“I think we should have backup dancers,” is how it starts.
Jimin looks up at Hoseok, who’s watching a video of their rehearsal from earlier. “Backup dancers?” he asks, curiously. They’ve already put together a 10-person dance troupe for the recital, so it’s hard to imagine that they really need any more people on stage.
“Yes,” Hoseok says, turning his laptop towards Jimin, “imagine the big finale but with, like, 20 or so more people behind us, all dressed in black.”
“Huh,” Jimin says. He starts reconfiguring the choreography in his head and thinks, yeah, that would work.
“Where will we find 20 people? Most people in the department are already pretty committed for the recital.” Jimin points out, after they’ve mapped out a formation and a basic plan for the choreography.
Hoseok thinks for a minute. “We can ask the freshmen, and I have a few other people I can ask, too,” Hoseok says with a wave of his hand. “We should keep the choreo simple, though. In case we need to really ask around.”
“Hmm, good point,” Jimin says, and he leaves the backup dancers to Hoseok.
Jimin is uncharacteristically nervous when they have their first rehearsal with the backup dancers, mainly because Hoseok said that he did end up having to ask a couple people he knew outside of the department to get the 20 people they wanted. He knows it’s only one song, and that the choreography shouldn’t be too challenging for anyone vetted by Hoseok, but he can’t shake the feeling that something will go horribly wrong. He gives himself a pep talk as he takes the stairs up to the studio two at a time. You got this, Jimin. They will love your choreography. You will be an amazing teacher. Let’s do this, he thinks determinedly as he opens the door to the studio and surveys the dancers milling about.
To Jimin’s surprise, Min Yoongi is there, too, wearing basketball shorts and a large T-shirt. Jimin has only seen him in the dance studio once, back when they were choreographing a piece to one of his productions, but he’s almost positive that they’re not using any of his songs for this recital.
“Oh, Yoongi-hyung, did Hoseok-hyung drag you here?” Jimin asks, approaching him.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he promised he would be in my debt until the end of time, or some shit like that. Also, that the choreo would be easy, but coming from Hoseok, that means basically nothing, so.”
Jimin knits his eyebrows together in confusion, feeling like there’s something he’s missing. He opens his mouth to ask, but his train of thought is interrupted by Hoseok bounding into the studio.
“Hyung!” Hoseok shouts and practically tackles Yoongi to the ground. “Just like old times, eh?”
“Please don’t remind me.” Yoongi swats Hoseok off of him, but he has a small smile on his face.
Okay, so Jimin is definitely missing something, but he decides to ignore his Hyungs’ antics in favor of putting his things down and getting ready to teach. You’re amazing, he recites in his head. You’re a great dancer. You got this.
Hoseok begins directing the mess of people who’ve volunteered to be backup dancers to stretch, and Jimin watches Yoongi move to join them. A strange thought slowly settles in the back of Jimin’s mind.
“Are you—are you dancing in our recital?” Jimin asks Yoongi, not even believing the words as he’s saying them.
Yoongi fixes him with a strange look. “Why else would I be here?” Jimin’s face must convey how completely floored he is by this information, because Yoongi starts to look at him as if he’s questioning his sanity. “I used to dance in Bangtan with Hoseok,” he says, name-dropping the hip-hop dance club on campus. “That’s how we met. Did you not know that?”
Jimin did not know that. There is no universe in which he knew that. He has never heard of this before in his life.
“I guess you were probably still in high school when I quit,” Yoongi says after it becomes clear that Jimin is incapable of speech.
Jimin is saved from having to continue his very one-sided conversation with Yoongi by Hoseok yelling at them to stretch with the group. He all but flees Yoongi’s confused glances to join Hoseok up front. Focus, he tells himself, forcefully. Focus, Park Jimin. Do not think about Min Yoongi. Don’t even look at him.
Of course, since Jimin is literally teaching the choreography, not looking at Yoongi is a little bit impossible. He likes to think he does a pretty good job, but at the end of their scheduled hour when they’ve finished teaching for the night, Hoseok has the dancers do some run-throughs of what they’ve learned so far. Jimin gives into his own curiosity, and he looks.
Yoongi has an intense look on his face when he’s dancing, like he’s concentrating extremely hard on the choreography. He probably is, Jimin thinks, but it’s an odd look on him. Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yoongi look so serious, though he supposes he’s only really seen him in social situations before. Yoongi is not the best dancer in the group, not by a mile, and he’s definitely a bit rusty, but he clearly knows how to dance. Yoongi is good, Jimin thinks as he watches him, and he doesn’t really know what to do with the thought.
It is absolutely unacceptable that Yoongi could dance this whole time and Jimin never knew. Jimin feels like this is vital information that he’s missed, like there’s some essential piece of Min Yoongi that he’s found after he put the rest together and is just now realizing that he’s done the whole puzzle wrong. Jimin cannot reconcile the Min Yoongi who’s Namjoon’s karaoke partner, the Min Yoongi who laughed so hard he snorted at one of Seokjin’s dad jokes last month, and the Min Yoongi who walked him from Hoseok’s that one time when he was too drunk to see straight with the Min Yoongi who’s popping and body rolling in front of him like he’s done it a million times. He probably has, Jimin thinks, a little distraught.
Hoseok calls everyone into the center to go over some housekeeping items, and Jimin snaps out of his reverie.
“Okay, so, as you all know, there’s only three weeks until the recital. We’ll have rehearsal every Tuesday and Thursday until the 28th, so please let me know if there are any dates you can’t make. You guys are only dancing on half a song, really, so five rehearsals should be enough, but don’t hesitate to reach out to me or Jimin-ah if you need extra practice, or help booking a studio,” Hoseok begins. Jimin tunes him out and focuses on Yoongi instead. Yoongi glances up and makes eye contact with him. He smiles softly, like he did at Hoseok earlier. Jimin smiles back and looks away.
“Min Yoongi can dance,” Jimin announces into his apartment when he gets home.
Taehyung pops his head up from the couch where he’d been halfheartedly studying. “What?” he asks, eloquently.
“Yoongi-hyung. Apparently, he used to dance with Hoseok in Bangtan before we were even in college. He’s one of the backup dancers for our big recital piece. He can dance,” Jimin repeats, a little desperately.
“Oh, I didn’t know he danced,” Taehyung says. And that’s all he says. Is he kidding?
“Taehyung is this not absolutely mind-fucking information? I’ve seen Min Yoongi body roll and my mind is fucked,” Jimin tries again. He dramatically flops on the couch beside Taehyung for effect.
“Your mind is fucked, huh?” Taehyung says, wriggling his eyebrows in Jimin’s direction.
Jimin decides to ignore Taehyung’s eyebrows entirely. “I literally cannot deal with this information. I feel like this whole time I’ve never known him. I feel like Yoongi-hyung has been kidnapped and replaced by an android. I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and replaced by an android.”
“He’s that good, is he?” Taehyung is laughing at him, the bastard.
“Here,” Jimin says, tossing his phone towards Taehyung with the video that Hoseok took of the last run-through pulled up, “see for yourself.”
“Which one is he? Oh, never mind, I see him,” Taehyung says. “Huh, yeah he’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good? Is that all you have to say?” Jimin practically screams. “I’m losing my mind over here!”
“You’ve lost your mind, or Yoongi fucked it?”
Jimin groans and rolls off of the couch onto the ground.
“I think you’re overreacting a bit, Chim,” Taehyung says, peering over the edge of the couch to give Jimin a look that conveys exactly how ridiculous he thinks he’s being. “Unless you’re, like, into him now, or something.”
“I am not into Min Yoongi.”
“I don’t know, you’re the one who brought up the mind-fucking,” Taehyung giggles, and Jimin just rolls further underneath the coffee table to escape this conversation and hopefully, his whole life, too.
Here’s the thing, Jimin will be the first to admit that he and Yoongi aren’t the closest of friends. They run in all the same circles and are in several different group chats together. They hang out together probably about once a week or more with their mutual friends, and Jimin even texts him occasionally when he hears a song he thinks he’d like or sees a particularly cute cat, but it’s not like they’ve ever really talked just two of them. In fact, Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever hung out with just Yoongi before, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that there’s a lot Jimin doesn’t know about him. Fuck, Jimin doesn’t even know when Yoongi’s birthday is, and he’s pretty sure he’s been to at least one of his birthday parties. When is Yoongi’s birthday? Why doesn’t he know this?
Jimin grabs his laptop off of his desk and navigates to Yoongi’s Facebook page. After clicking around for a bit and checking Taehyung’s page, he realizes that Yoongi doesn’t have his birthday listed on Facebook at all. He sighs and starts scrolling backwards through his timeline, instead. Yoongi posts absolutely nothing on social media, so it doesn’t take too long until he finds what he’s looking for: Bangtan videos from three years ago that Hoseok had tagged him in. He clicks on the first one and scans the stage for Yoongi. It takes him about half the video to decide which one is him, so he starts it over again and follows him through the whole dance.
He clicks on the next video, and the one after that, too, eyes trained on the miniature Yoongi dancing across his screen. Jimin admits to himself that he’s not exactly sure what he’s looking for. Yoongi to mess up, maybe? For Yoongi to stand in the middle of the stage and explain to Jimin how long he’s been dancing and also the rest of his life story? For his fucking birthday to flash across the screen? Jimin clicks the next video.
Yoongi has a small feature in the front of the formation in this one. He looks like he’s having fun. Jimin watches it again.
“Wow, you really can dance, Hyung!” Jungkook exclaims, watching the same rehearsal video that Jimin showed Taehyung on Thursday.
Hoseok had announced loudly upon entering the bar that they all frequent on Friday nights that Yoongi had finally returned to the world of dance and that they all needed to drink to celebrate. Jungkook had been the only one in the group at that point who didn’t know about Yoongi’s dancing past and demanded evidence.
Yoongi just shrugs and goes back to sipping his beer. This makes a small part of Jimin irrationally angry. How is everyone acting like this is no big deal? Jimin takes a stool from an empty table and sits himself down next to Yoongi.
“When’s your birthday?” he asks, a little forcefully.
Yoongi gives him that same look he did in the studio, the one that implies that he’s worried Jimin is having some sort of episode. “March 9th,” he says.
That fits in with when Jimin remembers them celebrating last year. “Mine’s October 13th,” he says.
“Jimin-ah, I know when your birthday is.”
“Oh,” Jimin says, “what’s your favorite color?”
Yoongi laughs at him. “Uh, white, I guess? Do you want to know my blood type, too?”
Jimin decides maturely to ignore Yoongi’s question. “Since when do you dance?”
Yoongi shrugs again. “I don’t know. I did it in high school. It was the easiest club for me to join when I got to college, since the basketball club conflicted with my classes.”
This answer is not at all satisfactory. “Why did you quit?”
“I got hit by a car sophomore year and had to quit for a semester. Then I realized how much more free time I had without Bangtan,” he laughs. “Just never started again, I guess.”
Jimin squints at Yoongi. Maybe, if he looks hard enough, he’ll get the answers he wants. “Do you like dancing?”
Yoongi looks thoughtful for a second before he answers. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“You do, or you guess you do?”
“I don’t hate it.” When Jimin doesn’t say anything, Yoongi asks, “Have I answered all your questions?”
“Not even close,” Jimin says. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Yeah, I have an older brother.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s in law school.”
“What about your parents?”
“Wow,” Yoongi laughs, “you’re really giving me the third degree, here.”
“Well, I thought I’d known you for two and a half years, but it turns out that I know anything about you, since you’ve literally been a dancer this whole time, so now I have to establish a baseline for everything.”
Yoongi laughs at him. He’s doing that a lot, Jimin notices. He’s not sure whether or not he should be offended. “Wow, I didn’t realize the sight of me dancing would disturb you this much.”
That’s not what Jimin meant. Or is it? This whole conversation is mildly frustrating, and Jimin can’t even really put his finger on why. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” he says.
“What, like my birthday?” Yoongi smirks.
“Ugh, never mind! Keep your secrets, Min Yoongi, see what I care!” Jimin’s aware he’s being dramatic, but also, he doesn’t care. He stands up and goes to the bar to get a drink.
“What have you done this time, Hyung?” Jimin can hear Namjoon ask Yoongi when he leaves.
“Born on the wrong day, I think,” Yoongi says. Jimin rolls his eyes even though he knows Yoongi can’t see him.
“Have you ever, like, hung out with Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asks Jungkook and Taehyung when they’re all in Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment, eating take-out and watching anime.
Jungkook gives him a look eerily similar the one Yoongi gave him yesterday. “Yes? We hung out with him literally yesterday. You were there.”
“No, I mean one-on-one. Have you ever hung out with just Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin tries again.
“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook shrugs. “We get coffee sometimes.”
“You get coffee?”
“Yeah, like, ever other week or so.”
“Why didn’t I know this?” Jimin demands.
“Don’t worry about him, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says from the other side of the couch. “He’s just being weird because he’s seen Hyung’s extremely sexy dancing up close and personal, and now, he’s into him.”
“I am not into him.” He isn’t.
Jungkook hums. “That explains the whole birthday thing you two were going on about yesterday.”
“It explains nothing, because I’m not into him. Tae, do you ever hang out with Yoongi?”
“Yes, my dear Chimmy, we take the train to Daegu together during the holidays every year. You know that, you lovable idiot.”
Jimin is distressed. “Why is everyone friends with Yoongi except for me?”
“Are you not friends?” Jungkook asks, looking a little sad at the thought.
“Jimin,” Taehyung says, grabbing him by the shoulders, “you’ve got to get a hold of yourself. If you want to hang out with Yoongi, then just hang out with him. It’s not that complicated. Unless you’re into him, in which case then I guess it would be pretty complicated.”
“But, if you are into him,” Jungkook says, “you should probably also just hang out with him. Except the hanging out is a date, because you’re into him.”
Jimin not infrequently wants to throttle Taehyung and Jungkook when they are in the same room, but he has to say, this is definitely the strongest his throttle urges have been in a long time. “I don’t want to date him! I just—I don’t know,” Jimin admits. Taehyung pats his knee sympathetically.
Jimin’s phone vibrates. It’s a text from Yoongi that says, “One time I broke Jin’s favorite frying pan and convinced him that it just mysteriously disappeared from the apartment. He still doesn’t know. Is that secret enough for you, or are you looking for some real blackmail material?”
Jimin smiles and texts him back.
The second rehearsal with the backup dancers is relatively uneventful. They do, after all, only have half a song’s worth of choreography to learn, so everything is going pretty smoothly despite the short timeline. The next rehearsal will be with the rest of the troupe to work on staging and cohesivity, and after that, the last two rehearsals will be focused on run-throughs and nitpicking. It should all come together just in time for the recital.
Hoseok calls for the end of rehearsal, and the dancers begin filtering out of the studio. Well, all of the dancers except for Yoongi, who just lies on the floor where he’d been standing and closes his eyes. Jimin raises an eyebrow, but decides to leave it and goes to shower.
Yoongi is still lying on the floor in the exact same position when Jimin returns from his shower.
“You okay?” Jimin asks, a little concerned.
Yoongi grunts in response. “I’m fine. Just leave me here to die.”
“Do you want me to call in to your job? Let them know you’re dead?”
Yoongi waves a hand around. “Eh, they’ll figure it out, eventually.”
Jimin giggles a bit and sits down on the floor next to him. “So,” Jimin says after a moment, “did you always do just hip-hop, or did you do any other styles of dance?”
“Oh, are we starting with the twenty questions again?” Yoongi says. Jimin starts, but Yoongi changes the subject before Jimin can sputter a response. “I feel like I’ve been run over. I’ve never been this sore in my whole life. I’ve literally been hit by a car, and I’ve never been this sore before.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Okay, Drama Queen, let’s get you up before you actually do die here,” Jimin says, standing and holding a hand out to help Yoongi up. Yoongi doesn’t get up, though. Instead, his stomach growls loudly. Yoongi groans and rolls over, hugging his knees into a fetal position.
“God, I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m starving. I’m dying, Jimin-ah; I’m sure of it.”
“What? Why didn’t you get dinner before rehearsal?” Jimin asks, eyebrows knitting together.
“Not enough time. Came right from work.”
Yoongi looks absolutely pathetic, so Jimin takes pity on him. “If I buy you dinner, will you reconsider dying in my favorite studio?”
“Absolutely not,” Yoongi’s eyes finally open, squinting up at Jimin and his still-outstretched hand. “I’m older, so I’d have to buy you dinner.”
Jimin rolls his eyes again. “Alright, now that we’ve established that you’re completely ridiculous in every way, Hyung, get up and buy me dinner.”
“Well,” Yoongi smirks, “when you put it that way, how can I say no?” He grabs Jimin’s hand and pulls himself up.
They walk into the closest restaurant to the studio, and Jimin says, pointing a finger into Yoongi’s chest, “Okay, the real twenty questions start now.”
Jimin asks Yoongi about growing up, about Daegu, about his job, about everything. Yoongi tells him about his parents, who loved him a lot, but worked so much that he and his brother practically raised each other. He tells him about growing up in the mountains and the time he got lost in the woods when he was eight. He tells him about working as a low-level producer at an entertainment company since graduating and waiting until he can pitch the right song at the right time to the right person to jump the ranks. He answers all of Jimin’s questions, and Jimin answers his, too. Jimin tells Yoongi about the ocean in Busan. He tells him about discovering ballet and how long it took him to admit to himself that he was gay, how much he hated being a stereotype. Jimin tells him that finding out Yoongi could dance blew his mind so badly that he spent an hour looking for his birthday on Facebook and watching his old Bangtan videos.
Yoongi smiles at him, and Jimin smiles back.
“You’re awfully happy-looking to be back so late from rehearsal,” Taehyung says when Jimin finally gets home.
“I went out with Yoongi-hyung after rehearsal. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet,” Jimin shrugs.
“Oh, you went out with him, did you?” Taehyungs eyebrows are back with a vengeance.
Jimin feels himself blush. God, why is he doing that? Control your face, Park Jimin. “Oh my god, Tae, let it go.”
Okay, so, a lot of dancing is pretty sexual in nature. Obviously, Jimin knows this, but he’s been in dance for so long, and watched dance for so long, that a lot of even the more overtly sexual movements have lost their impact. Yes, hip thrusting is sexual, but practicing the same hip thrust over and over again and critiquing its form brings the sexiness level down a little. Rehearsals are almost never sexy. Performances are sometimes sexy, but it’s more the artistry, the choreography, and the feeling that really makes or breaks the dance and, therefore, the sexy factor.
None of which explains why watching Yoongi doing some admittedly less than enthusiastic hip thrusts in the 32 counts that Hoseok is making everyone do over and over again to critique their form is pretty much scrambling his brain, frying it, and serving it for breakfast.
Get a grip, Jimin tells himself and looks anywhere but Yoongi. Please, god, anywhere but Yoongi. He fixes his eyes on one of the dancers on the opposite side of the studio and stares at him until Hoseok is satisfied with everyone’s hip thrusts. This guy’s hip thrusts don’t do anything to his brain, and they are much more enthusiastic than Yoongi’s. Jimin tries not to dwell on the thought, but he isn’t very successful. In fact, it’s all he can think about. When Hoseok calls for the main troupe to get back into formation, Jimin is so grateful he could kiss him. Hoseok, not Yoongi. Not kissing Yoongi. Why is he thinking about kissing Yoongi?
Oh, fuck, he’s into Min Yoongi.
“I can’t believe you actually admitted you like Yoongi-hyung.” Taehyung says from the couch, looking down at Jimin, who’s on the floor again. “This is momentous. This is earth-shattering. Mark the calendars. Call the newspapers. I’m going to call Jungkook.”
“Please don’t call Jungkook,” Jimin says, weakly.
“It’s too late; I’ve already texted him. He’s on his way, and he’s bringing ice cream.” Well, thank god for small miracles. “We have to map out a plan of seduction, and we’ll need his expertise.”
Jimin is not sure which part of that sentence is more disturbing. “What seduction expertise does Jungkook have? Never mind, I really don’t want to know the answer to that question. I don’t need a plan of seduction.”
“Chim, if you don’t have a plan of seduction, how are you going to make Yoongi-hyung realize that he needs a piece of your sweet, sweet ass.”
“He won’t, because I’m going to die here so I never have to see him again.”
“Come on, you guys have been texting a lot, right? And, you said he bought you dinner. If that doesn’t scream, ‘Please, let me take you home and ravish you,’ then I don’t know what does.”
“Nothing says that, Tae; it’s weirdly specific.”
Jungkook knocks on their door, and Taehyung gets up to let him in. Jimin continues to lie on the floor.
“I heard we need some expert seduction to get Jimin into Yoongi-hyung’s pants.” Jungkook announces from the doorway.
“Please stop saying the word seduction,” Jimin begs.
“It’s worse than I feared, Kookie. Jimin doesn’t just want to get into Yoongi’s pants, he wants to hold his hand and gaze deeply into his eyes. He wants to recite poetry and give him flowers. He doesn’t want to have sex; he wants to make love.” Taehyung wiggles his fingers at Jungkook.
“Hmm, that does complicate things, but I think I can work with it.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not right here, you assholes.”
“You have to be nice to me, because I’m going to get you in Yoongi’s pants. Also, I bought you ice cream.” Jungkook sits beside Jimin on the floor, placing the pint of ice cream in between them.
Jimin can’t help it, he bites. “Okay, what’s your master plan, pray tell me.”
Jungkook hums and takes out his phone. “Should I ask him generally if there’s someone he likes, or should I just ask him straight up if he thinks Jimin is cute?”
“Oh my god!” Jimin lunges for Jungkook’s phone, but Jungkook’s arms are longer, and he pushes Jimin off with one hand while he begins texting.
“Ask him if he’s ever thought about sucking Jimin’s dick,” Taehyung laughs, jumping on Jimin to help Jungkook hold him back.
“I swear to god, I’ll kill you both!” Jimin struggles, but against both of them, he’s pretty useless.
“Okay, I compromised and asked him if there’s anyone whose dick he’s been thinking of sucking.”
“Oh my god!” is all Jimin can say from underneath where Taehyung’s sitting on him. He doesn’t think his face has ever been this hot. “How is this seduction expertise? This is drunk texting, that’s what it is.”
“Ooh, he’s typing!” Jungkook says victoriously and Jimin struggles uselessly against Taehyung again. “He said ‘what the fuck.’”
“Yeah, no shit, you idiot!” Jimin runs a hand down his face.
“Now, he’s going on about respecting my elders. This is good, it means there’s definitely a dick he wants to suck.”
“In what world is that what that means?” This is the worst day of Jimin’s life. He wants nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear forever.
“Ask if it’s Jimin’s dick,” Taehyung says, brightly.
“Please stop talking about my dick,” Jimin pleads.
“I’m asking him how long he’s been harboring feelings about Jimin’s dick.” If there is a god, he abandoned Jimin a long time ago.
“I was kidding about dying before, but now I’m not,” Jimin says, a little out of breath because Taehyung is still sitting on his chest.
“This is for your own good, Chim. You’ll thank us later,” Taehyung says, as if oblivious to how he and Jungkook have completely ruined the rest of Jimin’s life. Jimin reaches for the ice cream and prays for the sweet release of death.
Jimin knows he’s being weird. He’s achingly aware he’s being weird, but he can’t stop. It’s like he’s lost the ability to control his body, like someone ripped a cog out of the machine of his brain and everything broke into a million pieces.
Ever since Jimin was forced to admit to himself that maybe he had, like, the smallest crush in existence on Yoongi, the flood gates opened. He thinks about Yoongi constantly. He wakes up from vague dreams of Yoongi he can’t remember. He eats breakfast and thinks about how Yoongi likes his eggs. He goes to class and thinks about what Yoongi’s doing at work. He goes to practice on Tuesday and has to wrench his eyes from Yoongi every five seconds, because he can’t physically stop himself from staring.
Jimin is quite literally crawling in his own skin, so he does the only thing he knows to do: he dances.
After everyone’s cleared out of the studio, Jimin waves off Hoseok, saying he needs to practice a few things. He plugs the AUX cord into his phone and scrolls through the top songs on Naver until he sees one that he remembers having a decent beat and lyrics vaguely about having a crush. He’s being ridiculous, he knows, but he puts it on repeat, anyway. He lets the song play a couple times, working out some basic choreography in his head.
And, Jimin gets up, and he dances. He feels his way through the first verse of the song. When he gets to the chorus, he tries some of the moves he planned out, but they feel a bit awkward, so he waits for the second chorus to rework it. During the bridge, he hears the lyric, “you’re dancing through my mind,” and he almost lies down and gives up. There’s no way those are the actual lyrics. The universe is laughing at him at this point. Jimin imagines Yoongi in front of him, and he puts a hand on his imaginary chest. If he’s going to be ridiculous, might as well go all the way, right? The song starts over again and so does Jimin.
He almost falls over when he sees Yoongi in the mirror after the fourth or fifth rendition of his haphazard choreography.
“Ah!” he screams, eloquently, clutching at his chest. “Hyung, I think you killed me.”
Yoongi laughs, the bastard. “Sorry, I heard the same song 5 times in a row when I was showering, so I figured I would come see what’s going on. Are you working on something?”
Jimin takes a second to catch his breath. “No, I’m just—” exhale “—blowing off some steam.”
Yoongi hums. “You’re making up this choreography on the spot?”
“Well, for the chorus. For the verses I’m just recycling old stuff, for the most part.”
“It’s good,” Yoongi says simply, as if his casual compliment hasn’t just stopped Jimin’s heart completely. God, Jimin really needs to get it the fuck together. “I have to say, though, the bridge section looks pretty whack.”
“Ah, well, there’s—” you “—an imaginary, uh—” an imaginary you “—partner. I have an imaginary dance partner. At that part.”
Yoongi, to Jimin’s horror, walks to the center of the studio and stands in front of him. “Well, what are they doing?” he asks as the song loops again.
This is a nightmare concocted out of the deepest recesses of Jimin’s mind, a nightmare so horrible that he could not have ever consciously conceived of it himself. “Uh,” he says, “Mirroring me? Maybe?”
“Okay,” Yoongi says, as if it’s as simple as that. And, Jimin guesses it is, because Yoongi asks, “How does this part go?” when the chorus comes around again, and so, Jimin dances with Yoongi. He teaches whatever he’s made up to him, and Yoongi laughs and says, “Well, I can’t do that, so,” and modifies the difficult bits to look as absurd as possible. Yoongi’s hamming it up, trying to get a laugh out of him, and it’s working. When the singer croons the lyric, “you’re dancing through my mind,” for the seventh time, Yoongi points to himself and does jazz hands. It takes Jimin two minutes to stop laughing.
“You should buy me food again,” Jimin says after the song has played about ten or fifteen times and Yoongi is a bit sweaty again. “Since we’ve established that I’m not allowed to buy food for you.”
“Okay,” Yoongi says, easily. “How’s your steam? Blown off?”
Jimin thinks, absolutely not. He says, “Something like that.”
In the end, Jimin pretty much blacks out for the recital, like he does for most performances, hyper-focused on the choreography. They hit the final pose and adrenaline is pounding through his veins. He scans the crowd and spots his friends, on their feet, cheering. He bows to the crowd and hugs Hoseok. He exits the stage with the rest of the crew and all the backup dancers, and he sees Yoongi.
Yoongi, who’s wearing the same black t-shirt and joggers as the rest of the backup dancers. Yoongi, who’s just a little sweaty, smiling at him, looking just like he walked out of Jimin’s latest dream. Yoongi, who’s wearing eyeliner.
“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi starts, but he doesn’t finish because Jimin kisses him. He realizes a second too late that he should not have done that. Definitely, he should not have done that. Jimin pulls back, and Yoongi’s eyes are about the size of dinner plates.
“I think you should take me out. On a date,” Jimin says over the sound of his own heartbeat because, apparently, it’s time to shoot his shot.
“Yeah, okay.” Yoongi sounds a little dazed.
Jimin is beaming. “Okay?”
Yoongi smiles back. “Okay.”
Jimin throws his arms around Yoongi’s neck and kisses him again.
(“Yes! ChimChim! Get that dick!” Taehyung screams from across backstage.
Jimin hides his face in Yoongi’s chest and says, “If I kill Taehyung, will you help me hide the body?”
“Give me a date and a time.”)