XXIV

WARNING: LAME CHAPTER. Please prepare bleach for cleaning eyes and brains.

It's one of those days Jimin visits Yoongi in his shared pad.

He had come here straight from school, walking with Hoseok. The said older boy waves a dismissive hand in between them when Jimin voiced his worry if he's bothering the older boys, Hoseok laughs at him silly, telling him he'd be out too as soon as he'd change his uniform to fetch Taehyung for early dinner. Jimin gave Hoseok the teasing brow, watching as the boy's cheeks slowly turn a pretty shade of pink, worry immediately forgotten.

So here Jimin is, sitting himself on one of the couches in Yoongi's bedroom, making himself comfortable before pulling a white plastic bag from inside his backpack. He carefully placed it on the mini table in front of him, careful not to make so much noise as he placed down the snacks he bought in a convenience store on the way from school. Although, the snacks he picked were pretty much based on his own cravings—like the chocolates and chips. He ordered chicken and soup in advance though, in his defense.

Yoongi had skipped classes today, saying he hadn't gotten enough sleep for the past three days and he's sure he's just going to doze off in classes and pissed his instructors off, working on a project song that needed to be passed in the next couple days. Jimin had agreed for him to stay home instead, promising he'll drop off after his own classes and promptly ignoring the side eyes Taehyung and Hoseok gave him during and even after the call had ended.

To say that his day in school had been unsettling and full of tension was an understatement.

He had squirmed nonstop on his seat while they're eating lunch; Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung throwing him curious glances when they think he's not looking. He couldn't even remember what he had for lunch; however, he remembered how he had pushes his food around, head down and not looking at anyone at the table until the afternoon classes bell rung.

Taehyung immediately glued himself beside him—as expected for his best friend—waving goodbye to Namjoon and Hoseok who only nods in response before turning a corner to their own classroom. Jungkook was silently trailing behind them, hands tucked inside his pants' pockets and facial expression blank and stern. Watching the foreign somehow made him look a lot mature in Jimin's eyes, as if the doe-eyed boy he had met in the locker area was not him anymore. The purple head had nudges him in the ribs a lot more times than necessary to get his attention, one eyebrow raised in question as he side eyes the youngest of the three behind them.

Jimin, in response, had blushed really hard he swears the tip of his ears are actually burning; shaking his head with more force than one would do that only triggers Taehyung's curiosity. So it's only a matter of minute after they reached Jungkook's floor and waved the boy goodbye before his best friend was pulling him in one corner and trapping him with his towering form. Poor Jimin couldn't escape with his shorter, delicate height.

"What's going on, Park Jimin?" Taehyung had asked; voice low and serious. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to be look intimidating. Jimin wants to curl up and just disappear.

"Nothing," he whispered, eyes downcast, finding his cold fingers twirling on the hem of his uniform a lot more interesting than the frown firmly set on Taehyung's lips.

"Then look at me," the boy said, "Look at me and tell me there's nothing I need to worry about."

Jimin swallowed, wetting his suddenly dry lips before biting the bottom one in between his teeth.

They had been friends since forever, and given Jimin's non-existing ability to lie to anyone's face, saying there's nothing wrong in front of his best friend and trying to sound genuine is already out of the question. Everyone knows that if there's one person who can see through him, it's Kim Taehyung.

There's a long minute of silence before he heard a defeated sigh above him and Jimin knows there's no use in lying now.

"So what's wrong, Jimin-ah? You know you can always tell me, right? Is this about Yoongi hyung again? You two still haven't talked about your relationship?"

Jimin nodded his head slowly, fists clenching on the material of his uniform before shaking his head furiously in a split second decision to tell Taehyung the truth. He took a deep breath before looking up at the boy in front of him, meeting his eyes this time and observing Taehyung's brows that are now knitted in question.

"No?" Jimin bit his lower lip a little harder. Taehyung raised his hand and pull Jimin's chin with his thumb in an attempt to free the abused flesh. Jimin released it. "Then what?"

There's a few beat of hesitance before Jimin answered, "It's Jungkook."

"Jungkook?" Jimin nodded. "Not Jungkookie?" Jimin tried his best to control the blush rushing back to his cheeks. "What about him? Did you two fight?" Taehyung's voice is now a lot more worried than few minutes back, eyes searching for any change in Jimin's expression; concern.

"No," Jimin breathes, biting his lower lip again. Taehyung let him this time; the boy knows it's one of his nervous habits.

"Then what?" Taehyung prompts again.

And after taking a few deep breathes, Jimin told him what happened in that empty classroom last couple of days, saved from him and Jungkook. He has his eyes fixed on Taehyung's shoulder the entire time he's speaking, hands clammy against the material of his uniform. He can feel the boy's eyes on him but doesn't dare to meet them even after his story-tell. His best friend remained quiet the whole time, listening intently.

"Did you tell this to Yoongi hyung?" Taehyung asked after a few beats of silence.

Jimin breathes a quiet, "No."

"Why?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"Jimin, that's not okay." There're strong hands wrapped around his arms, squeezing gently. "Come on, look at me." Jimin obeys this time, peeking under his eyelashes. "If you wanted to have an official relationship with Yoongi hyung, you have to tell him this. You can't keep secret from him. And you have to tell Jungkook what you only feel for him. Do not let the boy hanging; you'll only hurt his feelings if you do that."

"He's my friend, Tae," Jimin weakly protests—he knows that it's the right thing to do. But he cannot find the courage to.

"Yes, and you do not hurt a friend by giving him false hope. That's the evilest thing one can do, Jimin, and you're not evil so you wouldn't do that." When Jimin didn't answer and only stares at him, Taehyung smiles a little, dropping his hands to Jimin's own and holding them between their bodies, thumbs caressing Jimin's knuckles. "Promise me you will tell them both how you really feel no matter what as soon as possible. Deal?"

Jimin smiles through unshed tears, heart clenching, overwhelmed at the words. "When did you sound so mature?"

Taehyung huffs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as Jimin giggles. "Come on and do not ruin the mood. I've always been mature, you know."

"That's not true though," Jimin laughs, "But deal."

And so here he is after gathering enough courage for the past days.

"Jimin?"

Just as Jimin's about to go out to tend the delivery boy waiting outside the unit, he heard Yoongi's sleep-laced voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder, one hand already turning the doorknob just as Yoongi sits himself on his bed, one hand rubbing the sleep off his eyes, a cute little pout settled on his lips. Jimin mentally cooed at the image.

"Hey, hyung. How's your sleep?"

"Hmm. 's fine. Where are you going?" Yoongi slurs, eyes still half-asleep.

"Ah, I'll pay the food delivery. Wait a second." And then Jimin's out of Yoongi's room, paying the delivery man and peeking around the doorframe with chicken bucket and soup bowls in a plastic in hand. "Can I use your kitchen, hyung? I'll just prepare this food. Wake yourself up and come to the dining if you're ready."

Yoongi doesn't even get to answer when Jimin's already dashing to his kitchen, watching fondly as the younger boy grins at him brightly before completely disappearing out of his sight, socked feet padding through the floorboard of the house.

He reached for his phone under his pillow and checks for the time, noting it's already almost dinner time. He had pretty much passed out the whole day given he hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the last three days; artistic inspiration hitting him at the deepest, random time of the night and only going to bed after he's satisfied with the layers in his