Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

thirty two

Yoongi cried at the end of the movie.

It was subtle, and the elder hid it well. So well in fact that Jimin nearly missed it, nearly didn't catch the sight of moonlight crystals splashing watercolor cyan blue across his quivering cheeks. He hid his pinched face in his arms, turning away from the rolling credits, and for a few moments, Jimin thought he was simply processing the end of the movie, just as he had done when he'd first seen the film.

But then his ears caught the sound of a kitten like sniffle. Soft and muffled by thick, knitted fabric.

And then another.

And another.

"Hyung, are you crying?" He breathed, a mash of careful uncertainty and gentle amusement coloring his flower petal tone.

Yoongi cringed lightly at the spot on accusation, and, though there was no use in denying it, furiously shook his head. Trembling shoulders and a tiny, aching form. Even without seeing his face, Jimin knew that he was crying, silently and softly in the way one did when their heart was so touched by something that there was nothing else to do. Even knowing that Yoongi wasn't weeping out of sadness or misery, but rather because of a movie that he'd loved, Jimin didn't like seeing it. He didn't like watching Yoongi cry, and especially didn't like that he was denying it, hiding his eyes away and attempting to hold pools of brimming tears in his palms.

He found himself reaching for his thin wrists before he could mull over his actions, felt the warmth of his pulse beneath his lukewarm flesh before he could process that he was touching him again, perhaps even crossing a boundary that Yoongi wasn't ready for him to know of yet. He couldn't consider the fact that Yoongi might not want him to see the proof of his thrumming chest and soft affection painting his cheeks in streaks of silver. He was just...he wanted to see him. He wanted to see his face, and wipe away his tears just as Yoongi had done for him.

And Yoongi quietly let him.

Jimin's skin turned to rose gold under his crystal sky gaze. Sleepy, ocean eyes batting pieces of moonbeams off the tips of his ebony lashes.

"Hyung..." The word still tasted of hot chocolate, breathed in a soft swirl of fondness. Yoongi blinked slowly, and a warm teardrop slipped down the slope of his delicate face, and splashed upon the back of Jimin's hand.

Jimin's heart stuttered, a broken record of a song he hadn't quite figured out yet.

Would...you look at that? His fingers danced with a slowness that could have coaxed Jimin into a quiet, loving sleep. His grace with the language was something beautiful, something Jimin didn't have words for. It made him want to hold his hands, feel every word on his fingertips as he made it.

You made me cry. Fuck you Park Jimin.

That startled a laugh out of him. Yoongi was glaring at him through narrowed eyes and pools for irises, but there was nothing but endless tenderness consuming him in blazes of affection.

His fingers tingled and twitched, buzzing warm with all of Yoongi's attention. And he was reaching for him, caution slowing his frail movements, touching his sapphire skin. His cheeks were wet and stained deep azure, and they burned with velvet warmth under his hesitant touch. His fingertips stained with cobalt blue dye with every butterfly brush across his lily flesh. Yoongi's eyelids dipped, and he pressed into Jimin's soft contact, craving more of his gentle care, something he loved, and something he had missed.

"You liked the movie?" Jimin asked, oh so quietly. He felt a little apprehensive, afraid that he may have forced Yoongi to sit through something he hated. His heart burned at the unwelcome thought.