kpop and chill → yoonmin

eighteen

this is shit read at your own risk
—

Jimin walked Yoongi outside the front door the next morning, hoping and praying that his mom would stay in the kitchen for just a second longer, because the purple bruise on his neck wasn't exactly inconspicuous. As soon as Jimin shut the front door behind them, Yoongi spun on his heel and pressed the younger boy against it.

Jimin squeaked in surprise, but Yoongi just wrapped his arms around the younger and hugged him. Jimin hugged him back, and he could feel Yoongi's breath on his neck. "You smell nice. Keep buying this laundry detergent."

"Yoongi, this is your shirt." Jimin said. Yoongi pulled back from the embrace, and sure enough, the shirt Jimin had thrown on that morning was in fact Yoongi's, which meant the fabric engulfed the smaller boy. Yoongi smiled and pulled the shirt back onto Jimin's shoulder, where it had been falling off due to the size.

"Damn, I smell good. Why don't you ever compliment me on my smell?" Yoongi asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin rolled his eyes and pushed Yoongi's shoulder.

"Go home, weirdo," Jimin said. Yoongi huffed and started down the driveway to his car, but halfway there he stopped in his tracks. Yoongi turned around and ran back towards the house until he was toe to toe with Jimin. He kissed his boyfriend once on the lips before running back to his car, leaving Jimin a flustered, blushing mess.

Due to the sudden flurry of butterflies in his stomach, Jimin had completely forgotten about the hickey on his neck, and the very observant mother to which he was related. So as soon as he stepped back in the doorway, Mrs. Park set upon him like a hawk to a disregarded carcass.

"Jimin, I think we need to talk. Come sit with me in the kitchen." Instead of letting Jimin follow her, Mrs. Park grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the kitchen, ignoring his loud whines of protest.

Jimin sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his ear and frowning at his mother, who held a spatula in her hand like a weapon. Mr. Park walked into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep out of eyes to see his wife staring down his son, looking ready to kill him.

"What's up?" Mr. Park asked, sitting down next to Jimin. He looked over at his son, who just shrugged, still rubbing his ear.

"I have no clue, but I'm scared." Jimin whispered. Mrs. Park rolled her eyes and set the spatula on the counter before walking over to Jimin and crossing her arms.

"Now, Jimin, I know you're eighteen, and that you're going to have, oh how do I put this? Desires, but—"

Jimin slammed his hands over his ears and began to shout loudly. Mrs. Park grabbed his hands away from Jimin's ears and held them away from his face. "Jimin, we need to have this conversation if you're going to be having sex—"

Jimin cut his mother off by yelling, "No! No, no, mom you've got it all wrong! We didn't do anything!" Mrs. Park looks at her son skeptically, and Jimin remembers the hickey that Yoongi had left on him. "I mean well, I didn't do anything—"

"Yoongi raped you? Oh, Jimin you have to—"

"No, mom! He didn't rape me!" Jimin pulled at his hair in frustration, trying to keep the blush off his cheeks. "I just– he just, we didn't do anything, okay?"

Mrs. Park stared at Jimin blankly, and Jimin prayed he wasn't going to have to spell out to her what happened. Thankfully, Mr. Park stepped in just as Mrs. Park was opening her mouth to ask for more clarification.

"Sweetheart, give the kid a break." Mr. Park turned to Jimin and laid his hands flat on the table, something he did when he was being serious. Jimin turned his attention towards his father and pulled Yoongi's shirt sleeves down over his hands. "As for you, if you ever do have sex, firstly, make sure we aren't home, and secondly, please use protection. I know you can't get pregnant but you can get diseases, trust me."

"What do you mean by trust me?" Mrs. Park asked, picking her spatula back up. Mr. Park licked his lips nervously and looked back at Jimin.

"I've already said too much, but if you ever need anything, we keep things like that on the top shelf of the closet in the hallway. You may not be able to reach them, but you can always get a chair or something." Jimin scoffed at his fathers dig at his height, but nods anyhow. He stood up and was about to run back to his room, when his dad stopped him for one final rid but of information. "And to get rid of hickeys, put a spoon in the freezer and after its cold press the back of it to your neck."

"Thanks, dad." Jimin looked at his mother, who seemed to still be mad over the trust me. Jimin saluted his father, "and good luck."

"He's going to need it." Mrs. Park said. Jimin ran up to his room before he could hear anything further.