the computer before locking it and turning back to Jimin. "How about we pick up a bottle of wine on our way home?" Yoongi tugged on his typical black mask and pulled his hood up; the necessities of being famous, even if it was only within a certain kind of crowd. He’d told Jimin on more than one occasion that he didn’t care if he was seen with ugly bags under his eyes, or messy bed head, or five o’clock (AM) shadow, but he did it so that Jimin didn’t have to hide. These days, there wasn’t really any concern about anyone finding or doing anything to Jimin—they knew that Chris had been sentenced to several years in prison, and most of Jimin’s viewers had been in the States anyway—but Jimin still felt better without cameras on him. If no one saw Yoongi, no one noticed Jimin. They took a while to decide on the wine, but in the end came to an agreement on a bottle of red wine. Nothing particularly special, but it was one they both liked.   The wine bottle sat on the coffee table, empty. Two glasses, of varying degrees of emptiness, rested nearby. The living room was quiet, other than the soft, wet sound of lips and tongues moving against each other. The Seoul night skyline, broken only by the dark shadow of the Han River, sparkled down below through the windows. Jimin felt warm, and so, so loved as he pulled Yoongi close, leaning back on the sofa. “Let me make you feel good tonight,” Yoongi whispered, starting to pull Jimin’s shirt up and undo his jeans. Jimin smiled. “You always make me feel good, hyung,” he pointed out as he helped tug his shirt off. He’d gotten so used to using ‘hyung’ that it had started to feel almost like a term of endearment to him. Before, he hadn’t understood that using it didn’t mean Yoongi was any less close to him, even though he knew that if someone senior to him allowed him to drop the honorific, that was a significant show of closeness and trust. Jimin had a feeling that Yoongi liked it both when Jimin dropped the ‘hyung,’ and when he used it on its own, without his name attached. “Yes, but tonight I just want you to let me take care of you. Reward you for your hard work.” Yoongi’s lips quirked. “You really do work too hard, you know.” Jimin was infamous for late-night dance practices, coming home with sore muscles, needing nothing but to curl into Yoongi’s side and cuddle him—unless Yoongi was awake enough to give him a massage. “Says the man who locks himself in his studio until god knows what time in the morning,” Jimin retorted, flicking him lightly on the forehead. “Shh. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” And then Jimin could only gasp as Yoongi yanked hard on his jeans to pull them and his boxers down at once. Yoongi was still fully dressed, but Jimin was completely bare, lying there on the sofa. Jimin felt a quiver of excitement run through his body as they held each other’s gazes for a moment. “Can you imagine the havoc it’d cause if people knew dirty-mouthed, takes-no- shit-for-an answer, bad boy rapper Agust D has such a beautiful man like this?” Yoongi wondered aloud, and Jimin felt himself flush. “Yoongi, don’t talk like that,” he whined, trying to cover his face in embarrassment, but feeling pleased all the same. Yoongi leaned back down over him, lifting his chin up to gently kiss him. But Jimin wasn’t going to let him be that soft. He opened his mouth wider and drew him in, sucking on the corner of Yoongi’s mouth as the self-proclaimed ‘bad boy rapper’ lightly pinched Jimin’s plump lower lip between his teeth and then licked into his mouth. Yoongi’s hands weren’t idle. Jimin jumped slightly as he felt fingertips slide down the sides of his ribs, practically dancing along his skin. It was just on the edge of making him feel ticklish, but the touches were hard enough to send the potentially laugh-inducing sensations to his groin instead. And when the fingers began to massage the hollows in his hips, dangerously close to his crotch, Jimin had to break the kiss to moan. Yoongi didn’t stop kissing him. He just moved. First his jaw, then his neck, sucking hard on his Adam’s Apple, flicking his tongue into the dip of his clavicle, kissing down his chest; Jimin whimpered loudly when one of his nipples was bitten hard and then soothed with a wet tongue and such a strong suckle that he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned dark in an hour. “Yoongi,” he murmured, letting his eyes flutter shut. Yoongi only hummed against his skin in acknowledgement as he worked his way down Jimin’s torso. He could tell where this was going, but the knowledge still didn’t prepare him for it. Jimin threw his head back over the arm rest as Yoongi’s hot mouth enveloped his entire length. Yoongi didn’t often go down on him; that was more of something Jimin enjoyed doing, but now and then when Yoongi was feeling especially giving, he would suck Jimin off. And he was so good at it. Jimin couldn’t control his cries as Yoongi’s tongue massaged him, and he fought against the strong suction surrounding his dick. Yoongi’s fingers began stroking at his entrance, but didn’t push inside. Jimin tried to shift down against them, but Yoongi held him still. “Don’t tease me, Yoongi,” he complained, only getting a laugh in return. “Calm down; I want to take it slow, and enjoy every moment. And I haven’t even gotten the lube out yet.” “Hurry up and get it, then.” He kneed Yoongi slightly, pushing him off the sofa. While Yoongi was in the bedroom, Jimin reached over and drained the rest of his wine glass, swirling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing it down to savor the taste. He lazily touched himself, feeling the saliva on his dick already begin to dry. After a few moments, he suddenly realized Yoongi hadn’t come back yet. He’d been unconsciously jerking himself off, and was abruptly close to coming, but Yoongi was nowhere in sight. He stumbled to his feet, a little off-balance from the wine, and managed to make his way to the bedroom. “Yoongi,” he whined, knowing how heartbroken his voice sounded. “What’s taking you so long? I need you. I’m gonna come without you.” Yoongi wasn’t in the bedroom. He was in the bathroom, and Jimin could hear water running. When he stepped into the bathroom, stomach tense and cock leaking pitifully, Yoongi looked up at him. “Why did you leave me all alone out there?” “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, Jimin,” Yoongi immediately took him in his arms. “I just realized I’m kind of gross from being in the studio all day, so I thought we could take a bath together before—oh, shit.” While he’d been talking, Jimin had only been half listening. He’d continued to stroke himself and push against Yoongi’s body, until suddenly it was too much and he was coming all over the bathroom floor. Yoongi caught him around the waist before he lost strength in his legs. “You didn’t even fuck me,” Jimin breathed, feeling a little dizzy. Maybe he’d had a little too much wine. It had been a large bottle. And he’d been so excited. “I wanted you to fuck me,” he complained, voice getting a little bit childish. He knew that Yoongi knew what he liked when he got needy like this. Sure enough, Yoongi leaned close to his ear and whispered so that his lips brushed against his lobe. “Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you real hard, baby.” Yoongi didn’t particularly like pet names, and Jimin didn’t like most of them either, having been called a multitude of derogatory and degrading names throughout his time in front of the camera, but for some reason the only one he’d allowed was that one. Jimin hated the name when he was sober, but when he was tipsy or drunk, hearing that word come from Yoongi’s mouth made him tingle all over and feel like getting as close as possible to him. They’d discovered this shortly after moving to Korea, after they’d come back from a holiday party, both barely able to get their shoes off in the small front hall of their apartment. Jimin had been giggly and overly cute—and extremely horny. Yoongi had mockingly called him a baby, only for Jimin to demand to be called that again, and then proceeded to make out with him all of the way to their bedroom where they ended up fucking rougher than normal even though Jimin didn’t let up on the cutesy act. Now, Jimin let out a soft whimper. “Please.” Yoongi guided him into the hot water—it felt soft from the bath salts he’d already added. His head was still spinning from the wine and his orgasm, but he couldn’t let himself fall asleep yet. Luckily Yoongi climbed into the bath soon after, maneuvering Jimin around in the water until he was lying back in Yoongi’s lap. Jimin reached down to play with Yoongi’s dick where it rested along under the crack of his ass. Yoongi breathed out heavily, and pushed the palm of his hand hard against Jimin’s stomach below his belly button. “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispered into Jimin’s ear. It made him whimper and rub himself harder against Yoongi. But then he remembered that Yoongi had promised to take care of him tonight, and he slowed down, sinking slightly into the water. It was barely a moment later that he felt a long, blunt finger squeeze its way into him, and he moaned softly, leaning his head back onto Yoongi’s shoulder so that he could reach his neck with his mouth. “Hyung,” he breathed, rolling his hips and sucking wetly at his neck. “More…please.” They knew each other’s bodies so well by this point; Yoongi switched the one finger to three, pushing in deep and dragging his fingertips across Jimin’s prostrate. He nearly screamed, biting his lip quickly to muffle himself in time. “So good,” he choked out, eyes shut tightly, continuously rocking against the hand that pumped in and out of him. He heard a small splash, and then another, and suddenly Yoongi froze. “Shit, the floor.” “Wha—?” Jimin couldn’t get his brain to comprehend what Yoongi was talking about. “We can’t fuck in the tub, we’ll get water everywhere,” Yoongi pointed out. “Well then drain it, or get us out,” Jimin demanded. He yelped when Yoongi suddenly lifted him by one leg and his torso—since when had Yoongi gotten so strong?—and shoved him against the counter. They were dripping water everywhere, but at least it wasn’t waves of water pouring over the sides of the tub. Jimin didn’t even notice Yoongi lube himself up, but then Yoongi thrust into him hard, pushing him onto the cold counter, making Jimin fall back against the mirror. He accidentally knocked over several bottles as he scrambled for some kind of purchase. He could only find the sink faucet, which he grabbed onto tightly with one hand, the other holding onto Yoongi’s shoulder. Jimin cried out as he felt a finger push in beside Yoongi’s cock. It was almost too much, but then Jimin opened his eyes and saw the way Yoongi’s eyes were dark and staring him down, and he could only spread his thighs wider and buck his hips more. “Y-Yoongi. Oh god, kiss me, please, please, need you,” he babbled, purposely making his voice as weak as possible. After all time they’d been together, Jimin had figured out which things riled Yoongi up, and whenever Jimin wanted to be wrecked, he made sure to push all the right buttons even if he was exaggerating a little. “Fuck.” Yoongi nearly bit his lips, practically swallowing his tongue and muffling the loud, sob-like moan that burst out when Jimin felt two long fingers push in deep and begin wiggling around even while Yoongi’s cock continued to slide in and out of him. The shock suddenly gave him hiccups, and Yoongi began laughing when Jimin’s entire body jerked each time a hiccup hit him. “’s not…fuh—agh! ((hic)) funny,” Jimin protested. “Duh ((hic)) don’t laugh—AH!—at me.” “But it’s so cute,” Yoongi pointed out. “Don’t call me cute when you’ve got your fingers and dick up my ass,” Jimin retorted as fast as he could before another hiccup got him, and then suddenly fell back against the mirror again, knocking over another container—this time it spilled, and Jimin’s hand was coated in what he knew to be Yoongi’s shower gel. He took advantage of the slipperiness of his hand and reached down to grasp his own dick. He twisted and squeezed tightly, before quickly pumping in time with Yoongi’s thrusts. It didn’t take long before he was clenching around Yoongi and coating his abs with white. Yoongi pulled his fingers out and plunged deep into him a few more times before he shuddered and released hot semen into him. For a while their breaths were loud and labored, Jimin’s still a little high and gasping as he tried to bring in enough air to fight the encroaching whiteness, but slowly their heart rates went down, and with a wet squelch, Yoongi pulled out and helped him back to his feet. Jimin felt cum drip down his thighs. “Goddamn, I’m gonna need another bath,” he laughed weakly. His knees buckled. “And for you to carry me to bed.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Such a needy baby.” Jimin wasn’t nearly as drunk as before. “Don’t you start that now,” he warned in a low voice. . . . . . . . . . .   Epilogue Part II     JIMIN   After settling into Seoul with Yoongi, Jimin finally finishes his GED. He goes on to attend Seoul University of Arts part time, pursuing dance and choreography. He joins the Korea National Contemporary Dance Company before he graduates. Although he still feels uncomfortable with cameras on him, he is less afraid than before. Usually the only coverage he gets is in the form of independent art or dance magazines. They have a very specific readership demographic, so he doesn’t mind as much. These days, he occasionally features as an anonymous singer for rapper Agust D. Vocal credits go simply to ‘JM.’ He lives an otherwise quiet life, blinking in and out of the spotlight from time to time whenever he has a big production, or is caught around the city with his more famous friends. He is happy, and healing.     YOONGI   Yoongi becomes a successful producer and semi-famous rapper. He does live shows every now and then when he releases mixtapes, but he doesn’t focus on that because his first and foremost desire is to simply create music. The love of fans, his ‘ARMY,’ is an added bonus. He secretly features Jimin in songs nearly every time he releases a mixtape, to the point that he becomes a familiar voice on Agust D’s tracks. A few years into his producing work, Yoongi is nominated and receives an award for writing and producing a song with an up-and-coming singer that shoots up the charts despite its controversial lyrics. Yoongi buys a nice apartment overlooking Han River, where he and Jimin continue to live together.     NAMJOON   Namjoon continues to be a successful and popular rapper. RM collaborates with Agust D on a regular basis. He is often seen hanging out with Agust D’s mystery man JM, both alone and as a group, but he also dodges questions whenever asked about his identity. In addition to his work in music, Namjoon also is heavily involved in charity campaigns, fighting against domestic violence, trying to open up the conversation about mental health and acceptance of diversity. Whenever he is asked why he cares so much about those issues, he only answers that not only have they had a significant impact on himself and people close to him, but in general they are issues that need to be addressed, especially in Korea. Eventually he receives the Seoul Community Service Award, and has an emotional celebration with all of his closest friends in the quiet of his own apartment.     HOSEOK   Hoseok gets recognition for his dancing and choreography, and moves to Seoul a few years later to open up a dance studio called ‘Hope on the Street.’ He regularly does the choreography for big name idols. When he has time, he, Agust D, and RM enjoy collab-ing together like they had when they were younger. He and Jimin dance together for fun, teaching each other moves from their respective genres, each of them always open to learning more about the others’ style of dance.     TAEHYUNG   Taehyung finishes university and interns under a big fashion label for a couple of years while he works on creating his own label. It takes time, but eventually his label takes off, and becomes popular in Korea and Japan. Despite his busy schedule, he always manages to have time to hang out with Jimin, whether it be for karaoke sessions, or clubbing, or billiards. He never fails to tease Jimin mercilessly whenever he spots marks on his skin from having “too much fun with Yoongi-hyung.”     SEOKJIN   Seokjin, who has been living in Seoul ever since graduating from high school, has become a successful businessman. Namjoon gets back in touch with him and then the two of them decide to surprise Yoongi at a dinner (with Jimin’s help to make Yoongi less suspicious about why they’re all going to a nice restaurant with no apparent reason to celebrate). He finally meets Jimin. Seokjin becomes quite close with Jimin, ‘taking him under his wing,’ so to speak. He has a fondness for dad jokes, and Jimin is apparently incapable of not laughing at each and every joke the older man makes. It might just be because Seokjin’s laugh itself is funny, though. With their similar personalities, it doesn’t take long for Seokjin to become the closest thing to being an older brother to Jimin.     JUNGKOOK   Jungkook has been studying full time in the States. He returns to Busan after graduating three years later, but soon moves to Seoul to work on movie editing. He and Taehyung have kept in touch over the years. Now they hang out when they have time, and eventually Jungkook (or JK, as Seokjin likes to call him) becomes part of the group. He grows out of his shy phase—both mentally and physically, shooting up to tower over both Jimin and Yoongi, and Jimin struggles to keep him in his place; if Jimin has to get used to the ‘hyung’ hierarchy, Jungkook should respect it as well, he thinks. There are a few times Jimin has to pull the “Yoongi Card” to put Jungkook in his place, but Jimin doesn’t like doing that because he feels that it is just working in Jungkook’s favor, proving that Jimin can’t gain his respect on his own. Either way, Jungkook’s almost adoring respect for both RM and Agust D is something that Jimin takes full advantage of on a regular basis. (He never claimed to be the mature one of the group.)  . . . . . . . . . . Epilogue Part III   “/Park Jimin-ssi?/” Jimin looked up at his choreographer. Her voice had an odd quality to it, like she was confused, and concerned…and something else she seemed to be trying to contain, all at the same time. “/Yes? What is it?/” “/I’ve just been told by reception that there’s someone with a very strange claim about you./” It had been years, but Jimin couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine at those words. “/What kind of claim? Who?/” He tried to keep his own voice calm. It wouldn’t do to panic. It could be anyone. “/You moved here from America, didn’t you?/” “/Yes…./” The feeling was getting stronger, clawing at his chest. He wished she would just get on with it before he started panicking. “/There is a woman claiming to be your grandmother. She said you disappeared when you were a child./” Jimin frowned, and didn’t say anything. What was she talking about? “/Jimin-ssi. Is that true?/” “/I…was adopted when I was young,/” he explained. “/My birth parents died when I was four./” “/And you were in America at the time?/” “/Yes./” “/And none of your relatives came to claim you?/” Jimin shook his head. “/Not as far as I know, but I don’t really remember./” “/Well, maybe you should meet this woman. She could be telling the truth./” Jimin tensed. “/Is she here right now?/” “/No, she contacted us over the phone. I guess she found the number of the Dance Company and called right away when she saw your name and picture in an arts magazine. Sunhee-ssi took down her contact information. It’s of course up to you whether you do anything with it, but I think you should at least speak with her./” Jimin collected the small note with the woman’s name and number. Her surname wasn’t Park, like he’d been expecting, but then again she hadn’t mentioned which side of his family she supposedly came from, and Jimin had learned that it wasn’t that uncommon for Korean women to keep their maiden names. Throughout the rest of the day, he folded and unfolded the piece of paper, almost to the point of ripping it clear in half. In a panic, he entered the number into his phone so he wouldn’t lose it.   When Jimin finally went to meet the woman, taking a day trip all the way south to Busan, Yoongi came along. They secretly held hands on the train, Jimin playing with Yoongi’s fingers nervously. His old photo album from before he was adopted rested safely in his bag. He planned to keep it secret until he felt sure that she was really who she was saying she was. He and Yoongi had poured over his photos, finding the ones taken with his grandparents. He tried to imprint their faces into his mind, hoping that he would jog his childhood memory, or at least recognize the woman when he met her. They met at a local tea shop. Jimin wasn’t ready to go straight to her home. Despite her age, the woman was beautiful. And maybe he was imagining it, but he felt like he could already see the similarities; her eyes, her nose, her delicate hands…. Jimin bowed politely and hesitantly held out his hand for her to shake it, but then retracted it when she didn’t notice the outstretched hand. She was too busy staring at him with wide eyes. The woman had a thick Busan satoori accent when she spoke. “/I can’t believe it. I saw you in an arts magazine when I was sitting in the hair salon, getting my roots touched up. I thought I was imagining it. The anniversary of their deaths only just passed last month; I thought I was simply being emotional. But then I read the article, and saw your name among the new dancers, and I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence./” Suddenly she laughed, although it was a wet laugh, and Jimin could see the sparkle of tears in the corners of her eyes. “/My poor hair stylist! She probably thought I was having a stroke! I made the receptionist look online for a way to contact you. Heavens knows I couldn’t have found the number with the way they don’t even make good old phonebooks these days./” They had sat down by this point, and Yoongi went to go order them drinks, leaving them to talk. “/I never knew I had family back…back in Korea,/” Jimin said quietly. “/I was so little that I don’t even remember—I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you. I can barely remember my parents. I couldn’t even speak Korean until relatively recently. I thought…I thought that if I had family, they would have found me before I was…adopted./” Her eyes were sad, but warm. “/We didn’t find out until much later about the accident. This was before cell phones and the internet made instant communication easy, and supposedly they couldn’t figure out the identities of the victims because they didn’t have anyone to translate their ID’s. The entire thing was handled terribly,/” she sighed, sounding like this was something she had come to terms with a long time ago, but at one time had been furious about. “/My daughter—your mother—told me they would be in America for half a year because of your father’s job. A few months had passed already since they left for America, and we only spoke very rarely because the long-distance calls were so expensive. I had spoken with her on the phone a few days before the accident—I know that now—so I didn’t think anything of it when I didn’t hear from her for a month or two. By the time I felt something was wrong, and tried to find out what had happened, they told me that everyone had died in the accident. I never even considered that there had been a mistake in the report, that there was a chance you were still alive, all on your own./” Jimin frowned. He wondered how Chris and Zoe had been able to get his birth certificate and legally adopt him, even make him a U.S. citizen, without someone back in Korea knowing that he was still alive. Unfortunately, he didn’t know those kind of details. “/I wasn’t adopted until I was eight,/” he told her. “/First, I was put into a children’s home for a year or two—I think that must’ve been when I started speaking English—/” “/Oh, no; your parents had you taking English lessons since you were a toddler,/” she interrupted with a shake of her head. “/They knew with your father’s job that they would likely need to move overseas, so they started you young./” Jimin’s mouth dropped open slightly. “/Oh. I…/” he trailed off. “/I don’t remember much from before I was five or six. But I guess…that makes sense./” It was strange to learn something like that about himself. She reached out to touch his face gently. He startled a little, but realized he didn’t feel threatened by the touch, and relaxed. “/My precious little prince,/” she said. “/You look exactly like your mother. I just knew it was my Jiminie when I saw your picture in the magazine. You haven’t changed one bit./” Yoongi returned, handing each of them steaming mugs of brewing tea. Jimin smiled up at him in thanks, and moved slightly so that Yoongi could sit beside him on the wooden bench seat. When Jimin looked back, he saw that the woman’s eyes were on Yoongi’s wrist; on the bracelet he wore. The tiny silver initials ‘JM’ were visible, having slipped out from under his sleeve when he reached for his mug. “/What’s your name?/” she suddenly asked Yoongi, looking at him properly for the first time. Yoongi bowed slightly for the second time that meeting, and extended his hand, left hand respectfully at his elbow. She took his hand carefully. “/I apologize for not introducing myself, halmeonim. My name is Min Yoongi/,” he replied. Jimin thought it was strange to hear Yoongi call her ‘grandmother’ when even he hadn’t yet tried out the name. But he supposed it was just another one of those aspects of Korean culture that he hadn’t gotten used to yet. “/Yoongi-ssi…tell me, have you been taking good care of my Jimin? You seem close./” “/I do my best,/” Yoongi answered at the same time as Jimin said, “/He has./” Jimin was relieved when he saw the soft smile on her face. He wasn’t sure if she recognized the nature of their relationship, but she didn’t appear to mind at this point. Perhaps she was simply so happy to see him alive and well that she wouldn’t care of he was dating a rock. “/I want to show you something, Jimin-ah./” She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. Jimin knew it was going to be photos before she even drew them out of the envelope, and he realized he was holding his breath. He quickly took in a gulp of air and seized Yoongi’s knee under the table. Yoongi discreetly brought his opposite hand down from the table, before shifting slightly to lean closer to the table, seeming like he was interested in the photos, but really just hiding the angle of his arm as he reached to clasp their hands together. The woman—his grandmother, he supposed he could start referring to her as—flipped through the photos, searching for a particular one. She pulled out an old, faded photo and held it out to him. Jimin sucked in his breath, squeezing Yoongi’s hand tightly. There was no denying that the child in the photo was Jimin. The eyes, the cheeks, the lips, even his nose…even though he’d aged plenty in the twenty-plus years since the photo had been taken, those features had never disappeared. He reached out to take the photo, looking closer. “/Here’s another, from your third birthday,/” she said. In this photo, Jimin was crying, possibly even screaming, in the arms of a twenty years’ younger version of the woman sitting in front of him. “/Your mother had scolded you for sticking your hands into the hot cake; you were upset that you couldn’t have cake right away, and frightened because you nearly burnt yourself. Almost burst my eardrums with your wailing./” she laughed fondly. Jimin took that photo, too, passing the other one to Yoongi to look at. “/Oh, and this one is one of my favorites./” She held out a photo, and Jimin gasped. He had the same photo. He dropped the one in his hands and scrambled to pull out the photo album from his bag, flipping quickly through the photos until he found it. He shoved the page forward onto the table. It was a Christmas photo, from when Jimin was four. Not long before his parents died. He knew because the back of the photo had the date written on it. In the photo, he was sitting on his father’s shoulders, reaching high up to put the star on the top of the tree. His mother’s arms were outstretched, ready to catch him, and his father had a wide smile, hands firmly on Jimin’s sides to keep him steady. The woman—his grandmother; he was sure, now—put her hand to her mouth. “/Oh, Jimin. It really is you./” She stood up, reaching for him, and even though Jimin still didn’t remember her, and had no way of knowing whether she had been a kind or a mean grandmother, he listened to his instincts and got to his feet as well. When he leaned down to let her wrap her thin arms around him, there was a scent that hit him, somehow familiar and so sudden that he couldn’t control the sobs which broke free. He held onto her tightly, but carefully, not wanting to hurt her with his strength. “/Halmeoni,/” he cried, feeling the truth in his words. He couldn’t believe it. Not only did he have Yoongi, and his friends, but he also had part of his real family back. He couldn’t wait to get to know his grandmother again. Yoongi rescheduled their tickets back to Seoul, and they ended up staying for dinner, sharing stories (only the good ones) and eating enough homemade food to last them until the next week. They returned to Seoul late that night with stomachs full, hearts warm, and many containers of homemade dishes to reallylast them until the next week. . . . . . . . . . .   Epilogue Part IV   No matter how much Agust D’s fans begged him to tell them the identity of his mystery singer who had a voice like an angel, Yoongi never told. But some sneaky fans noticed that the initials on the bracelet he never took off read, ‘JM,’ and they noticed him spending a lot of time with “a very beautiful man” (according to the captions attached to the pictures that were posted). Anytime photos of the man were posted to the internet, though, Big Hit managed to pull them down immediately. Yoongi had long since come out to his company, and was grateful that they had continued to support him and respect his privacy. He hadn’t even needed Namjoon to back him up like he’d thought when he had gone in to apologize to his boss Bang Shi Hyuk—he and Jimin had been caught curled up together on the sofa in his studio one night—because Bang PD-nim only smiled at him and told him he’d suspected for a while, but had been waiting for Yoongi to feel comfortable enough to tell him himself. Yoongi did get a bit of a scolding for not being more careful, since he’d been obviously trying to keep it a secret, and then he was given a simple warning to be mindful of the fans or sasaengs who might disapprove and try to cause harm to him. He told Yoongi it was his choice whether to keep it a secret or not, but he advised against bringing too much attention to himself. Luckily Yoongi had agreed, since his main goal was to keep Jimin safe and out of the spotlight. Finally, though, Yoongi thought it was time. After a long talk with Jimin to get his approval, Agust D sat down to talk with his fans over a livechat. He brought Jimin in to sit beside him, wearing a simple white face mask, his currently golden blond hair lying in soft waves that framed his face nicely. The comments running along the side exploded, becoming faster and faster as more fans logged in to watch. They sat silently, just waiting for a minute or so until more viewers were connected. Jimin knew Yoongi didn’t like repeating himself. “/Hey there, ARMY,/” he greeted them with a cool smile, lapsing into his Agust D persona. “As you can see, we have a guest here with us today./” Jimin raised his hand and made a peace sign against his face, smiling but not removing the mask or saying anything. Yoongi grinned slightly at him and turned back to the camera. “/This…is JM./” The comments picked up speed again, and dozens of hearts and exclamation points sped by. “/Yes, this is the owner of that voice you all love so much./” He turned to Jimin briefly. “/Do you want to say anything, JM?/” Jimin hesitated. He started to shake his head, but then stopped. Instead, he sang two seconds of a line from one of their more recent songs. He felt himself blushing when the comments turned into excited proclamations of their undying love for him. “/Anyway,/” Yoongi continued, “/Today I have something serious to talk about with you all. Recently something has been happening a lot that makes me very uncomfortable. I know you’re all used to me spitting fire, and being rude, and being a general dick—/” Jimin couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips, and he earned an elbow to the ribs. “Shut up, you,” Yoongi retorted lightly in English, before refocusing his attention. “/But the truth of the matter is I act that way to make a point. Because I want to fight for the things I care about. For the things…and people…I love./” Jimin slowly glanced at him, letting the teasing crinkle of his eyes disappear—the only hint to the viewers that he’d been smiling. He didn’t want to see what the comments said. He wanted to watch Yoongi. “/I know some of you have picked up on this, some of you haven’t, but lately many people have been posting photographs taken outside of media events, or performances, or the studio; basically photos taken without consent. And…to be absolutely honest with you, I feel that consent is one of the most important things in this world. It’s mutual agreement, coming to a common ground, all sides not only understanding, but conceding to whatever it is you are talking about. It’s not just about sex, although most people think about that when talking about consent. It’s also about respect in general, and taking into consideration the opinions or feelings of others./” Outside of the camera frame, Jimin laced their fingers together. “/So…ultimately, I have a request for you all. I would like you to please respect the privacy of JM. I know that you all love his voice. I know that you want to see his face and share your love for him all over. But you can show your love in other ways, rather than spreading photos that will end up hurting him, since he wishes to remain out of the greater public eye./” “/And,/” Jimin said suddenly, surprising Yoongi, “/as a thank you for all of your support despite not knowing who JM’s voice belonged to, I,/” he swallowed slightly, and let go of Yoongi’s hand as he brought his hand up to his face, “/ I’d like to say a proper greeting./” He slowly lifted the straps from around his ears, and brought the mask down to rest in his lap. Ignoring the way his heart began to race, he stared into the camera and smiled brightly. He tried to not read the comments, but he caught a few anyway. Most were in Korean due to the time difference, but there were still a few English ones littered about. ‘/Holy shit, he’s fucking gorgeous up close!/’ ‘He looks like an angel!’ ‘/Agust D sure knows how to pick right!/’ ‘/He can’t be real. Seriously?!/’ “/Hi, I’m JM…I’m Agust D’s personal freelance singer,/” he couldn’t help the small smirk from curling his lips, “/and his…/” he paused, looking at Yoongi. They’d talked about this, had both agreed it was time, but he wanted to make sure that Yoongi still felt that way. He gasped slightly when he felt Yoongi’s arm snake around his waist and abruptly draw him close, practically onto his lap. “Hyung!” he exclaimed in embarrassment. The comments picked up speed. ‘/OMG THEY’RE REALLY TOGETHER???/’ ‘My ship is REAL!’ ‘/I knew I wasn’t imagining things…/’ ‘Oh MAN HOLY SHIT’ Yoongi only laughed, and ruffled Jimin’s hair, furthering his embarrassment. Even though he couldn’t deny that he loved it. “/Yes, JM and I are very much together,/” Yoongi acknowledged. “/It’s been quite a while now, since even before we both moved back to Korea. And he means more to me than anything else, so I’d like to enlist your help, ARMY. Please stop taking photos of him, and if you know any of your friends are posting photos, or if you see photos online somewhere, it would mean the world to me if you kindly deleted them, and encourage others to do the same./” Jimin put his mask back on, feeling a little more uncomfortable now that he was watching the comments again. Most were supportive, but there were still the occasional over-sexualized comments. ‘/I’d tap that./’ ‘He looks like a Baby Boy. The ‘D’ in Agust D definitely stands for ‘Daddy.’ <3 <3 <3’ ‘/JM’s fucking HOT!/’ Yoongi didn’t seem to notice, luckily. “/If I do any more livechats from home like this, you’ll probably see a little more of him, and maybe eventually he’ll feel comfortable enough to show his face more. But until then, please respect our wishes, and help me to protect the one I love./” Jimin bit his lip behind his mask. “Don’t be so cheezy, hyung,” he muttered in English, getting a little secondhand embarrassment. Yoongi looked affronted. “Why? It’s the truth.” After another hard look, Yoongi turned back to the camera and quickly finished up the livechat. They said goodbye together, and then turned off the feed. Jimin dropped his mask onto the coffee table. The moment the camera was turned off, Yoongi pulled Jimin onto his lap and began to kiss him hard. “I was so fucking nervous,” he mumbled against Jimin’s mouth. “You were nervous?” Jimin retorted, groaning slightly as Yoongi’s hand dipped into his jeans after unbuttoning them. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” “Mm.” Yoongi tilted Jimin’s head, getting better access to lick deeper into his mouth. Their tongues twisted around each other, slippery and warm. Yoongi’s hand in Jimin’s pants was unforgiving, and soon Jimin was gasping into his mouth. It was a good thing that tomorrow was laundry day, because within moments Jimin was coming into his boxers, soiling them completely. Once the high went down, he sighed in mock annoyance. “Yoongi, can’t you wait until after I get my pants off to do that? This is so gross.” “I like you gross,” was the retort he got in return, accompanied by a tweak to his nose. “God. So immature. I don’t know why I let you boss me around like this.” “Because you love me…and you boss me around plenty.” “Well…that is true.” “Which part?” “Ohhh, the second part, of course!” “Jimin!” “Okay, okay.” “Well? Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Jimin stuck his tongue out. “…You know.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and pinched him slightly. “I know.”       Meanwhile, Agust D’s fans were already working together to help make sure his request was respected. Yoongi and Jimin wouldn’t find out until the next day, though. “Wow. ARMY really is the best,” Jimin said, mouth open and amazed. “Yeah,” Yoongi smiled. “They really are.” . . . . . . . . . .       The End. Chapter End Notes Thank you so much for reading! It's been a crazy journey. I've never in my entire life, written such a fleshed out, novel-length story...and managed to complete it. And can you believe...it's only been four months since the beginning? Wow. Side note: I was one of those kids who almost never got to see their grandparents after moving very far away at the age of five. Years would pass between visits, and yet each time, somehow when we met again, I could remember the scent that belonged to my grandmother, or to my other grandparents, although they died when I was still young. So I could definitely imagine Jimin's sensory memory kicking in, triggered by his grandmother's scent. Also...I considered giving Jimin a brother (Jihyun)……but it really wouldn’t have made sense why he’d have been left behind in Korea. And Jimin would have seen him in at least some of the pictures when he was four. I really wanted to write the line, “Just wait until your brother hears about this!” “My WHAT? I have a brother?!” hahahahahahaha but I resisted for the dignity of the story. I'm going to miss this story so much. I plan to go back and edit it a bit (there are typos and minor plot holes here and there), so if someday you decide to come back and revisit this story, perhaps it will have a few (tiny) changes. Nothing significant, I promise. Also, since I have grown far, far too close to the 'Break Away' universe Yoongi and Jimin, I will probably post one-shots occasionally. I'm not really sure whether I'll link them with that "part of a series" tag, or if I'll just include a link to this at the beginning for new readers, but you can definitely look forward to that. Again, thank you so much for all of your support! I couldn't have finished this story without all of you keeping me motivated along the way! Please don't forget to comment! I'd love to read your emotional reactions! ;) Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!