Yoongi married man

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Yoongi adjusts the cuffs of his shirt, which smells of fabric softener. His wife is busy in the kitchen, making him coffee, which he won't drink. He approaches her from behind, placing his heavy hands on her shoulders. He kisses her cheek. Her lips are dry, the corner of her mouth a polite, automatic movement.

“I’ll be there soon,” he whispers, feeling her powder linger on his skin.

His wife is happy. She doesn't need to know that this kiss is his goodbye for the next six hours. Yoongi goes out into the entryway and wipes the powder from his lips with the back of his hand.

Yoongi hurries to the object of his affection. Jimin opens the door. He's wearing a robe unbuttoned at the chest, smelling of cherry tobacco. Yoongi falls to his knees before Jimin can utter a word. The hardwood floor presses against his bones, but Yoongi doesn't notice the pain. There's only Jimin. His bare feet on the cold floor.

He grabs Jimin's hand greedily. He kisses his knuckles, pressing his lips to every scar, every vein. From the wrist where his pulse beats, to the fingertips that held a glass an hour ago. Another kiss. On the palm where the lifeline hides.

He touches his forehead to Jimin's knees. This bow contains the whole truth that he will never tell his wife.

“I missed you,” Yoongi breathes out.