When you're in love all the lines get blurred ( YoonMin / Jimin - Yoongi / BTS )

Chapter 7

Jimin barges in, half knocking as he sort-of smacks the door a couple times before pushing in. The room is dark, and when Jimin flips on the light switch next to the doorway, he sees a heavy black sheet pinned over the window and Yoongi in nothing but a pair of khaki shorts stretched out in bed. He groans when the lights come on, pulling a thick pillow over his face while groaning lowly.

“What the fuck?” it’s muffled, but Yoongi says it loud enough that Jimin can still hear him through the barrier. Yoongi nudges the pillow up so only his mouth is visible, and tells Jimin, “Just because we’re fake boyfriends doesn’t mean you have free reign!”

Jimin ignores Yoongi. He hasn’t let the older boy push him around in years – not that Yoongi has ever really actually tried to push him around, Jimin realizes, as he thinks about it – but he’s not going to let him start now. “Were you sleeping?” He asks, sliding onto the end of Yoongi’s bed until his back hits the wall. Yoongi tries to kick at him a few times, but he’s not quite tall enough, his heel grazing Jimin’s thigh only once before he gives up.

“What does it fucking look like I was doing?” Yoongi grumbles from under the pillow, lifting it enough to peer at Jimin with one half-open eye.

“It’s six,” Jimin informs him, and Yoongi shoves against his headboard so his body moves down, feet nearly knocking Jimin’s legs back off the edge of the bed.

“I work nights, asshole.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a job,” Jimin says, genuinely surprised, watching as Yoongi, muttering about how annoying Jimin is the whole time, comes out from under his pillow to sit up. He crosses his legs, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his hands around his jaw to hold up his head, watching Jimin.

“What did you think I do all day?” Yoongi sounds offended.

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, “nothing?”

“Ridiculous,” Yoongi breathes out, exasperated, “What are you even doing here?”

“I thought we should practice!”

“Practice what? It’s not that hard. I meet your mom. I say I’m your boyfriend. She believes you’re gay. Then, we break up in a month, just like you want,” Yoongi mumbles falling back against the pile of pillows at the head of his bed with a soft sigh once he finishes speaking.

“Yeah, but, we gotta be realistic, we should, like, practice holding hands, or something,” Jimin suggests.

“What?” Yoongi props his head up so Jimin can see the incredulous expression he’s wearing. He snorts, “Who practicesholding hands?”

“People who are trying to pull off a heist,” that makes Yoongi actually laugh, instead of that obnoxious, sarcastic little snort Jimin always hears from him.

“It’s not a goddamn heist. We’re just pretending to date. Holding hands is not that complicated. It doesn’t need practice,” Yoongi tells him.

“Yeah, but, I’ve never done it, what if I mess up?” Jimin doesn’t mean to sound so nervous. He doesn’t want Yoongi to know how worried he really is about this; his weird anxiety surrounding his first relationship. It’s a fake relationship, but it’s still the closest Jimin has ever gotten. He doesn’t want to mess anything up, even with a boy he doesn’t like.

“You’re not gonna mess up,” Yoongi promises, soft and kind, the way he gets whenever Jimin seems stressed. He sits back up and crawls the few feet from his end of the bed to Jimin’s, settling back down with his back to the wall next to Jimin, their shoulders pressing together. Yoongi grabs Jimin’s wrist, dragging his hand out of his lap, bringing it to rest along where their thighs are touching. He slips his hand down, sliding his palm gently across Jimin’s until his is covered by Yoongi’s, locking their fingers together. Jimin pointedly doesn’t think about the way Yoongi’s fingers slot perfectly into place between his, or the pleasant pressure of Yoongi’s thumb swiping across his knuckles, “See? Easy.”