Chapter Text
It’s a strange feeling, standing there, like the world was slowing down. Rays of sun split through painted glass behind the altar, illuminating tiny particles of dust to dance in a slow motion around white flower arrangements. Jimin hated those flowers. Maybe the world kept going normally, only it was Jimin who was frozen in a haze; heart pounding in his ears and breath coming out as loud as if someone had put a microphone on his fine dress shirt.
Thank god he’d refused the fucking microphones. He’s hyper aware of the priest and probably half the venue scrutinizing him anyway, like any moment something might break. The other half is watching Seokjin argue loudly with Yoongi far down the aisle.
A laugh escapes Jimin then, or more like a huff. A spring wedding. He’d never wanted that. He didn’t even want to get married in a church, let alone a big one. Somehow he still happened to have two toastmasters.
Jimin wasn’t rich. He was a perfectly normal employee with a job he didn’t hate but would never make him rich. Seojun on the other hand had a nice job at an up and coming music label and money to spare. Seojun had wanted the expensive suits, the grand flowers and the big venue. ”If we’re going to do it, it might as well be lavish,” he’d said one night during their months of planning, maybe after one too many glasses of wine. He was like that sometimes, like he tried to make things seem better than they were. ”We’re only going to do it once.” Well, yes, Jimin had thought. It seemed reasonable at the time, but something had churned the wrong way in his stomach.
He hated white flowers. It reminded him of funerals. And he fucking hated white suits. It looked stupid and way too stick-up-your-ass. He wanted something stylish but comfortable, interesting even, not the usual. Not stiff. Not a tight fucking tie or a sweaty silk lined slim-fit suit in the same color as their cake frosting. Seojun knew that. Even the black boring suits their groomsmen wear would be ten times more preferable. Jimin should have known the moment Seojun didn’t agree, didn’t even accommodate one bit to what Jimin wanted.
He should have known.
He should have known when Seojun let him plan the after party but not the reception. He should have known when Seojun cancelled the blueberry tarts Jimin had ordered and replaced them with a three tier vanilla cake. ”It’s more appropriate for so many guests, Jimin. How are we going to cut a tart together?” With a fucking knife, like every other cake.
Jimin should have known something was off. But he’d been so happy; about the engagement, being proposed to, the planning, the whole getting married part, that he’d told himself if it was all okay. It had made him feel loved and taken care of. The weird feeling was just nerves. It was the stress of organising a wedding. The unknown future. The strange part was how involved Seojun had been only to end up like this.
”Jimin,” someone whispers close to his ear. Jimin jerks when they touch his shoulder. The world pivots back to a normal time frame; the crowds confused looks while turning in their seats, the strange silence. It’s only Seokjin with his gentle hands and warm words that grounds Jimin back to Earth, but the look in his eyes confirms that this day is about to take hell of a turn.
”He’s not… We can’t—” Even Seokjin, with his usual composed self, doesn’t know how to say it. Not that Jimin needs him to. He already knows. ”Seojun is gone.”
”Gone,” Jimin echoes. Seokjin mistakes it for a question, although it’s merely a statement. A confirmation of his thoughts.
”Geonu and Yoongi have been calling him all morning. He’s not at the hotel, not at home. He hasn’t been picking up his phone. Well, not until now at least. We thought he might just need a moment to himself, you know, nerves or whatever, so we let him be but… The ceremony should have started five minutes ago.” Seokjin sighs. Jimin steels himself, prepares to actually hear it, those surreal words after months of preparations and planning. After five years together.
”He’s not coming, Jimin.”
He expected something to shatter, brittle sharp things splinting in the air. Confetti. A joke? But it doesn’t come. Nothing happens except for the rising noise of voices and Jimin's rapid breathing.
But he doesn’t break, instead he snorts out a laugh. It’s such a bizarre situation. How does one prepare themselves for something like this? You don’t. The priest frowns. Seokjin watches him like he’s losing his mind. Maybe he is. Jimin promptly stops laughing while carding a hand though his hair. Somewhere down the aisle he notices Yoongi throwing him a concerned look.
”I— I don’t know what to say. What do I do now, hyung?” Even if he doesn't break, Jimin’s voice is weak. Is he panicking? He might be panicking.
”You don’t have to say anything,” Seokjin murmurs. He takes Jimin’s arm and begins guiding him down the aisle, away from the crowd, out from the grand nave towards a small room in the chapel to the side.
Jimin can hear the priest mutter something to Seokjin. Jimin’s mother stands up and calls his name, then begins to shout at Namjoon. Poor Namjoon. He happened to be one of Seojun’s groomsmen and stood closest in the line of fire. Jimin doesn’t really listen further. He walks in a haze. Thoughts swirling.
On their way out they pass Yoongi and Geonu, and maybe Jimin didn’t feel anything until then. Geonu looks sorry. It’s Seojun’s little brother. He’s a sweet kid, only twenty two. Kind and intuitive, nothing like his brother. Jimin nearly smiles in reassurance, just to tell him it would all be fine. It was fine, it would be fine. But for some reason, it’s the torn look that Yoongi gives him that suddenly makes Jimin want to cry.
A lump forms in his throat so quickly he might choke. Shame creeps up his spine. Why had he been so blind? Hadn’t Yoongi been the one to tell him that? He of all people. Jimin is so embarrassed he nearly hates himself.
”Take care of this for a minute, will you? We need to call it off,” Seokjin hisses to Yoongi, Seojun’s best man and one of their two toastmasters. Min Yoongi, who Jimin had always only known in the pass-by as Seojun’s friend, from pictures and stories, as a side character at outings and events. He looks at Jimin like he wants to say something but holds himself back with everything he has.
Jimin tears his eyes away, too ashamed. Seokjin whispers something to Yoongi that Jimin can’t nor cares to hear until Yoongi nods and stalks towards the altar.
They had a weird friendship, Seojun and Yoongi. They had known each other since childhood and still worked at the same company, but to Jimin it had always seemed strained, like something rubbed the wrong way. Yoongi was cocky and, to be honest, a bit conceited, but the most reliable and responsible person Jimin had ever met. Except maybe for Seokjin. Nothing like Seojun at least. Seojun was sweet and caring when he wanted to but not careful, and not thoughtful. His care was fleeting, like one had to earn it. There was a fine line between caring and thoughtful, Jimin had realised. He’d been reflecting on it for quite some time now, but never really grasped the difference.
Memories of situations that made him feel queasy flash through his head, unbidden thoughts of all those times he’d compared Seojun to other people. Times when he’d wondered how their relationship could have been if Seojun had acted differently or if Jimin had been with someone else and then shamed himself for even thinking like that. He hadn’t wanted to think like that and told himself they just needed to work things out. But now… right now in this situation, his mind fills to the brim with what if’s and regret.
”Fuck.” Jimin stumbles into the room they used for coats, shoe change and last minute touch ups. Maybe a drink would make things less confusing. And this fucking suit. Jimin yanks the tie loose and throws it on the floor, next goes the suit jacket. The sleeves turn inside out in his haste to get it off. He wants to spit on it too but holds himself back.
”Where’s my phone?”
”Jimin, we need to talk,” Seokjin closes the door behind them. He creeps closer to Jimin like he’s some kind of animal that might be spooked by sudden movements.
Jimin isn’t even about to refuse. Sure they can talk, they can talk about how much of an idiot he’s been, what a fucking coward Seojun is, what the hell he should do now. Most of all he wants his goddamn phone so he can call Seojun and ask where he is. But before they can talk about anything, Namjoon and Taehyung burst in through the door at the same time.
”What the fuck is going on?” Taehyung demands. He beats Namjoon to it and somehow squeezes through the door first.
Jimin manages to locate his phone in Seokjin’s coat pocket and begins to frantically call his fiance. Behind him, the other groomsmen poke their heads in one by one. Jungkook and Hoseok look like wounded animals. Or more like; Jimin is the puppy that someone kicked in the stomach and tried to drown. Namely their friend and Jimin’s fiance. Well, ex fiance, he supposed.
”Yoongi hyung just waltzed out there, told everyone the wedding is off!?” Taehyung stalks across the room, dress shoes clicking against wooden floors, and descends on Jimin like a mother bird. Jimin stares into the void while the call signal seems to go on endlessly. Hoseok hovers beside them with a frown and Jungkook goes to stand next to Namjoon and Geonu.
”How’s it going out there?” Namjoon asks Jungkook. He shrugs. ”The guests are clearing out. Yoongi is handling it.”
Jimin has slumped down on a stool next to a table filled with make up, suddenly too weary to even stand. Seojun doesn’t pick up. Jimin sends him several texts even if he already knows he won’t get a reply.
”I think it’ll take that,” Seokjin says and gently probes the phone out of Jimin’s hands. Taehyung crouches beside him, enveloping him in a hug. ”I’m gonna kill him, Jimin. Don’t you worry. I’m gonna rip him a new—”
”Tae,” Hoseok groans.
I’m fine, Jimin tries to say but it dies in his throat.
”I can’t fucking believe it,” Namjoon shakes his head.
”Well, I do,” Seokjin adds acidly. ”Seojun is a cowardly piece of shit who didn’t dare to call it off in time and now got cold feet and has decided not to show up last fucking minute. Honestly, I’m not surprised.”
”Did you know about this?” Taehyung sends a sharp glare towards Namjoon and Jungkook. Jimin breathes erratically into his hands.
”Of course not,” Namjoon frowns. ”None of us did.”
Jimin knows he refers to Seojun’s groomsmen; Namjoon, Jungkook and Geonu, his closest friends and family, who for some reason are still at the venue with Jimin and not wherever Seojun is holding up. And of course; Yoongi, who’s somewhere outside doing damage control. Maybe it was to lessen the damage for their friend, to ease it out or something, make it look slightly less bad.
”You should have seen Yoongi this morning,” Jungkook says eerily. ”I’ve never seen him like that.”
Like what? A small thought in the back of Jimin’s mind wonders.
”I just don’t get it,” Geonu winces. ”It’s so fucking late. It makes no sense. I mean he was fine yesterday. Why do all these preparations then? All the money…”
”Who knows what goes on in the head of a loser,” Seokjin drawls. Jimin snorts into his hands. Somehow he has come to sit with his face in his palms. Geonu has a point though. Why bother? Everything feels surreal. Everything they had done, all they had worked for, just to throw it all away.
”Jimin?” Taehyung gently tugs at his fingers. He leans back and looks Jimin in the eyes.
”I’m fine. Will you all calm the fuck down,” Jimin bites out. He straightens, tries to get a bit more space. The lump in his throat has dissipated slightly. The acute shame of being left behind has morphed into anger. He is, in fact, so angry he contemplates breaking something.
Then he gets anxious.
”Is he alright? Has someone talked to him?” Sudden regret makes Jimin’s stomach flip violently, mixing with that constant state of worry.
What if something had happened? What if Seojun was faring a lot worse than he let on. Had it been a mental health thing? Jimin had noticed a lot of things but not that. Wasn’t it somehow Jimin’s fault then if something happened to Seojun? Shouldn’t he be the one to have seen how bad Seojun had been feeling and ended it for them? Should he have been the one to call it all off for both their sake? To spare Seojun feeling worse? Why did they keep going? Why did Seojun never say something—
”Don’t you dare,” Seokjin snaps. He points a stern finger at Jimin whose head jerks up. ”Don’t you dare blame yourself. More people than you are involved in planning this damn wedding. Yoongi finally spoke to him on the phone just before I told you he wasn’t coming. Seojun is fine and about four hours away from here, all on his own accord.”
Oh, so that was the look he was giving. He knew. Of course he knew. Yoongi had known before even Jimin knew. Probably before either of them knew, maybe even before Seojun knew too. He had that weird seventh sense about people.
Jimin nods and draws a deep breath.
”Will you leave us alone for a moment?” Jimin turns to Geonu and Seojun’s other groomsmen. It’s not with malice or anything. He believes them when they say they didn’t know. He just needs to be alone with his own friends for a moment. To think. To breathe.
”Just… just a minute.”
”Of course,” Namjoon says and Geonu nods so vigorously it must hurt his neck. They leave together with Jungkook to help Yoongi outside. Jimin can only imagine the scene his mother must be causing at the moment. He wonders how Yeongmi is doing, Seojun’s mother.
”Help me out of this damn thing.” Tears stings in his eyes as he struggles with the buttons of his dress shirt.
Fucking tears. Fucking Seojun. He can’t bear another second in the suit he didn’t even want to get married in, let alone to get dumped in. He’d rather go naked. Fortunately Seokjin is as organised as a well paid wedding planner and has brought Jimin’s reception clothes all the way to the wedding venue even if he was to change at the hotel. Jimin could kiss him. At least he’d chosen his own clothes for the reception. At least he’d planned the after party like he wanted it. Too bad it was going to waste.
It’s a huge relief to wear the smooth fabric of the sheer white shirt he’d gotten for himself, with pearl buttons, pressed details and long wide sleeves. Together with loose pants that somehow still manage to hug his waist and are most definitely not white, he feels a fraction better than before. Still, all for someone who doesn’t deserve it.
Jimin nearly laughs again, or cries. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what to do next. Go home? Go home to where? His shared apartment with a fucking coward? No thanks. He’d rather stay alone in their wedding suite at the fancy city hotel. It’s already paid for anyway, along with rooms for all their closest friends and family.
”So,” he croaks, looking at his friends in the mirror hung on the wall. He looks miserable. Kind of pretty in his own clothes, he must admit, but there's something missing in his eyes, something that probably died the moment he realised Seojun wouldn’t show up. Perhaps earlier than that.
”What the hell do I do now?” Jimin’s voice comes out lower than he’d intended, unsure. Lost.
”Well, only you can decide that,” Seokjin says carefully as he folds Jimin’s discarded wedding suit. ”You could go home, go to bed, cry yourself to sleep and move on with your life tomorrow… But if it was me, I’d get wasted on all the alcohol I already paid for and throw a fat ass party with my friends, celebrating dodging a huge bullet within a hair's edge."
A wet laugh escapes Jimin. He turns around, hurt like something has ripped his chest open. ”I can do that?”
”Honestly, that’s the most reasonable thing to do right now,” Taehyung agrees. ”You need a drink, pronto. And it would be an awful waste not to use that cute villa you booked for the after party.”
”I sure need a drink," Jimin mumbles. He’d needed a drink since the moment he woke up, but for different reasons. Seokjin had held him off the alcohol save a glass of champagne at their breakfast. Jimin should have known already then, when Seojun didn’t even answer his texts about not being able to see each other before the ceremony.
He should have known.
Jimin’s lower lips trembles despite his effort to keep it still. ”It’s still your day, Jimin,” Hoseok says. ”Make the most out of it.”
Jimin grimaces in what could be a smile but probably comes out more like a mad grin. ”Alright, let’s go then. Let’s drink. Let’s eat all the damn food. Everyone is invited. Bring the fucking priest and the catering staff too, I don’t care.”
”Wonderful,” Seokjin beams, ”Because I already told Yoongi to send everyone to the venue.”
”You did what?” Jimin chokes, but the door to the room opens right then and Min Yoongi of all people leans against the doorframe.
”How are we feeling?” His gaze lingers on Jimin in his new outfit. Maybe in surprise, or something else.
It might as well have been Jimin’s wild imagination. Because Yoongi is like himself, aloof and blunt like usual. Arms crossed over a crisp shirt, tie slightly undone, hair falling over his brows like he had a rough time out there with all the guests and haven’t had a hair cut in far too long. One side of his mouth is tilted up like something is funny and sad at the same time. Maybe it is. For whatever reasons it’s weirdly reassuring and grounding seeing him like that. Normal. Like the world didn’t tilt on its axis or collapsed around them just because it felt so for Jimin.
”Like fucking shit, Yoongi, can’t you tell?” Taehyung snaps.
But Jimin isn’t tearing up and cracking behind his shell because Yoongi is being ignorant. Because he isn’t. He looks Jimin in the eyes and whatever it is there tells Jimin he’s asking about what Jimin wants to do now, not how he’s feeling about being left at the fucking altar at his own wedding.
Nobody understands. Not even Taehyung, Hoseok and Seokjin when Jimin finally starts sobbing uncontrollably. Ugly fat tears roll down his cheeks and he has trouble even heaving a breath. Not even Jimin understands as he irritably tries to gather himself, impossibly embarrassed, with Taehyung murmuring stuff like everything will be fine, that it’s okay to feel hurt. He doesn’t understand anything except Yoongi is still there and not somewhere with Seojun.
”Your chariot awaits…” Yoongi’s eyes are warm as he shows them the way out. Seokjin dries Jimin’s tears with a napkin and Hoseok pats his back. He doesn’t say it, but Jimin has the strange feeling Yoongi nearly said something more, like when you cut off a sentence a bit awkwardly.
He’d done it once before. Only once, a long time ago. Years ago. It was a christmas party or some kind of work thing at their office that Seojun made Jimin join. Yoongi had been there, probably one of the first times they actually met in person and not just a nod in a hallway or seen in a social media post. Then, at the party, maybe they’d had a bit too much to drink. He’d said it. He’d laughed at something Jimin tried to explain.
”Figures you’d be a darling.”
It was nothing, yet Jimin had bloomed with warmth from his toes to his forehead. He was sure it was the alcohol and quickly excused himself. Yet the memory had etched itself deep into his mind.
”What the fuck,” Jimin laughs as they exit the lavish church. It was too big for him and his problems. Too big for Seojun and his stupid ugly taste in decor. But the sight outside makes Jimin chuckle.
”Figured you didn’t want to go anywhere in that.”
Yoongi points at the fancy car Seojun had borrowed for their trip from the church to the reception. It’s so over the top, green of all fucking colors, with flowers arranged to the rearview mirrors which had Jimin’s skin crawling long before the wedding turned out to be a complete disaster. Maybe Yoongi thought so too. It had also had a banderole saying Just Married, but it was nowhere to be found now. Thankfully. Instead Jimin is standing in front of a sleek black motorcycle.
”Is this a joke?”
”No,” Seokjin snorts. ”Have a go.”
”Are you insane? I can’t fucking drive that thing.”
”Not driving it, Christ. Yoongi?”
Jimin pivots around, staring at his ex fiance's best man like he’s never seen him before. ”You can go with me, if you want,” Yoongi shrugs. ”Might be fun. Cathartic or something.”
”Is it yours?”
”Yeah.”
Seojun had never told him that. Jimin didn’t think he’d ever even seen Yoongi on a bike on social media. It’s like a little itch then, something tickles Jimin’s insides. It feels funny, weird, sad and fucking stupid. But mostly funny. ”Okay,” he says, wondering if he’s losing his mind. ”Why the hell not?”
”He’ll need a jacket and a helmet,” Seokjin supplies sternly. No need for a gruesome end on this fine day.
”He can have my jacket. I have one in the car,” Taehyung pipes up.
”It will be too big,” Jimin argues.
”Here.” Jimin turns to see Yoongi pull out a leather jacket from a compartment somewhere, maybe about to put it on himself on top of his suit. Instead, he walks over and drapes it around Jimin’s shoulders.
”Oh.” It’s all Jimin can muster. They are more similar in size than he and Taehyung, but Yoongi is probably broader over the shoulders because the jacket envelopes Jimin like a heavy leather cape. He doesn’t hate it though. It feels secure, safe like a second thick skin as he pulls his arms through the sleeves.
”Thanks, Tae,” Yoongi smiles as he borrows a thick woven jacket from Taehyung.
”Yah,” Taehyung scoffs. They’re not on nickname basis, probably not even on casual speech basis. Yoongi doesn’t seem to care and mounts the motorcycle with practiced ease. Jimin feels awkward as he stands there, not sure what to do next. Seokjin zips the jacket up to his chin, just to be safe, and urges him forward.
”We’ll be right behind you in the cars.”
”Come,” Yoongi motions for Jimin to stand in front of him. He has put on a helmet and only his eyes are visible through the open visor. Kind of handsome, Jimin thinks. That’s a fucked up thought to have in this moment. Jimin’s spine goes rigid as Yoongi pushes a heavy helmet down over his head and buckles it under the chin.
”Ready?” Yoongi’s eyes crinkle in the corners, just like that curious little smile that made Jimin want to know what he was thinking about.
Jimin swallows thickly. ”I don’t think I’m ready for anything at the moment except for getting royally drunk."
”Well, we'll get there soon.”
Yoongi nods for Jimin to jump on the bike behind him. He feels like a fucking toddler when Yoongi tells him where to put his feet and where not to. Seokjin waves merrily as all Jimin’s friends and his ex fiance's groomsmen gather in their cars. Then Yoongi tells him to hold on tight.
”Don’t want you to fall off.”
”I’m not sure about this.” Jimin discards any thought of embarrassment and quickly snakes his arms around Yoongi’s waist as the monster beneath them begins to rumble. ”I’ll be perfectly honest, I’m shit scared.”
”Trust me,” Yoongi says as they begin rolling out from the yard in front of the chapel. Then he seems to stiffen. ”Probably not the words you want to hear from a guy right now, hm? But it will be fine, Jimin. I can’t promise anything that’s out of my hands but I sincerely believe it.”
Somehow Jimin wonders if Yoongi is merely referring to the ride or the whole ordeal of a ruined wedding. He doesn’t know and he decides he doesn’t need to know. All he needs to do is hold on tightly to Yoongi so he doesn’t fall off, and he has to remember how to breathe. Right. Breathing is good.
After the initial shock of going really fucking fast has died down, Jimin allows himself to enjoy it. Why not? Nobody will know but them so who cares. He can laugh, he can cry under the helmet until it’s damp from his snot and tears, he can rest his head against Yoongi’s back and hold on to him with everything he has for a few minutes. Who was going to blame him? It feels good, freeing, the rush of wind blasting by and the thrill of zig-zagging between cars along a highway and over the bridge crossing the river. Probably not wholly legal. Jimin can only imagine Taehyung screaming his head off in Namjoon’s car far, far behind them.
Jimin is honestly not sure if he cries from sadness or laughter, but as his hysteria eventually turns into giggles he feels the pleasant jump in Yoongi’s stomach as he probably laughs too.
~~~
They come to a stop outside the villa Jimin has booked for the afterparty. Not the reception. Good Lord, he loved Seokjin. He would have hated being in the stupid venue Seojun had arranged for the reception.
The villa is fairly new and clearly made to host parties. It’s located close to the river, up on a hill with its own private garden. Seojun hadn’t agreed to anything less, but it’s still much more relaxed than a fucking dinner.
Yoongi took a little extra turn before going up the hill, so Jimin could gather himself and their groomsmen had time to arrive at the same time. Jimin is grateful, he didn’t want to be alone. Yoongi was with him but, frankly, he didn’t know him very well. He’s happy to see Hoseok slamming the door to his car and Taehyung rushing over to greet them. He appreciates having them all there even more when he realises the whole wedding reception is waiting in the front yard.
”Deep breath,” Yoongi murmurs. Jimin is fairly sure he says that at least, as his helmet is pulled off his head at the same time.
Seokjin helps him get off the motorcycle and Jimin has the faint feeling of Yoongi quietly disappearing into the shadows, probably only to park his bike, but still. It suddenly felt colder standing there on the road with lots of people anticipating to see his broken self than sitting on a rushing bike behind Yoongi.
It feels slightly less daunting though, as they enter the garden and people greet him with nothing but love and understanding. Maybe Jimin had feared they would think him an idiot for not noticing anything earlier, for not calling it off sooner. How could he have been so blind? But they don’t. They don’t take Seojun’s side either. They cheer and wave and look a bit teary as Jimin steps into the garden in his pearly white shirt and red brimmed eyes. Nobody says a damn thing except pats him on the back, gives him a hug and tells him Seojun is a coward.
Well, that he agreed with. A drink is shoved into Jimin’s hand by an enthusiastic Taehyung. Jimin throws it back before checking what it is. ”Jesus, what the fuck was that?” Jimin grits his teeth as Taehyung laughs. ”Pure vodka, good for the nerves.” Jimin’s head reels, but mostly it actually does as told.
”Jimin-ah!” His mother materialises, heels sinking in the grass. It looks funny and sweet. ”Oh, honey, you look gorgeous, absolutely beautiful,” her eyes brim with tears. ”But why the hell were you on a bike!? Who was that driving?” Jimin laughs a little, contemplating how to explain he just rode a motorcycle with Seojun’s best man away from his own ruined wedding. ”Are you okay, honey? They didn’t let me see you!”
”As good as I can be,” Jimin says as he accepts her embrace. She smells of Chanel and hairspray. Familiar like coming home. It was his mother after all. She was a lot, but she loved him fiercely.
”I knew it, I knew it all along. I told you,” Park Aeri mutters, but Jimin doubted she actually did. She had liked Seojun just like he had. She meant well though and somewhere through her rant she has the mercy to be sorry for him. ”It’s not your fault, honey. He’s garbage anyway. Who does something so low? I thought Yeongmi might die of shame.”
Jimin frowns. ”How is she?”
”Well, she’s fine but I believe she has a thing or two to tell her son whenever she has the chance.” Aeri wrinkles her nose.
”She’s not here, is she?” Jimin is now more perplexed than sad.
”Of course she is, Sangcheol too. I can’t imagine they will stay long but they want to formally apologize to you before they leave.”
Seojun’s parents had stayed. Jimin is so shocked he doesn’t know what to say. Even more surprising is how many people have shown up to the party. It’s not everyone, far off everyone from Seojun’s side has stayed. But everyone from Jimin’s friends and family, and all of their groomsmen, even Seojun’s.
”I don’t know what to say,” Jimin croaks for the hundredth time. Seojun’s parents greet Jimin with a formal apology. They even bow. It’s so stiff he feels like he’d rather die than look them in the eyes. But he is also quite touched that they chose to stay and not run after their missing son. They had known each other for the better part of five years, after all.
After a lot of greetings and hugs and condolences in the garden, they make their way inside. Music thump softly, another drink is shoved into Jimin’s hands which he sips on gratefully but slightly less rushed. The room is filled with couches, low and high tables with white tablecloths to sit and stand around. Cute wild flowers in small vases, nothing fancy. Jimin liked that and Seojun would probably have thrown a fit.
The light is dim and it feels homey in a weird way, but more like a private club. There’s a bar that Hoseok has helped arrange with people from his work. Huge windowed doors open up to the gardens, dressed in bobbing lanterns. Food has been brought from the venue they were supposed to have dinner in and is now being shared more comfortably.
”You don’t have to say anything, Jimin,” Taehyung sighs. They’re sitting on the big sofa in the middle of the room. Hoseok has an arm on the back of the coach behind Jimin. Seokjin is seated in an armchair, nursing a bowl-like glass of wine. For some reason, Jungkook and Geonu are there too. ”Tonight, we’ll just have fun. Tomorrow, we can figure out what to do next. Okay?”
”I guess. Yeah,” Jimin agrees. He tries to fight the bad feelings with the more confused ones. Those fueled by a bit of alcohol. Where was Seojun now? Why hadn’t he explained anything? Did he expect Jimin to just move on with his life tomorrow like nothing? Did he move on just like that himself? Had he already moved on months ago, just not dared to tell Jimin? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. So Jimin was aiming to have fun tonight, because he already knew tomorrow would be fucking terrible. It was his wedding party, after all.
Jimin snorts into his glass.
”What’s so funny?” Seokjin asks.
”Nothing,” Jimin shakes his head. ”Just, it’s my damn wedding.”
”It sure is,” Namjoon replies somewhere beside Jimin.
He and Yoongi are walking over to join them. As Jimin had been going rounds to talk to all his guests during the past hour or two, he had watched them out of the corner of his eye, moving about the venue like two guard dogs keeping watch. Jimin had the funny feeling they were still doing their job as groomsmen and toastmaster even though there was no wedding to keep track of, no schedule, no goal except to consume all the food and alcohol already bought. Maybe they felt guilty for what Seojun had done and tried to weigh up for it somehow. It was silly, but it still made warmth bloom in Jimin’s chest.
”Why don’t you have a dance, Jimin?” Namjoon winks. ”You’ve been social enough. Time to let loose. I heard it’s what the bride or groom does best late at night.”
”Well, I’m neither a bride nor a groom any longer so no need to dance. Plus, I’m not sober enough to not embarrass myself further than I already have.”
”Nonsense. Have a fucking shot, Jimin, and we’ll dance with you,” Taehyung says and jumps up. Maybe something Namjoon said gave him the fuel.
Under mild protest Jimin is dragged towards a makeshift dance floor which is quickly cleared from tables and chairs. He is also brought an unholy amount of cocktails. Namjoon of all people is the knight of honor who asks him to dance properly, a joke of a first dance, before Jimin’s laughter and their pathetic swaying turns into another song and a full dance floor. It felt good though; being led around and stepping on someone’s toes who didn’t care. Seojun would have nagged him to death. Instead Jimin laughs so hard he doubles over when Taehyung swings Jungkook in a waltz and their drinks spill onto their shirts as they giggle.
They dance and sing along to the music, screaming more like, at some parts. Sometimes you just needed to scream along to your favourite song. There’s something missing though. It’s not Seojun, as it probably should be. No, that's a different hole in his chest, temporarily closed off. This was something else. Something new.
Jimin is hyper aware of Yoongi coming to stand by the dance floor, leaning against the wall while watching. Jimin has the strange urge to make him laugh, to make him talk, to get his attention, like a fucking lovesick kid. Jimin is drunk and has a bundle of confusing feelings to sort through, but he couldn’t possibly be feeling something like that. It must be something else; alcohol, the urge to forget or just to have some fun.
Yeah. That was it.
Jimin smiles and reaches out his hand, beaconing Yoongi to join them. To his joy Yoongi smiles back, that tricky thing that made it feel like some type of victory.
Yoongi doesn’t join them on the dancefloor but he takes Jimin’s hand and guides him under his arm in a spin.
”I don’t really dance,” he says as Jimin ends up right against his chest. It must be illegal to be that effortlessly handsome. Jimin smiles to himself when Yoongi speaks close to his ear to be heard over the music. ”But if you want some air I’d love a stroll.”
Faint alarm bells goes off in Jimin’s head. It probably looks strange, the two of them standing like this. Of all people. But does it really matter? It was nice to be the focus of someone’s attention, for once.
Yoongi’s hand rests on Jimin’s lower back as he nods and follows him along, reveling in the thought that, for whatever reason, Yoongi wanted to talk to him. They walk towards where the bar is, and the open doors to the garden, where fresh air whiffs into the hot room. Jimin catches Seokjin’s eyes burning on his back and promptly ignores it. He was just having fun, at his own damned ruined wedding, as the most single person one could possibly be.
”You want something?” Yoongi asks and grabs two bottles of beer from the bar before Jimin can reply. He’s thirsty after all the dancing and nods anyway.
The garden is empty save for a cacophony of singing cicadas. White lanterns bob between the trees like ghosts. There weren't many guests left now, mostly Jimin’s closest friends and, for whatever reason, Seojun’s groomsmen.
”Why are you still here?” It’s out of his mouth before he knows it. Yoongi hands him an opened bottle and takes a swig from one himself. ”Or at all, I mean. Seojun is not here. You had no obligation to stay.”
A tight feeling sneaks into Jimin’s throat.
Yoongi scoffs. ”Because Seojun is a fucking dick and you deserve the company.”
”Really?” Jimin arches a brow.
”Really,” Yoongi replies. ”I’m sorry, Jimin. I swear, we didn’t know.”
”I don’t think you did, at least not until you talked to him.” Jimin peels at the sticker on the bottle. The garden is big but not huge so they walk slowly along the edge of Hydrangea bushes and Red Pine trees. The air is slightly chilly in the late spring night.
”Not after all you have done today. I can’t imagine you all staying with me if you didn’t think what he did was wrong.” Jimin swallows thickly, a bit emotional. ”It’s frankly embarrassing the whole thing, but please know I’m grateful.”
”Don’t be,” Yoongi says, ”embarrassed, I mean. It’s nothing you could have done differently."
”Couldn’t I?” Jimin smiles crookedly and gives Yoongi a glance. He thinks of the time Yoongi had been the one to tell him to see things clearly. This man that he barely even knew. ”You told me so yourself, once.”
”Hm?” Yoongi frowns with the bottle halfway to his mouth.
”Yeah,” Jimin sighs. ”Can’t remember when. I think it was at the office, I was waiting for Seojun to finish something.” As always. Always waiting like a puppy in his heels. Yoongi stood in the doorway to his studio, across the corridor to Seojun’s, slippers on and deep sleep-deprived circles under his eyes. Earrings dangling against his cheek.
Don’t be blind, Jimin.
Why had he said that then?
”Oh, right.” Yoongi mutters, maybe he’d forgotten. He’s quiet for a while, thinking. ”Do you remember when I drove you home last year?” Yoongi stops suddenly, gesturing for Jimin to sit down on the steps leading up to the villa. Jimin’s mind blanks for a good five seconds.
”No? Wait…” He sits down next to Yoongi, thinking hard about an after work party some months ago. ”Was it… The party your company had in November?”
”Something like that.” Yoongi takes a sip of his drink. ”Bet Seojun told you he brought you home in a cab.”
”He did,” Jimin frowns. ”I was nervous to meet you guys and drank too much. Your bosses made us drink even more than usual.” He remembers it though. He remembers Yoongi at the far end of the table. He remembers going home, the leather seats, the smell of a new car, maybe too new for a taxi. Seojun in the back with him. Wait. Seojun in the back with him, asleep.
”He didn’t,” Yoongi fills in gently.
Something in Jimin hurts. He’s not sure why. Not the visceral pain of being left at the altar on his wedding day. Something else. It hurts to realise he’d not be cared for, not even when he’d thought he had been. Maybe he’d never been at all, only imagined things to make his relationship feel better. What the fuck?
”I’m sorry,” Jimin says in a cracked voice. Yoongi looks quite shocked. ”It is, again, embarrassing. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”
”That’s not why I said that, Jimin.” He looks up at the abrupt use of his name. It felt real somehow. Nice on the tip of this person's tongue. ”I wanted to tell you, after that night I couldn’t imagine that you could have ever done anything different. You’re too kind. You always did your best and you didn’t get enough in return. A relationship is a two way street, not one sided. Frankly, how Jun treated you was unfair and disgusting.”
Jimin sits shell-shocked. He had no idea Min Yoongi of all people knew so much about his and Seojunn’s relationship, nor noticed the details. Of course, Yoongi had always been there. He was one of Seojun’s oldest friends, they talked. Jimin knew they did, even Seojun had told him things about Yoongi. But they had always had this strange relationship, Seojun and Yoongi. Strained. Near but within an arms length distance. Jimin had imagined it was because Yoongi was like he was, a bit aloof and conceited. But was he really? Or was it the other way around?
”I had no idea you knew so much about my nonexistent marriage,” Jimin drawls. ”My relationship, I mean.”
Yoongi snorts softly. ”It was hard not to notice.”
”How come?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer immediately. He glances at Jimin, arms resting on his knees. A strand of hair falls over his eyes and he’s thrown his suit jacket away long ago. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Jimin has the acute urge to touch his bicep, but he definitely doesn’t. Yoongi has that tricky smile again though. That damn fucking curious smile that would drive Jimin insane.
”Seojun spoke of you like a prize.”
Jimin scoffs so hard he nearly chokes on saliva. He doesn’t believe it. Not that it wasn’t something Seojun could do but more like he never would talk about Jimin. It was something he’d be secretly sad about, how it seemed like Seojun was not proud to be with him. A vain thought, he’d believed at the moment, and tried to quell it.
”It was weird as fuck,” Yoongi adds. ”Sometimes all he did was complain and then Namjoon or I tried to argue he should maybe talk to you or even stop seeing you before shit got too serious, then he would turn completely and speak of you like he’d caught the greatest fish in the sea.”
Jimin doesn’t know what to say. He shakes his head and takes a long swing of his beer.
”Or shot the purest stag in the forest.”
”I get it, Jesus.”
Yoongi chuckles softly. It was disturbing, yes, but Jimin gets it. It was something Seojun did, needed to make sure everyone knew when he’d done something grand. At first, Jimin had mistaken it for confidence. After a while it turned ugly. He just didn’t know he’d been talking about him.
”I’m so fucking blind.” Jimin’s throat closes up dramatically. He tilts his head towards the moon and fights sudden tears growing like a tide behind his eyes, always there.
”No, you’re not,” Yoongi says. ”You’re kind and want to see the best in things. There's nothing wrong with that. It’s something seriously wrong with people who take advantage of it though.” He reaches out a hand to wipe Jimin’s cheek with his knuckles, and Jimin might just end himself in self-loathing if not from burning up on the inside.
”Shit, I was trying to cheer you up, not bring you out here to cry,” Yoongi laughs softly.
Jimin laughs too. Why, though? He’s too sweet, it’s not fair. Why was Yoongi even here? Why was he sitting with Jimin in a garden in the middle of the night when he could be literally anywhere else?
”Sorry, you didn’t really make me cry. My mind is just a mess. I actually appreciate you telling me all this. It clears things.”
”Don’t apologize, I was just joking. Of course you feel like shit.” Jimin feels Yoongi’s gaze linger on the side of his face. Warm. Jimin is quet for a while, listening to the cicadas before he dares to ask.
”What did Jun tell you when you called?” He isn’t exactly sure he wants to know, but he feels the need to ask anyway. It surprises him how fast Yoongi goes from warm to closed off.
”Not much of value, to be honest,” he mutters into his beer. A muscle in his jaw tenses. ”Only that he couldn’t do it and needed to go away for a while.”
”What did you say?” Jimin wonders.
”That he could stay wherever he went.”
Jimin can’t really believe it, wondering why Yoongi would be on his side. He’s certain Yoongi told Seojun a lot more than that but is too nice to tell him. It was a lot to unpack there though. Seojun had not only managed to ruin his and Jimin’s relationship but Jimin also realised he’d managed to ruin his friendship with Yoongi.
”But don’t you understand him in some way? You’re friends. Why would you just let him ruin your friendship like that? Didn’t he tell you something that would justify his actions?” Jimin frowns, so confused. There must be some kind of explanation Seojun had given Yoongi or Namjoon or any of his friends. Some kind of sign. Anything that made it less shocking.
”He chose to do it. I can’t say I’m surprised, but do I understand why he did like he did? No.”
”But—” Jimin tries, but Yoongi cuts him off.
”Jun and I began to grow apart years ago, Jimin. I think the final nail was when he got together with you.”
”What?” Jimin stares at Yoongi. He really doesn’t understand.
”It wasn’t because of you, more like how Jun became with you,” Yoongi explains patiently. ”We’ve been friends forever, but as we grew older something felt off. We began to grow apart, some people do that as they change and become older. But since we worked together we still hung out. It wasn’t until he got together with you that it really started to show.”
”What do you mean?” Jimin hadn’t known Seojun for longer than the five years they had been together. Of course he’d met Seojun’s friends before but he’d never really talked to Yoongi about how Seojun were when they were younger.
Yoongi takes a sip of his beer, seemingly torn about what to say, then swallows. ”Like I explained before, he was acting all weird, talking about you like he’d done something great yet all of us saw how he treated you like a second thought. He didn’t care much for others and it rubbed people the wrong way. It just happened to show even more as he got together with you.”
It made sense, he guessed. Jimin had always thought Seojun and Yoongi’s friendship was weird but he never knew what had caused it. It was weird that it had something to do with him though. He felt sorry for a friendship that was lost but also angry with how blind he’d been himself and how much he started to understand now in hindsight about his fiance.
Jimin sighs and nods in some kind of silent reply, not sure what else there was to say, then tries to drain his bottle of beer, only to find it strangely empty.
Yoongi notices. He hands Jimin his bottle and bumps his shoulder with his own. ”Have a sip, darling.”
Despite all his tears and the hollowness in his heart, warmth blooms in the pit of Jimin’s stomach. He could swear he’d said the word again, that thing. It wasn’t imagination.
~~~
”Did you miss me?” Jimin descends into Namjoon’s lap like a sack of potatoes.
Namjoon huffs out a breath but catches him well enough, looking slightly amused. They were back in the couches inside. Maybe that one beer had been the final straw for Jimin, or more like the final droplet.
”When did you two become best friends?” Seokjin sulk.
”When he asked me to dance and nobody else did.”
”I did, you treacherous piece of shit,” Taehyung argues.
”Well you only said it so you could have a reason to dance with Jungkook.”
Taehyung sputters something incoherent and Jimin grins in a hazy joy. Another joy is seeing Yoongi sitting down among his friends on the couch on the other side. ”How much did you feed him out there, hyung?” Hoseok asks pointedly.
”Just a beer,” Yoongi shrugs. Maybe two. He was mildly drunk too, Jimin could tell even if it wasn’t very noticeable. It was the faint blush to his cheeks and the way his eyes lingered on Jimin’s face in the garden.
”I’m not that drunk,” Jimin frowns. ”Besides, it’s okay. I’m allowed.”
”He is allowed,” Taehyung nods solemnly.
”I am allowed,” Jimin agrees, ”and it’s all good because Yoongi hyung will take me home.”
”He will what?” Seokjin says, eyes snapping towards Yoongi. ”He can’t drive. He doesn’t even have a fucking car.”
”And you’re not going home, definitely not alone,” Hoseok butts in. Not alone with Yoongi, Jimin’s mind provides unhelpfully. Shut the fuck up, he tells himself.
”Taxis exist. Let me live,” Jimin sighs and lets his head thump back against the armrest on Namjoon’s left. ”I’ve already been mortified once today, can’t possibly get worse.”
”Don’t say that, it might just become worse,” Namjoon chides with a smile. He’s like a mountain, Jimin thinks. Or, more like a tree. A gentle tree.
”I know, I just feel like I already reached rock bottom,” Jimin sighs.
”I think we all need some nightly snacks,” Seokjin says and rises from his seat.
”Snacks!” Chant Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok in bleary unison. Perhaps Jimin wasn’t the only one being drunk.
”Namjoon-ah?” Seokjin jerks his head toward the kitchen at the back of the villa. Namjoon arches his brow, most suspiciously, but shrugs and then rises to his feet with Jimin in his arms.
”Hey!”
”You’re back on watch duty, hyung,” Namjoon grins as he gently dumps Jimin into Yoongi’s lap. Jimin did not plan this and feels royally embarrassed again.
”I’m sorry,” he sputters and tries to get up, but a hand to his stomach stops him.
”Ow, can’t you be still for one minute?”
”I mean, I guess?” Jimin chuckles. Because there's a massive amount of room for him to sit next to Yoongi on the couch but whatever. He’s drunk and sad and wants to sit there.
Jimin sighs and relaxes against Yoongi’s chest. His head falls back to rest against his shoulder. ”Do you think they are into each other?”
His eyes flit around the room. Most of the venue is empty now save for them. Jimin is talking about Namjoon and his own most stoic friend; Kim Seokjin, who hasn’t had a proper interest in anyone in far too many years. It kind of makes him feel giddy.
”Oh, one hundred percent,” Yoongi agrees.
Jimin grins as he feels Yoongi’s stomach jump with a silent laugh. His arms hug Jimin around the middle and he’s warm and smells like perfume. Jimin is really quite comfortable there, even more so when Yoongi’s breath fan lightly over the side of his neck.
Oh, it’s different. Jimin’s whole body is buzzing. Maybe Yoongi didn’t do it on purpose. It feels nice though, but different. Because it’s not Seojun and goddamn Jimin is happy that it isn’t but it still feels like he’s doing something wrong.
Reasoning takes over his brain. Jimin clears his throat and slides to the side to sit on the couch like a normal person. He liked talking to Yoongi and their little dance around each other was fun, but that was it. This was something else. He chances a glance at Yoongi who, to his honor, looks slightly embarrassed. He wets his lips with that faint blush and, good grief, he’s pretty.
Their eyes meet and Jimin can’t help but laugh, especially when Yoongi grins too.
”What are you two giggling about?” Taehyung appears with a plate of pizza slices, slinking down into the sofa next to Jimin with a shit eating grin. ”Fraternizing with the enemy?”
”A bit rich coming from you,” Jimin snorts.
He blushes though. Jimin hasn’t gotten his head around to understand that he is majorly and abruptly single again. There must be some kind of law saying one has to be single for a while before moving on, right? He didn’t fucking know because he hadn’t been single in the past five years. He also didn’t know how it worked when you weren’t dumped normally but got left at the altar. He didn’t know how it worked when his fiance had probably thought about leaving him for months and Jimin had never known. That realisation makes the ache in his heart feel far more vivid, alcohol or not.
There’s a long time before Jimin dares to look at Yoongi again. During that time he has the opportunity to drown his sorrows in expensive champagne and pizza slices, something that Seokjin has dug up from the dredges of the kitchen, all things that would otherwise go to waste.
It’s a blur, everything, from their impromptu Limbo tournament to moving around the villa in search for more alcohol, to taking a few more turns dancing to nostalgic songs. Jimin hugs Taehyung and forgets Seojun, he laughs with Hoseok and forgets being sad, he talks with Seokjin and forgets tomorrow, but he doesn’t forget Yoongi, even if he tries.
He keeps a distance, but he’s there, all the time. Talking, laughing softly and looking like the most beautiful person Jimin has ever seen. Jimin thinks of a time when he had stayed at the office with Seojun, he’d told Jimin to wait for him so they could grab dinner and then took forever to finish. Jimin had nearly fallen asleep on a couch in the common area when Yoongi walked by with a coffee. He’d put it down in front of Jimin with a faint smile and that meaningful look in his eyes. They hadn’t said a word but Jimin had nursed that coffee like it was worth more than gold.
”There you are.” Jimin stiffens when Yoongi slips out from the villa into the garden. It’s nearly pitch black save the stars and the moon. Someone had turned off the lanterns a while ago, or maybe a timer.
”Yeah,” Jimin exhales slowly. ”I just needed some air.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. His head spins like the ground was not all straight anymore. He should probably get back to the hotel and go to bed, sleep and end this awful day before anything else horrible happened. They all should. It had been a long day, if not one of the longest days of Jimin’s life. But his body had moved on its own, like a little voice at the back of his mind urged him to seek out a moment of privacy before they all disappeared in different directions tomorrow and his lonely future dawned like an anxious doomsday. Jimin hadn’t known if Yoongi would actually follow, but perhaps he’d secretly hoped that he would.
”What are you doing here?” Jimin chances a glance at Yoongi who shrugs and walks a few steps closer.
”You disappeared for a while… Just wanted to check on you.”
”Hm.” Jimin smiles to himself. He leans back against the wall and physically feels Yoongi stop somewhere to his right. ”Don’t worry, I’m just drunk, not about to go jump off a bridge.”
”Don’t say shit like that,” Yoongi scoffs and crosses his arms, but it’s with a hint of humor.
Jimin doesn’t want to think about Seojun though, he doesn’t want to talk about anything related to his past relationship, so he quickly changes topics. ”Aren’t you tired?”
He can feel Yoongi shrug. ”Not really. I’m not usually in bed early.”
Jimin should have known that. Seojun always worked late and somehow Yoongi seemed to be there whenever Jimin came to meet him. He smiles a little. ”It’s weird that we don’t know each other.”
”Don’t we?” Yoongi smirks, even if Jimin can’t see it, he can hear it in his voice.
Something about it makes his heart sing. The way Yoongi’s eyes always lingered on him like he was unable to stop looking. How he seemed to know all of Jimin’s preferences without even asking. Maybe they did know each other, more than he’d thought.
”Maybe.” His heart pounds in his chest. They stand so close Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Yoongi’s chest. He turns slightly, just to face him in the dark.
He can see the outline of Yoongi’s face, his cheekbone, the waves of his hair, his nose and mouth. His eyes are cast down to a point somewhere around Jimin’s chin, chest rising and falling softly. Not like Jimin’s whose heart might beat out of its cage.
Jimin wets his lips, tries to think of literally anything to say, but can’t think of anything other than how his body feels drawn to Yoongi. Little hooks and needles pulling them closer. Yoongi doesn’t exactly move away so he guesses it’s a mutual feeling. Jimin knows they shouldn’t be that close, he’s drunk and can’t think straight, but goddamn he wants it so much it hurts.
”Hyung…” he mumbles, trying to say something coherent, something witty, but it doesn’t come out.
Yoongi hums in reply, a soft sound low in his chest. His nose suddenly hovers against Jimin’s cheek, breath fanning over his lips. Jimin inhales shakily. Maybe his hands had reached for Yoongi without meaning to.
He’s so close and smells so good, Jimin can’t really be blamed. He sure is drunk but he knows Yoongi is drunk too. That's why he’s not entirely sure who leans in first. Or, he kind of is. It’s him. Jimin’s fingers curl in Yoongi’s shirt and tugs gently as he allows their lips to meet.
It’s a sweet thing, at first. Just a soft kiss. It only takes a nanosecond for some kind of shock to sink in before Yoongi kisses him back with surprising intent.
His hands come to rest on Jimin’s ribs, pressing him against the wall. Jimin’s head thunks against concrete and his hair fans like a halo. Good grief, Jimin had never been kissed like this in his entire life. It’s warm and solid and absolutely delirious. He cups Yoongi’s jaw when Yoongi tilts his head to kiss him deeper, fingers curling in the back of his hair and Jimin desperately tries to breathe in through his nose.
Yoongi breaks away with a wet sound. ”Wait.”
He stares at Jimin, visibly out of breath. Finally, Jimin thinks. He’s not the only one affected. But there's a slight panic in Yoongi’s eyes and Jimin feels it too.
Fuck.
”Shit, I’m sorry.” Yoongi backs away. But it’s slow, reluctant, his hands linger on Jimin’s waist for a second too long. ”I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t— You’re not feeling good—”
”I know. I’m sorry,” Jimin runs a hand through his own hair, frantically trying to calm his racing heart. He probably shouldn’t have done that, no. It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault. Jimin shouldn’t have started it. He was barely out of a fucking relationship, however shitty. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi and it wasn’t fair to himself. In a twisted way it probably wasn’t fair to Seojun either even if Jimin doesn’t fucking care. ”It was stupid, I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”
”It’s fine, it didn’t happen,” Yoongi says quietly and rubs a hand over his neck. He backs away more, not far enough for Jimin to not feel his presence but out of Jimin’s space.
”It didn’t happen.” Jimin agrees. His face burns with shame and his lips still tingle with the best kiss of his life. But it’s a silent agreement they make then. It never happened. Nothing happened. Jimin knows he shouldn’t have done it but deep down he can’t make himself regret it as much as he probably should.
They share a glance, a fleeting thing that makes Jimin more confused than reassured, then both of them jump as the doors to the villa opens. Golden streaks from inside paints the ground yellow and lights up the space. It’s Seokjin who pokes his head out and leans against the doorframe.
”Whatever is going on out here is not happening. Not tonight.” He gives them a stern look, like they both stood there naked and not a good five feet apart. Jimin is certain nobody saw anything but it makes him feel nervous nevertheless. ”You’re definitely not in the right headspace, Jimin — And don’t think I don’t know about you.”
For some unfathomable reason, he points at Yoongi. Jimin doesn’t understand. Knows what? What does Seokjin know about Seojun’s friend?
”What?” He asks aloud. He’s even more confused when Yoongi suddenly looks angry. Frankly it scares him a little, how he nearly seems about to cry.
"What’s wrong?" Jimin asks timidly when Yoongi’s brows furrow and his eyes turn red in the corners.
Yoongi swallows thickly but, for once, he doesn’t reply.
”It’s nothing,” Seokjin sighs and beckons them inside. ”Come on, the taxis are here, we’re heading back to the hotel. It’s nearly four in the morning!”
Jimin has a bad feeling in his stomach as they all pack themselves into two taxis. In one way or another, he ends up seated between Yoongi and Seokjin without really meaning to. Yoongi still doesn’t say a word, only looks out the window. But halfway through the trip, when Jimin nearly dozes off on Jin’s shoulder, Yoongi’s hand finds his knee and squeezes gently.
~~~