Part II
Your heart, My hold 

Yoongi bites back a sigh as he flops down into the open chair. His two companions exchange raised eyebrows but choose to say nothing. Hoseok instead pours a fresh glass of water and pushes it over. Yoongi drains it in one gulp and offers a grateful jerk of his head in thanks.

“So?” Seokjin inquires as he hands over the folded menu to Yoongi. Yoongi waves it off and simply flags down the closest waitress, rattling off a list of dishes and a drink.  The three of them come here so often that knowing what he wants is second nature.

Seokjin doesn’t let it go though. “You look tired,” he comments as Yoongi swipes back sweaty bangs and pours himself another glass.

Yoongi exhales harshly through gritted teeth. “I got hounded around by some brat all afternoon. Kept asking me for my number.”

Seokjin and Hoseok simultaneously snort.

Yoongi frowns. “Oi. It wasn’t funny. That kid has some endurance. Wouldn’t stop chasing me, even after I got on a bus.”

Hoseok coughs up the water he’s been drinking.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi growls and tosses his friend a handful of tissues. “Seriously.”

A lady with jet black hair tied back into an artful bun swings by with a bowl of beef and rice, laying it down with a side plate overflowing with kimchi.

Yoongi raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn’t this more than usual?”

The girl gives him a coy smile. “On the house,” she says and saunters off, apron strings swaying behind her.

Hoseok can’t help cracking up. “Look at you hyung, stealing hearts where ever you go.”

Yoongi glares at him for a good three seconds before his stomach decides food is more important that cursing Hoseok to an early untimely meeting with his nose and the front door of their apartment. But just as he shovels the first spoonful into his mouth, his phone buzzes loudly. A frown twitches on his face, but then it smoothens and Yoongi continues eating.

“Yoongi-” Seokjin starts, but Yoongi cuts him off with a look, takes out his phone and promptly switches it to silent mode. It however continues to vibrate violently every few seconds or so.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin says again, more firmly this time. “Is it that kid? It’s rude to be ignoring him like that.”

“You’re not the one with a hundred and fifty two ka-talk messages at the moment,” Yoongi says pointedly, then returns to his meal with vigor.

Hoseok’s mouth drops open. “A hundred and fifty two! Of what? Emoticons?”

Yoongi sighs and snatches up his phone. He keys in the pass pattern and offers his phone to Hoseok. Seokjin pops his head over Hoseok’s shoulder, curious.

Park Jiminnie
Friday, September 19^th, 2014

9.20PM – So how about tomorrow?

9.20PM – Tomorrow noon?

9.20PM – ???

9.20PM – Hyung?

9.20PM – Hyung???

9.20PM – Hyung? Are you ignoring me?

9.21PM – Don’t ignore me. That’s mean. That’s sad. T.T

9.21PM – TT.TT

9.21PM – Park Jiminnie is crying TT.TT

9.21PM – Hyuuuuuuuung. Pleeeeeeaaaaaseeeee TT.TT

Hoseok has to stifle another laugh. He lowers the phone to look at Yoongi’s dark expression as he finishes his kimchi off, prodding at the last dregs of sauce with his chopsticks. It just sets him off laughing again.

“He seems to really like you,” Seokjin comments in a neutral voice, fighting to keep the twitching of his lips and the smile off his face.

“Sure, whatever,” Yoongi says flatly as he contemplates ordering another bowl of kimchi. The waitress had seemed pretty eager to dish them out. “Believe what you want.”

“What’s he’s like?” Seokjin asks as another message pops up on the screen.

Yoongi’s shoulders slump. It’s karma. It must be. He’d been coming out of the Hongdae station when he had spotted him. A cute baby face and those baby lips. Too sweet, too innocent. A little and Yoongi wanted to wipe it right off his face. It was the corruptible kind that made Yoongi’s mouth dry and finger’s twitch. 

Urgh. It’s definitely karma.

His phone buzzes again as if in reminder.

“Just shut him up already would you,” Yoongi groans and buries his head in his arms. It’s dark and the material is thick wool, creating a comforting scratch against his cheeks. He’d like to bury himself in this and suffocate and die.

“Done,” Hoseok whistles and there’s a light tap as he puts down Yoongi’s phone next to his head.

“Done what?” Yoongi mumbles through the fabric.

“Your ka-talk problem.”

Yoongi pulls his head out of his arms for this. “Huh?”

Before Hoseok can clarify anything further, Yoongi’s phone buzzes. But this time it’s longer and patterened. Like when someone is trying to call him.

Yoongi’s hand shoots out to clumsily fumble for his phone, fingers grasping around the breadth of it and sliding across the screen.

“Yobsaeyo,” Yoongi yawns into the phone, eyes half open. Hoseok isn’t looking when his eyes do fly wide open because he’s too busy deciding on drinks, but he does hear the sound of Yoongi choking and yelling, “Hoseok, what the did you do?”

“Huh?” is all Hoseok can manage to say before Yoongi’s phone is shoved in his face. “Ow, hyung, my nose, please,” he says and pushes back the phone so that he can see the caller ID. There’s a ridiculously baby-faced guy staring back at him with tiny eyes and a blinding smile. Park Jimin, it says underneath the selca image. “Oh, is this the kid you were talking about?”

“Yes, this is that kid,” Yoongi hisses. “But that’s not the issue here. The issue is why is he calling me?”

There’s a tinny call from the phone. “Hyuuung, why aren’t you talking to me?  Noon at Sinchon right?”

“And,” Yoongi says with a gleam in his eyes directed right at Hoseok, “Why is he under the impression I’m going out with him tomorrow.”

“Umm,” Hoseok hedges, averting his eyes, “Maybe because I replied on your ka-talk to him that you are?”

“And,” Yoongi says in the beginning of a growl and the narrowing of eyes, “Who said you could do that?” 

Hoseok offers him a half-hearted smile. “Well you said to shut him up so-“

“Hoseok…” Yoongi snarls and the hand on the table curls into the beginnings of a fist.

“Now, now,” Seokjin intervenes quickly, water to Yoongi’s flammable nature. “This Park Jimin sounds like quite a sweet guy. Why don’t you give him a chance? Just one date?”

“Yeah hyung! Just one date.” The phone chirrups.

Yoongi groans. “Fine,” he says grudging, giving in and pulling the phone back to his ear. “Park Jimin, you got yourself one date. One o’clock, Sinchon station. Don’t be late.”

He ends the call before Jimin can say anything in response and lets the phone drop to the table.

“Urgh, urgh, urgh,” Yoongi moans and flags down the waitress to order another beer. “I am so blaming this on you two if it goes badly,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at the two of them. “If I die of over-aegyo tomorrow I plan to come back and haunt you two for the rest of your lives, mark my words.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin hums and hands over the bill to Yoongi. “So you won’t mind paying one last time as a final farewell right?”

Yoongi chucks the remainder of his beer over Seokjin’s head.

*

It’s twelve fifty and Jimin is already there waiting for him, all bright and chipper despite the afternoon sun that beats down on the cobbled streets. He’s dressed in a casual black sleeve and three quarter shorts with a snapback perched atop his head. He’s looks freaking cute and Yoongi wants to slam his head into the nearest brick wall. Karma.  

“Hey hyung!” Jimin chirps, spotting him somehow amongst the crowd and Yoongi can avoid this no longer.

“Hey kid,” he says, more out of courtesy than anything. “Right, so what do you want to do?”

“Wanna go watch a movie?” Jimin suggests.

Yoongi narrows his eyes. Test number one. “That depends,” he says with a promisingly growl to the end of his words. Jimin completely looks like the type to be into chickflicks and romance sob stories.

“The new Transformers film has been out for a few weeks. If we go now the cinema will be really empty and we can have it all to ourselves.”

Yoongi deflates. That’s not actually a bad plan of action. He hasn’t watched this one yet and a mish mash of giant robots, general city destruction and angst ridden mayhem doesn’t sound like it will put him to sleep. Plus, he hates crowded and chattering cinemas.

“Fine,” he says and Jimin grins in victory.

“Good!” He takes out two white slips from the back of his jean pockets. “Because I’ve already bought the tickets.”

“You-“ Yoongi chokes, eyes rounding with the kid’s audacity. “What would you have done if I didn’t like action movies? Or like, had already watched it?”

“But you haven’t. And you like action films.”

Yoongi stares at him like the world has gone crazy. And maybe it has and he’s the last sane survivor on this planet. Because how the hell does some little pickpocket know what he likes. He’s meant to be a thief for goodness sake, not a professional stalker. They don’t come hand in hand do they these days?

“Let’s go hyung or else we’ll be late,” Jimin says, breaking up Yoongi’s thoughts and he has no choice but to follow.

*

Everything is going according to plan. Jimin does a secret little fist pump and dance that Yoongi doesn’t see because he’s too busy picking out popcorn. He’s so glad Namjoon finally has useful information, and that Jungkook is there to decipher everything for him.

“You okay with salty? Or do you prefer sweet?”

Jimin snaps back to attention. “Sweet hyung,” he says instantly. Then thinks about it, and adds a cheesy “just like you,” to the end of it, shooting a little finger gun right at Yoongi’s heart.

Yoongi gives him a flat expression for two full seconds, then turns back to the man at the cashier and says stonily, “salty please.”

“No hyung!” Jimin rushes forwards. “Please don’t get salty. That was just a joke. Namjoon said it would work and-“

“Namjoon?” Yoongi blinks in surprise. “Kim Namjoon?” Jimin nods. “How the heck do you know Namjoon-“

Yoongi frowns and pauses. And before Jimin can say a word Yoongi nods to himself. “Of course. You must be one of the kids Namjoon picked up.”

Jimin freezes.

“Is that all sir?” the cashier man asks and Yoongi turns his attention away from Jimin.

“Sorry-“ Yoongi says and Jimin tunes out the rest of their exchange. Yoongi knows? Does he know? How could he-

“Brat.” Jimin feels something papery and hard land on his head. “Hurry up. The movie’s about to start and I hate missing the start of movies.”

Jimin’s hands fold around the popcorn box and only when he grips it, secures it in his hands, does Yoongi let go. Jimin takes it off his head, mumbling a quiet, “Hyung I said I don’t like salty popcorn.”

But Yoongi’s already at the doors, pushing them open and tapping his feet impatiently. “Hurry up,” he barks and Jimin gives a resigned sigh and follows.  He picks up one kernel as he walks and squints at it hard. Maybe he can train himself to like it. After all Yoongi did pay for the popcorn. Though he technically paid for the tickets. He pops it into his mouth and, oh. Jimin’s eyes widen. A small smile curves it way up his face.

“Hyung! Wait up!” he calls and hurries after Yoongi. “Here,” he says and holds out a handful to Yoongi. Yoongi makes a face but lets Jimin’s feed him some.

His response is to wrinkle his nose. “Too sweet,” he complains and plops down into their designated seat.

“Not as sweet as you hyung,” Jimin chimes and the groan he gets from Yoongi is so worth it. Maybe Namjoon was right after all. Cheesy lines are the way to the heart.

*

The movie ends later than Jimin expects and Yoongi declares himself hungry.

This gets Jimin flustered. He hadn’t thought this far out in terms of budget and he fumbles for his pocket.

Yoongi however seems to have already read his mind. “I’ll pay,” he says, pushing past Jimin so that he doesn’t have to see the distraught expression he’s making. “In exchange I get to pick.”

“But hyung-“

“I want kalbi,” Yoongi announces and there’s no way Jimin can afford that, so apparently that’s that.  

In the end they don’t get kalbi because they walk past some open air corner shop restaurant and the smell of beef grilling is far more tempting that the thought of phantom quality meat. Jimin’s stomach rumbles and before he even knows it Yoongi is dragging him in and proclaiming the kalbi place is too far away and Jimin will have to make do with this.

If by this he means the mountainous pile of beef laid before him, then Jimin can definitely make do with this. Yoongi swallows a chopstick-full of kimchi and lets out a satisfied sound. “So good,” he sighs and cracks open one eye, expecting a similar reaction from Jimin, and is disappointed when there is none. “What? Eat?”

“Hyung I-“

“Your food will get cold,” Yoongi says warningly. This conversation is for later.

“But I can’t repay you-“

Yoongi cuts him off. “I don’t want your money. I’d rather your company. So eat.”

And that’s apparently that.

*

Food isn’t all they get. Yoongi orders a heck load of drinks and laughs when Jimin splutters at the first sip, the liquid burning fire all the way down. It warms him to the pit of his stomach and the curve of his cheeks.

“You’re drunk Jiminnie,” Yoongi teases, drawing out the three syllables so that it sounds like Jiiiii-min-nie.

“’m not,” Jimin slurs and staggers, falling into Yoongi’s firm grip. Yoongi’s not that much taller or broader than he is but there’s something comforting about his frame. Jimin feels like Yoongi can envelop his body around him and shield him from anything.

“Sure you aren’t kid,” Yoongi says, a small smile against the crown of his head. He takes Jimin by the hand and leads him on through the night.  

*

Jimin wakes briefly.

There’s the sound of two people arguing. Their conversation is muted by the wall but the door is slightly open and the words spill in through there.

“So you’re teaching kids to steal now Namjoon?” Yoongi snarls. There’s the slam of two palms on the table.

Namjoon’s retaliation is no less fierce. “I wouldn’t if I had any other choice. Gods Yoongi, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Then why? He’s just a kid! He can’t even take his alcohol and you’re making him go around sneaking wallets out of people’s back pockets.”

There’s a furious exhale, pure frustration. “It wasn’t always that way. It was just me and Jungkook. Then Taehyung came along. And then Jimin. And I couldn’t support all of us. Not with the meagre pay they give part timers these days.”

“And so you thought ‘thievery’ would be the answer?” Yoongi says scornfully.

Namjoon explodes. “I didn’t think,” he snaps. “It was just…convenient. I was good at it. Jungkook was good at it. Heck, Taehyung was brilliant at it. It was just Jimin who couldn’t do it. He’s too honest for this sort of work. But he doesn’t like being the weakest link. He always keeps trying and trying and…”

“You could have come to us.” Yoongi speaks. His tone is harsh, but it’s quitter now. More stricken. Jimin has to strain his ears to hear the word. “You could have come to any of us. Hoseok, me, even Seokjin. We would have helped you if we knew you needed it.”

“You hated me,” Namjoon cracks. Jimin can hear the tears in his voice. And he has never seen Namjoon cry before. Ever.

Namjoon has always been their pillar of strength. If their foundation cracks, what is left?

But Yoongi is glue and Jimin can imagine it now. Yoongi taking Namjoon in his arms, one hand roughly patting him on the back “No we didn’t you idiot,” he says affectionately. “We were just upset that you thought you didn’t need us. But we could never hate you. Never.”

Jimin feels a shuffling to his right and he cracks open one eye blearily to see Jungkook looking at him worriedly.

“Should we do something?” he asks, looking down at Jimin.

Jimin shakes his head and grabs at Jungkook’s wrist, tugging him down and wrapping his limbs about Jungkook’s skinny frame.

“Umpf, hyung!” Jungkook protests, but Jimin just nuzzles his nose into Jungkook’s neck.

“Trust them,” he mumbles and dozes off.

Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “You smell hyung.” But he doesn’t shove Jimin off, knowing that Jimin is always clingiest when he is most insecure. He just sighs and grabs his end of the blanket and tries to erase the image imprinted on the back of his eyelids of Namjoon crying and being soothed by a stranger.

*

When Jimin wakes it is late morning and the threadbare curtains leak sunlight through their gaping holes. He yawns and cracks his stiff joints, rolling up and out of bed. His mouth feels dry and icky and he notes that both Jungkook and Taehyung are not there.

He stumbles into the kitchen, aiming right for the kitchen sink, and it’s only when he sticks his head under and turns on the water does he see Yoongi totally judging him from their tiny kitchen table.

“Hyu-“ he chokes on the stream of liquid in his mouth and nearly gets a concussion hitting his head on the tap. He fumbles and turns it off, mouth agape and dripping.

“Here,” Yoongi says with a frown and throws a towel into his face.

“W-why are you here?” Jimin splutters, grabbing it out of sheer reflex.

Yoongi frowns and grabs the towel off Jimin, swiping at his face until Jimin is dry and makes a protesting sound.

“I’m here because you and I need to talk.”

Jimin stills. “Talk about…what?”

Yoongi doesn’t beat around the bush. “About your pickpocketing career.”

Jimin swallows hard. The saliva sticks in his throat and feels heavy all the way down. “I-“

“For starters, you at it,” Yoongi says blatantly, throwing down the towel and sitting back down in one of the four creaky chairs. “And like I said, you could do so much better.”

Jimin feels his breathing quicken. “I-“

“Do you like stealing Jimin?” Yoongi asks, propping up his chin with one hand. He gives Jimin an even gaze.

Jimin his lips. “Not…really, I guess.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because I have to.” It sounds like a poor excuse, even to Jimin’s ears.

Yoongi arches a brow. “You have to? Namjoon’s not forcing you, I know that much. And it’s not like you’re good at it, or enjoy it. There’s nobody making you do what you don’t want to do.”

“But if I don’t then I’m just relying on Namjoon and Taehyung and Jungkook!” Jimin bursts out.

Yoongi doesn’t flinch. He simply moves his chin out of his hand and lays his palm down on the table, tapping a gentle rhythm into the old wood. “Why did you run away from home Jimin?” he asks gently.

Jimin is the one who flinches. “Who told you that?”

“Namjoon of course.”

Jimin trembles. How could Namjoon? How could he betray him like this?

“Namjoon didn’t betray you,” Yoongi says sharply. “He’s just doing what’s best for you all. And you know yourself Jimin that you aren’t made for stealing.”

Jimin stumbles back and into the kitchen sink, his hands fumbling for purchase against the cold metal. “But what am I supposed to do elsewise?”

“Whatever you want to do,” Yoongi shrugs. “You’re young. You’re smart enough. You have the world at your fingertips. Don’t limit yourself to petty stealing just because the others around you are doing the same. Don’t you enjoy anything? Singing, dancing, art, science? Don’t you have a dream?”

A dream?

Jimin had one once.

A dream that made him run away from parents that wanted to squash it under the foot of high school and university and a proper job that would make money. But now that Jimin thinks about it he’s been bound by money once again. He ran away from it all and got picked up by Namjoon, and then tried to repay Namjoon with more money.

Just what has he become?

Someone who thinks he can steal anything and everything? Someone who thinks of money as a way of means and ends.

Yoongi exhales and stands, shoving the chair back. “I’ll let you think things over. You have my number if you ever want to talk.”

The door closes and Yoongi is gone. Jimin slides to the floor and cradles his head in his hands.

*

Jimin is still sitting on the kitchen floor, knees drawn up to his chest, when Namjoon comes home.

Namjoon takes one look at him and sighs. “Yoongi-hyung just couldn’t be nice and break it to you softly could he?”

He sinks down next to Jimin and takes a bun out of his bag, tearing it half and offering it to Jimin. Jimin takes it mechanically and takes a bite without even looking. It’s his favorite of course. Char siew. Piping hot.

Tears burns in the back of his eyes and he presses the heel of hand to his eyes to stop them from coming out.

“What am I going to do hyung?” he asks in a cracking voice.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon confesses, leaning back and tilting his head up. The last residues of afternoon light spills through and decorates their table top in an orangey hue. Jimin’s reminded of Yoongi’s red hair and wonders if the leaves this autumn will be the same shade. “I don’t know,” Namjoon exhales. “But for starters, what do you think of moving in with Yoongi-hyung?”

Jimin snaps his head round to stare at Namjoon.

Namjoon looks at him sincerely. “I asked hyung last night and he said he’d talk to his housemates about it. It’ll probably be a tight fit for the seven of us, but…but I thought you’d like it.”

Jimin sniffles and nods. “I would hyung.” This time he lets the tears go and they fall down his cheek. “I really would.”

Namjoon grins and pats him on the head with one hand. “Eat up Jiminnie. Tomorrow, everything changes.”

*

They move into the three bedroom apartment that Seokjin’s parents had bought and lent him the next day. It doesn’t take long to pack their meagre belongings into small duffle bags and sling it over shoulders.

Hoseok promises to make it work, saying they can rearrange the rooms into two pairs and one trio, but for now they’ll have to make do with the living room and spare blankets. They don’t care. It beats the one room one kitchen flat they’d been squeezing into up to now.

Taehyung is ecstatic, bouncing around on all the sofas the minute he lays eyes on them.

“Taehyung! Get down!” Namjoon yells, dropping his duffle bags and grabbing Taehyung by the waist, literally man handling him off the furniture.

Jungkook has the opposite reaction. His eyes are round with amazement and his mouth ajar. Jimin knows this means he is completely stoked.

It’s not that the house is particularly fancy or anything, but it’s homey. The walls are painted white and printed with little black wall stickers. There’s a cheap but furry rug on the floor and a basketball in the corner. From the kitchen comes a smell that rivals the BBQ he and Yoongi had had yesterday.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Seokjin calls. “We may not have enough plates so some people might have to use paper ones.”

“That’s um fine,” Namjoon says, kicking off his shoes and sounding thoroughly stunned with the welcoming reception. “Can I help?”

Seokjin nods and Namjoon wanders off to the kitchen.

Jimin just stands at the entranceway, not entirely too sure what he should be doing or where he should go. Hoseok is leading Jungkook and Taehyung on an impromptu tour of the house, making each open door and shadowy corner sound far more mysterious that any three bedroom flat should warrant.

It’s Yoongi of course who kicks him in the back of the legs and pushes him forwards, into the house. “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?”

Yoongi gives him a scathing look that is softened by the smirk on his lips. He pushes past Jimin and picks up the stray basketball. “Could’ve tripped up somebody,” he mutters and spins it on one finger.

Jimin opens his mouth and then closes it.

“Hurry up,” Yoongi says and Jimin mechanically takes off his shoes and enters the living room. Yoongi isn’t there. Jimin follows the logical path through the flung open door and into one of the bedrooms. It’s cozy and messy at the same time. Bed unmade, table covered with bits of paper and pens. A speaker at the far end that looks old and well-loved. Yoongi is sat down on the bed, one leg slung over the other and there’s a hole in sock that Jimin feels the insane compulsion to point out.

“You have a hole in your sock hyung.”

Yoongi pauses in his solo game of tossing the ball against the floor and peers down. “So I do,” he says and goes back to rolling the basketball along the length of one arm, before swiftly transferring it to the other.

Jimin watches entranced.

“Sit down Jiminnie,” Yoongi says and Jimin does so stiffly onto the small office chair at the paper strewn desk.  

“Loosen up,” Yoongi drawls. Jimin tries to, but honestly it’s too overwhelming. It’s only been just over a year since he’s run away from a place that never really felt like home and now he feels dropped right back into a similar situation. Living with Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook was always easy, casual. But standing in the same room with Yoongi? It feels like there’s static in the air, crackles in his ears, and Jimin bobs his knees up and down, unable to relax his body. Standing in the same room as Yoongi is like sharing a cage with a tiger, half excitement, half thrill.

Jimin’s sitting there wondering how the hell he can convey this to Yoongi when Yoongi tosses the basketball at him and it’s only out of sheer reflex that he catches it with the tips of his fingers.

“Hyung!” he yelps, narrowly avoiding behind punched in the nose by a ball. “What was that for?”

“Good catch,” Yoongi comments and picks up another stray ball from underneath his bed. He flops down, spreading his entire length across the bed and starts throwing the ball up and down, catching it lazily.

Jimin hugs the ball in his lap and watches Yoongi entertain himself. Eventually his attention wanders, to the words on the table in front of him.

Lyrics? he thinks as he reads over the scribbled ink.

“Think fast,” Yoongi barks and Jimin barely has the time to look up and catch the second ball that comes flying right at his face. This one is an even narrower catch.

The ball in his lap rolls off his legs and lands on the floor with a thunk. When Jimin’s momentary panic at getting concussion is over and he lowers the ball, Yoongi is right there in his face.

Black eyes narrow. “Who gave you permission to look at my lyrics?”

Jimin swallows. He tries not to react, but Yoongi is just so close. He can feel Yoongi’s hot breath against his nose and see the fine dusting of eyelashes and the smooth traceries of skin. He wonders if Yoongi would let him slide a finger from the tip of his nose up to his eyebrows.

Yoongi still looks like he’s expecting an answer so Jimin croaks out the first thing on his mind that is not you look pretty hyung.  “You let me come into my room.”

“Yeah, so?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows and Jimin has to fight the urge to want to smoothen them down. “Just because I let you into my room doesn’t mean you have automatic permission to do whatever you want. What? So you visit a friend and you think that automatically that lets you strip, do the hokey pokey and spin three times on their coffee table with their eyes closed?”

“You think I’m your friend?” Jimin’s heart leaps.

Yoongi’s deadpan expression greets him. “That’s all you got out of that?” He shakes his head incredulously and moves past Jimin, shuffling the papers into a semblance of neatness and tucking them into a thick notebook. “Don’t look at my stuff again Park Jimin or else you’ll be on my list.”

Jimin sits there, heart thudding even though Yoongi is long gone.

Since when has Jimin last felt his heart race like this?

Jimin was meant to be the one stealing Yoongi’s heart, but now, who is the one actually getting their heart stolen?

*

That night they are all sprawled on the floor, coffee table pushed to one side and a chaotic pile of pillows and blankets strewn out. It’s like being back in their old apartment only better.

Except Jimin can’t sleep.

Jungkook is curled into Taehyung side and Namjoon is snoring like a chainsaw, all four limbs sprawled across everyone like some monster octopus.

Jimin wriggles out from under Namjoon’s arm and Taehyung’s hand over his chest and knocks on Yoongi’s door even before he can logic his way out of doing this.

“Hyung,” he whispers, trying not to wake anyone else.

Not to his surprise there is no answer. Jimin decides to persevere anyway and as quietly as he can, twists the doorknob open. He thinks it’s like slipping a hand into someone’s back pocket: slowly, then all at once.

To his surprise Yoongi isn’t asleep. He’s curled into his black chair, pencil end worried between his teeth and sheets of paper scattered across his table. The ceiling light is off and his curtains drawn, but his table lamp shines brightly. A pair of black headphones sit atop his head looping some lyric-less track again and again. Yoongi pauses from time to time to move his mouse and track back to an earlier part of the song.

Jimin watches with fascination as Yoongi twitches, inspiration striking him, and begins to scribble down something with feverish abandon. He pauses, stares at the lines he’s written, then rips out the page, screws it up and tosses it over his shoulder.

Jimin catches it reflexively and the motion attracts Yoongi’s notice.

He tugs of his headphones and gives Jimin a flat gaze. “Who said you could enter my room brat.”

“I knocked,” is all Jimin says as he tosses the paper ball from hand to hand. He wonders if he can get it into the bin from this angle.

“I didn’t hear.” Yoongi doesn’t buy it.

Jimin shrugs. “I know.” Like he cares.

Yoongi curls his bottom lip. “But you still came in.”

“Why are you still up hyung?” Jimin asks, taking a step forwards and peering over Yoongi’s shoulders at his lyrics. Yoongi shoves at him lightly and Jimin lets him do so, going with the flow and sitting down heavily onto Yoongi’s fluffy bed. It’s firm but has a gentle enough sink that makes it comfortable without being too soft. Jimin trails one finger across it and instantly knows what he wants.

Taehyung always did like to say, once a thief, always a thief.

“Didn’t I say if you read my lyrics I’m putting you on my list Park Jimin?” Yoongi says warningly, turning away and not seeing the gleam in Jimin’s eyes.

“Does that mean I can stay hyung?” he asks tentatively.

Yoongi snorts. “Stay? Little kids like you should be sleeping eight hours or something. Go back to sleep Park Jimin.”

Jimin grips the paper ball, squashing it in one fist. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admits in a small voice. That gets Yoongi’s attention. He drops his pencil and spins around, affixing his gaze on Jimin.

His voice drops to a low gravel. “And so what did you think coming into my room would accomplish?”

Jimin feels his cheeks heat. “Nothing. I just thought maybe you were up and could chat with me.”

“Liar,” Yoongi says immediately and Jimin feels the flush grow stronger. “You’re an open book Park Jimin. What do you really want?”

Jimin decides to just go for it. He puts on what he hopes it a pitiful voice and asks, “Can I sleep here tonight hyung?”

Yoongi grins, a lazy little thing. “Don’t try beating around the bush ever again Park Jimin. I prefer the straightforward, idiotic you.”

Jimin’s eyes fly open in protest at the word idiotic, but before he can say anything Yoongi flicks off the lamp light with one finger and crosses the room in a stride.

The sudden darkness swallows Jimin and he can’t see anything. But then he feels an arm slung from his right shoulder and across his chest and Yoongi is tipping him over. The small paper ball in his hand rolls out of his open palm and onto the floor.

“Shove over,” Yoongi mumbles and Jimin complies, shifting closer to the wall to allow Yoongi wriggle into a more comfortable position on his stomach. And Yoongi is way too close for comfort now. Even in the movies there was a greater distance between their hands. But now Yoongi’s face is buried in the pillow, just below the junction of Jimin’s neck and shoulder and Jimin can smell his just dried hair and the scent of milky shampoo.

Could this be the perfect time to do it?

Yoongi’s breathing is slowly evening out, so Jimin takes it as the green signal to turn his head slowly and lift himself up on one elbow. He tries not to disturb the sheets and, success!

He can see it. His target.

It’s dark, but his eyes have gotten used to it. He’s been eyeing them ever since Yoongi grabbed his wrist and shoved him up against a brick wall just three days ago.

Those lips.

Jimin holds his breath and leans down. He’s millimeters away from his target when Yoongi’s eyes snap open, and in the darkness the whites of his pupil shine brightly. Jimin flinches back and the edges of Yoongi’s lips quirk up in an amused smile.

 “Go to sleep Park Jimin,” Yoongi says. “You can go all Casa Nova in the morning, at more respectable hours.”

Jimin’s heart stutters. “Does that I can kiss you tomorrow hyung?”

Yoongi groans and attempts to drown Jimin under the bedsheets. “Go to sleep you little .”

Jimin wriggles his way free and takes a gasp of air.

But then Yoongi wraps his arms around him from behind and tugs him down, yawning and snuggling in close so that his nose is pressing just behind Jimin’s neck and his hair is tickling his ears.

“Go to sleep Jiminnie,” he says softly. “We’ll see tomorrow, about that kiss.”

Jimin smiles and closes his eyes. He sleeps very, very well that night.