“If you don’t shut up and stop sighing every few seconds I’m really going to kick you out of here. You aren’t even listening to me!” Xiu Ying tapped with his fingers on the table, obviously annoyed. Yoongi really needed to stop spacing out and cutting off conversations in the middle if he wanted to keep having contact with other human beings.

“I’m sorry Xiu, I don’t know why am I being like this. If you have work you can go, I’m going to stay for a bit longer.” Xiu Ying only sighed at how miserable his friend looked like and at how much he wanted to punch him and bring him back to reality.

“Why in the world don’t you just try calling him, you know, like people usually do when they miss other people.”
“Who?”

“Yoongi,” Xiu Ying only narrowed his eyes at Yoongi’s pathetic try of playing dumb “you know exactly ‘who’.”

“I don’t know his actual number… He had a rented phone while here with a Chinese number.”

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re saying that you spent almost two months with someone almost 24/7, fell for him hopelessly, and didn’t ask for his number? Man, to think I was feeling sorry for you.”

“He was supposed to leave in the end of September, how should have I known?! And what do you mean ‘fell for him’, it’s not true. I just…”

“You just hopelessly miss him and think about him all the time?”

“Y-yes.”

“Everything you do seems to remind you of him, even though it shouldn’t?”
“How do you-“

“That’s what humans feel when they grow attached to someone. ‘I haven’t fell for him’ my , you’re totally head over heels! Which might be good since you need someone to fix that emotionless face of yours.” If it was another day Yoongi would try to make Xiu Ying shut his sassy mouth for once but he didn’t now, he only sighed. For the two hundred and fiftieth time.

“He’s not here, he’s in another country and I know nothing but his name and face. Besides, it’s not like he left because he wanted to. It was urgent”

“This is not something Min Yoongi would say. The Min Yoongi I know wouldn’t try to make such whiny excuses and run away, but rather do his best and try. You ain’t even doing anything. And for the love of God would you pick that phone!? It’s been vibrating for the past ten minutes.” Phone?

Yoongi didn’t even feel the seven missed calls he had. Upon further inspection he saw they were from an unknown number, and that only meant those were probably some clients, but it was past 5pm already so he decided to just get back to them tomorrow, his work day was almost over already. Xiu Ying scolded him a bit more and Yoongi decided it was time to leave.

Yoongi was actually a terrible cook. He had to learn by himself, but somehow those recipes looked a lot easier when the cooks on TV did them, and surely didn’t look like those overcooked messiness Yoongi usually managed to do. God bless cup noodles. T

oday though, he decided to be a little festive and boiled two eggs along with that. While flipping through some channels, he kept glancing at his DSLR. It was there, beautiful as always, and Yoongi missed it a lot. He wanted to do what he was best at and feel satisfied with it, but he had to fight that feeling of incompleteness every time he saw the resulted photo on the screen. Ironically, his phone rang again and he decided to pick up in case a client had an urgent job, which could be an excuse for Yoongi to get to work again.

“Hello?” Yoongi said in almost correct Chinese, but he only heard some rustling noises. He frowned and shook his phone. He called out for the other few other times, but the only response he got was that noise, but just a short second before he hung up he heard a voice.

“Hyung?” Yoongi’s breath hitched. Was he now ever hearing things? He stood there with his hand on the phone, not moving or saying anything.
“Why is this thing making such noises.. Hello, Yoongi hyung, can you hear me?”

“J..Jimin?” it came out as barely a whisper, but his stomach was about to turn around and he didn’t have the strength to say it louder.

“Hyung? Did I get the number wrong again.. Damn it.” And Yoongi heard the line being cut. No, no, no, no, no, no not again. Yoongi’s hands were shaking, but he managed to try and call the number.

Public phone. Jimin had called from a public phone. Yoongi really punched the wall this time. It was the 21^st century, why couldn’t they connect? Why couldn’t Yoongi say anything, again? And who the hells calls from public phones?! Yoongi spent the entire night staring at his phone screen, ready to pick up the second he saw it calling. But nobody did. Of course it didn’t, he didn’t pick up seven times earlier.

“Whoa, are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in ages.”

“Xiu, he called.”

“Who?”

“What do you mean who, Jimin, Park Jimin called me.”

“Isn’t….that a good thing? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know Xiu, something was wrong with the connection and he thought he had called the wrong number. He called me from a stupid public phone and I can’t call him back. Xiu, what should I do, I really don’t want to miss my chance again and-“

“Calm down Yoongi. Where did he get your phone number from? Didn’t you say you never exchanged them?” Yoongi never thought about this. But it suddenly made sense to him, Jimin was always very considering and frankly smart; he, unlike Yoongi, actually wrote down his number. Yoongi felt a sharp pain in his chest and Xiu Ying could swear Yoongi was about to cry.

“It’s okay, you can go to your phone company and ask them if they could help you in any way.”

He kept talking but Yoongi wasn’t listening to him, he just left the café and tried fighting the traitor tears that he were kept inside ever since he left Seoul. Yoongi didn’t cry even once since then, but now his eyelids felt heavy and watery. And of course it was raining. He absentmindedly took a taxi and told the guy his address. There was no way the company could help him, the most they could do was track down the exact place of the phone cabin, but there were still 2096 kilometers between them and it was all Yoongi’s fault. When the taxi stopped in front of his apartment for some reason Yoongi couldn’t move his feet, he just stood there getting soaked by the pouring summer rain.

And then he started running, running with all of the strength his thin limbs possessed. He ran and ran and midways he realized he was going in the direction of the airport. When he couldn’t breathe anymore he took another taxi and frantically begged him to drive as fast as he could. Why? He didn’t know, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but his heart was telling him to try. It took them twenty minutes to get there and Yoongi used the strength he had left to run to the gates where passengers from Seoul were supposed to arrive from. The plane had arrived fifteen minutes ago. Yoongi kept running around, looking for a big hoodie and chestnut brown hair. He looked like he had just gotten out of some mental clinic with his wet and dirty clothes and messy hair but he didn’t care.

He wasn’t here. Jimin wasn’t anywhere in this airport. Why did Yoongi feel so disappointed? He got all excited and delusional by himself, of course Jimin wouldn’t just appear out of nowhere. Yoongi had to accept that he missed his chance. He scanned the floor again and decided he must go before the security guard kicks him out for acting like this. Damn, it wasn’t the time to cry, not here.


“Hyung? Yoongi hyung?” Yoongi stopped and completely froze. “Haha, it’s Yoongi hyung!”

The voice wasn’t a mistake or a halucination. It was the voice Yoongi had yearned to hear for so long and it suddenly felt so close. He felt someone tapping his shoulder and the second he turned around he felt his knees almost giving up.

“Whoa, did you have a fight with some angry homeless man or something? You’re a mess! I knew it wasn’t the wrong number since I carefully wrote it down few times, but since you didn’t pick up I thought you had forgotten about me.”

Park Jimin was right in front of him, giggling at how ridiculous Yoongi looked.

“Hyung, why are you crying?” But Yoongi kept sobbing, refusing to look into the younger’s eyes. He then felt the two arms that last embraced him, embrace him again.

“You look lame you know? I’m back.”

“I’m not crying you idiot. It’s raining outside. And why did you call from a public phone?! Why are you such an idiot? Why are you..” but he didn’t continue, he only buried his face in Jimin’s shoulder and let his arms go around the younger’s waist. Finally.

Park Jimin was now making pancakes, melting chocolate and warming up some coffee in some weird orange apron, while wearing a snapback, all in the same time. Which was probably normal in any other situation, but he was now in Yoongi’s apartment. And that strange orange apron was Yoongi’s. 

“Good morning.” Jimin smiled at still asleep Yoongi, because Yoongi was damn sure he was asleep and just dream.

“Why..”

“My grandma is as healthy as bull now! I didn’t say I won’t come back, did I?”

“You didn’t really say anything..”

“I know… and I’m sorry I didn’t contact you for so long, I just needed to be sure I can come back. I missed you.” Jimin mumbled and flipped another pancake.

“You’re back.”

“Yes, I’m back.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything, nor pressed the matter deeper, they simply ate their pancakes as if it was the most natural thing to do after a night like the previous one. But it didn’t matter. Yoongi felt alive.

They spent the day out, relying on Yoongi’s broken Chinese, wrong bus rides and complicated maps.  But they had fun, they talked non-stop, caught up on the last month and a half and Yoongi didn’t say anything when Jimin would hold his hand, even though he was acting like it was nothing. After way too much cakes and caffeinated drinks, visits at souvenir shops (since Jimin couldn’t bring anything back to his family) and long walks Yoongi invited Jimin at his apartment again, or at least until he found his dorm again before he restarted his dance classes.

“What happened to the project? You never told me.”

“Come see it yourself.”

“Can I?”

“After you, my lady” Yoongi mocked a gentleman voice and pointed towards the staircase of his apartment building. Jimin only scoffed and rolled his eyes, already walking towards them.

“Jimin.”

“What now-

And Yoongi kissed him. He slid his hand and placed it on the younger’s neck, adjusting the angle. He was gentle and slow, ready to be pushed away, but it didn’t happen. He actually felt Jimin smiling into the kiss and he pulled away, curious of the younger’s expression.

“I thought you would never do it.” And this time he was the one to reach out for Yoongi’s lips and bury his hands in his hair. Desire, eagerness, frustration, love, tears – the kiss tasted like all of those at once, but strangely it felt right for both of them and Yoongi thought for the first time that his next stop as a photographer might be South Korea. Busan to be exact. He didn’t know if he was ready to return there or try and meet his parents, probably not, probably all those thoughts were just the result of the ever so wanted kiss, he knew it would be a lot more complicated later. But all that mattered now was what was in front of him. He wasn’t going to miss his chance this time.

A/N And it's over ;~~~;  I really had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I sincerelly hope it's wasn't disappointing ;u; Thank you so, so, so much to anyone who read, subscribed and commented and on my work, I hope you don't regret it!
Last gif of this fic, which shall mark it's end ♥