Taehyung approaches him with a pair of rosy cheeks coupled with a shy, flustered smile. He fumbles with his hands and digs at the floor underneath his shoes, giving off the image of a schoolgirl who’s hopelessly in love with her handsome classmate who once picked up a pencil for her.

                  “Park Jimin, will you go to prom with me?”

                  Jimin smiles as well, because he doesn’t remember another time he’s hit his friend upside the head so quickly.

--

                  The two are hanging outside of Taehyung’s fifth period class, counting the minutes before the bell rings and the moment Jimin has to bolt downstairs for his own class. A few kids are loitering around the halls as well.

                  “You know,” Taehyung says, attempting to balance his textbook on Jimin’s head. “I was kind of half-serious about asking you to prom.”

                  “Kind of half-serious?” Jimin repeats, eyeing him warily.

                  “Yeah, I thought it’d be fun. Like we’d get matching tuxes and just turn up or something, but you don’t want to go, right?”

                  He frowns while making an attempt to stand still. “Not really. It’s an exclusive seniors-only thing, like the party.”

                  “But unlike the party, they won’t book you for going to prom. Why don’t you ask Yoongi, then?” he asks, stacking another book on top of the first one.

                  “He doesn’t want to go either.”

                  Taehyung fakes a look of shock. “Wow, it’s like you two hermits were made for each other!” He dodges an incoming smack and snorts. “Careful, you don’t want the books to fall over. Also, he might say yes if you did a cute promposal though.”

                  Jimin tries to not sound convinced. “… Like what?”

                  “I don’t know, maybe take a picture of yourself on his camera with a prom sign. So when he scrolls through his photos, he’ll see it eventually.” He opens his backpack to gets some novels and stacks them on top.

                  “Even if it’s me, he wouldn’t let anyone near his camera. I’ve touched it once, ever.” Jimin widens his stance to balance himself. “How many ing books do you have?”

                  “That’s true… and just a couple more.” Taehyung pauses. “You sounded a little cocky there.”

                  Jimin jerks his head towards him, dangerously shifting the growing pile of literature on his head. “What do you mean?”

                  “Like you know you and Yoongi are a thing, so you tend to flaunt it. Even if it’s me,” he mimics, laughing his off afterwards. “It’s cute!”

                  Jimin splutters, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He folds his arms across his chest and pouts.

                  “You should ask him out though. Dude looks like he’s never been to prom in his three years of high school and he’s graduating in a couple weeks.”

                  He takes it into consideration. Yoongi is probably the type to sit back at parties, taking pictures of people, capturing their memories but never his own. Maybe for once, he’d appreciate taking selfies or goofing off to his own for the night. Maybe he’d like to let loose for a day. Worse case scenario, he’d reject the offer and lock himself up with a bowl of cereal and Netflix. It’s worth a shot.

                  “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just…” Jimin hesitates, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. “What if people make fun of us? What if people think we’re… gay?”

                  Taehyung narrows his eyes. “But you are gay. AND BEING GAY IS OKAY,” he practically shouts across the hall, catching the attention of nearby students. “Besides, people say that about you and me all the time.” He stacks a ruler on top of the books.

                  “Yeah,” Jimin squeaks, barely hearing himself. “But people know we’re friends. It’s different with Yoongi-hyung. I don’t want to put him through that.”

                  Taehyung makes a face and drops a hip. “Oh, so it’s okay to put me through that?”

                  “Only because I know you’re strong enough to take it,” he admits. “I don’t know what his limits are.”

                  The orange-haired kid suddenly breaks into a grin and wrings his arms around him, allowing the stack of books to topple onto the floor (someone screamed at the sound it made). He coos, “AW, WHO’S MY BEST FRIEND? YOU ARE! YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND!”

                  “T-Tae—!”

                  “Not gonna lie though…” Taehyung brings them down to a whisper. “But you two would be the cutest couple on prom night.”

                  The bell rings and he gathers up his stuff, just before the other students start pouring out of their classrooms. Jimin gets swept up with the wave and amongst the chattering of his peers, he can vaguely hear Taehyung’s baritone voice screeching, “I SHIP IT!”

--

                  He had dreams about elaborate, full-scaled gimmicks intended to ask Yoongi out to prom, but when it came to physically doing any of those things Jimin’s feet became a bit cold. There is absolutely no way he’s getting a chocolate mould of his head or enough roses to fill the front hall of Yoongi’s home. He even thought of hiring a mariachi band, for god’s sake.

                  It’s just a simple question, he reminds himself, and Yoongi won’t judge me. He still stumbles to get up to the older boy’s apartment, having a difficult time pressing the elevator button to the point a passing child went to press it for him. He does a couple breathing exercises while going up.

                  When Yoongi answers the door after a few frail knocks, Jimin is about ready to pass out. “Hey,” the guy greets casually, still in his boxers. “You alright?”

                  He lies. “… I saw a b-bug.”

                  Yoongi chuckles while stepping aside. “Come in.”

                  He makes up his mind by the time he waddles in, kicks his shoes off, and sits in the living room. Jimin is going the inconspicuous route; he finds a pad of sticky notes in his bag and clumsily scrawls ‘prom?’ onto one, sticking it in plain sight onto the table. It’s not the most romantic gesture, but it should get his point across.

                  “You hungry?” Yoongi calls from the kitchen. He’s making a huge racket in there.

                  “N-No, I’m okay!” If he ate anything right now, he might throw up.

                  “I’ll get you some snacks!” Jimin flinches at the subsequent amount of noise; he’s probably just fetching him a box of crackers, and yet the kitchen sounds like it’s subject to nuclear warfare.

                  Yoongi returns with a piping hot bowl of instant noodles and assorted packages of candy lodged under his armpits. He sets everything down on the table and runs back to get chopsticks and a spoon.

                  Jimin looks at the food. He notes that they’re experiencing a heatwave in the middle of ing June and this is guy is eating ramen, which is steaming everywhere. He also notes that Yoongi placed the bowl right on top of his prom note.

                  “Shoot me in the face.”

                  “Pardon?” Yoongi sits down, obliviously stirring his noodles. Water drips down his bowl and wrinkles the note.

                  “… Nothing,” Jimin sighs. He grabs a box of chocolate biscuits to drown his sorrows in. “… Have you… talked to Seokjin recently?”

                  “Seokjin?” He shrugs. “Not really. I’ve seen him around, at Yearbook meetings, but I haven’t bothered to talk to him. I don’t have to anymore.”

                  Jimin eyes him curiously. “You don’t have to?”

                  “I already told you everything,” Yoongi says softly. “About what happened online. He doesn’t have anything to threaten me with anymore. I don’t have to listen to what he says. I don’t have to associate myself with him, so we just stopped talking.”

                  He takes a moment to process his words before nodding. He still wonders about what kind of relationship those two must’ve had, even if it’s been severed to pieces now. There must’ve been something other than borderline hate, for them to interact as much as they used to. Still, Seokjin’s reign of terror is over and now they’re basking in the summer light of liberation. “Good for you, hyung.”

                  “And anyway, we’re all busy because of, you know, the whole graduating thing.” Yoongi reaches for a stack of papers on the sofa and slides them across the table. “I wanted to show you these.”

                  He flips through them, observing the varied watermarks printed across the top of every letter. They all begin with some form of ‘congratulations, Mr Min Yoongi’ and it takes Jimin an embarrassingly long time to figure out what they are. “Are these—?”

                  “Letters of acceptance to my top five universities,” Yoongi replies with a grin. “It took a while—like two damn months—but I finally decided where I want to go. Hanyang, yes.”

                  Jimin looks up at him, blinking. “I-I thought you said you wanted to join your parents overseas after high school. Hanyang is in Seoul…”

                  “Well yeah, I’ll trek across Germany during the summer, probably. But if it’s for school, I still want to be close to home.” He starts slurping up some noodles. “Can’t have you missing me too much.”

                  “I’ll miss you anyway.” Jimin frowns, carefully folding the papers together. “Are your parents coming to the graduation ceremony?”

                  Yoongi shakes his head. “Nah, I told them not to. I didn’t want them to waste money on coming back for a weekend.”

                  The younger male nearly gasps. He gapes with his face reading between shock and distress. “What?! They should be there to celebrate with you. Isn’t it kind of a big deal?”

                  “If you think so, then why don’t you come instead?”

                  “What?!” Jimin repeats, and then bites back his tongue. “… Wait, am I actually allowed to be there?”

                  “Yeah, every graduate is allowed one or two guests. I’d actually really like it if you came.” Yoongi snorts, forcing back a smile. “You don’t get many chances to see me in a gown, Jimin-ah. Come to my graduation.”

                  “I’ll go if you come to prom with me.”

                 He doesn’t realize what he’s said until the guy outright chokes, dropping his spoon as he collapses onto the floor coughing.

                 Jimin panics and sprints to help. “I-I’m sorry!” he stammers while smacking his back. “I-It just came out—!”

                 Yoongi grabs his elbow to stop him from moving. He clears his throat and says evenly, “Jimin.”

                 “Y-Yes?” He immediately thinks of the worse case scenario; he’s going to say no. He hates me. He wants me to leave. Oh god, why the hell did I just come out with that, he doesn’t even want to go. I don’t even want to go, I—

                 “I’m not going to prom with you,” he says. “You’re coming to prom with me. It’s mostly a third-year event, of course I should be the one taking you, dummy. Wear a nice suit, I’ll pick you up.”

                 Jimin blinks slowly. “Okay.”

                 Yoongi smiles and leans in for a soft kiss. “Not the most romantic promposal I’ve seen,” he mutters when they part.

                 “But it’s yours,” Jimin replies, nuzzled into his chest. He gripes the hem of the elder’s shirt and bites on his lip. The embarrassment is catching up to him. His cheeks are on fire.

                 Yoongi laughs while wrapping his arms around him. “It’s all mine.”

                 “… You seem happy,” Jimin says. “Happier.”

                 “Are you insinuating that I’m usually a grumpy puss?”

                 “… Kind of.”

                 He snorts. “I’m happy.”