Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

thirty

"Do you want some hot chocolate Yoongi hyung?" Jimin's drawled, lethargic voice called from the kitchen, and Yoongi looked up from his place on the carpeted floor. His cheek was currently squished against the soft fabric of one of the large pillows that the younger boy had thrown down, his eyelids casting half shadows over his slivered vision. He breathed out slowly through his nose, and his body sunk closer to the solid surface beneath his sprawled out body.

He didn't know how Jimin had momentarily forgotten that he wouldn't be able to answer-not because his mouth was stuck in a sleepy, duck like pout, and all of his words would come out slurred if he were to speak, but because he literally could not speak. But he knew that the boy would rush in soon to correct his mistake, and Yoongi didn't feel like lifting himself from his comfortable position to save him the effort.

"Oh! Sorry hyung!"

Just as he'd expected, a blob of sunny yellow flashed in the corner of his eyes. Jimin was standing at the doorway of the living room, an apologetic frown drooping at the corners of his lips. "I forgot. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Yoongi cut him off with a lazy smile. He shook his head against his pillow, and wove away his concerns with a half hearted flap of his hand.

"Oh." Jimin hummed, and fondness laden in hesitance tugged at his features.

Yoongi beckoned to him, once again, finding an inherent dislike for the look of reluctance and anxiety still clinging for dear life to his figure. He rolled over so that he could prop himself up on his elbows, and his disheveled bangs flopped ungracefully across his forehead, and caught on his wilted lashes.

Jimin let out a honeydew giggle.

Yoongi shifted once Jimin obliged his wishes, and dropped to his knees. He crawled underneath the sheet of thick blankets the two had formed earlier that evening, when Jimin had insisted on making a blanket fort. Soon after his trailing limbs followed, his sweet scent engulfed Yoongi once again, serving to further lull his heartbeat into a state of idle tranquility. His shimmering redolence seemed to have caught in his seams, forever laced in his memory, and threaded in everything he touched.

Jimin collapsed next to him, pressing their soft shoulders together until both of their warmth sunk through their sweaters. Another breathy giggle left him, and he turned to look at Yoongi through crescent shaped eyes.

"Why'd you ask for me hyung? I still need to order our food."

Yoongi didn't reply. Instead, he touched his forehead to the bend of Jimin's inviting shoulder with a gentle sigh. He felt Jimin's laughter before he heard it, tinkling in his ears. Seeping fuchsia flooded his chest cavity.

"Did you just wanna be close to me?" He teased, and the humor layering his tone made it clear that he didn't think his assumption was correct. But Yoongi didn't rebut the comment with a sarcastic insult that would earn him the title of "meanie," and simply nuzzled his face further into the knitted fabric of Jimin's sweater.

"A-ah..." Jimin choked out a flustered bubble of static laughter. "Are you sleepy hyung? We can watch the movie some other time..."

He rubbed his forehead against the younger one last time before lifting his chin. He was met with rapidly blinking eyes and shaded irises.

Not sleepy, he told him, though his movements were slow and heavy. I'm just low energy. I'm always low energy.

"Ah," Jimin murmured. He nibbled on his bottom lip in thought. "Well, eat well hyung."

Eat well?

"Seohyun said that there was nothing as good for the soul as good food, glorious food," Jimin elaborated, kicking his feet a little. "I think that's why she went out of her way to make such complicated meals for me when I first started living with her."