Jimin swipes his bangs across his face for the hundredth time before glancing at the human taking up a significant amount of space in his bedroom doing absolutely nothing to sate his anxiety. Taehyung is sitting on his bed just observing him, all while gnawing on a pork bun. It’s probably the bun his parents left for him, because it still says ‘Jimin’ on the wrapper. “Hey.”

                 Taehyung looks up. “Uh?”

                 Jimin scrutinizes him with narrowed eyes. “When did you go through puberty?”

                 “Me? I dunno, near the middle of freshman year or something.” He takes a bite. “I was a mess.”

                 “I think you’re still going through it,” Jimin comments, pointing at his chin. “Is that… facial hair?”

                 Taehyung touches his face. “… Holy .” He stands to look at himself in the mirror, the bun in his hand dropping pieces of processed meat. “… Holy !”

                 The other boy frowns. He kicks the meat pieces towards a trash can. “You grew taller, too.”

                 Taehyung faces him and compares their heights. “I did, oh my god. Did you shrink?”

                 Jimin lightly punches his chest. “No.”

                 “I’m kidding, you’re reaching up to my nose now.”

                 “You think Yoongi grew any?”

                 Taehyung purses his lips in thought. “Nah, he stopped growing a long time ago. He’ll always be small.”

                 “Rude.”

                 “The way you said his name was weird,” he says. “You stopped addressing him without the hyung attached?”

                 Jimin blinks. “I guess I did.”

                 “Thank ing god,” the guy groans. “He wouldn’t stop complaining to me about it. You’d think he has a complex or something.”

                 He snorts, taking the bun from Taehyung’s hand and biting into it. “He’s still older than you. Don’t be so informal.”

                 “What color are you guys wearing for prom?”

                 “Huh? Oh, uh…” Jimin hesitates. “Orange.”

                 “… Orange,” Taehyung repeats with a little disbelief, a lot of smirk.

                 The other rolls his eyes. “It’s my favorite color, okay? It’s not because you dyed your hair orange.”

                 “Right, you keep telling yourself that. Anyway, I thought you might choose orange, so…” Taehyung slinks towards his backpack left on the floor and pulls out a small paper bag. “Face me.” He pats down Jimin’s suit jacket and reaches for his pocket, gently placing a flower inside. It’s orange, with brilliant petals diminishing into a light pink.

                 Jimin looks at it and stifles a laugh. “You’re cute.”

                 “Damn right I am.” Taehyung steps back and looks him over. “It’s a cosmos. Genus Cosmos, from the Compositae family, something like that. I already gave the other one to Yoongi, so you kids are gonna match tonight.”

                 He looks up at him with a bright grin. “Thanks.”

                 “I got you.” Taehyung smiles while snapping a picture of him. “Can I have that bun back now?”

                 “It’s mine, though.”

                 “You’re going to prom in like, five minutes,” he hisses, reaching for it. “Prom means buffet. Just let me have this, if you’re going to eat until your explodes over there.”

                 Jimin stares at him until he bursts out laughing. “O-Oh, god, you’re right, okay. Here, idiot.” He shoves it in between Taehyung’s maws, finding it particularly difficult to stop giggling.

                 His friend rolls his eyes. “Love you too, Park Jimin.”

--

                 “When did you get your license?” Jimin asks upon getting into the passenger side of the car and pulling the seatbelt over himself.

                 Yoongi, with his brown hair all done up for the occasion, backs out of the driveway and answers, “I didn’t.” He proceeds to laugh at his look of mild panic. “I’m kidding, I got it a couple weeks ago. I’m still rusty though, so make sure you’re buckled in tight.”

                 “Please don’t kill me,” Jimin whimpers, bracing onto the armrests.

                 “Have some faith in me, Jimin-ah,” he says, right before stomping on the brakes and narrowly avoiding the neighbor’s van. “Oh, , , . I’m still in reverse, that was a close one.”

                 “Y-Yoongi!”

                 “FAITH.”

                 They surprisingly make it to the venue in one piece, though Jimin could go without the memory of his boyfriend singing terribly off-key to radio throwbacks. The dance hall shows some promise however, as music can already be heard booming from the parking lot. Other students, in their shirts and dresses, are seen milling about before steadily making their way inside.

                 Jimin climbs out and gingerly closes the door after himself. “Where’d you get the car?”

                 “I’m borrowing it,” Yoongi replies, walking around to his side. The orange tie wrapped around his collar glistens under the light of the setting sun. “It’s a nice car.”

                 “You’re a nice suit,” Jimin retorts, immediately biting back his tongue. “Wait, . I meant your suit is nice. It’s a nice suit. You’re not a nice suit, you wouldn’t make a good suit.”

                 Yoongi glances at the flower in his pocket and fixes the identical one in his. “You mean I wouldn’t… suit being a suit.”

                 “… Please…”

                 He grins brightly and holds his arm out. “Shall we?”

                 For what it’s worth, Jimin puts on the world’s dorkiest smile and nods. “Yeah.” Arm in arm, they walk inside the venue and pass along their tickets to the guarding staff. They’re given a bit of a sour look as they make their way into the hall, but Yoongi distracts Jimin from wary glances with a witty comment about someone’s makeup.

                 The hall itself is large and booming; chandeliers dot the ceiling while pastel balloons, streamers, and confetti are strewn across the floor and walls. There’s no set theme to the dance, but assortments of white flowers stand in arches and wreaths, sending the faint smell of vanilla to every corner of the room. There’s a big stage against one wall, and a DJ stands behind his turntable throwing out beats. Students stand in their respective social circles, moving along to the music.

                 “Hey, teach me how to dance,” Yoongi says when they’ve entered the dance floor. He’s still holding onto Jimin’s hand and looks positively giddy.

                 “Oh.” Jimin sways, gently swinging their arms. “Like, just anything?”

                 “Mm, I’m open to anything!” He leans in to press their foreheads together and rests his hands on the younger male’s waist. “It might be useful, you know, in situations like this.”

                 Jimin lets out a chuckle and holds onto his shoulders. “Just move as naturally as you can.”

                 “Like… Like this?” Yoongi systematically steps side-to-side.

                 “No, now you’re just trying to waltz again. Just…” Jimin looks down in an attempt to hide his growing laughter. “Move naturally, and don’t think too much about where you’re going. Let your legs move on their own. Bop your head a little.”

                 “Okay, alright.” Their bodies begin to match each other’s rhythm, a soft synchronization in a mass of otherwise hectic movements.

                 Jimin looks up at him again and for a moment, they hold eye contact there. “You got it,” he says.

                 Yoongi laughs too, right before leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose. As soon as he does, the music suddenly goes from bubbly pop to dubstep. Everyone starts going wild, mixing their dabs with whipping and the occasional nae-nae. The two of them are startled, but continue to giggle a moment later.

                 He offers to get food, and Jimin agrees. They walk into the opposite hall, which is staggeringly brighter and calmer than the dance room. Tables are set around the space, and students sit with their friends, either eating what they’ve picked up from the buffet or just enjoying the moment.

                 Yoongi spots some of his photography club members sitting together and leads Jimin towards them, introducing him as his date. The latter is a bit flustered as he hides behind his boyfriend, but Jimin’s glad to recognize a familiar face when he sees one.

                 “Jimin!” It’s Dasom, who’s waving at him with a grin on her face. “Come here, sit next to me.”

                 “I’ll get us some food, okay?” Yoongi starts towards the buffet before throwing the girl a look. “Don’t steal my date.”

                 She snorts as she pulls him into the seat beside her. “No promises, vice!”

                 “Y-You look nice in that dress.” Jimin throws out a compliment to be polite, but he’s easily shot down.

                 “Okay, yeah, whatever. Enough about me.” Dasom clasps her hands together and stares at him. “So the last time I saw you, you and Yoongi weren’t… y’know, a thing. And he won’t tell me anything about it, no matter how much I ask. Give me the deets, I’m dying to know.”

                 “Leave the kid alone,” someone at their table says. “Yoongi’s going to beat you up if you interrogate his boo.”

                 “Yoongi’s not going to do anything if you’d just shut up,” she hisses back and then turns to Jimin with a smile. “Deets.”

                 “Well, um…” He scratches his cheek while groping the tablecloth. “We started dating in… late January? I kind of confessed first, and we just went from there.”

                 Dasom waves her hand for elaboration. “Kind of…?”

                 Jimin just says, “yeah.”

                 “Uh, okay. Is Yoongi a good boyfriend?”

                 “I think a better question is,” another girl speaks up. “Is Yoongi good in bed?”

                 “Oh my god!” Dasom cries, covering Jimin’s red ears. “You can’t just ask him stuff like that!”

                 “But Dasom, we’re dying to know.” They laugh lightheartedly while Jimin blushes and groans. As the laughter dies down, he catches his boyfriend’s name in another conversation; except the way they were talking about Yoongi sent chills down his spine, that he stops moving altogether to eavesdrop.

                 The table behind them is presumably full of other senior students and their dates, and they’re all talking quite loudly even though the music isn’t as intrusive as it is in the other room. He doesn’t turn around when a male’s voice goes, “isn’t that Min Yoongi over there? What’s he doing here?”

                 A female says, “don’t you know? He came here with a guy.”

                 “So it’s true, then?” the male asks in a condescending tone, scoffing afterwards. “He’s gay?”

                 “Well, duh. At least you didn’t see them making out earlier, it was disgusting.”

                 There’s a bit of mixed murmurs he can’t make out until the male finally says, “what a .”

                 Stale silence has completely taken over their table, and it’s clear the photography kids are uncomfortable too. Dasom reaches to cover Jimin’s ears again, but it’s too late. The damage has been done, and now he can’t help thinking how idiotic he must’ve been, thinking he could have a nice date with the boy he loves without any repercussions.

                 “Hey…” the girl starts, holding her breath when Yoongi casually slides into the chair next to Jimin, armed with food.

                 He pushes a couple plates towards him and distributes other snacks to his mates as well. “What’s with the depressing looks? You guys are looking at me like I’m gonna die or something.”

                 One of the boys cough and says, “yeah, you’re gonna die! You gave me nachos without any cheese, how dare you.”

                 The mood immediately goes up after that, with everyone making an effort to laugh or throw out a cheeky comment about something trivial. Jimin remains sombre and stiff; he doesn’t know what to say or do, especially when Yoongi reaches to feed him something. He hesitates to open his mouth, and once he does, he’s paranoid of anyone and everyone staring at them in revulsion.

                 The more he thinks about it, the more evident those disgusted glances become, until all he sees is himself on the other side of the line, as something not completely human.

the prom chapter ended up being too long so it's split into two parts : ' ) 
but hi, I'm alive ! after this chapter, there are 6 chapters left ! I only have one more to write.
meaning I wrote 47/48 chapters, 85 000 words would you believe