Flowers sat on the counter. White spray roses mingled with clearly not natural, wine-colored daisies, white cushion mums, and Italian ruscus. The tiny white buds looking like snowflakes that fell on the bouquet. A gift from Yoongi to his boyfriend. Jimin loved it; the elder was never one for stereotypical, loud, and sappy exhibitions of love. He prefered, rather, to show his affection in other, more discreet ways.
Yoongi had a tendency to sneak an extra snack or two and water bottle into Jimin’s practice bag for when he finally decided to take a break between teaching dance lessons. He would text him to make sure he got to work okay, despite the fact that his studio was a mere ten minute walk from their shared apartment. He would ensure that all his favorite clothes were washed and in his closet, ready to be worn whenever he desired.
Jimin, on the other hand, was never one to be shy about declaring his love. He had no problem with brushing his knuckles against the back of Yoongi’s hand before intertwining their fingers as they made the trek to the convenience store at the end of the street. He had zero qualms about telling him how much he loved him—adored him—whether they were alone, or surrounded by friends. Jimin would never hesitate to sit in his lap, play with his hair, or claim Yoongi’s sweaters as his own.
Jimin loved Yoongi.
And he knew Yoongi loved him, too. He just had a different way of showing it.
So when he arrived home to the beautiful glass vase, his heart swelled. It was just so unexpected.
Jimin fished his phone out of his back pocket as he read the note placed just in front of it. The familiar messy handwriting of his boyfriend was scribed onto the sheet on notebook paper read, To my Jiminnie.
Their cat, a calico named Boo (Yoongi came up with the name, actually, after they found her in an alley on Halloween as a kitten), rubbed her face and body against his bare calves as he shot the elder a text.
Where did you get the flowers?
Jimin wasn’t expecting an answer so soon. He had thought that maybe, if he was really fortunate, that Yoongi would respond in an hour, but he barely had any time to change out of his gross practice clothes, which consisted of some basketball shorts and a tank top, and into something more decent. His phone vibrated on the bed, where it lay next to Boo, who had decided to curl up on Jimin’s pillow.
From a place. Do you like them?
The message was short, but he couldn’t help but smile upon reading it.
They’re beautiful, he wrote back, sitting on the edge of the mattress, stroking the cat absent-mindedly. What are they for?
Maybe it was just because he was so used to having Yoongi crawl into bed at ungodly hours, or maybe it was because he was in the middle of writing and producing the music for the debut of a new girl group, but when he heard the front door of their apartment open, and the voice of his boyfriend carry through their home, Jimin was thoroughly surprised.
“They’re for you,” Yoongi called out, placing his keys down on the counter and kicking his shoes off. He made his way into the bedroom, stopping at the entrance and leaning on the doorframe. There was pure, unadulterated adoration being fostered in his eyes as he gazed at Jimin, who was still lounging on the bed next to his feline companion. Boo’s purring was loud enough to be heard from across the room.
Jimin smiled as his eyes met Yoongi’s. He was just so glad that, for once, the love of his life was home at a reasonable time. That he would be home so they could have dinner together. That he would be home to do incredibly, disgustingly domestic shit like curl up on the couch together and watch something stupid like House Hunters or Chopped. He was just so glad.
“I know that,” the younger of the two responded, sitting up a bit more. “But why? It’s not my birthday. It’s not our anniversary.”
Mock hurt grossed Yoongi’s face. “Park Jimin, am I not allowed to spoil my boyfriend? Or do you doubt that I’m capable of doing something nice for once?” He raised a hand to rest on his chest to add to the dramatics before continuing on. “Honestly, I’m a little hurt. This is the last time I do something nice for you”
Jimin was quick to get up from his spot, and crossed the room to be by Yoongi’s side in just a few steps. “I never said I was doubting you,” he began, smile on his face. “I just wanted to know what they were for.”
Dropping his act, Yoongi shrugged, wrapping his arms tightly around Jimin. The embrace warm and absolutely what he needed after a day of being at the studio. “I don’t know,” he said, his tone light, and volume not much more than a whisper. “I just thought that you deserved something nice.” He removed one of his hands from Jimin’s back and began to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s fine hair. “I’m sorry that I’ve been gone so much lately. I finished the track today, though, so things should be calming down a bit. I should be home more.”
Jimin never complained about the other’s absence. He knew that Yoongi had work to do, that multiple companies relied on him to produce for their groups. He knew that contract work was difficult and temporary, and if there was any hope of being rehired, Yoongi had to do his job perfectly. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmured into Yoongi’s shoulder. “You have your work, I have mine. As long as I see you at the end of each day, I can’t really complain.”
Among other things, his absolute selflessness is what Yoongi loved about Jimin. He was just so understanding and so compassionate. It made him melt (not that he would ever admit it).
Yoongi, still holding him tightly in his arms, pressed a gentle kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, so much.”
And Jimin thought, that just like the flowers, this moment was beautiful.