SUNSHINE, jihope. [fin.]

6; you make me

Hoseok doesn't know when it starts.

He doesn't know when he goes from vaguely avoiding Jimin when he's shirtless to flushing when Jimin does nothing more than stretch, his t-shirt revealing barely a strip of skin. He's not sure how his admiration for Jimin's smile turns into craving the sight of it because even after the longest of days it washes away his weariness. He can't understand how he morphed from appreciating Jimin's kindness to his heart fluttering when Jimin buys him his favorite snack because he knows Hoseok has run out.

And he has no clue how he used to be sympathetic when Jimin was upset but now he feels like someone's clawing out his stomach just from seeing his frown.

He comes home late after a particularly tiring night spent practicing, aching and sweaty and ready to pass out as soon as he hits the bed. Jimin stands in the kitchen over a pot of tea, messy hair and no shirt. His tan skin glows in the warm light of their apartment. The hem of his sweatpants is slung so low the tight band of his boxers peeks out. When Jimin turns to him, smiling until his eyes form crescents, Hoseok realizes they're low enough that he can see the dip of Jimin's hipbones, too.

"I know you hate tea, but I'm making this for you so you have to drink it." Jimin waves a ladle at him, not intimidating in the least. "It'll help you sleep and it's good for muscle inflammation which you're going to have a lot of after how much you've been practicing these days."

Hoseok finds it hard to say anything. He's a little amazed that it's not Jimin's body that gets him speechless, but the fact that Jimin stayed up late to make him tea when he got home. And that's how he knows he's fucked.

He sits slowly on a stool at the counter, dropping his bag at his feet, and watches Jimin pour the tea into a mug, adding a spoon of honey while humming under his breath. It's then that Hoseok sees it.

"Wait." He sits straighter, leaning over the counter. "Did you get a tattoo?"

Jimin grins sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. A few days ago."

"You didn't tell me!" Jimin slides the mug across the counter, but he ignores it. "Come here and let me see."

Jimin comes around the counter and stands in front of him. A caricature of a black bulletproof vest is inked onto his right hipbone, small lightning bolts on either side. Jimin shifts uncomfortably under Hoseok's attention.

"Stay still," Hoseok says, placing his hands on Jimin's waist to keep him from fidgeting. He traces his eyes over the sharp corners and rounded edges of the tattoo, feels his body start to heat up. It's a beautiful tattoo, but it looks a little irritated, and Hoseok is hit with the sudden urge to brush his lips across the reddened skin.

He glances up, and Jimin is looking down at him. He's hit with sudden awareness of their proximity. He's sitting with Jimin's waist level with his face and his hands on him. The heat flares. He lets go, wondering if Jimin can feel how quick his heart is beating through his fingers.

"It looks really good, Jiminie."

"Thanks. Taehyung hooked me up with someone who did it for pretty cheap. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, I guess."

"I'm impressed. You're not usually the spontaneous one." Hoseok tries to hide the red on his cheeks by burying his face in the mug of tea. It tastes like shit but he drinks it all anyway.

Hoseok knows he has a problem with falling for people too hard, too fast. He knows that. But something about Jimin feels different. Being around Jimin is comfortable. A part of him thinks he would be fine with clamping down on his feelings forever if it meant being near him. Just seeing him might be enough. But Hoseok's not quite over Sejun yet, either. It's never that easy. He still wakes up at night from dreams of Sejun's laugh, and he still goes to the club every weekend to forget the taste of Sejun's lips.

But he can't deny that Jimin is starting to make a place in his heart, too.

He stares at the water stains in the ceiling that night because his thoughts are too loud for sleep. Some time when it's too late to be awake he hears Jimin jerk, breath coming in gasps. Hoseok tenses, waiting, and after a moment soft footsteps near him. He looks up to see Jimin standing there, clutching his pillow, one side of his face still red from sleeping on it, hair standing every which way.

"Nightmare?" Hoseok asks.

"No. I'm not a kid," Jimin sniffs, scooting Hoseok over so he can lie down next to him. "I was cold."

"Liar." He can see Jimin's hands shaking around his pillow. Like last time, Jimin keeps a safe distance between them. This time Hoseok pulls Jimin in until the smaller boy's head is buried in his chest. His body radiates heat and Hoseok shouldn't like it so much, but he does. "What did you dream about?"

Jimin stays quiet. Goosebumps rise where his breath warms Hoseok's skin. When he speaks, it's so soft Hoseok barely hears him. "I was yelling and nobody could hear me."

Hoseok slings one arm around Jimin's waist and threads his free hand through Jimin's hair. Jimin might have bigger muscles than necessary, but in Hoseok's arms he feels awfully fragile. "It's okay, Jiminie. If you were yelling I would hear you anywhere."