Some people have that kind of smile – the one that transforms any corny joke into something worth laughing at, the one that makes blunt food taste better, the one that you spot across the room and, even if it’s not directed at you, it still lifts a heavy weight off your chest and you find yourself smiling too. A smile that can communicate better than a thousand words, a smile full of life. Some people have that kind of smile that is reminiscent of home, that makes you feel like you belong. Park Jimin is one of those people.

Jimin says he's a positive person, that negative comments don't faze him easily. He says he confronts every bad situation with a big smile and bigger determination Jimin says, Jimin says... But Taehyung knows better. He can tell right away when his best friend's smile is genuine and when he's forcing himself to appear happy. He knows the difference between the easy idol smile (friendly and effortless, the result of hours spend in front of a mirror grimacing to yourself) and the wide, spontaneous grin, the one that usually appears when Jimin gets praised or when they've won another award. Taehyung could write essays on the sinful smirk that has become indispensable to Jimin's stage persona, the tight-lipped smile that he offers instead of an answer to rude MCs and their stupid questions, the curl of Jimin's lips when Jungkook does something cute and it's so fond that Taehyung melts inside. And Taehyung feels special because he's the only one who knows how easily Jimin smiles in the wee hours of dawn, when they're both exhausted from hours upon hours of practice and on the brink of passing out and Taehyung tiredly cracks jokes and silly puns as he's lying next to him, his Jiminnie, just to see him smile.

Jimin’s smile is condensed sunshine. Taehyung wants to liquefy it and drink it up, it’ll taste better than any energy drink, he’s sure of it. Jimin’s smile is like an upbeat swing song, like a freshly baked lemon tart, like a pineapple flavoured boba exploding in your mouth, like newborn spring grass. The analogies make perfect sense in Taehyung’s mind and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise, especially bratty maknaes. When Jimin smiles, the whole world stops and stares for a while, and Taehyung is lowkey offended that he didn’t write that song so that he could dedicate it to his friend.

They’re at a fansign event when Taehyung coos at the boy sitting next to him, calling him a marshmallow and pinching his cheeks. Jimin giggles half in amusement, half in mild disbelief, all bunched cheeks and an eye-smile that can melt icebergs. Taehyung adores the subtle bashfulness and latches onto Jimin’s arm, pressing his face against the other boy’s cheek and the lined-up fans’ cameras go crazy. “Yah, let me breathe,” protests Jimin as he turns to face him, still smiling (always smiling). Taehyung holds on tighter and widens his eyes in a puppy-eye attempt. From that close he can count the boy’s eyelashes, or his nose, or headbutt him, or something equally as random. He’s so close and Taehyung can feel his chest swell, painfully good and so damn right. (there’s a tiny part inside him that screams at him that this is all fanservice, don’t force a meaning to it that benefits only him).

Jimin is the whole world and Taehyung thinks he’s the luckiest person in it when he can be the reason that Jimin smiles.

The rest of the group tease them from time to time for their closeness (especially Jungkook, but Taehyung suspects that the youngest feels a tiny bit entitled to everyone’s attention), and Jimin just giggles and shakes his head. Taehyung knows that there are no bad intentions behind those words, but he’s also aware of the fact that outside of their group, people are extremely prone to misunderstanding. They scrutinize their every move, crack their knuckles and pull the keyboard closer, unleash a stream of angry, insulting, mocking comments, threats masked as “jokes”, catapult hashtags to the trending of the day, demanding that someone leaves the groups or making fun of somebody else's looks, earning a twisted sense of satisfaction that they have the power to say whatever they want and it will be lost in the sea of mentions, in the digital vastness , without precautions, maybe without even anyone seeing.

But Jimin saw.

The time zone difference had messed up their sleeping hours. Taehyung had been trying to trick himself into believing he was tired after everything else had failed (a warm shower, hot cocoa, counting the squares on the hotel's checkered blanket), when a soft sound brings him out of his semi-lethargic state. He stands still and strains his ears to listen, a million scenarios running through his mind (could it be sasaengs who want to watch them sleep and steal their underwear, could it be human organs dealers who'll abduct and cut them open and leave them to bleed out on a ditch somewhere in this vast, foreign country?). The sound is muffled when it reaches Taehyung again and this time it doesn't stop. Taehyung pushes himself up and rests on his elbows, surer with each passing second that no one has broken in to kill them. He scans the hotel room quickly because paranoia isn't something he hoped to acquire ever but life as an idol tends to do that to a person. Finally, his eyes fall on the bed next to his, on the shaking form under the covers, and he's immediately on his feet.

“Jimin? What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Taehyung kneels on the carpet, right next to Jimin, and pulls the blanket off the boy, worried and anxious as he turns on the lamp on the bedside table. The next words die in his throat as he meets the other boy's gaze. Taehyung has seen Jimin crying before, out of frustration or because he missed his family, but this time is different. Jimin looks devastated, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot and Taehyung wonders how long the boy was crying before he heard him. His lips are swollen and there's a bit a blood trickling from where he must have bitten them to keep quiet. His phone is clutched tightly in one hand, so tight his knuckles are white, as white and ghostly as the sharp light that illuminates Jimin's broken features. Taehyung is taken aback.

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” he asks, reaching to clumsily wipe away the tears from Jimin's flushed cheeks. The boy's skin is too hot and he feels his forehead under his messy fringe. Jimin sobs and it racks Taehyung with pain and panic. Should he call the others? Seokjin would surely know what to do. He scrambles to stand up with promises of bringing water and hurriedly wets a towel in the bathroom with cool water, grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge and is by Jimin's side in record time. Setting the items on the bedside table, Taehyung then slides an arm under his back to help him sit up. “Here,” he murmurs and offers him the bottle, “drink up and then we can talk, yes?” Taehyung sits cross legged on the mattress, close to Jimin, he wants to be close. Jimin takes the bottle with a trembling hand and drinks. The phone is still in his other hand and Taehyung frowns. What could Jimin have possibly seen that unsettled him so much? “What happened Jiminnie, you're seriously freaking me out,” he coaxes as the boy's chest heaves with sobs. Jimin drains the bottle before attempting to speak up, nervously squeezing the plastic.

“I-I couldn't sleep, a-and I opened twitter a-and-” His breath catches and he shakes his head as Taehyung darts forward to do something, anything, hold him and calm him, find out what the hell is going on. He rubs Jimin's back soothingly and reaches for the wet cloth, placing it on the boy's forehead and telling him to rest back on the pillows. Jimin thankfully complies and doesn't resist when Taehyung gently takes the phone from his hand. There screen is filled with messages that all have the same hashtag and Taehyung is a bit lost in the beginning but after he refreshes they are translates automatically and he can read them.

Taehyung hasn't felt rage like this before. It runs in his veins hot and thick, rises to his lungs and wraps around his throat like a vice, threatening to blow up. His grip around the phone is so strong that the device may break.

Death threats.

Their mentions have gone crazy, retweeting and demanding stricter security measures but Taehyung can only focus on those few words: “Park Jimin dies on April 1st”. And it shouldn't be that big of a surprise because they've gone through this before. And yet this is different, because Jimin is different, because Jimin is the last person that deserves like that. The prospect of Jimin in danger makes Taehyung's blood run cold and his hands twitch with the urge to smack a up for playing with someone's life, with his Jimin's life.

“This is bull, what the .” He exits the app and drops the phone on the bed before climbing under the covers and hugging Jimin close, so close, to protect him, make him physically feel how much he means. “How could anybody say that about you, how can they be so hateful, ...” And Taehyung has tears prickling the corners of his eyes and he shouldn't let them fall, he needs to be strong for Jimin, shaken up Jimin, sweet beautiful caring talented Jimin, his best friend, his everything.

“Maybe we s-should cancel the concerts,” Jimin suggests sadly, prying the now lukewarm towel off his head and dropping it on the floor, but Taehyung only tightens his arms around the boy's smaller frame and rest his forehead on Jimin's. His red, tired eyes stare back at him, silently pleading. “No, we're stronger than this, we're not gonna let a deranged fan ruin what we shed literally blood, sweat and tears for,” he states and Jimin laughs a little at the unintended pun, weakly, but he's no longer crying and Taehyung is more motivated than ever to make him smile. “These people... they'll always gonna do like that, Jiminnie. They'll always say about our weight or our talent or whatever, but look where we got!” Jimin sniffs and nods, burying his face on Taehyung's neck. “I know... I was shocked,” he breathes, seemingly embarrassed of his reaction. Taehyung cradles his head and combs the knots in his hair away. “Of course you were shocked, they threatened to kill you.” And as soon as he says it the anger flares up again and Taehyung wants to scream and punch someone. He opts instead to wrap the blanket better around them and turns off the light. Jimin makes a distressed noise and clings on the other boy as close as it's physically possible. The fact that anybody walking in to a fansign or a concert could be a potential killer is haunting him. He doesn't want to have to live his life constantly suspecting every fan. He doesn't want his dream to cost him and his friends their lives. He doesn't want his family back in Korea to come across news like that, they already worry enough.

“We'll talk to the managers tomorrow,” Taehyung whispers in the dark and presses a kiss on the boy's temple, “and if anybody dares to hurt you I'll beat them up.” Jimin laughs again and the pain hasn't gotten away yet but at least Taehyung is with him. Taehyung, who could have for crying or taking stupid tweets seriously but had done none of that and Jimin is so so grateful. “Thank you,” he says simply, because that's how their relationship has been from the beginning, simple but fulfilling. Taehyung presses another kiss (and maybe he should stop himself there, it's getting dangerous, but Jimin is smiling and he cannot help himself for wanting to do it again and again) on the crown of Jimin's head and soon falls asleep, the steady rise and fall of Jimin's chest against his working better than hot cocoa could ever have.

It is the sad reality the they face situations like that in their everyday lives. But Taehyung would be damned if he let it stop him from living, from doing the job he loves the most alongside the people he loves the most. It is sad and frustrating but if he can at least be one of the reasons Jimin smiles then he needs nothing more. Jimin's smile is the most precious thing in the world and Taehyung vows that night to do anything in his power to keep it from disappearing. And maybe someday he'll be brave enough to explain just what the boy means to him. 

finally got around to write this, post-grad is kicking my >_> the ending could have been better but it's almost one a.m. and if I don't finish it now I know it'll take me months to find the motivation to touch it again so here!! hope you're as vmin trash as I am <3

(title by Semisonic's "Secret Smile")