Min Yoongi (7)

The station smelled of coffee and old papers. Jimin sat on a chair opposite the desk where Yoongi was writing something, eyes down. His handcuffs had been removed ten minutes ago—a formality, a tribute to protocol. Everyone in this station knew Park Jimin by name. And by article.

"Are you serious?" Yoongi put his pen down and finally looked at him. "Again?"

Jimin shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, even though his heart was already tap dancing in his throat. He was always like that—as soon as Yoongi looked at him, all his feigned bravado crumbled like cheap paint.

— The corner store. Again. Stole a chocolate bar.

"I didn't steal," Jimin stretched his legs under the table, accidentally—or perhaps not—hitting Yoongi's foot with his shoe. "I forgot to pay."

• You forget to pay for the third time this month.

— Maiden memory.

Yoongi snorted—shortly, almost soundlessly—and Jimin caught the sound like a gift. He lived for seconds like that. For the way Yoongi shook his head, the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose, the way that wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows—stubborn, painfully familiar.

“You did it on purpose,” Yoongi said quietly.

It wasn't a question.

Jimin froze. The printer was humming in the station, someone was arguing on the phone behind the wall, but here, between them, the air was thick as syrup. Yoongi looked at him—directly, without the usual police fatigue. As if he saw right through him. As if he knew.

• Why are you doing this, Jimin-ah?

His heart sank. Jimin swallowed. He could have laughed it off. He could have said something about being bored, about free food, about how it was warmer inside the station than outside. But Yoongi's gaze made it impossible to lie.

“You know why,” Jimin said, his voice trembling treacherously.

Silence. Yoongi didn't look away. On the contrary, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Now there was no more than half a meter between them. Jimin could smell his cologne—something woody, with a slightly bitter note. Or maybe it was the smell of coffee. Or maybe it was just Yoongi.

“I know,” he exhaled.