flowers and ink » yoonmin

twenty four.

Jimin studied the flowering purple and red marks on his neck and sighed. There was no way he'd be able to cover them, and he didn't own any turtlenecks because they made him look like an egg. He didn't have any scarves, either. He groaned in frustration and smacked his head against the wall. He heard an answering thud from the other side of the wall, and assumed that Yoongi thought he was trying to communicate. It was the opposite really; he'd woken up, taken one look at the hickeys spreading across his neck, and resigned himself to a life of solitude and embarrassment. How was he supposed to deal with customers in this state? They'd see the hickeys and most likely assume he and his girlfriend had wild sex or something, when the idea made him nauseous. Besides, it wasn't like he and Yoongi's heavy make-out session had gotten into the realms that made Jimin flustered and nervous thinking about.

He took in a resigned breath and entered the shop, unlocking the door and flipping the sign on the window to OPEN. When he turned around, he screamed and pressed a hand to his wildly beating heart. Yoongi had snuck up on him and stood right behind him, a smirk on his pale lips.

"Nice accessories," Yoongi said, smirk intensifying as his eyes traced Jimin's hickeys. Jimin huffed and pushed past him, unconsciously reaching a hand up and protectively covering his neck.

"Asshole," Jimin muttered. He got two steps away before Yoongi's arm circled his waist and brought him to a dead stop.

"What was that?" Yoongi asked, voice low, the pitch causing Jimin's skin to dance with electricity.

"I called you an asshole," Jimin said, trying to gaze defiantly into Yoongi's eyes. He most likely looked pleading, like a fly caught in a spiderweb.

"That won't do," Yoongi said, then jabbed his fingers into Jimin's side. Jimin yelped and flinched away, stumbling as Yoongi's support bar of an arm let go of him. He wobbled and started falling, windmilling his arms with the horrible certainty of his head cracking against the tiles. Then Yoongi swooped in and grabbed him, which only made them both fall to the floor. Jimin's breath whooshed out of him as he connected with the hard surface, and Yoongi groaned in pain beside him.

"You ass," Yoongi told him. "I'm gonna have to punish you."

Jimin kept his gaze trained on the ceiling. "Stop being so kinky, it's too early for that shit."

"I was gonna tickle you, but okay," Yoongi said and Jimin blushed in humiliation. He pushed himself off the floor and walked through the shop, throwing his apron on.

"Jimin, you are the dumbest person I've ever met," Yoongi said. Jimin balled up an apron and threw it at him, the pink projectile fueled by indignation. Yoongi caught it effortlessly and tied its strings around his waist, stupidly smirking in that way that made Jimin's breathing unsteady. So Jimin punched him in the arm as hard as he could and muffled Yoongi's complaints with a kiss.

"I hate you," Jimin said after pulling away. Yoongi smiled, and the whole world stopped spinning for a moment.

"I love you too, Jimin," Yoongi replied, then winked, tongue poking out.

"Go play the piano or something," Jimin managed to say past his annoying inability to breathe properly. The mint haired boy just smirked and obliged, smugness practically radiating off him.

~~~

Jimin knew he was in trouble the moment the stern-looking older woman emerged from the jungle of foliage that was aisle three. Her thin face and sharp cheekbones were extremely prominent thanks to her tight bun of steel-gray hair. She was holding a white rose in her hand, and her no-nonsense expression was trained on Jimin with the intensity of a military sergeant. Jimin gulped, hand flying up to his neck, fingers fluttering uselessly near the hickeys. The woman slapped the rose down on the counter and started searching through her purse.