UNIVERSE / BTS.

40: stay with me / yoonmin

STAY WITH ME

WORD COUNT 1.3K
OVERVIEW "this ain't love, it's clear to see/but darling, stay with me" ( warning for panic attacks && slight sexual content )

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YOONGI HATED NIGHTS like these. his bed was too cold, his head was too full, his thoughts were too scattered to even think properly. a lonely hour of a lonely night.

there were two options on these nights: jack daniels, paired with cigarettes and misery, wrapping himself in a shroud of bulletproof loneliness until he got out of it. or there was the other option: park jimin. typing a simple nine digits into his telephone and ringing up the younger boy took five minutes, and then less than half an hour later yoongi would be groaning into thin air as jimin's lips, fingers and voice made shudders roll down his body, body pliant against the grey sheets of his bed. jimin was more than happy to come over and give yoongi pleasure; it no strings attached, fooling around whenever yoongi needed some sort of bullet to pierce through his loneliness and make him feel, something, anything.

so, as yoongi stared between his phone and his bottle of golden brown jack daniels whiskey, half empty, he made a choice that was better than drinking, but more regret came with it. he ran a hand through his black hair, a colour he shared with jimin, and took his phone in his hand, biting hard on his lip as his messages with jimin popped up onscreen.

the messages were short, always. exchanges of "come over, i need you" and "please come", photos of boners being grabbed through the thin material of boxers, photos of lips and thighs and all explicit body parts. jimin and yoongi weren't friends, they were barely even acquainted; they'd met through yoongi's friend, jongdae, and the most they knew about each other was explicitly sexual. yoongi knew jimin's thick thighs and freckled back better than he knew what jimin's favourite colour was, and he knew the curve of his spine and the way he moaned, but not what he liked to do in his spare time. it was skin deep and meaningless.

jimin, can you come over?, was the message that yoongi sent, tapping his fingers on the table, eyes closed momentarily before taking a swig of jack. liquid courage, isn't that right? he would need it, that's for sure. he bites hard at his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, gazing at his phone screen when it lights up.

come over? for what, hyung?, was jimin's message, and yoongi rolled his eyes lazily. jimin knew, he knew exactly what, and yoongi didn't bother to type back, his restless leg syndrome kicking in as his right leg began to bounce, tipping his head back. he phone buzzed once again. you gonna respond, yoon?, jimin asked.

you know exactly what, jimin, yoongi typed back, taking the bottle of jack and drinking a long sip. he coughed after; it burned, deep in his chest and in the back of his throat, similar to the way jimin made him feel, the odd warmth that came with alcohol oddly familiar to the young boy. jimin had responded, a quick "i'll be there in five" message popping up that yoongi couldn't be asked to respond to. he just hoisted himself from the chair, jack daniels in hand, and walked to his room.

sure enough, jimin arrived in five minutes or so, and clothing was discarded, belts hastily undone, lips colliding with a strange sort of want and need. there was a ache deep down in yoongi's chest that he didn't know how to get rid of as he let jimin push him into the mattress, their mouths almost fighting rather than kissing; none of it was loving, none of it was what yoongi wanted, and although he knew he should've listened to his therapist and agreed that fucking his problems out wasn't the way to go, he was simply obsessed with going round and round in the same jimin-tainted circle.

shallow compliments and meaningless murmurs left yoongi's kiss swollen lips as jimin pleasured him, and he should've felt bad for giving jimin false hope, but he just couldn't feel anything. nothing but dull, far away pleasure as jimin rode him, making more than enough noise to compensate for yoongi's silence. it was dull, repetitive.

it wasn't until yoongi started crying, not even noticing he was doing so, that jimin stopped his movements, eyes widened with worry. "h-hyung?"

his voice was so innocent, so concerned, it was such a stark difference to the situation they were in. jimin, naked, close to release as he sat on yoongi's length, and yoongi, with silent tears streaming down his face that he didn't even notice.

"hyung, you're scaring me." jimin whispered, and yoongi just shook his head, not able to speak, as he began to sob. "g-get off–" he choked out, and jimin did so, scared of what was happening to yoongi. the older boy curled in on himself, and jimin was afraid he'd hurt him, that he'd done something that sent yoongi into a panic attack, because that seemed to be what was happening. he was so scared, and he didn't know what to do or what he'd done wrong, just watching as the pale boy sobbed so hard jimin feared he'd choke.

yoongi couldn't breathe. while jimin had been on top of him, he'd been hit with something he hadn't had around someone else in months; a panic attack. his chest heaved, and he was hyperaware of everything. he just wanted it all to end, didn't want jimin to see him like this, pathetic and whimpering. he just wanted to die, as he sat there, curled up and crying into his hands, trying so hard to breathe.

"hyung? hyung? i– are you okay?" jimin sounded scared, and his hand was on yoongi's back, trying to be comforting. yoongi blindly reached for him, and he felt himself being pulled into a careful embrace.

"j-jimin–" yoongi could barely speak, his throat closing up. jimin shushed him, telling him to breathe, to just breathe, he was okay. and yoongi tried so hard to believe him, that he was okay, whilst attempting to slow down his breathing, sobbing into jimin's bare shoulder. jimin's short fingers played with yoongi's hair, stroking it comfortingly, and the older managed to slow down his breathing enough to be able to speak.

"i-i'm sorry–" yoongi gasped out, tears still flowing freely, lower lip trembling, head still buried in the crook of jimin's neck, chest heaving. "i'm so so sorry, jimin, i can't believe i did th-that."

"yoon," jimin said reassuringly, carefully stroking yoongi's back with soft hands. he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of yoongi's head; it's oddly loving, unlike anything they'd ever really done, and yoongi can't help but think that the whole situation is particularly uncharacteristic of the both of them. "yoonie, calm down." jimin's voice was calm, comforting. "it's okay, hyung. i forgive you."

"i d-don't know what's w-wrong w-with me," yoongi sniffed, his chest hurting and his head pounding. he lifted his head to look at jimin, whose hand rested on his cheek carefully. "j-jiminie, i-it hurts."

"what hurts, hyung?" jimin questioned. he had decided, somewhere along the line, to help yoongi out with this situation. he didn't like seeing people cry, especially not someone like yoongi, who, whether he liked it or not, he was very much connected to. yoongi bit at his lip, eyes reddened with tears.

"everything, jimin," yoongi sobbed, head bowed. "my depression... fuck, you don't even know i have depression. a-anyway, it's gotten worse recently, a-and my wa-way to resolve it w-was s-sleeping with you. i'm so sorry, jimin."

jimin shook his head, brushing yoongi's tears away with the pad of his thumb, pressing a gentle kiss to yoongi's lips. yoongi sobbed once more, aggressively brushing the tears away with the back of his hand. "j-jiminie," he said quietly, nuzzling his face into jimin's shoulder. "c-can you s-stay with me? pl-please?"

jimin kissed yoongi once again, nodding with a soft smile. "whatever you want, hyung. just... talk to me. tell me what's wrong. i'll stay for as long as you need me."

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whatup it's sam smith's #1 hoe aka me

i love yoonmin they're such soft bbys :( if i could date two members from bts simultaneously i'd choose those two #yoonjacemin

love y'all
– jace