having thoughts about roommates jihope, but before they were roommates they were strangers bumping into each other at a local cafe.

literally. jimin got rammed into AND soaked with his own iced coffee.

for jimin, it’s already been a long day. a job interview in the morning that he doesn’t feel good about, physical therapy was especially harsh this time, and he has to call his parents /again/ to tell them that yes he CAN work and study and fight with doctors every fucking day.

so here he is, only two in the afternoon and already at the end of his rope as some guy blunders into him and gets jimin’s clothes soaked with coffee.

jimin knows he has a short temper. he’s working on it.

he will hold his breath and Not Scream.

“oh shi- are you okay? oh my god i’m so sorry-“

jimin starts to offer a stiff but polite ‘it’s okay’ but this is when he actually looks up to the person who hit him, and-

what the fuck.

what the fuck, is this guy a model???

brown skin and a perfectly located beauty mark on his upper lip, perfectly styled black hair. sunglasses and a simple white dress shirt, orange jeans with the cuffs rolled up, and an /expensive/ looking watch on one wrist.

even his hands are pretty.

calm the fuck down, jimin.

it was pouring this morning, but he /literally sees/ the sun break through outside as he meets the stranger’s gaze, giving him a golden silhouette.

jimin is so damn gay, he can’t even remember what he was upset about.

this guy seems distressed enough for both of them, though.

“i’ll buy you another coffee? oh godddd your shirt is ruined forever. fuck a coffee, does this place do gift cards? i’ll get you a gift card.”

“um,” says jimin.

the man removes his sunglasses (is that a real diamond bracelet), eyebrows pinched anxiously.

“uh,” says jimin.

the bell over the cafe door chimes as a patron squeezes around jimin to leave.

“it’s not ruined.”

the man stops biting his lip. “eh?”

“the shirt. i can..” jimin sighs, shrugging. “i’ll just look up how to get the stains out when i get home.”

“but i-“

a staff member rolls a mop bucket over with furious intent, forcing the pair to scatter out of her way with stammered apologies.

jeonghan, who always knows jimin likes whipped cream on his iced coffee, passes him a roll of paper towels and offers to remake his drink.

“i’ve had enough of coffee for today, but thanks.”

the stranger winces. jimin isn’t sure why he’s still here. shouldn’t he have modeling stuff to do? those have to be 500,000 won shoes at /least./

jimin grits his teeth and sits on one of the cafe stools, ripping a towel off.

for a while, the world narrows down to jimin, the trashcan jeonghan dragged over for him, and the cold coffee gradually soaking through these paper towels. his legs are about to start screaming.

the bell chimes once. then it chimes again.

someone clears their throat. jimin crumples up another coffee-stained towel and dumps it.

“jimin-ssi?”

he looks up. the model is back- now with a duffel bag. he pats a hand on it.

“they won’t be the best fit, but these are some dry, /clean/ clothes if y-“

“you know my name?”

“it was on the cup,” the model squeaks.

“...oh.” jimin stares at the duffel. “listen, you don’t have to-“

“of course i do, i made a mistake and put you in an embarrassing situation! you don’t even have a jacket!! this is just-“ he flaps a hand. “part of the apology. okay?”

for someone so visually stunning, he sure is awkward. but he does seem genuinely sorry. not pitying.

jimin loathes pity.

“..apology accepted.”

the model has a heart-shaped smile as he hands the duffle over. it’s a little dizzying.

getting coffee spilled on him should have been what finally ruined jimin’s day, and yet..

instead it leads to being introduced to jung hoseok, who smells like honey and pears, coos back at pigeons, and has a painfully adorable laugh.

also, a lamborghini.

he says jimin isn’t allowed to steal it, but he’s happy to drive him around seoul anytime.

yes, /any/ time. apparently hoseok has quite the flexible schedule.

jimin thinks he deserves a medal for not asking if hoseok if flexible too.

he’s left with a phone number, told not to worry about returning the clothes (gucci?!), and then hoseok is gone and jimin is alone in his tiny, woefully quiet home.

he still has to call his parents. still has to study. still has to do all of this again tomorrow.

his legs hurt.

at first, jimin thinks the phone number was left as something of a joke. it’s three weeks later, drunk, that he actually calls it.

“did you mean it when you said you’d drive me anytime, hoseok-ssi?”

he did.

if jimin was sober, he’d feel bad for doubting.

they text after that, and he’s not sure why, but three bottles of soju in is the only time he seems to have the nerve to actually call and see hoseok in person.

maybe he’s just too pretty.

maybe jimin has to be drunk to realize he hates being lonely.

hoseok never asks questions. he never pities, either. just arrives in his car anytime, every time jimin calls, just like he promised.

maybe it’s weird that he takes an offer to some stranger so seriously.

jimin thinks he might like weird.

hoseok doesn’t talk much, either. it’s odd.. in texts and on the day of their first encounter the man is nothing but loud, the living personification of an exclamation point.

but on the nights they drive, he’s quiet. eyes on the road and shuffling through sad, mellow playlists.

it’s on these near-wordless nights that jimin thinks he learns the most about hoseok.

he likes songs about the winter. skips songs about the summer.

he has 23 favorite little pop-up bars and restaurants throughout seoul, pausing their drives sometimes to get food.

his favorite color is green. jimin knows this because he slurred out a guess one night and hoseok smiled at him with eyes twinkling.

even when quiet, hoseok is in constant motion. bouncing a leg, tapping fingers, grooving his head along to a beat.

and he’s observant- by their third drive hoseok has a supply of painkillers and single-use cold and heat packs in the glove box.

“you tryna woo me, rich boy?”

a soft laugh, hoseok’s lips curving gently. “just being prepared, jimin-ssi.”

by autumn, hoseok is taking jimin out for drives nearly every night. he doesn’t sleep well without them. it only takes one bottle of soju now to have enough courage to hit the call button.

it’s the first time hoseok asks him a question.

“are you.. running from something?”

“what?”

hoseok reaches, turns the volume down and watches the road instead of jimin. knowing by now that jimin hates to be stared at when he’s caught off guard.

“i asked if-“

“no, i heard, i just-“ he huffs out a breath. “what makes you think i’m /running/ from something?”

“you have an unusual attachment to a man you met one time in a very humiliating circumstance.” he lifts a finger from the wheel before jimin speaks. “that’s a self callout, too. you just..”

he gnaws at his lip. jimin feels something venomous curl in his gut.

if the rich guy with a fucking sports car is about to lecture him-

“you seem more worn out each time i see you,” hoseok finally says. “and since i see you nearly every night now, that’s even more concerning. i thought i could help by just being here when you call, but now..”

now he thinks jimin is too feeble to take care of himself? who the fuck does he think he-

“i’ve been reading up on chronic pain, and i’ve seen that there can be really long episodes where everything is just /worse./ is that what this is?”

he’s been.. what?

“if-“ hoseok’s fingers are drumming on the wheel, anxious. “if that’s what it is, i want to know how i can help.“

jimin is trying to be angry. he SHOULD be angry. hoseok is doubting him just like everyone else, trying to be a crutch just like everyone else.

he scoffs.

“well, you could start by working my 10 hour shifts for me.”

“i already have a job.”

of course he does. jimin rolls his. “do you even /need/ that?”

“probably not.” hoseok turns onto a long, empty street. the tress are nearly leafless. “but since i already have it, i could..”

“you could what?”

“..this is gonna piss you off.”

jimin’s eyes narrow. hoseok pulls off to the side of the road, but keeps staring straight ahead. he inhales.

“i could pay for it.”

jimin blinks.

“all of it,” hoseok continues. “rent, textbooks, food, what- whatever you want.”

jimin is silent. he feels anger, so much anger, but for once it has nothing to surge up out of his mouth with. so it just sits in his gut and festers.

“please know i’m not trying to say that you’re weak,” hoseok murmurs. “far from it.”

jimin scoffs. it’s all he can manage.

“jimin-ah..”

he stares at his nails. hoseok lets out a sigh, pensive.

“you’re living alone, far away from anything familiar, working full time and putting yourself through classes while your own body is actively trying to sabotage you. you’re the strongest human i know.”

“but we’re also friends, or-“ hoseok hesitates. “i think of you as my friend. and i’d be an awful friend if i didn’t try to help. i want to help.”

it’s quiet, almost so quiet that jimin doesn’t hear it over the purr of the motor and the crooning of the stereo.

“need to.”

jimin’s anger meets the cold hurt of realization.

he’s been on many drives with hoseok. on the nearly wordless nights, he’s learned the most.

one of those nights was in summer, and it had ended early.

dusk was only starting to turning the sky purple and orange, but hoseok had paused their drive to walk through a park, somehow knowing jimin need to stretch his legs.

a grassy space was being cleared of birthday decorations, a still-crowned princess still playing by the trees.

she wasn’t left alone, an older boy swooping in to give hugs and ask if she had a good birthday. they looked alike, siblings with mirrored traits.

jimin had turned to hoseok to comment on how cute they had been, but..

hoseok is quiet often. but it’s a peaceful quiet. a quiet he smiles in just as often as he smiles in his loud moments.

in that park, looking at a brother and his little sister, hoseok’s face bore nothing but grief.

jimin hadn’t said anything.

‘need to’ hoseok has said.

jimin’s an only child. he’s never been responsible for anyone but himself. but if you had someone you were always supposed to look after, and then you didn’t have them anymore..

what do you do then?

jimin doesn’t know.

hoseok’s playlist is still crooning mournfully. the honey-and-pear scent in the car has grown almost suffocating, but in a strangely comforting way. the wind outside sends the last leaves twisting down the street.

“i’ll think about it,” jimin says.

he looks over. hoseok’s eyes are wide. “w- wh- what?”

he’s cute when he stammers. jimin forgot. “i’ll think about it,” he repeats. hoseok is still staring at him, streetlights reflecting off his iris.

“really?”

“really.”

“don’t rush me, though,” jimin warns. “you’re asking me to make major life changes. i’ll unfriend you forever if you push it.”

“that would make me very sad.”

“then don’t fuck it up, hyung!” he grins. “i don’t have work or class tomorrow, wanna drive all night to the beach?”

“catch the sunrise?” hoseok asks.

“cringey, but alright.”

“crin- it was YOUR ide-“ hoseok huffs out a chuckle, dimples popping as he pulls back onto the street. “fine.”

jimin smiles. “good.”

jimin falls asleep before they reach the beach. he wakes with hoseok’s blankets (in the trunk for emergencies) draped over him.

the sunrise is red.

hoseok is radiant.

they return to seoul, and hoseok doesn’t push. he still comes whenever jimin calls.

jimin thinks it over.

in the end, he only has one question.

hoseok already has an answer.

a month after their drive to the ocean, when the last of the sand is finally cleaned out of hoseok’s stupidly expensive car-

jimin moves into hoseok’s penthouse.

in hoseok’s wallet, carefully tucked in a zipped pocket, there is a single old receipt. wrinkled in most places, torn in some others, an order for three meals to go.

on the back of it, written in sloppy blue ink, is a note.

Hi! These are for you :) Please eat well !!

I work here, the address is on the front of the receipt. If you want a hot meal anytime, just ask for Jimin. ^_^

(P.S. I hid some cash in the bag for you, make sure to grab it before the steam gets it soggy!!)

hoseok hasn’t read the note in years; it’s long since memorized, three lines of text that became a driving force.

even a wolf half starved out of his own mind can remember a scent. even a runaway jung knows to repay his debts.

park jimin. sunlight and peaches. the scent of an orchard in the height of summer. so often tainted in distress, sunlight replaced with vodka.

but this is alright. peach vodka has a sweetness, too. and with a new chance to flourish, surely.. surely that orchard will bloom again.

jimin will rekindle his own light. and now that hoseok’s purpose has finally come home, he can breathe.

he doesn’t know what happens next, but-

“YAH! HYUNG! you’re gonna make me carry ALL of these boxes??”

he’s more than happy to start.

—> okay i am ! ending this thread here, it’s 4:30am and this whole thing is probably a mess but jihope were on my mind and i heckin went for it and now here we are !! good night y’all!!