YoonMin Stories

3rd

Seesaw (yoonmin)

By: euphoric_papillion

 

He’s trying. He really is. But he can’t help it when the exhaustion tugs at the base of his foot, he can’t help the sharp words that jab out when Jimin harmlessly points out his little mistakes. He can’t help it when he finds himself reminiscing over what their relationship used to be. It’s not until the drops of tears that fall, that he realizes the weight of his lashings. He’s getting tired. The space which used to balance each other, had become a game; a game to comfort each other with concealed words. With each dropping weight, the balance lessened. The air moulded into thick, unbreathable tension. Their fingers could no longer connect through it, only sharp words slicing through. 

Jimin peered up from the T.V as Yoongi walked in and dropped his bag. 

No pleasant, or unpleasant greetings were exchanged and he walked off to freshen up. Jimin silently returned his eyes to the movie, contemplating, and then switching it off to follow Yoongi. After all, they weren't fighting. If one didn’t greet the other, the other could easily rectify the situation. He stood in the hallway from the washroom watching the other dry his face and with a plastered smile and as much energy he could muster, “Hey!”

“I heard you turned down the offer from Paris Opera.” his smile dropped and frown replaced it in the sudden spring. 

“Well, yes?” Jimin questioned, struggling to maintain eye contact with the piercing stare. He didn’t bother asking how he had known when he had made sure to not let him find out. It was definitely not a conversation he had expected to have so suddenly, “Well, I mean it’s in Paris, hyung, and we work in Seoul.”

“ I work in Seoul.” Yoongi stressed, tone coming off frustrated and tired despite their short conversation, “You’re a dancer, Jimin. You study here and you can study there. You didn’t even tell me! This is- This is a massive chance and you’re going to let it go all for” his finger swished around pointing between them both, “this?”

Now Jimin looked slightly hurt but Yoongi stood his ground, eyes as stoic as ever. Everything was still, and Jimin thinned his lips shut. Eyes stinging slightly. It hadn’t been the easiest decision after all, but he had made it. He had made it after days of weighing the options, ultimately choosing Yoongi over any opportunity. Yoongi was his salvation, and he could be an inopportune dancer if it meant he could stay by him. Now to be aggressively questioned about it by the same person he lost it all for, it hurt more than the usual jabbers. Tears burned harder as he replayed his fantasies of Yoongi embracing him in joy after learning he would stay, after a little egging. 

He mimicked the finger motions between them and choked out, “This,” he looked at Yoongi’s unreadable expression, desperate to have his side understood, “is a relationship that saved me during my hardest times. You did. This holds just as much importance to me as any dream of mine.”

“You’re mistaking this relationship for what it used to be.” He replied, inaudible hissing because as soon as he slipped the words, he knew they were thorns. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look at the damage his words had caused. He knew if he looked, his resolve would break. No more reassurances, no more consolation. 

It’s time to put an end to this repeated game.

 “You and I both know this is not what it used to be. You’re holding on because of me and I am for you.”

“Look at my fucking eyes, hyung.” he heard the furious, yet hurt and teary voice and shifted his eyes to him, regretting it immediately; Jimin’s face betrayed his tone of anger, desperate and broken, tears streaming. He angrily wiped away the tears and stalked towards him in a flash to hold his arm. Yoongi didn’t flinch nor move, heart beating impossibly loud, “You don’t mean that.” He sobbed, clinging to the arm like a child, “Please.. Tell me you don’t mean that.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you give up your dream, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin cried harder. He knew it was no longer about his schooling, it was not about the situation. It was about their never-ending quarrels and unfinished conversations. It was about the nights Yoongi couldn’t leave work to go to the cafe they had promised to meet every second thursday. It was about the days Jimin spent sleeping in his dance studio, knowing no one would be home anyway. 

His arms weakened and dropped. The weight lifted off of Yoongi’s arm.

“Go.” He turned and left.

Yoongi sat alone at the bottom, glancing up at the empty seat