Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

twenty seven

Yoongi sat cross legged atop the counter as Jimin busied himself with breakfast preparations. He hadn't brought his book along with him, so essentially, he was just watching Jimin cook. But the experience wasn't as boring as one may have expected. Yoongi didn't necessarily like cooking. He had nothing against it, and when he was younger, he used to love it. But as an adult, he only cooked when he absolutely had to. Cooking peacefully, and feeling completely safe and trusting of himself and his environment was just another pretty fantasy that had been shattered and ripped apart years ago.

However, watching Jimin cook was a strangely soothing experience.

He bobbed his knees up and down as he studied the younger boy.

He had put on his aunt's apron again, and the contrast of the soft yellow against his adorable pajamas in itself lulled Yoongi's formerly worried heart into a quiet, even rhythm. But the sunlight filtering through the canary curtains, and casting shimmering shadows over both the flower petals, and Jimin's gentle face, drawn in concentration, was enough to almost relax Yoongi completely. Everything about him was soft, and the golden light caressing his features made Yoongi want to touch him. Nothing creepy. Just run his fingertips along those plush cheeks, and his sloping jaw.

He was so pretty.

As more time passed, Jimin grew a little more comfortable under Yoongi's undivided attention, and the unfamiliar compliments he randomly gave him, and began to loosen up, assuming his normal behavior in the kitchen. He swayed his hips with each light stride across the room, humming quiet songs beneath his breath in that gorgeous voice of his. Breathy, honey gold, and pouring into him in waves of endless warmth, of loving affection.

He'd pinned his locks back with the hairpins Seohyun used to use, and Yoongi could see a coffee freckle or two sprinkling his forehead. He had never noticed those before.

"I feel you'll disappear...To a far off place...
I always miss you...miss you..."

That's Through the Night, by IU, right?

Jimin halted, gauging his lips together in surprise. He spun around, a mixing bowl full of pancake batter between his arms.

"You know it? I thought you didn't listen to music."

Much music flower, Yoongi corrected, and, internally, he was a little shocked that the pet name flowed from his fingers so easily. It came naturally, without thought. And I...I may have lied a little bit.

Jimin's nose crinkled. "What do you mean?"

I don't listen to much music anymore, he explained, tilting his head to the side, and shoving away the flash of anxiety that attempted to resurface at the subject. But when I was younger, it was everything to me. The only thing that kept me sane. Jin and I used to go to the record store all the time, just to hang out. And for my birthday, he would get me a few, and let me listen to them at his house since I didn't have a record player. I...I loved it.

A soft melody thrummed beneath Jimin's throat, a strangely starstruck glaze lathering the surface of his wandering eyes. He drummed his fingertips against the side of the bowl. "Mm...what...what happened?"

Yoongi thought he might ask that question. It was part of the reason why he'd refrained from saying anything on the matter of music for so long, why he failed to mention that he used to love it, but these days, knew no new artists unless Jin or Seohyun had told him about one, nor any new songs. Some nights, after pulling himself out of the broken depths of his own sickened head-the memories that tortured him on repeat, under a darkened sky that would drown him and when no one was around to listen for his swallowed pleas anymore-he would recall the songs of his childhood. He could not soothe himself with anything else. He  would mumble warbled, half forgotten lyrics through dry, salt stained lips, and beg for it all to leave him.