lucky charms ✧･ﾟ y.m [book 1]

thirty-two

Yoongi remembered some things from his childhood vividly. He remembered his first day of preschool, and how he got into trouble for flushing a purple balloon down the toilet. He remembered visiting the doctor with his mother, not crying when he got shots but only crying when they gave him that flu spray thing in his nose. He really hated that stuff. He remembered seeing his mother crying on the couch one day, her head in her hands.

Those random things—some important, some not—entered his brain at the weirdest times. He would be eating ice cream with Jimin at their favorite ice cream parlor and suddenly remember how a kid named Wonpil in kindergarten was absent for a day because he got his tonsils removed. Or he was dozing off to the sound of his math teacher talking in that monotonous voice of hers and suddenly was reminded of when he was chased around the playground with a worm in first grade.

Things like that, the silly little details, always tended to stick in Yoongi's head. It was both a blessing and a curse. He could clearly remember things he didn't want to remember, like the time some kid sitting next to him in kindergarten threw up on his notebook. Or the time he ran from his way back from the park to his house because he was scared of the big, growly dog across the street, barking at him. Then there was the time he ran into a pole while trying to chase the bullies who took his Kumamon plushie. He did get a popsicle afterwards, at least.

Then, of course, there were the countless times his father had abused him. Those memories visited Yoongi at his worst times— when he was feeling really disgusted with his weight and appearance and remembered how his father told him to stop eating so much. When he was feeling suicidal and remembered how his father told him to kill himself because he didn't deserve to live. Or when he was having a panic attack and he could almost feel his father hitting him, his mind reverting back to the state he was once in, bruised and broken on the floor.

Those times he could never forget.

As the years passed, Yoongi began replacing his bad memories with better ones—like the time he and Jimin ate Lucky Charms while sitting at the top of the monkey bars at the park, watching the sunset. Or the time they tried catching fireflies at night but Yoongi sneezed and scared them all away.

Jimin really was the light of his life, whether it be as a best friend or as something else, whatever else Jimin was becoming to him. His crush? The person who made him blush like crazy all the time? The boy who made his heart flutter with every little thing he did?

Jimin was naturally flirty. It was a known fact. He was also very touchy.

Was Yoongi reading too much into the situation? Maybe he was making everything up. Maybe Jimin wasn't actually flirting with him. Maybe Yoongi just imagined Jimin's lips on his, whispering sweet dreams before giving him a goodnight kiss.

He just couldn't help but hope that it was real. That his best friend really did kiss him, that his best friend was really flirting with him, that his best friend was actually starting to see Yoongi as more than a best friend.

<3

"Baby, I'm home," Jimin called as he closed the front door with one hand, grocery bags in the other. "I got you a present."

He had gone shopping, leaving Yoongi asleep on his bed, and a few things caught his eye. Knowing that Yoongi would like them, Jimin quickly bought them, smiling during the whole ride home as he imagined Yoongi's reaction.

Yoongi emerged from Jimin's room, wrapped in a blanket like a fluffy burrito as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I only got out of bed because I heard the word present. What's the occasion?"

Jimin smiled fondly, loving how adorable the older looked. Heading back to his bedroom, he asked, "Can't I buy you things without there being an occasion?"

They sat in the middle of the bed and Yoongi shrugged, looking at the bags curiously.

Jimin hid one bag under the bed. "Snacks," he said, before opening the second bag.

"I saw this and immediately imagined you wearing it and I had to buy it," Jimin mumbled, suddenly shy. "I-I thought you'd look really cute in it, and it looked like something you'd like. . . ."

It was a dress, simple and flowy, the cotton fabric soft beneath Yoongi's fingers. It was a beautiful pastel yellow, and Yoongi adored it. "I-It's so pretty," he said in a hushed voice, a tiny smile on his face.

"I got you a few more things," Jimin said, pulling out a white skirt, short and pleated, similar to the pink skirt they had gotten at the mall that one day.

"I got this for you because I know you really like wearing things that make you feel pretty, and you're too shy to shop for yourself. You look pretty already, baby, really. . . ." Jimin's cheeks reddened and Yoongi looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to continue. "But I really want to see you in a skirt again, it— it did things to me."

Yoongi blushed. "T-things?"

Jimin turned to hide his red cheeks and quickly handed Yoongi the skirt. "Jiminie, I love it," he smiled softly. He was touched that Jimin would do something like that for him.

"U-um, I also got you s-some makeup?" Jimin hesitated before handing the older some lip gloss. "I wasn't sure if you wanted it, but I got some anyway, b-because. . . . I did. There's also eyeliner and mascara in there too. I was going to get eyeshadow and I found some glittery stuff, but I'm not really sure if it actually was eyeshadow, now that I think about it."

Yoongi laughed quietly at Jimin, seeing the blush on his cheeks. "T-thank you, Jiminie, I love it, I really do." He hugged the dress to his chest and grinned. "I can't wait to try this on, it feels so soft."

"I want to see you in it," Jimin mumbled, petting Yoongi's fluffy pink hair gently. "You'd look so fucking pretty."

"S-stop making me blush, you big meanie!" the older pouted as he jumped off of the bed and marched to the bathroom, dress in hand.

"You could always change in here, you know!" Jimin laughed, almost screaming as he narrowly dodged a projectile hairbrush, thrown at him by Yoongi before the bathroom door slammed closed.

"Fuck, I think I'm in love," he mumbled under his breath, breaking into a small smile. That boy was probably going to be the death of him one day.

<3

i need sleep. this was going to be a short chapter, like 600 words, but i got carried away and now it's almost 1200. oops?? thanks for reading <3