“What do you think about Jeju Island?”

“Or would you prefer we travelled abroad instead?”

“Oh I know! We could go to Norway. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Across the table, Namjoon sat with his chin perched on one palm, eyes lovingly gazing at an overjoyed Seokjin. Ever since the younger had casually suggested they go on a vacation, the barista had been busy researching their destination, loading his entire apartment (and even the café’s storage) with tons of brochures and tourist maps. To be honest, if Namjoon had known it would make him this happy from the start, he would’ve definitely voiced said proposal much earlier.

“Anywhere you like, hyung.” Namjoon smiled, earning a frown from Seokjin who momentarily lowered the thick, hardcover book - “101 Best Places to Visit.” - he was reading. It was rather early, but since Namjoon made a surprise visit to the café just a little after Seokjin clocked in, he figured he could grasp the opportunity to discuss about their holiday; perhaps even have the younger offer more opinion considering how he never does.

“Yah,” Seokjin pouted, “If you don’t say anything, I’ll decide for us to go to Mars.”

“And I’ll prepare the rockets then.” With his cheeks slightly puffed and redden, it was impossible for Namjoon to not laugh at Seokjin. Surely he knew by now that what they were doing, where they were going, does not matter to Namjoon as long as they are together. And yes, though Seokjin knew said fact very well, still he wished Namjoon would be a little more selfish sometimes;

Since Namjoon always gave, but never takes.

The defeated barista sighed with a grin, “You’re impossible sometimes. Tell me again, why do I love you so much?”

“I really don’t know,” Namjoon’s lips curved upwards as their gaze met, “but I thank god you do. It’s a miracle you fell for such a weirdo.”

All Seokjin could offer was a hearty laugh, “It takes one to love one.” But it was more than enough.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” The younger scratched his chin as he spoke, “We coul-”

Namjoon’s sentence was left hanging as his phone – which was laid abandoned on the table - vibrated for the umpteenth time the past hour, leaving Seokjin to wonder just what was the emergency; and why wasn’t he picking up his phone. As if the call didn’t exist, Namjoon eyed the screen once before reaching forward to cancel it.

“Aren’t you going to pick up?” Seokjin questioned; again. But Namjoon merely shrugged, taking a sip of his black coffee before replying.

“Nah, it’s nothing important.”

27 missed calls seems pretty important to me; Seokjin thought. Somebody must be dying. But Seokjin decided to swallow his remark instead as he returned his attention back to his momentarily forgotten book.

Truth be told, Namjoon’s secretary was probably going to murder him. Sneaking out of the office and skipping out on a meeting with the board of directors, leaving behind only a note which had ‘Gone for a bit :)’ scribbled on it for others to find when they came frantically rushing into his office was probably not a good idea; but really, how could he start his day without seeing Seokjin first? Even if it was only for an hour, still it was worth it.

Namjoon doesn’t miss the way Seokjin’s facial expression contorts with concentration as he thought hard, determined to make their trip a success. Unconsciously, Namjoon reached a hand forward, gently prying Seokjin’s hand off the book to lace their fingers together while giving him a gummy smile – one that always, always made Seokjin return one.

Time was insufficient for Namjoon, considering how he had to spend it equally between being a young adult, a son, a future CEO of his family business, and recently – a lover too. The poor lad was sleep deprived, over dependent on caffeine to keep himself going with all the papers he had to go through every day. But still Seokjin would never fail to be top of his list.

Namjoon was grateful for all he had. But it was rare, precious moments like these that he wished he was just an ordinary twenty-three year old. Then he would be able to spend every second of his day with Seokjin.

As the sun started to rise, the jingle of the bell was heard as the doors creaked open. And a tired, worn-out looking Min Yoongi involuntarily dragged his heavy-weighted steps into the café; ready to punch anyone who came too close as a scowl was permanently carved on his face. It was a damn Sunday, and still he had to work.

Just how amazing is his life? Yoongi huffed.

“Morning Yoongi,” Seokjin whirled slightly and chirped. The mint-haired male would have snorted if it weren’t because he respected the older barista dearly, thus settling for a nod. The younger robotically clocked in, unaware of the duo who were seated at the table. “Rough night?”

“Yeah, sort of.” The younger answered softly, rubbing his eyes in attempt to dispel the sleepiness in them. Just why his neighbours would want to have a karaoke session at 2am in the morning was beyond Yoongi’s comprehension. All he knew was that restraining himself from knocking on their door and punching them in the face was difficult. Still he applaud his effort, seeing how he only resorted to giving them the stink eye on his way out to work and they were still alive; for now.

Dropping his bag onto the counter, Yoongi turned to face Seokjin as he was about to question the older as to why was he in so early, but halted upon realising the barista was accompanied by another. The question didn’t seem necessary then. As soon as Yoongi’s lazy gaze fell on Namjoon, there was an odd glint that flashed across his eyes as they widened by a cubic millimetre – in which for Yoongi, was equivalent to a regular person gasping in surprise. The moment lasted for a mere second, but it was long enough for Seokjin to notice and realised it was the look of a mixture of astonishment, incredibility and…recognition.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin coughed, smiling, “This is Namjoon. Namjoon, Yoongi.” The barista motioned between both of them and carefully studied their respective expressions. As expected – being one used to offering pleasantries when the situation deems it necessary – Namjoon stood, gave him a polite smile and nodded once.

“Nice to meet you,” He did not offer his hand though.

Yoongi wasn’t eager for a handshake anyways, “Yeah.” Upon gaining knowledge that Namjoon and Seokjin are dating, Seokjin half expected the younger to tease with his usual mischievous grin, demand that they treated him to a meal considering how he had a fair share of “helping”, and maybe even blurt out the most embarrassing moments of the barista out to Namjoon; but Yoongi settled for a monotonous ‘oh’ instead.

“You look tired.” Seokjin’s tone taut with worry as he walked over, “Do you want to take the day off?”

“No.” Yoongi replied with eyes warily darting back and forth between him…and Namjoon.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine, hyung.” Finally, in order to dismiss his concern, Yoongi offered his usual, lazy grin before waving his hand. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night thanks to my neighbours who are complete fuc-“ He coughed, “I mean, idiots.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” With lips pursed, the older’s features eventually relaxed as he gently ruffled Yoongi’s hair – an act that annoyed the latter to no end, though never once did he ever actually stopped Seokjin from messing his mint-green locks. “I don’t want you fainting, okay?”

“Roger that,” The younger offered a nod, before turning against them to walk towards the kitchens (where mountains of dishes and supplies were waiting for him to attend to). “I’ll be heading inside then. You guys enjoy yourselves.” From the corner of his eyes, he could vaguely make out a certain male eyeing at him, as if studying his actions like how a threatened prey would - though Yoongi wasn’t certain who was feeling more like the prey; him or Namjoon.

“So,” Seokjin returned to his seat, the fact that Namjoon’s brows were slightly furrowed went unnoticed. “Have you thought about where we should go?”

“I told you, hyung,” Finally, the younger let out a chuckle, momentarily pushing the thoughts clouding his mind away. “Anywhere is fine.”

“You’re not going to make this any easier, are you?” The barista returned his enthusiasm with a sigh, though his lips couldn’t help curve at the words heard.

“Nop-“

For the 28^th time, Namjoon’s phone vibrated again, leaving his sentence hanging midway as he frowned at the device (contemplating the idea of smashing it). However, given how he had disappeared off radar for an hour without it appearing on national news, and how there was yet to be an elite team of private military barging in to ‘rescue’ him; Namjoon supposed he should be grateful.

“Sorry, I think I should really take this.” His smile was sheepish, and Seokjin nodded in understanding. It was probably time to assure his panic-stricken secretary that no, he had not run away; and yes, he was planning on coming back in good time. The instant Namjoon picked up, a rush of agitated words which he couldn’t quite comprehend came blasting through the speakers, and he had to inch the phone away to prevent himself from going deaf. All he managed to grasp were: help, emergency, urgent, crisis, life and death, now.

“Right, right, I’ll be there.” As soon as Namjoon hung up, he turned to offer Seokjin a dejected, apologetic pout. “Sorry, hyung. It seems I’ll have to cut our date short.” He sighed.

“Something came up?” The barista shook his head, a gentle smile appearing.

And Namjoon felt the heavy rocks weighing him lifted, “Yeah, work. My boss is going crazy so I better head over to the office.” He laughed at the thought of the entire company running around like headless chickens. He’d be lucky there weren’t any fires that started amongst the chaos (like the time he forgot to mention he was making a quick trip to the convenience store across the street).

Chuckling, Seokjin gave the younger two thumbs up, “All the best, Namjoon. But don’t overwork yourself. And remember to take your meals.” It was worrying how Namjoon had the tendency to forget he is a regular human being when it came to work, though Seokjin wasn’t sure just what kind of work Namjoon does that left him without time for food - a fact he never asked, and the latter never shared.

“I won’t.” Namjoon beamed, with dimples visible under the light as he leaned forward and gave Seokjin a quick peck on the forehead – which caught the older by surprise since the furthest Namjoon ever attempted by far was holding hands. And even that the younger almost fainted while doing. “I-I’ll err-call you tonight. Bye, hyung.” The shy smiles appearing after on both their faces was a sight Seokjin was glad no one else was present to witness or he’d never live through the teasing looks and snickers.

The barista had been entirely fixated on Namjoon’s retreating back as he exited the café (more like clumsily knocking into tables and chairs while scrambling for his life), that he did not notice a certain male leaning against the kitchen doorframe, silently observing the duo with his lips pursed - a look of concern looming over his features.

……….

It was one winter day when Jimin is four that he came to realise what pain is - the heart quenching sensation that left him breathless and weeping in his mother’s embrace.

Jimin loathed, despised the burn he felt as he fell; small hands and knees scraping against the jagged pavement, bleeding while tears trickled down his chubby cheeks.

His mother soothed, comforted him. Physical wounds, she had whispered as he lay in her safe arms, wasn’t the greatest pain in the world.

Jimin did not understand then. But now he does.

“What do you want me to do?” A hoarse yell escaped his parted lips. But she merely stared blankly at him. It was supposed to be a vent of anger, yet he couldn’t help but sounded as if he was pleading; begging for an answer, for liberation.

If looks could kill, he would already be dead. Or maybe he is; inside.

Her eyes were void of any emotions as she turned her back against him. Jimin ran, desperately reaching for her but the ground caved in beneath him. And he fell.

The last thing he remembered hearing was his own scream.

Jimin bolted upward and instantly regretted it. The back of his head hurt real badly by the sudden motion, as if he had a freaking marching band parading around his brains with clashing cymbals. The blaring sun was up and Jimin was still wearing his jacket from the night before, thus leaving his back soaked with beads of sweat. Since when was the window next to his bed?  Flopping back down onto the pillows, the male massaged his aching temples. He had probably lain on his back all night, which explains the throbbing sensation in his head when he sat abruptly.

‘You’re alright…Breathe…It's just a stupid dream.’ Jimin chanted to himself as he caught his breath.

Turning to his side helped as the woozy sensation gradually subsided. Without the pounding going on in his head, Jimin realised his bed was exceptionally soft and comforta-wait a second, he was on a couch. Nevertheless, Jimin buried his face into the comfy pillows, running his fingers across the smooth surface he was resting on and oddly, he doesn’t remember his old, musty, creaky, pizza-stained coach that probably survived through world war two being so-

Oh god it wasn’t his couch, Jimin finally realised.

Both eyes fluttering open, the confused lad slowly sat up this time, taking in the sight of his surroundings. And just as predicted, he found himself on a black, luxurious-looking leather sofa that was impossible for him to ever afford with his measly part-time salary. Did the gods of fortune visit him last night? Or was he still dreaming? Pinching himself proved the latter was definitely not the case.

It was quiet, not like his own thin-walled apartment. No traffic noises, screaming neighbours and banging of doors. Even the walls seemed to be a light shade of blue instead of white, he wasn’t sure without his glasses; though the floor was definitely polished wood.

“W-what…” Jimin’s whisper was barely audible. But before he could demand for some answers, he felt himself accidently kicking a rather large object – a weirdly-shaped lump to be exact – and he yelped. Instincts told him to bolt, but the soft grunt heard assured Jimin that it was no monster; definitely a human at the very least.

Jungkook?

Jimin moved a little closer until he could poke at said person who appeared to be in deep slumber. And without doubt it was said male, causing Jimin to sigh in relief. Taking a few moments to let his memory refresh itself, JImin finally recalled unwillingly crashing at the younger’s apartment when he realised he had left his keys at home (and Kim freaking Taehyung was too busy in Lover-Land to answer his damn phone).

The duo had planned to have an ‘Iron Man’ movie marathon – in which Jungkook practically bounced in excitement much to Jimin’s surprise - but he must’ve fell asleep as soon as he rested against the sleep-inviting couch. Jungkook too, he supposed. The younger was curled up as Jimin occupied most of the large space.

Smiling to no one in particular, Jimin stood and stretched. His mouth was itched with thirst, but didn’t think it was polite for him to intrude into someone else’s kitchen without permission. His best friend had yet to reply any of his calls as he briefly glanced at his phone, so he figured Taehyung was probably still at Hoseok’s. Great, Jimin thought, he had no choice but to beg his landlord for a spare key then – in which an annoying lecture was bound to be included too of course.

“Hey,” Jimin nudged the still sleeping Jungkook gently, earning nothing but a soft snore. No matter how much the older pinched his nose, tugged on his hair, poked at his cheeks (that were exceptionally squishy surprisingly), Jungkook remained in a state of unconsciousness, leaving Jimin without choice but to give up on waking him. “Jungkook, come on. Jeez.”

“Five more minutes…mum…” The younger mumbled, showing absolutely no intention of waking anytime soon. Huffing, Jimin looked around for any apparatus that could deliver a sufficiently loud noise which would successfully shock even a dead elephant.

That was when he noticed that despite the spacious apartment of Jungkook’s, the room was filled to the brim with art supplies – canvases both blank and painted with breath-taking artwork, tons of photos stacked at one corner that Jimin thought deserved to be hung up instead, brushes of different sizes and bottles of paint in colours he didn’t knew existed sprawled across the floor.

‘Wow.’ Was all Jimin could offer. He was tempted to explore around, but really Jimin was far too polite to intrude (unlike Kim Taehyung). So he settled for borrowing a sharpie and some sticky notes laying around, scribbled a ‘thank you’ on it and stuck the note on Jungkook’s forehead instead, before sneakily taking his leave – mind dead set and eager for a hot shower when he reached home.

………..

“Oh, you’re back.”

After 31minutes 48seconds of pure torture from his landlord, Jimin finally gain possession of a spare key. And he was not expecting anyone to be in his apartment. To be more specific, Jimin wasn’t expecting Taehyung to be lounging on his coach, shoving mouthfuls of cereal – Jimin’s favourite strawberry cheesecake flavoured one which he stashed away somewhere safe – into his mouth with a look of pure surprise written all over.

“Where’d you go?” Taehyung swallowed, and Jimin’s heart clenched at the thought of him opening his precious box of cereal that the older was waiting for the right moment to, barbarically consuming it without even savouring the taste. But Jimin was a better man, he convinced himself, he could let it go. Flopping onto the couch, he joined his best friend and snatched the bowl over, leaving Taehyung to whine and grumble.

“Question is why are you here?” Jimin rolled his eyes - which were starting to tear as he felt the velvety goodness melt in his mouth, his taste buds singing a thousand praises to whoever invented said flavour. “Shouldn’t you be at Hoseok’s?” His brow quirked while questioning.

“Ah,” Taehyung’s gaze shifted awkwardly from the television to the ceiling, and back again, “I was but…I left before he woke up.”

“What?” Jimin gaped, “Dude, you just blew your golden chance of getting closer to him. Shouldn’t you, I don’t know-” The male made a gesture, “Stay and talk or something?”

“Seriously, Jimin? Stay and talk? What am I supposed to say? Oh hi, I-who happened to be an acquaintance-decided to stay and accompany you all night because I like you. Yeah great let’s just go get married now, shall we?” The look Taehyung threw Jimin was equivalent to a slap on the face, and Jimin admit it did sound pretty awkward if he had stayed. Jimin, for one, would never.

“Okay, fine.” The black-haired lad huffed, “But he does know you were there, right?”

“Of course not.” Taehyung looked baffled; as-if-Jimin-grew-a-third-head-and-declared-himself-vegetarian kind of bewilderment.

“I left no evidence of me ever being there,” An awkward shift of his body showed just how badly he didn’t want Hoseok to find out, “I err-did some pretty stupid things after all.”

“Let me guess, you took a picture of him while he was sleeping-” Jimin started.

Taehyung flinched.

“-and confessed, didn’t you?”

He flinched again; a little too obvious this time. Jackpot, Jimin snorted.

“Maybe.” The desire to bury himself alive taut in Taehyung’s voice proved JImin’s accusation valid. After all, Jimin knew him like the back of his hand by now. If he hadn’t done that, it wouldn’t be the normal Kim Taehyung anyways.

“You really gotta man up sometimes, Tae.” A sigh eluded from Jimin.

Taehyung wasn’t going to let Jimin have the pleasure of teasing him, “I don’t want to hear that from someone that can’t sleep without a night light.” And to his surprise, instead of retorting, Jimin looked taken aback instead as he contemplated the fact that he did, manage to fall asleep without one last night at Jungkook’s. And Jimin had always been extremely afraid of the dark.

“Jimin, you okay?” His best friend’s nudge sent a jolt, and Jimin quickly brushed the fleeting thought away.

“Anyways, don’t you think Hoseok would eventually find out someone was there when he talks to Yoongi?”

“Oh ,” Taehyung was starting to sweat, mentally smacking himself for leaving such an important detail out. He frantically rummaged through his backpack in search for his phone, thanking the heavens he remembered to badger Yoongi for his number. “This is bad, real bad. Do you think they've spoken already? I have to beg him not to te…ll.”

Taehyung's actions came to a halt.

“What?” Jimin questioned.

“I-I don’t…have my phone with me.” The whisper escaping his lips was heavy with despair, strangled; like the end of the world was about to arrive (and Taehyung didn’t even sound as desperate as such when he found out he had failed his semester). It was exceptionally disturbing to Jimin.

The other questioned once more, “Err-so?”

“I must have left it…at Hoseok’s.” Slowly, Taehyung turned his head to face a quizzical Jimin – who had a spoonful of cereal suspended midair as he waited for a further explanation.

“That’s perfect!” It took a second for Jimin to register his words, but he eventually exclaimed loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear, “Aww man it’s the perfect opportunity for you to start a conversation. Like both of you could-”

“No no no, Jimin.” Taehyung frantically shook his head, hands shot outwards to clutch onto Jimin’s forearms for dear life, “I left my phone at Hoseok’s.” He enunciated every word clearly and with care, “My phone.” Taehyung repeated. “Mine.”

“Ah,” It finally registered in Jimin’s mind that there was probably enough embarrassing texts between him and Taehyung, where 95% of their conversation was either the latter’s proclamation of love towards Hoseok, generally rants about any matters related to Hoseok. Once he even started an entire debate session of what Hoseok would think of their wedding (if it even happens) which Jimin ignored.

“Well it’s fine. I mean your phone has a passcode, right? The most he can see, if he does, is your lock-”

An imaginary switch clicked. And Taehyung’s face said it all.

“-screen.”

Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Tae, please don’t tell me…you used his picture as your wallpaper.” The desperation as Jimin whispered was choking, and Taehyung wished then he could be the one choked to death as he (though he didn’t want to) gave a prolonged...nod.

“Oh.” Said Jimin. “Oh.”

This can't be good.