Taehyung didn’t say anything when Jimin barged into his house yesterday. He didn’t ask any questions as he petted Jimin’s hair whilst her cried, nuzzling his face in the crook of his friend's neck and clutching the back of his shirt.

He let Jimin stay the night. They ate three bags of prawn chips and shared a beer can Taehyung’s father left behind in the fridge before leaving for his office on Jeju Island.

Taehyung is a good friend. The best friend. He understands Jimin enough to not ask, even if he must know what the problem is.

The next morning Jimin insist on going back to Yoongi’s apartment. He has a pounding headache, a palpitating heart and Taehyung’s over sized hoodie wrapped around his torso as he walks up the stairs. It’s around 10 a.m. Yoongi is still sleeping. He always gets up at 10:30. With a little luck, Jimin can sneak into the guest room without being noticed and then act like nothing happened for the rest of the day.    

Of course the idea makes no sense. How is he ever going to be able to forget what happened yesterday? Just because him and Taehyung didn’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

He can still feel Yoongi’s lips on his own, he can still feel the pressure of his hands on his lower back, and it . Because he hates Yoongi. Despises him. He probably only did that to spite him, Jimin realizes. Yoongi had leaned in first, hadn’t he?

Jimin shakes his head. He really needs to calm down. Stop thinking about it.

Maybe he needs a shower. An ice cold one, to cool down his hot and sticky skin.

He unlocks the door carefully, in a sharp breath as he sneaks into the hallway.

He’s met with the faint sound of hip hop music coming from the living room and a hard hitting smell of cigarettes. Which means Yoongi’s not alone. Or sleeping.

Jimin places his keys in the designated bowl, walking slowly and quietly across the hallway carpet. His shadow is long and thin, making himself feel small and chubby in comparison.

There’s a low hum of conversation in the livingroom. They don’t notice Jimin as he watches their backs, breathing agonisingly slow in order to stay quiet.

He plays with the hem of his shirt, listening to Yoongi and Namjoon, his brother’s best friend, sit on the couch and discussing the song playing from the portable speaker.

“There’s still something up with this verse…” Namjoon mumbles, tapping on the table along with the melody.

“I reckon it’s the bass. It’s too hollow.”

Yoongi’s voice is thick. He sounds more distraught than usual. It’s probably because of what happened yesterday. The thought alone makes Jimin’s face heat up. Yoongi’s obviously been up all night. Was the kiss that revolting to him?

Jimin clears his throat.

Yoongi jumps, head snapping around in Jimin’s direction. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth slowly, narrowing his eyes while letting his gaze skim up and down Jimin’s body.

“Where were you?” he asks quietly.

“You don’t smoke,” Jimin states. He sounds like an accusing toddler again.  

Yoongi his lower lip, looking away.

“I was at Taehyung’s place,” Jimin says before sneaking off to the guest room, not missing Namjoon’s wondering eyes.

As soon as the door is closed behind him, the music is on again. Jimin hadn’t even noticed it was off in the first place.

Jimin exhales, shoulders slumping and eyes falling shut. He throws himself on top of the bed, letting out a groan in frustration.

Why is Yoongi acting so normal then? The cigarettes and dark circles point otherwise.

He shakes his head. He just needs to forget this. Forget it ever happened and endure the last days of Christmas break, before he moves back in with his mother and classes start again.

He has to forget this. Because the butterflies in his stomach and the sudden craving for strong hands around his waist are worrying, to say the least.

-----

Yoongi’s step mother isn’t very likable. He knows she has good intentions, and has been through a lot, but in his opinion that’s no excuse. He doesn’t mind how she treats him, it’s more the way she rejects her own son that has his blood boiling. Jimin loves his mother, but Yoongi wishes he’d stop writing everything she does off as nothing.

Today, Yoongi is overjoyed when Ms Park calls him and says for him and Jimin to meet her at the same restaurant they were at the last time, when she’d said Jimin needed to stay at his place. Because he needs an excuse to talk to Jimin. And to get out of the house.

But then he realizes that Jimin’s mother probably wants her son back. And that they’re gonna have to sit through a lunch trying to act normal.

So maybe he’s not all that happy after all.

It’s cold in the livingroom. Yoongi had opened the window to air out all the smoke, since he knew how much it bugged Jimin. The younger hasn’t come out of his room yet. Yoongi assumes it’s because of the smell. But it could also be because he’s avoiding Yoongi. Jimin usually avoids Yoongi anyways, and after what happened yesterday he has a canon reason to.  

Yoongi gulps. What had happened yesterday?

Jimin had felt aggressive, yet passive in his hold. His lips were soft, and his teeth were sharp. His back and lower stomach were this mixture of muscle and chubbyness that felt unreal. His soft hands had grabbed Yoongi’s neck, played with the hair at his nape, pulled him closer. How could someone be so soft and fragile, yet so strong and combative? At the same time?

Yoongi buries his face in his hands. He needs to get Jimin out of his head. He needs to forget him before he goes crazy. If he doesn’t, Yoongi’s afraid that he might kiss Jimin another time. Because a part of him needs to taste him again. As if Jimin’s some sort of addiction, sweeter than sugar and hotter than chilli.

Once his breath calms down a little, he stands up from the couch, marching up to the closed door of the guest room.

Namjoon left an hour ago. His step mother called ten minutes ago. They need to be at the restaurant in thirty minutes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He knocks on the door, the sound loud in the suddenly evident silence.

There’s no answer.

He sighs. Should he just open the door? There’s no lock on it.

After a few more knocks, and no answer, Yoongi lets out a puff of air in frustration. He opens the door, stepping inside with an annoyed expression. One that softens considerably when he sees Jimin on the bed, lying on his side with his knees hugged close to his chest.

Yoongi bites his lip.

Just wake him up.

He walks up to his little brother’s sleeping form, placing his hand on the younger’s arm. It takes him a second too long to start shaking his body, his eyes only slightly fixed on Jimin’s adorable sleeping face. All chubby and a sliver of drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Wake up,” Yoongi grunts.

Jimin stirs, letting out a subconscious, nonual moan.  

Yoongi freezes. His mouth runs dry, heart rate picking up a little.