One night Yoongi realized that he was tired.

No, it wasn’t actually the exact word to describe his feelings. He never really got tired. There was no such thing in his dictionary. Besides, how could he even be tired if all that he did was sat on his couch, staring blankly at the wall. Sometimes it was the wall. Other time it was his own reflection on the black TV screen, looking back at him with such a pathetic glare. It was during another third night without sleeping, sitting on his dinner table with a bowl of instant ramyun in front of him did he realize that he was indeed tired. No, he didn’t feel fatigue or drowsiness. He didn’t feel sleepy or tired.

And that was the problem.

He didn’t really feel anything.

He did feel hungry. He did feel irritated whenever someone knock on his front door. Most of all, he did feel anxious whenever the phone rang, waiting for the ring to subside and whoever was calling being directed to voicemail. Even then he would still glare at his phone with wide eyes, grabbing the edge of the couch with his fingers only to find such actions meaningless when it was Namjoon or Seokjin who actually called.

Other than that, he felt absolutely nothing, and he felt completely tired about it.

It wasn’t something that Yoongi could describe, but that feeling lingered. He was sitting on his dinner table with a hot bowl of ramyun in front of him. Wasn’t the greatest time to have such an epiphany about one’s life, was it? Then again why only know did the thought occur to him? Probably because he was having his eyes on the set of unused knives that Seokjin left on the sink to dry. Funny. Why would seeing those sharp knives had his mind on other thing completely unrelated to the device? Knives were used to cook. It wouldn’t serve as a salvation to him. It clearly wouldn’t because they were used to cut.

And there was nothing for him to cut.

Like there was nothing for him to feel.

He would probably still be sitting there, the ramyun forgotten, if it wasn’t for the knock on the door. He coaxed his head slightly, looking at the hallway that led to the door. His eyes darted back towards the clock hanging on the wall. 11 p.m. Yoongi thought about ignoring it, finally turning his attention towards his ramyun and finally ate, the noodle felt a little soggy and not as warm as it was thanked for his little epiphany.

The knock continued, this time turning more into banging. Whoever was behind the door was pretty persistent. He clicked his tongue and kept on eating his ramyun.

“I know you’re not sleeping, hyung!” the muffled voice yelled behind the door. He couldn’t really tell who it was.

“And I know by fact that you’re in there, so don’t deceive me.”

Yoongi groaned. That was troublesome, then. Perhaps he could let whoever that was knocking standing cold on the hallway until morning came. He or she would definitely give up then.

“I’m going to scream so loud the neighbors going to file a complaint because of you if you didn’t open the door now.”

The guest had revered to threats, now. Yoongi scowled. He kept on eating his ramyun, feet fidgeting. He wouldn’t dare, would he? Screaming in the middle of the night? Of course not. Who would be sane enough to-,

“CRASHER HYUNG-NIM, OPEN THE DOOR NOW OR I-“

Upon hearing that Yoongi raced from his kitchen towards his front door, knocking his bowl of ramyun in the process and having the broth spilled on top of his kitchen’s floor. He swung his apartment door open with such haste. Only then he saw the face of Park Jimin, grinning widely at him with a peace sign raised next to his chubby cheek.

“SHUT UP YOU ING-,”

The door to the apartment next to him swung open at the most unlikely moment. Yoongi froze, seeing Mrs. Kim peeked her head out to see him standing on the hallway in the middle of cursing. The middle-aged woman raised her eyebrow and gave him this look of distaste and concerns.

“Min Yoongi-ssi, what’s with all the noise?”

His face was blushing red now from embarrassment. He quickly bowed down a perfect 90 degrees, expressing his apology.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Kim. It won’t happen again,” he said.

Even as much as a silly and idiotic brat her son was, Yoongi still harbored some respect for the elderly like a good neighbor that he was. The woman gave him one last look before turning her heels and went back inside, closing the apartment door.

The moment she was gone from sight, Yoongi grabbed Jimin by the collar and practically threw him inside of his own apartment, face furious and teeth gritting.

“You little piece of !”

“Hey, I’m sorry, hyung. I don’t really think your neighbor would come out for real,” the boy said, raising his hand towards him, palms opened.

“Well, they really do, okay. And it’s all because of your wide mouth.”

“Hey, at least I’m not cursing!” he said.

Yoongi felt like pacefalming himself right now. He took a deep breath before studying the boy, standing oddly in his own apartment like he did the night he crash on him. A sheepish grin was painted across his face. Having an argument with Jimin would probably feel like talking to monkey. They wouldn’t stop making noises and would only irritate him more.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he finally said, sighing, propping himself onto his favorite couch. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the remains of the ramyun being scattered on the kitchen’s table and floor. He had to clean that up later and the thought of that only made him growled. He hated doing housework. This was all Jimin’s fault.

The boy walked towards his couch and sat next to him. He didn’t recall telling the boy to sit down but he was tired of making snarky comments already.

“I ran away from home again,” the boy said nonchalantly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrow. Last time, Jimin had admitted of doing so and that was three o’clock in the morning and he had crashed on him. This kid must have one hell of a family until it had become a habit.

“It’s not healthy, kid,” he said.

“Like you’re one to talk,” the boy scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

He groaned, feeling annoyed by the come back. He didn't deserve to say those words as if he knew Yoongi. The boy clearly didn't. They were both strangers to each other's eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing,” the boy suddenly chimed in.

He sighed again. He remembered feeling nothing and tired a few minutes ago. He took it back. Nothing felt as tiring as holding a conversation with the brat right now and nothing felt more annoying as Park Jimin in this very moment of his life. If only he could kick the boy out right now, he would gladly do so.

“Hyung, you’ve promised me,” he suddenly said, turning towards him, tugging on his sleeve.

The contact bothered him a bit since Yoongi didn’t really like being touched. He pulled his hand, trying to brush Jimin’s aside while ignoring him as well. Jimin got the message that he wasn’t in the mood for anything. A normal person would leave him be, yet Jimin was certainly not a normal person because he smirked instead and clung to his whole hand, hugging them in between his arms.

“What the . Let go of me,” Yoongi said, trying to pull his left hand from the clutch.

“But you’ve promised to treat me to some food,” he said, whining.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll treat you to some food now!”

“But you don’t say when so I assume that anytime is okay.”

“I clearly didn’t mean that so let go of me already.”

Jimin just clutched his arm harder and he went on to nudge Yoongi’s shoulder with his head, mimicking the movement of a cute little cat, brushing his chubby cheek along the fabric of his t-shirt. He was clearly sick from seeing such action and especially being the receiving end of one.

“Come on crasher-hyungnim. We’ll be even, then. You want to make it up to me, don’t you?”

He actually did. He still had the boy’s handkerchief sitting by the nightstand. He hadn’t bought a new one to give the boy back. He stopped resisting for once and thought for a moment. Maybe this was indeed a good way to get rid of Park Jimin forever.

“Instant ramyun,” he said.

Jimin stopped nudging on him, turning his head to see him in the eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“You want to treat me to some food, right? I got instant ramyun. I’ve made up to you then.”

The boy let out a scowl.

“Seriously, hyung? Instant ramyun? Let’s go out and eat some real food.”

Going out wasn’t stated anywhere in his agenda. Yoongi loathed the outside world. He always got this headache whenever he stepped his foot outside, with the outside meant his hallway even. He was content and comfortable being cooped up in his apartment. He got everything that he needed here. There was no need for him to venture outside. At least he was still buying groceries that last time. The next would probably be total isolation, calling everything to be brought to the front of his door and never would he have to be in the grasp of the outside world again.

“Take outs. Chinese food and then you’ll leave.”

Jimin shook his head, letting out such a disgusting no. He nudged his head back on Yoongi’s shoulder, mumbling incoherent words. It got to the point where Jimin took out his legs and had them placed in between his, trapping his left leg between his own and being dangerously too close to his crotch. Yoongi shuddered because the touch had gone too much and punching the boy square in the jaw right now would probably be the best option.

“Fine. Pizza and you got to stay the night,” he finally blurted out, hoping that it would get the boy jumping in excitement in mere seconds, finally off of him.

To those words Jimin didn’t let him go like he thought he would. He hugged him even tighter instead, letting go for the slightest moment only to embrace him again, this time wrapping his hands decently all around him. He thought that he was going to hate it as much as he hated being touch, but the embrace itself got him feeling dumbfounded. He hated petty touches, body heat exchanged in between hands shaking or shoulder grazing. It felt like a sting. An uncomfortable one. A prick of heat that touches his skin, something he wanted to brush away quickly. Hoseok was a hugger, but this was different. Jimin didn’t make that gesture of squeezing him in the middle of the hug. He just let his arms wrapped around you and somehow Yoongi found himself not minding it, even when the boy rested his chin against the crook of his neck and hat was certainly new, coming from a stranger like Park Jimin.

"You're liking this, aren't you, hyung?" Jimin said, smirking against his neck.

And that was his cue to punch Jimin on the face (jokingly of course). A slight blush crept upon his face but he quickly got up, reaching for the phone to call on pizza.

Park Jimin was everything about irritating.

.

Never would he imagine sitting on his couch, sharing a pizza with a boy he just crashed on days ago. Actually, he wouldn't ever imagine sharing a pizza with anyone these days. He still thought that Jimin was annoying as . He was loud as he could be, commenting about stuff that didn't need mentioning. The boy was nothing more than mere stranger but oddly he grew to know more and more about this particular stranger, more that he would care to admit. For starter, Jimin was such a health freak he cared about what he ate to the very calories intake. He specifically asked Yoongi to buy him something that contained the least fat. Yoongi, thinking that peperoni was a form of vegetables bought that instead and the boy started whining, complaining about the cost it would take him if he ate meat especially during that late of an hour. In the end Jimin had to live with eating a little bit of more fat than he was normally accustomed to.

Like always he wasn’t one to erect a conversation. It was Jimin who got up, walking around his apartment as he finally took care of the ramyun spill that he had left cold on the kitchen floor. He let the boy roamed around, looking at furniture and going through doors as long as he would leave him alone. He kind of regretted about the ‘staying for the night’ part, most of it being said simply because of the heat of the moment. The brat could easily sleep in the other room.

“Hey hyung,” Jimin called out from inside of his study. He was shuffling with papers and Yoongi couldn’t care much. He didn’t answer to the call until the boy walked back towards the living room and called on him once again.

“What do you study in college, hyung?” the boy said. He pulled on one of the chair and sat on the kitchen table, resting his head upon his folded arm on top of the table.

“Business.”

Jimin hummed. “I don’t think you really like it.”

Yoongi was fumbling with the dishes on the sink. At times like this did the idea of having a maid started to appeal to him. But then again it would mean letting another soul stepping into his apartment and that was exactly a thing that he had tried to avoid. Having Seokjin was like a maid of its own, so letting the young man visit from time to time wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. That being said, only if the elder shut his mouth and didn’t try to make another conversation with him pertaining whatever ailment that he could secretly been harboring even from himself.

“Don’t be cocky, brat,” he said, not glancing towards Jimin. The brat was right, though and it kind of irritated him how easy could the boy read him.

“So you like doing business? Really?”

He scoffed. Jimin was teasing him indeed.

“I mean there’s dust all over your desk and papers. I don’t think you’ve been going to college for a long time.”

What was he? ing Sherlock Holmes?

“What if I’ve been studying on the kitchen table instead? Or Starbucks?”

“Okay, I don’t think about that,” Jimin said.

He kept on cleaning the sink, wiping the metallic surface to clear perfection, even when they no longer needed cleaning. He tried to avoid conversation, but Jimin wouldn’t clearly have that. Of course the boy wouldn’t, because he had threw another question yet again.

“What do you want to study actually, hyung?” he asked.

What did the boy know about him, really? They were both strangers to each other’s eyes. Yoongi didn’t have any reason to answer to his questions. He shouldn’t even let the boy hang around. The next morning he would kick the boy out and they would be even, plain and square. There would be no more disturbing from Jimin’s side and Yoongi would finally be at peace. Therefore he realized that he shouldn’t really continue the conversation. He shouldn’t really try to know about the boy more. Moreover, he shouldn’t really talk about himself more than the boy needed to know. He could easily go to his room, shut the door and let Jimin sleep there like he had promised him.

But no, somehow he got himself tossing the dirty cloth he’d been using for cleaning to the sink, pulled out the chair in front of Jimin and sat there like Seokjin did days ago. Maybe because it’d been so long. His parents never asked him those questions. Nobody really did, actually, except for Namjoon and Seokjin who had once asked him that years ago when he just started college and realized that he hated everything about it.

“Music, actually,” he found himself blurting out the words.

His parents never asked and Yoongi just realized that bringing out the topic into the table would lead to arguments. He was tired of arguments and he already knew that his parents would win no matter what. His future would be business and that was it. His path was set and there was nothing that could change that. That was probably one of the reasons why skipping out for a whole month wouldn’t mean anything. Either way his future would be graduating with a business degree and continuing his parent’s company. A month of skipping wouldn’t change that. Hell, running away wouldn’t change that. There was nothing that he could do to change anything that had been set for him from the very start of his childhood.

“What kind? Don’t tell me classic. Wait, don’t tell me you’re secretly an opera singer.”

“Yeah right, brat.”

Actually it was what his parents had forced on him once. Playing classical music. He hated every second of it. You wouldn’t even guess what his parents had force him to play.

“Then what do you really want to do?”

“I want you to shut your mouth and go to sleep if I could.”

“Awh, come on, hyung. Answer my question.”

Jimin pouted in front of him, making weird faces. He sighed, massaging his temple. He wasn’t really having a headache, actually, but seeing that obnoxious expression might as well give him one. Why did the boy ask him this and why did he even bother to answer?

“Hip hop, all right? I want to study music producing but god wouldn’t let me so here I am stuck with business. You happy?” he said, raising his tone a little when he clearly realized that he actually didn’t need to. He sighed, finding himself to be irritated more than usual, feeling that slight bit of anger that he had actually buried deep inside of him. He had made peace with not being able to pursue his dream. He had made peace with the path laid before him by his parents. The anger was long forgotten, or so he had thought.

Jimin didn’t answer straight away or gave him another question. He just sat there at first, taking in his words and looked back into Yoongi’s eyes with a gaze he couldn’t really describe.

“Are you?”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow.

“Happy, I mean. Are you?”

His parents never asked him that. His friends never asked him that. No one had ever done that before. His friends would simply ask whether he was ‘okay’, whether he was hanging on, and at least if fine meant living, than he was indeed fine. He was as okay as he could be. But no one had ever asked him whether he was content with his life. Whether he was happy or not. He knew what he really wanted. Business what something his parents forced upon himself and he couldn’t refuse. He was not bad in it so at least he got through. But he knew that he wasn’t happy with it.

“No.”

Happy. He hadn’t felt that in a long time. . He didn’t even feel like having feelings these last couple of weeks. The only thing he felt was nothingness, even if such thing could be felt.

.

Yoongi was behind the steering wheel again. His headache was agonizing and he was going definitely too fast for the road. He couldn’t blame himself, though, for he remembered wanting to go home as fast as he could. The smell of alcohol reeked the air and every headlight did nothing but make his eyes squint and his vision blurry. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating loud. Just a little more. Just a little more and he would be home. He knew the street too well and he sure knew that there was this once intersection up front, the one he had to pass every time he had to reach his own apartment with a red light that went too long. From the distance he could see that the light was green. It would be red by the time he managed to reach it so he practically did whatever a person would do on such an empty road at 3 in the morning. He stomped on the gas even harder and swerved forward, faster than ever.

That was when his headache hit him again, much like a person swinging a hammer to his head. Yoongi groaned, closing his eyes for a few seconds, peeling one hand off the steering wheel to massage his forehead. It was something that he did for only a split second, yet the moment he opened his eyes, he could see someone standing right in front of his car, the lights hitting the figure. It didn’t take long for him to even register who could it be, only to realize that there was indeed someone standing in front of his car with eyes wide opened, seemingly as surprised as he was. By then it was too late to hit on the brake, and oddly he didn’t even try to. The car just kept on running and the figure was thrown from the road towards the window of his own car before rolling up towards the roof and disappeared from sight. His car was going so fast he even hardly felt the impact.

He couldn’t process what had happened, his mind simply went blank. He just hit someone, didn’t he? But why wasn’t he stopping right now? He should be stopping and check on the person. Whoever he hit would still be alive, right? His foot was glued to the gas and all that he could feel now was the headache, knocking him off his senses again. There weren’t even any noise or sound. At least there should be one, shouldn’t it? A scream, tires screeching, a loud thud, a voice. Anything. But there wasn’t one. And all he could hear was the engine still revving and the loud thump on his ear, pulsing and hurting.

“You’re a murderer.”

No, there was another voice, as if being whispered right next to his ear from the inside of the very car. His body froze. That wasn’t the radio or anything. And he clearly wasn’t imagining it up. It was there, right next to him, whispered ever so softly. He didn’t dare to turn his head around towards the passenger seat, keeping his eyes on the road. He should be reaching his apartment any seconds now but the road had turned endless somehow, reaching no end.

“Murderer.”

The voice whispered once again on his ear, repeating itself over and over again, turning from a slight whisper into a voice loud enough to be heard until it turned into a scream.

And that was when Yoongi jolted up from his bed, body drenched in sweat and his heart thumping loud and fast. That was a dream, nothing more. He took a deep sigh before burying his face on his palm. That was a dream. A simple dream. It wasn’t a voice he heard on the telephone or the whispers he heard on the club. It was a dream and a dream could easily be explained.

“It’s just a dream. A bad dream. You’re fine. You’re perfectly okay,” he whispered to himself.

He took a deep breath, turning his head towards the ceiling and sighed back. He repeated the words once again in his mind, trying to calm himself.

Min Yoongi was fine.

He was perfectly okay.

He gulped down, turning his head towards the clock in hanging on the wall. He remembered now. He had retreated to his bedroom, telling Jimin to sleep in the other room before he somehow managed to drift off into the slumber he’d been longing for. He sure missed sleeping, but not the nightmare. It was the first time his sleep was decorated with such hideous nightmare.

It was three o’clock or so the watch told him. Witching hour. No wonder he got such a nightmare. He already got a couple hours of sleep and he kind of doubted that he was going to get another. Even a few hours were better than going through three days without a single one. He stood up and walked outside, thinking about downing a glass of water or tried to get some sleep again on the couch like he used to. Yeah, he would get back on the couch, if it wasn’t for Jimin, sleeping peacefully on it. The moment he got out, he could see Jimin occupying the couch and he kind of grumbled, knowing that the boy chose to sleep on top of his favorite couch instead of the other bedroom like he had instructed him to.

He stood on his living room for a minute, looking at the sight of Park Jimin sleeping like a baby. He was curled up on his couch with one of his hand falling to the floor. He wasn’t having his mouth wide open like Yoongi thought he would with drool decorating the side of it. Overall he looked like a mere baby, with those chubby cheek and face. He couldn’t help but wonder how such a baby was running away from home in the middle of the night. If it weren’t for him offering shelter, he couldn’t imagine where the boy would be sleeping that night. Yoongi found himself cracking a smile. As much as he hated his parents and home, he never had the guts to run away like Jimin did.

He ended up sitting on the armchair next to the couch, looking at the sight of the sleeping Park Jimin. It soothed him somehow, the whispers and nightmares long forgotten. It reminded him of seeing the smile Jimin had given him that second night of their meeting, the moment where Jimin introduced his name properly. And somehow it got him closing his eyes again, very much like the first day of the accident with Jimin sitting next to him and Yoongi holding the handkerchief on his forehead. He drifted into sleep once again with the faint image of a smile crossing his mind.

.

He woke up to the voice of sizzling and someone humming in the air. It took him some time to process whose voice could it be before he realized that a certain Park Jimin had crashed on his couch the other night. A pleasant smell filled the air and Yoongi got up with a groan, his body stiff from sleeping on the armchair. He was used to the couch, not the armchair. Cracking his eyes open, he saw Jimin standing on the kitchen, cooking something on the stove.

“Morning, hyung,” the boy said cheerily.

Yoongi walked towards the kitchen table and sat, ruffling his head and trying to knock the sleepiness out of his system. That was new. He hadn’t woken up with the feeling of wanting more sleep before.

“Aren’t you supposed to go to school?” he said.

“Today’s Sunday, hyung,” Jimin answered, pulling out a dish from the sink and placed the newly-cooked omelette on top of it, bringing towards the table and leaving it right in front of Yoongi to taste.

He initially wanted to groan, commenting how the boy was using his kitchen without permission. But then again, he couldn’t complain when there was someone cooking something for him for free. That was when Yoongi tried it and decided that he should have indeed complained. Turned out the omelette tasted awful. Too much salt. The boy couldn't even crack an egg right he could even taste the shell's shard in it.

“You’re cooking’s as bad as mine,” Yoongi said.

To that Jimin turned around and whined.

“Yah, hyung. I’ve cooked you something for breakfast, okay? Shouldn’t you be more considerate?” he said.

Yoongi growled. He actually wanted the boy to be gone by the moment he opened his eyes. That was the deal after all. A box of pizza and a night staying at his place. That was pretty cheap considering that was the only thing he needed to do in exchange for hitting the boy and not paying for any medical bill or insurance. Talking of which he hadn’t asked how the boy was doing with the wound.

“How’s the leg by the way?”

“It wasn’t hurting anymore,” the boy answered cheerily, placing an omelette of his own on another dish before taking his seat in front of Yoongi. Somehow he realized how odd this scene was and at the same moment, how the boy fit into the image perfectly. Having breakfast with someone. This scene was indeed obscure but at the same time felt right in every way that it could. He hadn’t pictured himself eating breakfast with anyone. Even Seokjin never did this with him before.

“Why do you sleep on the couch? I’ve told you to sleep on the other bedroom.”

Jimin shrugged.

“The couch just felt nice. I don’t want to wake up and having you forced me to clean the bed up,” he said.

To that he recalled Namjoon’s questions, once asking why he liked to sleep on his couch instead of his bed. He had answered with something quiet similar. After all, he wouldn’t have spent a lot of time on his couch if it wasn’t comfy to begin with.

He watched the boy ate his breakfast and he thought about asking. ‘Why do you run away’, he thought. But then again he tried to put himself on the boy’s shoes. A Min Yoongi would certainly be annoyed when someone asked him such a thing. A Min Yoongi would simply talk about it when he wanted to. That was pretty much the reason why he swallowed that question up again and settled with a simple order instead.

“Finish up your breakfast. You’re leaving afterwards.”

“Really, hyung? Come on, can’t I spend more time here instead? It’s Sunday after all,” Jimin complained, making a pout and another weird faces again.

Yoongi clicked his tongue. He hated that expression.

“I’m busy, okay?” he returned the words, settling with his most favorite excuse of all.

Jimin scoffed to that, somehow knowing how much of a lie it was.

“Yeah right.”

.

In the end Jimin didn’t complain much. Surprisingly the boy finished up his breakfast and followed him towards the door. He thought that it would be the end of it before the boy said that he wanted Yoongi to walk him to the lobby, at least. He said how he hated elevator ride and it scared him to be inside of it alone. Hating elevator ride was his own reason to avoid doing exactly that, but Jimin had then made another offer that seemed more troublesome to his liking. Walking him towards the lobby or taking him back to his house. He didn’t know where this house was, but he knew that it would be more of a pain in the for him to get to his car and took the boy home then dragging his feet towards the lobby instead.

In the end he had to comply, locking his apartment behind him and stepped into the hallway. Jimin was bouncing next to him, waiting for the elevator to reach their floor. When it did, Yoongi step in with a groan. He hated elevator ride and how suffocating it made him feel. Funny. That feeling didn’t develop until the most recently. And now the descend from the 20-th something floor felt like forever. If he knew that he would develop such a feeling, he wouldn’t even buy this apartment to begin with and settled with somewhere closer to ground level.

The door was about to close when he heard another footsteps running towards the elevator, telling him to keep it open. Honestly he didn’t want to if it wasn’t for Jimin pressing the button. When he saw that it was Taehyung that slipped through the elevator and voiced out a loud ‘thank you’, he could only cursed under his breath. This brat would make the elevator ride even more agonizing. Jimin had a loud mouth and so did this boy. The worst combination ever.

“Mom said you’re making a ruckus tomorrow, cursing and stuff. Are you having a fight with your girlfriend, hyung?” Taehyung joked.

Yoongi groaned. He was standing right in front of the elevator’s door and he couldn’t wait for it to reach ground level. Taehyung and Jimin were respectively standing side by side behind him.

“Nah, this was all because of that boy,” he said, raising his thumb and pointed it pass his shoulder towards Jimin who would certainly now be smiling wide, probably being proud upon the outcome of his action.

“Well in my defense you wouldn’t let me in. You’re so mean you know, hyung, leaving me standing on the cold hallway just like that,” Jimin said to him.

“Who do you have here, hyung? A new friend?” Taehyung asked. “I never know you’ll have such a friend.”

“He’s not my friend, Taehyung. He’s just someone I happen to know.”

“See? Told you that Yoongi-hyung’s mean,” Jimin chimed in. He felt like this was a bad idea. Jimin certainly shouldn’t befriend Taehyung of all people.

“It’s rude for you not to introduce him to me!” this time Taehyung complained.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jimin joined in with Taehyung.

See? This was already bad. Worst combination ever.

“Fine. Taehyung, this is Park Jimin. Park Jimin, this is Kim Taehyung who lives next door, the one who you disturbed the other night. Taehyung, this is Park Jimin whom I met days ago when I accidentally crash my car into him. You guys happy now?”

He would regret for ever doing that later.

“What? You crash into him, hyung? You’re not hurt badly, aren’t you Jiminie? Wait, can I call you Jiminie? It seemed cute,” he said.

Jiminie? What?

“I’m perfectly okay. Just bust my legs but it’s perfectly all right now. Anyway, nice to meet you, Kim Taehyung-ssi,” Jimin said.

He heard both boys raising their hands, probably shaking. All the while Yoongi could only tap his feet in impatient, crossing his arms and hoping that they would reach the lobby as fast as this elevator could. Oddly he also realized that he wasn’t having one of his usual headaches. Well, even when he wasn’t having it now, he would certainly develop it sooner or later if he didn’t get off of this elevator soon since both boys behind him was starting to get so loud. They started to talk about things he found not worthy to be heard. Something along the line of ‘Are you around my age, Jiminie? Let’s just assume that you are’ which sounded way too weird for him. But then again it was indeed the alien Kim Taehyung and the loud-mouthed Park Jimin. He had created the perfect monster, it seemed.

When they finally reached the ground floor and the elevator opened with a small ‘ding’, Yoongi quickly got out first, stomping his feet on the ground and trying to get away from those two loud boys as fast as he could.

“Well, I have to go now Yoongi-hyung. It was nice knowing you, Park Jimin-ssi,” Taehyung said, walking pass him and Jimin towards the door. “Promise me you’ll let me play with Jiminie some times later, okay hyung?”

Yoongi groaned. The two could play as much as they want, actually, as long as a Min Yoongi wasn’t included in it.

“You don’t need my permission. It wasn’t like I’m going to meet this annoying boy again after this,” he said.

Jimin protested with a ‘hey’ before he shouted back. “Don’t worry Taehyung. I’ll come to your place and we’ll annoy the out of Yoongi-hyung.”

This time it was Yoongi who got to protest with a ‘hey’, smacking the boy’s head as he did so.

“Anyway, bye hyung, bye Jiminie,” Taehyung finally said, waving his hands. He watched as Taehyung left the lobby, waving towards them and walked towards the curb before Yoongi turned his head towards Jimin this time, still standing next to him with face beaming.

“You’ve got a nice friend, hyung.”

Yoongi scoffed.

“Taehyung’s not a friend. He’s just a neighbor who keeps on forgetting his keycard.”

“He cared about you, though,” Jimin said.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you know about stuff,” he said, clearly mocking.

But instead Jimin just sported that huge grin Yoongi had grown accustomed to and return the joke.

“I know everything, hyung.”

And later would he realized eerily, that Park Jimin really did.