THE DAWN - VMIN ONE SHOTS

I DON'T WANT NOBODY ELSE 3

Jimin woke before Taehyung, the blue light of early morning painting shadows across the quiet room. For a moment, still caught between sleep and waking, he didn’t register the warmth pressed against him—the slow rise and fall of a chest above his arm. When he opened his eyes fully, it took him a second to realize they were tangled together like a knot that had never tried to untangle.

Taehyung’s head was resting on Jimin’s chest, his cheek slightly smushed, lips parted in a quiet breath. One of Taehyung’s arms was wrapped around Jimin’s waist like a lifeline, his fingers resting just beneath the hem of Jimin’s shirt, warm against his skin. Their legs were slotted together like puzzle pieces, Taehyung’s ankle hooked behind Jimin’s calf, as though even in sleep, he refused to let Jimin go.

And Taehyung looked so heartbreakingly soft like this.

Jimin didn’t move at first. He simply lay there, his fingers twitching at Taehyung’s soft black hair. There was a tenderness blooming in his chest —as if curious, perhaps even fond. So, Jimin gently poked Taehyung’s cheek
with his index finger.

Taehyung stirred, a small whine escaping his lips, and his arms tightened around Jimin’s waist instinctively.

The next breath Jimin released was shaky.

A pang of guilt hit him so hard it left his stomach hollow. The warmth of Taehyung’s embrace didn’t soothe him. It only made the sadness coil deeper, made him feel undeserving. He’d avoided Taehyung for nearly a week, ducking behind excuses and unread messages, ignoring calls with trembling fingers and a pounding heart. And here Taehyung was, curled up like he belonged with him.

The image of last night flashed across Jimin’s mind. Of Taehyung trailing behind him like a silent shadow, hesitant like a boy too afraid to reach out again after being burned once. There had been no confrontation, just quiet following, worried eyes, and a kind of desperation that had carved itself into Jimin’s memory.

He couldn’t stay. He shouldn’t stay.

With delicate hands, Jimin began untangling himself from the embrace. Taehyung grumbled softly in protest, brow twitching as Jimin slipped away, but he didn’t wake. Jimin replaced himself with a pillow. Taehyung, still half-dreaming, latched onto it immediately, burying his face into the fabric like it could substitute Jimin’s presence.

He stood there for a second longer, just watching. And then he ran, slipping out of Yoongi’s apartment before anyone could see him.

...

It was the weekend. Jimin didn’t have to see Taehyung for two whole days, and he told himself he’d use that time to think—to make sense of the chaos inside his chest. He knew Taehyung would find out he had been at Yoongi's house, regardless of his early escape. Taehyung never remembered much when he drank, but their friends were far less forgetful. They’d tell him. They always did.

And Monday came faster than he was ready for.

Jimin didn’t see Taehyung throughout the day. His stomach fluttered with something anxious, even though he told himself it was fine. Taehyung had basketball practice. There was an upcoming match. It made sense. He went to the library that evening, hoping to study and keep his mind from spiraling.

But he couldn’t focus.

His notes turned into idle scribbles, messy thoughts leaking into the margins. He was writing more about Taehyung than anything else. His mind kept drifting back to the way Taehyung looked at him when he thought Jimin wasn’t watching. The things he’d said when drunk, the way he always touched Jimin like he couldn’t live without it.