Natural Disaster

by QueenLokiii

Summary:

“You can’t be serious. You have a problem with heights?!”

Jimin's jaw tightened. “I can do it.”

He wasn’t sure that was true, but what other option did he have? Yoongi already apparently thought he was a waste of space, and he wasn’t about to prove him right; again.

Notes:

• For idyllicsoullll.

Chapter 1

 

 

 

The lodge was every part as luxurious as the website had suggested it would be, with its high ceilings and glass panelled walls, the light bouncing off the mountain outside illuminating the entire space with little need for any actual lighting.

This was the life Jimin had been expecting when he took the job as a travel writer. A few interviews, and then into a hot tub, maybe the pool, and no doubt the room he had booked would have a bed as big as his apartment if the lobby was anything to go by.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Jimin blinked at the woman on the front desk; he had been so lost in his surroundings that he hadn’t even noticed her walking over. “Hey, sorry. I’m checking in, I’m supposed to meet Kim Seokjin here?”

“No, you’re not.”

Jimin looked round, spotting a man pacing toward him, so bundled in his clothing that he was just pinkened cheeks and the most piercing eyes Jimin had ever seen. “Are you talking to me?”

The man hummed, pushing down his scarf and sweeping back his hood, removing a beany and running his fingers through wavy hair a few times to flatten it out. “I’m assuming you’re Park Jimin?”

“I am.”

“Min Yoongi,” the man introduced, removing one of his gloves and extending his hand out, surprisingly warm as it enclosed Jimin’s and they shook. “I’m the photographer, and Jin is rarely at the base of a mountain when he can be at the top of one.”

“Oh… I was told-”

“Drop your stuff off and get changed,” Yoongi instructed. “I know where he’ll be, and the sooner we set off the better. Even by cable car, it’ll take a bit to get up there.”

Get up where? Changed into what? “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Yoongi frowned, eyes dragging over him in a way that made Jimin want to put his hands on his hips in defiance. “What?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it if you’re planning to freeze to death on the side of the mountain.”

He paused, waiting for Jimin to do or say something but he appeared to be frozen to the spot and Yoongi cast his eyes over the small suitcase beside him. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“I have,” Jimin protested, annoyed by the insinuation. “I’ve been writing for the magazine for two years.”

“Really? Your name didn’t exactly jump out at me when I saw it, and I’ve never been assigned to you before, so you can’t have done much of worth.”

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi shrugged, apparently unbothered by the incredibly rude remark. “I’ve been doing this for six years, they pair me with the best; this is the first time I’ve ever heard your name, and you clearly don’t have a clue what you’re doing if you think you’re going to hike across a mountain in designer shoes. Come on.”

He turned on his heel, striding confidently away across the lobby, stopping only when he realised Jimin wasn’t following him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, stomping impatiently back toward Jimin and picking up his suitcase, not surprised in the slightest by how light it was. “Either you’re borrowing clothes from me, or you’re going home without your interview. So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer, striding away with the suitcase and Jimin raced after him.

“You can’t just-”

“Get in the elevator.”

“No!” Jimin yelled, several people looking up at the outburst as he snatched his suitcase back. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself. I’ll buy something.”

“Settle down, princess. Closest store is an hour away, and Jin doesn’t wait. If you don’t want to be chasing him up and down the mountain, we need to be up there in the next forty-five minutes. My clothes are clean, maybe a little big, but they’ll do,” he reeled off, ignoring Jimin’s scowl. “You can go play tourist and buy everything you didn’t bring when we’re done.”

Jimin was fairly certain he had never met anyone quite as insufferable as the man in front of him, but he couldn’t fail at this. As much as he hated to admit it, Yoongi wasn’t entirely wrong; he hadn’t written any articles of note. He was usually limited to traveling across Korea reviewing hotels and restaurants. It was quite by chance that the woman who was supposed to be on this job landed in hospital with appendicitis and Jimin had been thrust into the role; mostly because there was nobody else available at such short notice.

“Fine,” he huffed, dragging his feet as he walked into the elevator and leaning against the mirrored wall, glaring at Yoongi as the doors closed. “Where do we even have to go?”

Yoongi smirked, pointing a long finger toward the ceiling of the elevator. “Straight up to the top.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean the rooms, I meant for the interview.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Straight to the top,” he repeated exaggeratedly as they reached their floor and he stepped out, Jimin almost getting trapped inside as he froze in shock, darting out as the doors started to close and chasing Yoongi along the hall.

“You mean the mountain?!”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow as he dug around an inside pocket, extracting a key card and swiping the door, pushing into his room. “Well, obviously,” he replied, pulling open the small wardrobe and extracting several items, laying them out across the bed. “He’s a professional, award-winning snowboarder, where did you think he was going to be? Put that on.”

Jimin frowned at the sheer fabric. “Doesn’t look very warm.”

“It’s an undershirt. The clue is there in the name,” he deadpanned before pointing at the other items on the bed. “There’s an extra jumper, a decent coat, put those socks over the ones you’re already wearing,” he listed off, pacing across to the far side of the room and looking through a draw. “I should have another hat and gloves too. What size shoe are you?” he asked, looking back and seeing Jimin fidgeting. “Go ahead, I won’t peek.”

“Shut up,” Jimin grumbled, turning his back on Yoongi and shuffling out of his coat, lifting off his top and pulling on the undershirt, frowning at just how see through it was when it was on his body and quickly covering it with his t-shirt again, turning back and seeing Yoongi watching him. “What?”

“Shoe size,” Yoongi repeated, pointing toward the row of shoes against the far wall. “I need to know if I have anything that will fit you.”

“Usually eight, sometimes a nine.”

Yoongi smiled and Jimin rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Yes, haha, I have tiny feet. Have you got something or not?”

“I was actually going to say that it’s a good thing we’re about the same size,” Yoongi replied, selecting a pair and setting them down in front of Jimin before walking off into the bathroom and Jimin wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Just in case he wasn’t humiliated enough, now he had insulted the, albeit rude, man that was trying to help him.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he mumbled, startling a little when Yoongi stepped into his space, but the man only rearranged his collar and hood, zipping the coat the rest of the way up and frowning, walking back to the draw and returning with a scarf that he wrapped around Jimin’s neck.

“That will have to do. If you get too cold, you’ll have to tell me immediately; I mean it,” he warned. “There’s no room for pride out there. If you feel really cold, really hot, or suddenly tired, tell someone.”

“Really hot?” Jimin questioned as he followed Yoongi out of the room and back into the elevator, feet dragging slightly under the weight of the heavy boots that were just a tiny bit too big.

Yoongi gave him a grave look. “If you get to that stage, we have a problem. Late-stage hypothermia,” he explained. “In all seriousness, if you don’t think you can handle this, then don’t come.”

Jimin dipped his head. “I think I’ll be okay. But you… can you help me?” he asked, fingers twisting nervously together. “I know it’s not your job, but no; I’ve never been in a setting like this one, and you clearly know better than I do.”

“Clearly,” Yoongi parroted back, but there was a touch of humour to his voice this time. “You’ve never been skiing then?” he asked casually as they passed back through the lobby and out of the building, the thin layer of snow crunching beneath their feet as they walked.

“Oh, god no. I would break my neck immediately,” Jimin replied, and almost as if the universe was poised to do so, he skidded slightly on the icy ground, proving his own point as he reoriented himself. “Do you ski?”

“I have done; I wouldn’t call it a hobby though,” Yoongi replied, hand shooting out as Jimin skidded again. “You doing okay there, Bambi?”

“The pet names aren’t cute you know,” Jimin pouted, swatting Yoongi’s hand away and immediately regretting it as both feet moved in separate directions and he leaned backward, his fall mostly broken by the enormous coat Yoongi had dressed him in. “For fuck’s sake, how are you walking on this?!”

Yoongi chuckled, crouching beside him. “I’m a professional, Bambi. Grab on.”

Jimin’s face flushed bright red, gripping onto Yoongi’s arm and allowing him to pull him back upright, not letting go this time. He needed this interview; he would just have to deal with the humiliation of apparently resembling a baby deer. “How far do we have to go?”

Yoongi pointed toward where a large gathering of people stood. “Literally just there, then it’s a straight ride up.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he stared at the cable cars slowly rising up the side of the mountain. “That’s… they’re… is there another way up?”

“Only if you fancy hours of wading through snow that can sink you as deep as your thighs in places. What’s the issue?” he questioned, eyes on Jimin’s face as they got closer and following his gaze upward, barely supressing an eye roll when he realised. “You can’t be serious. You have a problem with heights?!”

Jimin's jaw tightened. “I can do it.”

He wasn’t sure that was true, but what other option did he have? Yoongi already apparently thought he was a waste of space, and he wasn’t about to prove him right; again.

“Let me speak to someone, maybe I can go up and get the shots I need and then convince him to take a short break to come down and speak to you here.”

“No,” Jimin protested. “I can do it. I just have to sit in the thing, right? I’ll close my eyes, and you can tell me when to open them again.”

Yoongi shook his head in disbelief at the clearly terrified man beside him. “If you say so. Come on, we’re up next,” he instructed guiding Jimin forward and smiling at the staff who stood waiting. “This one’s a first timer.”

“Nothing to it,” the woman beamed, pointing to the seats as they slowly rolled down. “When it hits the back of your legs, sit, and then pull the guard rail down. You’ll hear a click, then away you go!”

“And if I don’t hear a click?” Jimin questioned, but she didn’t answer, the seat hitting his legs and he dropped beside Yoongi, who confidently reached for the bar and snapped it into place.

“If you don’t hear the click, you still have about a minute and a half to lift it and jump off,” he explained, pointing to where their feet were still barely off the ground as the carousel turned them round and back toward the mountainside. “Ready?”

Nope. Not even a little bit. But he was on now, and with every passing second his feet were getting further away from the floor, dangling beneath him in a way that made him feel even less secure in his seat, fingers already aching from how hard he gripped the bar.

“You’re fine. You’re not going to fall.”

Jimin clamped his eyes shut. “Please don’t talk about falling,” he pleaded, an entirely undignified squeak escaping him as they came to a sudden stop, swinging him back and forth in the air before it began moving again. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

An arm pushed under his own, the new proximity squashing him against the edge of the seat. “Just breathe. You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I-”

Yoongi shushed him, the arm around his own tightening. “Just keep those eyes closed. I’ll tell you when we’re there, you’re going to be fine. Gotta say: gold star for effort.”

Jimin shook his head. “Please don’t tease me right now.”

“I’m not teasing. I mean it. Takes balls to do something that scares you, and you just went for it,” Yoongi explained. “You were brave; I respect that.”

Okay. Jimin wasn’t expecting that.

“You might think differently if I start actually crying.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Yoongi replied, tone even softer, and Jimin could feel him shrugging. “You still did it, and it was still brave of you, so even if you were crying your eyes out, you’d still get the points. You’re almost halfway there now.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

Jimin let out a long breath. “You know Kim Seokjin well?” he asked, striving for a new subject to distract himself as the car jolted again and he felt his stomach tighten; apparently it was possible to feel seasick hundreds of miles above water.

“I’ve worked with him on and off for a couple of years,” Yoongi started, and Jimin could hear the smile in his voice. “I should warn you, he’s very fond of PDA, and you’re exactly his type.”

“Type?”

“Hmm. Small and cute.”

Jimin was so taken aback by the statement that he almost opened his eyes, squeezing them shut tighter as the flicker of white that surrounded them broke through. “You think I’m cute?”

“He will think you’re cute,” Yoongi clarified.

“So… you don’t think I’m cute?” Jimin teased, chancing opening his eye just a crack to see Yoongi’s reaction, but the man only stared upward toward their destination.

“I suppose so. In the way that a drunk toddler is cute.”

Jimin pouted, closing his eyes again. “Are you always this much of an ass?”

Yoongi chuckled again. “No, I save it for the special few, and you are very special.”

Jimin opened his mouth to retort, but Yoongi cut him off before he could start. “Okay, just another minute, and then we can get off.”

There was another jolt, a click, a clunk, and the weight of Yoongi’s body vanished from his side. “It’s okay, open your eyes and hop down.

He performed a sort of graceless shuffle, eyes cracked open just enough to see Yoongi poised to catch him as he slid down, thankfully landing on his feet and staying that way. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing that they were a long way up from where they had started, but now he wasn’t suspended, it didn’t seem quite so high. “Wow.”

“Move.”

“What?”

Yoongi grabbed his arm, tugging him forward and he stumbled, almost knocking Yoongi over in the process. “What are you doing?!”

“We weren’t the only people on that ride, you know. I thought you might enjoy the experience a little more if you didn’t get knocked over by the next car coming round.”

“Oh… right,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Where do we go now?”

“YOONGI!”

The cry was so loud that several people looked up in search of the source, Jimin included, eyes squinting against the blinding white as a man waved at them from a few feet away and Yoongi smiled. “You’re interview awaits. Think you can walk over there without falling on your ass?”

“You’re a nightmare.”

“I think you rather like it.”

His voice was teasing, maybe even a little suggestive, and Jimin glared at him. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“As you wish. Come on, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

~*~

 

Though Yoongi’s description of him had been brief, Seokjin was exactly as described. It was already difficult enough to manage his recorder in the huge pair of gloves he was wearing, but Seokjin’s apparent need to touch him every ten seconds made it so much harder, and twice he almost dropped it into the snow.

“Go easy on him Jinnie,” Yoongi laughed as Jimin fumbled the machine for a third time, just barely catching it. “He’s used to cosy hotels and solid ground; you bump into him too hard you’ll knock him over.”

“Ah, I’m sorry baby,” Seokjin cooed, padded gloves squashing Jimin’s cheeks. “You’re just so adorable, I can’t help myself. I want to wrap you up in a blanket and give you little things to eat.”

“He’s not a pet.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Seokjin grinned. “You’re my pet, and completely irreplaceable. What do you think, Jiminie? Doesn’t he look like the cutest little kitty you ever saw?” he asked, moving to squash Yoongi’s cheeks but he evaded the attempt.

Jimin giggled at Yoongi's apparent distaste for the comment, nodding his head. “Especially with his little pink nose.”

“Exactly! The cutest little nose in existence,” Seokjin beamed, finally managing to grab Yoongi and pinning him in his arms.

“Get off.”

“He even struggles like a cat, see?” Seokjin grinned, holding him in place for a few more seconds before letting go. “He pretends he doesn’t like it, but I know he does. Now, take your pretty pictures, because I need to practice.”

“Can I ask one more thing?” Jimin asked, drawing Seokjin’s attention again as Yoongi pulled off one of his gloves just long enough to line up and adjust the camera already on the tripod beside him. “Which you absolutely don’t have to answer if you don’t want to; it’s more of a personal curiosity than anything.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you ever scared?”

Seokjin smiled. “Every single day. One wrong move, and it’s game over for me, and there is nothing else in the world that I would ever want to do. But that’s what drives me to do it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple; if this was my last day on earth, I want to spend it doing what I love. Yes, I might live another fifty years bundled up at home with a duvet and a feel-good movie, but I would rather breathe my last breath right here fifty years too soon than live with the regret. When I want to do something, I just do it, and hope that I’ll live to look back on it knowing that I fully, completely, lived.”

The response was astounding. Seokjin had been nothing but professional throughout the interview, despite his jovial personality, but his final answer carried weight. His fear didn’t hold him back; it drove him forward.

“What’s that thing you said first time we met, Yoongi?”

Yoongi mumbled something Jimin couldn’t quite hear, but Seokjin must have caught just enough of it to remember. “That was it. I paraphrased it a bit and made it a mantra,” Seokjin said, turning his eyes on Jimin. “If you know you’re going to crash, accelerate more.”

“Wow, that’s…”

“Extreme, I know; but in the end, I die with a smile and a million amazing memories.”

Jimin wasn't sure what he was more amazed by; the sheer courage that came from knowing that death was around every corner, or that fact that it was Yoongi who was behind such a profound thought. He was a little ashamed to admit that he had made a judgement of Yoongi based on the past couple of hours, and he was clearly wrong.

“Yeah, yeah, the sooner you fall off a mountain, the better,” Yoongi said, though there was a look in his eyes that said otherwise. “Smile.”

 

~*~

 

The ride down the mountain was much the same as the ride up; Jimin closed his eyes, Yoongi held onto his arm to make him feel more secure, and when they reached the bottom, it was with a gentle nudge and a hand that offered to help him down, which Jimin took this time.

“You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking,” Jimin murmured, treading carefully as they paced back toward the lobby of the resort, pleased when he only slid once and not badly enough for it to be noticeable. “I need a hot drink; my fingers are starting to ache.”

Yoongi frowned as they stepped inside, reaching for the gloves and carefully peeling them off. It was oddly tender, the way he lifted each of Jimin’s hands in turn, checking over the tips of his fingers. “Am I okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure. Your stuff is still in my room; I’ll make us some drinks while you sort your room out, if you like?”

Jimin had intended on picking something up from the small café on the second floor but supposed it couldn’t hurt to warm up and get settled into his room before he started exploring, and he felt like he owed Yoongi a chance at a fresh start.

He didn’t bother to unpack, dumping his things into the room adjacent to Yoongi’s and shuffling out of the clothes he wore, hanging them up around the room to dry, wondering once again about Seokjin’s mantra.

If he died tonight, what would he wish he had done? What would he have enjoyed if he wasn’t afraid to do it?

He shook himself off, pacing back into the hall and tapping on Yoongi’s door, the man opening it for him a few seconds later and pointing to the small counter area. “Your drink’s there,” he said shortly, sitting back down at the desk and staring at his laptop.

“Are those the pictures from today?”

Yoongi hummed at him, one hand picking up his coffee as the other scrolled, looking more displeased by the minute. “Fuck it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll have to go back up tomorrow; I can’t use these. I would have to doctor them to death,” Yoongi grumbled, sliding back in his seat and Jimin wandered over to look over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with them?” Jimin asked, genuinely curious. He was no photographer; he could barely take a decent selfie, but the images Yoongi was still flicking through all looked stunning, everything from posed shots to candid side-profiles of Seokjin smiling and laughing.

“Too much glare, too little exposure… just, trust me, they’re not good enough,” Yoongi explained loosely, about to close the window when Jimin leaned over his shoulder, pointing to a few.

“Are those ones of me?”

Yoongi shrugged. “While the two of you were talking, I took a few test shots. Don’t worry, I don’t post them anywhere; I’ll probably delete all these anyway.”

“Can I see them first?”

“I guess so, they don’t do you much justice though,” he warned, opening the first picture and Jimin leaned in closer, brushing against his shoulder but not seeming bothered by the proximity.

“Would you let me keep them?” he asked, eyes wide and lips parted, an obvious look of wonder on his face as he flicked through the shots. “They’re beautiful.”

“Love yourself much?”

Jimin huffed, drawing back and swatting at his arm. “I was complimenting your work,” he pouted. “And I’ve never been up a mountain before, so I thought it would make for a nice memory to look back on, but if you’re going to be a jerk about it-”

“Chill, Bambi, I was joking. Make sure I have your personal email before we head home, and I’ll send them to you,” Yoongi cut him off with a roll of his eyes.

Jimin drained the last of his drink, setting the mug down on the counter. “I’m going to relax. What time are we going in the morning?”

“We?”

Jimin paused as he reached the door, looking back over his shoulder. “If you know you’re going to crash, accelerate more, right?”

Chapter 2

Park Jimin was not what Yoongi had been expecting.

He was friendly, overly polite and respectful when he interviewed, entirely clueless, and stubborn as a mule.

“Just eat it.”

“No. I’m not hungry. I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Well, you should. You’re skinny. And I bought it for you. You’re being rude.”

“I’m being rude?! You just called me skinny, and I am not skinny.”

Yoongi pinched his arm and even through the long sleeves of his t-shirt there wasn’t much to grab onto, Jimin yelping and backing up. “I’ve seen saplings with more substance. You are in France; eat the damn croissant.”

Jimin crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. “I’ll have you know, I am lean muscle, thank you very much. I work out four days a week.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine, go hungry then,” he sniped, sliding the pastry back into the bag it had come from and dusting off the plate into the bin, jumping at the feeling of fingers clamping down against the back of his arm. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, what? You can pinch me, but I can’t pinch you back?”

“I’m not the one with negative body fat pretending they’re not hungry,” Yoongi retorted, rubbing at the area. “I don’t even know why you’re here. Go get a massage or something.”

“No,” Jimin pouted. “I’m going back up with you.”

“Go back up on your own.”

Jimin opened his mouth but closed it again, eyes downcast, and a bubble of guilt settled in Yoongi’s chest as the blonde headed for the door. “Fine. I’ll see you up there.”

“Jimin-”

The door clicked shut and Yoongi wilted in his seat. Jimin had been hoping for someone to help him face his fear, and he had thrown it in his face over a croissant.

He threw the rest of his things into his bag, rechecking the camera battery was fully charged and the memory card installed properly, grabbing the abandoned breakfast and adding it to the mix before heading for the door, knocking at Jimin’s to ask if he still wanted to go but not getting a response.

I’ll see you up there.

“Damnit,” he mumbled to himself, darting for the elevator and hurrying across the lobby when he reached the bottom, eyes scanning his surroundings, hoping that Jimin hadn’t left yet but seeing nothing, almost skidding as he rushed out into the snow, narrowly avoiding crashing into someone. “Oh, damn, sorry.”

“Relax, kitty. It’s only me.”

Yoongi frowned, looking up and finding Seokjin beaming back at him. “What are you doing here?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Had a late one yesterday so slept in this morning. Decided to do a little observation instead.”

“Observation?”

“Hmm. I’m curious to know if he’ll do it.”

Yoongi’s eyes followed Seokjin’s as he looked round, the electric blue of the coat Jimin wore clearly distinguishable amongst the crowd that stood waiting to board the cable cars. “He has a heights thing.”

Seokjin hummed again. “I figured as much. He keeps joining the line and then cutting out of it again. Every time he gets near the front, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears.”

Yoongi’s chest tightened with guilt again, feet carrying him away from Seokjin and straight to Jimin’s side just as he pulled out of the line again, looking deeply frustrated. “You can do it.”

Jimin huffed, turning his back on Yoongi. “Leave me alone.”

He had never been good with his words, not in the moment anyway. He could write things out in a perfectly articulate manner, but conversation was quite another thing. He had always relied on his actions to speak for him. “I have an idea. Something that might help.”

That, at least, seemed to get Jimin’s attention, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. “Like what?”

He pulled Jimin away from the crowd, crouching on the ground. “Get on my back.”

“What?”

“My back. Get on. I’m going to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

Jimin frowned. “Why would I trust you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You’ve got no reason to think I would hurt you.”

“I’ve got no reason to think you wouldn’t.”

Yoongi stood up straight again. “Are you always this insufferable? It’s supposed to be like a simulation kind of thing, so you can get used to the feeling of being off the ground, but you can just get down whenever you want. I am trying to help.”

Jimin blinked owlishly at the explanation. “Oh.”

“So, are we doing this? Or not?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, or no, Jimin.”

Jimin chewed at his lip, giving a nervous nod and Yoongi dropped to the ground again, pushing up and wrapping his arms around Jimin’s legs, the grip awkward in the thick layers of clothing they both wore. “Okay, how are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Shut your eyes,” he instructed, waiting for a second before he started to walk around, feeling the hands at his shoulders tighten. “Still okay?”

“Yeah.”

He released Jimin’s legs, feeling him slide down onto his feet and he crouched down again. “Ready to go higher?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi pointed to his shoulders. “Hop on. I won’t let go.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know…”

“I’ll stand behind you.”

The pair looked back, Seokjin eying them curiously, clearly having watched the entire exchange so far. “Yoongi’s steady enough, but if you feel shaky, I can get you down fast.”

Jimin swallowed hard, clearly embarrassed. “Okay… I’ll try.”

He stepped over Yoongi, thighs tensing as soon as his feet were off the ground, the pair wobbling slightly as Jimin scrambled for purchase. “No, no, no, I don’t like it.”

“You’re okay,” Seokjin soothed, reaching up and gripping firmly at Jimin’s waist, helping him stabilise.

“I’m going to fall.”

“And what happens if you do?”

Jimin hesitated. What would happen? A bump? A bruise? He wasn’t high enough to break a bone, and there were two people right there to stop that happening either way.

“There we go,” Seokjin smiled. “Now you’re getting it. Let go.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re crushing Yoongi’s skull. Let go; I’ll hold you up.”

Yoongi smiled. Yes, Jimin’s grip on his head and shoulders was mildly painful, but he would have been happy to ignore it. “Come on, Bambi. Accelerate.”

He felt more than he saw Jimin trying to calm himself, the hands digging into his head loosening, and he wished he could have torn himself in half so that he could take a picture when those hands finally let go. It was only for a few seconds, but Jimin let himself be suspended in the air, and when he grabbed on again, the hold was softer. “You want to get down?”

“Yes. Please.”

Yoongi lowered slowly, hands pressed to the ground and head bowed so Jimin could more easily climb off.

“See? Piece of cake, right?” Seokjin beamed, throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder as Yoongi got up. “Stick with it. Eventually, you’ll wonder why you were ever scared in the first place and if this guy’s got an idea to help,” he added, shifting to put his other arm around Yoongi’s shoulders too, “then run with it. He’s the smartest guy I know.”

“Quit it,” Yoongi grumbled, shuffling free of the hold. “Are we going up, or not? It’s freezing, and I need to get these shots.”

Seokjin hummed in a sing-song way, cocking his head. “No, I think I’ll take the day off, but Jimin here is ready to take a ride, and he can’t very well go alone,” he decided, nudging Jimin toward Yoongi and walking off, waving over his shoulder. “Come find me for dinner! I’ll pay!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, looking back over his shoulder at Jimin. “Well, that’s that then. What’s it to be? Up the mountain, or into a hot tub?”

Jimin’s eyes scaled the mountain, a determined look coming over his face. “I’m going to do it,” he declared, taking a few steps before looking back, the confidence in his tone slipping. “You’re coming too, right?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tease Jimin about how fast his bravery vanished when he was faced with doing things on his own, but he held back. He was genuinely proud of Jimin for still wanting to do it despite how obviously shaken he had been simply by sitting on Yoongi’s shoulders. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

The seat hit his legs, he sat, the bar snapped into place, and he sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly, attempting to relax his grip.

“Do you want to close your eyes again?”

Jimin shook his head, peering down toward his feet and instantly paling, despite being barely a meter off the ground so far. “Look straight ahead,” Yoongi instructed, hand under Jimin’s chin and pushing it upward. “Always look the way you want to go.”

“Okay.”

Jimin was shaking wildly beside him, and it had nothing to do with the cold, but he was doing it. He was suspended in the air, tears in his eyes, but they were still open, laser focused on the mountains peak. “You’re doing great.”

“I’m not.”

“Then focus on me; shut out the surroundings for a minute,” he attempted, but he could see the fear turning to panic with every passing second, Jimin pushing himself back in the seat as far as he could go, breaths coming shorter and faster and Yoongi grabbed hold of him, hoping the feeling might offer some sense of security, surprised when Jimin released the bar and clung to him, face buried against his jacket.

“You’re okay, I won’t let go. You’re almost there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re doing an amazing job, just hang in there a few more minutes, and you can get off.”

Jimin shook his head holding on tighter. “I want to go back down. I don’t want to stop at the top.”

“Okay. We can do that. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

“Tell me about those words; the ones Jin likes,” Jimin requested, clearly looking for a distraction and Yoongi was pleased that Jimin couldn’t see his face as he blushed.

“I, uh… for a while, I dabbled in music. Song writing, and producing, mostly. First time I met Jin, the setting was a lot more casual, and we just got talking about what he thought our lives would look like when we were younger, and I mentioned it, and he asked to see something I’d written,” he explained as the cable car turned and he waved off the attendant as she moved to unclip the bar, pointing back down and she gave a silent thumbs up and a sympathetic look to Jimin’s partially coiled form.

“Do you still do it?”

“Not really. I write down the odd line here and there if it gets stuck in my head, but I don’t see it going anywhere, so I don’t put any real energy into it.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to peek up at him. “I don’t think that’s true. It’s inspiring. People need that.”

The car jolted and Jimin squeaked, vanishing back into his chest. “Maybe, one day, I’ll get to see the view because of you.”

Yoongi’s heart jumped. He had always dismissed Seokjin’s insistence that his words had made him a better athlete, but something about the way Jimin spoke wrapped around him. Whether he was looking around or not, Jimin was doing something he was truly terrified of because of a throwaway line in a song he wrote almost ten years ago.

“Or maybe I’m the cause of a lot of people crashing.”

Jimin shook his head again. “No… your words… you give them permission to grow.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, relieved that he didn’t need to respond as they approached the ground, patting at Jimin’s back. “You can open your eyes now; we’re almost at the bottom.”

Jimin peered out again, but his fingers remained clamped around Yoongi’s jacket until the bar was lifted, and he was able to slide down onto the ground, legs feelings like jelly as the adrenaline drained from him. “I don’t feel good.”

Yoongi swept an arm around him, guiding him away from the swinging cars, his grip firm under Jimin’s arm and around his back. “One foot in front of the other; we need to get you inside, and then you can sit. What doesn’t feel good?”

“I feel dizzy… sick…”

“Okay, you’re okay, just hold on,” Yoongi encouraged, hesitating for a moment before he shifted, lifting Jimin right off the ground and Jimin yelped, throwing his arms around Yoongi’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

“If you go down, we’re both in trouble,” Yoongi replied shortly, quickening his pace as much as he dared across the thin layer of snow, a few flakes starting to flutter down around them. “I’m sorry, I just need to get you inside in case something happens.”

Jimin didn’t reply, head dipped as Yoongi carried him along the last of the road and through the doors, a few people looking up as he stepped inside, clearly worried, one face above all standing out as it hurried toward them. “What happened? What’s wrong? Excuse me, can someone get us some help!” Seokjin called out, and Jimin wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

“Calm down, I think he’s okay, he just felt dizzy, and I didn’t want him to fall,” Yoongi explained, glancing at Jimin. “Do you think you can stand? Or do you want me to take you up to your room?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” Seokjin protested, waving over a concerned looking man in resort uniform and Jimin whined, curling himself into Yoongi.

“Please, god, just take me upstairs.”

“Jin, he’s fine,” Yoongi insisted on Jimin’s behalf, shooting the staff member an apologetic look. “He just needs to lay down a while, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Yoongi replied, a finality to his tone as he started to walk away. “I love you, Jinnie, but he’s overwhelmed, and you’ll make it worse. Just give us a bit and I’ll come find you, okay?”

Seokjin relented, his worried gaze following Yoongi’s back until he disappeared inside the elevator.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I know, I’m sorry, he’s just like that; in another life, he would have been an incredible nurse. With legs like his, he could easily pull off the uniform too,” he joked, pleased when Jimin snorted against his shoulder. “How you doing?”

“Better.”

“Good. You okay coming to my room for a bit? Just in case?”

Jimin nodded, finally raising his head as they stepped out of the elevator. “You can put me down. I’m okay, really.”

Yoongi lowered him to the floor as they reached the door of his room, one arm still firmly around Jimin’s back, not quite ready to test just how ‘okay’ he was really feeling, swiping the card and guiding him inside. “Just dump your stuff on the floor there and lie down for a minute. I know you said you feel okay but catch your breath and I’ll make you a drink, just to be sure.”

Jimin perched himself on the foot of the neatly made bed, leaning forward to unlace the boots and freezing, sitting himself back upright again. Despite being back on solid ground, his head was still spinning with the image of the ground being a long way below his feet, and it sent another small wave of panic through his body, sliding down to sit on the floor instead, Yoongi back by his side in a heartbeat. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jimin sighed out, eyes on his lap. “It’s sort of like vertigo, but it’s all my head. I’m fine.”

Yoongi’s eyes were soft, worried, confused. He was trying to understand. Trying to figure out what to do. It was endearing as much as it was mortifying, because Yoongi looked guilty. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to shake it off. It happens all the time,” he continued, hoping that the explanation would enforce the fact that Yoongi’s words might have been the thing that made him want to try, but it wasn’t his fault it hadn’t gone the way he hoped.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Jimin went on as Yoongi settled against the bed beside him, close enough to help if it was needed but with enough space between them to be respectful; despite the fact that Jimin had more-or-less been wrapped around him like a koala all morning. “The thing where you lifted me, that was kind of cool.”

“Didn’t help much though, did it?”

“It did actually… just not in the way I think you intended,” Jimin mused. “I was scared when we started going up, but…”

Yoongi peered at him curiously and Jimin felt his cheeks warming. “But?”

“But I knew you wouldn’t let me fall,” Jimin murmured out, embarrassed by the admission. “Knowing you were there… I think it would have been a lot worse if I had been on my own.”

“You credit me with too much.”

“You don’t credit yourself with enough,” Jimin countered. “I’d love to know what other wisdom you’ve hidden away in your lyrics some time.”

Yoongi chuckled at the concept, chancing leaning sideways to nudge his shoulder against Jimin’s. “Maybe if our paths cross again, you could drag it out of me with a few drinks.”

“We could have a few drinks later,” Jimin pointed out. “It’s my last night; it would be good to just relax.”

“Dinner with Jinnie, remember?”

Jimin wilted slightly. “Oh… right. We could still have one after, if you want? I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much anyway.”

“Why not?”

Jimin’s head dropped back against the edge of the bed, bottom lip pulled into his mouth and laughing at himself; anticipating the teasing that was likely to follow. “Flying.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. Why?”

Yoongi hummed, a sparkle of mischief to his eyes. “I was just curious how many years you’ve been wrapped in cotton wool so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Oh my god, you are such an ass!” Jimin said, swatting at Yoongi’s arm, but he was laughing as he did. “I do plenty. I just have a higher regard for self-preservation than most.”

“That’s a very fancy way of saying you’re scared of everything. What else are you scared of?”

Jimin grinned. “Maybe if our paths cross again, you could drag it out of me with a few drinks,” he parroted, drawing a laugh from Yoongi.

“Touché. How’s your head? Think we can get you up?” he asked, shifting on the spot. “I don’t know about you, but my butt is going numb.”

“One way to find out,” Jimin shrugged, shuffling awkwardly as he attempted to get up, still overdressed and grateful when Yoongi extended a hand to pull him up, holding onto his hand longer than he needed to.

“All good?”

Jimin looked down at his feet, the fastest test for how stable he really was, the ground beneath him remaining firmly in place. “Yeah. All good.”

“Coffee?”

“Please,” Jimin smiled as Yoongi finally released him, heading for the counter and setting about making their drinks just as he had done the day before, Jimin peeling off the layers he wore and laying them neatly on the floor beside the bed as Yoongi had previously instructed.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Jimin coiled onto the small sofa by the window, staring out at the snow-covered scenery, enjoying the peace of it as he sipped at his drink, letting the warmth wash away the morning.

Well, most of the morning.

The heat of the drink as it ran down his throat sparked a feeling. A newly forming memory. It felt like being held. It felt like safety. Comfort.

It felt like Yoongi.

“Can you grab my camera out of that bag please?” Yoongi requested, pointing to where he had left it on the counter, and Jimin complied without question, opening it up and carefully handing over the device with a frown before looking back into the bag.

“What’s this?”

Yoongi looked up in time to see Jimin pull something else from the bag, eyeing the small, rumpled brown paper, now covered in greasy marks. “Oh, shoot. Forgot that was in there.”

“What is it?” Jimin asked again, already looking inside the bag, a confused smile crossing his face when he saw the contents. “Is that a croissant?”

“It was,” Yoongi chuckled. “Probably more like a flaky pancake now.”

Jimin bit at his lip, a pretty pink dusting his cheeks. “From when I grabbed you.”

Yoongi chuckled again. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s still delicious,” he said as he took the squashed pastry and tore a piece off, popping it in his mouth. “Yep, still good. Shame you don’t eat breakfast.”

“It’s not breakfast time anymore,” Jimin pointed out, reaching to take a piece, but Yoongi leaned back in his seat holding it above his head and out of Jimin’s reach. “Hey! Let me try a bit! You bought it for me!”

“You said you didn’t want it. You refused my lovely gift.”

“No, I never! I said I didn’t eat breakfast and I wasn’t hungry, and now I am!” Jimin protested, leaning all the way over Yoongi, so close that his sternum was almost against Yoongi’s face as he snatched the bag away, ripping off a big chunk of the croissant and stuffing it into his mouth, laughter erupting from Yoongi.

“You look like a hamster!”

“Shu’ up,” Jimin muffled around the mouthful, hand hovered in front of his face as he attempted to chew the entirely too large quantity of food, made all the more difficult by the fact that he couldn’t stop giggling at the absurdity of what he had done.

The giggle turned to laughter that burst from him with such vibrancy as he finally swallowed that he stumbled back against the wall with it, arms wrapped around his middle and eyes creased shut.

The sight of it alone was enough to bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, picking up his camera from the desk and snapping a shot of the unfiltered, chaotic joy.

Park Jimin was definitely not what Yoongi had been expecting; but he couldn’t say that he didn’t like the surprise.

Chapter 3

Jimin smiled as he handed over his credit card, nervous about his choice but committed to it.

After a brief discussion with his office, it had been concluded that there was no reason he couldn’t write up his interview with Seokjin from the comfort of his hotel room, cashing in a few vacation days so that he could stay longer.

Dinner the night before had been a pleasant affair, made all the more amusing by the fact that Seokjin seemingly wasn’t joking when he had told Jimin he wanted to wrap him in a blanket and give him little things to eat, frequently scooping things onto a fork and holding them out for Jimin to taste.

Yoongi for his part had been quiet, sipping at the whisky he had ordered and picking at the food, Jimin taking the opportunity to tease him for not feeling like eating.

By the time the evening was over and Jimin was curling into the plush comfort of his bed, belly full and with a light buzzing sensation in his head from the wine he and Seokjin had enjoyed, he had already made the choice. He was going to stay and try again. He couldn’t imagine he would ever be the kind of person to parachute out of a plane, but he wanted to be able to stand on a rooftop and look out and see more than danger.

“Checking out without saying goodbye, Bambi?”

Jimin smiled, peering back over his shoulder. “Worried I was going to run off with your clothes?” he asked, pulling the coat tighter around himself and giving a playful twirl, making the man laugh.

“I could live without them if it meant you didn’t freeze to death on the way to the airport,” he said, grabbing at the front of the coat and zipping it up. “Suits you better than it does me anyway.”

The act felt a little too intimate, but most things Yoongi did were. Since the day they had met, he had dressed him, carried him, held him while he cried his eyes out; as mean as his words could be, he was always kind in his actions, like he didn’t understand the implication of them. Like it was a boundary that just didn’t exist in his mind. It was interesting.

“I actually decided to stay a little longer. I have a mountain to conquer,” he beamed, thanking the desk clerk as he handed his card back. “And a hot tub to soak in.”

Yoongi’s smile grew. “Quite the to-do list.”

Jimin bit at his lip, the look on his face shy and sweet. “Are you busy? I was hoping I could maybe ask you for help just once more.”

Yoongi cocked his head. “Well, I do enjoy a hot tub…” he teased, dodging Jimin when he attempted to swat at his arm. “I’m only joking, of course I don’t mind heading out. I’m going up in a minute actually to find Jin, so if you’re ready?”

“I’m never ready. Let’s go.”

Yoongi shook his head with a quiet chuckle as he followed Jimin out, cascading into laughter as Jimin skidded almost immediately out of the door and he caught him. “Okay, we need to get you some better shoes if we’re going to keep doing this.”

Jimin pouted, tipping his head back to look up at Yoongi from where he still hung awkwardly in his grasp. “Maybe you better go without me, and I’ll find a store. I don’t want to hold you up… again.”

“Nice try,” Yoongi smiled, setting Jimin back on his feet. “We go up, we come down, and then I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Yoongi gave his that look. The one that suggested he thought he was a moron. “Because I’m sure you would look adorable in a pair of fluffy white snow boots, but they aren’t what you need.”

Jimin huffed, arms crossed over his chest as the joined the queue. “I’m perfectly capable of asking the store assistant what shoes I need.”

“And he or she is perfectly capable of leading you to the most expensive brand, which is not necessarily the most efficient tool for the task,” Yoongi pointed out as they stepped forward, Jimin seemingly so focused on the bickering that he stepped out beside Yoongi, the seat tapping at the backs of his legs, and he sat without question.

“Why are you so insistent on thinking I’m a ditsy idiot? I have a phone. I can go online, and look up the brands, and read reviews and make a rational, independent choice on…” he trailed off, his mind catching up to his surroundings, gripping at the bar, too annoyed with Yoongi to rely on him for comfort.

Yoongi covered one of Jimin’s hands with his own, trying to draw his attention back. The minor argument wasn’t ideal, but it had been working before Jimin realised where he was. “Why can’t you ever just accept help with a ‘thank you’? I don’t think you’re an idiot, but you don’t know what you’re doing, and you even said as much the first time we talked,” he attempted, but it wasn’t working. Jimin’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was starting to pick up, just as it had done the day before.

It was time for a bold move. “Park Jimin, look at me,” he demanded, gripping Jimin’s face and turning it toward his own, Jimin’s eyes shooting open in surprise at the sudden move. “You are okay. Just look at me. Focus completely on me. Nothing else.”

And Jimin did, thankful for once for the freezing air that whipped at his face to blame for the flush on his cheeks. The longer he stared at those eyes, the more he felt like he could drown in the intensity of them. It was an insane thought, but he couldn’t help it. Yoongi was incredibly handsome.

“Do you want to get off?”

Jimin blinked at him, heart jumping into his throat. “What?”

Yoongi smiled, eyes flicking sideways. “We’re almost there. Are you getting off? Or do you want me to take you back down and come back up on my own?”

“Oh. Uh, I’ll come with you, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Makes no difference to me,” Yoongi shrugged, looking round fully and Jimin followed his gaze as an attendant stepped up and released the bar, Yoongi diligent as ever as he hopped down and held out a hand for Jimin to take. “Eyes open almost all the way that time. Looks like you’re getting the hang of it,” he praised, patting Jimin on the head with a teasing smile. “But I’m still coming with you to buy the shoes.”

Jimin shook his head with an exasperated eye roll. “It’s a lot faster to just admit that you love me and want to follow me everywhere I go.”

“I find you very tolerable,” Yoongi grinned, leading the way as they trailed upward, pausing to speak to someone that Jimin didn’t recognise and he hung back, watching as the people around him talked, and laughed, and strapped themselves into skis and onto boards, gliding gracefully away across the snow.

“We’re going to have to wait for a few; we just missed him, but he’ll be back up after his run,” Yoongi told him as he stepped back up to his side, following his eyes. “You want to give it a try?”

“What? No!” Jimin panicked, waving his hands. “I can’t even stand up in shoes, let alone on a board.”

“Okay, I’m hearing preference to the idea of a board,” Yoongi shrugged casually, flagging down the man he had just spoken to and pointing to Jimin. “Beginner! Board!” he called out, and Jimin felt the panic starting to rise.

“What are you doing?! I said no,” Jimin hissed urgently, looking around for some kind of escape, but the only viable option was the cable cars, and he was certain that he wouldn’t manage the journey down alone.

“Relax, Bambi. I’m not going to shove you down the slope,” Yoongi grinned as the man walked over and laid the board on the ground, starting to instruct Jimin who, just as Yoongi had expected, was too polite to tell him that he wasn’t interested, stood frozen on the board a few seconds later. “There you go, standing up, that’s a good start.”

Jimin glared at him. “If I die, I’m going to haunt you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, you’re not going to die. Bend your knees a bit and I’ll start you off.”

Jimin reluctantly did as he said, and Yoongi gave him a light push, the board starting to slide across the snow and Jimin’s arms shot out, trying to keep his balance and Yoongi lifted his camera, capturing the moment. “How do I stop?!”

“If you want to stop fast, check nobody is coming toward you, and then lean back,” Yoongi called out, snapping another picture and chuckling as Jimin did what he said, flopping backward onto the snow and just laying there, breathing hard as Yoongi walked over, leaning over his face and taking another picture. “Easy, right?”

“I hate you.”

Yoongi laughed, hand extended and pulling Jimin back upright. “No, you don’t. You’ll get it. I happen to know an exceptional boarder that can give you far better lessons than I can,” he smiled, looking back over his shoulder as the man in question glided toward them and slowed to a stop.

“Well, look at you! Top of the mountain and ready to hit a slope!”

“Maybe not quite yet,” Yoongi beamed. “But some day.”

Some day. Jimin quieted at the statement because just for a second, standing here, looking down toward the imaginary finish line, it didn’t feel impossible. It wasn’t never. It was some day.

A hand squeezed his shoulder, snapping him from his thoughts and his eyes met Yoongi’s, that already familiar quiet concern behind them. “Had enough for today?”

Jimin considered the question, looking down the slope and across at Seokjin and down at his own feet and the board they were stood upon. “Maybe… maybe one more try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Seokjin cheered, Yoongi stepping back as the professional started to give instructions, positioning Jimin and mirroring what he was doing, showing him how to move on his own, making small turns and coming to a far more natural stop, Jimin just as wobbly as he had been but a smile breaking through here and there and Yoongi started to take pictures. None of them would be any good for the magazine, but that didn’t matter.

This was what he would have loved to have done when he decided to become a photographer; capture real, organic moments as they happened. The kinds of pictures that carried memories and emotions. The kind that would be framed and cherished and shown to loved ones in years to come with an embellished story.

He hoped one day, Jimin would show the pictures to his own family and tell them about the time he trained on a mountain side in France with the Kim Seokjin and conquered his fear of heights. He hoped Jimin would remember his name when the story was told; to leave his mark on the joy of it all.

He hoped that it would make Jimin brave enough to reach higher, and that for just a little while longer, he would be there to see it.

 

~*~

 

As always, Yoongi’s hand extended when they climbed off the cable car, holding Jimin steady as they stepped away. “Doing okay today?”

“Yeah, fine, just aching,” Jimin smiled, releasing him and shuffling slowly along the path. “I think perhaps I’ll skip the shopping for today; I’ve been so tense all morning I am absolutely ready to just lay in the hot tub and melt.”

“Maybe I should book it some time,” Yoongi mused as they walked inside, striding straight to the elevator as usual. “Been a while since I last had a day off.”

“Jin doesn’t exactly make it easy for you,” Jimin giggled. He had eventually grown exhausted of trying to stay upright, sitting in the snow and watching as Yoongi attempted to take pictures while Seokjin slid around, talking to fans, and deliberately spraying snow at Yoongi and laughing wildly as he circled him.

“He’s impossible; wouldn’t have him any other way though.”

They stepped onto their floor, each digging in their pockets for their key cards and Jimin tugged at Yoongi’s sleeve before he could step away to his room. “Yoongi… I booked it out for an hour, and maybe… if you want…”

Yoongi smiled, petting Jimin’s head. “You’re adorable. If you want me to go with you, just ask me to go with you. It’s not a big deal.”

Jimin couldn’t disagree more. It was a big deal. The tubs were a reasonable size, but one leg over extended could easily brush another and his touch-starved brain was already betraying him at the thought. This was a bad idea, and a good one, and exciting and terrifying and- “Go with me.”

“Give me a few minutes to put my stuff away, and I’ll be right with you. Only if you don’t mind though, I don’t want to intrude if you just want to relax.”

“I wouldn’t invite you if I wanted to be on my own.”

Yoongi hummed. “No, that isn’t true. You’re the people-pleasing type, and you feel like you owe me. You don’t, by the way,” he added. “Because I am not the people-anything type, so when I offer help, it’s because I want to, not because I’m trying to make someone else happy.”

“I don’t think that’s true either,” Jimin disagreed. “I think you like helping people, but it makes you uncomfortable so you avoid it when you can. You couldn’t avoid me because we had a job to do, and once you let me in…” he chewed over his words for a moment, not wanting to offend, only to explain. “You knew that I needed help, and you gave it, and you like to see a job well done. It makes you happy.”

Yoongi didn’t even know how to respond, the words cutting a little too close to home, finally saying the one thing he knew to be true. “You’re not a job.”

“I know,” Jimin smiled, backing up toward his door. “Meet you here in ten?”

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Jimin swiped the card through the lock, opening the door but hesitating for a moment longer. “Hey, Yoongi,” he called over his shoulder, Yoongi pausing in the doorway of his own room and leaning back out. “I invited you because I like your company, not because I feel like I owe you anything.”

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a smile, looking almost shy for a moment. “Good to know. See you in a minute.”

 

~*~

 

Jimin didn’t expect Yoongi to be some blushing wallflower, but neither did he expect him to stroll into the small room like it was a part of his own home and discard his robe without so much as a second thought, and it was impossible not to stare.

He knew that Yoongi was broad but the visual of his chest and shoulders was certainly something and he scrambled to follow him into the water, worried about what his body might do if he just carried on standing there.

It didn’t help.

He was pressed up hard against the side, jets bubbling up against his thighs and no matter how he shifted he couldn’t escape it.

“Jimin, are you alright? You look like you’ve stopped breathing.”

Jimin shifted again, forcing himself to relax, but it was short lived as the motion caused his legs to part and the warm jet rose up between them, worsening the growing issue, his voice too high pitched when he spoke again. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Yoongi frowned, moving through the water and Jimin pressed himself back against the side hard, like it might magically move because he willed it to and create a bigger space between them, flinching when Yoongi’s hand rested against his face. “You’re really flushed. Is it too hot?”

That was one way of putting it.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should get you out just for a minute so you can cool off and turn the temperature down a bit; it wouldn’t be good if you passed out. Come on, let me-”

“No!” Jimin yelped, skittering awkwardly through the water as Yoongi reached for him again, embarrassment causing tears to start building in his eyes, Yoongi hands raised in surrender, looking alarmed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable; I was just trying to help. I’ll go.”

“No- you- I’m sorry,” Jimin whimpered out, head dipped and gripped with shame. He should explain. He had to. He didn’t want Yoongi walking away thinking he did something wrong and ruining a perfectly wonderful day. “It’s me. Not you. I’m…”

He trailed off as Yoongi stood up, reaching for one of the towels, and his lips carried on moving without his permission. “Wow.” He immediately threw his hands over his mouth, eyes on Yoongi’s, mortified by the reaction to the very visible outline of a very solid shape in Yoongi’s shorts.

Yoongi looked down, putting the pieces together and laughing quietly as he moved the towel in front of himself to hide it. “Sorry about that. The jets feel pretty good,” he explained with a light shrug and Jimin exploded with laughter at just how ludicrous the situation was, pushing onto his feet and biting his bottom lip as Yoongi looked him over, cocking his head for a second before he looked back up. “Is that what all the fuss was about?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a creep. I’m really sorry, please, don’t go.”

Yoongi laughed, sinking back down into the warmth, his eyes darkened as Jimin followed him, the space between them far smaller than it had been. “I don’t know if I can let you off the hook for that ‘wow’ comment just yet.”

Jimin groaned, flicking water at Yoongi’s face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t; you like at least one bit of me,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows and Jimin splashed more viciously in the water.

“You’re awful. You had to have one redeeming feature.”

“And you’re annoying.”

Jimin waited for the follow up, but it never came, mouth falling open in disbelief. “That’s it? No redeeming qualities at all?!”

Yoongi hummed, swiping the moisture from his face back into his hair and Jimin wanted to kick him; it was entirely unfair that he could turn the attack into another opportunity to look like complete perfection. “Maybe if we get a few more croissants in you. Still too skinny.”

Jimin huffed, standing up again, embarrassment forgotten. “I am not skinny. I am lean, and it looks damn good!” he protested, purposefully flexing his muscles, Yoongi’s eyes raking over him, but he was too stubborn to back down now. “And I’m really flexible. Never had any complaints about that.”

“How flexible?”

“Very,” Jimin said, dropping back down into the tub and poking his feet out of the water. “Grab my ankles.”

“Kinky.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Just do it,” he commanded, waiting until Yoongi followed the instruction, ignoring the fact that those hands were big enough to completely surround the slender joints. “Okay, now push them up toward my shoulders.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m that flexible,” Jimin replied, a touch of satisfaction at the look on Yoongi’s face as he started to push, Jimin easily sitting into the bend until he felt his legs touch against his shoulders. “Told you.”

Yoongi didn’t reply. Didn’t tease. Too close and not close enough in the compromising position, eyes searching for a few seconds too long before he backed up, lowering Jimin’s legs, seeming to come back to his senses but his voice was different when he finally spoke, the teasing tone lost to something Jimin couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Okay, you win. That’s a pretty impressive skill.”

Silence descended on the room, almost claustrophobic, like a live wire hanging just above the water and one wrong move would electrocute them both, Yoongi eventually sliding back and putting distance between them again. “We should have that drink.”

“We haven’t had lunch.”

A smile started on Yoongi’s face, growing wider as he absorbed just what Jimin had said. “I meant tonight, but it’s our day off, right? Nothing to stop us having a glass or two over lunch.”

Jimin was silent, staring at him for a long moment before he finally nodded. “Okay. But we have an agreement.”

“Agreement?”

A smile finally crept back onto Jimin’s face, the tension seeming to fade. “I’ll pay. You bring some lyrics for me to read.”

Yoongi hummed, reaching for the towels again but purposefully turning his back to Jimin before he stood up, wrapping one loosely around himself before holding the second out. “We double down. You make me a list of your fears.”

The silence fell again, Jimin looking unsure at the request before he finally stood, holding the towel in front of himself. “No teasing.”

“That’s a big ask, Bambi.”

For a moment, it looked like Jimin would argue again, but his mouth opened and closed, and he finally stepped out of the water. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled before vanishing, Yoongi left to scramble out after him, but Jimin was already locked inside the changing room again, leaving him with only two options: get dressed and let it drop, or stand outside the door and wait.

The choice wasn’t really a choice at all.

A minute passed. Then five. Then ten.

Jimin had hardly been overdressed when they first came down, wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, sweater and jeans. Even if he was really thorough about drying himself off, it shouldn’t have taken him this long to get dressed and come back out and he started to worry again, tapping at the door and calling out, but getting no response.

Was he upset? Angry? Conscious?

He started into his own dressing room, damp hands digging around in his pockets and fishing out his key card, pressing it into the safety mechanism of the privacy lock and twisting, hearing the click and immediately pushing open the door, freezing at the sight.

Two more choices.

Step inside and offer to help or leave.

Chapter 4

Jimin was relatively certain he was going to throw up, eyes locked onto Yoongi’s and so mortified that he couldn’t even make himself move for long enough to cover his shame, his breathing so shallow that he started to feel dizzy with it.

He had no idea what had possessed him to do this here and now, when he could have just as easily grabbed his clothes and retreated to his room and taken his time in the comfort of a shower or lying against soft sheets. Anything but this. Anything but Yoongi staring at him as he stood bare as the day he was born with his hand tight around himself on the edge of completion but with too much paralysing fear to move.

Fear. That was what it always came back to. This whole trip, short as it may have been so far had been ruled by it, and he was furious with himself for it. He was done with it. He needed to accelerate; the inevitable crash be damned.

“Either kiss me or leave.”

Yoongi choked on thin air, eyes wide at the demand. “You… what?”

“You heard me. Kiss me or get out.”

He had no idea what he was doing. No idea what had possessed him to even ask for it, but he was too worked up to care. He needed something. Anything. He didn’t care if that was being fucked against a wall or left to a fantasy of it, the seconds stretching for a lifetime as he waited for a response and tightening his hand just slightly, body jolting with the action, wanting and not wanting and terrified, but he felt alive.

Yoongi’s hands twitched beside him for a split second before there was a flurry of movement and then-

He was gone.

Jimin dropped back against the wall, alone and angry and tears started to roll down his face, frustrated by his want and hurt by the rejection. He had accelerated. Hard.

This was the crash.

 

~*~

 

Yoongi couldn’t stop pacing. Couldn’t shake the image of Jimin standing there out of his head.

He could have just stepped inside. He could have kissed him. Part of him wanted to; Jimin was beautiful. But panic had hit him so hard that he had run with nothing but the towel around his waist and the key card to his room and now he had no idea what to do.

Should he go back and see if Jimin was still there? Try and talk to him? What would he even say if he did?

I’m sorry I ran. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you.

I like you more than I think I should.

It was ridiculous.

He flopped down onto the bed, arm folded over his face, trying to figure out the next step. They were both here until the end of the week, he couldn’t just leave things as they were. At the very least, he needed to make sure that Jimin was alright.

He flipped so fast. One minute he was upset and embarrassed, the next they were enjoying playful banter, then he looked like the world was crumbling around him.

And then Yoongi had opened that damn door. If he could just rewind time twenty minutes, he would have dressed, and waited, and gone with Jimin to lunch with a promise that he wouldn’t tease him for his fears. He would have shown him a song or two and waved off whatever he had to say about them.

He was disturbed from the thought by an odd sound; a kind of scraping that had him sitting up, eyes roaming over the room, trying to identify what he had heard, his gaze finally falling on a flash of white by the door and he wandered toward it.

A sheet of paper folded and plain. A note, perhaps?

He reached for it, carrying it back to the desk, filled with curiosity as he settled into the chair and opened it up, reading over the contents.

 

               A list of things I don’t want to be scared of anymore.

• Heights / flying
• The sea / ocean
• Spiders / snakes
• Needles / hospitals
• Love
• Myself

Keep the drink. PJM.

 

It was short. Concise. It made Yoongi’s heart ache. The first few were perfectly normal, everyday phobias that most of the population could say they shared. But love? Himself? What did Jimin have to be afraid of when it came to himself?

And then there was the sign off. Keep the drink.

He needed to make a choice and he needed to make it now. Jimin was declaring a separation between them, and he wasn’t ready for it.

He scrambled through the draws, finding a battered notebook and tore out a page. It felt incredibly high school to pass notes, but if it kept them talking, then it would have to do for now.

 

~*~

 

Jimin watched as the paper slipped under the door in front of him, half tempted to open it and beg Yoongi for forgiveness for how he had acted, but he couldn’t face him. Not yet. He had gone too far, and then exposed too much, and a part of him wanted to rebook his flight and disappear in the middle of the night and hope that he never saw Min Yoongi ever again.

But he didn’t want it to be over.

It had only been a few days, but he felt like a different person. He wanted to be here. He wanted to do more. He wanted Yoongi to be there to see it.

He swept up the scruffy sheet, eyes roaming over the clearly rushed scrawling, half expecting a message to say that he was crazy. But that wasn’t what was staring back at him.

This was the one; the song Seokjin liked. The one that had given him courage. The lyrics were far from what he had been expecting.

It was blindingly apparent that Seokjin had taken what he needed from it and carried the rest. They weren’t just words; they were a heart on a page. They were a fierce declaration. Anger. Fear. Hope.

They were Yoongi, but not as Jimin knew him.

He folded the paper up carefully, looking around the room. He had intended to spend the rest of the day right where he was, ordering room service and avoiding seeing anyone, but he was already restless. He stayed so he could do more. Be more. He could curl up in bed at home.

He concluded that perhaps now was the perfect time to take a cab into town, have a look around for a few things that would make him more comfortable out in the snow, and then he could spend the evening doing some research on what was available and go back in the morning to make his purchases.

It would give him the space he needed, and he could show Yoongi that he wasn’t just some dumb airhead that stripped naked and demanded attention in changing rooms.

His cheeks burned at the thought, made all the worse as his feet slipped into shoes that were not his own and he pulled on the blue coat, surrounded by a smell that was already too familiar and he almost ripped it right back off his body.

But he couldn’t; he needed it. It felt like the armour he needed to go forward. It was almost pathetic how much it felt like safety. How much it felt like arms around him telling him that he wasn’t going to fall.

He grabbed his bag before he could second guess himself, throwing his key card, wallet and phone inside, peering out into the hall and emerging once he saw the coast was clear. He was going to do something, and when he got back, he would do so with coffee, and croissants, and hope that Yoongi was willing to forget about the disaster of the morning.

 

~*~

 

The town he had passed on the way to the resort was small, and quaint; most of the stores independently run and their keepers friendly. The language barrier was a little tricky, but he knew enough English to get by as many of the locals seemed to be fairly fluent; no doubt as a result of seeing so many tourists.

He wandered for a long while, the sun starting to set as he reached the end of the final street, fingers growing sore from the bags he carried. He hadn’t bought much, but the cold was seeping into them, and he looked around for somewhere to warm up and order a cab back when his eyes fell on a small store that sparked his curiosity.

The exterior was painted in black gloss, lettering above the door in a pretty golden font that he assumed was a name. What he did recognise was the word ‘tattoo’.

He wandered toward the window, close enough to peer inside but without being too noticeable, his mind on the note that had been burning a hole in his pocket all afternoon.

He fished it out, gloves and chilled fingertips making unfolding it difficult. So many of the words felt true. Felt like a story he wanted to carry. Would remind him, for the rest of his life, that this serendipitous trip had motivated him to do more than he ever had done before. He still had more to do, but he was proud.

He stared down at the paper in his hands, reading the words over and over again, sucking in a lungful of the freezing air before stepping into the shop, his eyes meeting those of a woman perched comfortably across a small leather sofa just inside the door. “I want a tattoo,” he declared before he could talk himself out of it.

“You’re in the right place. What are you after?”

Jimin swallowed hard, eyes travelling over the walls again, the twisting, beautiful artworks that hung there; that people had imprinted on their skin for the rest of their lives. He had never wanted one, and it had nothing to do with his fear of needles; he just never felt strongly enough about anything to carry it with him for the rest of his life. Until now.

It’s not easy but engrave it on your chest.

“Never Mind.”

The artist blinked at him and Jimin realised how what he had said sounded. “Those are the words I want. Right here,” he went on, pointing to one side of his chest. He was terrified but some part of him knew he wouldn’t regret it. That he would see it, every day, and it would remind him to live.

The artist smiled at him, indicating a door to the right. “No problem. Come on through and we’ll pick a font, and size and get you all set up. First time?”

Jimin smiled nervously. “Yeah. I have a thing about needles so forgive me if I start crying,” he replied, half mocking himself, but the artist just smiled all the wider, opening up a folder full of different lettering.

“We can take breaks if you need them, not to worry. The way the guns are set up you never actually see the needle though, so it’s not the same as doing a blood draw; it just feels scratchy,” she explained. “Now, are we thinking simple? Scrolling?”

Jimin looked down at the pages, chewing at his lip, nothing quite fitting the larger idea of the song trapped inside his mind. “Do you have anything more…” he trailed off, looking for the right word but unable to summon it, finally settling on the closest thing he could think of that didn’t sound wrong. “Torn?”

The artist lifted the folder from the table, flicking through the pages of fonts but looking dissatisfied with each one. “Give me a few minutes…” she said, discarding the folder on her desk and pulling a few pens and a sheet of paper from a draw instead, working wildly over the page until a few letters were complete, tweaking each one of them until she was apparently satisfied and holding it out to Jimin. “Something like this?”

The letters were scratchy, jagged, raw. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, he was naked from the waist up, a printed version glowing purple against his skin as he looked in a mirror, taking a single long deep breath. Was this weird? It was probably weird. Yoongi would think it was weird.

“Too big?” the artist enquired, worried by the hesitation. “I can resize it and adjust the placement as many times as you want, or we can start over if it’s not what you pictured.”

It was big, but that was what he wanted. Something bold. A statement.

He liked it. Not everything was about Min Yoongi. “It’s good. Perfect.”

“Sure?” she checked again and Jimin nodded. “Okay, hop up on the seat for me and let’s get this show on the road.”

If he didn’t like it later… never mind.

 

~*~

 

Hours. It had been hours.

Yoongi had knocked on Jimin’s door around half an hour after sliding the lyrics underneath it, with no idea what he was going to say but wanting to try and smooth away the tension. Perhaps suggest they get the drink regardless.

He had tried a few times, getting no answer and eventually started to wander the resort, checking the pool and saunas, the gym and café, even the restaurant and bar, but he was nowhere to be found.

His feet eventually carried him to the front desk, asking if anyone had seen his ‘friend’ head out, giving Jimin’s description and the woman had smiled at him. “You mean Mr Park? He took a cab a little while ago, but it wasn’t one of ours so I’m afraid I don’t know where he was headed.”

He smiled, playing off his worry. “Good memory. You mind if I hang out down here a while and wait for him?”

“Of course. The check in area can get a little noisy, but the seating’s comfortable,” she smiled, directing him toward the area. “I can ask someone to fetch you a drink, if you’d like?”

“Oh, thank you, no. I’ll be alright for now.”

He was starting to regret saying no. He was getting tired and hungry, but after so long, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to be exactly where he was. He could wait.

“You look lost, kitty.”

Yoongi sighed. He was in no mood for Seokjin, but he also wasn’t willing to leave the lobby until Jimin had come back. He had no idea what would happen when he did, but something needed to happen. Perhaps he could offer an apology dinner for running off like a scared rabbit.

“Oh dear,” Seokjin murmured, taking up the seat beside Yoongi, hand rested gently on his arm. For as wild as the man could be, there was a softness to him when it was needed, and while Yoongi didn’t want to talk about everything that had gone on, he was grateful for the calming company. “Jimin?”

He nodded, eyes still on the door. It had been so long, and he was starting to feel like he was losing his mind. For all he knew, Jimin had already left and wouldn’t be coming back at all. And what then? Chase him back to the airport? All the way back to Seoul?

And for what? He had no idea what he wanted to say. No idea why he wanted to say anything at all. But everything felt wrong. Unfinished.

“Never seen you go down so hard. You see something special in him.”

He did. He couldn’t explain what or why, but he did think Jimin was special. Which was insane. They had known each other three days. Just three.

“He sees it in you, too. Sees what you can’t see in yourself.”

Yoongi frowned. “There’s nothing special about me.”

Seokjin hummed. “He probably thinks the same thing. Doesn’t make it true.” He rubbed a hand across Yoongi’s back, pulling back up and stretching out, continuing his wander toward the doors but not before looking back over his shoulder. “Perhaps someone should tell him how special he is.”

 

~*~

 

It was dark out by the time Jimin wandered back into the lobby of the resort, ribs sore and cold to the bone, wanting for nothing more than a hot bath but he couldn’t have one, not for a few days at least. He would have to settle for a hot chocolate and a duvet in front of the TV.

“Mr Park?”

Jimin paused, looking back over his shoulder at the man who had called his name as he stepped out from behind the check in desk. “Sorry to bother you sir, I was asked to look out for you and pass along a message.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

The man smiled, looking past Jimin. “Mr Kim, he wanted me to tell you to wake Mr Min when you got back and tell him to go to bed.”

Jimin frowned, following the man’s gaze until he spotted Yoongi, curled up in one of the armchairs. “How long has he been there?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say for sure, but I’ve been on shift since four, and he’s been there the whole time.”

It was almost nine. Five hours, and probably longer, Yoongi had been in that chair and Jimin could only assume that he was the cause of it, especially as Seokjin had seen fit to leave a message for him. He thanked the attendant, creeping over and crouching in front of Yoongi, biting back a hiss as the action made his clothes rub against his body. “Yoongi? Wake up,” he called softly, not wanting to touch him with his hands being so cold.

Yoongi stirred, not fully waking but enough for his nose to scrunch and eyelashes to flutter for a second before he relaxed back again and Jimin called a little louder, but the same thing happened.

He chewed at his lip for a moment. He wanted to make things right, and up until now, a little teasing had been their ‘thing’. He pulled off his gloves, leaning forward and pressing the frozen pads to the man’s cheek, giggling when he jolted awake, confused and blinking wildly at the touch. “You’re a heavy sleeper.

“Jimin?”

Jimin hummed, straightening himself up. “You’ll ruin your neck sleeping there.”

“I think I already have,” Yoongi complained, tipping his head from side to side and wincing at the ache, though he honestly couldn’t have cared any less about it. Jimin was here. They were talking. It wasn’t awkward.

“Hot shower should do the trick. Come on,” Jimin invited, holding out his hand, just as pleased that for now at least, the conversation was comfortable. The rest could wait, or even better: be ignored and laughed about years later.

Yoongi took his hand, shocked by the cold but dismissing it, far more concerned with the way Jimin flinched as he pulled him up and his hand hovered at his side. “Are you hurt?”

“Not exactly.”

Yoongi’s frown deepened at the response. “What does that even mean? Either you’re hurt or you’re not hurt.”

“I didn’t get hurt, but it’s sore. Don’t worry about it,” he tried to wave off, starting the walk toward the elevator, but Yoongi quickly caught up, pulling softly at his sleeve.

“Did you fall?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, leading Yoongi into the elevator as the doors opened. “No, I didn’t fall. It’s nothing, really,” he insisted as they were delivered to their floor, stepping out into the now familiar corridor. “Go and get your shower before your neck starts to seize up.”

“Please, tell me what happened. I won’t make fun of you, I promise,” Yoongi pleaded, and Jimin couldn’t help thinking how sweet the worry was.

“Oh, I think you will…”

“Try me.”

Jimin hesitated a moment longer before pushing open the door of his room, beckoning Yoongi inside and dropping the coat onto the end of the bed. “I uh… I tackled one of my fears while I was out,” he started, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pausing. “You really promise not to make fun of me?”

“I swear.”

Jimin took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and pulled the shirt up, revealing the wrap that was taped over the tattoo, watching Yoongi with wary eyes. This had the potential to throw them back into the awkwardness. It had the potential to leave Yoongi with another impression of Jimin that made him look insane. “Well?”

Yoongi stepped forward, fingers hovering in front of the words before he seemed to remember himself, pulling his hand back. “Is that real?”

“I sure hope so, if it washes off then I want to know why it stung so much,” Jimin half joked. “At least if it starts hurting too bad, I’m in the perfect place to grab some ice.”

Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head, still completely speechless at the choice of words imprinted on Jimin’s skin. Not just that. The jagged lettering suited the feeling of it, and it was right there on his chest. Permanent. “It looks amazing.”

“You really think so? Or are you just being nice because I made you promise?”

Yoongi’s eyes found Jimin’s, seeing the worry that hung behind them. “I mean it. I couldn’t have written it better myself,” he smiled. “And it suits you. The new you.”

“New me?”

Yoongi smiled wider, closing the space again. “Yeah. The you that’s going to climb a mountain, and then conquer the whole world. But first there’s something I have to know…” he reached out, setting his hand carefully against the space just below the tattoo.

“What is it?”

He sounded ridiculous. Too breathy. Too hopeful. He had to stop. But he didn’t want to. It was insanity; that was the only word for it. Days. It had been just days and yet this man felt like home.

“Will you still get that drink with me?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know what comes next.”

Notes:

Hey y'all - if you follow me on Twitter then you already know, but if you don't: I just had a baby!

Will do my best to keep up with the posting, but tiny people tend to keep their mama's busy, so if I skip a week, be kind!

Have a great day, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

-QL x

Chapter 5

As it turned out, Min Yoongi was a very different human being when he was drunk. He still teased, and dropped the occasional innuendo, and said things that could easy cause offence if you didn’t know him well; but he was also adorable.

They had contemplated dinner, but decided that they would just grab a few bar snacks instead, and before they knew it, one drink had become two, then three, and somewhere after the fifth, Jimin had stopped counting though he knew Yoongi was a long way ahead of him, laughing wildly at the way Yoongi had stumbled off his stool to greet Seokjin when he walked in, and he was now half sat in the man’s lap babbling on about Jimin’s new tattoo.

“He’s so brave,” Yoongi beamed, leaning over Seokjin and squashing Jimin’s face between his hands. “You’re so brave.”

“Just brave?” Seokjin prompted casually, leaning over Yoongi’s back to pick up his own drink, seemingly unphased by the behaviour and Jimin wondered just how long they had known each other. They were almost like brothers; it was sweet.

“No, not just brave!” Yoongi announced, almost knocking the drink from Seokjin’s hand as he sat up. “He’s clever too, and very pretty.”

Pretty. Yoongi thought he was pretty. Well, drunk Yoongi thought he was pretty, anyway. “I think you need to go to bed.”

Yoongi giggled. Giggled.

“Hyungie, he wants to take me to bed,” he whispered loudly, grabbing Seokjin’s arm and rocking back and forth, as excited as a child told they were going to Disneyland and Jimin had never wanted to baby a grown man more than he did right now.

“Best you get going then,” Seokjin laughed, looking back to Jimin and lowering his voice. “Can you manage him? He’ll be asleep in minutes if you can get him back to his room.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Jimin smiled, surprisingly steady on his feet as he got up. His head was definitely buzzing, but he was confident he could get them up one floor and throw a blanket over Yoongi without too much trouble. “Come on you, bedtime,” he cooed, laughing when Yoongi draped himself over Jimin’s back, waddling oddly along behind him.

“My special, special Jiminie,” he grinned as he followed Jimin into the elevator, wobbling as it started to move and Jimin turned sharply to make sure he wouldn’t fall, hissing at the soreness the twisting of his skin caused.

Yoongi’s eyes widened, one hand leaned hard against the wall, inadvertently caging Jimin against the doors. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m alright. Just a little sore still. It’s okay,” Jimin soothed, forcing a smile as the doors at his back opened and he carefully pulled Yoongi out onto their floor. “Where’s your key?”

Yoongi frowned, eyes scanning the ground around his feet. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to check your pockets and try to find it, okay?” Jimin explained, hands hovering by Yoongi’s jacket until he nodded, and he commenced his search, finding his wallet first and putting it back, the second pocket empty, taking a deep breath and pointing at Yoongi’s jeans. “I need to check your other pockets.”

Yoongi started grinning like an idiot, hands on his hips as he tipped his pelvis forward and started swaying on the spot, Jimin damning all the world for how much he wanted to grab that waistband and drag him into his own room because he could not get out of his head what he had seen in the hot tub that morning.

He slid his hand into the first pocket, finding Yoongi’s phone, the screen lighting up as he held it, and Yoongi’s eyes became soft and dreamy as he looked down at it. “You’re so pretty.”

Jimin hesitated at the remark, following Yoongi’s eyes toward the glow, seeing his own face smiling back at him, a zoomed in image of when he had been on the snowboard that morning. “I’m your lock screen?”

“So pretty,” Yoongi repeated, taking the phone and holding it close to his chest, eyes closed, and for a moment Jimin completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Why am I…” he shook his head. This was not a conversation to have with someone that looked like he was about to lay down in the corridor to sleep it off, and Jimin had no chance of moving him if he did, quickly checking the other pocket and finally finding the card. “Come on, come and get into bed.”

Yoongi giggled again as Jimin directed him through the door, barely getting him to the bed before he dropped, catching himself from falling on top of him and laughing at the cliché it had almost become, setting about removing his boots, Yoongi humming contentedly to himself. “My Jiminie, Jiminie, Jimine… he wants to see me naked…”

Jimin bit hard at his cheeks to stop himself from laughing at the sing-song voice. “Not tonight, handsome. Tonight, we are getting you out of your boots and jeans, and you are getting some proper sleep.”

“No…” Yoongi whined, flailing with the bottom on his t-shirt but only managing to pull it up slightly, Jimin slapping lightly at his hands.

“Behave yourself,” he scolded lightly, not sure if he was talking to Yoongi or himself as he unbuttoned his jeans and started to tug them off, determined not to look at his crotch in any capacity.

It took longer than it needed to with Yoongi kicking his feet and trying to stroke Jimin’s face and overall being the incarnation of trying to put a cat in a bath; but Jimin finally managed to get him under the duvet, panting from the effort. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No, no, don’t go,” Yoongi whined, rolling onto his side and peering up at Jimin with probably the saddest eyes Jimin had ever seen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run away.”

Oh. They were doing this now.

“It’s alright, I’m not mad. It’s my fault for being so impulsive. We can talk about it in the morning,” he soothed, but Yoongi’s hand was still outstretched, looking more upset by the second and Jimin gravitated back toward him, perching on the edge of the bed, smiling at the way Yoongi shuffled over to lay against his thigh.

“Don’t go. I like you.”

“I like you too. How about if I stay while you fall asleep?”

Yoongi made a pitiful little noise, rolling further onto Jimin’s lap and wrapping his arms around his middle. “No. Stay here. I don’t want you to leave.”

Jimin swallowed hard. Yoongi was very drunk. He had to be sensible about this, but he also didn’t want to shatter what they had so easily rebuilt by refusing and walking out. It didn’t have to be a big deal. He could sleep next to Yoongi for one night, and if he was upset about it in the morning, he could explain easily enough. “Okay. Budge over.”

It took a few minutes, but he managed to disconnect Yoongi from his body long enough to kick out of his shoes and pull off his jeans, leaving the rest of his clothes on. He generally preferred to sleep in his underwear, but between the situation he was in, and the new tattoo, it felt safer to hold on to the extra layer.

No sooner was he laid back against the pillow, Yoongi was next to him; too close and not close enough, eyes wide in the lamplight. “Jiminie… can I still kiss you?”

God, how he wanted to say yes. But he couldn’t. “Not tonight. You can kiss me in the morning, if you still want to.”

“Jiminie… don’t be scared of love. It’s wonderful.”

That one stung, but he let it slide. The list he’d handed over was an honest one but contained no explanation. Some of it was perfectly normal; who in the right mind would be okay with a spider running up their leg? But the later fears; Yoongi couldn’t know that he’d had his heart broken before or how long it had taken to heal. He couldn’t know that he still lay awake some nights wondering if it was his fault.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right kind of love yet,” he murmured, half talking to himself. “Have you ever been in love?”

He tipped his head to the side, seeing Yoongi calm and sleepy beside him, eyes closed with a small smile on his face. “I’m not sure yet…”

The response made Jimin’s heart flutter in a most unreasonable way, fussing with the blankets again and stroking at Yoongi’s hair; he really was very endearing when he was drunk and within minutes, just as Seokjin had said, he was snoring softly against Jimin’s face.

He lay awake for a long while after that just watching him sleep, letting the day play back in his mind. So much happened in such a small amount of time. Going back up the mountain, trying out the snowboard, the hot tub and ensuring incident. They had passed notes like nervous children, and he had pulled away, but Yoongi had waited. Literally waited for hours.

And they had fallen back together so easily that he could have believed they had known each other all their lives. It just felt so normal to be together.

“Sleep well, Min Yoongi,” he whispered, shifting just enough to turn off the lights beside the bed, leaving only one still glowing on the far side of the room. “Dream of me.”

I’ll be dreaming of you.

 

~*~

 

Yoongi was fairly certain his head was going to explode. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and he could already tell it was going to be a bad day, cursing quietly to himself as he rolled over, and he froze. There was a warmth beside him. A person. “Oh, fuck…”

He blinked his eyes open, confirming what he already suspected.

Jimin. Sweet, beautiful Jimin. Jimin, who had carved his words into his flawless body. Jimin, who looked like a goddamn angel sleeping beside him with his fingers tangled around the pillowcase, hair fluffed up like a chick and Yoongi swallowed hard, lifting the duvet and peering underneath.

“Oh, thank god.”

T-shirts and underwear. Good news.

He dropped the blanket as Jimin stirred beside him backing up just slightly, so they weren’t so close as Jimin rolled onto his side, rubbing at his eyes, blinking and looking confused for a moment before he smiled. “Oh… hey.”

“Hey. You okay?”

Jimin’s smile widened. “Are you? You really put those drinks away last night, I don’t know how you didn’t spend all evening throwing up; I would have been a mess if I’d kept up.”

Yoongi could feel his cheeks turning red. “Yeah… I guess I get a little carried away sometimes.”

Jimin didn’t reply, just stretching himself out and wincing as it pulled at his tattoo, lifting the duvet and pulling up his shirt to look at it. He had forgotten to take the wrapping off the night before, so it just looked like a blackened smudge. “I should clean this up. I’ll make coffee in in a minute.”

Yoongi watched as Jimin slid out of bed, rummaging in the pockets of his coat, and pulling out what he assumed to be a tube of some kind of protective cream before he disappeared into the bathroom, scrambling for his phone as soon as he was alone, the room still lightly spinning around him as he pulled up Seokjin’s number and hit the call button.

Immediate regret.

“Good morning, sunshine! Is someone feeling a little silly this morning?”

“What did I do?”

“Why, what did he say?”

“Jinnie…” Yoongi whined quietly, forcing himself out of the bed and over to the small fridge, digging for a bottle of water to try and clear his head.

“You were cute as a kitten, you’ll be fine. Did he sleep over?”

Yoongi groaned and Seokjin laughed so loudly that he had to hold the phone away from his head. “Nothing happened. He just stayed to make sure I didn’t die in the night.”

“If you say so. I have to go, but you have a good day with your… what was it? Oh, yes. Brave, clever, pretty Jiminie. See you tonight!”

The line went dead, and Yoongi wondered if it was possible to slam his head into the wall hard enough to knock himself unconscious for the rest of the trip, made worse by the click of the bathroom door and Jimin stepping out in nothing but his underwear, holding out the tube of cream. “Can you just put a bit on the side there? I can’t quite reach the end.”

Torture. He was being tortured. He had to be.

He dabbed the cream lightly into place, trying hard not to think about how close he was to Jimin’s barely covered body and quickly passing the tube back. “Okay, unleash the teasing,” he grumbled, slumping into the seat at the desk. “But do it quietly. I feel like my head is going to split in half.”

“Why would I tease you?”

“Because I ramble like an idiot when I’m drinking, and I’m sure I either said or did something incredibly stupid. Revenge is yours, Park Jimin; take your shot.”

Jimin smiled, quiet for a moment as he set about making their coffee, throwing his t-shirt back on while he waited for the small kettle to heat up. “You were sweet. It was fine.”

“Sweet?”

“Yeah,” Jimin shrugged, stirring the drinks, and lifting one of the mugs, holding it out carefully for Yoongi to take. “You talked a lot, but didn’t really say anything weird, and when we came up, you asked if I would stay with you, and I did. Like I said, it was fine.”

Yoongi bit at his lip. “Oh… well, thanks, I guess. For staying. You didn’t have to.”

Jimin had been determined to be kind about the night before, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “I know, but why would I go when I had the chance to listen to you giggling.”

Yoongi groaned, sinking further down into the chair, half hiding behind the mug in his hands. “Well at least I was happy.”

It was on the tip of Jimin’s tongue to mention the pouting, but he held back. The day before had been a strange one, and they were okay, it wasn’t worth spoiling by teasing too much. “Yeah, you were. It was a good night. I had fun. I’d say we’ll do it again, but you look like you could do with a hot chocolate and an early night already.”

Yoongi shook his head, laughing at himself. “Well, as long as you had fun, that’s good enough for me. Have you got any plans for the day?”

“I need to go back into town. I looked at a few things I want to buy but didn’t pick much up because I didn’t want to end up carrying everything.”

“Tomorrow is a better day to go,” Yoongi commented, pleased to have smoothly moved away from the subject of his apparent giggling. “They have a market that sells a lot of amazing local craft and produce. I can go with you if you like; carry a few bags.”

“Such a gentleman,” Jimin smiled as he set his coffee down on the small table, stretching out across the sofa under the window, and pulling the cushions to prop his head up. “In that case, only things on my to-do list are to shower and take a nap.”

“I didn’t keep you awake, did I?”

Yes. “No.” I was staring at you for hours. “I slept like a baby. I just like naps.”

Yoongi didn’t seem to notice the lie, just continuing to sip at his coffee in peaceful, if slightly regretful silence and Jimin just let it hang in the air. It had been a long while since he last had a bad hangover, but he remembered the feeling well enough, and as much fun as it was to tease, he was feeling kind this morning.

“I should go back to my room and wash up properly, let you relax for a while,” he slurred, already able to feel himself falling asleep in the oddly comfortable spot. “Maybe we could get some lunch together.”

Yoongi’s heart jumped at the prospect. “Yeah, sounds good. Maybe a shower and a little more sleep is the way to go for me to go too,” he added sheepishly, forcing himself onto his feet to see Jimin to the door. “And I really mean it; thanks for hanging out last night, and I’m sorry if I said or did anything at all that was weird or uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, I promise,” Jimin assured, patting his cheek. “You were adorable; I hope I get the chance to see it again.”

Yoongi groaned again as Jimin laughed and vanished off to his own room, though he supposed it was better to be thought of as ‘adorable’ and ‘giggling’ than as a weird creep that wouldn’t stop touching him or said something entirely inappropriate.

Then again, Jimin had literally invited touching the morning before, so if he had said or done something, there was always the argument to be made that he was just responding to it in a rather belated way.

He dismissed the thought. This wasn’t a tit-for-tat situation, and having a make-believe argument with himself wasn’t going to get rid of his hangover. The evening, however it had gone, seemed to have ended well enough for Jimin to want to do it again, so he just needed to take that as a win and go straight back to bed.

 

~*~

 

Three hours of sleep, two aspirin and one shower later, Yoongi felt more or less like a human again, pacing along the hall and tapping on Jimin’s door. He belatedly thought that perhaps it might have been better to give Jimin his number before he left that morning; that way he wouldn’t be chancing waking him up from his nap, the door opening just as he was deciding whether to still make the offer.

“Hey, come in, just need to sort my hair out.”

“No rush, just wanted to see if you still wanted to get lunch; I know I’m a little early.”

Jimin wandered back to the small desk, tipping the mirror and fussing with the fluffed-up strands that he had obviously just washed and blow dried. He looked so soft, Yoongi wanted to pet him.

Weird thought.

“You look nice.”

Jimin’s cheeks turned instantly pink. “It’s nothing special.”

No, it wasn’t anything special; it was a plain, navy coloured shirt and fitted black jeans, but the statement remained true. Jimin did look nice. He always looked nice and smelled good too. When Yoongi had gone back to sleep that morning, he had found himself waking with his arms wrapped around the pillow Jimin had slept on.

“What kind of food do you like? There’s a few options here, but we can always go into town if there’s something you prefer?”

“I don’t mind really; I’m not all that hungry.”

Yoongi frowned. “Really? We missed dinner and I’m guessing you skipped breakfast. You much be starving.”

Jimin’s smile slipped for a moment, the one that replaced it not quite reaching his eyes. “I guess I’m used to smaller meals, so missing the odd one here and there doesn’t really bother me.”

Well, Yoongi didn’t like the sound of that at all. Jimin was very slender, and now he was worried that it was very much on purpose. “If you don’t mind what we have then I’ll pick something nice. You finish getting ready, I’m going to run downstairs and see what they have and then I’ll come back,” he said quickly, already knowing exactly what they were having for lunch but needing the extra minutes to get it set up.

If he was going to take Jimin to lunch, then it was going to be the best lunch he ever had.

 

~*~

 

Jimin blinked at the table, every inch of it covered with dishes and different drinks. “Did you order everything on the menu or something?”

“Yep,” Yoongi replied nonchalantly, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. “We can share as much as we want, and anything left over we can box up and eat later. Or not, if you’re hungry enough to eat it all.”

“It would take me a week to eat this much… You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble; I would have been happy with a salad.”

“I know you would have, but you’re basically on vacation, so you should treat yourself. I don’t know exactly what you like, but I wasn’t about to sit here and watch you graze like a baby deer when they do such nice dishes.”

Jimin mock glared at him across the table. “Really not letting the ‘Bambi’ thing go, are you.”

“Never,” Yoongi grinned. “Go ahead, take what you want.”

Jimin cast his eyes over the various dishes, having no idea where to start. The spread was incredible, everything from salad to meats, savouries and sweets and he decided to defy perception, setting a slice of cake on his plate, enjoying the surprised look on Yoongi’s face out the corner of his eye.

“Jimin, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What did you mean when you said you were scared of yourself?”

Jimin almost choked on his mouthful. He had written that letter in a moment of extreme vulnerability, not considering the fact that it might be questioned. At the time, he thought Yoongi might never look at him again, let alone take him drinking, beg him to stay overnight or buy them an extravagant lunch.

All the same, he felt so safe when he was with Yoongi. Like it didn’t matter what he said or did; he would understand and accept him exactly as he was. “I do a lot of stupid stuff.”

Yoongi frowned. “Like what?”

“Like…” Jimin sighed, lowering his voice. “Like what I did yesterday.”

“What? Get horny and shoot your shot?”

Jimin threw his hands over his face, fairly sure the heat from his cheeks was going to melt his fingers. “Oh my god, please don’t say it like that. I just meant I’m really impulsive sometimes and it can get me into trouble.”

Yoongi laughed, picking at the food and laying a few things on his plate. “Good to know; for a second there I was offended.”

“Offended?”

“Hmm… doesn’t do much for the ego to know that asking for assistance is something you do often,” he explained with a cheeky smile. “I can go back to thinking I’m special now.”

Jimin lightly kicked his shin under the table. “Nobody said you were special.”

But you are. You’re special to me.

Yoongi laughed again. “I’ll have to try harder in future then. For the record though, I like you being impulsive. Makes you interesting to be around.”

“Really?”

Yoongi shrugged at him. “Well, yeah. Day one you stared at that mountain looking like you were going to throw up and in the next minute you’re extending your stay because you’re determined to conquer it, and that was just the start,” Yoongi explained, his smile growing with every word. “And then there was yesterday. You got a snowboarding lesson with Jinnie, folded yourself in half in the hot tub, vanished for hours and came back with an insane tattoo, which I love, by the way. So, yeah; you, Park Jimin, are very interesting.”

“Maybe a bit too interesting,” Jimin mumbled, feeling the flush in his cheeks again. “I know it must have freaked you out yesterday when I did what I did.”

“It didn’t freak me out.”

“You literally ran away.”

“That was a me thing, not a you thing.”

Jimin sat back in his seat, surprised by the reply. “What kind of you thing?”

Yoongi smiled. “We’ll hit the bar again later; maybe you’ll get it out of me.”

Jimin laughed, scooping a piece of his cake onto a fork and holding it out for Yoongi to taste. He was nothing like Jimin had imagined when they first met, and he couldn’t wait to find out more.

“First round is on me.”