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jimin was gazing out of his window, still in his clothes from before. his hand was lazily propping his head up on the windowsill. yoongi had taken him home, and surprisingly hadn't gone yet. maybe he was just waiting for jimin to get inside safely.
jimin continued to stare as he saw yoongi's head peek out, restless eyes relaxing as he saw the younger’s face illuminated by the warm pink light of his lamp, the curtains swishing around him.
the latter bit his lip and waved, a whoosh of wind deciding to interrupt the moment, making his blonde hair disheveled and funny.
yoongi stifled a laugh and a strange calmness crept up on him. and maybe when he rolled the car window back up, just maybe, he displayed the tiniest hint of the smile, sadly sheltered by the tinted glass of the vehicle.
and maybe he blushed, the faintest pink making an appearance on his cheeks as he pursed his lips when he saw the wave that jimin was giving him. how stupidly cute.
🍁
he watched as the car left the street. “what a night,” he shivered at the memory of the man who had dragged him into the dark corner, the smell of alcohol on his breath and the grip of his rough fingers on his petite waist.
the grip that had later been replaced by a much softer and comforting one, yoongi's, and a much calmer scent, the one of the leather seats that he could sink in.
🍁
he chuckled as he spotted his reflection in the mirror of his small bathroom.
his room was beautiful. the walls were pastel pink and yellow fairy lights dangled on the headboard. also, photos on one corner of the wall, one being of jimin dressed as a cow, about maybe three or four years of age.
he splashed his face with cold water, wincing at the temperature as he began wiping his makeup off.
he didn't usually put a ton of it on, mainly a bit of concealer but nothing extravagant.
he proceeded to exfoliate his skin with a light green scrub, feeling more refreshed as he took a shower and rubbed his favourite lotion on, which smelled like vanilla and roses.
🍁
he looked at himself in the mirror. for a long time. this was the time when he had the room all to himself. when he would sometimes cry out of stress, loneliness or nostalgia or because of happiness, excitement or infatuation.
it was the late hours of the night when he had a space to himself, when minji was sleeping and he was left alone with his thoughts. this was when he became intimate and desperate.
he tried not to think about yoongi, but he was all that came to mind. after all, it was him who had saved him from the drunk man, and it was also him who had, so caring and protectively held him till his tears were dry.
“fuck…no jimin, don't think about him!” he cried to himself, but there was no use. the repeating image of the driver’s piercing gaze, and his large bony hands touching him, sent shivers down his spine.
he felt so vulnerable.
“y-yoongi…” he was now wrapped in blankets, head thrown back against the headboard as he began to do unspeakable things.
