Jimin1

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The wind from the river carried icy, stinging dust that clung to his face. Jimin flicked his lighter, shielding the small flame from the gust with his hand, and brought the cigarette to Yoongi's lips. Yoongi, without taking his eyes off the murky water of the canal, took the filter between his lips. A pause. As always. A closeness just an arm's length away, where you can transmit warmth but not feel a pulse.

"I'll be back late tomorrow, don't wait up," Jimin's voice was velvety, as it always was when he lied. "The investor meeting will drag on."

Yoongi nodded, watching the ash from his cigarette fall and disappear into the darkness. He knew there would be no meeting. There was the hotel room number on the waterfront, written down in the notebook Jimin had so forgetfully left in the pocket of his last jacket. And there was the male voice on the phone yesterday, asking not "Park Jimin," but "Darling," with a tone so cloyingly saccharine.

"Okay," Yoongi exhaled smoke. His fingers instinctively reached out to adjust Jimin's scarf, brushing against the skin at his temple. "Dress warmer. It's going to be windy."

He felt Jimin's jaw tense under his fingers. A liar always expects to be exposed, even when they're no longer feared. Especially when they're no longer feared. Yoongi knew everything: about the missing money from the account, about the old letters from someone Jimin called "just a friend from the past," about the bruise on his rib, which Jimin attributed to a fall on a wet floor, but the imprint on his skin was too distinct, like the shape of his fingers.

He couldn't leave. Not because he believed in correction. But because this pain had become the most certain thing in his world. Love could be faked, but this rotten, clear certainty could not. Each new lie was like a seam, crudely pulling the edges of his reality together, and he could no longer imagine himself without these scars.

Jimin turned to him, and something finally honest—a flash of panic—flickered in his eyes. His hand, cold from the wind, touched Yoongi's cheek.

“You’re so cold,” Jimin whispered.