[ ! ] suicide trigger.

                 There’s nothing funnier than walking backstage and spotting Jungkook in the corner by himself, decked out top to bottom in 17^th century European attire. But that’s exactly what Jimin is giggling about when he strides across the busy stage to meet up with his dance team.

                  Less than ten minutes remain until the big musical premiere, and even then the cast and crew are bustling about to get the last details straightened out. He can hear a potential audience gathering behind those velvet curtains while lights flicker on and the actors rehearse one more time. Jungkook seems to be staring off into space.

                  “This is it,” Seokjin’s voice catches his attention. The dance squad stands in a small group off to the side, imitating a football huddle. “We have all worked hard for this moment. While I trust you are all excited to show the public your choreography, I believe the cast is excited to show us what they have as well. Please enjoy the show and be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

                  “Yeah, yeah.” Jongin places his hand in the middle of their circle. “Fighting.”

                  “FIGHTING!” Soonyoung shouts, following with the gesture. Everyone else joins in with varied degrees of enthusiasm before dispersing off the set.

                  Jimin toddles into the cafeteria and glances at the curtained stage several times. He finds Yoongi standing towards the back, taking pictures of the crowd. The elder notices him approaching and aims the camera at him. “Smile.”

                  He stands still until he hears a couple snaps. “D-Do I look okay?”

                  Yoongi glances at the picture and bursts into giggles. “You’re cute,” he says, showing him his attempt at a lopsided smile. “I’m going to have them caption this ‘some kid who made the final dance number in the musical.”

                  Jimin huffs. “Thanks, hyung.”

                  His hair is tousled. “Come on, let’s sit down.” They find a pair of chairs in the middle of a row. “Is Taehyung not coming?”

                  “No, he’s not…” He settles into a seat and sighs. “He has to work because it was too early to ask for a day off. He said he’d take a rain check, though.”

                  “That’s too bad. I’m sure he wanted to be here.”

                  Jimin shrugs. “It’s not a big deal… I-It’s not like I’m going up onstage.”

                  “But you worked hard,” Yoongi murmurs, resting his camera in his lap. “Well, whatever. I’m here for you.”

                  He grins. “I know.”

                  The lights dim, and the curtains part to reveal Jungkook standing dead-center on the set. He looks out into the audience and promptly yells, “IS THAT BEYONCÉ?”

                  Yoongi blinks slowly. “… I’m pretty sure that’s not how the play starts.”

--

                 As eccentric as the musical was, the actors pulled it off despite having some unforeseen obstacles along the way (the lass playing Ophelia forgot her lines mid-sentence and paraphrased Twilight: Breaking Dawn while Laertes kept making lightsaber sounds while sword-fighting). Either way, Jimin kept getting distracting by Yoongi’s habit of grabbing his hand when something funny happens. It’s a miracle he managed to sit through the whole thing.

                 The cast would break out into dance every so often, and he’d see evidence of his team’s work mirrored in their steps. Some of the choreography was complex, while others were smooth and refined; he could tell who made what. A proud feeling blooms in his chest.

                 Then the musical begins wrapping up. He recognizes the lines spewing out of Hamlet and Laertes as the start of the finale. His song starts booming from the speakers. He holds his breath as they start dancing and there it is, for all to see; his very own choreography. Now he’s the one clutching onto Yoongi’s hand.

                 “You know,” the older boy starts, leaning in. “When you showed this dance to me, you made it seem a lot more… .”

                 “I know,” Jimin whispers back. His eyes are glued to the stage. “I did that on purpose.”

                 Yoongi stifles a snort. “Nice. It looks good though, good job.”

                 It looks great, and Jimin couldn’t ask for more. He reminds himself to thank Seokjin later.

                 When the actors finish the final act, the audience explodes into applause and the curtains pull together, signaling the end of a great premiere. A brief moment passes while everyone settles down, and an MC comes out to address the masses. “How did you like that?” she asks, to which they respond with more cheers. “I’d like to bring out the people in charge to have a word on what they thought! Here’s Mr. Kim and the drama council, as well as reps from our backstage and dance team!”

                 The head drama teach comes up onstage and spares a few emotional words before making way for the lead actors, crew members, and finally Seokjin, who appears with a radiance to him. “Yes. Hello, I am Kim Seokjin, head of the dance team responsible for today’s choreography. I thank all the team members for their hard work, as well as the actors who performed brilliantly. Thank you.”

                 The MC isn’t finished. “Say, Seokjin. I think we’d all like to know… All the dances were amazing, but that final dance number totally blew us away. Can you tell us who the genius was behind it?”

                 Jimin’s heart beats faster. He’s not sure how to feel about his name being broadcasted to everyone here. But he waits, for the inevitable moment when Seokjin utters his name and for over a hundred people to know exactly who ‘Park Jimin’ is.

                 Seokjin pauses, and then smiles once more. “I don’t mean to brag, but that finale… was something of my conception.”

                 “You made that dance? Wow, that’s unexpected. Give it up for Seokjin, everyone!”

                 The crowd bursts into another applause. Their ovation echoes in Jimin’s ears to the point he no longer feels like breathing. He didn’t say my name. What’s happening? What’s going on?

                 “Jimin? Jimin, are you okay?” Yoongi nudges him before turning to glare at the guy basking in an applause he doesn’t deserve. “I’m going to rip his ing throat out,” he hisses.

                  Jimin feels like everything is crumbling under him. He looks over at Seokjin and in that moment of eye contact, he swears on his life that there isn’t anything he hates more than that smirk the king gives him.

--

                  He praises himself for keeping it in until they reach Yoongi’s apartment.

                  When he’s in the safe confines of the elder’s home, Jimin slides down the wall and collapses into a sniffling mess on the floor. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, wiping his eyes. “I-I’m just—upset—”

                  “I know. Stop crying.” Yoongi rephrases to sound more gentle. “Don’t cry. You’re going to look ridiculous if you show up at school tomorrow with puffy eyes.” He sits beside him and pats his knee.

                  “W-We don’t have school,” the younger boy utters. “It’s F-Friday.”

                  “It’s Thursday, dummy. We have school tomorrow.”

                  Jimin looks up at him with wide eyes. He does look ridiculous, especially with a runny nose and frazzled bangs. “Thursday, a-as in… March 9^th?”

                  Yoongi looks blank. “Yeah…?” The senior panics when he bursts into another meltdown. “Wh-Whoa, why are you crying more?!”

                  “I-I’m sorry!” he wails, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. He can’t help this fresh stream of tears. “I’m so sorry, it’s your b-birthday and I’m being an—an idiot in your own house, I—I thought it was next week!”

                  The guy looks startled before laughing. “How did you know?”

                  “T-Tae told me…”

                  “… How did he know?”

                  Jimin stumbles to his feet and grabs his coat, attempting to throw it on. “I-I’m going to buy you something.”

                  “What? No,” Yoongi protests, taking his jacket away from him. “No, you’re not.”

                  “I’m b-buying you cake!” He starts towards the door, snot still running from his nostrils. “L-Like a cupcake or something—!”

                  “No!” Yoongi grabs his forearm. “I don’t need anything.”

                  “I’M GOING!”

                  “JIMIN!” This time, he takes hold of the younger’s entire body and carries him to the living room. “You need to shut up and calm down.”

                  “I-I’m sorry…” Jimin bawls, covering his face.

                  They’re both thrown onto the couch. Yoongi nestles Jimin into his chest with no intention of letting go. “Just relax, okay?”

                  Jimin is far from relaxed; he isn’t sure about this compromising position, lying on top of Yoongi as if he were a blanket. He tries getting up, but he’s forced back down. “H-Hyung…” His crotch is very uncomfortable.

                  “Be quiet,” Yoongi says, completely oblivious. “Just breathe.”

                  “… L-Let me—” Jimin shuffles until they roll onto their sides, until he can properly wrap an arm around his partner and his crotch is mildly comfy. He breathes. “… I’m sorry.”

                  “Shut up.”

                  “Okay.”

                 Yoongi sighs, wrapping his limbs around Jimin’s body like an affectionate cocoon. The boy’s head rests across his arm, nuzzled close to his face. His lips can touch Jimin’s forehead if he wanted to. “… Can I tell you something?” he asks, eyes closed.

                  Jimin just hums, probably meaning to say ‘yes, I’ll listen’. If he stays really still, he can hear his heartbeat and it’s almost… relaxing. It’s as if Yoongi’s never found sanctuary until now, and it’s right here, in his arms.

                  “I considered suicide a lot,” he starts, immediately reconsidering his choice of phrasing. He regrets getting defensive when people accuse him of being tactless. “I mean, like… I didn’t cut myself or do stupid , I—”

                  “I know…” Jimin barely reacts. Maybe he’s tired too. “I know what you mean.”

                  Yoongi blinks, wondering why he brought this up in the first place. It’s too late to back out now. “I guess I still think about it. But it’s not even because I’m sad or frustrated. I don’t walk around crying about how my life , I’m just…”

                  “Empty?”

                  “… Yeah, empty. I just don’t want to do anything anymore,” he says. “I was planning to go out as soon as I graduate, because after high school, that’s it. It’s the real world.”

                  Jimin turns a button on Yoongi’s shirt.

                  “And honestly,” he curls up, hugging the other boy tightly. “I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t want to do boring like get a job, get a house, settle down… I wanted to keep the passion I had when I was younger, but it’s gone. I really doubted there was anything to live for. So I spent a long time thinking about it. On graduation day, I’ll just throw myself over a cliff or something. Then I’ll be born again, and I’ll live again until I die at eighteen, again. It’s probably a lot better than becoming an angry old man.”

                  “… There’s no guarantee though,” Jimin replies softly. One would think they were talking about the weather. “—that you’ll become an angry old guy.”

                  Yoongi frowns at him. “I am bitter beyond belief. Have you even met me?”

                  “I assume so, since we’re cuddling.”

                  “Don’t get snarky with me, smartass.”

                  Jimin laughs. His sound resonates through Yoongi’s chest and it makes him stop breathing for a moment.  “… Are you still considering it?”

                 “Not as often.” He pauses. “Well, I did consider overdosing instead of jumping. But y’know, the future makes me anxious as and I can’t help but think of dying. Just to end everything… because I’m tired.”

                 Jimin takes a moment before muttering, “Overdosing is more painful. Than jumping, I mean.”

                 “Thanks—” The younger male suddenly looks up, and outright smacks Yoongi on the chin with his head. “OW! , I BIT MY TONGUE!”

                 “I-I’M SORRY!” Jimin sits upright and frantically pats his face. “Are you okay?!”

                 “NO!” Yoongi shouts, “KISS IT BETTER!”

                 Jimin freezes. They stare at each other for moments on end before the tips of his ears burn red. He looks away and stutters, “c-c-close y-your eyes.”

                  Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and stares.

                  “… A-Are you going t-to close your eyes…?”

                  “No.”

                  He flails a bit, not sure what to do with himself. Then he works up the tiniest burst of courage and clumsily covers Yoongi’s eyes with his hands, leaving a quick peck on his lips.

                  Once his eyes are uncovered, Yoongi looks up at Jimin for a minute longer and pulls the boy right into his arms, embracing his warmth. “Cute motherer,” he whispers into his ear.

                  “D-Don’t call me that,” Jimin whines, hiding his face into the older male’s neck. They lie there for awhile, listening to each other breathe in rhythm. It’s nothing beyond the fact that they’re quiet and still, but they have each other, and there’s not much more they’d want than that.

                  “How did you save yourself?” Yoongi asks a few minutes later, unconsciously combing through Jimin’s hair. “You survived two attempts. How did you stop yourself from doing it again?”

                  Jimin hums for a really long time. Then he says one word, voice firm and definite, as if it was the answer to everything he ever needed.

                  “Taehyung.”

                  And Yoongi doesn’t say much in response, because he can only imagine what must’ve gone down. He doesn’t know anything, the highs or the lows, and he doesn’t imagine he ever will. It’s like standing on the other side of the fence, catching glimpses into their story but not much else.

                  “I’ll talk to him,” he mutters. “I’ll talk to Seokjin for you.”

                  Jimin looks up at him in surprise. “You will?”

                  “Yeah, I will. I’ll solve everything.”

                  He still stares, slightly skeptical. “You’re just going to talk… right?”

                  “Leave it to me.”

                  Jimin leans in and kisses the skin of his neck. “… Thank you, hyung.”

                  The older boy lets out a soft groan. “… I hate when you call me that.”

                  “I’m just trying to be polite…”

                  “It’s okay to be rude sometimes.”

                  “… Uh… No, it’s not.” Jimin shoots back.

                  "It's okay in my book."

                 "Which explains why your nickname for me is 'cute motherer'."

                 “But you are a cute motherer.”

                  Jimin laughs; it’s such a nice sound. “… Yoongi.”

                  “Yeah?”

                  “… Please don’t die.”

                  “I won’t die if you won’t.”

                  “… You want to be vampires?”

                  “I don’t mind.”

                  “… Okay.” He lazily grabs his hand and shakes it. “Deal.”

                  Yoongi chuckles, and cranes his neck to leave Jimin a kiss on the head.

                 “Deal.”

'O, I am slain.' — Hamlet 3.4.25
The original draft of this chapter was 2700 words, and I barely cut it down to 2400. gdi yoonmin
isn't Seokjin kind of rude though :^)