The idea of driving is terrifying.

There’s too much risk involved and too little protection. If even one thing goes wrong, even one law disobeyed or one second of poor concentration is passed, it’s over. Because there’s only so much a sack full of air can help you when a ton of metal rams into your side.

His car’s not even nice. It’s a foreign car, but that doesn’t mean it’s a particularly impressive foreign car. The keys to the old Buick minivan were given to him by his grandmother when she became too old to drive. His friends use it against him whenever he slips into a mood, that his ‘grandpa car’ rubbed off on him.

And it’s an ugly thing. There’s more rust around the doors than paint, and where the rust is lacking the car’s true color shows through a most refined matte khaki. Three uneven scratches run the length of the trunk where some anonymous keyed it (but he’ll tell anyone it’s from a bear attack, in the middle of the city). He only has AM radio and the engine is quite comparable to the sound of his room-mate snoring. The odometer reads just over 96,500 miles. When he’s especially pissed off at a fellow driver, he can’t express his rage properly because the car horn is only as weak and threatening as that of his childhood tricycle.  So perhaps it’s not the idea of driving that’s terrifying, but the fact that Yoongi’s ride has been dubbed both ‘Ticking Time Bomb’ and ‘The Drive of Shame’.

But every time it rains, Yoongi loves driving. Because rain brings mud, and he just happens to drive through said mud, and that comes with a routine trip to the car wash.

It’s a place so plain and generic it’s just called ‘Car Wash’, spelled out on a blue neon sign that needs some bulbs replaced. The cheapest car wash in town, for a reason. Off the top of his head, Yoongi can name at least three other car washes within a 5-kilometer radius that could do a better job than the Car Wash. But none of those places have employees quite like these.

The first time Yoongi went to the Car Wash was in the spring, with Namjoon. Which, in retrospect, was a mistake because he had to hear the man’s philosophical complaints the whole way there: “The dirt is metonymous with the journey. If you wash away the dirt, you’re washing away the history of this car. Yoongi, you’re paying people to make your car just another unmarked minivan.” Yoongi had promptly replied, ‘When was the last time you showered, then?’ and pulled into line.

The first red flag should have been that the car wash was manual. No fancy machines, no rainbow-pastel soaps, no fan blowing his car dry at the end. A poor man’s car wash if there ever was one. The second red flag should have been the price. Yoongi could get his car washed twelve times (Namjoon even did the math) for the price of one haircut. The third red flag should have been the employees. They were two young men, younger than Yoongi and Namjoon.

When one of the boys, a dark-haired one, ran up to his car window, Yoongi rolled in down and made his best ‘What the hell do you want?’ face. “Hi!” The boy said, “What can I do for you today?”

Yoongi unceremoniously stuck his hand out the window and dropped a crumpled mess of money into the boy’s hand. “I don’t know, how about wash my car?”

“Would you like a regular, premium, or super wash?”

His nose crinkled. “How the hell am I supposed to know? If I go ‘super’, will you guys do a musical number or something? Maybe vacuum my trunk or Clorox the cup-holders?”

The boy’s face fell. “Uh, regular it is, then.” And he ran back to finish up the car in front of Yoongi’s.

That’s when the stars aligned and the second coming of Christ happened. Because a third boy ran out of the brick building, tossed a blinding smile at his co-workers, and set to work. He had, undeniably, the nicest Min Yoongi had ever laid eyes upon.

And the next time, Yoongi noticed he had the softest-looking brown hair. And the next time, the most sparkling eyes. And the next time, the most genuine laugh. And the next time, and the next, and the next, until everything about the boy is beautiful and Yoongi’s blowing 30 000 won a month just getting his car washed.

He’s at cleaning cars. The kid doesn’t even scrub, he just dunks a sponge in some soapy water and slaps it on all the rust and dull paint. Sometimes Yoongi swears he rolls away with his car dirtier than it was half an hour ago. His favorite part is when the kid cleans the windows; he reaches as far as he can across the hood to get the other half of Yoongi’s windshield, rather than just walking around the car, and his shirt rides up a bit and this is what Yoongi’s paying for. With the driver’s side window, he blows hot air on the surface before passing a dry cloth over it, and his lips just look so appealing.

Namjoon noticed it right away. That very first time at the Car Wash, as soon as the pretty one bent over to fill his sponge with water and Yoongi’s head tilted up to see better over the dashboard, he said, “Stop eye-ing the car wash attendant.” Yoongi just shrugged; he didn’t even deny it.

He kept pushing. He keeps pushing. He turns up his static-riddled, frustrating AM radio louder and louder each visit to the Car Wash, vulgar rap pumping into his feet and out into the air, so that when he pulls into line the three boys’ heads all snap up and they know he’s arrived.

That’s how they first talk. When the dark-haired boy, the one who usually takes his money, isn’t there one day, the Car Wash angel comes up to his window instead and says, “Oh, you’re the loud music guy!”  then covers his mouth really quickly. But Yoongi still sees the blush, still sees how he rakes his fingers through his hair out of sheer nervous habit.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi says, and he hands him the money and slips off his sunglasses, “that’s me.”

When he takes his friend Hoseok to the Car Wash, it becomes an instant regret. He didn’t think Hoseok would be so obnoxious about the whole thing, practically climbing out of the car to get a better look: “Which one is he? The cute one?” After Yoongi explains that he doesn’t know what Hoseok’s ed-up standard of ‘cute’ is, the man pouts, “Sorry, Yoongi, I’m just so happy for you! I want to know what my future honorary brother-in-law looks like!” Yoongi wonders why he has friends when he could just stay at home as a social recluse.

As soon as the dark-haired one takes his money and Yoongi sends him off with a, ‘Stay in school, kid’, Hoseok gasps. “That wasn’t him, was it? God, Yoongi, you are a textbook . And why is your music so loud?” He convinces Yoongi to point the boy out anyway, and when he does Hoseok states, “To each their own, I guess.” before attempting to wave at the pretty boy. Yoongi just hides behind the safety of his sunglasses and acts like he doesn’t know Hoseok, even though they’re in the same car.

The boy’s name is Jimin. It’s a name Yoongi curses for being so common, flinches at whenever he hears it on television or in the streets or even reading it on the Internet. It’s a name he hears while waiting for his car to get washed, by the other boys, whose names he doesn’t care about. And it’s a name he thinks about a lot, thinks about how it would sound if he said it out loud.

Sometimes, he does talk to Jimin. He leaves his window rolled down on purpose just so Jimin will shuffle awkwardly and say, “Um, excuse me, could you please roll up your window? I need to wash it.” His voice is so gentle and bright. Yoongi doesn’t do anything more than turn his music up with one hand and roll the window up with the other.

When the seasons change, it’s refreshing. For a certain while, he’d only known who Jimin was in the spring: a boy with so much energy and smiles, who sneezes in a high register on windy days and who wears shorts when it isn’t even that warm out (but Yoongi doesn’t mind). Then summer comes and it’s a whole different Jimin, one who isn’t afraid to start water fights with the other two boys even when there are customers. Jimin wears light colors in the summer, and when they get wet Yoongi can see the solid outline of his stomach and chest. He runs away from bees and fans his co-workers with his hands and Yoongi wants to know him better.

He doesn’t tell his room-mate about it. Because as much as he likes Jin, as much as he knows Jin will support and care for him, he also knows that Jin is gossip-prone and spills secrets ‘because I want to brag about you.’ Yoongi forgets, however, about Jin’s hush-hush rendezvouses with Namjoon. So when he sets Yoongi’s favorite meal on the table and says with the sweetest smile, “I heard the service is really great at that car wash,” Yoongi is only surprised for half a second. Even when he doesn’t say anything, Jin keeps prompting: “How often do you go there?” “Do you know his name?” and the nail in the casket, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me and Joon.”

That seals the deal. Because the two keep such a low profile that Yoongi is left in the dark more often than not. “Fine, I’ll start. Who confessed first, you or Namjoon?”

“It was me. I knew he wouldn’t do it first. Okay, your turn—what was your first impression of Mr. Car Wash?”

Why did Yoongi agree to this? “Honestly, I just saw his and thought, ‘yep, that’s the one for me.’” He ignores Jin’s assertion of, ‘Of course you did.’ “What’s the most romantic thing Namjoon’s ever done?”

Jin smiles fondly, “He’s actually very romantic. I was surprised at first. On our anniversary he tried to bake me a little cake. It tasted terrible, but I was so touched that I—it was a good night, let’s just say.” He winks comically and Yoongi scoffs, ‘You filthy bastard.’ “Now I have a final question; I can’t push you all at once: Do you really like him, or his body only?”

“At first, his body. It was all I had to go by.” It’s embarrassing, telling Jin all of this. “But now I think—I don’t know how to explain it, he’s so…natural. His smile, everything he says, it’s all…I like him.” Jin claps rapidly and bites back a smirk and Yoongi doesn’t even notice. “Yeah, I like him.”

He hates how Namjoon breaks things. Yoongi knows he shouldn’t let the man in his car, because it’s fragile enough already and Namjoon finds a way to break everything possible. Never before has he seen Namjoon break a car door handle, however. The handle comes clean off in the parking lot of some store and Namjoon just picks it up from the ground and says, “Oh. I’ll pay for it.” Yoongi doesn’t want charity, he doesn’t want an apology, he just wants friends who aren’t such disasters. He drags Namjoon to the auto parts shop anyway.

And who else would possibly be there besides Jimin?

Yoongi lies low for a solid two minutes, before they both wind up in the hardware aisle and Namjoon says, “Hey, you wash Yoongi’s car sometimes, don’t you?” and that bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

The boy’s head perks up and he smiles and Yoongi wants to die right there. “You’re the tan Buick, right?” He’s short, and Yoongi likes that because he’s no flagpole himself.

Yoongi nods slowly and is intent on searching for a door handle again when Namjoon steps on his heel and sends him a smug grin. So he speaks: “Yeah. You like cars or something?” He realizes two seconds later that it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever asked, because why else would Jimin work at a car wash and be at an auto parts shop? Even Namjoon sighs at the question.

Jimin’s smile grows wider anyway, and it stretches all the way to his eyes. “Yep! I want to wash a really fancy car someday, like a Maserati or a Porsche, but all we ever get are rusty old ones,” His hand covers his mouth, and it reminds Yoongi of the first time they ever talked. “There’s nothing wrong with that, though!”

He’s about to say something impulsively, probably like, ‘I like it when you wash my car’ or ‘If I buy a fancy car you’ll be the first one I call’ but Namjoon’s phone ringing saves him from embarrassment. “It’s my Princess, gotta take this.” Yoongi almost vomits before his friend dashes away.

“So… a door handle?” Jimin asks, looking down at the bin Yoongi’s hand has been resting in.

“That clumsy idiot severed it from my car,” He gestures to wherever the hell Namjoon disappeared to. “And I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m great at reading instruction manuals.”

Jimin laughs and it’s so beautiful. Nothing Yoongi’s ever said is worthy of that laugh. “I could help you install it. If you want.”

Of course he wants. “Would you? I imagine your car’s pretty in’ if you can just install whatever you want.” He’s rambling.

Jimin’s expression is almost bashful. “I don’t have a car, actually. I’m saving up.” It’s cute, the idea of Jimin saving for a car by working at a car wash.

But of course Yoongi has to turn around and be his usual self. “Are you not old enough to drive? You’re just window shopping, then?”

If Jimin cares that he’s rude, Yoongi can’t tell. It’s wonderful. “Hey, I’m old enough! I’m twenty-one!” That’s the best news of Yoongi’s week. “And someday I’ll buy everything here for real. Now let’s get you a door handle.”

He helps Yoongi find a handle specifically for his car, and he can’t help but think the boy should be a mechanic rather than a car washer. Yoongi pays for it only because he can’t find Namjoon anywhere. “I’ll do it right now!” Jimin insists, “My friend drove me here, and he’s got tools in his trunk.” And how can Yoongi say no?

Jimin’s kneeling on the ground, his sleeves rolled up and a concentrated look on his face, when he says, “I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin.”

I know. “Min Yoongi.”

He laughs. “I already knew that, actually.” Yoongi doesn’t feel so ashamed that he knew Jimin’s name. “Your friend said it, I mean.”

“It’s fine.” Before he knows, there’s a new shiny accessory on his car and a proud-looking Jimin next to it. Yoongi reaches into his pocket and pulls out the first thing that feels like money. He’s glad it’s 5 000 won and not 20 000. “For your service.”

Jimin looks good with a blush on his cheeks. “Oh, no, I wanted to help, I can’t—”

The cash finds itself in Jimin’s hand. It’s warm. “No, you’ve gotta save up for that car you want.” He spots Namjoon through the window behind Jimin. “Time for me to get my Moron back. I wanted to help you, too, you know.” And maybe it’s too sappy or too honest, but Yoongi is in an honest mood. “See you next week, probably.”

Yoongi only notices it’s autumn when Jimin starts wearing jeans. He loses the toned features from the summer, and Yoongi doesn’t mind. He accepted long ago that no matter what Jimin does, he’s flawless.

Jimin’s chatty in the fall. He asks Yoongi every time he’s washing his car, “How has your week been?” and it’s out of such pure curiosity that Yoongi wonders what he did to deserve this.

The only time he doesn’t drive is when Jin’s in the car. His room-mate enjoys driving, and ‘could driver better and more stylishly than you if I were in a coma.’ But this time, Jin’s not taking him to lunch, like they’d discussed an hour before. “Where the are we going.” He already knows.

“The Car Wash,” Yeah. “I’m meeting your man.” Yoongi wants to die. For the first time, he hopes Jimin’s not there.

He is, of course. And there’s no one in line. The dark-haired one comes up to Jin’s window with a surprised look on his face. “Uh, regular, premium, or—”

“Regular.” Yoongi answers from across the car. Jimin comes hurrying out of the building and straight to the driver’s side, and Yoongi didn’t realize he’s been doing that recently. Upon seeing Jin, who’s radiating positivity and control and is the complete opposite of Yoongi, Jimin seems a bit lost. Yoongi rolls down the window.

“Hi,” Jimin says. He’s doing an especially poor scrubbing job today. “New friend?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes in Jin’s direction, knowing perfectly well that Jin is practicing his best eavesdropping then. “Old room-mate.”

“Ah.” And he goes back to washing just like that and Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s quiet today.

When they pull out of the Car Wash and Jimin waves to Yoongi and he just sighs in response, Jin whispers, “You’re so whipped. You’re so freaking whipped and I love it.”

He wants to know Jimin. He’s never wanted to know everything about one person before. He asks one day, “So what do you do, Jimin?”

“Hm?”

“Are you a student, a young single father, a male stripper after 9? Give me something to work with here.”

Jimin puts down the sponge and leans against the door. “One of those is right.”

Yoongi loves this, the back-and-forth he and Jimin have. It’s amusing, it’s stimulating, it’s frustrating. “I could see you working a pole.” The answer is too honest.

The boy reaches into the car and smacks Yoongi’s shoulder lightly. “I’m a student, majoring in mechanical engineering. I’m in my first year.” He’s impressed, because Jimin doesn’t seem particularly smart, but he does have more than enough passion. “What about you?”

“I’m graduating this year, as a fine arts major,” says Yoongi, “I took the easy route.” He pauses, “I thought you were in high school at first.”

Jimin laughs. “Jungkook’s the only one in high school here. Why, were you worried?” He’s forward. Yoongi loves it.

“Maybe a little.”

He thinks about kissing Jimin more than he’d admit to himself. The idea roots itself in his mind whenever Jimin’s tongue passes over his lips or when he bites on the lower one in concentration. And unfortunately for Yoongi, both of those are habits for Jimin and Yoongi can hardly take his eyes off of the boy’s mouth. His sunglasses are always on whenever Jimin washes his windshield or breathes on the glass. He thinks about it, too, when Jimin’s not even there. It became commonplace for Yoongi to touch his own lips lightly, sometimes just before midnight and sometimes hours after, and imagine how it would feel to kiss Jimin.

In winter, Yoongi pulls scarves over his mouth so nobody knows he’s smiling. He’s smiling because of the way Jimin bites his lip when he kicks the icicles from above Yoongi’s wheels. He’s smiling because of the little jumping dance Jimin does to stay warm. And because of the way he draws his sweaters around him or throws snowballs at Yoongi’s windshield when he pulls up.

He doesn’t smile when Jimin’s not there. “Where’s that kid? Jimin?” Yoongi turns his music down for once and leans his head out the window. Hoseok pinches his arm from the passenger seat, but Yoongi ignores it.

The boy, the one with dirty blond hair and a crazy look in his eyes, stops washing his door for half a second. “Oh, he’s sick.” Yoongi didn’t imagine someone like Jimin could get sick. “He gets sick a lot in the winter, overworking himself and all that. I tell him home remedies all the time, but he doesn’t listen. You’re the one he talks about, I think. I checked in on him this morning and he said, ‘but what if Yoongi comes today?’ real dreamy-like.”

This comes as a more-than-mild shock to Yoongi. His ears heat up and he tries to keep a straight face picturing it. “Did he? Even when he’s sick?” It’s more of an internal question, spoken out loud. He sees Hoseok teetering on the edge of his seat in his peripheral.

The boy goes back to scrubbing. “Nope, I was just messing with you.” He looks up at Hoseok’s amused squealing, and Yoongi grips the steering steel when his friend reaches across him to meet the boy for a high five.

“You shoulda went for this one instead, Yoongi!” Hoseok says it too loudly, only realizing his mistake half a second later. “I mean, if you were into Jimin at all. But you’re not, so…”

The car washer smiles and lowers his voice. “Seriously, though, I think he likes you. He always checks his hair whenever your car pulls into line.” He dunks his sponge back into the water, “But if you tell him I said this, say you heard it from Jungkook.”

Hoseok grows deadly serious. “And are you Jungkook?”

“No.” The boy laughs and moves onto another section of the car, and right before Yoongi turns up the radio he hears the one who is presumably Jungkook call, “Hey, is this a new door handle? I didn’t even notice!”

There aren’t many reasons to get his car washed in winter, because even though there’s only a thin coat of snow it still gets stuck in every crevice of the car; getting it washed is essentially pointless. But Yoongi doesn’t need much to force an excuse.

Jimin knows it, too, and he sees right through Yoongi when his sunglasses are in hibernation. “Do you know we’ve only had two customers in three hours?” He says, leaning on the window frame. “Not many people get their cars washed in winter. Do you have to so you can make an impression or something?”

Only on you. Yoongi laughs because Jimin is absolutely right and he has no reason to be there. “No.” And then Jimin is laughing too, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I just like wasting time and being broke.” But there’s nothing he’d rather do with his time, and it’s worth everything.

He’s losing sleep because of Jimin. He stays awake at night and just wonders what it would feel like to call Jimin at that moment and hear his voice. Some of the thoughts are innocent and some of them aren’t. But he’s still losing sleep, he’s losing money, and he feels like he’s losing time.

And they’re back to spring. And Jimin’s energy is back and his sneezes are back and his shorts are back, and Yoongi doesn’t want to start all over.

But he doesn’t try to change anything. He keeps making his car dirty on purpose, keeps showing up at the Car Wash, keeps telling Jimin how his week was and nothing else. He starts wearing sunglasses again so he can look at Jimin without being noticed (but he thinks the crazy-looking employee notices), and he feels like breaking. Because at that point, he’s already broke from the inside of his wallet to the outside, and he feels the resolve he’d strengthened for years and years weather away.

The worst part, he decides, is that Jimin has been the same all year. His smile is the same, his voice is the same, his energy and the brightness in his eyes, it’s all the same. And Yoongi’s weaker with every visit—he taps his steering wheel more, his voice is rougher, he swallows more with each time Jimin’s eyes meet his. He wants to see Jimin outside of the car wash, wants to stay up late talking to him and laugh with him and hold him.

His car is fine. It doesn’t need to be washed. It could rot in hell and Yoongi wouldn’t care. He’s more worried about Jimin getting tetanus from all the rust than he is about his paint chipping from all the washes.

He’s just tired.

He comes home and Jin’s sitting at the table, staring at his phone. “You two fighting?” Yoongi asks.

Jin just laughs at that. “No. It’s…temporary. Just until he admits I’m right.”

Yoongi wonders what it is this time, what stupid, insignificant detail his friends decided to argue about today. He’s never seen them have a large, full-on fight before, but their little disputes are frequent. And yet they keep coming back to each other.

He wants that. Wants someone to argue with. It’s pointless and nonsensical, but he wants it. Yoongi wishes he had a person so different from him that they could disagree and it wouldn’t matter, because they’d still be together at the end of the day.

“What did he do?” Yoongi sits down across from Jin.

Jin rests his head on the table. “That’s not important. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.” He unlocks his phone, as if to make sure he hadn’t out for a second and missed Namjoon’s call.

“You really love him,” Yoongi says it to himself, but Jin nods slowly anyway. “Then apologize.”

Jin picks his head up only to slump backward and end up half under the table. “That’s not how it works.”

Yoongi has never seen his room-mate move as fast as he does when his phone buzzes three minutes later. He just stares at his phone for a few seconds and leans back in his chair. “It’s fine now. He’s coming over.” Jin smiles and Yoongi can see all his teeth. “Would you mind…?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Yoongi catches on. “I’ll give you two some space.”

And Yoongi might be an in general, but he’s a good room-mate. He really is. And he hopes Jin does the same for him one day.

He’s alone when he sees Jimin walking down the street. It’s by sheer chance; he’s never seen Jimin on the street before, nor has he ever been driving at this time. And it’s about to rain. He rolls down his window. “Park Jimin!”

The boy’s head snaps up and he looks around frantically. Yoongi calls, “Need a ride?” and delights in the full smile Jimin grants him.

And that’s how Jimin ends up in his car for the first time.

It’s awkward at the start, a silence stretched thin between them. Jimin breaks it: “So,” he turns to Yoongi, “how has your week been?”

Yoongi shrugs and takes his eyes off the road for a moment to just look at Jimin. “Same as it was two days ago, I guess. You?”

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse.” Jimin says, and Yoongi knows what he means. “I’m fine now that I don’t have to walk home in the almost-rain.” He tells Yoongi to drop him off at his college, which surprises Yoongi because they’re nowhere close to it and Jimin was about to walk the entire way there.

Yoongi doesn’t turn up his music. He wants to hear everything Jimin has to say, “How is it,” he asks, “working at the Car Wash?”

There’s nobody on the street that night. It’s late, after rush hour and after date-night hour and after dinner hour. The only car in sight is his old Buick. “It’s not my dream job or anything,” Jimin smiles, “but I’m glad I’m making money. The other guys there, Taehyung and Jungkook, they’re pretty cool. Tae’s in a few classes with me, actually. Jungkook’s a trouble maker, though.” He laughs quietly. “He says I’m not a good scrubber. He’s only joking, though. I mean, I know I’m not super thorough.” It’s sad, Yoongi thinks, that Jimin only talks this much when it’s about his faults, “You don’t think I’m that bad, do you?” He does. He thinks Jimin is the worst employee in that place, the one who’s always knocking buckets over and laughing it off or forgetting that the trunk of the car exists. “I guess I have some things to work on. My washing and my drying, too. I should just break out a hose—”

“Jimin.” Yoongi can see him out of the corner of his eye, the streetlamps they pass illuminating him for a second at a time. “Shut the up. You’re perfect.”

He doesn’t really hear Jimin the first time he says ‘Pull over’; he thinks he’s imagining it. But then Jimin repeats himself, “Yoongi, pull over.” and there’s a certain urgency in his tone that causes Yoongi’s car to drift automatically into the nearest parking lane.

Yoongi puts the car in park, shuts off the engine, gives his full attention to Jimin. Maybe it’s just the time, just the night casting shadows, but there’s something in his eyes… “What is it? We’re not at the college y—”

The car washer’s hands are on his shoulder then, burning into his thin jacket, and he leans forward so Yoongi can taste his breath and smell him and everything is so Jimin. He whispers, ‘Let me kiss you,’ and Yoongi just nods and holds onto him right back.

There’s one person on the street; Yoongi can see them out his windshield. But he doesn’t care who they are or where they’re going, because they aren’t Jimin. Jimin is in his car, body hovering halfway across the gearshift, just kissing him. And Yoongi’s not shy about it, either. He gives Jimin everything he has, touching his tongue to Jimin’s lips, threading fingers through soft brown hair. The sounds Jimin makes—Yoongi is positive he did nothing to deserve those sweet hums and gasps. At some point that Yoongi doesn’t remember, they both unlock their seatbelts and Jimin’s head brushes the roof of the car when he tries to get more leverage.

He never wants to stop. He wants to sit with Jimin’s mouth on his and Jimin’s hands on his body for eternity. He takes shallow breaths in between kisses, and loses it all when he feels Jimin’s smile on his skin. “, Jimin,” he whispers, “do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like this?”

Jimin’s shy lips are light against his neck. “Yeah,” He explores Yoongi’s jaw, and it’s so good, “Me too.”

It winds down after that, the heat and emotion still present but the kisses melt into giggles and sighs. Yoongi holds Jimin’s head when he lays it on his shoulder. “I’ve never kissed anyone in this car before,” Yoongi muses, and it earns him a laugh.

“I’ll consider myself special, then.”

Yoongi starts the engine and presses his lips to Jimin’s forehead. “Good.”

He curses himself and the day he was born when he realizes he didn’t get Jimin’s number.

Jin and Namjoon are watching a movie on the couch when he walks in. And Yoongi doesn’t mean to sigh as breathlessly as he does, but he sees two heads peek over the top of the sofa anyway, and his room-mate says, “We were just watching a movie, I swear. We weren’t doing anything—Oh, my God, what happened to you?”

He stands up and rushes over to examine Yoongi, knocking Namjoon off the couch in the process. “What do you mean?” Yoongi tries to sound as normal as possible, but no amount of deception could ever get past his room-mate. Namjoon is by Jin’s side in an instant, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi.

“Yeah,” he says, “there’s something weird about you.”

Jin’s face scrunches up in concentration. “Let’s see, Joon. The symptoms are flushed cheeks—”

“It’s ing cold.”

“—wobbly balance—”

“I tripped over Namjoon’s huge- shoes.”

“—and glazed-over eyes.”

“I’m a living zombie, Jin, we’ve been over this.”

“Now what could make our friend experience these very interesting symptoms?”

Namjoon hums in amusement. “I don’t know, dear. Perhaps a job promotion? Oh, but our Yoongi here is unemployed. Maybe he won the lottery? I didn’t think he entered, though.” he shrugs and shakes his head. “What do you think happened?”

Jin tousles Namjoon’s hair. “You’re useless, Joon. But I think I’ve seen that face before…” he gasps theatrically, and Yoongi curses that he has a degree in drama. “Yes, I know that face! Could it be that our Yoongi is in love?”

He wants to melt through the floor. Or evaporate into the air and never talk to these people ever again. “I always knew you were brilliant, Princess. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Yoongi takes his head in his hands and groans. “Both of you had better zip it the up or I’ll tell Jin all about the time you made out with Hoseok and I’ll tell Namjoon about the time you blew 200 000 won with his credit card.”

“You did what?” Jin sends a shocked glare at Namjoon.

The taller man throws his hands in the air. “Well I would never do it now, we were drunk and it was before I met you. I cleansed my lips after, too.” He wraps an arm around Jin’s only to recoil it a second later. “Wait, you used my credit card?”

“It was to buy a gift! And I paid you back the same day, kind of. With cookies.”

“Was this last week? I knew those were guilt cookies!” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Who did you even buy a gift for?”

Jin scoffs, “Myself.”

Yoongi tries to slip away then, toeing his shoes off as quietly as possible, but it’s of no use. Jin catches his wrist. “Ah-ah, Mr. Blackmail, you’re staying here and telling us what happened.”

“It’s nothing, I just gave someone a ride.” he says hastily, and attempts an escape again.

“No, no, no.” Namjoon’s face grows serious. “Would this ‘someone’ happen to wash cars for a living and have an you think is cute but in no way compares to Jin’s?”

Yoongi slumps against the door. “ you.”

He shows up to the Car Wash two days later. He wanted to come earlier, wanted to see Jimin, but thought it was too much too soon. Apparently, news travels fast at the Car Wash, because as soon as he pulls in he can hear the other boys giving Jimin wolf-whistles and making obscene gestures (mostly on behalf of the one he think is Jungkook). He brings Hoseok with him for emotional support, and also because “I like the blond one. He’s a keeper.” Yoongi had neglected to tell Hoseok about the fact that he’d made out with Jimin rather passionately right where they were sitting. Fortunately, his friend’s natural obliviousness kept him from noticing anything out of the ordinary.

Jimin taps playfully on his window and Yoongi rolls it down at the same time he takes his sunglasses off. “What’s all the commotion here today?”

The boy lets out a nervous laugh and brushes it aside. “Oh, nothing, they’re just—they’re just being idiots.” It’s like nothing happened between them, like Jimin wasn’t in his car two days ago. He’s not sure if it would be worse or better to have an awkward atmosphere rather than this complete ignorance of the subject.

A rogue sponge appears out of nowhere and hits Yoongi’s windshield, the blond culprit just beaming a guilty smile. “We’re being ourselves, Jimin.”

“Anyway,” Yoongi lowers his voice so Hoseok can’t hear, “You forgot something on Friday.”

Jimin looks confused. “I did? I don’t think so…”

He vaguely catches the outline of two young men motioning jerkily for Hoseok to listen in, and ignores it. “Oh, really? Then why haven’t you been blowing up my phone every waking hour, as well as some non-waking ones?”

Jimin considers the question for a second, still not catching on. “Because I don’t have your numbe—Oh!” His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah. Yeah, I can get that for you.”

Hoseok’s loud voice pipes up from behind Yoongi. “Wait a second, did I miss something?”

The dark-haired one pauses in washing the car and knocks a few times on Hoseok’s window until he rolls it down. “You’re pretty out of the loop, then. Jimin here went for a walk on Friday night, ended up in your friend’s car, and face with him for like an hour. Apparently it was pretty hot, but that’s just what I’ve heard.” Hoseok’s jaw goes slack in shock.

Jimin’s face is cute when it’s bright red like this. “Guys, stop, I’ve never done anything to you!”

“In his defense,” the blond one interjects, “we did con him into telling us.”

The next second, Hoseok is shaking Yoongi at the shoulder and letting out enthusiastic screams. “Ah, this is so exciting!” he reaches across Yoongi to offer Jimin a handshake. “I don’t think we’ve met officially. I’m Jung Hoseok, Yoongi’s best and most handsome friend, no matter what Jin says.”

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you.” Jimin’s hand is being put through the vibrating torment that is a Hoseok handshake. Yoongi thinks, for a moment, that Jimin and Hoseok could be good friends someday.

“You’re Jimin, right? Oh, Yoongz talk about you all the time. Seriously, I can never get him to shut up! One time—”

“That’s enough, Hoseok.” Yoongi swats his hand away from Jimin’s.

He does get Jimin’s number, in the end. It’s presented to him on a napkin with water droplets smearing the ink, and he swears Jimin’s hand is shaking when he gives it to Yoongi. And Yoongi says he’ll call.

He never calls. Never texts. He’s a coward. The amount of times Yoongi’s thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button or the ‘call’ button—he lost track. And Jimin doesn’t call him either.

They’re nothing after that. They float between titles; Yoongi wouldn’t mind calling Jimin his lover, but he can’t even call Jimin his friend, really. They’re just two people, but Yoongi feels a connection to Jimin that’s more than strangers or friends feel.

He keeps getting his car washed. Keeps dragging his out of bed at 2:00 P.M. (because it’s summer and he just wants to sleep) and driving to that hell-hole car wash.

Jimin wants something. Yoongi can’t figure out what it is (he can guess all day long but doubts it’s anything as unrealistic as what his mind can create) but he makes it his goal. Yoongi almost squeezes it out of Jimin once by complimenting him where it will make an impact. ‘Did you get a haircut, Jimin? Looks nice.’ ‘I like that shirt on you.’ ‘You’ve been working really hard this summer, haven’t you?’ Until his foot hovers over the gas pedal and Jimin says, “Yoongi, wait a second.” He does. He would wait a thousand seconds to know what Jimin wants.

Hearing the words, “Never mind. I forgot.” fall off Jimin’s sweet lips makes all the air flow out of Yoongi’s body. He would wait a thousand seconds, but he’s already been doing that. He’s waited for so long, longer than he would have for anybody else.

“That’s fine.” And he wants to ask Jimin to go somewhere, anywhere, because they can’t do anything here. But all he lets out is a, “See you next week.” and lets the cycle repeat itself.

Yoongi decides to give it a try. He’s done waiting. So he drives back to that same street on the same day he first picked Jimin up in his car, and sure enough they boy’s there again. “Park Jimin!” he calls into the dark for a second time, and Jimin’s smile is a beacon in the night. Jimin rushes over to the old car and climbs into the passenger seat. “I didn’t invite you in, Jimin,” Yoongi teases, “But I guess I could give you a ride.”

He sees Jimin’s small hands gripping the hem of his thin shirt and he sees the way Jimin bites his lip, and knows the boy is nervous. Because it weighs heavy between them, a question: Do you remember what happened last time?

“Do you just want me to drive you to your campus,” Yoongi asks, “or do you want to maybe go for a drive?”

Jimin laughs a little bit, and suddenly all the tension they’d created for no reason is gone. “Is it going to be just a drive?” He can see Jimin smirking, and it’s one of those times where Jimin is trying to be forward but it just comes off as shy.

“It can be whatever you want.”

He doesn’t reply for a while, he just sits and rakes his fingers through soft brown hair. Finally, he says, “Then pull over.”

It’s not as frantic as Yoongi expected. He manages to maneuver his car safely into some parking space on some secluded road; he had no idea where they are and that’s okay. And then he bridges across the gear shift, swipes his thumb along Jimin’s cheek, and one of them (he’s not sure who) inches forward to brush their lips in a most teasing way. It’s like permission. Yoongi can feel everything sane inside him just disappear; he’s waited so long. And he thinks, somewhere in between when Jimin unbuckles to get closer and when he leeches onto Yoongi’s collarbone, that this is where he’s supposed to be.

They end up in the same seat, reclined until it’s horizontal. And Jimin’s knees are hugging Yoongi’s thighs and when their hips bump together Yoongi swears he can see heaven. It looks like Park Jimin, the thinks. He kisses Jimin deeply that night, with everything he has, and it crosses his mind that he wants to do this every day. That he wants to be with Jimin. “I like you so much,” he whispers it between kisses and hopes Jimin believes him, “I really do.”

Jimin takes Yoongi’s face in his hands and plants kisses on his cheeks, on his nose, on his forehead. “I like you, too.”

He hopes there’s nobody else on the street. Especially not some crime-seeking cop peering into car windows at night, who’d look into Yoongi’s car and see how Jimin’s shirt is pushed halfway up his back or how Yoongi’s hair is a mess and his neck is darker than it was thirty minutes ago.

Yoongi knows, a while later when he’s holding onto Jimin’s hand and he sees Jimin’s smile even in the dark, that things are going to be different. “I know I said I was going to call,” Yoongi says, “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t remember the last time he apologized to anyone.

“It’s okay,” Jimin squeezes his hand and Yoongi feels the warmth of it go right though him. “I was going to call you, too, but I got nervous.” Yoongi loves that Jimin just says what he thinks; it’s refreshing. And it was what Yoongi thought as well, but Jimin talks braver than he does.

Jimin turns to him and smiles. “I’m really starting to like this car,” he says, “Even if it’s old, I still like it.”

The older one lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah? Well I think it’s a piece of ,” he plays absently with Jimin’s fingers, “But I like it when you’re in the car.” It’s just the right amount of sappy to earn him another kiss.

When he gets back to his apartment that night, Jin is already asleep and Yoongi just flops down on his bed and breathes more naturally than he has in weeks. He sends a text that night, the first of many he’ll send to Jimin, and thinks about all the money he spent getting his car washed. I was all worth it.

To: Jimin xx

11:23 P.M.

hey i’m coming to the car wash tomorrow and youd better give me a nice greeting so your friends get off my

It only takes him a minute to send another text, for good measure.

To: Jimin xx

11:24 P.M.

sleep well

He shows up at the Car Wash the next day, catches Jimin’s eye, and sees that undeniable glint hidden in it. The boy bounces over to him and drops any sponges or rags he has on the ground, just so he can tilt Yoongi’s head up and give his cheek a sloppy kiss. Yoongi loves the sight of two jaws dropping, and a horn honking somewhere behind them. And for one second, he loves his car and his embarrassing friends and the lack of money in his wallet. He loves it.

Jin asks him later that night the same question Hoseok asks him days later: “Why are you smiling so much?”

And both times, Yoongi shrugs and says, “Should I be frowning? I ing love my car.”

-Two years later-

Yoongi dangles the dull set of keys in front of Hoseok’s face. “Do you want it?” his tone is teasing enough for Hoseok to laugh, but there’s a sort of heaviness supporting his words.

“Honestly, I’m considering. Never had a car before.” Hoseok leans back on the heap of metal. “How do you think he’s gonna take the news?”

“Who, Jimin?” Yoongi winces. “I already told him. It didn’t go over well.”

Hoseok grits his teeth and takes a sip of water. It’s a hot day, and the heat reminds Yoongi of all the summer afternoons he spent at the Car Wash. “I can imagine,” Hoseok says, “I mean, after all you guys have been through…”

Yoongi sighs and tosses the keyring on the hood of his car. “I just needed a change. It’s been years, after all.”

“I understand. Well, not really, but I get what you’re saying.” He climbs on top of the hood (it’s a brave move, considering the metal’s probably molten in this sun) and strikes a provocative pose while twirling the keys on one finger. “So, when are you picking up the new babe?”

“’Babe’?” mocks Yoongi, “It’s a car, not a hooker. We’re going tomorrow.”

A distinct voice presents itself and Yoongi can see a familiar silhouette appear in the doorway of his apartment. “Hello, my darling!”

Yoongi knows Jimin’s not talking to him, but still mumbles ‘Hi, Jimin,’ anyway. Jimin bounds down the stairs and heads straight for the Buick, getting a hand from Hoseok to easily slide onto the hood. He pats the edge of the car, flinching when his skin comes in contact with the hot surface. “How’s my one true love?”

Hoseok grasps his heart dramatically and makes a kissy face at Jimin.  “My goodness, Jimin, I never knew you felt that way about me. And in front of Yoongi, too...”

The boy reaches over and pushes Hoseok off of the car, earning a scream. “Not you, geez. I’m talking about this fine specimen right here.”

“Jimin, it’s a pile of junk.”

“You sad to see it go, Jimin?” Hoseok asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Jimin sits next to Yoongi and nestles his head into the man’s shoulder. “Yeah,” He looks up at Yoongi briefly. “We had our first kiss in this car, remember that?”

“No, Jimin, I completely forgot our first kiss.” Yoongi taps lightly on his own lips. “Refresh my memory.”

The younger man laughs and gladly complies. It’s just a peck, nothing explicit, but it’s enough to make Hoseok scream. “My eyes! No PDA in broad daylight!”

“Shut up, just because you aren’t getting any doesn’t mean you have to take it out on us.”

Jimin winks at Hoseok, “Hey, Taehyung’s single, by the way. The blond one, you know? Well he’s not blond anymore, but still… Just talked to him yesterday.”

“Ah, he was a cutie.” Hoseok sighs, “What’s he up to now?”

Yoongi mumbles under his breath, More than I ever thought he’d be up to. “He’s managing the Car Wash now, actually. Apparently they have fancy hoses and colored soap and everything. He told me he washed a Lamborghini last week.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Hoseok chuckles and messes with Jimin’s hair, “Do you miss working there?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I worked there forever, you know? All through high school, too. But it was just a way to make money, never a real job. I’m a lot happier fixing cars than I am washing them.”

Yoongi’s proud of him. To have wanted something so badly for years and to finally have it, he can’t imagine what that feels like (well, maybe he can a little). Yoongi had to get a job, too, when Jin moved out. His modest graphic design position doesn’t pay much, but he’s found ways to mooch off of his new room-mate, who is unfortunately Hoseok.

“Look on the bright side,” Yoongi pats Jimin’s leg reassuringly, “Tomorrow we can give the new car a test drive.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Gross. Seriously, though, are you selling this car?”

“No.” Yoongi cuts in before Jimin can say anything. “No idiot would buy this sack of .”

“I would.” Jimin immediately counters him. “Just for sentimental value.”

His room-mate eyes Yoongi skeptically. “You don’t seem too sad about it, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shrugs and says, “Should I be frowning? I ing hate my car.” It’s a straight lie. “Besides, we’re crashing the Kim residence tomorrow night and stealing their food. Namjoon said there’s casserole. That’s nothing to frown about.”

He feels Jimin’s hand close around his. “It’ll be okay, Yoongi.”

Yoongi knows he’s not talking about the new car, or the casserole. So he locks their fingers together and squeezes Jimin’s hand like he has a thousand times before. He looks down at the car and all the familiar patterns of rust. He thinks about the AM radio and the trunk with key marks in it and the door handle that’s shiner than the rest, and he smiles. “Yeah. It’ll be okay.”

C'est fini! Aw, I love writing Yoongi. I never swear in real life, so it's an experience, albeit not the most wholesome one. If I messed up in editing somewhere, please don't hesitate to tell. Hope everyone liked it!