flowers and ink » yoonmin

twelve.

Jimin waited for Yoongi in the flower shop. He regretted offering to help the boy move, but he couldn't turn back now. The bell tinkled, and Jimin ran forward to help. Yoongi was struggling and cursing, trying to wrangle about five boxes through the door. Jimin helped him, and eventually the boxes sat in front of the checkout desk.

"You really don't have much stuff, do you?" Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow. Yoongi just shrugged.

"It's that much easier to move, isn't it? Besides, I didn't need much when I was living with my cousin." Yoongi pretended to shudder. Jimin grinned, wondering what was so bad about this cousin. They started bringing the boxes up into Yoongi's apartment, where the keys had been resting in the keyhole as if waiting for the tattooed boy.

"I didn't think there would be this much room above the flower shop," Yoongi remarked, looking faintly surprised.

"Yeah, it's kinda like magic," Jimin replied. Yoongi snorted.

It took them about two hours to unpack all of Yoongi's stuff, and the clock read 9:13 when they were done. Jimin had been bitterly disappointed; a bandanna made no appearance.

"Is the cafe still open?" Yoongi asked. He was sitting at the kitchen table while Jimin lay on the living room floor.

"I think so," Jimin said through a mouthful of carpet.

"You wanna get something?"

Jimin thought of the dark, and the people. "S-sure," he said. He didn't make any move to get up, though.

"Come on, Flower Boy, let's go!" Yoongi hovered over Jimin, then grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Yoongi didn't let go, even after he was upright. As they stepped into the night, Jimin felt glad. The dark felt less suffocating when Yoongi kept a firm grip on his hand. They ordered hot chocolates, "Just like the first time we came here, remember Jimin?" No one was called Daddy, the awkward end to that first time stayed buried, and Jimin managed to not embarrass himself. All in all, Jimin considered it a success.

They walked back to their apartments, and Yoongi said, "You know, this almost feels like a date." Jimin choked as he unlocked the outer door.

"Why are you like this?" He asked, leading them up the stairs. They paused in front of Jimin's door. Yoongi shrugged.

"If you're hoping for a goodnight kiss, you aren't going to get one," Jimin said, then unlocked his door and stepped inside. He could've sworn he heard Yoongi mutter, "A boy can hope," before the door slammed shut.

~~~

When Jimin told Yoongi he could live in the apartment next door, he hadn't taken into account how thin the walls were. That night, he could hear Yoongi's every footstep as he paced around his room next to Jimin's. Jimin wanted to strangle whoever had decided to put the apartments' bedrooms adjacent to each other. However, his imagined death threats were soon put out of his mind as Yoongi's footsteps stopped. He lay awake, still, staring at the ceiling and wondering about Yoongi. When had he started to be so attracted to the boy? It wasn't fair. Suddenly, Jimin heard a loud sob and then a choked scream from Yoongi's room. His racing heartbeat propelled him into a sitting position, and he listened as the scream turned into muffled crying. Why was Yoongi crying? Why had he screamed? Jimin felt a surge of protectiveness as he heard Yoongi whimper, and without thinking, Jimin ran into the outside hallway.

He disregarded the fact that he was only wearing boxers; the only thing on his mind was panic. He stopped in front of Yoongi's door and heard another muffled whimper. In the dark, his hand searched for the doorknob, and he felt a chill at how cold the metal was. Jimin was relieved when the door opened, and he stepped inside, suddenly feeling hesitant. Yoongi's apartment had the same layout as Jimin's, but it was mirrored, and the interiors were drastically different. While Jimin's apartment was messy and lived-in, Yoongi's was neater than a monk's chambers and almost as bare. Jimin stopped gawking when he heard another scream. They were hoarse, and without a doubt, Yoongi's. He raced past the kitchen and through the tiny living room. Yoongi's bedroom door was wide open, which made Jimin pull up short. He saw Yoongi laying in a chaotic tangle of sheets, a wide stripe of his pale face shining from the moon peeking into the window. Yoongi's arm was thrown over his eyes, lips twisted downward into a distressed frown. His bare chest moved up and down in time with his sporadic and quick breaths. Tears glistened on his cheeks. He was the perfect picture picture of a sorrowful angel, skin looking as though it was made from marble in the moonlight. Yoongi let out a small sob and his arm twitched, fingers curling into a fist over his eyes. Jimin didn't know what to do. He didn't want to wake the sleeping boy, but it was clear that he was having a nightmare. Besides, Yoongi would probably kill him if he did so.

So instead, Jimin crossed the room, doing his best to force his gaze away from the posters and picture frames dotting the walls. He didn't want to linger in Yoongi's personal life; this whole situation felt wrong enough already. Jimin sat down slowly on the edge of Yoongi's bed, cringing as the mattress dipped to accept his weight. The pale boy sleeping beside him moved a little, mumbling unintelligible words. The arm covering his face flopped over, nearly hitting Jimin. His heart stopped and he froze. A fresh tear trailed down Yoongi's face, and a few glistening drops were caught in his long eyelashes. That was when something in Jimin changed. Maybe it was just the moonlight, striping their bodies, or the way Yoongi's normally impassive face contorted into an expression of heartbreaking pain. Whatever it was, it made Jimin's heart wrench and he gently took Yoongi's outstretched hand in his own. The other boy's skin was cool and smooth against his own. Framed by his white sheets, it seemed as though the boy had been replaced by a porcelain figure of himself; breaking and breakable. The black lines inked on his arms gave the impression of spiderwebbing cracks, and it seemed as though Jimin held more than Yoongi's hand. It seemed as though he held the part of Yoongi that he kept hidden; the box where you keep all your pain and doubts and the weapons you use against your own mind. Jimin squeezed Yoongi's hand, imagining putting a lock on that box; a lock whose combination only he knew. And as Yoongi's face slowly relaxed and his breathing evened out, Jimin started to believe that maybe he had locked that box. Jimin sat beside Yoongi for a half hour, long after the boy's nightmare seemed to melt away. He spared the sleeping, vulnerable form one last glance, then stood and retreated to his own room.

happy fourth of july, if you celebrate it! i'm having a party at my house and i'm feeling the anxiety already even though it's only 11. it's gonna be a pool party and i hate wearing swimsuits already, and now i'm gonna have to wear one in front of a bunch of people kms

wish ya girl luck