Jimin the first gentleman

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The crystal vase on the windowsill of the presidential residence is positioned at precisely the right angle. Just like everything else here. Jimin, wearing a suit that pinches his arms, sits on the edge of the sofa, trying to take up as little space as possible.

He's the country's first gentleman. Just now, at a press conference, he spilled a folder of documents, blushed, and mixed up the ambassadors' names twice. Journalists have already written: "The President's shadow: too soft to rule equally." Jimin reread this in the room where he fled twenty minutes into the official reception.

Yoongi found him there. Jacket off, sitting on the couch, his hands clasped around his knees with trembling fingers.

"I'm in their way," Jimin whispered, not looking up. "They want to see a man of steel next to them. But I don't know how."

Yoongi slowly sank down next to him, despite the expensive fabric of his pants. His palm covered the back of Jimin's head, pulling him closer.

Jimin, burying his face in her husband's neck, sobs quietly. Outside, advisers, cameras, and a country that still can't understand how such a gentle man could end up at the helm await.

Yoongi kisses his temple, chastely, like a husband, not a president.

“Okay,” Jimin mumbles, calming down in his strong arms and understanding his husband’s silent message. “I’ll try again. Let’s go back.”