𝔸𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥

forty two

The sun throws its early morning light through cracked curtains, painting the room a wash of glittery golden hues. The world is still. Unmoving. Waiting. Yoongi blinks his tired eyes open and then realizes he's face to face with a fast-asleep angel–His angel, he reminds himself, suddenly feeling giddy.

Jimin snores softly. His mouth hangs slightly open and a trail of drool is crusted down his chin. His eyelashes splay over his cheeks elegantly and his faded pink hair falls messily across his forehead. The fresh white blanket he had pulled from his closet last night is tossed over both of them but Yoongi doesn't miss how Jimin hogs most of it. Chest rising and falling; the pinkette looks incredibly peaceful.

Yoongi is so enamoured with the boy in front of him, he wants to hit himself. A couple months ago, the black-haired man couldn't even imagine falling in love. What he didn't know was that he already had. And with the man he was supposed to hate most, for goodness sake. The elder reaches out and pushes the youngers hair out of the way so he can see the rest of his face. His eyebrows are soft and well-kept. Jimin stirs at this action, hand coming up to rub at his eyes; yawning wide.

"Good morning, Petal, did you rest well?" Yoongi removes his hand, watching as bouncy locks fall back into place. Jimin wipes his chin before sitting up slightly. He groans whilst stretching his arms out to the side. Perhaps the contents of last night slip back into his brain because then he's breaking out into a massive smile. "Yes, best sleep of my life, I think." Jimin says, scooting a little closer to Yoongi and resting his head on the elder's shoulder. Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin, embracing him in a cosy, loose hug. "How 'bout you?" The younger asks. "Yeah, I had a good sleep, too."

They stay like that for a while, just enjoying each other's warmth, until Yoongi looks over to the alarm clock on Jimins bedside table and he sees that he's meant to open his studio in thirty minutes. "I have to open the studio today." He says, the real meaning of his words: we should get up now. Jimin wants to stay in this moment forever but he obliges anyway, sitting up fully-Yoongi follows suit.

The pinkette stretches again before hopping off the bed. "Do you reckon I'll be able to take a bus back home, get ready and run to the studio all in thirty minutes? I have a client coming in at opening time and I don't wanna leave them in the cold." Jimin gives Yoongi a weird look. "Why would you go home?" Yoongi returns the look. "Because none of my shit is here?" "I have shit that you can use. Clothes, a brand new tooth br–Oh my god."

During their little argument, Jimin had turned toward the mirror. "What?" Yoongi asks, concern tinging the edge of his voice as he stands up and makes his way toward where the younger is standing. "What am I meant to do about this!?" Yoongi feels his face heat up when Jimin turns around and gestures toward his neck. Dark, dark purple and red hickeys splay obscenely across the expanse of his skin, they look almost painful. What makes the whole ordeal even worse is the fact that in Yoongis arousal-induced haze, he had kept the bruises within the ebony lines of the flower tattoo, making it look like it was coloured.

("Hey," he whispers, panting lightly "Your tattoo healed up nicely." And then he snorts, suddenly finding something funny. "Looks unfinished, though – with only the outline. Kinda like a colouring book.")

Jimin gasps. "You did this on purpose!" He accuses. "What? No, I didn't! Well, I mean, maybe in the moment but–" "You're such an asshole!" The younger turns back around to inspect his neck in the mirror, rubbing at the bruises as if willing them to disappear; they don't budge. "No, baby–I'm sorry." Yoongi wraps his arms around Jimin's waist, placing his head on his shoulder. They make eye contact in the mirror and something softens in the pinkette.

"It's..fine. I'll just ask Tae if I can borrow one of his turtlenecks."

–

"Nope! They're all in the wash. Also, if we don't leave now, we're gonna be late."

–

Jimin had lent Yoongi a black top with blue jeans – the top is a little tight and the jeans are a bit loose, but other than that they're mostly the same size. Jimin wears a collared shirt in hopes of covering the hickeys but they wrap themselves tightly and brightly around his neck. Like black mould, unwilling to be scrubbed away.

They walk hand in hand down the street, hearts fluttering away like wings of nervous butterflies. Taehyung whines about feeling left out so Jimin offers him his other hand and the ocean-haired boy takes it enthusiastically, Yoongi just rolls his eyes.

When they arrive, Jungkook is standing outside the studio with a nervous look on his face. "Hyung!" He shouts when he catches a glance of Yoongi, expression melting away into a mix of relief and anger. He dashes rather dangerously across the street to confront the elder.

"Where the hell were you!? Me and Namjoon Hyung were worried sick!" Yoongi thinks Jungkook is exaggerating, Namjoon doesn't really start to worry until day three of not showing up. "I'm sorry, I forgot to shoot you a text. I slept at Jimin's." He explains. "Yeah, you also slept with Jimin." Taehyung snorts like it's the funniest thing in the world, earning himself a slap to the back of the head from a flushed pinkette.

Jungkooks doe eyes flit back and forth between the couple, blush growing deeper after seeing the bruises that adorn Jimin's neck. "You guys are gross! Hyung, just come to the studio!"

–

"Do-yun. You're having second thoughts, why?"

"I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"About Him."