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• Yoongi •

It's after we've shared the third bottle of soju that I realize this is a bad idea. I had forgotten that night when a drink Jimin had shown up on my doorstep, giggly and pink and seductive.

His newly black hair doesn't help, making his pink cheeks all the more obvious as he grins at me, his eyes happy half moons, the light laughs escaping his lips turning my stomach with nervous butterflies.

I'm not drunk, it takes a lot for me to be straight up drunk, but my hands are slightly unsteady as I pour the pouty Jimin a glass of water, cutting the pieces of meat into small bits so he won't hurt himself eating, feeding him from my chopsticks so he won't pout about not wanting to feed himself.

Maybe it's the alcohol. It's probably the tequila I drank earlier, combined with the soju Jimin keeps pouring me.

It probably has nothing to do with the giggly, clingy, bright, beautiful, pink-cheeked, sparkly-eyed boy next to me.

Nothing to do with Jimin at all.

~

"Can we walk for a bit?"

I glance at the younger boy, noticing how his gaze seems more focused than when we first left the restaurant, his eyes on my face as we walk. "I want to sober up before I get home. Jamie would be upset."

I nod, and Jimin turns off the sidewalk onto a path through the park, and it's silent, dark except for the street lamps and the strings of lights on the trees at this time of night.

We walk slowly, and Jimin smiles a bit, tilting his face upward toward the dark sky as he closes his eyes, walking slightly crookedly from the alcohol. "Isn't it beautiful out tonight?"

I nod, reaching to steady him, and he opens his eyes to smile at me, his cheeks pink. "I'm not that drunk, Yoon."

Releasing his elbow, I fall into step next to him, letting the silence of the night come between us, and neither of us says anything until we turn a curve, and my eyes fall on the small stand just as Jimin lights up, grinning. "Let's get ice cream."

"It's too late," but I let him tug me to the stand; I expect it to be empty, this time of night, closed for the day, but the elderly man smiles at us as Jimin orders a single cup of vanilla ice cream, and he pays, slipping his hand in mine to tug me gently further down the path, to a bench under a tree glowing with string lights.

Jimin's eyes crinkle at me as he takes a seat, and he pats the bench next to him; I sit, watching the pink-cheeked boy eat slowly.

"Here." He holds out the spoon, the last tiny bit of vanilla soft serve on the end, and I let him feed it to me, my face heating as I savor the cool, sweet taste, the feeling of Jimin's soft eyes and smile.

"Thanks," I say quietly after a moment, and he smiles, standing to drop the empty cup in the trash before taking his seat once more.

"For what?"

Maybe it's the star-studded sky, or the way his skin glows golden in the lights, or the warm, breezy night, but I let the words slip past my lips, lingering in the air between us.

"I like spending time with you."

He smiles, his cheeks rounding out, his eyes crinkling, soft and bright and happy as he looks at me, holding my gaze as he speaks quietly. "I like that."

And it almost surprises me, how few words he's using, how slowly he's speaking, and as he lifts a hand to gently brush his fingers through the hair tucked behind my ear I can't help my hesitation, the words slipping out unbidden. "You're still drunk, aren't you?"

He laughs slightly, shaking his head, his face bright. "I'm not that much of a lightweight, Min Yoongi."

"It sure seemed like it, Park Jimin," I reply quietly, my lips curling upward, and his smile makes my chest fill with warmth, his voice softer, his eyes steady on mine.

"I wouldn't do this, if I were drunk."

And he leans forward, and my brain short-circuits, the world slowing, surreal and barely moving and blurring as Park Jimin gently, tenderly, slowly presses his lips against mine.

I can't breathe, my eyes closing, my entire body flooding with a warmth that I didn't even realize I needed until his mouth touched mine, and a rush of sweetness sweeps through my veins, filling my chest with a golden light, a brightness that tugs my entire being toward Jimin, and as he pulls away I can't open my eyes, my breathing slow, steady, heartbeat pounding in my ears as it's completely silent, the entire world stopping, standing still for the two of us.

It's only moments after he pulls away that my eyes open, but it feels like ages, years, eons without his mouth on mine, because I never realized that Jimin was that missing piece I needed, that the touch of his lips against mine completed me in a way that nothing else could.

His eyes meet mine, dark and shining in the dim light, and I trace his features with my gaze, unable to stop staring at the beauty that is Park Jimin, the perfection that completes me.

And the tiniest smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he stands, offering me his hand, and as I slip my fingers into his it's different, even simply holding hands, because we've kissed now, and we can never simply be the close friends we were before.

It's silent, the walk to my apartment, and I can't help wondering if perhaps Jimin is still drunk, with the quiet, still man holding my hand a perfect juxtaposition with his usual bouncing, laughing self, but as my tongue darts out to dampen my lips I only taste the sweetness of the ice cream lingering from his mouth; no alcohol.

The two of us stop outside my door, and he turns to face me, eyes meeting mine, a smile tugging at his lips. "Sleep well."

I nod, and his hand raises to gently touch my jaw, a gently caress of his hand on my cheek, and somehow the simple touch seems almost more intimate than the kiss earlier, the simple brush of his skin on mine shooting tiny sparks through my body, the affection in such a touch undeniable.

Another soft smile, and he turns, disappearing into the stairwell, his slim figure disappearing from sight as I stare after him, my hand raising to my face, my lips, the lingering taste of ice cream on my mouth leaving me speechless.

~

I love this chapter. Hope you do as well! This moment has been highly anticipated, so I kept rewriting it and hopefully I've done it justice.

Thanks for reading!

Piano BoyWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu