As the night air bites into his cheeks, Yoongi regrets not grabbing a scarf on his way out this morning. Now it’s 6 o’ clock and Yoongi’s just another cold loser. 

     He walks through the unnecessarily spacious courtyard. The city campus is just as unglamorous under lamp lights and the moon’s shade as it does under the blaze of the sun. The patches of grass and outcrops of small benches do little to make the campus friendly but Yoongi can appreciate its beauty in the still air of the night. There’s a feeling of mystery there– like the night’s cloak hid secrets underneath the piss drenched trunks of trees and the little old holes in its bark that hid love letters and trash. That. Or Yoongi’s just delirious from finishing 87 Calculus review questions in one sitting. (It was the longest four hours of Yoongi’s life.)

     A couple scuffles past, emerging from the dark shade of one of the looming courtyard trees, nearly bumping into him. He smells smoke and weed and there was really nothing romantic about the night life of the City College campus. Yoongi was definitely just delirious. 

     He walks; a brisk step at a time, through the city streets, passing by clusters of homeless, faceless people. He wrinkles his nose at the vague smell of piss. He couldn’t figure out if it was caused by the dogs (And how fond were the City dwellers of their little dogs that they keep in their high rise condominiums. The kind they walk in order “to excercise”. The kind that is really just a tool to show status. The kind Yoongi hates.) or the people without warm homes for the winter; either way, Yoongi knew this city was rotting. 

     The trolley platform is sparse when he arrives, a smattering of distant people. All their faces are a mirror– tired, numb and disinterested. Yoongi adjusts his ear buds, tucking them closer into the shell of his ears. By the time the trolley arrives, the platform is b with people and Yoongi’s tapping his fingers to a song with a heavier bass. 

     He’d been staring at the blank screen of his phone, so he sees the text before he can register who it came from.

Jimin  6:13pm

r u not coming? :(

     He looks up at the platform display. In analogue orange, it blinks to let him know that the Green Line is due to arrive in three minutes. The Orange Line is coming in one. 

     A trolley arrives. Yoongi gets on.

     It’s in the thirty minutes he waits, sitting on metal railing, as the cold spreads from his ears down to his neck, that he contemplates what he is doing. The bus isn’t going to be coming till another thirty minutes more. Jimin, of course, liked to make life hard by living far. 

     And his music keeps getting cut off by the incessant notifications from their chatroom. He clicks his tongue before pushing off the rail. 

     Yoongi’s late and Jimin’s feet refused to stop their staccato beating, thump, thump-ti-thump on the ground, his folding chair squeaking with every tap. Namjoon’s head is swelling from irritation but the kid was leaving on a plane tomorrow, there was no use parting on bad terms, so he keeps his words tempered. 

     “… Do you want me to come pick him up?”

     “Huh? Who?” Jimin couldn’t lie for but the faces he makes when he tries is more than entertaining. A mischievous smile tries to crawl its way across his face, but Namjoon smothers it by rubbing his thumb across his nose. “Taehyung, your best friend?" 

     An elbow jostles the back of Namjoon’s head before he feels hands tread through his hair. "Jungkook’s dad is dropping them off, they should be coming soon. But maybe Yoongi needs a ride?" 

     Namjoon loves Seokjin, really, he does. But why did he always have to be such a stick in the mud? 

     "Yeah, he…"Jimin fiddles with a napkin, slowly shredding a square piece at a time,"uh, didn’t reply to my texts so I don’t know if he’s coming?” It’s such an move to make Jimin feel like on his last day in their small town. But Yoongi had always been the resident in the group, so Namjoon guesses people don’t change much after high school.

     He pats Jimin in the back, a tad harder than strictly necessary, clearing his throat before dropping a witty one-liner he was sure would cheer him up; “If it’s any consolation, Yoongi doesn’t really reply to anyone.” Jimin only gives him a weird smile, eyebrows pulled close and lips looking like a crooked dip. Seokjin just sighs before turning to ask the kids if they wanted to start roasting wieners.

     Namjoon did not claim to be a comedian. 

     Jimin’s still pensive, after everyone– consisting of their gang, Jihoon, Chan and those two 12 year olds who were apparently Chinese exchange students renting Jimin’s room– gathers around the bonfire with sticks and sausages.

     Jimin burns the top of his sausage while keeping the lower half completely uncooked. Seokjin looked pale with concern and Namjoon didn’t really think it was fair that he was expected to do something about it. 

     He takes the unsalvageable piece of processed from the younger’s hand and throws it behind him, pulling Jimin away from the fire and into a seat. Seokjin makes a strangled sound and Mr.  Park’s probably shooting the back of his dyed head a glare. “Relax, Chim, Yoongi has to come. His kid cousins are here after all.”

     Jihoon looks up from the fire pit, where he’d been burning Chan’s sausage with glee, face changing into a passive stare.

     “Yoongi couldn’t care less. And I’m fifteen now, .”

     Ahh, Lee Jihoon, the life of the party. Namjoon gets a running start, hooking his arm around the kid’s neck, tucking him snuggly against his armpit,  while his other hand presses down on the cheeky brat’s head; “YAH, who are you calling an ? Did you forget who’s gonna be dropping you off later?”

     Jihoon struggles on his own for all of a second before yelling for an assist from Chan. It doesn’t work because Chan is eleven and weighs less than a stick of sausage. Namjoon ends up hauling them both off, their voices still high and their protests nothing but mere screeches. Jimin’s laughing as he tries to save the cheeky children from the big bad, pink monster. He nearly drops Jihoon on his face when Yoongi casually walks across the wooden threshold of the fence work, dripping in sweat and clutching a bottle of cider in one hand. 

     About damn time. 

     It’s stupid and it shouldn’t matter because the older had always missed hang outs more often than he bothered to show up. But Jimin’s happy. His jaw feels weird, as if unused to how wide he’d cracked his lips, but he couldn’t stop. Yoongi was here.

     “Yoongi-hyung. Hi.” He breathes out.

     Yoongi pushes the bottle to Jimin’s chest and grabs a stick from Seokjin with an inaudible grunt. Jimin stumbles after him, placing the bottle by the marshmallows with a clatter, but only because he didn’t want Yoongi stealing his spot by the fire. 

     “Did you have school? How was it? Busy?” Jimin prods. Yoongi’s too busy fiddling with his jacket sleeves, stretching them to cover his hand from the heat, to give a response. It’s a lost cause and Jimin knows, so he grabs the stick from the other, roasting it instead. A wrinkle forms between the elder’s eyebrows and Jimin’s lips burn with the desire to kiss it away. 

     Instead, he drags his thumb up and through the small crease. It leaves a black mark and Jimin’s eyes widen with mirth. Yoongi notices almost immediately because of the laughter that booms across from them, thank you Namjoon, you easily amused retard. He reaches up and when his finger comes away black, from the charcoal, Jimin’s already getting ready to bolt. Yoongi doesn’t yell or put him in a headlock. He reaches forward, lazy almost, and bops his blackened finger against the tip of Jimin’s nose. 

     “Jimin, the black-nosed .”

     Laughter explodes all around and Jimin knows his own will be quick to join them but laughing would entail dragging his eyes away. Yoongi was laughing too and it was a sight.

     Taehyung arrives with Jungkook, waving like a fool to Mr. Jeon as he drove away. He carried a box and was sporting an orange turtleneck, sweats and what could quite possibly be the ugliest piece of clothing in history.

     “Is that a bathrobe?” Jimin points, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

     Jungkook shakes his head, speeding up his stride to get into the front yard and away from Taehyung. “I told him not to wear it.”

     Namjoon, on the other hand, was dying. He can’t muster words beyond a broken litany of what, what is that as he collapses into a chair, nearly squashing Jihoon, much to the other’s dismay.

     “I am wearing the latest fashion, of course! All of you are just jealous,” Tarhyung proclaims, as he takes a sweeping turn to show off his–frankly hideous– purple, star patterned, hooded bathrobe. He’s also sporting a face mask which, as a coughing fit swiftly follows his statement, punctuates the fact that he is actually terribly ill. If they didn’t know Taehyung any better, they could have put off his choice in clothes for something he’d done because he was not in the right state of mind, but unfortunately, they do. So, they know that this was all Taehyung.

     Jin pats his back, “Whatever you say Tae, sausage?”

     “I didn’t know Namjoon-hyung was up for sharing.” He leers, gaze going up and down Seokjin’s body. It’s all grease and wiggling eyebrows and everyone loses their . He basks in their response, clearly proud of breaking the ice.

     He notices Jimin by the fire. Never one to let an opportunity pass, Taehyung runs, arms wide open, box dangerously close to tipping open, while screaming what sounds like ‘ChimChiiiiim’ towards Jimin. The other was unprepared, roasting his second sausage for the night, with considerable success this time. Yoongi, the good hyung that he was, stuck out an arm, effectively stopping the disaster waiting to happen (if there was one thing he learned in chemistry, it was that cotton bathrobes are highly flammable) and directing Taehyung’s unrestrained tackle-hug to himself. 

     “Yoongi-hyung! You came! I thought you’d chicken for sure,” Yoongi grunts, Taehyung’s constant bobbing was mussing his hair and he remembers why he doesn’t like getting hugged. Everyone was always ing taller than him.

     He sinks his elbow into Taehyung’s rib for his passive aggressive jab. The other huffs, ruffling Yoongi’s hair to which the other was prepped to start yelling at him for, before jamming a cookie into Yoongi’s protesting mouth. His taste buds felt like they were under attack– this cookie was so violently sweet, Yoongi can feel a cavity forming. 

     “I brought cookies for easy s'mor-king!” Taehyung yells with a triumphant grin, strutting towards the table where the rest of the food was placed, box high above his head. 

     “Snorking?!” Jungkook stutters.

     “No, S'more making, you Harry Potter-obsessed dork." 

     "Kookie’s going through puberty right now, cut him some slack Tae.” Jimin teases, approaching the other to pull him into a hug.

     “Isn’t it snogging though? Not snorking?” Namjoon questions.

     “Has 'Jin not been giving you enough attention that you’ve turned to British books about twelve year olds too?” Yoongi snorts, throwing a gleeful leer at Namjoon over the fire. Seokjin’s too busy teaching one of the tiny Chinese exchange students how to properly roast a sausage to bother with the conversation, resulting in Namjoon sputtering to defend the literary artistry of the Potter series, alone. 

     Jungkook groans. They were never going to let him live down the fact that they found his stash in between the pages of his Potter collection. It was only to camouflage them, he swears! Hermione was like a sister to him!

     All the while, Chan wonders what liking the Potter series had to do with puberty. (Jihoon’s wondering the same thing but knows better than to ask– that road was where hell lied.)

     “Where’s Hobi-hyung?” Taehyung asks through a mouthful of stolen sausage. Jimin shoves him in retaliation, keeping a protective hold over his desecrated sausage, “He’s grilling burgers with Dad in the back." 

     "I swear, It’s not ing fair that all our parents like him!”

     “Maybe if you didn’t swear so much, the parentals would feel at ease having you over." 

     Taehyjng sticks out his tongue, "Says the punk with dyed hair and piercings!” Namjoon just raises an eyebrow, looking straight at Taehyung as he sipped on his soda slowly, “They still like me better than you though.”

     Taehyung acts like he’d been shot, gasping with his hands on his chest, dramatically falling to the ground. Jimin laughs and kicks at the idiot before stepping over him, claiming his seat next to Yoongi. Seokjin shakes his head as Chan trips over the fool, taking the younger down and smothering him in a hug as they rolled around the dirt. Chan asks for help, wheezing with laughter and Seokjin takes pity on the boy and pulls him from Taehyung’s clutches. 

     Hoseok comes barging out brandishing a platter of hamburgers with a yell of “Hot buns!” Seokjin calls first pick and Jimin heads inside to get ketchup and mayonnaise. 

     The Chinese kids, Minghao and Junhui, didn’t really speak to them much but Seokjin liked to fuss after them nonetheless. Jihoon’s unsociable and Chan was too shy to make friends with who were essentially strangers. So they kept to themselves, speaking in hushed tones while huddled by the fire.

     Seokjin couldn’t imagine having people moving into his room. The concept of renting out Jimin’s room was strange. Strange but practical. May as well earn money from an empty room. 

     Seokjin guesses that the only thing that leaves a bitter after taste for him is that Jimim wasn’t even gone yet. Jimin was still here, his last night. It didn’t feel right that he had to clean up any traces of himself from his own room and had been sleeping on the living room sofa in the past week…

     So, it’s with mixed feelings that he accommodates the kids. It’s not right, he knows, they weren’t at fault– they were just striving for a better education. Just like Jimin was. What sort of strength did it take to uproot their lives, leave everything they know, to pursue their dreams? Seokjin wouldn’t know, he supposes. He looks to where Namjoon was playing keep away with Jimin, using the ketchup bottle as bait. 

     Seokjin’s never been brave enough.

     "Since everyone’s here, should we light up the sparklers now, or get to making s'mores first?” Hoseok asks, to which Tahyung shouts for a s'more making competition. Namjoon swears.

     “, babe, did you grab the sparklers?” Seokjin waits a bit, already knows he didn’t but stalls because he wasn’t really up for Namjoon being mad at him for something that wasn’t his fault. Namjoon groans, already knowing the answer. 

     “Babe, why didn’t you–”

     “Relax hyung, its fine.” Jimin interrupts, pushing Namjoon back down unto his seat with a hand on his shoulder. “We can just roast marshmallows and bring up embarrassing stories about Jungkook!” Jungkook makes a strangled sound.

     Jimin is such a sweet boy. Seokjin doesn’t want to let the younger boy leave even more, but…it was probably for the best. He was just too sensitive. Considerate. He gave all of himself without expecting anything in return. And every one of them only knew how to take from each other.

     “No, man, I spent a pretty penny getting a bunch– it’s your last night, so we gotta send you off with a bang!" 

     "Then just drive back to pick it up, asshat.” Yoongi drawls. There’s an edge to his otherwise bored tone, and Seokjin’s thankful that he has great friends but he also would really appreciate it if no one went home with a bloody nose tonight. He ushers Namjoon along to his car, shaking his head when his boyfriend asked if he would come along. Namjoon questions him why. He gestures towards the kids with a shrug. It’s a weak excuse but Seokjin will take what he can get– he didn’t want to get in a fight in the car. He lets Namjoon press a kiss to his cheek before waving him off. 

     He comes back to Taehyung shouting “Ewww, the lesbians were PDA-ing!!” Jesus Christ, it was probably around ten o clock and people were sleeping. Seokjin really shouldn’t be laughing along. 

     “Shouldn’t that be getting old by now?” He plucks a new stick, spearing two marshmallows before sticking it into the burning fire. It’s bigger now, actually. 

     Hoseok, who’s prodding at the fire and rearranging the wooden blocks with the hot poker, giggles maniacally. A chorus of “NEVER!!” was the unsurprising reply he gets. Graduating high school did not do wonders for his bunch’s maturity. 

     Yoongi only raises an eyebrow before handing him a plastic cup with a secret smile. He sniffs it and his eyes widen. Min ing Yoongi, you bad motherer.

     A grin grows on his face before he promptly downs the whole cup.  The other slaps him in the back as his throat burns and forces him to cough violently for a bit. Taehyung, from where he was competing with Chan on who can burn their marshmallow faster, looks up at the commotion. His eyes light up with recognition, zeroing in on the cup in Seokjin’s hand. 

     “HOLY HYUNG, IS THAT–”

     Thankfully Jimin shuts him up by smothering Taehyung’s face mask against his mouth from where it had hung off his neck. Mr. Park was listening in through the open door of the house. He would flip if he knew his son and his friends were drinking, underage, around pre-teens and an open fire. 

     Just the thought of all the things that could go wrong almost immediately pulls him from his buzzed state (Seokjin was as light weight as a feather). But Yoongi must’ve brought the good stuff, because his paranoia is safely under wraps and all Seokjin feels is a pleasant warmth underneath his belly. 

     Taehyung whines about sharing and Hoseok is now brandishing the hot poker towards Yoongi.

     “Hyung,” Hoseok croons, acting cute and bouncing, “Don’t you have something for your favorite dongsaeng?” Hoseok’s the best at acting cute out of all of them but it doesn’t really detract from the fact that he was threatening Yoongi by brandishing the hot metal rod towards him. A slow smile grows on Yoongi’s lips, and it would be pretty, soft pink lips framing small rows of teeth, but those kinds of smiles from Yoongi never really boded well to whoever it was directed to, so Seokjin knew better than to be fooled. 

     “You’re right,” Yoongi whips out a small glass bottle of Jaeger Meister, can’t have been taller than his forefinger and holy those were expensive, swinging it slowly from his fingertips while approaching Hoseok. Hosoek nearly drops the hot poker (thank god the kids were far away from him) as Yoongi approaches, before getting snubbed as the elder makes his way past him and towards Jimin. 

     Yoongi slips it into the back pocket of Jimin’s jeans, chest pressing against chest, the fire casting shadows on their faces and Seokjin thinks Yoongi may have had more to drink than he’d initially thought. He can’t tell if it’s the warmth of the fire or the tension that has his cheeks burning. It might just be the alcohol though.

     It was definitely Yoongi’s breath–warm, wet puffs pushing against his neck–that has Jimin feeling like lava was coursing through his veins.

     “Don’t drink it all at once, mkay?” . The other’s fingers were still holding the neck of the small bottle, tucked into the tight pocket of his jeans and Jimin cannot process what Yoongi’s saying. The husky tone washes over him, his breath leaving goose bumps, making Jimin quiver where he stood. Lips brush over the shell of his ear and Jimin thinks he might just pass out. “ 'Minie?" 

     "Y-yes,” Jimin gasps as Yoongi crowds closer, his hand finally slipping from his pocket, before making their way around his nape. Yoongi’s hand felt cool around his superheated neck, soothing, if it weren’t Yoongi causing him to overheat in the first place. His hyung pats his cheek with his free palm, “And what do good boys say?” His drawl was so deep, he almost couldn’t understand what he said through the thrumming of his pulse and the heat gathering where their skin touched. But he does. His lips felt dry, his throat even more so, but he swallows and answers.

     “T-thank you, hyung.” The hand on his cheek drags down, Yoongi’s thumb grazing the edge of his lip before it’s pulled away.

     “Good boy,” Yoongi leaves his space, taking Jimin’s ability to breathe with him.

     The whole time the two were wrapped up in each other, Hoseok wonders how Yoongi and Jimin just managed to make eight other people feel like a third wheel. In the short minutes that the whole exchange took, everyone had been so gob smacked; no one had made conversation. The little kiddies were wide eyed and watching, courtesy of Seokjin’s neglect. Taehyung, god bless the overactive man child, couldn’t contain himself anymore that as soon as Yoongi stepped away with a relaxed quirk of his lips, he exploded and tackled Jimin. 

     Hoseok feels a bit like jumping on Yoongi and kicking the crap out of him, as well. But Hoseok valued his well-being, thank you very much. 

     Namjoon honks as he rounds up the hill, effectively cutting Hoseok off from whining at Yoongi for alcohol. Someone had taken his parking spot and now he has to parallel park on the curb, into the space between Mr. Park’s van and Hoseok’s beetle.

     Taehyung clambers to drape himself over the fence, securing a front row seat for the spectacle waiting to happen. Jimin joins him, the flush from his cheeks receding down his neck from the cool night air. Taehyung bites his lip, trying not to say any more. He’d given his best friend plenty more than just a piece of his mind earlier. Though he’s not sure if Jimin understood him through all his whisper-yelling, Taehyung will just take his confused bumbling as confirmation that the Best Man position was his, once his best friend got hitched to their cranky hyung.

     Namjoon pulls in but he doesn’t quite make it in. He’s driving out again to readjust his wheel’s position but he’s so close to Hoseok’s bumper that Taehyung’s sure his hand wouldn’t fit in the small gap.

     “ Namjoon, if you graze my car, I’ll have your for breakfast.” Hoseok spits, walking out to the sidewalk. Taehyung’s laughter devolved into coughs and he’s pretty sure all the phlegm was blocking his ability to breathe but holy he wants that as his ring tone.

     He’s still dying when Hoseok attempts to pull Namjoon out of the driver’s seat and park the car himself– his cough is probably getting worse but it’s worth another day of phlegm-y hell to see the look on Mr. Park’s face as he went outside to check what the commotion was about. At this point, Namjoon has successfully fended off Hoseok but the other is still standing and nagging on the side walk, shouting out directions laced with casual insults, as he backs up into the space. When he stops, he’s closer to the van than what Mr. Park would have been comfortable with, judging from the pinched look on his face. Jimin’s melting into his side, elbow digging into his ribs and Taehyung momentarily feels choked.

     This was it. Tonight was going to be the last night he’d have with Jimin, laughing over the stupidest , falling into a pile of limbs on the dirt of his front yard– he wasn’t going to have this again till another half a year. And that might as well be forever. The longest he’d gone without Jimin by his side was when his family drove up to the mountains to camp for the weekend. There was no signal and Taehyung had never missed him so much. Now he has to miss him for so much longer. 

     He’s crying when Namjoon finally finishes parking. Everyone thinks it’s because he’s laughed too much. They don’t know that Taehyung just realized that he was going to be left behind by his best friend, that he’ll well and truly be alone and incomplete without Jimin– and they don’t have to know. Jimin doesn’t have to know. All he needs to know is that Taehyung loves him so very much and that tonight was going to be the best night of his life till the next time they light fires and raze the neighborhood for his homecoming. 

     He’s breathless and Jimin’s poking his tear streaked cheeks. He turns to bite Jimin’s finger and he catches it with his teeth. Jimin squeals and tries to get away but he doesn’t let him. He hugs Jimin to his side a little tighter. Tonight was their night. 

     The Park Family’s backyard was largely an underdeveloped, mound of dirt. Ninety five percent of it was occupied by the side of a hill and there was really nothing to be done about it, short of getting a construction crew to taper it down. That was definitely not within their budget, seeing as they felt the need to rent out Jimin’s room. What was the point in cashing out so much for a house that you had to do major renovations on, yourself? Jungkook didn’t understand Jimin’s parents. (He didn’t understand adults.)

     But if there’s anything that can redeem Mr. Park, it was how he single-handedly built the 'stairway to heaven’. On the far side, car tires laid flat and filled with the dirt from the hill, weeds sprouting from the middle and its sides, acted as the stairs to the top of the hill. It’s vaguely dangerous to climb, as there are no handrails but the metal fence does just as well. It goes up the hill, the height of it nearly in level with a four story building. At the very top, a perfect view of the skyline can be seen. Plastic bottles were stuffed through the fence, its expanse spelling out “God is Good”, each letter just as tall and wide as Jungkook was. (The irony of the phrase is not lost on them, a bunch of kids that never took bible study seriously, making a place meant to glorify God, their haven.) Jungkook always loved the nights they would lay on the dirt, or lean against the back fence and just throw chips at each other while waiting for the sunset to make way for the stars.

     He breathes in the night air, the smell of wet dirt and singed meat puts him off but it reminds him that he wasn’t alone. He turns back to give Jihoon a glance. They were getting the rest of the firewood, Jihoon having volunteered himself hurriedly, as soon as Namjoon’s speaker changed from blasting Evanesvence Middle School Angst to Up and Down by Exid. Jungkook just as briskly went to the back when he saw his Hobi-hyung get up and start stretching his hips. Nope, not tonight Satan.

     So now he’s stuck with the other boy. It’s weird. Jihoon was only two years younger than him but his height and face had Jungkook thinking he was hanging out with a 5th grader. It was just weird. 

     He hefts a trio of logs tied by twine. It’s relatively weighty but it’s nothing that Jungkool couldn’t handle. He wasn’t so sure about Jihoon though, so he looks over at the younger. He feels his eyes bulge out when he sees the other tying three stacks of three logs and then proceeding to heft it on his shoulder. Holy .

     “Uhh, you think you can handle that? I can take some of that for you.”

     “No, I’m fine.” was Jihoon’s dismissive reply. Jungkook approaches the other to try and lessen his load anyway, to which the smaller makes a small noise of disapproval from bellow his throat.

     “Hyung, really, I can handle this,” Jihoon insists, eyes rolling as soon as he turns his back to Jungkook, “This way, we can get them out faster. Don’t worry; I’ll pick up your slack for you.” Jungkook can hear the smug smirk the little was sporting and hell no he was not about to let a brat half his size outdo him; he worked out. Jeon Jungkook was the strongest– the golden maknae. And it was about time he laid down the law. 

     He stops Jihoon with a holler, and with a few choice words, and it was on.

🔥🔥🔥

     Jungkook meant to take his time. Walk back with the wooden logs with a pace that will make snails weep. Maybe go a few trips back and forth. Anything but run with three by fours of logs on each shoulder, bursting into the front yard with a whoop, not even halfway through Exid’s second chorus. He’s sweaty and adrenaline’s lighting up his eyes as he turned back to Jihoon who was only a step behind. The other’s hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, leading him to follow them down to the little scrunch of his nose and quirk of his lips. Ha. Jungkook’s still got it. 

     It’s not till Hoseok is dragging him by the hand to join their formation does regret hit him. Now he was going to have to dance to y girl group songs, which was precisely what wanted to avoid, why he had volunteered to get the firewood in the first place. Jihoon’s face has morphed into a self-satisfied smirk, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow once he saw Jungkook’s gaze on him. ing brat. 

     It’s at the weird slow part that songs always seemed to have, that he gets pulled in. His hyungs were slowly gyrating their hips, biting and their lips in a mockery of a come-hither expression, and Yoongi and Namjoon was losing their . One of the little Chinese kids was muffling giggles behind his hand, the other occupied with recording the spectacle they made of themselves, grown men dancing to girl group songs. Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole but he also took the time to learn the dance to this song and since he was going to dishonor his ancestors anyway, he was gonna do it well. 

     As soon as the chorus hits, he drops his hips and his s had him feeling the waistband of his leather pants digging into the small of his back. Dancing has always been fun and since he was good at it, it was double the fun. He catches Jihoon’s eye across the other side of the yard, and the other quickly closed his open mouth and averted his eyes. Jungkook’s smile widens into a saucy grin. And his s become more exaggerated, his pelvis screaming, and he runs his hand down his chest, looking straight at Jihoon as he bites and slowly lets go of his bottom lip. Jungkook resists cackling; the fire paled in comparison to Jihoon’s red cheeks. 

     Maybe having someone younger was not such a bad thing, thinking on all the teasing he could do.  He can sort of understand his hyungs now. But it doesn’t stop him from scowling when Taehyung slaps his and Jimin musses his hair.

     Jimin is a good hyung. He’s always nice and treated Jihoon to fast-food whenever he can. And, even though it was really annoying, Jimin was always conscious of his dongsaeng’s needs, even when Jihoon refuses to acknowledge needing help. He was the kind of hyung Jihoon wanted to be like (but ultimately will never come close to). The only thing about him was, he got really stupid when he got around his friends. Well, Yoongi’s friends. 

     (It’s all a little weird because he often felt like Yoongi’s friends are more like his elder cousins than Yoongi was.)

     Exhibit A. Some stupid song about coconuts’ nuts was playing and Jimin sported matching coconut butts with Hoseok. 

     “Da coconut nut is a giant nut,” The dried coconut halves, meant to be added fodder for the bon fire, were stuffed down their pants and the process of getting the coconut husks into the tight confines of their jeans was another nightmare (involving a lot of shrieking and yells of you’re crushing my nuts!) entirely. The song itself is quirky and Jihoon may be a little horrified to feel himself bobbing along.

     “If you eat too much, you get very fat~!” Oh god. Were their butts vibrating? It was like watching a snail burn as salt is poured over it. Jihoon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sheer horror that was happening. Jungkook couldn’t either, but he was definitely getting it on Snapchat– this was quality blackmail material.

     “Da coconut nut is a big BIG nut,” Taehyung shrieks from the top of his lungs, effectively tripling the rate at which Jihoon fired off prayers for a quick death, set for yesterday preferably.

     “But this delicious nut,” And then Hoseok shushes everyone, waits a beat before he and Jimin goes, “iS NOT A NUT~!”

     Taehyung’s now attempting to slap their butts, chasing Jimin and Hoseok around, clutching coconut husks to hit against their coconut butts, intending to make a percussion masterpiece.

     Jihoon’s quite sure the neighbors want to kill themselves as much as Jihoon did. 

     The noise simmers down after the last of the coconut song dies off and is replaced by Namjoon’s playlist, melting into a soft r&b piece. Yoongi sits on another chair, the one he’d been sitting on having been taken over by Chan, who was snoring softly. Jihoon gets up to drape a jacket on the other boy. It would be troublesome if he got sick on Jihoon’s watch. 

     Jihoon passes Jimin, who plops himself onto Yoongi’s lap with a whoop, still coming down his high from the coconut fiasco. Yoongi yelps and everyone laughs at his expense. He grumbles for a bit before loosely wrapping his arm around Jimin’s waist, securing the other boy’s perch on his lap more firmly. Namjoon whines for Seokjin to make him a cookie s'more (two chocolate chip cookies, hazelnut spread lathered on both sides, pieces of hershey chocolates on top with two pieces of perfectly roasted marshmallows squished in the middle, and what was this, McDonalds?) and the whole spectacle is followed by everyone avidly. Not Jihoon though. 

     No, Jihoon was looking at Exhibit B. It counts, since Yoongi and Jimin are 'friends’.

     They’re whispering in low tones, heads leaning forward, faces close enough for their breathes to mingle and the thought of exchanging carbon dioxide emissions with another person is vaguely disgusting to Jihoon but he guess people think its hot . Jimin giggles–giggles!– and his whole body shakes with it, so he leans closer to Yoongi to avoid falling and Yoongi’s fiddling with Jimin’s hair, running his whole hand to slick it back before resting his hand on Jimin’s nape– and this is all just so stupid. They are so into each other and what are they? Just “friends”.

     Jihoon’s never been interested in meddling with romance but this was just excruciating. It kind of reminds him of that one book, the stupid one about star-crossed lovers that ended up killing themselves for each other. It made him want to pull at his hair. All that build up was made, only to never reach any resolution– that’s what Yoongi and Jimin’s relationship was. 

     Only stupider. (and is that even a word? Jihoon may just be catching the stupid from their noisy bunch.) Because if they liked each other so much, what was stopping them from being together? There were no warring families, no meddlesome admirers, no antagonistic friends; now they’ve wasted their golden years and time is up.

     A heavy weight settles itself on Jihoon’s chest and it’s stupid. Because they have no one to blame but themselves. There was nothing that Jihoon could have done but he had the strongest surge of regret for not having tried anyway.

     Maybe he’ll give Jimin his paperback copy of that stupid book.

     It was time for sparklers and Namjoon whips them out like a treasure, to be given the highest regard and Taehyung bows low to him, forehead hitting the dirt with a dull thud. Namjoon nods, satisfied with his prostration and rewarded him with three sparkler sticks at once. Taehyung lets out a whopping yell, kicking up at air before falling into a coughing fit for his enthusiasm. Jimin soothes his back while laughing. Seokjin takes that moment to pluck the third stick from the other boy’s grasp– Taehyung only had two hands which means he can only hold two at a time, no need to tempt the boy to light the third and hold it with his toes or, worse, his mouth. 

     Hoseok follows Taehyung’s example but instead mimics a very eager dog, playfully pawing at Namjoon’s pant leg. He paws a little too hard when Namjoon says, “Wow, you make for an ugly dog.” and Namjoon howls in pain; it costs him a stick. He only got one. 

     Seokjin debated giving Hoseok the one he confiscated from Taehyung, as he fiddled with the two that Namjoon’s already handed him, but opted to hand it to Chan, who woke up from all of Hoseok’s screaming as he chased Taehyung to steal his sparklers. He ensures that the rest of the kids have at least two, and reminded them to only light one at a time and not to run while their sparklers were lit. 

     Namjoon turns to Yoongi for his lighter and Yoongi raises an eyebrow before lazily gesturing towards the open fire on the pit. Everyone laughs at Namjoon’s momentary slip in intelligence. It was always good when the resident smart- made a stupid- of himself. 

     Minghao, the shorter of the two exchange students, tugs on Seokjin’s sleave, asking for help himself, for the first time tonight. Seokjin feels a bit like tearing up, but settles for a quick hug that had Minghao squeaking and Junhui running over to his side. Seokjin lights his sparkler and has them press their unlit sticks against his blazing one.

     Everyone does the same, going around in a circle around the fire. 

     They burn through three packs of sparklers and at one point Seokjin nearly had a heart attack because Chan had ran with a lit sparkler to get away from Taehyung’s thieving hands. Jimin snickers as he pockets his phone, his Snap story filled with clips of Jungkook screeching like a banshee anytime a sparkler came so much as an inch towards his direction, Hoseok setting Taehyung’s bathrobe on fire (the ugly thing was now buried in dirt at the far corner of the yard), and a secretly taken video of Yoongi looking down at his lit sparkler intently. He needed to pack lots, after all. Lots of memories. Lots of the things that made him happy. Lots of Taehyung, who he couldn’t ever imagine life without; of Seokjin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung, the ones who cared for him and brought him out of his shell; of Jungkookie with his crooked teeth and disrespectful grin; And Yoongi. 

     Jimin’s breath catches in his throat.

     When the last spark died off, the air became mellow. The night was coming to a close. Everyone’s cups were half filled with alcohol and cider, sipping slowly, as if slowing down now will make the moment last forever. They were young and burned through life faster than they fried through three packets of sparklers. And they didn’t know how to slow down. Only ever learned to run, to run forward, forever and always. Running to better cities, only to find them empty and lacking before running once more, leaving behind familiar faces and never stopping. 

     Jimin wishes he wasn’t such a coward. A coward who only knew how to run. But he was and the bags behind his front door paint him guilty.

     Everyone’s ripping up left over cardboard boxes, throwing them into the fire. It grows large, like a lion raring to consume them, and they lean forward as the fire surges and flickers because danger was their anthem and the thrill was their religion.

     The ashes float and they are embers, glowing red and the kids shriek, afraid to be burnt but when they come falling down, after a moment that seemed shorter than a second, they were nothing but grey, crumbled powder. The ashes dust everyone, covers them with the smell of burnt wood and wasted youth. Jimin closes his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, staggering back from the smog that rises from the pit; Namjoon had started pouring water, from half empty water bottles that they’ve accumulated, into the pit to permanently kill the fire. The wave of smoke clogs his nose and he’s too occupied with blinking out the ashes that have fallen on his eyelashes to see anything clearly. There are shrieks and laughter in the air. Sounds of splashing water and Jimin’s a little lost but a hand grabs a hold of him and pulls him out of the smoke. It’s Yoongi. And he’s looking straight at the cloud of smoke, its billowy body thinning out with the night wind’s efforts.

     The grip on Jimin’s hand is tight and it anchors him to the moment. Hoseok’s laughter. Taehyung’s shrieks. Jungkook’s wet footfalls. The sound of Seokjin fanning out the smoke around one of the kids. Namjoon whining about his new jeans getting ruined. Yoongi breathing right beside him. His heart rate eases and his breathing evens out, falling into pace with Yoongi’s. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he’s not sure if he’s tearing up because of the smoke or because–

     Yoongi looks him in the eye, for what feels like the first time again, and he smiles. It makes his eyes crinkle shut and his gums show and Jimin’s so glad he’s spending his last night with him. With them.