It's Jimin who speaks first. The fairy lights they hung up together illuminates his face, making him glow in the most beautiful way possible. It's nighttime in their heads, and it seems so because outside looks mostly pitch black. It'd be better that way, because everything seemed magical at night, everything looked a bit more worthwhile; everything including Jimin and Yoongi.

They're five and seven years old when they decide to sleep under a fort created by them, using mountains of pillows along with a huge blanket. It's located in Yoongi's house in the closet downstairs that has no use except for storage of things forgotten. It all seems surreal; the way Jimin is looking at Yoongi, eyes alit with wonder, it's dazzling and Yoongi hopes not to be blinded by it.

"What are you talking about?" Yoongi says, facing the other, cross-legged and Jimin mimics his actions.

"Let's go on an adventure!" he speaks, grabbing a hold of Yoongi's wrist. It's an almost liberating feeling, as liberated a five year old could feel of course.

"We're in a closet."

"No!" Jimin shakes his head, "We're in a castle!"

Yoongi lets himself laugh, a contrast to his almost permanent state of lethargy. Something he always did whenever he was with the younger, not that it meant anything for them then.

"You can be the brave knight!" Jimin looks around in the cramped space and grabs a tiny box, filled with all of Yoongi's old baby stuff. He empties it, creating a puddle of infant's toys and tiny shoes. Yoongi cringes, thinking he'd have to be the one to clean that up later, but the next thing he knows, the box is placed on his head. It's a bit suffocating, and it also clears out his vision, making him worry about the rustling he hears despite his small handicap.

"I can't see—"

"And I'll be the prince!" he ignores Yoongi's words.

Yoongi raises the box at this point, placing it in a slanted way on his head, causing only his right eye to see. And the view was Jimin using a trash bag as a cape and an old newspaper rolled into a circle for what he assumed was a crown. It's ridiculous how Yoongi's smile reached his ears.

Jimin's lips form a straight line and his plump cheeks become more vivid, "You have to save me!" he says, pointing at Yoongi with his index finger.

"But you're a prince. Isn't the knight supposed to save a princess?" Yoongi says, struggling to keep the box on him in such an awkward position.

"You think so?" Jimin responds, and the elder shrugs.

"Well, that's what happens in fairy tales," he explains, giving up and letting the box hang from his scalp.

Jimin grabs his hand this time, squeezing it tightly, not even bothering to think about the weight of his words. Because he's a kid, and kids say stupid things and things they'll regret. But with this one, he wouldn't be too sure.

"Then, let's make our own fairy tale." a smile is on his face, accompanied with a glistening in his eyes.

Yoongi feels the weight, however, and it goes right through him and stabs his left chest. It's heavy and he doesn't know what it is, because how is a child supposed to know when they're smitten or not?

When Jimin places his arm across his forehead like a damsel in distress and gracefully falls on top of Yoongi, the elder stops his thoughts on the weight and immediately catches the younger in his arms, effectively causing the box to fall off his head. Jimin is covering his own face so Yoongi moves the younger's arm away and he sees Jimin smiling.

"My hero!" he exclaims, a toothy grin appearing on his lips.

Yoongi chuckles "You're an idiot," he says, and they disappear into tangled limbs and loud laughter.

The elder's long forgotten the weight on his chest and his thoughts are against Jimin's eyes alit with something he didn't know.

Yoongi's seven years old when he realizes he wants to make a fairy tale of his own. But he's also seven years old when he mistakes the light in Jimin's eyes as something completely platonic.

—

"You've been on all day, can you stop now?"

Jimin is leaning on Yoongi's side on the bed, resting his body upon the elder as he types away on his laptop. They're fourteen and sixteen now, a little bit more mature, but Jimin is just as clingy.

It's three a.m. when Yoongi checks his clock and discovers he should probably go to sleep and give in to Jimin's request. But the words always fall so easily late at night, and it's also then that Yoongi has inspiration to write. Because somehow all his eureka moments happen after midnight, it's sort of ridiculous.

"What are you even writing about?" Jimin rubs his eyes and stares at the screen. All he sees are blocks and blocks of words he has yet to read and currently cannot because his eyes seem to refuse to cooperate.

Yoongi saves his work and looks at Jimin, finding the way the light from his laptop's screen reach Jimin's face similar to the fairy lights in the closet. Which isn't exactly something Yoongi thought of regularly, but that thought always pops up whenever a sight he sees associates with the word beautiful. Because Jimin is beautiful, and Yoongi is sixteen years old when he admits it but doesn't believe he can say it out loud. Not this time, at least.

"It's another fairy tale," he says, "It's about a boy falling in love with a fairy but she only appears when the boy is hurt. He realizes he loves her after his heart gets broken and she appears to fix it. So, it's nothing, really." his head looks down upon the keyboard, suddenly not knowing what to type next. So he closes his laptop with a loud sigh and decides to finish it tomorrow, hoping he'd still have the inspiration the next morning.

"It sounds lovely, hyung," Jimin says, resting his head on the elder's shoulder. He sounds tired in Yoongi's ears, so he places the blanket on top of him and drapes his arm around the younger. Jimin responds delightfully and buries his head in the crook of Yoongi's neck. Yoongi feels Jimin's breath tickling his collarbones, a sensation he can't quite explain pools in his stomach. It feels oddly good, he admits, so he rubs circles on the younger's shoulders, hoping the next day won't come too quickly.

"You seem really focused on writing, hyung." Jimin's eyes are closed; his words are slurred because he's completely drained out. Yet, he still wants a conversation to occur, right in the middle of the night, when all things seem small.

"It's what I want to do," Yoongi says, letting his chin rest upon the younger's head, it's a position they do mostly on days where one of them is tired and just needs somebody to be there. But this time it isn't like that, there's no drama or anger or sadness, it's just Jimin and Yoongi. And Jimin loves the simplicity of it.

"Why is that so easy for you?" Jimin asks.

Yoongi hums in response, a tone of curiosity on his tongue.

"How is it so easy for you to know what you want?" he clutches on to Yoongi, practically engulfing himself in the elder until all he's doing is breathing him in and all his thoughts are directed to the other.

It's a nice thought, Jimin thinks, to ponder upon the existence of Min Yoongi just about to fall asleep. He thinks about the way tiny wrinkles appear on the corner of Yoongi's eyes whenever he shows that gummy smile of his, about how Yoongi's eyes light up with passion whenever the topic of literature occurs in any part of their daily banter, turning their conversation into something a little more serious. As if the words they speak will engrave in the back of their minds and stay there for the rest of their lives. As if they actually mean something other than a child's wishes and dreams. And for a moment it seems so, for a moment they believe that his words won't eventually turn to dust. And maybe it's better if they do, because in that way the dream looks much more approachable. And it scares Jimin to think of how real Yoongi's words sound, because even naïve kids have heard of the cruelty of the world, and the last thing Jimin wants is Yoongi hurt. So all he does is smile and nod along the words that feel like fire burning in the middle of them, because despite his doubts, Jimin knows he'll make it big, Jimin is so sure that Yoongi's words will make a somewhat impact in this world, as cliché as that sounds.

"It isn't easy, Jiminie," Yoongi starts and Jimin can practically hear him thinking, running through words, thinking about them deeply before he releases them.

"But somehow, if I try to picture myself doing anything else, I can't. It's like I can't imagine myself doing anything other than writing," Yoongi's words feel familiar, in the sense that there's that same feeling of passion, and that the sound of his voice is soothing in Jimin's ears, making it seem like he was trying to lull Jimin to sleep.

Jimin loves this moment; wants to steal it and keep it forever, because right now is a moment that'll go by so quickly. He never wants to forget moments like these; nearing-morning talks about dreams and ambitions, even if he had none himself. But something tells him he has already walked upon his place in this lifetime; he just hasn't looked hard enough. And he'll find it, eventually; he'll look through every nook and cranny this life has to offer before giving up entirely. But right now, he'll put it aside, because Yoongi's warmth surrounding him feels so inviting, and just for this moment he'll forget that he has somewhere else to be in this world. He only hopes that that somewhere is close to Yoongi.

"Hyung," Jimin says, a serious tone overtaking his voice which startles Yoongi a bit that he can barely manage to say anything.

"Yes?" he succeeds, and Jimin looks up at him, awkwardly knocking Yoongi's chin lightly. They stare at each other for a moment, and Jimin's eyes are equipped with the same flicker of light Yoongi remembers from the closet all those years ago.

"Promise me," he says, "Promise me that when you make it—when your first novel becomes a hit and everyone knows your name—that you won't forget me. That you won't forget this friendship we've made, please hyung," he says, accidentally grabbing onto the elder's wrist under the sheets.

Yoongi's in awe, to say the least, because as much as he can't imagine a life without the characters in his books, he also can't imagine a life where he's never met Jimin. Jimin is special, Yoongi knows this much, he can feel their bond as strong as it could be. And when Yoongi thinks about someone who he could be with for the rest of his life, his mind doesn't need a second to think of Jimin.

It scares him a bit, to think that the younger won't always be by his side. That Jimin won't forever be the first person he will run to whenever something amazing or devastating happens in his life. It's completely terrifying. Because Jimin grounds Yoongi, and he tenses down easily when the world around him becomes too much for him to comprehend whenever Jimin comes. For as long as he can remember it's always been Jimin, and his brain short circuits when he tries to think of someone else to fill his role.

So his eyes hover devotedly above Jimin, taking in the image of the younger staring back at him with so much anticipation, and he wonders what drove Jimin to ask such a favor. A favor that Yoongi knows he'll fill, whether he wanted to or not.

Hazily, he pulls away from the younger's grip on his wrist and laces his fingers with Jimin's, wanting him to somehow understand his sincerity, even though he has nothing else to prove it.

"Forgetting you is like forgetting my entire life," he says, and he leaves it at that. Noticing the way Jimin beams at him before falling into sleep. Yoongi follows soon after, and he smiles when he finds their hands still intertwined the next morning when they wake up.

—

Yoongi is long over with fairy tales, currently aiming for his viewership to be the youth and not young children, so naturally, on most days he writes romance. Romance seemed most familiar to him, although he can't say out loud that he's ever been in love. But he has an idea; an idea that included the only constant person in his life who was currently sporting a shade of red for his hair.

(What he doesn't know is that every single word he has written was about Jimin.)

Yoongi is eighteen when he chooses creative writing as his major in a college his parents can't afford. But a shortage of money isn't going to make Yoongi give up, so he manages to get a part time job as a receptionist at the gym inside campus. Working hours were flexible, plus his boss was really nice. Yoongi can't see any reason not to try.

"You don't look like you're having much fun," Jimin rolls into the room on one of those yoga balls. He comes here nearly every day, proclaiming he was building his body. Yoongi wonders why that out of all of the gyms in the city he chose the one located in his school, but it's not like he's complaining, seeing Jimin was something he looked forward to everyday. But seeing him working out, flexing his muscles, and checking out the progress of his abs (sometimes turning to Yoongi to ask his opinion) was complete torture. It's almost a sin that the younger looked so hot whilst covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Yoongi could only endure so much.

"And you look... sweaty," he retorts, tilting his head while looking down at Jimin, wondering if his cheeks have turned bright red.

"Naturally," Jimin says, taking the towel that was hanging on his left shoulder and uses it to wipe his sweat.

Yoongi watches as Jimin tilts his head to wipe his neck, noticing the droplets of sweat reach his impossibly deep collarbones. Mouth gaping, he stares involuntarily, eyes locked on admiring the younger's figure. And damn him for wear a white tank top, letting his glorious six pack out for everyone to see. Yoongi suspects that he did it on purpose, wanting to show off his huge accomplishment, an accomplishment Yoongi doesn't know whether to be proud of or not.

He's taken aback when the redhead chuckles, eyes disappearing into crescents. Yoongi notices his evident smirk, and finally drops his stare.

"Yeah, I'm hot, aren't I?" Jimin says awfully obnoxious, making Yoongi scoff. He feels defeated, because Jimin saw right through him, but it's not like he was trying to hide it exactly.

"You can be whatever you want, Jiminie," he says and turns off the monitor on the desk, calling it a day.

It's eight o'clock when Yoongi locks the doors and walks to his dorm, Jimin trailing not too far behind, complaining about the loss of food in his system. Yoongi takes a mental note to feed Jimin at some point of the night, and with that he tunes the younger out.

"You haven't visited home much," Jimin says, finally managing to catch Yoongi's attention. And Yoongi doesn't know how to respond to the word "home" anymore, because to be honest, he had no idea where it was. Yoongi's life had always been fast-paced that sometimes he forgot to look back and remember what made him what he was today, even if that someone isn't all that much to him.

"And..." Jimin's voice trails and looks up, making Yoongi notice the way the moonlight hits his jaw line. "They miss you."

Yoongi stays quiet.

"Your parents—they miss you. They said they want to see you," Jimin says, a tone of sensitivity tickling his words. It's been a while since Yoongi has visited his parents, always excusing himself with school work and proclaiming he was too busy to ever go back.

"I—," he says, a bit too quietly "—I didn't know you talked to my parents."

"I don't," Jimin responds rather quickly, "They came to me," he explains, and suddenly Yoongi feels guilty. So he keeps his silence, not wanting to ponder upon the reason as to why he was practically avoiding his parents.

But Jimin knows more than to leave him alone.

"You know, hyung," he starts, "You can talk to me. You always have, I won't judge," he says, and it's so like Jimin to want to pull Yoongi out of the invisible bubble he made for himself.

"I know," is what Yoongi says, wanting to stop the conversation entirely, but no such luck.

"Did something happen between you and your parents?" he asks, nothing but concern spilling in his words as well as his eyes, making Yoongi build up so much courage not to look.

"It's not my parents." Yoongi gives up, he always does. "It's just—" he wonders what to say "—me, and so much more."

They're in front of Yoongi's dorm. The numbers 403 are engraved on the door, just about eye-level to Jimin. Yoongi lets them in using his keys, turning on the lights and plopping onto the couch with Jimin not far behind.

"They'd want you to talk about it." Jimin is the first to talk in the dorm.

"I don't think they're ready for it."

"You're their son, they'll have to deal with it someday, whatever it is," he mumbles the last part, and Yoongi gets it. Yoongi gets the hint that Jimin is just as curious as his parents.

"Jiminie," he says, catching the younger's attention. Their eyes are locked now, it makes the atmosphere tense, and the anticipation builds up. Yoongi gulps; his Adam's apple visibly rises and falls.

"I'm gay," Yoongi breathes out, and suddenly Jimin feels like he's in a sauna, feeling hot all over, and it's not because he just worked out. "And I'm afraid my parents will treat me differently if I tell them."

Yoongi expects Jimin to run away, disgusted that his best friend had told him what he did. He expects him to cut all ties with him. He expects Jimin to reject him. But Jimin doesn't, and it's awkward for a moment, as the silence overtakes the whole atmosphere. Honestly, Jimin doesn't know what to feel.

"Oh," he finally manages to say. And Yoongi, for a second, looks at him in disbelief.

"I am too," he says like it's the most casual thing to say. And it would be if he wasn't in this situation. It would be if Yoongi was just casually stating that he wanted pizza or some sort of fattening food that Jimin would regret eating the next day. But they aren't talking about fantasies of the majestic taste of cheese on bread; it's a completely different conversation.

If anyone were to ask Yoongi that he expected Jimin to react this way, he would've definitely said no. And he sort of doesn't, but seeing as Jimin's face is turning red, similar to the shade on his hair, Yoongi thinks that it might be real.

"Oh," is what he says, mimicking Jimin but not meaning to.

And he feels it again, the weight on his chest that first appeared that night in the closet, although this time, Jimin felt it too.

—

Yoongi felt like an idiot.

Five years ago, Yoongi was too scared to come out to his parents, as would any eighteen year old homoual, but, with some luck, Yoongi's parents accepted him whole-heartedly and didn't treat him any differently. They treated him like a normal person, because he is a normal person, and Yoongi is thankful that he had such luck. And that same luck has offered him a huge opportunity to publish his book at this big-shot publisher on the other side of the world.

It's weird, being out of college now, twenty-three years old, and soon going to head out of the country.

It's a bit terrifying; South Korea has always been his home, and it's all he knows. He can't imagine waking up and not seeing the plastic stars on his bedroom ceiling, with a different scenery out the window, with different people, with different food, different everything. But Yoongi is quite good at adjusting, what with all the moving he's done in Seoul alone, it's an actual miracle Jimin would still always end up on his doorstep no matter where he lived.

Jimin.

It's Jimin who's making him think twice.

Because in all these houses, in all the different closets they've made forts in, in every bed Yoongi's ever laid in, Jimin was there. In everything, Jimin was there. He still is, and Yoongi doesn't know if he'll be able to take it if he won't be.

It's been a struggle to actually come up to Jimin to say it, because saying it out loud to Jimin would make it look like he's actually going, which he is, he just can't believe it.

"What are you thinking about?" Jimin's voice fills the silence. They're in Yoongi's apartment on his bed. Jimin had just arrived, mouth filled with complains about college and how unfair this one professor gives out grades.

Yoongi likes this, just being with Jimin, he'd like for it to last a little bit longer.

"It's nothing," Yoongi lies, turning his body to bury his face into the pillows. Jimin lies beside him, back against the headboard.

"I doubt that." Jimin sees right through him.

Yoongi turns his head towards Jimin, his cheek still pressed against his pillows. Jimin's head is tilted, his tone filled with concern, and Yoongi wants to capture what he sees; Jimin's hair tinted in a light brown, covering one of his eyes, mouth slightly open. He looks beautiful, even after a full day filled with stress.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi starts, it isn't much, and it doesn't exactly explain anything, but it's a start.

"Why?" Jimin asks, his hand coming up to massage Yoongi's scalp.

"It's just—," Yoongi stops; because what he's about to say scares him. It scares him to be separated with Jimin.

And there he is, right next to him, eyes only looking towards the elder and nowhere else. He should just say it, but why can't he just say it? Why does Jimin have to be so special? Why does his heart feel like it's ripping out of his chest? Why is he so afraid to be without Jimin?

"I'm leaving," he says, and he sits up, pulling his legs towards his chest. The atmosphere is tense, and Yoongi so badly wants it to change.

"What?" Jimin nearly murmurs, a chuckle escapes his lips in disbelief. "To where?"

"I'm moving to America," Yoongi explains, feeling his heart drop to his stomach "There's this huge publishing company that I submitted my first manuscript to, and they accepted, so I'm moving to America," Yoongi gulps.

"H-How long will you be—?"

"I don't know," he says too quickly. "I'm sorry."

Jimin blinks; a wave of emotion hits him. He doesn't like it one bit.

If you're sorry, why are you still leaving? Jimin bites his words.

"I don't know what to say," he says, looking down and shaking his head.

He feels selfish, his best friend has a huge opportunity, one that he won't be able to get in thousands of different universes, but he doesn't want him to take it.

"I'm happy for you," he says, he chokes a bit at the end but Yoongi dismisses it.

"T-Thank you," Yoongi stutters, eyes not sparing a glance at Jimin.

He doesn't want it to be like this. He wants Jimin to confront him, ask him to stay, make him be his. But he doesn't, and reality hurts him so much.

It's quiet for a while; they sit there together, but not really. It's different somehow, even though they've been in this position many times before. And Jimin notices the way Yoongi doesn't look at him, like he's trying so hard to pretend that this isn't happening. And it's pathetic, it's completely pathetic that they are, because simple words that seem so selfish could change so much if they just said them, too afraid, and they find themselves to be fear's slaves that night.

"I'll miss you," Jimin says instead, quietly but it's loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

Yoongi lets himself look at Jimin now, seeing a half-smile and it breaks him. But no tears are shed, because Yoongi doesn't want it to be harder than it already is.

"I'll miss you, too," he says reluctantly, and hopes he isn't too obvious of his true feelings.

But it's Jimin, and Jimin's always been able to read Yoongi like he was an open book. He'll wait forever for Yoongi to let him know the words he's reading aren't just a bunch of gibberish only he understands.

—

Yoongi is different when he isn't with Jimin.

He's colder, less sensitive, and much less grounded. He doesn't think too well and he finds himself staring into space more often than not. It's not healthy, but then again Yoongi never cared for his health. Then comes Jimin, with open arms and wide smiles, equipped with the ability to somehow help Yoongi. As if Jimin is the only remedy to the incurable disease only Yoongi has. Almost like the other side of Yoongi, the kinder, gentler side, is only exclusive to Jimin.

And maybe it is, because Yoongi doesn't see much of the difference in his personality whether Jimin was absent or not. He'd always hoarded the mood of the stereotypical old man that shouts at noisy kids in the cinema whose default face is a scowl. In his mind, nothing drastic has changed. Except that it isn't like that at all and that possibly everything has changed.

He remembers the last night he spent with Jimin before moving here. Jimin's kind, encouraging words at his presence, almost as if Jimin had hidden them this entire time. He might've, Jimin knew all along that Yoongi wouldn't be able to pursue a career as successful as he wants his to be in the streets of Seoul. Not that literature wasn't very big back in Korea, it's just that once you've been offered to tell a story in a place where its voice can be heard and spread to a larger, possibly more appreciative community, who was Yoongi to say no? After all this was his dream, all those years ago he decided, in that tiny space of a castle made of blankets, that he wanted this. Even though his dream was slightly changed he still wanted this.

This, however, was nothing Yoongi expected.

He imagined pure bliss at the moment he first breathed in the air of the new country, excitement bubbling in his veins, a scream just begging to be voiced at the back of his throat. He imagined himself experiencing something akin to the joy of Christmas morning as a kid. For a moment he did; perhaps it was the first time he laid eyes on the tiny patches of grass beneath him, possibly 1000 meters below. He remembers himself smiling, happy to be where he was. And he is, Yoongi definitely is, but one cannot simply feel one emotion at a time. He's human after all, and humans have odd tendencies to be confusing.

But even Yoongi, a lover of all things fantasy and fictional, knows that imagination is just imagination, a simple figment planted in your mind to make something a little more interesting, a little more worth it.

There's the ghost of a fireworks display outside his apartment's window. Yoongi can almost smell the toxic smoke from where he laid down; eyes trained on his laptop once again as he fills a character's lines. It's New Year's Eve, or rather, New Year's Day, Yoongi decides as he sees a faint picture flashed on his muted television set that displayed a few kids jumping up and down in excitement and the countdown at zero. It looks like a replay from just a few minutes ago, hours maybe, because Yoongi didn't care much for time now. He blames it on jetlag, but who still gets jetlagged after one year at the same country?

His eyes playfully reach the television set, promptly seeing a bunch of people of all ages kissing each other, probably because of tradition (which Yoongi doesn't exactly agree with because who the hell kisses strangers just because a new year has come?). They look happy on screen, content even. He guesses some are lovers (or maybe people who drank too much) because some were more passionate than others. Either way, Yoongi has never felt more alone than ever. The bed feels colder, the space of his tiny, cramped apartment feels even more suffocating. It's silent despite the fact that there were probably thousands of people downstairs having a party with loud techno sounds and dub step songs as background music. He's alone, and for the very first time in the last years he's felt it. And boy, does it sting.

He saves his work on his laptop, placing it on the floor, noticing his clock display "3.26 AM".

It's probably seven the next day where he lives right now, the rush of the New Year still fresh in his blood. Yoongi doesn't doubt that Jimin isn't awake, he's always been the over-excited type; always jumping to conclusions rather than dealing with the painful processes. The one time Jimin didn't seem that way was when Yoongi told the news of him moving here. Something (something ridiculous) told him that Jimin stayed quiet that night because he was fighting back a thought. That he had something to say but refused to say it out loud, out of fear or perhaps doubt. Yoongi's not too sure, all he remembers is the look Jimin gave him, like he was begging, wanting something from him. And perhaps Yoongi knew what he wanted all along but never acted upon it.

Yoongi doesn't remember the last time he contacted the younger. He feels guilty, somehow, because Jimin is a friend, a friend he actually cares about, at least enough for him to not want to lose him. There's no real reason as to why he isn't talking to the younger, and he also didn't have intentions of doing so. It's just that when he thinks about Jimin, and the spark in those eyes Yoongi can't quite comprehend, he feels empty. Because Jimin was once the person that filled his hallow, lonely life and turned him complete. Jimin was, but Yoongi left, effectively causing the loneliness to seep in again, filling him in with cold air and unwelcoming hugs. Yoongi feels that way now, lying at his side attempting to sleep as he pushes these thoughts away from his head. He knows if he gets any deeper he's going to go insane, but he sort of has a story to write and a job to be done. And the characters in his story have been somewhat a replacement for Jimin, it's less effective but works nonetheless. It'd be hell for him to lose them too, fictional or not, it's essentially all he has.

He glances at his bedside table, the lamp was lazily still on, there's wrappers of candies lying on top of it and in the cluttered mess is also his phone left charging despite its 100% charged state. He mentally fights himself, stating the pros and cons of what he's about to do. But it's three in the morning and to hell with morals, because it's too late to dwell upon a thought for more than five minutes, not when the sun is about to come up in just a few short hours, signaling for another day. Days are harder than nights, he's busier and less relaxed, but he's more distracted, which is good. However he'd much rather stay at his apartment for hours to polish paragraph after paragraph than head over to his editor, Kim Seokjin, every afternoon.

He's sitting up now, legs bent at his knees as he hugs them tightly to his chest with one hand. The other hand is occupied with his phone. There's a message from Seokjin (probably wishing him a Happy New Year) that he ignores. His thumb hovers over a familiar green logo Yoongi remembers Jimin calling it a chatting app and telling him to download it so he wouldn't have to spend money if he wanted to talk to the younger whilst overseas. He presses it gingerly, moving his thumb over his very few contacts until he's greeted by the most familiar name.

"Hello?" Jimin squeaks from the other side of the line, voice seeming a little too small, even for Jimin. It sounded as if he was nearly surprised.

"Jimin?" Yoongi says, muscles tense as he realizes his actions.

There's a cough on the other side, then a few sounds that make it sound like Jimin was moving. "H-Hyung?"

Yoongi can feel the uncertainty slipping away from Jimin's tongue, it kills him a bit, that Jimin had to be surprised to get a call from Yoongi when it's the New Year. If it was any other couple of friends they would've called each other once the countdown reached zero.

But this was Yoongi and Jimin, and Yoongi isn't sure if he was still able to call Jimin his friend.

"Yeah, it's me," Yoongi says softly. His voice is in the tone of when he speaks to his editor because he's not sure whether to be formal or casual. It's just Jimin, but after all that just Jimin is the same Jimin Yoongi had practically ignored for nearly a year.

"Happy new year," he starts, feeling tense as he lays back into his bed, body sinking into the pristine white sheets that don't look even the slightest way alike to the ones he had at home, the dusty, overused, nearing-brown colored ones. He's reminded once again that he's not at home and that he's lonelier than ever.

"Happy new year to you too, hyung," Yoongi hopes that what he can hear is a smile on Jimin's face. It's faint, slightly crooked, judging by the tone of the younger's voice, but nonetheless a smile. If only Yoongi could see it again, the same smile with the crescent eyes and tiniest dimple on the cheek. If he were given the chance to see it again he would take it within a heartbeat.

Just imagining it fills the void again, he knows it'll be emptied by the time he wakes up tomorrow. But he's complete right now, at least he thinks he is, and that's enough for Yoongi to keep going, enough for him to remember why he was here in the first place.

—

New Year's Day isn't the only occasion where Yoongi calls Jimin. He calls on special days, like when Yoongi finally finishes writing a chapter and then they end up on the phone for an hour or so. There are also holidays like right now, where it's October thirteen in America and the next day in Korea. Jimin thought Yoongi had possibly forgotten but then realized the huge time difference between the two countries.

"Why would I forget the most important day of the most important person in my life?" Yoongi says playfully, occupying his hand with a pen, tapping it against his work desk.

Jimin blushes on the other side, thankful Yoongi isn't able to see him. He's lying on his bed, comfortably resting upon his arm behind his head. The other hand has his phone against his ear, there's a variety show his roommate, Taehyung, is watching on the TV screen as his background music. He tunes it out, however, wanting to hear his hyung's soothing voice.

"My birthday is not the most important day for me, thank you very much," he says back, fighting back a smile just begging to be spread on his lips.

"Ah, but it is for me," Yoongi replies, scribbling lines along the table with the capped pen.

At this, Jimin laughs, half out of embarrassment and half out of disbelief. He slides to his side, resting his head upon his hand and he stares at the open door.

"You're bluffing," he breathes out, watching Taehyung play with the remote control in the other room.

"Oh I never bluff, Park Jimin," it's the most joking Yoongi has done in a while.

Yes, you do, Jimin thinks with spite, but bites back his words.

"Yeah, right," he says instead, noticing Taehyung hadn't been wearing anything except a pair of boxers and a white t-shir