say you'll stay (don't come and go like you do)
Yoongi/Jimin ; fwb!AU
PG-15 (hint of sex, whatever)
By the time she’s done, Yoongi is already gone. He doesn’t leave a note or even a text. Jimin will see him the next day anyway, because after all, why get attached to your fuck buddy?
A/N: Wow I finished this in a night. Also, I suck at endings.
It’s a small apartment complex tucked away some two, three, streets away from the university-Min Yoongi doesn’t own the place, nor does he live there, but he goes there enough that he just walks in and the guard in charge wouldn’t even question if he’s a tenant anymore -he already knows what the kid is here for. He’s busy playing Stick Hero on his phone, and his pathetic score of 15 is not budging. Yoongi is half frustrated.
“Girlfriend PMS-ing?” Hobeom, the guard, asks upon seeing Yoongi march towards the entrance with his eyes still glued to his iPhone, a tub of Strawberry Cheesecake Blue Bunny in one hand. Someone who would eat all of those in -1 degrees is brave enough.
“Not my girlfriend.” Yoongi just says, giving Hobeom The Finger and walking away, straight up to the elevator where it’s going to take him to the third floor. Hobeom just chuckles, wondering when Yoongi is going to admit that it is indeed his girlfriend whom he’s pestering on a daily basis. And who the fuck is the kid kidding? Hobeom gets the day shift, and he has seen Yoongi more than his own son, because the next day when he’s back, Yoongi is just sneaking out of the apartment complex quietly, sleep in his eyes and hair a mess.
3-B is too familiar, and Yoongi punches in the code 1-0-1-3--the green light flickers and he enters without so much a warning, or even a knock.
Yoongi hears some mad shouting upon entering and he wonders if Jimin has a friend over or something, but as he reaches the small living area it was just Jimin watching a rerun of Keeping Up With The Kardashians and Kim was throwing a fit again. This show is too unhealthy, Yoongi decides.
“Ice cream?” Jimin asks without even a hello, and when Yoongi shoves it in her face, she smiles so wide. She disappears immediately and comes back with one spoon, because Yoongi hates this flavor and it’s all hers.
“I’m fucking famished.” He says, and Jimin just gestures to the microwave where she kept the left-over bibimbap she made for lunch. She lives alone but it has always been a routine to cook for two now. Yoongi doesn’t even pay for the groceries that Jimin buys while he consumes nearly half of it. But Jimin thinks it’s okay, as long as he comes by with food for her and as long as he doesn’t mess with her things that are too colorful for someone who only has black and white clothing.
They don’t talk much, Yoongi munching away in the kitchen as Jimin continues with her watching. Later, when he’s done washing the dishes upon Jimin’s nagging, he joins her on the couch, placing his head on the pillow above her lap. A little later when Khloe is taking too long in the spa, Yoongi grabs the remote and settles on HBO. The Avengers is palying and Jimin glares at him.
“I hate that movie.”
“No, you love this movie.”
“God, you’re such an asshole.” Jimin surrenders, shoving Yoongi’s head away nearly making him fall out of the couch. She doesn’t care, standing up to throw the empty ice cream tub. She heads for the fridge, grabbing her water tumbler. As she glups, Yoongi speaks.
“Jimin-ah…” And he doesn’t say anything else but Jimin knows what he means all too well.
She sighs, shrugging off her giant hoodie, her shirt inside following afterwards as she treads towards Yoongi on the couch. His smile is as bright as ever whenever there’s a half naked girl in front of him, and when Jimin leans down for a kiss, he’s all too eager to reciprocate.
With the heater working in full blast, neither of them is cold despite being completely naked. Yoongi flipped them over now, rutting against Jimin and within a matter of seconds, she’s moaning already, clit throbbing and pussy wet.
Yoongi is leaving a constellation of hickeys around her left boob as he plays with her right nipple, and Jimin is panting harshly, leaving scratches along Yoongi’s back.
“God, just put it in already.” She says, always impatient because Yoongi liked to fucking tease.
“Chill, baby.” He says, voice so low and sinful she can come from just hearing that, but she doesn’t. It’s not enough. She needs his dick so bad and he’s being a stubborn little prick.
“Yoongi, please-fuck me.” She pulls out the ‘please’card, because Jimin doesn’t beg on a normal basis, but she decided to watch some porn earlier in the morning and she’d been on edge ever since. It works well with Yoongi, because he’s already aligning his cock against her entrance, entering slowly like he knows she likes.
They fuck for a long time, because today is Saturday and neither of them has to do anything important. Jimin is sore, Yoongi is sated, and they stay there on the couch until Jimin is itching for a shower. When Yoongi tried to join her, she locks the bathroom door, mumbling the excuse of ‘I really have to get clean’. She has never denied shower sex before, but Yoongi got extra aggressive today and she didn’t felt like she’s ready for round two, anyway. By the time she’s done, Yoongi is already gone. He doesn’t leave a note or even a text. Jimin will see him the next day anyway, because after all, why get attached to your fuck buddy?
It’s been a day-it’s ridiculous, really, that Jimin is waiting for something that would never come. A text. Text? Psh. They don’t text. They don’t need to know each other’s schedules because Yoongi comes in whenever he wants and Jimin will give it to him whenever, wherever. If anything, it’s only Jimin that texts him-where she’s at, if she’s too horny, or if she just wants a quick fuck before proceeding on with what she’s doing for the day. It’s always a one-sided conversation, becausee she doesn’t need a reply of confirmation-Yoongi’s always on the run if it’s sex. One time, she invited him over for movies-no sex, I just want to watch this horror film with someone. also, I have popcorn?-and Yoongi didn’t come. She knew it was plain FWB business and leaves it at that.
But it’s been a day and Yoongi never skips-he comes by for sex four times a week but the remaining three days, he’s just being a freeloader, hoarding all of Jimin’s food and charging all of his gadgets there. She doesn’t complain, much too used to his company like it’s so odd without Yoongi there even if they weren’t doing anything.
So there she is out on her balcony, waiting for a text that will never come, hugging a bowl of bibimpab against her chest as she stares at nothing in particular. She looks like some estranged housewife if anybody were to see her that moment, but who would, if no one would look at her like Yoongi does?
Well, he does come, although it’s already two in the morning and Yoongi comes in barging into her bedroom, smelling like vodka and all things nasty.
“The hell, Yoongi. What are you doing here at this hour?” Jimin asks, still groggy. Yoongi can’t see her but her eyes are glaring, obviously unpleased that he’s making such a fuss at two in the fucking morning.
He’s shredding all of his clothes, and he seems drunk with the way he’s occasionally slurring out words, but there’s no way in hell that they’re going to have sex because he stinks and he’s drunk and Jimin’s too tired from her night jog.
“Party. My-house was too far.” He says, down in some black boxers that she’s never seen before. Must be new. It contrasts beautifully against Yoongi’s pale skin and that Jimin sees even in the dark. He’s about two seconds before passing out when Jimin thankfully scoots over the bed which is luckily big enough for the both of them to fit. Yoongi crashes carelessly, Jimin slightly bouncing on the other side, but it’s no denying that he smells really bad-sweat and alcohol and weeds. He smells like some typical American college dorm room. It’s gross.
“You smell like shit.” Jimin says truthfully. She’s still a girl, and Yoongi doesn’t respect her as a girl, so fuck with it, she’s cleaning him up with a whole lot of alcohol (isopropyl, just because).
Jimin disappears and comes back with a little towel drenched with water and alcohol. She cleans Yoongi’s naked torso with it like he’s some incompetent child and Jimin is his mother. This is kind of ridiculous-everything, with the way Yoongi is letting himself be cleaned and the extent Jimin is going just so she can sleep in peace. What’s also ridiculous is how Yoongi mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like stay when Jimin was about to put the towel away.
She stares at his semi-dead form for a whole minute and then realizes that oh, Yoongi is holding onto her wrist, dangerously close to her palm, and Jimin is stuck with an internal debate of whether or not she’ll put the towel away or fuck it she’ll just leave the towel on the floor and jump into the chance of snuggling with Yoongi. They’ve never done it-an established ground rule that they wouldn’t cuddle because that’s weird. It’s basically feelings expressed in gross, human bodily forms (care of Yoongi) and Jimin is to agree because, hey, just fuck buddies.
Jimin doesn’t really want to ruin the moment, but the only space for her is on the other side of the bed so she has to walk around. When he removes Yoongi’s grip on her wrist, his hand drops dead, and he’s knocked out, all soft snores that would progress throughout the night. But what the hell-Jimin is totally awake now, can’t be bothered to sleep again because some guy she fucks barges into her apartment in the middle of the night, unannounced, strips down to his boxers and now he’s asking her to stay like she’s going anywhere. She wasn’t. Yoongi can see her as a fuck buddy for all his life but for Jimin, sweet, little Jimin, Min Yoongi is someone she gave her heart to a long time ago. That part was just a little bit (too much, actually) fucked up because damn it you weren’t supposed to fall in love with the guy who fucks you and leaves you.
But whatever. Jimin scoots towards Yoongi, their faces close enough as she examines his face in the dark, the tiny hint of moonlight illuminating half of his face, and he looks so beautiful like this, so peaceful. His eyelashes are kind of long, and his lips are probably one of her favorite features of him so she stares, grabs onto the chance while she can because it’s not everyday she can pretend that she’s not in love with him. She counts to Yoongi’s breathing, feeling it lull her to sleep, so she does, her head on his shoulder and her hands in his.
Shit, this is not my place, Yoongi thinks as he stares at the ceiling that is most certainly not the ceiling of his own room. It’s white, and the room doesn’t smell like shit, and-
“Shit,” He just said that out loud. Jimin is passed out beside him, looking so pretty even with her hair so messed up like that. Yoongi’s arm feels so dead and he realizes that Jimin has been occupying said arm and Yoongi’s instinct is to pull away, because even in his drunken haze he knows that cuddling is forbidden territory. He remembered being at a party and being extremely drunk to the point of forgetting how to even go back to his own place. Well, what seemed like a pretty good idea is walking the six blocks to Jimin’s apartment complex because Yoongi’s feet (oddly enough) has a mind of their own. And he doesn’t know what happened after his third attempt at typing her passcode in. So this is how he ends up with Jimin on Jimin’s bed with him nothing in his boxers and her in her pajamas. Weird. If ever they had sex, they will be both naked as always but Jimin is in flannel pajamas and she’s looking pretty normal, if anything.
At about seven in the morning, Yoongi still feels plastered, and his internal monologue is not stopping. The least he wants is to wake Jimin up from her sleep, so he settles, basking in the warmth of her body. For the one whole year he’s known her, he’s about 99% close to explosion because a) feelings should be out of this, b) they’re fuck buddies, and c) he thinks he’s totally in love with her. Which sucks because what if Jimin only sees him for what he is (yeah, again, a fuck buddy). Though in retrospect, Yoongi is totally the stupid one here, too blind to see that Jimin is handing out her heart for the taking and he’s too far gone and idiotic to notice.
Eat, you look like you haven’t eaten in a week, Jimin says as she forgoes writing her paper due within the next two hours in favor of making him dinner.
I saw this beanie and thought you might like it, Jimin says as she tosses Yoongi a small plastic bag that hits him square on the face without looking up from her phone.
I’m going to your little rap showcase because I just wanted free beer, who says I want to see you, Jimin says, the lie bleeding through her words as she paints her toenails a shade of pink.
No low-fat milk? Yoongi asks as he raids Jimin’s fridge for something to mix his cereal with. What’s the use when you keep ditching the cereal because apparently low-fat milk tastes like sour breast milk? Jimin says, totally fine that she’s going to gain a few pounds just because she’s forced (or just willing) to buy the milk that he likes. (she’s totally not fine)
So looking at it, everything else that she’s doing screams I love you but Yoongi didn’t graduate with a 4.0 GPA back in high school so how is he supposed to know? His dick’s got a big head so he allows it to do the thinking most of the time, which is So Real that’s why he ended up fucking her on a regular basis.
Jimin stirs, and Yoongi fakes sleep and failing so bad at it but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. She tenses in his hold, though clearly aware that she did it last night, but she had expected that she would somehow wake up to pee somewhere between four and five am. But she doesn’t, and she panics, sitting up, hitting Yoongi’s face in the process and then he groans.
“Aw,”
“Shit-sorry, I just-“ Jimin runs out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, and locks herself in, face heated from everything that happened within the span of ten seconds. It’s too much; she thought she would get away with it, but stupid hand decided to smack Yoongi’s face so there, he’s awake, and it’s terribly awkward that she cannot, for the life of her, face him.
Yoongi beats her to it anyway. “Jimin-ah, open the door.” He calls softly.
“Okay, first of all, I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
“Jimin, just open the door.”
She doesn’t, and he’s about to loose patience this early in the morning.
“Jimin, open the door. I wanna see you.”
Fuck, what the hell.
“No. Please-I-I’ll see you later, Yoongi. I’m not feeling to well.” Jimin says. It’s not a lie-well, it is, but just half of it. She means it when she says she’ll see him later because facing him now seems a little too much, the tension between them so heavy now as much as what happened a while ago had allowed. It wasn’t even full-on cuddling and the gross shit that Yoongi hates so much. Her head was on his arms and somehow, their fingers are touching (and Yoongi haven’t even noticed)-big deal, what if Jimin just moved around too much in her sleep (she doesn’t).
So okay, Yoongi leaves, gathering all his clothes from where he shucked them all off last night, shoulders a heavy slouch as he leaves Jimin’s apartment.
Later turns out to be that night, when Yoongi is a on a whole new level of sober and Jimin has calmed down from her previous panic attack (even though she doesn’t want to consider it as one, but she’s definitely panicking).
Yoongi barges in unannounced like he always does, but softly this time, afraid that Jimin might run away again. He has the ice cream that she likes, so if ever things do not go well today, Jimin has something to take care of her.
“Hey,” Yoongi calls upon seeing her curled up on her couch while reading a book.
“Hi.” Jimin replies as he settles down by her feet. “…I brought ice cream.”
“Thanks.” Jimin says, sitting up and tugging the kilt around her.
“Jimin, look-I’m sorry. I don’t know if I did something wrong a while ago but…sorry.” Yoongi finally says, his resolve crumbling down. On a normal basis, he wouldn’t even be doing things such as apologizing-that’s not his turf-but for once, he wants to make things right. Because for the past six months, he can’t help but let Jimin build a place of her own in the deep corners of his heart. It’s a shame for anyone who would follow their tragic love story to see that they’re just dancing around each other for so long, too ashamed to talk about pesky, little things such as feelings…or love, or anything within the perimiter of those two.
Most FWB relationships end up badly, but some of them-some special cases-progress slowly into love…and the like. Whatever it is. It’s a beautiful thing, really, but two dumb people can play this game.
“To hell with it.” Yoongi mutters more to himself. Self-encouragement, yup, that’s what it is, so he faces Jimin, looks at her straight in the eyes like he’s never done before. “I don’t care if I sound crazy right now but I love you, Park Jimin. I love you-all of it; your cooking, how you just let is pass when I’m basically a free-loader if not a sex parter, how you care enough about me to buy me beanies and come to my performances, your vagina-“
“Fuck you, Yoongi. You ruined it!” Jimin says, totally laughing her ass off from where she had cut his supposed-to-be romantic dialogue. But she doesn’t care, because only three words were enough for her to hear, enough for her to latch onto him, because finally they’re done dancing tango with unspoken words and not-enough affection.
She kisses him, soft and slow, and Yoongi’s hands come up to hold her by the waste, savoring everything that is Jimin because it took them a year to scrape off that label of friends with benefits. Jimin will stop lying to her friends when they ask who owns the pair of Vans by the door or the black shirt that says COMME DES FUCKDOWN that miraculously made its way in the corner of the couch. Yoongi will finally stop telling Hobeom that Jimin is not her girlfriend because she is now, and he’s more than happy to announce it to everyone that yes, the object of his affection is very much real and now he can get laid without lying to everyone when they ask who gave him a good head because he looks so alive.
They kiss for a long time, Jimin smiling ever so often and it’s contagious because Yoongi is smiling, too. She’s never seen him smile that much before, but Jimin thinks this might be one of her favorite sights. When Jimin breaks away, she hugs Yoongi, nuzzles her nose against his neck and he tightens his grip that he has on her waist.
“By the way, I love you, too.” Jimin says, and when she gets a dazzling smile and a kiss in the forehead, (crap, what can be sweeter than that) she knows that they’re both staying for a long time. For good, maybe.
-
Might have a sequel. I dunno. If I'm not lazy.
PG-15 (hint of sex, whatever)
By the time she’s done, Yoongi is already gone. He doesn’t leave a note or even a text. Jimin will see him the next day anyway, because after all, why get attached to your fuck buddy?
A/N: Wow I finished this in a night. Also, I suck at endings.
It’s a small apartment complex tucked away some two, three, streets away from the university-Min Yoongi doesn’t own the place, nor does he live there, but he goes there enough that he just walks in and the guard in charge wouldn’t even question if he’s a tenant anymore -he already knows what the kid is here for. He’s busy playing Stick Hero on his phone, and his pathetic score of 15 is not budging. Yoongi is half frustrated.
“Girlfriend PMS-ing?” Hobeom, the guard, asks upon seeing Yoongi march towards the entrance with his eyes still glued to his iPhone, a tub of Strawberry Cheesecake Blue Bunny in one hand. Someone who would eat all of those in -1 degrees is brave enough.
“Not my girlfriend.” Yoongi just says, giving Hobeom The Finger and walking away, straight up to the elevator where it’s going to take him to the third floor. Hobeom just chuckles, wondering when Yoongi is going to admit that it is indeed his girlfriend whom he’s pestering on a daily basis. And who the fuck is the kid kidding? Hobeom gets the day shift, and he has seen Yoongi more than his own son, because the next day when he’s back, Yoongi is just sneaking out of the apartment complex quietly, sleep in his eyes and hair a mess.
3-B is too familiar, and Yoongi punches in the code 1-0-1-3--the green light flickers and he enters without so much a warning, or even a knock.
Yoongi hears some mad shouting upon entering and he wonders if Jimin has a friend over or something, but as he reaches the small living area it was just Jimin watching a rerun of Keeping Up With The Kardashians and Kim was throwing a fit again. This show is too unhealthy, Yoongi decides.
“Ice cream?” Jimin asks without even a hello, and when Yoongi shoves it in her face, she smiles so wide. She disappears immediately and comes back with one spoon, because Yoongi hates this flavor and it’s all hers.
“I’m fucking famished.” He says, and Jimin just gestures to the microwave where she kept the left-over bibimbap she made for lunch. She lives alone but it has always been a routine to cook for two now. Yoongi doesn’t even pay for the groceries that Jimin buys while he consumes nearly half of it. But Jimin thinks it’s okay, as long as he comes by with food for her and as long as he doesn’t mess with her things that are too colorful for someone who only has black and white clothing.
They don’t talk much, Yoongi munching away in the kitchen as Jimin continues with her watching. Later, when he’s done washing the dishes upon Jimin’s nagging, he joins her on the couch, placing his head on the pillow above her lap. A little later when Khloe is taking too long in the spa, Yoongi grabs the remote and settles on HBO. The Avengers is palying and Jimin glares at him.
“I hate that movie.”
“No, you love this movie.”
“God, you’re such an asshole.” Jimin surrenders, shoving Yoongi’s head away nearly making him fall out of the couch. She doesn’t care, standing up to throw the empty ice cream tub. She heads for the fridge, grabbing her water tumbler. As she glups, Yoongi speaks.
“Jimin-ah…” And he doesn’t say anything else but Jimin knows what he means all too well.
She sighs, shrugging off her giant hoodie, her shirt inside following afterwards as she treads towards Yoongi on the couch. His smile is as bright as ever whenever there’s a half naked girl in front of him, and when Jimin leans down for a kiss, he’s all too eager to reciprocate.
With the heater working in full blast, neither of them is cold despite being completely naked. Yoongi flipped them over now, rutting against Jimin and within a matter of seconds, she’s moaning already, clit throbbing and pussy wet.
Yoongi is leaving a constellation of hickeys around her left boob as he plays with her right nipple, and Jimin is panting harshly, leaving scratches along Yoongi’s back.
“God, just put it in already.” She says, always impatient because Yoongi liked to fucking tease.
“Chill, baby.” He says, voice so low and sinful she can come from just hearing that, but she doesn’t. It’s not enough. She needs his dick so bad and he’s being a stubborn little prick.
“Yoongi, please-fuck me.” She pulls out the ‘please’card, because Jimin doesn’t beg on a normal basis, but she decided to watch some porn earlier in the morning and she’d been on edge ever since. It works well with Yoongi, because he’s already aligning his cock against her entrance, entering slowly like he knows she likes.
They fuck for a long time, because today is Saturday and neither of them has to do anything important. Jimin is sore, Yoongi is sated, and they stay there on the couch until Jimin is itching for a shower. When Yoongi tried to join her, she locks the bathroom door, mumbling the excuse of ‘I really have to get clean’. She has never denied shower sex before, but Yoongi got extra aggressive today and she didn’t felt like she’s ready for round two, anyway. By the time she’s done, Yoongi is already gone. He doesn’t leave a note or even a text. Jimin will see him the next day anyway, because after all, why get attached to your fuck buddy?
It’s been a day-it’s ridiculous, really, that Jimin is waiting for something that would never come. A text. Text? Psh. They don’t text. They don’t need to know each other’s schedules because Yoongi comes in whenever he wants and Jimin will give it to him whenever, wherever. If anything, it’s only Jimin that texts him-where she’s at, if she’s too horny, or if she just wants a quick fuck before proceeding on with what she’s doing for the day. It’s always a one-sided conversation, becausee she doesn’t need a reply of confirmation-Yoongi’s always on the run if it’s sex. One time, she invited him over for movies-no sex, I just want to watch this horror film with someone. also, I have popcorn?-and Yoongi didn’t come. She knew it was plain FWB business and leaves it at that.
But it’s been a day and Yoongi never skips-he comes by for sex four times a week but the remaining three days, he’s just being a freeloader, hoarding all of Jimin’s food and charging all of his gadgets there. She doesn’t complain, much too used to his company like it’s so odd without Yoongi there even if they weren’t doing anything.
So there she is out on her balcony, waiting for a text that will never come, hugging a bowl of bibimpab against her chest as she stares at nothing in particular. She looks like some estranged housewife if anybody were to see her that moment, but who would, if no one would look at her like Yoongi does?
Well, he does come, although it’s already two in the morning and Yoongi comes in barging into her bedroom, smelling like vodka and all things nasty.
“The hell, Yoongi. What are you doing here at this hour?” Jimin asks, still groggy. Yoongi can’t see her but her eyes are glaring, obviously unpleased that he’s making such a fuss at two in the fucking morning.
He’s shredding all of his clothes, and he seems drunk with the way he’s occasionally slurring out words, but there’s no way in hell that they’re going to have sex because he stinks and he’s drunk and Jimin’s too tired from her night jog.
“Party. My-house was too far.” He says, down in some black boxers that she’s never seen before. Must be new. It contrasts beautifully against Yoongi’s pale skin and that Jimin sees even in the dark. He’s about two seconds before passing out when Jimin thankfully scoots over the bed which is luckily big enough for the both of them to fit. Yoongi crashes carelessly, Jimin slightly bouncing on the other side, but it’s no denying that he smells really bad-sweat and alcohol and weeds. He smells like some typical American college dorm room. It’s gross.
“You smell like shit.” Jimin says truthfully. She’s still a girl, and Yoongi doesn’t respect her as a girl, so fuck with it, she’s cleaning him up with a whole lot of alcohol (isopropyl, just because).
Jimin disappears and comes back with a little towel drenched with water and alcohol. She cleans Yoongi’s naked torso with it like he’s some incompetent child and Jimin is his mother. This is kind of ridiculous-everything, with the way Yoongi is letting himself be cleaned and the extent Jimin is going just so she can sleep in peace. What’s also ridiculous is how Yoongi mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like stay when Jimin was about to put the towel away.
She stares at his semi-dead form for a whole minute and then realizes that oh, Yoongi is holding onto her wrist, dangerously close to her palm, and Jimin is stuck with an internal debate of whether or not she’ll put the towel away or fuck it she’ll just leave the towel on the floor and jump into the chance of snuggling with Yoongi. They’ve never done it-an established ground rule that they wouldn’t cuddle because that’s weird. It’s basically feelings expressed in gross, human bodily forms (care of Yoongi) and Jimin is to agree because, hey, just fuck buddies.
Jimin doesn’t really want to ruin the moment, but the only space for her is on the other side of the bed so she has to walk around. When he removes Yoongi’s grip on her wrist, his hand drops dead, and he’s knocked out, all soft snores that would progress throughout the night. But what the hell-Jimin is totally awake now, can’t be bothered to sleep again because some guy she fucks barges into her apartment in the middle of the night, unannounced, strips down to his boxers and now he’s asking her to stay like she’s going anywhere. She wasn’t. Yoongi can see her as a fuck buddy for all his life but for Jimin, sweet, little Jimin, Min Yoongi is someone she gave her heart to a long time ago. That part was just a little bit (too much, actually) fucked up because damn it you weren’t supposed to fall in love with the guy who fucks you and leaves you.
But whatever. Jimin scoots towards Yoongi, their faces close enough as she examines his face in the dark, the tiny hint of moonlight illuminating half of his face, and he looks so beautiful like this, so peaceful. His eyelashes are kind of long, and his lips are probably one of her favorite features of him so she stares, grabs onto the chance while she can because it’s not everyday she can pretend that she’s not in love with him. She counts to Yoongi’s breathing, feeling it lull her to sleep, so she does, her head on his shoulder and her hands in his.
Shit, this is not my place, Yoongi thinks as he stares at the ceiling that is most certainly not the ceiling of his own room. It’s white, and the room doesn’t smell like shit, and-
“Shit,” He just said that out loud. Jimin is passed out beside him, looking so pretty even with her hair so messed up like that. Yoongi’s arm feels so dead and he realizes that Jimin has been occupying said arm and Yoongi’s instinct is to pull away, because even in his drunken haze he knows that cuddling is forbidden territory. He remembered being at a party and being extremely drunk to the point of forgetting how to even go back to his own place. Well, what seemed like a pretty good idea is walking the six blocks to Jimin’s apartment complex because Yoongi’s feet (oddly enough) has a mind of their own. And he doesn’t know what happened after his third attempt at typing her passcode in. So this is how he ends up with Jimin on Jimin’s bed with him nothing in his boxers and her in her pajamas. Weird. If ever they had sex, they will be both naked as always but Jimin is in flannel pajamas and she’s looking pretty normal, if anything.
At about seven in the morning, Yoongi still feels plastered, and his internal monologue is not stopping. The least he wants is to wake Jimin up from her sleep, so he settles, basking in the warmth of her body. For the one whole year he’s known her, he’s about 99% close to explosion because a) feelings should be out of this, b) they’re fuck buddies, and c) he thinks he’s totally in love with her. Which sucks because what if Jimin only sees him for what he is (yeah, again, a fuck buddy). Though in retrospect, Yoongi is totally the stupid one here, too blind to see that Jimin is handing out her heart for the taking and he’s too far gone and idiotic to notice.
Eat, you look like you haven’t eaten in a week, Jimin says as she forgoes writing her paper due within the next two hours in favor of making him dinner.
I saw this beanie and thought you might like it, Jimin says as she tosses Yoongi a small plastic bag that hits him square on the face without looking up from her phone.
I’m going to your little rap showcase because I just wanted free beer, who says I want to see you, Jimin says, the lie bleeding through her words as she paints her toenails a shade of pink.
No low-fat milk? Yoongi asks as he raids Jimin’s fridge for something to mix his cereal with. What’s the use when you keep ditching the cereal because apparently low-fat milk tastes like sour breast milk? Jimin says, totally fine that she’s going to gain a few pounds just because she’s forced (or just willing) to buy the milk that he likes. (she’s totally not fine)
So looking at it, everything else that she’s doing screams I love you but Yoongi didn’t graduate with a 4.0 GPA back in high school so how is he supposed to know? His dick’s got a big head so he allows it to do the thinking most of the time, which is So Real that’s why he ended up fucking her on a regular basis.
Jimin stirs, and Yoongi fakes sleep and failing so bad at it but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. She tenses in his hold, though clearly aware that she did it last night, but she had expected that she would somehow wake up to pee somewhere between four and five am. But she doesn’t, and she panics, sitting up, hitting Yoongi’s face in the process and then he groans.
“Aw,”
“Shit-sorry, I just-“ Jimin runs out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, and locks herself in, face heated from everything that happened within the span of ten seconds. It’s too much; she thought she would get away with it, but stupid hand decided to smack Yoongi’s face so there, he’s awake, and it’s terribly awkward that she cannot, for the life of her, face him.
Yoongi beats her to it anyway. “Jimin-ah, open the door.” He calls softly.
“Okay, first of all, I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t mean to-“
“Jimin, just open the door.”
She doesn’t, and he’s about to loose patience this early in the morning.
“Jimin, open the door. I wanna see you.”
Fuck, what the hell.
“No. Please-I-I’ll see you later, Yoongi. I’m not feeling to well.” Jimin says. It’s not a lie-well, it is, but just half of it. She means it when she says she’ll see him later because facing him now seems a little too much, the tension between them so heavy now as much as what happened a while ago had allowed. It wasn’t even full-on cuddling and the gross shit that Yoongi hates so much. Her head was on his arms and somehow, their fingers are touching (and Yoongi haven’t even noticed)-big deal, what if Jimin just moved around too much in her sleep (she doesn’t).
So okay, Yoongi leaves, gathering all his clothes from where he shucked them all off last night, shoulders a heavy slouch as he leaves Jimin’s apartment.
Later turns out to be that night, when Yoongi is a on a whole new level of sober and Jimin has calmed down from her previous panic attack (even though she doesn’t want to consider it as one, but she’s definitely panicking).
Yoongi barges in unannounced like he always does, but softly this time, afraid that Jimin might run away again. He has the ice cream that she likes, so if ever things do not go well today, Jimin has something to take care of her.
“Hey,” Yoongi calls upon seeing her curled up on her couch while reading a book.
“Hi.” Jimin replies as he settles down by her feet. “…I brought ice cream.”
“Thanks.” Jimin says, sitting up and tugging the kilt around her.
“Jimin, look-I’m sorry. I don’t know if I did something wrong a while ago but…sorry.” Yoongi finally says, his resolve crumbling down. On a normal basis, he wouldn’t even be doing things such as apologizing-that’s not his turf-but for once, he wants to make things right. Because for the past six months, he can’t help but let Jimin build a place of her own in the deep corners of his heart. It’s a shame for anyone who would follow their tragic love story to see that they’re just dancing around each other for so long, too ashamed to talk about pesky, little things such as feelings…or love, or anything within the perimiter of those two.
Most FWB relationships end up badly, but some of them-some special cases-progress slowly into love…and the like. Whatever it is. It’s a beautiful thing, really, but two dumb people can play this game.
“To hell with it.” Yoongi mutters more to himself. Self-encouragement, yup, that’s what it is, so he faces Jimin, looks at her straight in the eyes like he’s never done before. “I don’t care if I sound crazy right now but I love you, Park Jimin. I love you-all of it; your cooking, how you just let is pass when I’m basically a free-loader if not a sex parter, how you care enough about me to buy me beanies and come to my performances, your vagina-“
“Fuck you, Yoongi. You ruined it!” Jimin says, totally laughing her ass off from where she had cut his supposed-to-be romantic dialogue. But she doesn’t care, because only three words were enough for her to hear, enough for her to latch onto him, because finally they’re done dancing tango with unspoken words and not-enough affection.
She kisses him, soft and slow, and Yoongi’s hands come up to hold her by the waste, savoring everything that is Jimin because it took them a year to scrape off that label of friends with benefits. Jimin will stop lying to her friends when they ask who owns the pair of Vans by the door or the black shirt that says COMME DES FUCKDOWN that miraculously made its way in the corner of the couch. Yoongi will finally stop telling Hobeom that Jimin is not her girlfriend because she is now, and he’s more than happy to announce it to everyone that yes, the object of his affection is very much real and now he can get laid without lying to everyone when they ask who gave him a good head because he looks so alive.
They kiss for a long time, Jimin smiling ever so often and it’s contagious because Yoongi is smiling, too. She’s never seen him smile that much before, but Jimin thinks this might be one of her favorite sights. When Jimin breaks away, she hugs Yoongi, nuzzles her nose against his neck and he tightens his grip that he has on her waist.
“By the way, I love you, too.” Jimin says, and when she gets a dazzling smile and a kiss in the forehead, (crap, what can be sweeter than that) she knows that they’re both staying for a long time. For good, maybe.
-
Might have a sequel. I dunno. If I'm not lazy.