In which bathtubs comfort Yoongi more than a friend ever could.

---

October 29, 2012

 

The following Monday, Jimin swears that his ears are still ringing. He barely had a wink of sleep over the weekend, because behind closed eyelids he’d imagine himself in a sea of sweaty bodies all screaming at the top of their lungs to rap lyrics that made his throat dry. He’d stare up at the white ceiling of his bedroom, hand over his chest as he let out a deep sigh. Every time he thought about how untouchable Yoongi looked on stage, he could hear the blood rushing to his head.

 

Jimin really admires his hyung- no matter how many times Yoongi was averse to a strange high schooler calling him that. The confident way the rapper carried himself on stage and the way he laced rhymes together as they fell from his lips like poetry was amazing.

 

“You look like ,” Jungkook announces as the starry eyed teen enters the classroom.

 

He simply flashes a toothy grin as he takes his seat next to Jungkook. “Yoongi hyung is so cool,” Jimin practically let’s out in one breath.

 

Jimin doesn’t know how many times he’s called Yoongi ‘cool’, but he knows that it’s a lot.

 

Jungkook visibly shudders. “Okay, you’re obsession is starting to get a little creepy.”

 

“I’m not obsessed!” he retorts.

 

A sigh escapes Jungkook’s lips as he leans forward to rest his chin upon his open palm. “All you’ve done all week is drool over Yoongi hyung. If that’s not obsession, then shoot me.”

 

Jimin blushes. “I- I just think that he’s really cool.”

 

“He basically told you to off,” Jungkook states blankly.

 

“It’s because he’s shy,” Jimin says a little too confidently. “Hoseok hyung said so.”

 

Jungkook doesn’t know whether he should facepalm or laugh at his friends uncanny ability to be so freaking gullible. So instead he leans back in his chair and simply stares in disbelief. Jungkook knows that Jimin really is too sheltered for his own good, and he’s afraid that one day it’ll come back to bite him. Until then, Jungkook can only hope for the best.

 

“Hobi hyung invited us to a halloween party tomorrow,” Jungkook says after a moment. “It’s at their ty run down apartment downtown, but I’m sure it’ll be fun. It’s like a Halloween party, but without the costumes.”

 

Jimin looks very unsure. “I don’t know, Kookie… you know how my father feels about these things…”

 

“Yoongi hyung’s gonna be there.”

 

Park Jimin has never had such a sudden change of heart in his lifetime. “What time are we going?”

 

Jungkook grins at his quick response. “The party doesn’t start till eight, but we’ll probably get there around nine.”

 

“Why?”

 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “It’s called arriving fashionably late, Jiminie. All the cool people do it.”

 

Jimin doesn’t understand. His father had hammered it into him that punctuality was a necessity, and that only rude people arrived late. But Jimin just nods, because Jungkook is smart and smart people are never wrong.

 

“Also,” Jungkook gives his friend a pointed look. “Please spare me the second hand embarrassment this time. Just this once.”

 

“How did I embarrass you!” Jimin feels quite offended.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Jungkook ruffles his hair in disbelief. “Yoongi hyung would have tore you apart if I hadn’t intervened.”

 

“What are you talking about? We were having a perfect, civil-

 

“Just try to censor yourself for tonight, okay?” Jungkook cuts in.

 

Jimin frowns. Once again, he doesn’t understand what his best friend is saying. He had simply been relying what his father had said about ‘uneducated-trash-who-will-get-nowhere-in-life’.

 

Trash.

 

Jimin doesn’t like that word and Yoongi in the same sentence. So instead, he bites and tongue and nods once again. Jungkook is smart. He can never be wrong.

 

Jimin then thinks of how his father will take his request to go out with his friends on Halloween and can’t help but subconsciously flinch at the thought of it. He’d be understanding, right? After all, Jimin’s worked hard  in school all year, never letting his grades slip under that perfect A.

 

Jungkook notices the dark expression, and it doesn’t take much for him to figure out what Jimin’s thinking about. Jungkook has found throughout the years that his friend is someone who subconsciously displays his heart on his sleeves.

 

“Want to go get some ice cream after school?” Jungkook offers, snapping the dazed teen out of whatever dark thoughts he was having.

 

Jimin shoots an odd look. “It’s like thirty degrees out, Kookie.”

 

Jungkook shrugs. “Are you really going to let the weather stop you from enjoying delicious chocolate mint ice cream that just melts in your mouth?”

Jimin laughs at this, “touche my friend.”

 

For the moment Jungkook feels relieved that he can provide an impermanent distraction for his best friend. For the moment, he is glad that Jimin doesn’t have to think about that empty place he calls home.

 

October 30, 2012

 

For the past two days, Jimin has been trying to work up the courage to speak to his father. He had come home yesterday, the shaky question at the tip of his tongue, but Jimin only ended up swallowing his words when his father asked him if he was studying hard enough.

 

Jimin sighs, pencil dropping from his cramped fingers as he leans back in the chair to stretch his tense muscles. Another sigh is let out as he stares at the textbook and random notes scribbled down with unfocused eyes. Park Jimin royally at math, and the last thing he wants to do is stare at numbers for another three hours until his eyeballs fall right out their sockets. Especially when it’s half past six, and the teen finds himself glancing up at the clock every two seconds.

 

Maybe he can put off asking for another ten minutes (he’s told himself this for 2 hours now) but the world has never been kind to Jimin, because two seconds later, his mom is yelling for him to come down stairs. For the millionth time that day, he sighs.

 

Jimin has to practically drag himself out of the room, and when he finds his mom standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, he pauses. “Mom?”

 

“Your father wants to speak to you,” she informs in a thick accent. “He’s waiting in his study.”

 

If Jimin was nervous before, he was sure going to die now.

 

As if reading his mind, Mrs. Park offers up a comforting smile. “His mood is better than usual,” she reassures softly before turning and disappearing into the kitchen. Mrs. Park is kind. She’s kind and beautiful- the complete opposite of Jimin’s father.

 

Knowing better than to keep the man waiting, Jimin takes reluctant steps down the stairs, holding his breath the entire way.

 

Jimin’s not quite sure why he hesitates and stutters so much in front of his father. He doesn’t know why he can’t laugh with him the way he laughs with his mother. He doesn’t know why he avoids eye contact or why his heart feels heavy. It’s his own flesh and blood. It’s the man who had raised him and taught him everything he knew. Jimin knows that the way he feels towards his father, isn’t right. He knows from watching Jungkook interact with his own dad.

 

He feels ashamed of himself.

 

Jimin hesitates in front of the office door for what seems like an eternity before gently turning the doorknob with shaky hands and stepping in. The room is tidy, professional, and dimly lit. A dark mahogany desk is placed at the center, and that’s where Jimin finds his father, Mr. Park. His black hair was slicked back with reading glasses sitting loosely on the bridge of his nose. He flips through documents, black pen scribbling signatures in a rushed motion.

 

It takes a moment before Jimin finds his voice. “Abeoji, you called for me?”

 

“I did,” Mr. Park responds, not even sparing a glance at his son as he continues to flip through papers.

 

There’s a long moment of silence and Jimin feels like he’s suffocating. He hates these pauses that speak more than the terse exchanges between him and his father.

 

Mr. Park only ever speaks to Jimin in korean, claiming that tradition was important, and that his son would forget to respect his elders and form bad habits  if they let themselves give into American customs. It always made it harder for Jimin to learn english when he was younger. Then again, a lot of things had been difficult when he was a kid.

 

“How are your studies coming along? I hope you’ve been working hard.”

 

“They’re going fine, abeoji.” Jimin’s response is almost robotic. At this point, Jimin isn’t even surprised. Mr. Park had repeated the question nearly every time they spoke, and it had long ago started sounding like a broken record to the teen. “I study every day after school and make sure to pay attention in class and do extra credit assignments.”

 

Mr. Park grunts in what Jimin can only hope is approval. “That’s good.”

 

Another long moment of silence. The only sound being the ticking of the clock hung on the white wall and the rustling of papers.

 

Why won’t you look at me?

 

“Is there any other reason you called me, abeoji?” Jimin’s voice feels small in the dimly lit room.

 

“Ah, yes.” Mr. Park sets the pen down to flex his fingers before picking it back up. “There’s a charity event Saturday and I expect you to be there dressed appropriately. This is a very important moment for me and if things go well, my position as COO of the company is almost certain. This is also a moment for you to meet a nice girl from a well off family.”

 

Jimin blinks. “Why do I have to meet a girl..?”

 

“Because we need connections in order to secure the future of the company, and connections are built through marriage.”

 

Jimin hates the way his father’s words sound condescending, almost as if he was mocking his son for not knowing something so obvious. He also hates the talk of marriage, but he wouldn’t dare to object.

 

“O-of course.”

 

“Then you may leave.” Mr. Park’s words are cold, and while they may have hurt years ago, Jimin had long grown accustomed to his father’s speaking habits.

 

“Actually…” Jimin begins, the words falling from his lips laced with uncertainty. “Tonight is Halloween...so I was wondering… if it was okay to… I dunno...go out with Jungkook?”

 

This time Mr. Park looks up, and suddenly Jimin wishes that he hadn’t.

 

“You’re kidding, right?”

 

Jimin doesn’t answer.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mr. Park’s tone is rigid. “There’s no need to celebrate such a holiday. Dressing up and frollicking around the neighborhood is for children. This family has class, and I expect you not to embarrass me.”

 

“But abeoji, I study everyday and my grades are good. I’m practically guaranteed a spot at Harvard. Can I please just-

 

“Absolutely not.” The authoritative tone quickly has Jimin clamping his mouth shut. “If you have free time to act like a child, then use it to study.”

 

But I am a child, Jimin wants to say. But instead, he let’s out a shaky, “of course, sir.”

 

“You may leave now,” Mr. Park repeats; and this time, Jimin’s feet carry him out as quickly as possible.

 

Jimin doesn’t know how he makes it into his room so quickly, but his face feels hot and his heart heavy is heavy. His throat begins to tighten, so he leans his head against the door and takes a moment to collect himself in the uncomfortable silence.

 

Then, as if nothing was ever wrong to begin with, Jimin plasters his signature smile onto his face. “It’s fine,” he says to no one in particular as he moves to lay onto the large bed. “It’s not like I can’t see Yoongi hyung another time. Besides, father’s right. Halloween is a childish holiday.”

 

Jimin wasn’t good at lying to other people, but he was a master at fooling himself.

 

“Ah, I should sleep.”

 

But he doesn’t move. Jimin simply lays there with his arms behind his head, his mind tracing patterns onto the blank ceiling. He doesn’t know how long he remains like that, but at some point his phone rings. It takes a moment for Jimin to snap out of his trance, but when he does and his eyes scan over the caller ID, he feels something eating at his heart.

 

“Jiminie!” Jungkook greets before the teen can even get a word out. “I know that we’re supposed be to be fashionably late, but we still want to arrive while the party’s still going.”

 

“What?”

 

He can practically feel Jungkook’s eyeroll through the phone. “I’ve been waiting outside your house for the past fifteen minutes, dude! It’s eight forty five now.”

 

Oh,” Jimin responds lamely.

 

“Yeaaah, so if you can get your out here right now, that would be nice.”

 

Jimin’s silent for a moment, hesitant to tell his friend. “I’m sorry, Jungkook. I can’t go,” he finally answers.

 

“What?” this time it’s Jungkook’s turn to be dumbfounded.

 

Jimin laughs nervously, trying to keep his voice light. “I totally got lectured by my father when I asked if I could go.”

 

“Soooo, you’re not going?”

 

Jimin sighs once again.. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

This time it’s Jungkook’s turn to be silent.

 

“So you’re telling me that because your old man said no, you’re really not going?” the judgment in Jungkook’s tone is as clear as day.

 

“I’m not sure what else you want me to do,” Jimin mumbles.

 

“Just live a little!” Jungkook exclaims. “Stop being such a goody two shoes for once. I know that you really wanted to see, Yoongi hyung, so why let your grumpy old man stop you? It’s not like anyone will check on you anyway.”

 

Jimin knows that he’s right, but still can’t help but flinch.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook’s apology is quick. “I didn’t mean it like-

 

Jimin cuts him off, “no. You’re fine. Really. It’s not like what you’re saying is wrong.”

 

Silence.

 

“So...are you coming?” Jungkook asks.

 

Jimin presses his plump lips together as he contemplates for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt to sneak out just this once...plus he really wanted to see Yoongi. “Fine. I’ll sneak out the window. Be down in 5.”

 

Jungkook laughs. “Just like old times.”

 

Hitting the end button, Jimin hops out of bed and is quick to go through his closet to find attire for the party. What was he supposed to wear? A suit? Dress pants? The only parties that Jimin had ever gone to were the ones for the elites, where everything was black and white, and everyone walked around with fancy wine glasses in hand like they owned the place.

 

Judging by the fact that it was supposed to be at Hoseok’s house, Jimin went with casual. He takes his time picking an outfit out, hoping the fit in the crowd this time. When he’s finished, Jimin opens the window of his bedroom, peering down from the second floor.

 

Jimin whistles. The drop is quite long, and for a moment, he entertains himself with the thought of what could happen if he fell. Would his father really look at him then? But it’s only a passing thought like the headlights of a car. Jimin is quick to grab onto the branch of the tree that is conveniently placed next to his window and climbs down. For his small frame, Jimin was quite strong for his age.

 

Crouching, Jimin sneaks across the yard and makes a bolt for it when he sees Jungkook waiting for him a few houses down. He’s nearly out of breath when he gets there, figure hunched over and hands on his knees. When he eventually catches his breath, he straightens out, smile wide on his face.

 

Jungkook opens his mouth to greet him, but stops. Eyes narrowing, Jungkook all but facepalms. “What the are you wearing? You are not going to the party dressed like that, Jimin.”

 

Jimin blushes. “I figured it would be a casual party...so...I don’t know...if it’s really that bad…”

 

“No! No!” Jungkook says quickly with the wave of his hand. “It’s just that your outfit is really too amazing that it might draw too attention and make the other guys jealous!” His excuse is lame, but of course, Jimin completely falls for it.

 

“Really? I can climb back up and change then.”

 

Jungkook grabs the teens arm before he can take a step. “It’s okay. I knew this was going to happen, so I brought an outfit for you. You can change in the car.”

 

Jungkook watches the way Jimin’s eyes gleam in appreciation under the moonlight and almost wants to hug the boy for being so god dang pure.

 

“Thanks, Kookie. You’re the best!”

 

Jungkook snorts. “I know I am. We should really get going though. Hobi hyung won’t stop sending me texts asking if we’re coming. He’s so god damn clingy.”

 

Jimin learns that Mrs. Jeon let Jungkook use the BMW for the night, and Jimin can’t help but feel giddy the entire car ride. He stares out the window with his face pressed against the glass, watching the city pass by in a blur. It had been so long since he had done something rebellious, and Jimin felt exhilarated.

 

Twenty minutes later, Jungkook parks near a grocery store before turning off the car. He answers Jimin’s puzzled look with, “we’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s only five minutes from here.”

 

Jimin’s not sure why Jungkook parked so far away, but the reason becomes apparent a few blocks later when they arrive in the less desirable part of town. Jimin’s eyes dart around the disorderly neighborhood and he can’t help but start to feel nervous. Jungkook simply gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze in response. “It’s okay, Jiminie. We’re almost there.”

 

Jimin’s not sure if this is a good idea anymore, but continues forth regardless. If Jungkook said that it was going to be okay, then it was going to be okay. Because Jungkook was smart, and smart people were never wrong.

 

They arrive at a small yellow house not too long after. The color is dull, the paint is peeling, and the driveway cracked. There are cars parked haphazardly and a few people in the yard with red cups in their hands. Jimin can hear the bass coming from the house, and there’s no attempt at masking the loudness of it all. Jimin practically latches onto Jungkook’s side as he leads them inside the house.

 

The first thing that hits Jimin as he walks through the front door is the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, and he almost backpedals, but Jungkook seemingly read his mind and had a strong grip on the teen.

 

“Relax,” he whispers in Jimin’s ear.

 

But in such an unfamiliar environment that he was taught to stay away from his entire life, Jimin finds it hard to relax. It’s all very messy, and he can’t help but let out a shaky breath because Jimin doesn’t do messy.  

 

Jungkook leads the nervous brunette through the crowd, muttering apologies as they go. After what feels like an eternity, they make it to the other side.

 

Hoseok sits on the couch playing poker with some people, and Yoongi rests on the far end against the arm, beer bottle in head as he stares blankly into space.

 

“Hobi hyung!” Jungkook calls, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the music.

 

Hoseok’s head snaps up. As soon as he spots the two, he breaks out into a wide grin. “Jungkookie! My cutie, Jimin! You guys made it!” Once again, Jimin couldn’t help but feel warm at the sight of his bright new friend. “Come sit here!” Before Jimin could even protest, Hoseok had pulled him around the table to sit down on the couch. Right next to Yoongi.

 

Hoseok begins to talk animatedly, asking Jimin if he wants to join their game of poker, to which Jimin politely declines. Jungkook accepts the offer enthusiastically, with the promise that he’ll crush everyone and make them strip down to their underwear.

 

Jimin doesn’t know what to say, or exactly what he’s supposed to do. It’s not as if he’s socially awkward, Jimin knows that he isn’t. His hyperactiveness nearly rivaled Hoseok, and he had always found it easy to start conversations. But in this strange disorganized place that smelled like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, Jimin couldn’t help but feel awkward. He sat up straight, hands folded neatly in his lap as he scrutinized the crowd, stealing glances at Yoongi when he could. Any other time he would have been eager to start conversation with the rapper, but in this situation he didn’t know exactly what to say. Besides, watching Yoongi, the teen noticed that he seemed...out of it? Staring at nothing in particular, not speaking a word or even acknowledging Jimin’s presence in the slightest. The minutes ticked by and Jimin began fidgeting with his hands as he stared down at them, trying to think of ways to feel less awkward and start conversation.

 

“Here.”

 

A red cup with an unknown dark liquid inside was shoved in his face. Jimin blinks in confusion, looking up to find that it was Yoongi who had offered him the cup. Not quite sure what to do, Jimin just stares.

 

Yoongi clenches his jaw, shooting Jimin a look of irritation before averting his gaze. “You look ing awkward and I’m tired of seeing you fidget every two seconds.”

 

Once again, Jimin merely blinks as he tries to conjure some sort of coherent sentence. “I...I don’t…” Jimin knew that if his parents ever found out that he ever touched any kind of drug, they would murder him and then send his corpse back to Korea.

 

“Why did you come if you aren’t even going to try and enjoy yourself?” Yoongi growls. “Having such a sulky kid sitting beside me is totally killing my mood. Drink.”

 

“Isn’t this peer pressure?” Jimin asks a little too bluntly.

 

“Peer-” Yoongi spares him another glance, disbelief playing across his pale features. “ing peer pressure my . You come to these parties to stupid illegal like drink and smoke underaged, kid.”

 

Just live a little.

 

Jungkook’s words ring in Jimin’s head and he finds himself taking the cup out of Yoongi’s hand with a dimpled smile. “Thanks hyung.”

 

Yoongi simply ignores him, turning back to stare blankly ahead and sip at his beer.

 

It isn’t long until he gets up wordlessly and disappears into the crowd.

 

Jimin stares after him with pursed lips for a moment before looking back down at the cup. He thinks about passing it onto Hoseok who’s intensely focused on the poker match, but hesitates.

 

Yoongi hyung gave me this.

 

The thought of Yoongi giving him anything makes Jimin smile even wider. This was basically his first present from Yoongi. Of course it really wasn’t, and Jimin really was just overthinking the entire situation, but nothing changed Park Jimin’s mind whenever his heart was already set on something. Right now that something being doing something very illegal and uncharacteristic of himself.

 

Jimin brings the cup up to his lips and scrunches his nose at the smell.

 

Well, here goes nothing.

 

The first sip makes him gag a bit. He’s not quite sure what he’s drinking, but it burns his throat and tastes awful. He hates the feeling of it on his tongue, but finds himself taking a second sip.

 

Yoongi hyung gave this to me, Jimin reminds himself.

 

And then a third sip, and a fourth, and so on, repeating the mantra in his head like some sort of chant.

 

“Park Jimin!”

 

Jimin jumps, completely startled by the way Jungkook had yelled his name. He brings the almost empty cup away from his lips and let’s out a foul tasting burp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands.

 

“What?”

 

Jungkook looks bewildered, “did you just down that entire thing?”

 

Hoseok turns to Jimin, tearing his attention away from the game. He too, looks at the teen in disbelief.

 

Jimin looks between the two. “Why are you guys staring at me like that?”

 

“Why would you do that!” Jungkook yells, and Jimin isn’t too sure if it’s a question.

 

He’s just as confused as everyone else. “Yoongi hyung told me to drink it, so I did.” Jimin doesn’t understand why Jungkook and Hoseok are acting like this.

 

Jungkook merely facepalms for the second time that night. “I give up.”

 

Hoseok laughs, slinging an arm around Jimin. “You realized that you just drank an entire cup of vodka mixed with cola in like, two minutes?”

 

Jimin nods, still not knowing what anyone is getting at.

 

Hoseok let’s out another laugh. “Wow, you’re really something. You’re totally gonna regret this in the morning.”

 

Jimin really wishes that someone would speak in a language that he understood, because he-

 

Oh.

 

Jimin wasn’t quite sure why his mind has went all fuzzy and his body feels tingly, but he was on cloud nine. He feels great. He feels on top of the ing world.

 

For the first time in his life, Park Jimin was completely and utterly wasted.

 

He was definitely going to regret this in the morning.

 

~

 

Yoongi would be lying if he said that he felt fine. All day he had felt quite off, although that was never anything new for him. He always felt off. So he hadn’t objected to the idea Hoseok had of throwing a party at their shared home.

 

Yoongi always felt miserable and off. He always felt like .

 

He was .

 

His head often felt like it was going to split open and his throat had a ty habit of closing on its own. Min Yoongi was a ing mess.

 

His life was a mess.

 

While he had agreed to the party, he hadn’t counted on Hoseok inviting so many people. But then again, Yoongi was dumb for not expecting less. Hoseok was a social butterfly that had many friends. How the two got along was beyond him.

 

The party had started alright. People began shuffling in and having drinks and casual conversations. But then ten people became twenty, and twenty became thirty, and the house was too ing small for so many people.

 

At first, Yoongi had really tried to ignore it. He ignored the chills and dizziness and blamed it on the alcohol (although he really hadn’t had that much to drink) and simply nodded to the music and chatted with a few familiar faces. But then the chills had begun to turn into a mixture of hot and cold, and Yoongi felt like he was about to die being pressed against the wall with too many people close to him, surrounding him. So he had excused himself and headed for the couch to sit before he nearly collapsed. His legs felt wobbly and weak, and the cheap leather of the couch  felt too hot pressed against his back.

 

Yoongi inhaled sharply, trying to focus his attention on a nonexistent speck of dirt to distract himself from the onslaught of panic he was beginning to feel. He began to drift off into the recesses of his mind so much that he barely noticed Jimin sitting next to him. When he finally did, Yoongi felt irritated.

 

He always felt irritated in Park Jimin’s presence.

 

The teen was uncharacteristically silent, so when Yoongi decided to spare him a single glance and found the boy fidgeting his hands and biting his bottom lip, the rapper felt even more irritated than usual.

 

The Jimin he had met last time was not awkward- fidgety yes, but not awkward. For some inexplicable reason, Yoongi didn’t like this.

 

He hated the kid. He really did. Jimin was loud and obnoxious and asked too many personal questions. He was clueless and dumb, and had all of the traits that Yoongi really hated.

 

But watching the boy being annoyingly silent beside him was nerve wracking, so Yoongi figured that the kid really just needed some alcohol to loosen up. Not that he really cared. He just disliked unsightly things.

 

But of course he regretted it once he had shoved the cup in front of Jimin and the kid had looked at him with all of that wonder and amazement that Yoongi really ing hated. What was so great about him anyways?

 

He demanded the boy to chill the out and drink, but Jimin just stared at him like an idiot before accusing the rapper of trying to peer pressure him.

 

Peer pressure? What the-

 

Yoongi had fumbled for some stupid excuse. His hands began to tremble and his heart thudded a little too loudly under Jimin’s scrutiny. Luckily, the kid had eventually taken it with a smile and a thank you, but Yoongi was already looking away, electing to stare blankly into the space in front of him and calm himself.

 

He could still feel Jimin’s eyes on him.

 

Yoongi’s hands began to feel clammy, so he wiped them against his jeans, jaws clenched tightly as his fists began to curl and clutch the fabric. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears now and the room was spinning too fast.

 

Was the living room always this hot? Did everyone feel just as miserable as he did at this moment?
 

Yoongi looked around, trying to find something that reassured him that he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. He just needed some validation.

 

Big mistake.

 

The house began to feel like it was shrinking, and Yoongi swore that everyone had begun closing in on him, moving towards him inch by inch. Trying to suffocate him. His eyes darted around the room, breath quickening as the panic in him began to rise.

 

.

 

He stood up quickly, vision swimming at the sudden motion. Before anyone could speak a single word to him, Yoongi was pushing past the crowd and stumbling down the hallway and towards the bathroom.

 

He twists the doorknob franticly, a mixture of panic and anger rising because he just can’t ing open it. Why won’t the door open? So he bangs at the door furiously, yelling for whoever it is to get the out because his senses are becoming overloaded and the last thing Yoongi wants to do is have an episode in the middle of the hallway.

 

The door opens. “Jeez dude, I was-

 

But Yoongi isn’t listening. He can’t listen. The voices are muffled. He roughly pushes past the stranger and slams the door behind him before he all but collapses on the cold tiled floor. He isn’t sure if he locked the door, but can only hope he did. The ty bathroom’s a mess and Yoongi’s sure that there’s piss stains on the floor, but he can’t bring himself to care because all he can feel is overwhelming fear and despair.

 

His chest hurts.

 

It all hurts so bad, and he can do nothing but claw at his throat because he can’t ing breathe and the anxiety is taking over. It feels like there’s an invisible force weighing down on him and there’s nothing he can do to push it off.

 

He hopes that he’s not wheezing too loudly for anyone to hear because he’s desperately gasping for breath as he crawls towards the bath tub. Yoongi isn’t sure how he does it, but he finds the strength to pull himself into the bath tub. His elbow hits the side of the tub and the pain shoots up his arm, but he welcomes it because the pain temporarily distracts him from his episode. He reaches to turn the shower knob on with shaky hands, and as the icy water hits him, he brings his knees up to his chest and holds himself. Yoongi holds himself into a little ball tightly, because he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, he’ll fall apart.

 

The cold water burns painfully against his skin, but it’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs to feel something to bring him back from the edge of insanity.

 

Yoongi hates himself. He really ing hates himself. Because out of all times to have an anxiety attack, it has to be at a ing party in his own house. It’s not as if the rapper if unfamiliar with parties, because he attends them with Hoseok all the ing time. He is very familiar with them.

 

It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing that his clothes are all soaked through and he’s hugging himself in a freaking bathtub all because a debilitating illness that he has no control over. Maybe that’s why he does music, because it’s the only time Yoongi feels like he has control over anything in his pathetic life.

 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when the bathroom door opens and a familiar doe eyed brunette stumbles in, Yoongi’s blood turns to ice.

 

For a moment they stare at each other in silence, the only sound being the elders shallow breaths, before Jimin stumbles in and slams the door rather loudly behind him. The sudden noise makes Yoongi jump.

 

Jimin leans against the sink (or more like slumps) as he stares down at Yoongi through squinted eyes, blinking fastly. “Yoongi hyung, why are you in the bath tub?” Jimin slurs.

 

Yoongi doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. There’s an invisible force stuck in his throat.

 

The silence doesn’t seem to peeve Jimin as he smiles. “Hyung, lemme join you.”

 

Yoongi’s confused. His brain is muddled and his ears are ringing. Everything is too loud, and before he knows it, a very drunk Park Jimin is sitting across from him in the bath tub. He mirrors Yoongi’s position, legs pulled him into his chest as he rests his head onto his knees.

 

“It’s cold,” Jimin says, but makes no move to leave.

 

Why is he here? He’s not supposed to be here.

 

Yoongi is horrified.

 

“Hyung,” Jimin starts. “I know you don’t like me, but I really like you.” He smiles cheesily, putting his thumbs up. “You’re the coolest in my eyes.”

 

Yoongi notices the way the water makes Jimin’s hair cling to his face. He notices the way coffee colored eyes disappear into crescents as Jimin flashes a wide smile that shows all of his perfectly white teeth. He notices plump pink lips and prominent dimples. He notices all of this and clings onto it. He clings onto it so tightly because he’s afraid that he’ll disappear and the blackness will swallow him whole.

 

Or is he afraid that Jimin will disappear?

 

Yoongi doesn’t know, but he clings to it for dear life and squeezes his eyelids closed shut.

 

One.

 

Deep breath in.

 

Two.

 

Deep breath out.

 

Repeat this step as many times as it takes.

 

Three

 

Open your eyes.

 

The first thing he sees is Jimin staring back at him curiously, head tilted as he hums a tune to himself.

 

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi hates how weak his voice sounds.

 

Jimin laughs, and all Yoongi can think about is how beautiful it sounds. Jimin’s laughter replaces the ringing in his ears.

 

“Tha’s what I shudda be askin’ you silly!” the teen slurs in response.

 

“Why do you keep following me?” Yoongi mumbles.

 

“Cuz I like ya!”

 

Stop it.

 

“Leave me alone, Park Jimin.” Yoongi’s attempt at a demand falls short, because there is only desperation in his voice. Desperation and aching loneliness.

 

Jimin scoots closer until their knees are touching, and the contact sends a wave of warmth through the rapper, even through wet clothes.

 

“Don’ wanna.” Jimin scrunches his nose, and Yoongi can’t help but be enamored by the small action.

 

“You’re weird.”

 

“So are you.”

 

And Yoongi laughs. He laughs and laughs until his stomach hurts because this is all too funny and he can’t believe that he’s soaked through in the bathtub while a party is going on just outside the door with Park Jimin out of all people. He laughs, because the person he hates saw him at his weakest moment. He laughs because he clung onto the person he hates like a lifeline. He laughs because the person he hates saved him from himself, and the stupidly drunk and naturally oblivious Jimin didn’t even notice. He laughs, and then he cries. Yoongi cries in front of Jimin, but he’s sure that the teen doesn’t notice because his tears are blending in with the water and he’s already been trembling the entire time.

 

He silently cries as their knees touch and Jimin continues to hum a soft tone that somehow soothes his pathetic self. He’s just a weak person pretending to be strong and it’s exhausting.

 

“I really hate you, Park Jimin,” Yoongi says, hoping that his voice isn’t shaking.

 

Jimin simply smiles, kind eyes once again disappearing into crescents. “I know, hyung. But I really like ya, so thas’ k.”

 

The bathroom door is swung open before Yoongi can even respond, revealing a tipsy Hoseok with Jungkook peering over his shoulders. He takes in the sight of the two teenagers sitting in the bathtub with the shower running and his face goes through a range of emotions. First confusion, then disbelief, then anger mixed with confusion and disbelief.

 

“What the hell are you two doing in here?! The party’s been over for the past thirty minutes and we had begun to thought that Jimin had stumbled off drunk and died somewhere! I mean, Yoongi, you have a habit of wandering, so I really didn’t care about you, but-” Hoseok pauses his rant, running his fingers through his hair before sighing. “You two are soaked! Yoongi, your lips are freaking blue, dude! Holy ! Jungkook, help me get these two s out of here!”

 

Jimin merely bursts into a fit of laughter, lips stretching into a wide grin, and Yoongi simply stares unabashed.

 

Once again, Jimin’s smile is blindingly beautiful, and Yoongi can’t help but wonder if it’s okay for him to have a little light in his life. If it’s okay for him to feel okay again.  

 

The kid is pure, oblivious, stupid, loud, has the habit of saying the wrong things, and is just plain obnoxious.

 

But Yoongi thinks that maybe, just maybe...he doesn’t hate Park Jimin.

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Just a reminder that feedback is greatly appreciated and is what encourages me to write more!