Keeping Me Up || Yoonmin

G'Morning Sunshine: Thanks For Not Eating My Magnets

Yoongi's POV

The bed around me was warm and smelled like blueberry pancakes and bacon. I tugged closer to my pillow and smoothed my hands underneath the striped case. The pillow breathed out a shaky sigh and curved its fluff to mold my body perfectly away from the cold amongst the rest of the room.

I sighed in bliss, nuzzling my nose further into the soft patch of warmth. My fingers latched onto the fringe of the pillowcase and feathered through the thin veil of brown sugar thread.
A low melody played and I cracked open my eyes as the sun cast an obnoxious squint of light directly at my face.

"Hey. Asshole, wake up." I crinkled my nose, glancing over to the doorway and finding Jungkook. Taehyung his behind him, phone in hand with a smile on his face.

The hell are they doing in my apartment this early on the morning? My tired mind hissed. I pulled the sheet up over my head and pressed my face deeper in the sea of warmth.

"Have you two made up yet?" Taehyung's baritone tune jostled the bed... or maybe not.
The sea breathed- in, out- calm and smooth below my fingertips. The scent was soft and familiar, cool tide holding my waist in place.
A silent breeze of a voice jingled past my ears like a far away chime of a sailor's bell.

"Not yet. Let him sleep a bit." There was a scoff, breaking through the waves and pushing me back to reality.
I wasn't in my room, wasn't in my cold empty bed. The soothing warmth next to me was a magma bundle of bright lights, strawberry cake and dazzling eye smiles I'd been forced to adore.
Once I could hear the crisp click of the door shutting, I tossed away the sheets and peered up to Jimin.

"G'morning, sunshine." He voiced lowly.
His face looked a little fuller from sleep and his eyes no longer sunken with sleep deprivation. His small fingers flicked at my side as welcome and in return I gave him a shy grimace of a smile back.

Everything came back at once, going back to work, Hoseok and Jin, clubbing, drinking, sulking, drinking, and then Jimin.

"I'm sorry about last night." I winced. My own vocal chords betrayed me, scratchy sand having been swallowed in the midst of my lounge. "Jesus. I threw up on your damn floor." I realized with a throbbing ping of painful memory to my temples.

"It's fine." Jimin chirped, sitting up and resting back against his headboard. For a few beats, I stared at the wall that separated our rooms and wondered if the brunet had heard me too all the times I called for him aimlessly on the middle of the night. "I think we should talk."
I crossed my legs on his mattress and shook my head, keeping my eyes to my lap and hands under my thighs.

"I don't really think I want to, Jimin."

"I'm sorry I lied to you." He began anyways. "Back when we'd first moved into the complex I'd seen you in the lobby talking to Mrs. Chu in your Kumamon pajama pants and bed head with the pissiest look I've ever seen in my life."
I could feel his eyes on me the entire time he spoke, small fingers fiddling to the point where I wanted to reach out and grab them; which was dangerous territory for the time being.
"After a month Tae pointed out that we were neighbors and I got drunk and ended up knocking on your door and... you know."
My skin itched and I looked up; his ears were pink and his eyes still drilling holes into me like he was in a trance.
"I really didn't mean to hurt you or cause any of this. I would really like it if we were friends again." He stumbled, looking like he had more to say as he chewed his lower lip.

People like Jimin don't hang out with people like you. Why should you forgive if he doesn't mean it? My conscience crowed. I felt sluggish and the world around me blurred at the edges, only sparing Jimin's humble existence.
It was unfair. I knew, logically, that I should want to dash out the door with a puff of blue smoke left behind in my wake- never to be seen again.
But a different part of me acknowledged that the soft boy in front of me was key. He was there and he'd apologized when I spent the last several hour of consciousness making a fool of myself and wrecking his flat.