in bloom | yoonmin

petals.

❀

His mind swerves out of control like a car with a drunk driver behind its wheel, trying its hardest to focus on two things - running through the cracked, empty streets, and taking in gulps of hot, humid air.

It feels like he's been running like this for hours, and he can feel his rapid pulse in his head, along with the sweat dripping down his flushed face. Of course this would happen to him on a day like this.

Thankfully, just as he arrives at the point where he's worried his head might pop like a balloon, he also arrives at the small flower shop, skidding to a stop in front of the old, dark green door with its golden knob.

Panting, he glances inside to see if Yoongi is visible, but to his dismay, he only sees the dozens of his beautiful arrangements, teasing him with their bright colors.

But that's okay. Yoongi's probably sitting in the back room by himself, like he used to before they became friends. He can just call out to him.

His hand grips the doorknob, and when he pulls the door open, he does so with enough force to make it shake in protest when he throws it shut again.

"Yoon?" he calls out, voice becoming soft in an instant. His sudden shift in tone surprises him.

He waits there, wiping the sweat off of his forehead and stepping in his place anxiously as he tries to collect his scattered thoughts. If he doesn't, he's afraid that he might get upset, that he might snap at Yoongi, so it's best if he tries to tame his temper before he talks to him.

After a long couple of minutes, however, Jimin has to come to terms with the fact that Yoongi still hasn't emerged to greet him, and probably isn't going to.

Still, he tries again - just in case. "Yoon?" he repeats, but this time, it's significantly quieter, and he approaches the counter cautiously.

Waiting. More waiting. A little bit more waiting. And then, when almost another full minute passes and he hears no familiar creak of a hidden computer chair, Jimin finally accepts that Yoongi's probably just asleep.

He tiptoes to the best of his ability, making his way to the tabooed realm that is the other side of the counter. Fooling with his keys in his pocket subconsciously, he plants his feet in front of the faded mauve curtain.

It feels so weird to be back here. In the past two months or so, he's gotten so used to watching Yoongi do his thing from the customer's side, never wondering what it'd be like to see things through the quiet florist's eyes.

Okay, he says to himself in his head. Just go on back there. He won't mind. We're friends, right?

Taking another deep breath and feeling his heartbeat pick back up for a reason that's beyond him, Jimin runs his fingers down the purple fabric of Yoongi's curtain and, ever so slowly, pulls it to the side.

Unsurprisingly, he was right. Yoongi is not only sat there awkwardly in his computer chair, fast asleep, but dammit, he's wearing another one of those huge sweaters that make him look so tiny and precious.

Not only that, but his lips are parted slightly, so his peaceful breaths can be heard echoing in the small room, and his black hair falls over his face in the absolute most adorable way possible.

Jimin really wants death. His poor heart can't take this right now.

And somehow, it takes that moment of him feeling like he has to keel over and let his soul leave him to finally make him realize something.

He likes Yoongi.

He likes him, like, a lot.

And now that it's clicked, it seems like the most obvious, slap-across-the-face type thing in the world. In fact, he's kind of beating himself up for being so oblivious.