Yoonmin Oneshots

warm hearts

[Not my story]

His head spins just like the swivel chair he is glued to and he leans back a little further, letting his sore back hit the back rest. The pen falls on the table with a soft thud, his hand falling to the side of his body.

The room is silent except for the whirring of the air conditioning. He glances across to see a huddled figure over at the desktop, eyes squinted and fingers flying over the keyboard. If it was any other day he would have walked over and chided him for his bad posture but he decides to let it go, just for today.

Jimin attempts to gather his thoughts by staring at the words scribbled across the notepad. He tries to match the words in his head to the melody he already memorized but somehow they don’t roll off his tongue the way he wants them to. They feel awkward, almost gawky.

The pen in his hand trembles in the air as he tightens his grip on it. He almost shouts out loud but controls himself when he sees the person across him focusing on the bright screen. He simply sighs and puts down his pen softly before getting up.

“I’m heading out for a while. Do you need anything?” he asks Yoongi while grabbing his jacket. Yoongi looks up from his cup of coffee and Jimin can see him reading his expression, almost as if he’s deciphering how Jimin is feeling. It’s a habit of his. He secretly worries a lot about the younger members but Jimin has picked up that he worries too much for him.

“Get me a pack of cigarettes,” he deadpans and turns his attention back to whatever he was working on. He doesn’t notice the way Jimin knits his brows and purses his lips together.

“I don’t like you smoking…”

“…I’m tired Jimin,” Yoongi interjects without even giving the younger a chance to dissuade him.

“Fine,” he replies icily and walks out of the room without even turning around once. He really hates it when Yoongi decides to turn to nicotine to feel better.

As if he remembered something, Yoongi suddenly shouts, “Remember to bring an umbrella! The weather forecast said-” but his voice trails off before he can finish his sentence when he realises Jimin is already gone.

The wind howls as soon as Jimin steps outside and he wraps his jacket tighter around himself. He walks towards the direction of the convenience store around the corner, still thinking about the lyrics earlier.

Why can’t he do anything right? It’s just writing lyrics; it’s not like Yoongi is asking him to compose a whole song from scratch. There’s this terrible void in his heart because he knows he’s incapable of helping Yoongi out. He can’t even do a simple thing like writing lyrics. He’s only slowing down the progress of the song and he wonders if he should give up. Maybe he should pass it on to someone else, someone better like Namjoon or Jungkook.

He pauses at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. He looks down at his hands, slightly calloused from writing since nine in the morning. Suddenly, something wet falls onto his palm. He quickly reaches up to wipe his eyes. He’s definitely not crying even though there’s a huge lump in his throat.

Drops and drops of water begin showering on him and it dawns upon him. He looks up at the dark red sky and mutters curses. He starts panicking when he realises he doesn’t have an umbrella with him. He almost spins around to run back to the studio but he remembers Yoongi’s request and stops in his tracks. He decides that a little rain won’t hurt him, so he sprints across the empty road as soon as the traffic light turns green despite already being soaked from head to toe.

“Jimin!”

He hears his name echo in the rain and turns around to see a hazy figure running towards him with an umbrella in his hand. He cannot recognise the person because of the rain hitting against his eyes. It must be one of his fans and he cowers slightly at the thought of that. He's already exhausted enough, he's not wearing any makeup and he must look hideous under the rain. Jimin's first instinct is to step back and he almost makes a run.

The rain no longer whips against his skin as the umbrella covers him. Jimin hears huffing and puffing and looks up only to see Yoongi panting profusely.

“What were you doing in the rain?” Yoongi frets and wipes the water off Jimin’s cheeks.

“Your cigarettes, I wanted to get them,” Jimin says, almost in relief. His fears were for nothing. Yoongi shakes his head and flicks Jimin’s forehead.

“Silly. Let’s go back,” he offers his hand and Jimin takes it without any hesitation. In the biting wind, Yoongi’s large hand feels especially warm.

They are sitting on the sofa in the studio, Yoongi trying to dry Jimin’s hair with a towel. His actions are a little too rough and he keeps tugging on his hair but Jimin still feels a surge of affection as he stares at his boyfriend trying to be as gentle as he can.

“What about your cigarettes?” Jimin suddenly asks. Yoongi chuckles and drops the towel, choosing to wrap Jimin in his arms instead.

“It’s alright, I have you,” he mumbles, “you’re my favourite drug.”

Jimin believes him with all of his heart.