“Pssst. Jimin.”

Taehyung pointed behind Jimin with a wobbly hand, as if he’d seen a ghost. “J-Jimin, I think he wants your attention.”

When Jimin turned around, there was no ghost—only smiling Jung Hoseok who waved at the three boys. “Jimin, I’m so glad I found you!”

“Why, is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s the opposite!” Hoseok exclaimed as he grew closer. The man whipped his phone out and hastily turned it on. “I need to show you my new phone background. You’ll love it.”

As soon as Jimin saw the lock screen, he wanted to steal Hoseok’s phone and throw it across the room. It was a picture taken with the flash on, of him and Yoongi sleeping rather cozily on the sofa, and Hoseok’s hand reaching over to plop a pink sticky note in Jimin’s hair. “Delete it!” Jimin tried to pry the phone from Hoseok’s fingers. “No one can see that!”

Hoseok was just laughing. “Never! It’s too cute,” He pinched Jimin’s cheek and Jimin swore Jungkook’s jaw dropped. “Aw, bring it in, Jimin.” Hoseok hugged Jimin so tightly he almost fell off the chair. Jimin heard Taehyung mutter, ‘Can I bring it in, too?’ and he ignored it. “I’m so happy for you. You’ve grown up! You’re a man now!”

Jimin held him at arms’ length so he could breathe again. “I was never a man before?”

“You were, I guess, but now you’re a real man. You have commitment!” Hoseok let out a little squeal. “We should celebrate! Has Yoongi ever seen you drunk? Oh my God, have you ever seen Yoongi drunk? That’s an experience.”

He laughed. “No? I don’t drink, really.”

“I do!” Jungkook seemed to have found his voice, “Me and Tae volunteer in your place, Jimin!”

Hoseok lowered his tone and leaned across the table. “Do you guys know what we’re celebrating?” Taehyung and Jungkook shook their heads dumbly, like Hoseok could tell them anything at that moment and they’d believe it. “Our Jimin here, he—”

“No, please! I’m begging you, don’t tell anyone!”

“—has entered the final stage of his innocence. Now he’s gonna evolve into Adult Jimin. And when he—”

“Seriously, please stop!”

“—and my room-mate take the plunge—”

“Oh, my God.”

“—Jimin will be a boy no longer.”

Jungkook stared blankly and nodded slowly. “Take…’the plunge’?”

Hoseok shrugged. “You’re too young to know.” He patted Jimin on the back and ran away, yelling something like, ‘Stay safe!’ for everyone to hear.

---

The university dance studio was empty after 5:00 on cleaning days. There used to be a student who would lock himself in the studio and dance until his feet went numb, but none of the custodians had seen him around since August ended.

Because Park Jimin had found another dance studio. One with weaker floors and colder air, but one which Jimin preferred, as it came with a piano player.

They’d talked about it. About everything. The very next day, Jimin had gotten his very first voicemail from Yoongi. “Hi,” he said, “it’s me. Yoongi. Listen, I don’t want you to get a bad impression of me. I don’t just go around making out with people. What I’m trying to say is, it would be kind awesome if I could make out with just you. Exclusively. But not only making out. We can, I dunno, maybe eat dinner and stuff, too. Together, I mean. And do the stupid cute that makes Hoseok cry in movies. Because I think you’re not half terrible to be around. Wow, I really sold that, didn’t I? So. If that sounds at all appealing to you, call me back. If not, call me back anyway. Bye.”

He listened to the recording at least ten times, partly because it made him feel special and partly because he liked the sound of Yoongi’s voice. So Jimin called him back. And Yoongi answered. And they just talked, for hours until Jimin’s stomach hurt from laughing and his brain hurt from thinking.

“So I hear,” Jimin said, “that you have a crush on me.”

Yoongi chuckled and it was such a wonderful noise. “And who told you that?”

Jimin pretended to think for a moment. “Can’t remember. Maybe it was Hoseok. Maybe it was you.”

“Well, there are a lot of people in this world who I don’t like, Jimin. In fact, I can’t stand most people. But you’re alright.”

“’Alright’?” Jimin prompted him, dragged him through the conversation.

He heard Yoongi’s sigh through the phone. “Yeah. So ‘alright’ that I want to see you even when you’re not here. It’s stupid. Like remember after the showcase? That was good. It didn’t feel forced, you know? Hey, Jimin, I’m not really good at talking about this stuff.”

Jimin couldn’t say he was, either. He could take care of teasing, could handle the joking flirtatiousness, but when it came down to actual feelings, Jimin became shy. He took a deep breath. “Okay, Yoongi, I’ll make a deal.” Namjoon always said that deals were the one place where nobody could go wrong, because there was compromise and they usually ended up better than worse. “Go on a date with me,” He couldn’t believe the words had just come from his mouth; a smile crept onto his face and Jimin felt the need to say it again, “Just one date. It can be anywhere. And if we like it, that’s great. If we don’t, we’ll…I don’t know, we’ll figure it out later.”

The only sounds through the phone were Yoongi’s breathing and the rustle of paper. Then Yoongi said, “Well, I hope you’re near a calendar, Park Jimin, because that sounds like my kind of deal.” All the air in Jimin’s lungs was released at once. “I’m free Wednesday and Friday.”

Jimin laughed, maybe because of relief and maybe at Yoongi’s apparent excitement. “Friday seems like a ‘date-night’ kind of day, doesn’t it?”

“Perfect. Oh, , Hoseok just walked in and he’s yelling about something. I’ll call you later. See you Friday. Could be earlier if you’re looking for a dance studio to use in the near future.”

“I’ll know where to go,” Jimin said, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

After that, Jimin counted down the days until Friday. He did visit Yoongi’s apartment on Wednesday, and eventually one of them decided on a time and place for their date (6:30, meeting at the spot where Yoongi used to smoke and heading to a barbecue place that wasn’t too expensive for a first date). And when Friday actually did come, it hit Jimin that he was going on a real date, in public, with another man.

On his way out the door, Namjoon stopped Jimin by saying, “Hold up. Where are you going?”

“Just out.” Although he lied frequently, Jimin had never been a good liar.

Namjoon nodded. “Your hair’s messy in the back, by the way.” Jimin’s hand shot up immediately to smooth down his hair, until Namjoon laughed. “I’m kidding. Have fun.”

Jimin did have fun. The most fun he’d had in a while. Sitting across from Yoongi, probably with barbecue sauce around his mouth and just saying whatever came to mind, it was relaxing. Yoongi kept smiling and Jimin loved it. Within twenty minutes, grins were permanently stuck on both their faces. He learned a lot about Yoongi that night—what his family was like, how he started playing piano, and pointless details like how he hated chocolate and how we wanted to be a rapper as a kid (but to Jimin, none of those things were pointless). At one point, he confirmed Jimin’s suspicions: “You have food on your face. But I’m not gonna wipe it off. This is a trial date.” And Yoongi held his hand under the table and everything was okay.

(And Jimin really wanted to pay—he’d even brought his wallet—but Yoongi looked so proud to pay for both their meals that Jimin just couldn’t argue.)

“I’m walking you to your door,” Yoongi told him after they stepped off the subway. It was late, much later than Jimin had expected to be home.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Yoongi smirked. “Too ing bad.”

Jimin wanted a second date. He wanted a second date and a third date and a tenth date and a hundredth date with Yoongi. He wanted to go everywhere in Seoul with that man by his side. But he’d never tell Yoongi that; he just led him through the door and up the stairs instead.

It was déjà vu, the two of them standing in Jimin’s hallway and keeping their voices low so no one would wake up. Jimin dared to walk right up to his door that night, instead of just lingering at the end of the hall. “I had fun tonight,” Jimin whispered, “even if you wouldn’t let me split the bill.”

The silver-haired man just stared at him for a moment, then said, “I had fun, too.” Jimin could tell he was debating something in his mind, something that they both knew, so Jimin decided to do it himself. His hands found Yoongi’s shoulders and he drew Yoongi in, closing his eyes and taking enough time so Yoongi could back out. He didn’t; instead, he angled Jimin’s chin and they met in the sweetest kiss of Jimin’s life. It was light, innocent, and left Jimin greedy. He brushed his tongue cautiously against Yoongi’s bottom lip, and the other man pulled back with a smirk. “Nope, no tongue on the first date.”

Jimin smacked his shoulder playfully. “But what about—”

“That was before the first date, so it was okay then.” He dipped back in and kissed Jimin quickly at the corner of his lips as if to apologize for not wiping the sauce from there earlier. “Bye.” It was the fastest Jimin had ever seen Yoongi move, the way he jogged down the staircase before Jimin could get any more words in. And Jimin just stood there, in front of his door like a lost man, with the taste of barbecue and Yoongi on his mouth.

He tried to shut the door quietly, but Namjoon heard anyway. “You have fun?” he asked.

“Yep,” Jimin was a bit unfocused.

“That’s great. Hey, while you’re over there, do me a favor: you see that thing in the center of the door?”

Jimin turned back around and examined the door for whatever Namjoon was talking about. “You mean the peephole?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Tell me what that does.”

He was confused. “What it does? I don’t know, you can see out of it into the hall—” . “Namjoon, oh my God, I’m done. Never talk about this, never think about it, never bother me for the rest of your life. You’re so messed up and I’m going to bed.”

Namjoon was wheezing with laughter, eventually calming down enough to say, “The tables have turned, Jimin. The tables have turned.”

---

Jimin was grateful for Kim Seokjin. He’d been seeing a lot more of the man recently, as Namjoon figured, “It’s just you, so we really don’t have anything to hide.” Every weekend, Jin would take the two-hour train to Seoul and spend the night at their apartment. It was a good system—good for Namjoon, good for Jin, and also good for Jimin. He couldn’t dislike Jin; there was nothing to dislike. Jimin wondered how Namjoon, who was so clumsy and error-prone, had snagged someone like Jin. The man was undoubtedly put-together and on top of his game, from his polished style to his light-hearted humor, to the aura around him constantly reminding everyone how cool he was.

Jin acted as the big brother Jimin never had. If Jimin saw him on the street, he would have assumed Jin to be a well-off bachelor who threw wild parties and could get any woman he wanted. And he probably could, if he weren’t so taken with Namjoon. Jin’s appearance was no testament to how caring he was, however. If Jimin came back from the studio on a weekend with any kind of injury, Jin would be ing ice packs at him before he even walked through the door. If Jimin was stressed about an upcoming exam, Jin would sit down with him and say, “I don’t remember this, but I’ll try to help.”

And he was perceptive. That was the only complaint Jimin had; the man was too perceptive. Jimin could never hide his smile when he texted Yoongi, and once he glanced up for a moment to see Jin glaring at him. Jin’s judgmental expression reminded Jimin of getting in trouble with his mother. “Park Jimin,” he said, “Who are you texting?”

“Just someone.” Jimin replied.

“Jimin,” Jin’s voice was stern, “would you like to talk about it?”

Yes. He did. And better to talk with Jin than Namjoon. But the answer was always, “No, thank you,” and Jin would just nod and smile.

 Namjoon wasn’t in college. He’d tried, two years ago, but then decided it was a waste of time and money and claimed he could hold a steady job without a degree. And sure enough, four days a week Namjoon reported to a desk job he’d miraculously secured, and ended up with a nicer paycheck than any of Jimin’s other friends. It was almost a running joke between them, where Jimin would come home after a hard day of classes, and Namjoon would ask, “How was school?” as if he had no grasp of the concept.

It was rare for Namjoon to work on Sundays, but someone had to do it and as the youngest employee at the office, that person was usually Namjoon. On those days, Jimin would use every waking hour to avoid studying and hang out with Jin instead. “We’re going out for a No-Namjoon Day,” Jin would say, “Now we can buy whatever we want and say stupid things without Namjoon here to correct us.”

And they’d do anything they wanted to do; Sunday afternoons had become a nearly sacred time for Jimin, because they brought him closer to the man his room-mate loved. He could tell Jin wanted to win him over—he treated Jimin to ice cream and complimented his fashion sense. They’d be halfway through their outing when Jin would sigh, “Namjoon would really like that jacket,” or, “Namjoon would probably hate the font on that sign,” and he’d keep going until it got to, “I wish Namjoon were here.”

Jimin, at those times, would look down at his fudge ice cream and think, ‘Yoongi would say I’m nasty for eating this,’ but he never expressed it out loud, never let Jin know what occupied his mind. Their No-Namjoon days were fun, and stupid, and somewhere along the line Jimin realized that for Jin, they were just a distraction.

---

They started grabbing coffee together every Monday—or, Jimin would get coffee and Yoongi would sip on a strong tea and tease Jimin about how much sugar was in his cup. It just became a thing, another part of Jimin’s routine that he hadn’t expected to exist at all. Like how Jimin would text him, ‘if ur not doing anything meet me outside in 5 bc i dont wanna go to the grocery store alone’ and Yoongi would act like he hated life the whole time, loading the cart with stupid items to see if Jimin noticed.

Jimin would head to Yoongi’s studio on most days. Yoongi wasn’t even there all the time, if he had classes. But it gave Jimin an opportunity to bond with Hoseok and pick up some popping techniques. When Yoongi was there, however, Jimin never got as much dancing in as he’d like. Because if Jimin practiced and Yoongi enjoyed it, he’d give Jimin a hesitant kiss and everything after that became sloppy performance (and sometimes he just stopped dancing altogether).

It was a Saturday when Jimin decided to invite Yoongi over. There was an unfortunate air to Saturdays; they were one of the only free spots in Jimin’s schedule, but at the same time he couldn’t do much because Jin visited on Saturdays.

But Jimin was bored; he was tired of Namjoon and Jin’s eternal heart-eyes, he was tired of the quietness and tired of not seeing Yoongi that day. So he just decided: “I’m inviting someone over to play video games, are you guys cool with that?”

Jin looked slightly hurt. “Aw, is our company not enough for the great Park Jimin?”

“It’s not that, I’m just bored. You have Namjoon anyway.”

He didn’t like the way Namjoon’s lips turned up. “No, you can invite someone over. Especially if their name is—what did you say it was—Min Yoongi?”

The blond’s head shot up. “Who is this ‘Min Yoongi’, Jimin? Have you been holding out on me? Wait, you told Namjoon but not me?”

“I live with Namjoon! And it’s not a big deal,” Jimin suddenly had to play defense on multiple fronts. “I’ll invite him, but it’s just a friendly game session, okay?”

Then Namjoon whispered something to Jin, probably ‘I saw them kissing in the hallway, so don’t believe a word he says,’ and Jin got a scandalized look on his face. Jimin didn’t think about the repercussions—the endless teasing on Namjoon’s part, the endless questions on Jin’s; he just wanted to play Smash and he wanted Yoongi in his apartment.

Jimin had warned Yoongi, through text, that there were other people in his flat, and that might have accounted for Yoongi’s nervous expression when Jimin answered the door. “Hi,” Yoongi said, “I’m ready to kick your now.”

“Are you even good at video games?” He led Yoongi inside, hoping Namjoon and Jin would ignore them over their intense debate over whether forks were better than spoons.

“Nope. If I lose the game, I’ll just kick your for real.” When Yoongi turned around, he came face to face with Jimin’s room-mate.

“Hello, I’m Kim Namjoon,” he shook Yoongi’s hand, and Jimin almost laughed at Yoongi’s wide eyes. “And that pro-spoon traitor over there is Kim Seokjin. Don’t pay any attention to us; we’re going shopping in a few minutes anyway.” When Jimin glanced over at Jin, the man attempted a wink and mouthed ‘You’re welcome.’

Jimin just dragged Yoongi over to the couch and set up Namjoon’s old GameCube. Yoongi moved closer to him and whispered, “Why are your room-mates so tall?”

He laughed, ignoring the way Jin’s head turned when he did so. “I only live with one of them. The other one just shows up on week-ends and makes us food.” Yoongi nodded like that made perfect sense.

Yoongi was a button-masher, Jimin could tell. Unfortunately for Jimin, button-mashing was a valid strategy in Smash, and Jimin lost. More than once.

When Namjoon and Jin left, there was unfortunately no discreet exit or a simple, ‘Bye, Jimin’. It was mostly Jin’s fault, he assumed, that their departure turned into an event. “We’re leaving!” Jin’s voice echoed in the small apartment building, “Be good while we’re gone! That means you, Jimin!” Jimin just rolled his eyes and kept playing.

The door hadn’t been closed for five seconds before Yoongi said, “Pause the game.” And it was that tone of voice, the one Yoongi used to make demands in a nearly shy way, letting Jimin know he was hesitant about something. Of course, Jimin wanted to know what it was; his thumb shifted to the menu button and he turned his head toward Yoongi. It was quick and unexpected, the kiss Yoongi gave him, and the man leaned back with an apology having replaced Jimin’s lips: “Sorry, I just…Nah, I’m not really sorry. I just wanted to.”

Yoongi’s smile, a combination of devious and guilty, made Jimin flustered. He beat away the flushing of his cheeks by slapping Yoongi’s arm. “Geez, you’re something else.” Jimin un-paused the game without warning, just as revenge for catching him off guard. He’d lost all concentration, but perhaps kissing him was all part of Yoongi’s plan to win. Jimin supposed he would have to get used to it, especially since—

“Wait a second,” Jimin paused the game again and turned his head to face Yoongi. “Is this a date?”

The glare Yoongi sent him was impressive. “Jimin, what the hell, I was winning.” he sighed. “Sure, this can be a date. Go nuts.”

That made Jimin sit up a little straighter and rotate his whole body. Jimin’s thought process at that moment was ground-breaking, and he could hardly contain himself. “Then are we dating?”

He saw Yoongi gulp and back away slightly. Apparently Yoongi hadn’t considered that thought either. “I mean, that’s the definition, yeah.”

“Yoongi, we’re dating!” It was such an exciting concept, something that made Jimin feel accomplished. “Dating.” The word tickled his tongue and almost made him giggle; it felt childish, nearly innocent. “So are you…like my boyfriend?”

Yoongi couldn’t hide his smile. “I don’t know, Jimin, I’m not some ing gay romance specialist.”

Jimin pecked his cheek; he didn’t know what else to do or say. He resumed the game, which Yoongi unfortunately won. Halfway through the next round, Yoongi said quietly, “You know, ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t actually sound so bad.”

---

Jimin had never seen Namjoon cry before. The man was so passive, so good at keeping everything bottled up, that Jimin had believed it would never spill over. But there he sat on the sofa, cell phone in hand and Jin rubbing his back calmingly, just staring at the floor and crying.

“What happened?” Jimin asked the question to Jin, only to see tears at the corners of his eyes as well.

“He posted a picture of us on Twitter. It wasn’t even romantic or anything; it was only a picture. And apparently his sister said something, and his parents called about an hour ago, and Joon just snapped and told his parents they were never getting biological grandchildren.” Jin sniffed a bit and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Sorry. Everything just happened so fast. Namjoon was going to visit home next month, and his father said not to show up. And now I’m all sad. I’m an ugly crier, too.”

“You’re never ugly,” Namjoon’s voice was thin.

Jin’s eyes had so much sadness in them, but he managed a weak smile anyway. “That makes one of us.” He knelt down and wiped Namjoon’s face dry with a tissue. “I’ll tell you what, we can order a pizza and put on any movie you want—”

“They’re my family, Jin. How can you love me if my own family doesn’t?”

“They do,” Jin took Namjoon by the wrist and placed kisses on his fingers. “They just don’t understand why your life is different from the one they wanted for you. And sure, today kind of . It’s a sad day; I lost my sunglasses this morning, too. But maybe we just aren’t supposed to be happy right now.”

Jimin stood back and watched them, two people so lost in their own world, and he knew they could make it through anything. He watched Namjoon hold onto Jin like he was the entire universe, and he watched Jin smooth down Namjoon’s hair like they simply cared about each other. “I’m serious,” he heard Jin whisper, “A pizza, a movie, and both of us will feel better for a while.” When Namjoon didn’t reply, Jin said, “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Don’t you dare say it’s your fault.” He was still crying.

Jin pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I love you. It’s nobody’s fault.” They didn’t even care that Jimin was standing right there, because it was true. The phone was placed in Jimin’s hand. “Call the nearest pizza place. I don’t wanna start crying when I order a large cheese and some garlic bread. Please.” 

Yo everyone ok so a user on AO3, gOguma, has been kind enough to compile all the songs used in this fic so far into a playlist here, so check it out! Also, next chapter will be the last, I think. And maybe a Namjin chapter after that?? idk. Let me know what you guys think!