Yoonmin Oneshots

voice of your heart

↑↑this one shot in picture form↑↑

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Yoongi is annoyed by Jimin at first. Annoyed by the way the old butler of the family tells him to take good care of him, spend time together and become friends.

At first Yoongi dislikes nothing more than going grocery shopping with the quiet boy or watching him working in the garden, small hands dug deep into the earth, a smear of it crossing his forehead that is visible due to the big flower clip holding the soft brown strands back. Even though he is only 2 years older than Jimin he feels like the younger is in another world, painfully innocent. Yoongi tries to ignore the way his heart hurts when he watches Jimin waving and smiling at the boys that greeted him in a mocking way. "Dumbass." He whispers as he continues walking, listening to the small steps running after him, he doesn't turn to see the confused frown on Jimin's face.

He's 24 now, most of the people his age were at college or working at a prestigious company, but there he was babysitting this boy because he fucked up one to many times and lost his apartment. Who would have said no to that wage and a free room in a fucking mansion?

The blonde boy wasn't the nicest to the brown haired but still, Jimin never stopped smiling. Even if he came to Yoongi's room With a tray full of cookies and 2 cups of hot chocolate and Yoongi took 1 cup and the cookies before slamming the door shut, Jimin still came back. This time maybe with UNO cards or a book. Perhaps the position of their windows is the reason why Yoongi's frozen heart started melting.

From his spot on the windowsill of his room, smoking in the cold night air, he could see Jimin the boy leaned out the window for at least 10 minutes every night, gazing up at the starry sky. His cheeks and nose were red and there were tears in his eyes, his breath rising into the darkness like a small cloud of ice. The boy was pretty. Jimin couldn't see Yoongi though, so he didn't know that the older boy was watching him when he tried to speak. Plump lips parting and has clenching in a few attempts at making a sound. Only small whimpers escaped Jimin's throat, sometimes nothing happened.

Yoongi blew the cigarette smoke out in a deep sigh when the boy started crying again. He didn't like watching the boy cry. Yoongi would never admit it, but he loved the way Jimin smiled, his eyes turning in to crescents and teeth flashing in utmost sincerity.

He was like a fresh breeze of air in a big city full of full people.

The older boy had asked the butler about the night in which Jimin lost his parents.

Apparently the child had lit candles to read in the salon before going to bed and forgot to blow them out. The flames were devastating. Only the servants and the little boy had survived, a fallen pillar had blocked the doors of the bedroom Jimin's parents slept in.

That summer night Yoongi stayed sitting on the garden bench in his pajama pants and black tank top, even after the butler had wished him a goodnight and headed for his room.

He looked up at the stars, wondering if Jimin was doing the same upstairs. So he had lost his voice because of guilt and hurt? How cruel fate could be.

Yoongi doesn't even know when he started thinking about what Jimin's voice might sound like. It was probably soft and bright. It would match the cheerful laugh flashing in Jimin's face whenever he said something amusing.

He wants to hear it.

Yoongi frowned when he first notice this heart skipping a beat when Jimin ran towards him on that windy spring day in the park, a bunch of daisies in his hand.

He had turned around and growled that they go home, trying to ignore the quick beating of his heart when Jimin's small hands grabbed the hem of his shirt.

The boy always did that so why did it feel different this time? Little did Yoongi know that the silent nights on the windowsill, Jimin, him, and the starry sky, had caused something to start blooming in his chest. It was slow but intense.

They had their first kiss sitting on the garden bench, in front of the yellow roses Jimin had planted last spring. Their hands were resting on the old wood and Yoongi had taken the smaller into his, intertwining their fingers while deepening the kiss, his lips curling into a smile at Jimin's soft hums.

The younger boy's hair smelled like fresh apples, his skin like honey. As he felt the soft lips against his own, Yoongi asked himself if he was worthy of loving this boy. He asked himself if he would ever be able to hear Jimin's voice. Yoongi loved Jimin like lonely people loved the stars, wanting to inhale every bit of the other, his skin burning with desire at the slightest touch.

Min Yoongi had never cried as much as he did in the warm autumn night in which he heard the most beautiful voice in earth whispering into his ear. "I..l-love you t-too."