Sometimes it gets to a point where you scream and the sound erupts as bubbles that explode into the nothingness of the vast ocean of productivity, and you are just a rock, sinking.

 

Sometimes you smile and your lips stretch across your face like rubber and you wonder to yourself if the plastic has become a part of you or if you had melded into a new creation that hardly resembled who you had been.

 

Even then, sometimes, you are a normal human being among other human beings, hardly worthy of notice while you continue your act.

 

You are a puppet controlled by another, surrounded by mannequins with painted-on smiles that go about their lives behind glass walls, and you can feel the strings of fate that are holding you up fraying at the ends, unraveling bit by bit.

 

You astound yourself, sometimes, with just who you are, who you could be, who you might be – whether that astonishment is a result of true wonder or bitter irony, well…

 

No one but you has to know.

 

______________________________________

 

 

It was when he was standing in a room staring at six other curious eyes that Jimin realized that this was actually happening.

 

He was actually a trainee and he was surrounded by six other people who were just like him – and oh, wasn’t that wonderful? To be around people with the same desires as you? He ignores the way his stomach clenches slightly – and they were bound together by their shared dream of fame, recognition, passion, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

 

Jimin wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure his cheeks were hotter than they had ever been and he was smiling so hard that it was beginning to hurt.

 

It was the tallest one – Runch Runda? Ah, sorry, Kim Namjoon-ssi – who first stepped up to greet him with a polite smile and warm eyes. Then it was Kim Seokjin-ssi – “Ah, no need for formalities, call me hyung! Or, handsome, whichever you prefer,” and he winked and Jimin blushed even harder if that was even possible at that point – and Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, and then it was only one other person – Min Yoongi-ssi – but he just nodded at Jimin.

 

His stomach turned even as he smiled back at Min-ssi and allowed himself to laugh and joke as the others began to become wilder as they continued the welcomes and greetings.

 

Even as he felt himself slowly relax as he was warmly folded into the group, he could feel the piercing eyes of Min-ssi on his back and he shivered slightly, beneath the giggle that burst out of him at Taehyung’s crazy antics.

 

Surely that couldn’t follow him here too?

 

***

 

Maybe life as a trainee was more becoming to Jimin than anyone – most of all him – had thought possible.

 

And how utterly crazy was it that he had found five people who were fast becoming like brothers to him?

 

They were like family – family who fought over who got to shower first or who would clean up after Jin-hyung cooked, who would squabble over who got to sit on the couch when they weren’t too tired for an impromptu movie night, and who would pull him into random hugs that would warm Jimin’s insides like his mother’s Dak Gomtang on a cold evening.

 

Yoongi-hyung – “Yah, kid, there’s no need for formalities like that, not when I’ve seen what you look like with your trousers half on as you brush your teeth, alright?” – was an enigma and Jimin wasn’t quite sure whether Yoongi was also possible-family or whether Yoongi would always remain a stranger who would sleep on any surface available and mutter obscenities under his breath when Jungkook wasn’t nearby.

 

Not to say that Yoongi-hyung was unpleasant! Oh, no, not at all!

 

Yoongi-hyung was a standoffish stranger that invited someone to poke him like a hatpin urchin, but Yoongi-hyung was also so talented that it made Jimin’s teeth ache like that time he had bitten into an icicle he had broken off from a drain pipe.

 

Yoongi-hyung was someone and Jimin… well… Jimin sorta, maybe wished that Yoongi-hyung would look at him once in a while and quirk his lips up in that way he does when he looks at Namjoon-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, Jin-hyung, really… all of the others.

 

But that was okay – really, it was – because his dad had once told him that Jimin was the sort of person that required an acquired taste or something, like a durian. Jimin didn’t really get it, but that was that, and surely that explained why Yoongi-hyung had yet to smile at him?

 

It makes sense, really.

 

What else could it be?

 

Didn’t Hoseok-hyung and Jin-hyung constantly pinch his cheeks and coo at him about how adorable he was? Clearly, the others had quickly adapted to Jimin’s presence, and Yoongi-hyung had a more refined palate.

 

It would take time, but surely he’d wear him down?

 

Right, of course he would.

 

Park Jimin had made it all the way to Seoul from Busan, no way was he going to give up on the way to Yoongi-hyung’s affect– er, acknowledgement!

 

***

 

Perhaps Jimin should have kept his guard up, should’ve known that when things get to be too good, there’s always something that ruins it.

 

In any case, it was a couple weeks before their debut as Bangtan Sonyeondan – and here Jimin allowed himself to internally squeal and simultaneously thank the gods above that humans were incapable of mind reading – and Jimin was staring at the mirrors in the practice room.

 

The others had already left, exhausted, after their dance practice and yet Jimin couldn’t get his legs to move towards the door, not when he stood there before him.

 

He stood with his legs apart, eyes wide, and a smirk on his chapped lips.

 

He tilted his head and Jimin heard the voice murmur, “Are you sure you belong here? With them? You?”

 

He threw his head back with a cackle and then straightened abruptly, “Don’t fool yourself.”

 

19. legs shook and he could feel the sweat cooling on his skin, making him feel gross and sticky, but his eyes were stuck, his mind racing, and he was caught, caught, caught.

 

“Yah, Jimin, what are you still doing here? Hyung made jjampong ramen and he’s wringing his hands like any other eomma at the thought of Jungkook and Taehyung eating it all before you get any.”

 

Jimin jumped, startled, and he turned towards the door to find Yoongi-hyung leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, an eyebrow raised in expectation, arms folded across his chest.

 

When Jimin just continued to stare at him, Yoongi-hyung exhaled audibly and said, “Come on, kid, you worked hard. Let’s go eat now.”

 

His cheeks immediately burst into flames and he rushed towards the door, towards hyung, “Sorry, hyung, I didn’t notice how late it got. I’m just a little nervous about our debut, you know? What if I mess up, like I did during practice? I mean, I’m not sure if I’m getting my footing during the landing quite right, maybe I should switch with Jungkook after all? I don’t want to be the cause of us all failing and I don’t know if I could even carry my head up back to Busan if that–”

 

Yoongi-hyung stopped abruptly with a loud sigh beside him in the hallway and then turned his head towards him and said, “You are the best dancer here, and that’s with Hoseok still in the room, alright? Quit stressing about barely noticeable mistakes when you’re already not terrible. You’ll give the rest of us a bad name if you’re the only one who shines during our debut.”

 

Jimin inhaled sharply and stared at Yoongi-hyung in toe-numbing shock, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide, “Wh-what, hyung?”

 

Yoongi-hyung rolled his eyes and muttered, “Damn brats, making me do like this…” He turned completely towards Jimin and lifted his right hand and rested it on Jimin’s shoulder, “You work harder than the rest of us, Jimin-ah. You couldn’t be a burden if you tried.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s ears… were they turning red?

 

Scrunching his nose slightly, Yoongi-hyung suddenly shoved him lightly with the hand on his shoulder and said irritably, “Yah, by the time we get there the food will be cold. Come on, let’s go already.”

 

Jimin followed after Yoongi-hyung with a small smile and his stomach fluttering with fireflies.

 

Yoongi-hyung was kind of… cute… like this.

 

And Jimin completely forgot about him, not capable of thinking of anything but how Yoongi-hyung had told him he wasn’t a burden and that he was better than Hoseok-hyung!? Did that really, actually happen or had Jimin experienced a slight brain aneurysm then?!

 

***

 

Then they were actually, really idols and Jimin sometimes forgot to breathe, that’s how busy he was, how busy they all were.

 

But being busy didn’t mean he didn’t linger in the corners of the room when Jimin would lean against a wall or doorframe to just pause for a moment.

 

Being busy didn’t mean anything to him and even as Jimin began to adjust to the lifestyle of being an idol, he couldn’t shake off that ever-present cloud that followed him and pelted him with hails of are-you-really-sure-you-should-do-that, why-do-you-always-bother-them, are-you-really-going-to-eat-that-when-you-resemble-Jaba-more-than-the-idol-you-claim-to-be, why-don’t-you-ever-try-harder, ­why-are-you-never-enough, why-can’t-you-just-do-something-right-just-once-is-that-too-much-to-ask.

 

Sometimes Jimin would shrug his shoulders and cuddle with Taehyung, comfortably silent until they both began to giggle over whatever anime or webtoon Taehyung was obsessed with now.

 

Sometimes Jimin would sit by the window, curled up with a cup of tea, and watch the people below them walk the streets and wonder what their lives were like, whether they had their own clouds following them or whether they were walking quickly towards their own personal suns.

 

Sometimes Jimin would go into his room, lay down in bed, and close his eyes, telling himself that he won’t have any dreams unless he sleeps until he finally succumbs to the arms of Morpheus.

 

More often than not, though, Jimin would find himself in the practice room, the volume of the songs he’d dance to up so high that the words are unintelligible and he can feel the beat in his bones.

 

He closes his eyes and he keeps moving, moving, moving, because he has to work hard, hard, hardhardhardbecauseitsnotenoughyet.

 

Even when his muscles ache and his stomach is cramping with the need for fuel to keep going, keep moving, Jimin won’t, can’t, stop.

 

Not now, not yet, not today, maybe never.

 

Those are days that he loses himself to him and Jimin is no longer the Jimin-of-BTS who laughs along with his friends-who-are-actually-brothers-now until his sides ache and his cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

 

No, he becomes Park-Jimin-of-Big-Hit-who-can’t-afford-to-mess-this-up, who has fans – actual, real people who actually like him? Like?? Jimin can’t really compute that fact??? – that depend on him to be a certain way and he just can’t disappoint them and him and –

 

“Park Jimin, what the hell are you even doing right now? Aigo, but you’re really pissing me off, Jimin.”

 

Jimin jumps and turns abruptly towards the door, eyes wide, panting hard as he comes to a stop in the suddenly quiet room.

 

Yoongi-hyung stood next to the stereo with his lips pressed tight enough to be white, staring at him in obvious frustration, “H-hyung? What’s wrong?”

 

Yoongi-hyung shook his head sharply and narrowed his eyes, “What’s wrong is that this is the fourth night in a row that I’ve found you past midnight in the practice room, clearly on the brink of utter exhaustion, with obviously no plans to stop. Why are you being so stupid, Jimin? What are you even doing right now?”

 

He tilted his head in confusion, still panting slightly, and asked hesitantly, “Ah… practicing?”

 

Yoongi-hyung snorted, “Wrong. You’re not practicing. You’re ing killing yourself. Do you think none of us have noticed the way you hardly eat? The way you work so hard in practices now and then stay late, even after the rest of us have called it a day?” Yoongi-hyung stepped closer and sneered, “You’re being a ing idiot, Jimin-ah, and I’ll gladly take the pleasure of enlightening you of your stupidity.”

 

Jimin took a step backward, feeling like all the air in the room was disappearing as Yoongi-hyung stepped closer and closer, and stuttered out, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and halting him from bolting out of the room, and then he grinded his teeth before biting out, “Why are you being an idiot, Jimin?”

 

He stepped even closer – how was that even possible?! – and Jimin could suddenly see the purple shadows beneath his hyung’s eyes and the way he had patches of dry skin around his nose, he could smell that slight scent of soap and coffee that was all Yoongi-hyung, and he could feel the fast puffs of air against his face as Yoongi-hyung simply breathed before opening his mouth for another verbal hit.

 

Jimin pursed his lips and turned his head away, unable to meet those concerned, angry, oh-so-brown eyes.

 

Yoongi-hyung let out a long sigh and asked in a softer, quieter voice, “Jimin-ah, just tell hyung what’s wrong and hyung will do his best to fix it. Did you see fan comments about something? I didn’t hear Namjoon mention anything, but that is why we started the Cyphers and you know that humans are stupid and always hate good things–”

 

“N-no, hyung, that’s not it.”

 

Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Yoongi-hyung’s warm palm mold itself to his cheek, and his breath began to stutter along with his brain, “Then what is it, Jimin-ah? Tell hyung, please. You’re killing me here too.”

 

He slowly opened his eyes, immediately meeting hyung’s, and he murmured, “I-it’s nothing, hyung… please, just drop it? For now? Please? I-I’ll stop, I promise.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s eyes scrutinized his, taking in his wide eyes, parted lips, quick breathing, and then slowly nodded, “Okay. You’ll tell me when you can, okay? I–” He broke off suddenly and looked off to the side for a few moments, his cheeks suddenly dusted with the lightest of pinks, before he turned back to look at Jimin and choked out, “I’m not good at this talking , but I can listen alright, okay?”

 

Jimin let out a slight giggle and smiled at his hyung, “I promise I will, hyung.”

 

Hyung nodded, letting out a shaky breath, and slowly dropped his hand from Jimin’s face, backing away.

 

Jimin suddenly felt cold and achy at the sudden absence, and it took everything in him to focus on hyung’s words, “– get some food, okay? It’ll be on me, but if you tell the others, see if hyung ever takes you out again, no matter how much you beg with those eyes, Jimin-ah.”

 

Jimin giggled fully at that, eyes upturning into crescents, “Okay, hyung, whatever you say.”

 

***

 

He hid it better after that.

 

He didn’t want any of his hyungs’ eyes to watch him with so much concern, following his every action, making sure he was sleeping, eating enough, and making sure that he hardly practiced any more than he “needed” to – “Come on, Chim Chim, you’re just making me look bad! Do you want your hope to cry at how bad at dancing he is compared to the oh-so-great Park Jimin?”

 

When he felt like he was breathing on his neck, reminding him of just how far he had to go, Jimin made sure to laugh extra loud, fool around so much that he was scolded by the others for not being serious, and stay so occupied with his friends, TV shows, anime, manga, anything, to keep him at bay.

 

If he didn’t give himself time to think, time to let his shadowy hands find his way onto him, well… then Jimin was winning for once, wasn’t he?

 

Jimin liked to think so, anyways.

 

Plus, it was easier to ignore him when he had moments with Yoongi-hyung now.

 

Moments like when Jimin had been in the kitchen eating cereal and hyung had come into the kitchen stumbling, rubbing his eyes, hair a bush of brambles, and grumbling something about coffee and IVs.

 

Jimin’s heart had had a case of minor arrhythmia or something right then because it stopped and skipped around a bit before settling into its normal lub-dub rhythm.

 

Cheeks slightly flushed, he smiled automatically and chirped out, “Good morning, Yoongi-hyung!”

 

A grunt was his only answer.

 

Jimin rolled his eyes fondly and slightly shook his head, “How late did you stay in the studio, hyung? I didn’t hear when you came in.”

 

“… I haven’t seen my bed since Tuesday.”

 

Jimin let out an exasperated noise of some sort and jumped off his chair, “Hyung! You can’t be a hypocrite and not take care of yourself when you all but force-feed me and shove me into bed yourself!”

 

“And who is the dongsaeng and who is the hyung? Don’t worry about me, I slept in the studio. When inspiration strikes, it strikes and,” here Yoongi-hyung finally looked up from his now steaming cup of coffee with a slight smirk towards Jimin, “I am but a slave to the whims of my muse.”

 

Jimin giggled and clapped in mock enthusiasm, “Whoa, did I just see the amazing Min Yoongi, a.k.a. Suga, just spit out fiery poetry before his morning coffee?”

 

Hyung just smirked at him as he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, and Jimin watched for a little longer than was appropriate, but how could he look away from a Yoongi-hyung coming to life right before his eyes? How could he tear his eyes away from the way hyung’s cheeks became the lightest shade of pink, the way his eyes fluttered closed as he drank what was – to Yoongi-hyung – ambrosia that would rival that of the Greek gods’, the way, as Yoongi-hyung slowly lowered the cup, his lips quirked up in the softest of smiles.

 

How could anyone blame Jimin for not looking away from this rare appearance of this Yoongi-hyung? It was like being able to see civilization after wandering around in the desert for ages, or maybe it was like seeing the tips of buildings rise up from the morning fog under the sleepy rays of a waking sun, or maybe it was like that time when Jimin was running home from his friend’s house and he stopped and saw a couple dancing languidly together on the streets under a street light and his heart was caught by a sudden need to be able to move his body like that, to be able to express a language that could be seen and felt by a boy at the ripe age of seven years.

 

It was something like that – Jimin isn’t sure, he’s not really known for being poetic or anything.

 

In any case, that was the first moment.

 

The next moment happened something like this:

 

Jimin and Yoongi-hyung were alone in the dorms, since it was an attempt-to-be-competent-adult-human-beings’ day and they had each been split up into groups for chores that had to be done – Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung were out buying groceries for their sad and empty fridge while Hobi-hyung, Tae, and Jungkookie were dealing with their collective laundry, and Yoongi-hyung and Jimin had been assigned with cleaning around their dorm and shared spaces.

 

Being the unfortunate dongsaeng, Jimin had been unfairly assigned the bathroom while Yoongi-hyung got the living room, and they had both agreed to tackle the dishes in the sink together.

 

Once they had done their solo chores, with the most innocent of intentions, Jimin and Yoongi-hyung started on the dishes ­– Jimin washing and Yoongi-hyung drying.

 

Somehow, Yoongi-hyung and Jimin started arguing on whether Pikachu should actually stay Pikachu or not ­– and how exactly can Yoongi-hyung say Pikachu can be anyone but Pikachu!? – and Jimin was so frustrated that he scooped up a handful of suds and threw it straight at hyung’s face.

 

There was a sudden silence as Jimin stared wide-eyed at a Yoongi-hyung with soap bubbles dripping in his hair and sliding down his scrunched-in-annoyance face. Hyung slowly lifted up his arm and wiped off the soap onto the sleeve of his shirt and then opened his eyes, glaring at Jimin like a boy that had just found out Pokémon were actually just pocket monsters.

 

Jimin burst out laughing, bending over from the force of his laughter as he kept thinking of how utterly cute Yoongi-hyung looked, disgruntled at having soap in his hair.

 

“Yah, and this is what I get for being such an accommodating hyung, huh?”

 

When he heard a sudden splash, Jimin glanced up, wiping his eyes of the tears that had come out with his laughter, to see Yoongi-hyung grabbing a fistful of bubbles with a triumphant smirk. Jimin screeched as the soaps found their home in his silver-dyed hair.

 

“Oh, it’s on, hyung… or is it ajusshi?”

 

They both grabbed handfuls of soap bubbles and started flinging it at each other, giggles and threats interspersed as they grew more competitive and heedless of the destruction caused to the innocent kitchen.

 

That was how moment two ended – to the rest of BTS coming back to the dorm to find a soapy and wet kitchen with an equally soapy and wet Jimin and Yoongi, laying on the kitchen floor laughing and still arguing over whether Pikachu should evolve or not.

 

There were more and more moments like that – moments where their eyes would meet each other across the room and they’d each smile like they had a secret, where they’d just automatically gravitate towards each other when they had free time to just lounge around, where Yoongi-hyung’s lips wouldn’t just quirk up at Jimin like with the others… no, there were moments where Jimin was able to experience the full force of Yoongi-hyung’s gummy smile and the light blush that always accompanied it.

 

Well, it was no wonder then that as soon as Jimin could, he dyed his hair the pink that reminded him of Yoongi-hyung’s cheeks.

 

***

 

As their popularity grew, it became harder and harder to ignore him.

 

When Jimin would scroll through fan tweets and comments on their V-Live, he’d find comments that made him experience a pleasant sort of heartburn… and then there were those that made the shadows in the rooms he’d occupy grow twice in size and make it feel as though he was choking on the other’s thoughts.

 

It made him feel tiny while he sat up in his bed, blankets surrounding him in a false sense of security, as the whispers came and his head was throbbing with the need to be enough, just once, please, I’m trying, can’t you see I want to be enough?

 

It made his fingers shake as he closed the apps and locked his phone, throwing it on the bed, further away from him.

 

Why is it that he is this way? Why is it that when he looks in the mirror he only sees the failures?

 

What made him this way?

 

(But then, when he’d think of why, he’d think of innocent little moments when his mom would say oh, Jimin, where did those six points go? You need high marks if you want to be worth something. Who else will support us in our old age if not you, Jimin-ah?… of when his dad would look at him with a puzzled brow, tilting his head to the left, and murmur, You’re just a little strange, boy. Maybe if you try a little harder to fit in, you wouldn’t have these problems… of when his younger brother would wrinkle his nose and proclaim him uncool and not like the other hyungs… of when kids would avoid him at school for being the weird one who was always dancing even when sitting in his seat… of all those moments when he felt just a little bit odd as though he had maybe been meant for another world altogether, but at the last minute the Creator decided that with a few adjustments he could fit in with the rest just fine here on Earth.

 

But he didn’t fit in.

 

He never really had.

 

So maybe, just maybe, it was all those moments when he felt like an alien and wondered if doing this might be enough to be just like everyone else.

 

Spoiler alert: it was never enough.)

 

His hair was standing on end and his skin was crawling like that one time he had stood over an anthill and discovered that he was rather allergic to fire ant bites.

 

Stifling a groan, he crawled out of the bed, making sure to not wake up Hoseok-hyung, and quickly changed out of his night shirt and loose shorts into sweats and a t-shirt, pulling out socks and shoes as well. He grabbed his keys, wallet, phone, and headphones and quietly stepped out of the room, assured that Hobi-hyung was deep in dreamland… like he wished he was.

 

Soon enough, he was in the practice room, staring at the wall of mirrors that mocked him in the shivering moonlight.

 

Oh, but here’s the boy-wonder. Never did learn to give up, did he? Just like an unwanted stray dog, he keeps coming back for scraps, thinking he’ll get a meal this time. What an idiot.

 

Jimin’s right hand clenched into a fist and he gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to smash all the mirrors and stop him from ever coming back.

 

He firmly turned his back on the mirrors as he walked over to stereo and randomly picked one of their more recent songs to practice to, figuring something good should come out of his restlessness night.

 

With the volume turned all the way up, Jimin got into position and closed his eyes, feeling the bass trembling through him, rattling his teeth and stirring his bones.

 

When the music was this loud, he could hardly hear anything but the rhythm of his breathing, his steps, his heartbeat, the music his body moved to – when he could hear nothing but the music and him, that was when he was at peace and he could not follow him here.

 

No, he wouldn’t allow the other to taint his one joy.

 

He twisted his body this way and that, an unconscious half-smile on his face as he lost himself.

 

There was no Jimin here, no other, no BTS, no fans, no humans, no nothing – there was only music and the ability in him that kept him moving to appease the entity that gave his life meaning.

 

But then the music abruptly stopped and he stumbled in shock, opening his eyes to see a fluffy, pale blond head by the stereo, ethereal in the milky light of the moon.

 

Jimin inhaled sharply, struck by the sudden appearance of this otherworldly being in his search for clarity.

 

“Jimin… what are you doing dancing at four in the morning?”

 

He let out a nervous giggle and shrugged simultaneously, panting slightly from his earlier exertions and from the shock. “I- I just couldn’t sleep, hyung. I’m okay.”

 

Yoongi-hyung stepped closer, head tilted, and Jimin was so struck by how – how… how beautiful hyung looked that he could hardly breathe.

 

“I think you’re lying, Jiminie. I thought you had promised me you would tell me when you felt this way.”

 

Yoongi-hyung was now breathing just a handbreadth away and Jimin had just regained his ability to tell his lungs to function properly.

 

“I know – I know I’m a little rough sometimes, but I’m still your friend, Jimin.”

 

Jimin’s heart broke as those brown eyes hesitantly met his, “Aren’t we friends, Jimin-ah?”

 

Jimin smiled tremulously and closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around his (favorite) hyung’s waist, “You’re more than a friend, Yoongi-hyung. You’re my… my hyung. That’s worth more than just being a friend, promise.”

 

He felt Yoongi-hyung take in a deep breath, Jimin’s arms moving slightly with the movement, and he murmured, “Then why don’t you trust me with what’s wrong? Hyung will understand… promise.”

 

The pink-haired younger smiled as he buried his face into the place where Yoongi-hyung’s shoulder met his neck and softly inhaled the coffee, mint, and soapy smell, feeling himself relax in Yoongi-hyung’s arms that had by this point surrounded him to keep him close.

 

“It’s not that I don’t tr-trust you, hyung. It’s just… I’ve never… It’s silly, that’s all.” Jimin pushed back with a watery smile and giggled softly, half-heartedly, “I’m just being melodramatic. Maybe I can try my hand at acting too, huh?”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s hand lifted from where it had been resting on the small of his back and came to rest on his face, cradling him as though Yoongi’s hand were a pillow upon which it held the Koh-I-Noor or something precious like that.

 

With Yoongi’s hand on his face like that, Jimin definitely felt precious, anyways.

 

“Jiminie,” Yoongi-hyung whispered, “Let hyung help. Hyung will never think you are being silly for feeling the way you do.”

 

The other arm that was around his waist tightened, pulling Jimin even closer, “Your feelings are valid, always.”

 

Jimin’s eyes filled with tears at that and he murmured, “Please, don’t. I-I can’t… I can’t afford to fall right now, not now. I-I’m caught and I can’t do this with you here.”

 

“What is it, Jimin-ah?”

 

Jimin whimpered softly at the sweet murmur that came out of that slightly chapped, pouty mouth, “Yoongi-hyung, please.”

 

“I won’t let you go until you tell me, Jimin-ah, and I can tell you’re starting to get tired. Spill it and you’ll be able to see your bed before your meeting with your vocal coach.”

 

He groaned slightly and then murmured, “Yoongi-hyung…. I just…. I just feel like what I’m doing isn’t enough sometimes, that’s all. I just feel like I’m being annoying when I don’t get it right then… I told you, it’s silly.”

 

The hand on his face came up to run through his hair, “And I told you that your feelings were valid. Why do you doubt me?”

 

In a teasing tone, Yoongi-hyung smiled and said, “Don’t you know by now that you should listen to your elders?”

 

Jimin giggled lightly, “I apologize, ajusshi, I’ll make sure to always listen to you for now, in respect of your many years on this Earth.”

 

Yoongi-hyung rolled his eyes and flicked his forehead at that, “Brat.”

 

Hyung sighed softly and then slowly backed away, taking Jimin’s breath with him, only for Jimin to blush lightly as Yoongi-hyung’s hand cradled his and tugged him towards the door, “Come on, let’s go back and sleep. We still have a few hours before we need to be awake anyways.”

 

Jimin followed Yoongi-hyung, face still warm.

 

He forgot about him then.

 

For now… because he could feel the coldness lingering in the back of his brain, and the incoherent whispers that would murmur sometimes, just loud enough, for Jimin to make out … not enough… never… don’t lie… not good … liar… liar… liar….

 

***

 

He was lulled into a false sense of security as he let himself be caught up in more moments with Yoongi-hyung.

 

They weren’t even trying to hide their lingering glances, hot cheeks, and inside jokes.

 

The others, of course, noticed.

 

Jimin was awed when Jin-hyung and Hobi-hyung just pulled him aside to cuddle with him and tell him that they’d support him always, always, always, that they’d always, always, always love him… and to tell them all the details because they’d never seen Yoongi-hyung smile this much!

 

Namjoon-hyung only smiled when he caught the both of them sitting side-by-side on the couch, talking about whatever caught their whimsy, and one time he said cryptically, “It’s like when a cactus grows a flower in the desert – it’s unexpected for something like that to happen, but when it does, you only think why couldn’t that be like that and you’re caught by the beauty because it’s so unexpected and so awe-inspiring.”

 

Yeah, Jimin didn’t really get what Namjoon-hyung meant, but the feeling was sort of like approval and that was enough.

 

Taehyung and Jungkook, of course, ambushed him while Yoongi-hyung was in the studio one night and demanded all the details of a soft Yoongi-hyung that was now engaging in skinship with Jimin. Jimin delighted in cuddling with them in Jungkook’s bed as he gushed about how Yoongi-hyung had taken him out for dinner the night before and how, on the way home, he had nonchalantly grabbed his elbow and then kissed his cheek right before they entered the dorm. Taehyung squealed along with him and Jungkook’s cheeks turned red, but he had a pleased smile on his face and it made Jimin’s heart feel like that moment when the Grinch’s heart had grown two sizes – like his heart was too big to be contained in his chest.

 

It was strange, really, how they had just wordlessly gone from strangers, to friends, to something else, and now they were… this. Almost lovers? Boyfriends?

 

Something.

 

Something that allowed Jimin to cuddle with Yoongi-hyung on the couch, kiss him on the cheek, hands, neck, and peck his lips whenever no one was around, and to be able to whisper, in the dead of night, moments that had made Jimin Jiminie and Yoongi Yoongi-hyung.

 

It was… too good to be true.

 

Of course it was.

 

***

 

The day that ripped Jimin apart started like any other day before preparation for comeback season began – a little later than maybe he should wake up, but still early enough for him to be able to eat breakfast without it turning into technically-brunch.

 

He was in the kitchen, scrolling through Twitter and idly eating his cereal, when Yoongi-hyung entered.

 

Looking up with a grin, Jimin opened his mouth for a greeting when he met Yoongi-hyung’s eyes.

 

Those Americano-brown-eyes stared at him dispassionately and he felt his stomach clench as he quietly set down his spoon beside his cereal bowl.

 

“Yoongi-hyung? Are-are you okay?”

 

Yoongi-hyung stayed silent, just watching him.

 

Jimin carefully slid out of his seat and started to step towards him, “Yoongi-hyung? D-did you sleep last night?”

 

Jimin was now close enough to wrap his arms around Yoongi-hyung, but he kept his hands at his side as he watched Yoongi-hyung, Yoongi-hyung who stood there with unreadable eyes and an impassive face.

 

“Yoongi-hyung?”

 

“Let’s not do this anymore, Jimin.”

 

He could finally understand what people meant when they said their heart was breaking, but he persisted because that’s who he was, “Wh-what do you mean, Yoongi-hyung?”

 

Hyung shook his head in frustration and looked away, his tongue poking out to wet his lips, and his hands clenched into fists, “Let’s not do this anymore, Jimin. Let’s not do us anymore. Let’s just… let’s just stop here.”

 

“Wh-why?”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s hands came up to grab fistfuls of his hair as he bit out, “Because I am the hyung and I said so, brat.”

 

For once, that word didn’t sound affectionate and Jimin’s heart ached, oh-it-just-ached.

 

Jimin straightened and he glared, moving so he was in Yoongi-hyung’s line of sight, “Tell me why, hyung. I at least deserve to know why you decided to end this like an .”

 

Hyung’s lips curled into a cruel smirk as he bit out, “Because it just wasn’t enough, brat. It just wasn’t enough.”

 

He stopped hearing, stopped seeing, and all he was really sure of was that he was still breathing as he was left alone in the kitchen, standing, with a soggy bowl of cereal his only company as his heart was broken into pieces, pieces that floated away like dandelion seeds by a careless breeze.

 

***

 

Jimin excelled in smiling and laughing like nothing was wrong. Really, if it was a job description, he would have surely been rich enough to never have to work another day.

 

The others, of course, noticed the way he and Yoongi never gravitated towards one another anymore, the way they could hardly stay in the same room unless they had to, because they were a band and were almost family.

 

But they didn’t say anything and Jimin just kept pretending, and Yoongi just kept silent.

 

It was working just fine, really.

 

They were all fine.

 

Jimin was fine.

 

It was fine.

 

***

 

He had gotten good at hiding his late-night sessions in the practice room, his lack of eating, his bouts of insomnia, and everything else.

 

Plus, with Yoongi-hyung staunchly ignoring him, the others were clueless.

 

He delighted in the lack of Yoongi-hyung in his life, even more in the way Jimin was so obviously helpless to the whispers of him, him with his he-left-because-you-weren’t-enough, don’t-you-see-that-no-one-wants-you, you-are-a-burden-and-he-escaped-thankfully thoughts.

 

It was as he was walking to the practice room at two in the morning that he idly walked by Yoongi’s studio room. He glanced through the little window on the door, hardly even aware of him hoping for a glance of Yoongi-hyung, when he saw.

 

Through the little rectangular window, he saw Yoongi-hyung sitting on the ratty couch on the side of the studio, face hidden by his arms, shoulders shaking, and Jimin opened the door without a conscious thought, only needing to comfort, only needing to take away his pain, only needing Yoongi-hyung.

 

Yoongi-hyung looked up when he heard the sound of the door opening and Jimin caught sight of Yoongi-hyung’s trembling lips, cheeks flushed, eyes puffy, and face wet from silent tears.

 

“Yoongi-hyung.”

 

He turned away from Jimin, burying his face in his hands, and Jimin heard him say brokenly, “Leave, please, just leave.”

 

Jimin stepped forward until he was close enough to kneel before Yoongi-hyung. He knelt and rested his hands on Yoongi-hyung’s calves – just to feel and make sure he was real, that this wasn’t just a dream – and he whispered, “Let me help, hyung, please.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s head rose and then he was looking into Jimin’s eyes and Jimin couldn’t breathe.

 

“Y-you can’t. Just, please, let me be alone.”

 

Jimin smiled shakily, “You never left me alone when… when I was like this.”

 

Yoongi-hyung let out a derisive laugh, “Please, what have I been doing for the past two months then? Do-do you think I didn’t know? I-I knew and I still… . Just, go, Jiminie, please.”

 

Jimin only crawled, with his knees, a little closer, and lifted his hands so he could cradle Yoongi-hyung’s face like Yoongi-hyung had for him, and he smiled into Yoongi-hyung’s stricken, brown eyes, “It’s okay, Yoongi-hyung. Let me be here for you, please. Just… let me.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s coffee-scented breath fanned out against Jimin’s face as he whispered, “You wouldn’t understand… no one… no one ever does.”

 

Hyung then sneered and glared furiously at Jimin, pulling his face away from Jimin’s small hands, “But I don’t give a , don’t give a flying . I’ll stop myself.”

 

Jimin’s hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists, but he smiled as he said softly, “I feel so far away… I feel like I’ve lost my innocent self.”

 

Yoongi-hyung’s eyes met his and his eyes widened as he whispered back, “As time goes by, I feel like I’m becoming a monster.”

 

“I’m still the same person, but an overgrown lie is trying to swallow me whole.”

 

“I’m caught between this famous idol rapper and my weak self… and sometimes I think that-that weak self is my true self.”

 

“I want to be free from this pain, from these lies, I wish I could be given my smile back. I don’t want to be the prey.”

 

“This anguish digs into my mind countless times, and there’s never an answer at the end of my wandering. But I try… I try to swallow the good and the evil.”

 

“I want to get away, but I’m caught in a lie.”

 

“The sweet, the bitter, and the of this world, they’re all just memories now. Sorrow created me, and if my misfortune makes someone – you – happy… I-I’ll stay unfortunate.”

 

“Save me, I’m being punished, caught in this lie. I just want to be free, to have my smile back, to be pulled from this hell.”

 

“The root of my creativity has tasted the sweet, the bitter, the in this life… and my sorrow has created me, but I feel estranged in this reality.”

 

They stared at each other in the dim light of the lamp by Yoongi-hyung’s desk, and they just breathed together, hands clasped together, words hanging in the air between them, and hearts aching for all their denials and their misunderstandings.

 

***

 

He still lingered in the shadows on the rooms Jimin occupied, and sometimes those whispers would catch Jimin and he’d find himself restlessly walking to the practice room.

 

But Jimin would always unconsciously gravitate to Yoongi-hyung’s practice room instead, where he’d find Yoongi-hyung hunched in terrible posture over his laptop and equipment, furiously writing into his notebook.

 

Yoongi-hyung would look up, the light from the lamp casting shadows on his face, and his lips would quirk up in greeting, and he’d open his arms and Jimin would wordlessly crawl into Yoongi-hyung’s lap and whisper all the words that no one else can hear, no one else can know.

 

Only Yoongi-hyung knows, and that was enough for Jimin.

 

***

 

The others all let out obvious sighs of relief when the discovered that they were okay once more.

 

When Jin-hyung and Hobi-hyung had found Jimin and Yoongi-hyung on the couch – Jimin giggling and Yoongi-hyung smiling fondly at him – they had stopped in shock in the doorway, but they were soon smiling at the achingly cute couple.

 

Jin-hyung had grinned and then said, “I thought I’d have to stage an intervention if it had gone on any longer! You two are hopeless without each other!”

 

Hobi-hyung had laughed and threw himself at Jimin, grabbing him in a head-lock and simultaneously throwing punches at Yoongi-hyung, “So ridiculous, stepping around each other like you don’t see each other! Don’t be stupid again!”

 

Namjoon-hyung had smiled at them when he had found them one late night in the kitchen, Jimin sitting so close to Yoongi-hyung he was almost in his lap, spoon-feeding Yoongi-hyung bites of rice porridge.

 

“I’m glad you figured it out among yourselves before I had to call a meeting as leader or something. You two not being together threw off the gravitational force of the whole world, I swear.”

 

Taehyung had thrown himself at Jimin when he had found them lingering in the lounge room, Yoongi-hyung sitting up and idly running his fingers through Jimin’s blond hair as Jimin grinned up at Yoongi-hyung with his head in hyung’s lap, telling him about how much he’s looking forward to going to L.A. again, that maybe he should brush up on English, huh?

 

“Ahh, my OTP is at peace once more! My shipper heart couldn’t take the angst!”

 

Jimin had squealed and tried to push Tae off, scrambling away from Tae’s long fingers attempting to tickle him, as Yoongi-hyung laughed at the pair of them and Jimin’s cheeks ached from laughing so hard.

 

Jungkook had found the pair of them one early morning, sitting by the couch, near the window, murmuring about what people were doing so early in the morning and making up wild stories about each person they saw on the streets below them. Jimin had looked up at the noise of Jungkook banging his elbow into the wall and smiled at him, Yoongi-hyung also looking up, his arm around Jimin, and staring at Jungkook questioningly.

 

Jungkook’s face went red and he stammered out, “S-sorry to bother you, I was just going to get some water! Y-you guys look cute… ah! Okay, I’m just going to go now!”

 

They both laughed as they watched Jungkook all but run out of the living room.

 

It was good and Jimin maybe sometimes thought that this couldn’t last, but then Yoongi-hyung would look at him, grinning with that gummy smile reserved just for him, and Jimin’s heart would attempt to dance out of his chest, and Jimin let him stop ruining his happiness.

 

 

______________________________________

 

 

Sometimes, there are times when inky, grasping hands of darkness grab at you and attempt to pull you down into the depths of despair, and you let them.

 

Sometimes, you stumble and let yourself fall into the quicksand of self-hatred, and you swallow particles of sand that turn into rocks in your gut, and you can’t breathe anymore because maybe you belong here, here where no one can see, no one can know, and maybe you even like this silence, where you are alone with your thoughts, where you don’t have to impress anyone.

 

Even then, sometimes, there are times when clouds open up above your head and you’re rained down with the feelings of insecurity and loneliness and you start to drown and forget… forget that you don’t have to stand under the torrent of a thousand thoughts that don’t belong.

 

You are a human being and you stumble, fall, forget, and make mistakes.

 

You are human and you are prey to being caught up in lies, in feeling like a monster that escapes understanding.

 

Yet, even though you are human, you are also capable of standing up, reaching out, and getting out, by yourself or with another, because there’s no reason you should wallow in thoughts that don’t make sense when you are more than capable of action.

 

You can raise your head and remember that there’s a hand to grab you out of the quicksand, to pick you up when you stumble, and there’s a sun that rises up after the storm.

 

No one said you had to stay down.