summary: a small canon compliant text about Jimin's small thoughts that can overwhelm once brought to the surface.
( I wrote this about a year ago, so it isn't one of my best)
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The sound of bored k-pop idols echoed through the practice room, their insignificant activities making their day go quicker. They were being childish in their endeavours and it was those small moments that they felt a little normal again.
Jimin smiled from his position on the floor, back pressed against the cold glass of the mirror, soothing his exhausted body after a day’s dance practise. His sweat from practice had now left him cold, which had forced the man to put on a tatty but comfortable jumper he had used since debut. He was too tired right now to join the rest of the member's antics, watching them instead.
The constant comfort of his boyfriend’s warmth remained to his left, his steady breathing an outcome from the concentration of his phone. Jimin and Yoongi were never too touchy with each other in public, nor overly affectionate, as if not to stir the dynamic of the group. But they were a couple and that meant that some things were always going to be different. For instance, Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other was normal, other members wouldn’t hesitate or think, it was a platonic action. But the arm draped lightly around Jimin’s waist was a much more romantic gesture. Or it was for Jimin. Yoongi was so used to being cold and blunt to the outside world that things like that were foreign to him. But he loved Jimin. So he wanted to care for Jimin in any way he could.
“Who do you think would win out of the two smallest?” Jimin heard Taehyung speak, making him drift back into the room and pay attention to his bandmates. Yoongi still hadn’t looked up from his phone, arm still around Jimin like an instinct. Jimin then noticed that all eyes were on them, looking expectantly. Jimin could feel the red blooming on his cheeks.
“What?” Was his eloquent response.
Jeongguk rolled down his sleeves after winning almost every arm wrestle and looked at the couple with a pointed look.
“You and Yoongi Hyung are both tiny, we’re wondering if either of you would win in an arm wrestle,” Jeongguk told them. Yoongi was looking up now, an unimpressed look on his face.
“Jimin wouldn’t win.”
“He could, but not against you Gukkie, no one can beat you.”
“I’m not tiny, I’m taller than Yoongi,” Jimin boasted proudly, earning a small nudge in the side from his boyfriend but the arm remaining there all the same. He knew that the comment didn’t bother his boyfriend anyway, he was much less concerned about height these days.
“No, you’re not. You wear high soles Jiminie, very high,” Seokjin sat crossed-legged on the floor, looking at the shoes Jimin was wearing which the smaller refused to acknowledge he had on. Jimin pouted, an action he did when there was no way out of a conversation or task. Seokjin cooed at him patronisingly, and he felt a little offended. Not properly, for he knew that if he told his members that he felt insecure about his height and how he would be perceived by others they would all support him and love him. But there was more to him than his height. Besides, he wasn’t that short. It was inconvenient all of his bandmates were tall. He knew he shouldn’t care. Because what did height symbolise? Nothing. He couldn’t change his height. Yet it was still stuck in a society and ideals men should be tall and broad. His members mentioned it because the comments meant nothing to them, they didn’t seem him as less of a man. So how come he still felt weak? He didn’t want to admit that his height or anything ‘unmanly’ about him made him feel less of a man.
“Yoongi, tell them to stop,” He resorted to his last source of comfort, leaning into Yoongi and feeling the embrace his boyfriend let him have today in front of their friends.
