“What do you want me to do?” Yoongi’s question broke through the silence of the kitchen and Jimin’s thoughts. It was half past three in the morning; everyone had gone to bed hours before and the younger member didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one awake.

Jimin was exhausted. He was tired of rationalizing, justifying, and explaining to himself why he shouldn’t be upset, why he shouldn’t let things affect him. The rumors weren’t true, and he knew that. Yet the vise in his chest was tightening at the very sight of his hyung, threatening to squeeze the air out of his lungs and the tears out of his already red, swollen eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” Yoongi rasped, standing right next to the chair he was sitting on. He was close enough for Jimin to inhale the faint traces of his soap and shampoo, and his traitorous body started to struggle for him to take in more of the familiar scent. “Jimin-ah. Look at me.”

Jimin shook his head mutely, refusing to let him see how wrecked his face looked. The logical part of him had no further explanations for his behaviour. He felt bad for himself—that was it. He was being selfish, and God, he swore he was never a jealous person, but—

A firm hand closing in on his arm had Jimin turning to see what the older member was doing.

“Get up.” Yoongi’s tone was quiet, almost gentle, but brook no argument. A tug upwards had him reluctantly rising from his seat, the cold fingers steering him around to face his hyung.

An exasperated sigh punctuated the silence. “Jimin-ah,” Yoongi began, letting go of his dongsaeng’s arm so he could run it across his own face in frustration. “We put out a statement already. You know it’s not true—what the hell are you being this way for?” He placed a finger under Jimin’s chin, forcing it to tilt up and meet his eyes. “Suran is a friend. A colleague. I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you, of all people. Why does it matter so much to you?”

“It doesn’t,” Jimin lied, blinking back the tears that burned underneath his eyelids. “I know it’s not true, hyung. Don’t worry about it.”

“The hell I won’t,” Yoongi retorted, irritation lacing his voice. “You haven’t been eating again. You’ve been avoiding me. You’ve been sulking around like it’s the goddamn end of the world. You expect me not to worry? Hell, everyone is worried, Jiminnie.”

The nickname made his tired heart jump the way it always did. “I’m sorry, hyung.” A tear escaped, and Yoongi cursed under his breath.

“What’s this?” the rapper narrowed his eyes, his thumb reaching up to wipe the lone drop from Jimin’s cheek. “Tears over nothing?”

Jimin scoffed, surprising him. He angled his face away from Yoongi’s grasp, wiping the moisture on his face defiantly. “Well, then. If it’s nothing why don’t you just leave me alone, hyung. I need some time alone.”

“I’m not giving you time alone,” Yoongi hissed back, giving the other a quick, short shove on the shoulder. Jimin glared at him, but he didn’t care. It was unfair—he didn’t do a damn thing and he didn’t want the ing scandal to break out. He did something about it—he ing fixed it instead of just ignoring it—all for Jimin. This was unfair. “You want me to put out another statement tomorrow, Jimin-ah?"

“I don’t want your statement, hyung.”

He inched closer to Jimin, ignoring how the younger kept stepping backwards until his hips hit the corners of the granite counter. “It’s a different statement,” Yoongi murmured, his eyes hardening. “I’ll tell Bang PD-nim about us. I’ll tell him to put out the truth.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, but he fought to keep his bravado. “You wouldn’t.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to scoff. “No? Isn’t that what this is all about?” he stopped right in front of Jimin, and all of a sudden, he looked beaten, drained, sad. “Do you think you’re the only one having a hard time?”

Jimin didn’t think it was impossible to physically feel his soul shatter. He gasped at the pain of his hyung’s words. “I know you’re having a hard time, too, hyung,” he choked out with what little air he had inside of him. “Why do you think I haven’t said anything?”

The brewing fight melted to a stop. In its place, resignation and unhappiness. They both knew being together was something they could not share to the world—at least not yet. But knowing that didn’t shield them from the hurt that came from having to hide, having to pretend—the scandal with Suran was a jarring, painful reminder that they just couldn’t.

They just got a preview of what could happen if any of them were caught with a woman—but with each other?

“Ya,” Yoongi whispered, gathering Jimin’s small hands with his icy ones, pulling them up and clutching them against his chest. “We can stop before this hurts us even more than it already is.” He drew in a ragged breath, closing his eyes. “It’s the smart thing to do.”

Jimin nodded through the stakes repeatedly buried in his heart. “It’s the smart thing to do,” he echoed, hating the way his voice hitched. Every inch of him screamed in silent agony, wanting to take that half a step forward and fall into his hyung’s arms, the way he always did. But they were being smart. It was going to come to this point, anyway. It had always been at the back of his mind. He fought the sob that immediately clawed its way up his throat with all his might—it came out a strangled whimper.

Yoongi closed the distance between them, releasing his hands so he could cup his face. “Jiminnie.” His name sounded like a struggle. “Jiminnie, what do I do?” He pressed his lips on his dongsaeng’s forehead, clenching his teeth at the sound of the other’s sharp intake of breath. “What do we do?” a kiss on his temple. “I need to know.” A kiss on a tear-stained cheekbone.

“Hyung,” Jimin sobbed, because that’s all that he could do. He couldn’t pull away, he couldn’t do the smart thing. He closed his eyes as Yoongi’s mouth slid over his, not quite settling against each other; a passing caress that left them both breathless despite the aching.

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmured, slipping his arms around Jimin’s neck and holding on for dear life. “I’m really sorry. Hyung isn’t smart.” He turned his face and buried his nose in Jimin’s hair. “I can’t stay away. You’ll have to make hyung stay away, Jiminnie. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin couldn’t keep the tears at bay. He felt them roll down his face, and he was grateful Yoongi couldn’t see. “I’m sorry too,” he whispered, reaching up to encircle his arms around his hyung’s waist. Yoongi’s quiet shudder of relief was his undoing. “I can’t do it, either. I’m sorry.”