daybreak | yoonmin

february 12th.

6:40 a.m.

"Book of the day. Hit it!"

Now, you might think after a week of this, Yoongi would stop thinking that hit it!, as a phrase, was the funniest of any other human linguistic contribution. But no... this was not the case.

Each and every time, every single day, Jimin had to watch a grown man double over with laughter for roughly one minute. And then explode with it again a handful of minutes later during a completely different topic of conversation-- meet his stone face with a, "It's not funny, sorry." And, if he really liked the flair with which he said it on any given day, start making glass cleaner bottle sounds on the monorail, and turn red in the face in recollection of it all. Sometimes Jimin would mock his laughter-- akikiki!-- which he did today, which again, did nothing to stop the akikiki'ing.

Jimin bookmarked his page with his finger from the bench, surprisingly willing to lend the standing Yoongi his eyes. Yoongi seemed stunned that he had gotten his attention so easily, but he just rolled with it. The grouch must have just finally gotten a good night's sleep, or something.

"It's called In Search of Lost Time. Proust. I think I like it. What about you, what are you reading?" Jimin inquired, motioning to the newspaper folded in his acquaintance's hands.

"The weekly horoscope." He answered, prompting Jimin's grimace.

"Wow!" Jimin smiled widely and sarcastically up at the man, a lackluster look returning to his face as soon as he went back to reading.

More of a realist than a dreamer, Jimin didn't think that something like the alignment of the stars or your birthday could determine your fate, your personality, your attractions or shortcomings. He believed in more concrete things-- id, ego, superego. He'd met plenty of Aries that weren't rude, and several Geminis who weren't two-faced. That that kind of stuff -- that kind of mindset, didn't make sense. Also, unrelatedly, what the fuck is a Venus sign, and why does it matter if Jupiter is in Aquarius?

Anyway, Yoongi wasn't the most logical person to cross his path.

"Oh, I get it. You're one of those dweebs who doesn't believe in astrology." Yoongi concluded. "On behalf of the stars, fuck you."

Jimin reopened his book and hummed, popping a grape into his mouth with a challenging glare to the other man.

"Well, you know. Can't believe in something that isn't real."

He could stand a lot of things-- actually that was a lie-- but he for sure could not stand astrology talk, and he could not stand blue-haired boys and their nut allergies, and he especially could not stand astrology talk from blue-haired boys with nut allergies. So Jimin reached into his pocket and produced from that little white shell that held his AirPods.

Yoongi reminded him of a golden retriever puppy that needed training. Part of that training included knowing that one AirPod meant conversation was negotiable. Two, though? Red light. Stop talking because no one's listening.

Jimin looked directly at an offended Yoongi as he reached for not one but both headphones in the pair. Thinking this was his all-access pass to comfortable silence-- because more often than not he didn't have anything playing, just needed Yoongi to not talk for a while-- Jimin put on a shit-eating grin that made Yoongi's jaw drop in awe of the audacity.

He plucked the second from Jimin's grip, and now their expressions switched.

"Give it back!"

"Aht! Aht!"

Jimin groaned animatedly and gave an angry stomp, but Yoongi didn't seem to care.

"AHT! Tell me when you were born so I can give you your astrological forecast for the week."

He huffed. "October thirteenth."

"Libra ..." Yoongi mused, flapping the newspaper out. "Adds up."

As Yoongi scanned the page in search of the horoscope, Jimin took the opportunity to take a good look at the man who blocked out the sun-- forcing him to read in the dark. The jawline was angular enough but not too boxy; the pink and glistening cheeks, dewy with product; and hair, in need of a cut, caught light where it got thin at the ends that gave him a halo of gold and green. The black peacoat he wore daily hid most of his torso and some of his skinny, frost white legs. He began to consider what hid beneath, hiding his nosiness behind characteristic disinterest.

Now that I think about it, he is kind of good-looking.

Taehyung.

Taehyung.

Jimin cleared his throat, pulling the red scarf closer to his face. He hadn't spoken to Taehyung in days, which was the kind of thing that was normal but shouldn't have been. They were supposed to be together, but took an unexpected hiatus due to...

technical difficulties.

Though he tried to forget about the circumstances, guilt was swallowing him up like a sinkhole. It was the dark storm cloud that clapped with thunder above him, the bird that cawed at his bedside when he tried to lay himself to sleep at night. He didn't want to feel his way. He wanted to change things. Wanting but never changing.

"Ah, here it is. Libra." Yoongi pointed at the column in the paper. Jimin blinked back to the now, focusing on the cacophony of Trescott Avenue Station and, of course, Yoongi's booming, blooming voice.

"'You've been guarded so long, so why not give yourself a break this week? Let another person take the wheel while you sit back and roll with the punches. It's okay to lose control sometimes -- It's time for you to give in.' "

And Jimin said, "Sick."

So Yoongi said, "Is it really?"

And Jimin smiled, "You know what? Now that I think about it? No."