Trying to behave

Chapter 3

October 2008

'Jimin,' Yoongi mutters, rubbing at his temples. 'If you don't stop-'

'Stop what?' Jimin says, innocence dripping from his face as he blows bubbles into his coke through the straw. 'This?'

'Park Jimin,'

Jimin grins, letting go of his straw and smacking his lips together. 'Okay, okay, I stopped,'

'Thank you,' the older boy groans, pulling his hood up against his face and adjusting his sunglasses as he miserably squints across the school yard. It's too bright everywhere. It's too bright inside his head.

'Yah, you okay?' Jimin asks, staring at Yoongi and opening his arms from where he's perched on the bench beside him. 'You want cuddles?'

Yoongi nods, lets out a pitiful whine and curls against the smaller boy, throwing his legs over Jimin's thighs until he's practically lying across him, head pillowed on his shoulder.

'Fuck this stupid ass test,' he moans, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose until they're bumping into his eyelashes.

'You can go home after, okay? Okay?' Jimin repeats in Korean for good measure, just in case Yoongi's brain cells are dead.

'Okay,' he mumbles back, in some weird mix of both languages and the younger boy snorts, before petting Yoongi's sweaty fringe that's miserably sticking out from under his hood.

'You didn't have to come today, yknow. You could've just retaken it. You look like you're dying,'

'And rememorized all that fucking history shit? No. Fuck no. I'm prepared. I'm gonna fail this with dignity. And then I'm gonna die,' Yoongi says matter of factly, nodding like he's just dropped some big scientific theory. Jimin snorts again, pushing his finger into his forehead.

'Yah,' the older whines. 'I'm sick, don't hit me,'

'Diva,' Jimin mutters, resorting to stroking his fringe instead and Yoongi sighs in relief, even though it does nothing to dull the pain throbbing inside his skull.

'I swear,' he mumbles in quiet Korean and Jimin has to lean in real close to hear what he's saying; both clear signs that Yoongi is ready to log out of life. 'If this test wasn't so important, I would've shot Columbus in the dick a long time ago,'

'Yah, Min Yoongi, what are you saying?' Jimin says, huffing out a laugh. 'Are you asleep?' he adds cautiously, when Yoongi doesn't reply for half a minute.

The older lets out a rattling snore in response.

Jimin should definitely get paid for this one of these days.

In Yoongi's defence, it isn't like he meant to get sick.

He'd just been at home, nose buried deep in his history textbook, because the test that their snotty ass teacher had inflicted on them out of nowhere was apparently going to count for 50% of their final exam, and Yoongi was determined to not fail. He hadn't failed a day in his life and he wasn't going to start now.

So, to prepare properly, he'd politely declined his parents' offer to go out to a Sunday lunch and hangout with the Parks in favour of some last minute revision and a promise to take out the trash. And it was going great; it was, he had pizza and coke and he was cursing Columbus with every fibre of his being. It was grand.

Until he actually remembered to take out the trash, but by then it was 4pm and it was horribly dark outside-fuck autumn-and raining so hard, Yoongi was concerned the gods were going to pour it all at once and call it a day. But, he's a man, he told himself, what's a little rain in front of a small chore?