reheatedcoffee

sometimes yoongi wonders if this is how it's always going to be.

they're either fucking or fighting, shouting at each other's faces or ignoring each other. either way it's a constant war and yoongi is just— tired.

so fucking tired.

there was a time when his world revolved around jimin, when he was twenty and the only thing he had to worry about was passing his classes and keeping jimin happy. in hindsight, maybe that's why jimin had spared him a glance despite his endless suitors. maybe that's why jimin had stayed.

yoongi had time, and when he didn't, he made some. for jimin. all for jimin. he doesn't have much now. wonders why jimin wouldn't make some for him.

where are you? he stares at the text he'd sent two hours ago. still no answer. yoongi tosses himself onto the bed and lets his phone roll off his hand like some useless contraption before he could succumb to the urge to send another message.

he reminds himself it wouldn't end well. jimin doesn't like being restrained. he calls it being put on a leash; yoongi calls it being in a relationship.

it's why they'd broken up the first time. jimin values his freedom more than anything. yoongi didn't peg himself for the jealous type but something about seeing other eyes on jimin makes him seethe. makes him go silent for days on end without telling jimin why. a fucking mess of a relationship they were in.

but they were twenty then. young and foolish and maybe a little too hot-blooded. they're hitting twenty six now. yoongi's lost that temper. jimin values his freedom a little less, more willing to compromise. they had some time apart and yoongi swears he knew they'd last this time.

they'd learned how to tread on thin ice. and whenever it feels like it's about to break, they fuck.

i miss you, yoongi types out anyway, leaving it unsent. he can't remember how jimin tastes. can't even remember how he smells. too many nights spent alone, the other side of the bed cold. he could ask jimin to move in. that'd give them more time, but that would also mean more fights.

yoongi's too tired to fight. he's fought one too many battles when they were younger and now he's out of strength. the fire in him has burned out.

he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. if he concentrates hard enough he thinks he can still catch a whiff of jimin's shampoo on his bed sheet. pathetic.

“i miss you,” he whispers at the wall, cheek pressed against the mattress. it doesn't take long for sleep to come. in his dream, the wall whispers back.

❀

tae's in town. went out drinking left my phone at home sorry

it feels like playing a game of two truths and a lie. not exactly what yoongi wishes to be doing at six a.m. on a sunday.

he rolls on his back and rubs the sleep from his eyes. the screen brightens automatically and yoongi squints, turning down the brightness just so it wouldn't blind him. the timestamp reads 3.19 a.m. jimin most likely wouldn't be awake until noon, but yoongi replies right away anyway.

oh cool want me to come over today? watch a movie or smth

yoongi falls back asleep with his phone on his stomach. when he wakes up again, he heads straight to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

there's jimin's cup on the shelf, long since used. yoongi leans against the counter and stares at it until the machine stops whirring. dunking an ice cube into his glass, yoongi tries to recall what he used to do when jimin used to stay over during weekends. it feels like ages ago.

they'd fuck slowly in the morning until the remnants of sleep wear off. take a long, lazy shower until the water turns cold. yoongi would make them breakfast and jimin would kiss the taste of coffee off of his tongue, the news playing in the background.

yoongi gulps. tries to remember the last time his couch was occupied by two. suddenly his americano tastes unpleasantly bitter.

jimin's reply comes sometime after noon, just as yoongi had expected.

nah it's ok tae's staying over

a familiar ache spreads through yoongi's chest. the worst part is he can't do anything about it. thin ice. he doesn't want to test his luck.

ok. call me later?

yoongi tosses his phone onto the bed and goes about his day. he knows better than to wait for a reply.

❀

i think i left my white shirt at your place, yoongi texts. need it for tomorrow. got a meeting

well come get it?

the truth is yoongi doesn't need it. he has five other white shirts at home and he's had half of his clothes at jimin's place for months now, clothes he doesn't think he wants back.

they'd smell too much like jimin at this point. he's not gonna put his heart through that.

but he needs an excuse to come over. as sad as it sounds, he needs an excuse to see his boyfriend without seeming too clingy because he'd just seen him two days ago—as if that was enough. he misses jimin all the time.

the ride to jimin's apartment feels both familiar and foreign, like a distant memory he recently relived. he used to go there all the time, used to drop jimin off after dinner or in the morning and kiss him goodbye before he leaves the car. again he finds himself wondering where they went wrong and why.

(was it him? was it jimin? because it certainly isn't timing. not this time around.)

the elevator takes him to the sixth floor and yoongi punches in the passcode out of memory. when the door swings open, he finds jimin lounging on the couch, the TV nothing more than a background noise. a usual sight.

“oh, you're here.”

yoongi presses a chaste kiss to the top of jimin's head. i've missed you. “what were you doing?”

“nothing,” jimin rolls on his side and gets up. “was waiting for you.”

“yeah?” yoongi's lips curl into a smile. he tells his heart to calm down, not letting hope bloom knowing it will only wither soon. “miss me?”

jimin hums in lieu of an answer, wrapping his arms around yoongi's waist and burying his face in yoongi's chest. “have you showered?”

“no.”

“good,” jimin says. “shower with me.”

moments of peace are rare, but they remind yoongi of why he's still doing this. why he's still choosing to stay even though the war is so fucking tiring.

jimin melts under his touch, soft sounds escaping his lips as yoongi massages his scalp. yoongi wants to stop time and frame this moment, live here forever. but five more minutes in the shower and jimin's bound to catch a cold.

yoongi steps out of the bathroom still basked in the afterglow of being in love. of being reminded by the small intimacy that he's in love. the tender smile won't go away, now a permanent fixture on his face.

he walks into jimin's room and finds the younger rummaging through his closet, already fully dressed. “your shirt,” jimin tosses the piece of clothing onto the bed. yoongi almost forgot about his excuse.

“thanks.”

“gonna get going now?”

yoongi freezes, almost too stunned to speak. “you think i came here just for this?”

jimin shrugs. “i don't know. why are you so worked up?”

yoongi's too tired. too damn tired for a fight. but he's even more tired of the war. how much longer do they have?

“i came here to see my boyfriend, actually.”

“oh.” there's a hint of surprise in jimin's voice, which makes yoongi wonder why it hadn't crossed jimin's mind. “then stay, i guess.”

“do you want me to stay?”

jimin blinks once. twice. “where did that come from?”

yoongi's never been good at words. never been good at saying them out loud. even at the peak of his disappointment, he doesn't know what to say to make jimin understand.

“do you?”

“fuck you're being weird,” jimin shakes his head, heading out to the living room. “stay if you want, leave if you don't. beer's in the fridge.”

and then it hits yoongi. it's not that jimin doesn't want him to stay. watching jimin's back as he walks away, yoongi's face falls.

jimin's indifferent. somehow, it hurts more than a rejection.

yoongi picks up his shirt, and then pieces of his heart from the floor.

war's over. their time is up.

what were we even fighting for?