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Jimin would’ve been content to spend their month of fake dating hanging out with Jihoon only to come home and tell his mom that he spent the afternoon with Yoongi, an easy half-truth that allows him to continue the ruse without totally lying to his mother, but, after a few days of Jimin spending all his time away, his mom sat him down and promised him that she accepted him and loved him all the same and didn’t mind if he and Yoongi wanted to spend time there, as well, that Jimin didn’t have to hide from her anymore.

Jimin absolutely doesn’t get annoyed that her not believing in him the first time was the only reason he ended up having to pretend to hang out with Yoongi at least three times a week, (“For the sake of believability, hyung, what kind of boyfriend am I if I don’t want to spend any time with you?”), and instead just invites Yoongi over after work.

Which, is how Jimin ends up lying sideways across his bed, head hanging down over the side with Yoongi sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the mattress. He’s just close enough, and at the perfect height, that if Jimin turns his head and blows gently, he can hit Yoongi’s ear, making the older boy flinch and grumble. He’s done it four times since noticing their proximity.

“I’m going to break up with you right now and go downstairs and tell your mom that you’re an asshole,” Yoongi mutters after the fifth time, swatting weakly at Jimin’s mouth.

“Fake break up,” Jimin corrects, jerking back to avoid Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi scowls at him, and Jimin tries not to laugh at how funny the expression looks from upside down.

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, looking towards the door, away from Jimin, “Fake. Whatever. If you’re just going to try to annoy me, I’m leaving.”

Yoongi gets up and reaches over Jimin for his book bag, hanging off Jimin’s headboard. Jimin reaches up and catches his wrist, “Wait.”

“I do actually have to go,” Yoongi tells him. Jimin refrains from insinuating that Yoongi probably has nothing better to do; he’s learned it’s a bad idea.

“That’s fine,” Jimin shrugs as well as he can in his awkward position. He doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s arm, “I just have to ask you something first.”

“Why didn’t you ask me when I got here an hour ago? Or while you sat humming in my ear for twenty minutes?” Yoongi yanks out of Jimin’s grasp, snatching up his belongings before Jimin can try to stop him again.

“I just forgot,” Jimin claims, defensively. Placing his hands on the edge of the mattress, he carefully drags himself back up until his head is fully supported again. Sitting up, Jimin crosses his legs and leans back against his headboard.

“So?” Yoongi watches him impatiently, folding his arms over his chest after he gets his backpack settled on his shoulders, “What is it?”

“There’s, well, it’s like, a dance competition? Sort of? The night after tomorrow, at around eight,” Jimin starts to explain, suddenly shy, “It’s just a showcase, with the studio I go to, and we’ve been practicing for a long time and there’s gonna be some people there so if I do well it could mean a lot for my future and I wanted to know if you could come?”

Yoongi seems surprised and maybe a little touched at the request, for a brief second, before his features settle back into their usual look of vague disinterest. He glances down at his phone, flicks the screen a few times, and then tells Jimin that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to make It.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” Jimin is only pleading a little, really, and he’s definitely not begging. He doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard. His mother would understand if he said Yoongi had to work, whether or not that’s why Yoongi rejects him.

“I might,” Yoongi decides after a pause, “Do you really want me there?”

“My mom will think it’s weird if you’re not there,” Jimin informs him, shaking his hands too frantically, like it might erase the idea that Yoongi’s presence at the show is that important to him, even though part of him just wants Yoongi to witness, for himself, how well Jimin’s natural talent and hard work have come together to make him one of the studio’s best dancers.

“Of course,” Yoongi snorts a little, and Jimin doesn’t understand why, “Your mom.”

“It’s not a big deal, okay, I’ll just tell her you have to work,” Jimin offers.

“I do have to work. It’s what a job entails. I can’t just drop shit whenever some kid wants some dumb bullshit from me, so, unless you’re paying me for it, I can’t miss work just so your mom thinks I’m a good boyfriend,” Yoongi sounds harsher than Jimin thinks is necessary, for the situation, but he doesn’t get a chance to say it, Yoongi ducking out with a not-that-apologetic, “sorry, kid.”






















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