Jimin entered the dorm silently while stripping out of his shoes and winter coat -though it was close to the end of march-, leaving his luggage to the side. He had wanted to surprise the six boys by coming back from visiting his parents earlier than he had planned. Though, he was sure the guys would not mind; almost certain that they must have been missing the singer if Yoongi’s whiny behaviour through texts when it came to doing the laundry and cleaning their room followed by a passive-aggressive attitude when the rapper remembered that Jimin was gone was any indication; and there was also Jungkook’s many distressed vocal messages, telling him that Taehyung was abusing the maknae when he won at Mario Kart against him. And it felt good, somehow, to feel wanted, to feel missed. And maybe it was selfish, but Jimin’s little getaway wasn’t all good. Because something had been on the back of his mind ever since he left.

As he had hugged his brothers goodbye, Seokjin had mentioned that he wanted to talk to him about something when he would come back. Of course, the older man had not been specific about the topic he wanted to discuss with Jimin. It was one stupid little sentence which would have not mattered to anyone but Jimin.

Because Jimin had a little secret, one that -he thought- did not matter if it was never shared, which was the point of a secret, wasn’t it? But even without saying it so purposefully, Jimin thought that his actions and reactions: the resting of his hand on his shoulder as he gave it a short squeeze, the back hugs that lingered for slightly longer than with any of the other members, the holding of his hand and loud cheering whenever he mastered a part of the choreography, and the instant shyness taking over Jimin whenever they were alone and he asked Jimin if he thought he was doing good, and his blush whenever Jimin was fed a small bite of whatever was being cooked, right before dinner, just to ‘make sure' it was good -though Jimin was pretty sure he knew it was excellent; all of this was enough to give an indication on the topic of his secret. And that made Jimin both really excited and extremely nervous.

Excited for the obvious reason being that he wanted his feelings to be reciprocated by the male, but also nervous because of his little secret. Little by little, some of the boys had realised that Jimin did indeed have feelings for Seokjin.

The first had been Yoongi, staring at him in the mirror of the dancing room, smirking whenever Jimin met his glance after having gaped or awed at the Seokjin’s features; they had had a talk a week after this incident had kept happening and Jimin remembered so clearly his shaking hands as the rapper had come towards him at the end of a session to ask about Seokjin and him; and Jimin remembered how his feelings poured out of his mouth as if the dam preventing them from streaming out of his heart had vanished; and Jimin remembered the look of genuine happiness that Yoongi had given Jimin, probably reflecting his own stupid -because he was stupid for falling for one of the guys, wasn’t he?- grin as he spoke about the older singer, enjoying the comfort of his hyung’s affectionate hug when Jimin was done rambling about him. Jimin felt lighter in the mind, but his heart felt heavier. Because now that he had confided in one of his brothers, he was able to perceive the depth of this feelings. And it frightened him.

Then there had been Taehyung, just because the second daegu boy deserved to know as he was Jimin’s best friend -and therefore- his most loyal and trusted confident. Taehyung had thought nothing of Jimin accepting to come with him on his shopping trip; it being a casual hang out habit of theirs. However, when Jimin had lowered his tone -which had, at first, been seen as useless from the younger 95-liner as they sat side by side on one of the mall’s benches; Taehyung had soon understood that this was a confidence from his best friend. When Jimin had quieted down completely, letting the fresh January air caress their flesh wherever there was no layer of clothing, the ruffle of their fabric against the wooden bench being the only noise induced by their shivering-selves. And then, Jimin had blurted out,

“I love Seokjin-hyung.”

And oh boy, Jimin did.

At first, Jimin had had a hard time taking a liking to the older male. Even though Seokjin's ability to make anyone laugh almost rivalled with Taehyung's, Jimin could not help but despise how full of himself the older singer was, or seemed. Proclaiming himself 'Mr. worldwide handsome' just because he had become a trainee thanks to his looks was absurd to the younger singer. And sure, Jimin could see how handsome the man was, but any human being with a sense of sight could tell you that. And in Jimin's head it was simple, Seokjin was not 'Worldwide Handsome' but 'Pretty moron'.

During the first week they had spent in the dorm, the oldest singers barely saw each other, their schedules being complete opposites; not that Jimin minded as he was able to spend more time with his best friend and not be in the presence of ‘Mr. Full of himself’. Taehyung, who was a real social butterfly had, contrary to his best friend, taken quite a liking to the broad-shouldered man; and even if Jimin could only joke about his best friend already starting to replace him, his doubts -that he knew were irrational- started to become more real as days passed. Taehyung had seemingly taken an interest into the maknae of their band, Jungkoo. All three of them spent most of their time together, reminding him somehow of the trio of protagonists from Harry Potter.

On the next Monday, as Jimin had come back after a long three hours of dance practice paired with his extra singing lesson that had taken him until 9pm that night, the man felt exhausted; both mentally and physically. He had tried not to think of the way Taehyung had gotten so close to Jungkook in so little time. He had tried not to think of all the inside jokes the two youngest now shared. He had tried not to think of the irrational fear that he was slowly being left out and pushed aside, close to being the pair of socks that was so obviously washed out but that we kept just ‘in case I don’t have anything else to wear’. Jimin fought back his tears, the want to crash on the floor and sob uncontrollably until he would have to move to hydrate himself and cry some more.

However, these thoughts quickly left, replaced by surprise as he noticed a post-it note on the kitchen counter on which he had just laid his emptied bottle of water.

'There is a plate of samgyeopsal left in the fridge if you are hungry. Taehyung told me you would probably like to have it.
I hope practice went well.
-Seokjin'

And Jimin didn’t know if it was his tiredness making him melt at the words, but Jimin had felt his vague hostility towards the man dissipate rapidly. His heart softened, just like his expression whenever his gaze met his figure, which was as soon as the next morning. Seokjin and Namjoon were both in the kitchen, a cup of coffee held between Namjoon's long slender fingers while Seokjin busied himself with a pan on the stove. Jimin had held back the laughter that formed in his throat as he had noticed the pink apron attached around the older singer.

Namjoon, as he was facing the hallway, with his back leaning against the counter, was the first one to notice Jimin's appearance. He had greeted the male with his low sleep-engulfed voice that Jimin had grown to adore hearing as he emerged in the kitchen at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. Jimin had greeted him back, but his sleepy, morning-nonchalance had left him swiftly when Seokjin had turned around, his hair a bit ruffled from sleep, or from running his hands into them if the recipe was not going as planned, smiling at Jimin.

"Slept well?"

Jimin had been fighting against his every cell not to reach his hand out and play with the older male's soft looking hair, or take his phone out -which he had conveniently forgotten in his room anyways- to keep this beautiful smile that was directed towards him -and only him- forever.

Jimin had gulped. "Yeah..." he had trailed off, pressing his lips in a thin line before pushing them out, "Thank you for the food, yesterday," Jimin had bit his lip. "It was really good," -no, it wasn't, he had thought, it was the best he had ever had, even better than his father's sandwiches; and that was saying something because the Parks were known for their incredible sandwich-making-ability. His voice had been raspy from sleep and his Busan accent was ever so present; but contrary to his high school bullies, Seokjin had not laughed, instead, he had smiled; a very bright smile at that.

"Ah it's nothing, this bunch-" he had gestured at Namjoon and in the direction of the rooms, "-eat as much as a famished family of grizzly bears before hibernation," he had rolled his eyes as Namjoon had shrugged with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think I might only be cooking for people who enjoy my food, I think."

"Yah, I was enjoying your food too, hyung!" Namjoon had retorted, a pout forming on his lips.

"Yeah, that's why you kept shoving pieces of meat down your throat without chewing them resulting in you choking not once, not twice but three times?"

Namjoon had sighed. "Okay, I'm out," Namjoon had said, placing his coffee cup in the sink and leaving it there as he had escaped Seokjin's cries to 'get his back right here' or he would 'literally shove a spoon in one of his orifices'.

Jimin had chuckled at the threat -thinking that Seokjin's pink apron was doing a good job at making his mother impression believable-, and he had found himself envying the relationship his hyungs had. Jimin had also wanted Seokjin to feel comfortable enough with him to fool around. But then, the younger singer had shaken his head, turned towards the sink, rolled up his sweater's sleeves' and grabbed the sponge, washing the utensils Seokjin had used to make breakfast, as well as Namjoon's coffee cup.

Seokjin had stop cussing when he had heard the sound of water splashing the sink in one continuous stream.

"Ah, you don't have to, really-" Seokjin had seemed to hesitate, and that is why it had been easy for Jimin to cut him off without sounding rude.

"It's the least I can do to thank you."

Seokjin had hummed as he had gone back to taking care of the mukmuchim in his skillet. It was silent for a moment until he had spoken up again,

"So, how was it?"

Jimin had been surprised by the question as he had almost dropped the glass in his hands. He had shot a glance at Seokjin who had narrowed his eyes at the food, an expression of pure concentration on his features. Jimin had allowed himself a second -no more than a second, he had told himself- to trace the older singer's features with his eyes, watching his dark hair falling on top of his eyebrows, his lashes holding some strands back so they did not fall into his eyes, his beautifully curved dark brown eyes; his nose which seemed to have been sculpted by a precise artist whose reference had probably been a deity of beauty considering its perfect shape, then there was his mouth which- oh, time's up.

Jimin had cleared his throat to tear it away from its sleepiness and adoration-fit, "How was what?"

"Practice."

And that was when Jimin had perceived it in the older male's eyes. The way he had looked at Jimin screamed how much he wanted to know, how much he wanted to learn about him, how much he wanted to discover more of him. Seokjin cared.

And Jimin did too.

As they had started dance practice with the whole band, Jimin had made sure to help the male as well as he could as dance was his speciality: always cheering Seokjin on if the male looked tired, using his 'authority' as one of the main dancers to accord the boys -him- more breaks and fighting the staff to give him time to rest if he did not feel well.

Over time, they had grown closer and had kept taking care of each other; Jimin had developed the ability to learn all of his hyung's expressions when he danced; from the faintest trace of fatigue to the plain look of distress whenever he struggled with a move. And Jimin had become quicker and quicker to come to his rescue, going through the routine a few more times, more slowly, until Seokjin and him were both satisfied with his performance.

And Seokjin had seemed to always make sure that the younger dancer was satisfied with his performance, always going over the dance a few times with him only to be sure he understood it completely and made the right movements. And he made sure to compliment Jimin on his dancing as well, with this mesmerized look that made Jimin all flustered, his cheeks probably the colour of a vibrant shade of a fresh tomato.

But Seokjin was open-handed, and he did his best for everyone in the band, no one was left out of the fun with their loud and happy hyung. He was a good hyung to everyone.

So, what did that mean for Jimin? What did that mean for them?

It had taken a few -very painful, to Jimin- seconds for Taehyung to answer, but when he had, Jimin had had no other choice but to lift his head in his best friend’s direction, bewilderment evident on the older’s features.

“I knew it,” Taehyung had said simply, his head tilted up to watch the ceiling of the mall with narrowed eyes and a smile plastered on his lips. His tongue traced his bottom lip before he spoke up again, “I’m actually baffled that he has not realised it yet, or he’s very good at acting it out. When are you going to tell him anyway?”

And Jimin, as always when it came to Taehyung, had only been able to speak with his heart laid bare, his deepest feelings on display for the younger singer to judge him. He could not be more grateful to have such a wonderful, open, comprehensive and wise blue-haired friend -and Jimin’s tears had, once more, been the proof of that.

"Soon," Jimin had answered. "Very soon."

But even three months later, Jimin was nowhere near ready to tell the oldest of the group how he felt towards him. He was not ready for rejection just yet. He wanted to believe in love a little more; and if Seokjin's 'We need to talk.' held any sort of connotation to it, Jimin was pretty sure it was not a good one.

Taehyung had realised with ease how Jimin's eyes usually seemed to follow the boys in the classes they had together back in high school. How he could become really shy if the male he was crushing on at the time came to him to ask him about dancing. Some boys had broken his heart, of course, but it was always unknowingly, because Jimin had never dated a guy. Some had made fun of him for dancing 'like a girl' when really, they were only jealous of Jimin's control over his body. Yet, Jimin had felt as if they were somehow right, as if he was not good enough to let himself be what his heart and mind desired. Therefore, he had dated a girl back in high school, and it had lasted almost half a year but over summer break, Jimin had felt like he was losing himself, as if he was not being himself, so he had broken up. He had too, broken a heart.

He still felt bad about it. And most of the time, when he was on the verge of having a panic attack, this thought came to him and he was left to cry, becoming a pile of tears and snot on the floor where Yoongi was usually the first one to find him. The older male had tried to comfort Jimin, to tell him that there was no normality and him feeling attraction towards men -a man, in particular- did not change how much love his brothers felt for him.

Jimin liked guys. Taehyung knew it, Yoongi knew it, and even Namjoom had been Jimin's confident when he was going through a really hard time as a trainee. Though, Jimin had made sure to never come out publicly, and he was even more scared now that they had grown so popular.

Because Jimin could have been a flaming homo guy, showing his true colours for the world to see, jumping in on a conversation whenever the topic was to be brought up, but no. Instead, Jimin quieted down whenever interviewers asked the members about idols they were crushing on, refusing to meet anyone’s glance, or he faked liking someone from famous South Korean girls groups, forcing a smile on his lips and Jimin had, more often than not, when he had been able to, left the room, his feelings getting the best of him.

And even if he knew homouality was more easily accepted nowadays, his position on the spectrum of ualities was barely acknowledged. And he had believed for the longest time that it was just a myth, that he thought, like a lot of people do, that it was impossible to not feel ual attraction. What was the thing between his legs for if not having -well, and peeing too, but these were technicalities? Why did the chemical cocktail in his brain did not allow him to feel ual attraction when all his male acquaintances did -and he had asked that to more than a few friends. Why was he not ‘’ by or 'hot make-out scenes' on television?

And his answer had come one day, in the form of a mail from the psychologist he had contacted a few weeks before. His little secret was finally out for him to discover.

Jimin was aual.

And that had frightened him to death. It still did, occasionally. Especially when the guys made -jokes at dinner. Especially when Seokjin drained the alcoholic beverage in front of him, transforming the singer into a rambling machine of his own prowesses as a Dom Juan. Especially when his laughter echoed through the entirety of the dorm as the guys begged him not to give any more details about his conquests. Especially when Seokjin clearly stated that he was a very heteroual, hetero romantic guy.

That was when Jimin was the most terrified.

But Jimin's feelings were there. He could feel them culminating in the pit of his stomach, making his hands tremble whenever their gazes met, his whole body -figuratively- caught on fire whenever they back hugged each other after a great performance on stage or as they moved around the dorm during particularly draining days.

And if the young singer ever wanted to get over it, he either needed to open himself up to the subject of his sweetest dreams, or he would have to wrap his feelings up in a cloth, put them in a box, seal the box with the strongest glue, ship the box to the Sahara and bury it there. Far away from him. Far away from his burning heart and easily impressionable mind.

As he walked down the hallway, hanging -piling- his coat on the many -too many- jackets that rested -precariously balanced- on the tilted -completely bent- clothing hanger, he smiled, rolling his eyes at Tae's trademark messy habits that no one except his best friend ever took the time to take care of.

Some things never change, do they?

Jimin left the pile -disastrously-chaotic mountain- of clothes and advanced towards the main area. He spotted Yoongi with his back turned to him and heard Namjoon talk in the kitchen -or at least that’s where Jimin supposed he was considering that his voice came from the right, where the heaven of culinary goodness was located, as well as the slight buzzing of the water pumping into the pipes. Namjoon's voice was slightly deeper than usual and quieter as well, making it impossible to hear what the rapper was saying. Not that he really paid attention to it anyways, Jimin was however very interested in surprising the oldest of the rappers who stood only a few feet away from him. Tiptoeing his way across the glossy floor, making sure not to slip with his socks, Jimin reached the man swiftly.

“Suga!” Jimin exclaimed, throwing his arms around the rapper’s waist, making his shirt uncover a sliver of his own while he nuzzled his head into the man’s neck.

Yoongi's body did not tense up at Jimin’s touch, as if he knew the singer had been standing behind him just a few seconds ago. Suddenly, Jimin felt a sharp tingling on his waist, exactly where a bit of his shirt had been lifted from embracing his hyung. What he soon realized was that this tingling feeling was caused by his hyung's fingers on his sides. Jimin yelped, bending his arms to grab Yoongi's hands and push them away from his sides. The singer glued his arms to his body in an -not so successful- attempt at shaking off the feeling of Yoongi's hands on his waist. Jimin fiddled with the hem of his sweater, covering his previously-revealed flesh with the fabric. While trying to protect his body from Yoongi, the said-man turned around to shoot an angry, yet, slightly mocking glare at Jimin. Yoongi started to walk towards Jimin as the singer took two steps back for each that the rapper took in his direction. Jimin’s back soon hit the wall behind him and he gulped. Yoongi had always looked pretty scary to him, after all. He had yet to meet someone who could win a staring contest against the daegu boy.

“H-hi hyung,” Jimin breathed, hoping it would be enough of a submissive gesture so Yoongi would not let his wrath wash over the singer.

Yoongi’s hands found their way on the wall, on each side of Jimin’s head, and tilted his down to look deeply into Jimin’s eyes,

“Hello, Jimin.”

Jimin breathed rapidly, his cheeks burning up from their closeness, the tension and probably the change in temperature from the cold outside and the warmth of the dorm.

Yoongi did this often -some people may think it’s weird, but to the two boys, there was nothing more normal than pinning each other against a wall, trying to assert some kind of friendly teasing dominance... Well, said like that...- but Yoongi usually stopped after flicking Jimin’s ear, muttering something along the lines of 'you idiot' before walking away. This was different. His body leaned closer to Jimin, one of his legs almost found its way in-between Jimin’s. And, if Jimin did not know better, he would say that the older male was trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. But maybe, maybe Jimin was not so far from the truth.

“Yoongi, leave Jimin alone, he must be exhausted from the ride to the dorm.”

Seokjin appeared at the end of the hallway, his apron in hand, his hands on his hips, and a determined -almost angry-filled- expression on his features. Yoongi pushed himself off of the wall, smirking as he retreated from Jimin's form, and walked past the eldest.

“Yes, hyung,” he mumbled with a sarcastic tone to his voice.

Once Yoongi was out of sight, Seokjin dropped his intimidating stance and beckoned the younger singer in the kitchen where Namjoon was finishing to wash the dishes.

“I’ve got this,” Seokjin put a hand on BTS’ leader’s shoulder and sighed. “I’ll finish it, thanks for the help.”

Namjoon smiled at Seokjin, then at Jimin to whom he mouthed a quick ‘welcome back’, and back at the eldest at whom he nodded. He left the kitchen without a sound as Jimin ventured closer to the sink where Seokjin was rinsing plates, wiping the excess of water cascading down the cutlery in tiny droplets. There were only a few dishes left to dry on the counter and Jimin decided to help his hyung out by taking another rag and mimicking him.

Jimin waited patiently, in silence, until they were both done, knowing that Seokjin was mentally preparing himself to say what he wanted to say. And whatever it was, Jimin could feel that it had been on the older male’s mind for a while.

“Jimin…” Seokjin trailed off, putting the wet piece of cloth on the back of a chair when they were done, facing away from Jimin who sat himself on the counter, his form fitting perfectly between two cupboards. “We have to talk.”

Jimin started to nibble his bottom lip frankly, scared of what Seokjin may tell him, scared of what he could have done. Because Jimin knew he had done something wrong. He must have. And he was used to being called out for it; and it was fine, because his brothers only wanted the best for him, and they always formulated their remarks in a way that made Jimin feel not so much judged, but more pushed to thrive for a better version of himself. And he knew they only meant well with their constructive criticism, but Jimin was a fragile being, he knew it. He had known it as soon as he had cried in kindergarten when he could not read the time from the clock on the wall like one of his friends could. He had known it as soon he had cried in elementary school when his teacher had given him a bad grade on his math homework because he had not been able to complete it the night before, nor in the morning during the bus trip because he kept dozing off ‘thanks to’ his vigorous dance training. He had known it as soon as Taehyung had been the one to rub circles on his back as he cried because his so-called ‘high-school friends’ were making fun of him, pushing his buttons, bullying him for his Busan accent. He had known it as soon as he had stopped eating, sleeping, just to get thinner and gain muscle mass during his trainee days, just because people’s approval meant so much to him. He knew he was fragile because as soon as Seokjin turned to him, he felt tears glide down his cheeks, gathering on his chin.

“Oh, Jimin, it’s not a bad thing, I promise.”

Seokjin was at his side in a blink of an eye, his lips covering Jimin’s hands in kisses. And if Jimin hadn't been so lost in his thoughts, he would have realized how intimate the gesture was. But he just smiled. Jimin felt so happy that his hyung was not rejecting him despite his weakness.

But his mind continued to buzz with unhealthy thoughts, making a bittersweet taste appear in his mouth. Yes, he wanted more of Seokjin’s comfort, no, he did not deserve it.

Seokjin brushed Jimin’s hair out of his face, holding a strand behind his ear.

“You are so beautiful, Jimin.”

The younger singer bit his lip to contain his sobs as he started to dry his tears with the back of his sweater-covered hand. This was the one drop of affection that could destroy Jimin if Seokjin did not reciprocate his feelings. This was one of the sentences that Jimin had dreamed -literally dreamed- of hearing from his hyung. Because, to Jimin, the older singer's perception of the 95-liner was what mattered to him the most in the grand-scale of opinions.

“Jimin, I-” Seokjin stopped himself, closing his eyes as he brushed Jimin’s cheek with his thumb, sending a great of wave of chills cascading down Jimin’s back. The younger singer whimpered at the touch, shifting his hands so that they rested on Seokjin's shoulder, gripping them tightly as if he was scared his hyung would vanish.

Seokjin's gorgeous features contorted into a thoughtful expression. Jimin was quick to pick up on the fact that Seokjin had a hard time getting his words out, and that it was probably for the best if he kept thinking about how to open up before he regretted doing it poorly.

“Seokjin-hyung, it’s fine, you don’t have to tell me if it you don’t feel ready to.”

Seokjin looked back into Jimin’s eyes, the soft gaze he was giving him made the older male melt.

He shook his head. “No, I have to,” he spoke, intertwining his fingers with Jimin’s. "Jimin, I-"

But his voice was drowned by a much louder and deeper one.

"Jimin?!"

Taehyung rounded up the corner of the kitchen aisle, instantly noticing his best friend and hurrying to meet him, his arms wide open as they engulfed Jimin's shorter body against his. Seokjin had moved aside just in time to avoid being attacked by the charging bull that was Taehyung.

Jimin did not see that Seokjin had retreated back into his room until much later when Taehyung was done hugging -suffocating- Jimin, showering him with questions.

Shower.

Tomorrow, he will take a shower. Tomorrow, he will unpack his belongings. Tomorrow, he will see the rest of the boys whom he had desperately missed, even if he loved his family dearly, because, the other members were a part of his family too, they were his brothers. Tomorrow, he will talk to Seokjin. Tomorrow, he will be able to tell him how he feels.

But how did he feel exactly? What had Seokjin been on the verge of telling him? Why had Seokjin called him beautiful? How many more questions could fill his sleepless nights?

As he sat on his bed, shimmying out of his pants, he heard the mattress from the other bed in the room shift.

"How are you?" Yoongi asked, his voice deep with a pre-somnolent tone to it.

And that was one more question to which Jimin's answer could only ever be three simple words,

"I don't know."

_____________

~FrenchieAuthor's note:

I think this is the quickest chapter I have ever written in my entire life considering its length. I guess Boy in Luv has really been my muse these days.

Alright, so, for people who've read my previous works, I hope I'm not pushing this aual thing that I have going on in everyone's face as if it was the only reason why people could not or would not want to have . I give a lot of myself to my characters because it's easier for me to lose myself into writing when I can relate to the character's perspective, if that makes sense? But obviously, you don't have to be aual to not want . You can feel ual attraction and live without having to engage into ual regularly, or ever, I guess. It can be something you enjoy from time to time, just like a good restaurant. (Did- did I just compare and eating at a restaurant? I- okay, nevermind.) But I hope it makes sense. Jimin is aual because I need to be close to my character so I keep writing and not throw another idea into my fanfiction bin, but someone does not have to be aual to not want to jump someone's bones whenever they feel attracted to them. I hope I made myself clear. And wherever you place yourself on the uality spectrum (and if you don't know, you do you, don't let idiot society pressure you), know that you are loved and I fully support you!

As always, if any of you have inquiries or requests to make for future chapters or stories, feel free to contact me, both here and on Twitter @FrenchieAuthor!

Thank you all for reading, I wish you a very good night/day!