YoonMin | G | 426w drabble

because of Michael Faudet and my real life feelings that are long past their deadline to subside
(wasn't written on the train, but during a short break I gave myself between schoolwork)

warning: too greasy -__-“

Jimin didn’t think it’s possible to love before he has been kissed, but he is falling from dizzying height and his belief is shattering.

Yoongi enters Jimin’s life and makes home in the latter’s heart with unbelievable ease, as if the vacancy there has been made for him from the very beginning.

It’s almost uncanny how they grow, heavy in Jimin’s chest, the yearning he has no rights to feel and the attention he has no right to ask for.

How Jimin loves without – before – he even knows how to spell the word.

Like that little poetry book on the top shelf, out of reach to the 10-year old Jimin even if he tiptoed; and even though he hadn’t even touched its cover, he had seen his sister laugh and cry as she flipped the pages, and so his heart raced at the thought of finally clutching it into his chest at night one day.

Or like that lazy Sunday morning of sipping on a heavenly cup of macchiato in a café he visited for the first time, when Jimin heard a song he instantly loved; and he still does, daydreaming about dancing to the music even though he can’t remember the melody.

Unknowlingly. Whole-heartedly.

Jimin’s heart leaps at the way “Park Jimin” sounds with Yoongi’s voice, how the elder boy hums the vowels when he is happy and presses on the consonants when he is not.

At the way Yoongi’s eyes linger almost too long and their hands almost touch.

At the words Yoongi never says and the texts Jimin doesn’t receive.

Jimin wonders, sighing an ocean of unrequited thoughts into his pillow, why he is head over heels for the blanks, the empty spaces, the missing links, the unreal and imagined; why he still cares so much when tomorrow will just be another day of his love going unnoticed, of Yoongi smiling and talking and ruffling Jimin’s hair and turning back to his work head nodding to music in oblivion, of Jimin falling in love all over again, giving his heart on a silver platter.

And the question flashes through Jimin’s mind again as he beems at Yoongi, ears buzzing and eyes unfocused, because the elder is telling him, with faint blush on his cheeks, that he thinks he is in love, with someone whose name foreign to Jimin’s ears, someone Jimin’ll bet is breathtakingly beautiful and incredibly smart because his heart is breaking at the twinkles in Yoongi’s eyes.

Isn’t the saddest truth realizing you have fallen madly in love with what can never be?