Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

thirty five

Yoongi wouldn't stop holding him.

Jimin wasn't complaining. His hyung's newfound clinginess was frankly quite adorable, and though at times, it could be inconvenient, he wouldn't dream of telling the older to let him go. He didn't mind that Yoongi's fingers seemed permanently glued to his skin, or that he seemed to possess a gravitational pull that kept the man tucked into his side. He just didn't like that his frantic touches were born from pure, unadulterated fear, and he wished he could melt away the trembles wracking his frame, chase away the demons clinging to him with wild desperation, sucking the life from his blood.

Walking out of the building, he could feel the rapid fire pounding of Yoongi's heart against his side. It slammed so fiercely against his chest, resonating within Jimin's own bones. Beating wildly out of terror, begging for an escape.

When they settled back into the car, Jimin had to figure out how Yoongi could hold onto him without causing him to crash the vehicle. He ended up placing Yoongi's clammy hand on his knee, and his cold fingers immediately curled into the fabric of his leggings. He was still trembling, still a little lost, and he couldn't sign when he was clinging to Jimin. So, the blonde played his happy song playlist, singing along goofily an ridiculously in an attempt to put him at ease. He managed to tempt a few, silent giggles out of his shivering lips, and though he held him just as tightly, and folded himself into the tiniest being, determined not to take up too much space, it was good enough for Jimin.

When they arrived, the town square was only relatively crowded, seeing as it was a weekday and most kids were at school and adults at work. There was only a small scattering of cars in the lot, and finding a spot to park was a pretty easy and fast process. The car settled with a soft bump, and Yoongi's breath audibly hitched. He didn't look quite as harrowed, which was a good sign. Jimin could feel that he was a little more present in the focus of his gaze and the firm clasp on his leggings.

His reluctant stare traveled over Jimin's face, all pretty almond browns swimming with mahogany. He was frighteningly devoid of color, missing that soft flush. Even his doll like lips seemed thinner and pale.

Oh, hyung...

It was in this moment that Jimin wished he had something to call Yoongi. Something half as sweet as flower was. He wished his comfort could bring Yoongi's brightness back.

"You know..." He hummed, pressing a palm to the back of his hand. He could feel Yoongi's blood thundering beneath his soft contact. "You can always tell me if you're not comfortable...if you're scared...if you just wanna go home. Don't hesitate. You know I'll drop everything if you...aren't comfortable."

Yoongi smiled weakly, a quiet warmth in his expression. He slipped his fingers away, very reluctantly, and formed slow, shaking movements.

Thank you. I'll keep that in mind. But I'm okay. I'll be okay.

Jimin's brows drew to a conflicted knot. he desperately wanted to believe him, but he also didn't want to assume the best of things when it was entirely possible that Yoongi was lying for his benefit.

Yoongi seemed to sense this, and he tilted his head in such a kitten like manner, some kind of soft wonder behind his expression. It sent Jimin's heart whirling.

Flower, he soothed, despite the remaining twitch of his hands. You're sweet to worry. But I'll be okay. I want to be...okay. And I know that's not my choice, but...His hands trailed, flapping aimlessly between them. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, a stifled frustration bubbling beneath his skin. He wished that he wasn't such a mess. He couldn't even get a thought out.