“Hyung!” His voice comes out a loud whisper. He blinks a few times and his eyes adjust to the darkness. The room is almost completely empty, apart from a few jackets and bags thrown to lean on the walls. This must be where the performers leave their stuff. What else could it be?

Yoongi turns around. He looks like a shadow, Jimin can only see the outline of his hyung.

His fluffy hair, his delicate form, his beautiful hands hanging at his sides. The older tilts his head. “Jimin.”

His voice is low, hushed. But still so loud. Loud enough to cut through Jimin and send shivers down his spine. That husky, honey like perfection was up there on the stage just now, seeping into the microphone and out through the speakers, and into him, into the strangers. I’m a D-boy.

He comes closer. Two steps and he’s right in front of Jimin.

“Are you drunk again?” he asks with one of his lazy smirks.

“... Ummmm… Nooo…” Jimin’s cheeks flush and he looks to the floor. To Yoongi’s Converse-dressed feet.

“Mhm.”