Jimin pat his face dry of sweat and sunk dramatically to the floor. Yoongi was focused; his tongue stuck out a bit, fingers melting into the keys in a soothing rendition of “Leaves in the Wind”. Slowly, Jimin crept up behind him and pushed on the man’s shoulders. The piano emitted a strangled noise when Yoongi froze mid-measure. “Geez, you scared me. .”

There was a knock on the door. It was the first time anyone had ever tried to enter the studio while Jimin was there. “Hello, my beautiful friends!” Hoseok. “Permission to enter?”

Jimin called, “Permission granted!” at the same time Yoongi said, “Go away, you clingy bastard!”

Hoseok did enter, shaking his finger accusingly at Yoongi. “Min Suga, do you really want to act this way with our guest around?”

“What do you want, Hoseok.” It was hardly a question.

“I want to watch you practice!” He started clapping and it made Jimin laugh.

Yoongi sunk down into his piano bench. “Fine. It’s Satie’s ‘Gymnopédie No. 1’, not that that means anything to you.” And he put his fingers to the keys.

Jimin began to dance. It was slightly daunting, dancing in front of someone so talented himself, but the dance was one Jimin had completed dozens of times. He wasn’t dancing to the song anymore, he was dancing to his own emotion—how he felt when Yoongi played the piano.

 About two minutes in, at a breaking point in the piece, Hoseok yelled, “Woo! Love you, Park Jimin!” complete with claps and stomps. Jimin tried not to laugh, but he heard Yoongi miss a note behind him and then mutter an apology about it. He missed another note when Hoseok called out, “I’m your biggest fan, Jimin!” Something was off with his playing; Yoongi rarely messed up, and if he did there was never a quiet ‘Sorry’ to follow.

They finished strong, with the final tone bouncing off the studio walls and a standing ovation on Hoseok’s part. “That was amazing! I mean, Yoongi said you could dance but I didn’t think he meant like this.” And even though Jimin was sweaty and burning up, Hoseok gave him a tight hug anyway. Jimin giggled when Hoseok puckered his lips dramatically and kissed the air by Jimin’s cheek. “Muah!”

Yoongi’s piano bench made a loud noise against the floor when he stood up. “I’m heading down to the room for a sec.”

“Is something wrong, Yoongi?” Hoseok detached himself from Jimin. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Yoongi’s laugh was flat. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? There’s water here if you n—”

“—I’m fine.” The door slammed on his way out.

Hoseok was quiet for the first time since Jimin had met him. He tried to laugh it off like nothing had happened. Jimin was concerned; he’d never seen Yoongi act so temperamental. “Do you know what’s up with him?” Jimin asked.

He did know; it was written all over Hoseok’s face. “It’s nothing. He’s just…you know how he gets.”

“Just what?”

Hoseok beamed a smile at Jimin and swung an arm around his shoulders. He didn’t answer Jimin’s question. “Ah, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so friendly. It’s not your fault, little Jimin—it’s mine. But! I’m not allowed to tell you what’s wrong.” His smile grew sad and pretend. Hoseok filled a cup at the water tank, his way of changing subjects. “You’re really a good dancer. And the showcase is gonna be awesome. I hope Yoongi tells you how amazing he thinks you are.” Jimin glanced at the door, not because he’d heard a noise but because he wanted Yoongi to come back. He didn’t notice Hoseok regarding him with sympathetic eyes. “He’ll be fine, trust me.”

So Jimin believed him.

---

There was a week left until the showcase. They should have been practicing as much as possible, and yet Jimin found himself outside with Yoongi, standing where they usually did. “Are you sore?” Yoongi asked, and Jimin supposed it was just to be polite.

“I always am. It’s not too bad.” There was something different that night. It wasn’t they stood closer to each other than before, or that Yoongi had been smiling more often, but something in the air. Then Jimin realized he could breathe; he could breathe in the city around them and Yoongi’s cologne, and he’d never breathed when outside with Yoongi before. He glanced down into the gap between them and Yoongi’s hands looked so lost. “You don’t want a cigarette?”

The man laughed, but it was nervous and week. “Not tonight. I’m thinking of quitting.”

“Seriously?” Jimin failed to contain his enthusiasm.

“Yeah. I just realized, I guess, that it’s stupid. Like I say I smoke because I’m stressed, but it’s a circle. I’m only stressed when I don’t have a cigarette in the first place.” His eyes caught Jimin’s in the night, and there was no shield of smoke to hide their depth. “I started smoking when I was sixteen. It was too early. Once you start doing anything at sixteen, you don’t know how to stop. But now I do.”

Jimin looked down again and saw that Yoongi had two free hands instead of just one. His right hand looked empty without the familiar red dot of light. So Jimin’s own hand glided across the gap between them and curled around Yoongi’s. He was warm, and not because of a flame this time. “I’m glad.”

Yoongi wouldn’t look at him. He looked straight ahead, just somewhere far away, and it didn’t take long for Jimin to notice the lack of focus in his gaze. He’d always do that, just stare at nothing, and Jimin thought it was because Yoongi didn’t know what else to stare at. He applied a light pressure to Yoongi’s hand. And Yoongi still wouldn’t look at him, but he squeezed Jimin’s hand right back.

---

It was one of those times when Namjoon was on the phone at 4 A.M. and Jimin had just woken up. His room-mate was laughing, and as Jimin moved past him to get a glass of water he whispered, “Say hi to Jin for me.”

Namjoon nodded. “Jimin says hi, by the way. Yes, he’s awake. Well, he was asleep. No, you made me laugh so hard it’s probably your fault he woke up.” He lowered the phone briefly and mouthed, ‘He says you should go to sleep’. “Yes, dear, I’m listening. Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, then. I mean, later today. Bye,” he glanced at Jimin quickly and said, “You too.” before he hung up.

Jimin was lingering. Because the kind of dream he’d just woken up from had been that kind of dream, and he couldn’t go back to sleep without picturing Yoongi in his head. Namjoon just looked at him expectantly, then sighed when Jimin stayed silent. “It’s late. I’m gonna get some sleep before the morning.”

“Wait,” Jimin said it without meaning to, but then decided he needed to say what he was thinking. “I just want to talk for a bit.”

Namjoon checked the clock. “It’s 4:21. Who needs sleep anyway?”

It was an invitation. “You remember that guy who brought my jacket over?” Namjoon nodded and smiled, and Jimin was filled with a sudden burst of confidence. “I just want to tell you about him.” He took a deep breath. “His name is Min Yoongi. He’s a senior at Seoul National University, majoring in music composition. We met outside, when I was going for a walk and got scared because of a bug. He leaves his apartment at night so he can smoke. He’s fowl-mouthed and pouty, and he doesn’t have many friends. Sometime he’s like a little kid and sometimes he’s like an old man. This week, I’m doing a dance showcase while he plays the piano. He distracts me and frustrates me and he’s such an .” Namjoon looked at Jimin with all the pity in the world, like Jimin had just shared the saddest story. “And he’s really special to me. I just wanted to tell you.”

Namjoon exhaled and stared at Jimin for a long time. He reached out and rubbed Jimin’s back as if he were a child. “It’ll get better. I promise you, it’ll get better.”

It was an emotion that pulled so lightly on Jimin’s whole body—his head, his stomach, his heart. And Jimin knew that Namjoon had felt that emotion before, whatever it was. So he trusted Namjoon. All he could do was talk; not explain himself or how he was feeling, but just mull over everything he knew and everything he wanted to know, and mix them all together. He didn’t cry. Jimin just took a shaky breath and drifted off to sleep right there on the couch, with fire in his throat and so many questions on his lips.

---

Jimin didn’t remember much about the performance. It wasn’t his best and it wasn’t his worst. The stage was a little too slippery and the lights a little too bright, but that’s all he remembered.

Except for the adrenaline. Excitement pumped through Jimin’s body in a more jittery way than ever before, even though it was hardly an important performance, in retrospect. But it was important to Yoongi, so Jimin guessed it was important in general.

He’d expected Yoongi to be mad at him after the showcase. He did things on the stage that he’d never done in practice, but that was true for every performance. It was the expensive lights and the real crowd, the one he’d tried to picture in the mirror and never truly could. It was the sleek grand piano, with such a different sound than Yoongi’s electronic keyboard, and so Jimin danced differently to accommodate. But Yoongi wasn’t mad. When they went offstage and out into the hallway, Yoongi looked like he wanted to say something. Jimin wouldn’t have paid attention then; he was far too affected by the adrenaline to process anything. All Jimin knew in that moment was that the hallway was empty and he was going to do something stupid if he didn’t calm down.

The feeling was almost like vomit, rising inside of Jimin and threatening to surface. His hands shook and his feet stung and Jimin vaguely registered a strong hand holding him upright at the shoulder. “Do you need some water?” Yoongi’s voice was broken and Jimin could have listened to it forever. “Park Jimin, look at me.” The hands reached his chin and then Jimin couldn’t see anything but Yoongi’s eyes. His head felt fuzzy. “You were wonderful out there. You hear me? Park—”

He kissed him.

It was short and dry and Jimin knew it would happen. He just clutched at Yoongi’s button-down shirt and tugged him forward, only to push him away a second later. And then all of the adrenaline evaporated, leaving Jimin stuttering apologies that he didn’t mean. “It was an accident. I don’t know why—I’m sorry.” Everything that came from his mouth then was a lie, except the kiss. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll forget it if you do.” Jimin had saved every lie up in his life for that moment.

Yoongi’s hand was over his mouth and his breath was heavy. Jimin pretended like he didn’t want to kiss the man one more time. He seemed confused, maybe even angry. Then he looked directly at Jimin and said, “Do it again.”

“I’m so sorry.”

That spark in his eyes, Jimin had never seen it before. “God dammit, Park Jimin, stop ing lying to me. Do it again.” But Jimin was frozen in place; he couldn’t will his body to move. It only took one second of hesitation for Yoongi to change that. He pushed Jimin back against the wall, not roughly but enough so that Jimin would move, and stole Jimin’s lips. “You were wonderful,” He breathed it in between kisses, in between and the pressure of teeth, “You’re wonderful.”

Jimin was lost. Through the wall behind him, he caught the faint tones of “Fantasie-Impromptu” (Which was far more beautiful when Yoongi played it), but everything blended to sound like he was underwater. Jimin felt like he was underwater, afraid to breathe yet never getting enough air. He decided he’d rather drown instead.

And he wanted it. The way Yoongi tilted his head, the soft noises they swallowed, the tongue that would hit his or run across the backs of his teeth—he wanted it. Jimin kissed him back with a desperation he hadn’t known existed. He’d wanted it for so long.

His hands traveled up Yoongi’s back and shoulders and into his hair, just every place he could reach. And Yoongi switched between Jimin’s slim waist and sometimes feeling down to his back pockets and it was electrifying. He tasted like peppermint gum with the underlying flavor of smoke; he’d really been trying to quit, Jimin could tell, but Yoongi would never truly get that taste out of his mouth.

Soon they were reduced to a mess of gasps and breaths, in the middle of a hallway. And Yoongi’s thumb passed over Jimin’s jaw and the way Jimin held onto him, it reminded him of a dream. Yoongi leaned in and kissed Jimin once more, then twice, and he said in that rough voice, “I’m gonna let the director know we’re headed out. We’re taking the subway back to my apartment.” He whispered the next part, “And then you’re mine.”

The subway ride was a blur. He remembered the impatient look on Yoongi’s face, and the way Jimin shyly reached for Yoongi’s hand, but that was it. And after a little walk, Yoongi was unlocking the door to his apartment and then they were alone.

“Thank Hoseok’s not here.” Instead of kissing him again like Jimin had expected, anticipated even, Yoongi pulled two chairs from the edge of the room and said to Jimin, “Talk to me.”

It was the first time Jimin had ever really been inside Yoongi’s apartment, besides to drop his bag at the door and head up to the studio. The room was as clean as ever, and just as empty. Jimin still couldn’t think clearly. “Talk about what?”

“Talk as in, what the did you pull back at the concert hall.”

“Well, I…couldn’t stop it.” Jimin looked down at his lap.

He didn’t know what the expression on Yoongi’s face meant. “For how long now?”

The answer was embarrassing, so he said it quietly. “Since the first time I heard you play piano. Maybe before.”

Jimin’s words sunk in and Yoongi stood up. “That long ago? It feels like a while.” And then, “But I’m not one to talk. I’ve wanted you since you fell asleep in my studio and left your jacket there like some Cinderella .”

Jimin laughed; he laughed out of pure relief, pure exasperation that he’d kept everything in for so long. “This is so embarrassing. I never thought I’d…with a guy…”

“I didn’t see it coming any more than you,” Yoongi looked happy, happier than Jimin had ever seen him. “But I’m glad.” He reached for Jimin’s chair and took his hand. “You’re not bad. Geez, this is so ing cheesy. I’m a wreck. Why do I even bother talking?”

“Then don’t talk.” Jimin stood up as well and he met Yoongi’s eyes. “I don’t want to talk right now, either.”

He was quiet for a bit. “This is why I don’t smoke anymore. You’re gonna be the death of me instead.” And he kissed Jimin in the same way he took Jimin’s heart—gently, quietly, slowly. He touched Jimin as if his skin were made of paper. Jimin’s fingers hooked onto Yoongi’s belt loops and he nipped lightly at Yoongi’s lower lip. It was different from kissing a girl, Jimin thought, but it felt so insanely good that he didn’t care.

In that moment, Jimin realized that it was okay to kiss Yoongi. He was allowed to. Especially for someone so cold on the outside, Yoongi initiating anything was permission enough for Jimin. And if Yoongi wanted to kiss him, Jimin would let him. They’d crossed a line that night, one so fragile that they could never go back to being whatever they’d been before, but Jimin liked it.

He all but lost it when Yoongi’s warm hands moved up under his shirt and he breathed, “, I forgot you have a dancer’s body,” Yoongi was a sneaky man, having slowly paced himself and Jimin over to the nearest sofa without Jimin even noticing. Yoongi lowered Jimin down so carefully, and then they were horizontal and Yoongi’s knee was between Jimin’s thighs and it was bliss.

“Yoongi,” Jimin gasped as the musician’s teeth grazed Jimin’s neck. “Yoongi.”

“Hm?” He felt the hum against his throat.

His hand fell on the back of Yoongi’s head, and it was mortifying to say but Jimin felt it needed to be done. “I’ve never—Never been with a g——with a guy like this,” Yoongi continued his construction on Jimin’s neck. “And I don’t even know how—I mean, what I’m asking is—”

Then Yoongi started laughing, a real laugh where Jimin could see his gums and everything, and Jimin gave up on trying to form coherent speech. He pulled back and gave Jimin a short kiss. “I’m not gonna have with you, Jimin,” It made Jimin’s ears red even hearing the words, “Not tonight.” That definitely made Jimin flush. “You just finished dancing; I’m not that cruel. C’mere,” He shifted a little so they could lay side by side, and Jimin wrapped his arms around the man. Yoongi sighed, “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” Jimin pressed a kiss to the side of Yoongi’s jaw and just breathed. “Really nice.”

They fell asleep like that, with Yoongi’s hands on his waist and Jimin’s face buried in Yoongi’s shoulder, just curled up on the couch. Jimin had no idea where he was when he woke up next. He’d thought it was another dream, but the arms around him and the smell of Yoongi’s cologne told him otherwise. He didn’t want to bother Yoongi, but his wrist had gone numb overnight. “Yoongi,” he whispered, “Wake up.”

He heard Yoongi take in a deep breath and stir to life. “Mhm, Jimin…”

“Yeah?”

Yoongi opened his eyes briefly and looked down at Jimin’s. “Morning.”

Jimin smiled brighter than he had in a while. He tilted his head to look at the clock across the room. “It’s not morning, it’s like 2:30.”

“…In the morning.” That was when he learned how much Yoongi was a cuddler after he woke up. He watched as Yoongi stretched a bit, untangling himself from Jimin. Yoongi felt along Jimin’s cheeks and combed his fingers through Jimin’s hair, hardly aware he was doing it, but stopped suddenly. “Jimin. What the is this.”

“What’s what?”

“In your hair,” Jimin had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s like a pink thing.” He felt a light tug on his scalp as Yoongi removed whatever it was from his hair. “Well ,” Yoongi muttered, “it’s a sticky note.” He turned it around so Jimin could read.

The note was covered in crudely-drawn stars, a very enthusiastic message in the center: ‘YOU GUYS ARE CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

“That’s Hoseok’s ugly- writing.” Yoongi crumple up the note and tossed it across the room. “I should have known.” He kissed Jimin’s forehead almost hesitantly, and Jimin decided he wanted to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life. “You know what, I don’t give two s at this point,” Yoongi wrapped an arm around Jimin’s body again and said, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Jimin whispered, “I can leave if you want. I can just walk home.”

“No,” Yoongi’s voice was muffled by Jimin’s hair, “Stay.”

Leaves in the Wind - Shepard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ArOjEEWs5k

Fantasie-Impromptu - Chopin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBA-38mzabs