Trying to behave

Chapter 19

January 2016

Thursday, the 7th, 12:03pm

New York, USA

Jimin likes to think he's a colourful, interesting person with a cute face and a nice sense of humour and all that, but there's this thing about him that can be inconvenient at times.

And it sucks dick, for lack of a better word.

He's never been very poetic, in the general sense. Always blunt, always stuttering and never knows what the fuck to say, which is kind of an ass-fuck considering he couldn't ever shut up as a kid. Everything mostly just...slips out his mouth without consulting his brain at all. Entirely.

Embarrassing, really.

That, and Jimin doesn't like beaches all that much.

There's something about sand that's always pissed him off, the way it used to slip through his fingers when he tried to take it home as a child but his hate might be rooted in that sole fact so it doesn't really count.

Wet sand, though.

Wet sand can choke itself.

Couple that with sea breeze and gross water and he much prefers to run the opposite direction.

So no. Okay. Maybe Jimin doesn't like beaches at all. And he's not deep.

But he likes Yoongi. A lot. And maybe that should be a problem.

Because he's somehow not that angry his boyfriend's talked him into coming here, to a beach for a date in the middle of winter so he can freeze his balls off on gross sand, because it's kind of clear today-no snow, god bless-and the faint sunlight falls across Yoongi's face in a lot of great ways that he would probably be able to explain better if he could put his wild, hormonal emotions into actual words. But he can't.

He's in love, though, in too deep to pay attention to his inconvenient surroundings.

And yes. Jimin's definitely in trouble.

Beaches are still gross, though. Sort of.

'Why a beach?' he whines lowly under his breath, adjusting his ass where he's stubbornly resting it on a plastic bag because he might like Yoongi but he does not like sand. Especially not on his ass. An ass that is pleasantly not sore because bar nights mean Yoongi and loving cuddles and he's never been more grateful for his boyfriend than he is now, but he could've passed on the beach shit. 'Why not a fucking, I don't know. Aquarium or something?'

Jimin doesn't particularly like aquariums either.

What does he like, he vaguely wonders. Complaining, maybe? He does like to complain about everything a fair bit, at least but-

'Since when do you like staring at fish, Minnie?' Yoongi raises an eyebrow up at him, sprawled out on the sand like it's nothing, no plastic bag and all and in his clothes and everything. A demon of sorts.

An alien species.

'I don't,' Jimin doesn't. 'I just hate that a little less than I hate beaches. Sand is gross and stuff, don't you think?'

Maybe he should've clarified this earlier, so he wouldn't be suffering out here like this.

'Why didn't you just say so, aish. I wouldn't have brought you,' he looks pretty like this, Jimin thinks, tamping down the I can't say no to you that rises up like bile in his throat, a backhanded love confession almost. Not now, not when his boyfriend looks like a million dollars with his blond hair sticking up in odd places, an eyebrow raised and accent thick in his voice along with the adamant refusal to just speak Korean when it's the two of them. He's nothing short of breath-taking and maybe the sea breeze should be bothering Jimin more than it is, but it's not. 'I swear you've always liked beaches, though? Remember you used to drag me into the water when you were little, and now you're out here saying-,'