Keeping Me Up || Yoonmin

Wasted Pancakes and Wasted Time

Yoongi's POV

When I woke up again, I was alone in the cold of my bedroom. Sleep fell heavy on my eyes and a burning light pierced through to my eyes. A yawn stretched across my body in a wave of fatigue, curling at my toes and clawing at my bedsheets.
A distant clatter came from behind my door and the smell of pancakes drifted from under the wood.

Namjoon must have Jin over. I thought with a sigh.
It was too early for me to deal with Jin's flirty persona in my own home. I wanted to sleep more, but my stomach had other plans.
Of course after Hoseok had left I naturally didn't eat anything. I couldn't really remember what happened after we fought or how exactly I managed to drag myself into bed, change my sheets, and down to my boxers as well.

"Ouchie!" A voice groaned followed by another loud pang of a pan and crying sizzle of food.
My heart felt the need to make an appearance in my throat. My pulse fired against my Adam's apple and threaded deep at my temples in a wild surge of panic.

There's only one person I know who says that... Odly enough my stomach was brewing with hope; hope that it actually was my small fluff of a friend; that it was Jimin.
I carefully swooped up out of my sheets and fox stepped my way across the dark wood floor of my room. I cracked open my door to sneak a look out into the kitchen, but only saw the back of an unfamiliar person.

Their shoulders were small and were cloaked in a loose, dark hoodie while their legs swam in plaid pajama pants with the words 'YGHS Baseball 2015-16' down the left leg. Curly, brown, bedhead locks shone with the light of the window from the kitchen. A soft, pleasant hum of Big Bang's 'Let's Not Fall In Love' buzzed through the air as well as the crackle of breakfast. A subtle shimmy of the shoulders and raise of the right hand as well as the wet slam and scream of food alerted me the person was making pancakes.
I didn't have the kinda shit it took to make pancakes.

What the fuck? I thought- wild ideas of a burglar slipping his way into my home just to make pancakes flooded my mind.
I edged through the crack in my door and creeped down the hall, silently padding my way through my living room and to the island in the kitchen. I watched a little more attentively to the features of the person.

Their ears were shaded a pretty pink as well as their neck from the heat of the stove- a kind of color that made me want to see if it stretched across the person's collarbones or cheeks and maybe just a little over the bridge of their nose.

"Jin?" I murmured, bringing a hand up to run against my eye as I leaned against the marble tabletop. The person's back straightened and they slowly twisted the gas off of the stove, making the blue flame dull under the shadow of the pan. "Where's Joon?" I asked groggily. My voice sounds like I'd swallowed glass almost as much as it felt like I just screamed my lungs out for half a night.
Stiff backed and shaking hands, the person slowly set down the pan and angled it's face down before hurriedly rushing out the door.

"Ouch!" The person whimpered when their foot made contact with the corner of the door as they sped out.

"Wait!" I managed to fumbled out just before the door slammed behind them, nearly tripping over the living room rug in the process.

Feet tripping, stumbling, tumbling down the hall over to my neighbor's door, semi pudgy hands reached to turn the knob just to be stopped by my hand.
"Jimin." I breathed out like I'd just surfaced from struggling fifty feet under water.

"Please let me go, hyung." He mumbled, voice scratchy and hollow; almost like he hadn't used it in a while. His head hung low and was covered by a layer of sleek brown fringe. My heart quivered at the thought that he couldn't even look at me.