daybreak | yoonmin

march 9th.

6:11 p.m.

"What's wrong with your toilet again?"

Yoongi ambled through Jimin's minimalist apartment, taking in all the expensive decor and natural lighting. Jimin must have a healthy paycheck. Yoongi's apartment, haphazard and mismatched, looked nothing like the clear cut aesthetic of a neat, white subway tile kitchen he was coming upon.

It wasn't that things were necessarily back to normal between them, but Yoongi had decided there was nothing he could do to make Jimin want him too. If Jimin said he was in a relationship, all he could do was accept that.

It still hurt a little, though. A lot.

But dampened as his spirits were, he still had a soft heart for him. Which means he would still do almost anything to see him, including plunging his toilet.

Yes, Jimin invited him over to fix his toilet, and yes, he was actually here to oblige. The logic didn't check out in his mind but then again the bar was on the floor and crushes were never logical. It was all emotion, and these were the habits of his heart. It's always hard to say no when you're falling for someone it feels like summer in the middle of winter.

Fuck.

"Nothing's wrong with the toilet, 바보." Jimin replied from the kitchen area. Yoongi stopped sightseeing to look back at his friend with great irritation etched onto his features.

"야, then why'd you--!"

Turning around, he was met with the sight of Jimin carefully walking a little blue cookie crumb birthday cake into the living room. His mouth fell open.

"Happy birthday!" Said the younger, "I baked it from scratch for you, even food colored it so it would match your hair. The inside is a little purple though, because the batter was originally pink. Do you like strawberry shortcake?"

Yoongi's mouth curved, agape,  as he reached for some of the icing but his hand quickly retracted.

"Almonds?"

"No!" Jimin said, obviously offended, "I just wanted to make you something for your birthday, stupid cunt."

"Oh," Yoongi's face softened, "Oh."

His hands brushed against Jimin's when he took the cake from him and moved it to the table to be cut. While his sweet tooth watered at the sight of the pretty blue bake, Jimin retreated to the kitchen to get a cake knife and plates and forks.

"So, just how old are you today, you big fat fucking geezer?"

"Twenty seven. And to be honest, I don't even remember telling you my birthday," Yoongi accepted the plate and fork from Jimin.

"You don't have to remember. I do." He shrugged, "And honestly, it was against my will. But you probably don't remember because that was just one little microcosm in the pile of annoying things you do on a daily basis."

Jimin put his hands on his hips then jumped, "Oh! Forgot the candles. Give me a second."

Yoongi let him go back to the kitchen to find some spare candles so he could continue familiarizing himself with the apartment. He looked observantly at the pictures from his chair-- and Jimin had a lot of them. His entire life scattered itself around his home, static memories on walls and accent tables. Yoongi was most drawn to those sitting on the shelves of Jimin's grand, white bookshelf.

Perhaps his favorite of them all was a photograph of a young Jimin, no older than four or five, with rosy red cheeks in a backpack, polo, and slack shorts, standing next to a man in the same uniform, standing in front of a Kochon Elementary. Jimin's mouth was open and his eyes shut, permanently stuck in a silent wail. The man's too. Yoongi exhaled through his nose amusedly.