eighteen | yoonmin

seven

BUSAN, SOUTH KOREA
Sunday

the next shoot is by a lake Yoongi had found.

it's the beginning of spring, so he expects there to be some cherry blossom tree there — and surprisingly enough, there is. its petals are shed across the lake, floating delicately on the surface. it litters the entire area—painting the scenery with splotches of light pink and this, this is the kind of aesthetic Yoongi lives for. it's soft, delicate, but yet so gloomy because of the dull color of the lake and grass. it's perfect.

Jimin is clad in the paint-scatch blouse and black shorts they bought days ago. Yoongi sets up near a cherry blossom tree, and Jimin spends this time playing with a stick, prodding it into the water. there are no fish in the lake. just dead, cherry blossom tree petals.

he looks cute in yoongi's big, black bomber jacket. Jimin had forgotten to bring a good, warm jacket.

they start the shoot quickly after that, Jimin posing with the tree. Yoongi wants to give a gloomy feel with these photos—and Jimin captures that perfectly. like he's lost. like a boy who never wants to grow up, but inevitably has to.

Yoongi decided he didn't want to put makeup on Jimin today.

they move to the next area after they're done with the tree. it's close by, near the lake—it's in a field where the grass grows long, yellow flowers abundant.

"it's so pretty here," Jimin says as they approach the area. Yoongi doesn't reply. "so, what do you want to do after? eat some bulgogi again?"

"i'm fine with whatever," Yoongi says. "whatever you want to do."

"okay," Jimin replies, smiling, eyes crinkling. "then, we'll be eating bulgogi. my treat."

"yours? You're my model—and you're helping me with my project—i should be the one paying." says Yoongi. they're already in the middle of the field. just the two of them. a slight, small gust of wind blows in their direction, jimin's bangs swaying ever so slightly. he smiles again, this time gentler.

"it's my treat Yoongi," Jimin says after a while, "let me do this." and Yoongi is just reminded of last night again.

okay, Yoongi thinks.

he tells Jimin to sit down in the grass so they can get started. he whined and pouted because he said his butt might get wet, since it did rain yesterday, and it is early in the morning.

"i have a towel." Yoongi had said.

"you're very prepared for anything, aren't you?" Jimin laughed.

and the shoot is done.

—

CHRISTMAS

Yoongi hasn't spent this much time alone with someone other than himself. it makes him nervous all the goddamn time, especially because this is Jimin, his model, his singer—that dude Hoseok casted—that dude he thought who probably lived as a dumpling in his past life.

he's not lanky like Namjoon, definitely not a rapper, he's not as good as cooking as Seokjin is, not as good looking, his moves aren't as fluid as Hoseok's, but what Yoongi knows unconditionally, is that Jimin always has something to improve on. there is no end to his growth. because, well, he's Jimin. and as sappy as that sounds, it's true. he's the friend Yoongi never knew he needed.

Hoseok had told him in terms of hotness out of ten, Jimin makes a name for himself exactly at 7 with mild acne.

they record an album of songs when they go back to seoul.