He's been all over the world - Paris, Seoul, Berlin, Hong Kong, Rio; you name it, he's photographed it. His name was the top of everyone's list if they wanted the best. He's been put in some over the nicest hotels around the world, goose-feather pillows, Egyptian cotton sheets, thread counts higher in one towel than most had in their entire house, but nothing could make him feel at ease. This should have been his dream - but it wasn't anymore.

He wanted to go home. He couldn't sleep unless he was home. He missed the comfort and atmosphere of his house. He missed his own crappy bed. He missed his Jimin. 

Jimin. His photos of Jimin were the reason he gained notoriety. Jimin's smiles  
were brighter than any flash. His laugh was more therapeutic than the steady  
clicking of a camera lens. Jimin's presence beside him in bed was the only way  
he could calm his restless mind and get some sleep. God, it's been months since he's been home. 

He needed to go home.

Jimin heard the keys in the front door lock jingle and stilled in the darkened house. He waited for the sound of shoes being kicked haphazardly into the front steps before he spoke, "Yoongi?"
"I'm home."