ᴘᴀsᴛᴇʟ ʙᴏʏ. || ᴍ.ʏɢ + ᴘ.ᴊᴍ ✔️

thirty-one: our commonality

He still didn't want to go.

Even with Yoongi's encouragement, assurance, and insisting that this would be beneficial, possibly "clear some suspicions" or whatever, Jimin still felt he would much rather stay in his room. Or just hang out with Yoongi. No one else.

But alas, he had agreed. And so at just a little past eight o'clock Jimin was slipping on his leather jacket and preparing to head out the door, as the plan was to meet up at Yoongi's house and head to the party location together. And Jimin honestly had no idea what time the thing started, but he really wasn't too concerned about being there first. Or even on time, for that matter.

It was around 8:30 when he arrived at Yoongi's door. And he sent his friend a text, not wanting to knock and possibly disturb one of the boy's family members. So he just let Yoongi know he was outside waiting.

To his surprise he didn't have to wait long. Because apparently Yoongi had been waiting for him.

The door was opened, the boy stepped out, then the door was closed again. He turned around.

Black hair, either sprayed or a wig, Jimin didn't know, but that didn't really concern him, all he could focus on was that Yoongi looked. So. Hot.

It was like a completely different person. Not a trace of pastel, of the Yoongi Jimin had seen just earlier that day at school. He now had on a charcoal grey shirt underneath a leather jacket—which evidently wasn't Jimin's he asked to borrow, because Jimin was wearing his—a pair of tight-fitting, dark-blue jeans, and black, laced combat boots.

The bottom of his face was covered by a sickness mask. But by the crinkling in that boy's eyes Jimin could tell he was smiling.

"How do I look?"

Those words alone, slightly muffled due to the mask, caused Jimin's cheeks to become deeply stained by a regretful red hue. Because he, unlike Yoongi, wasn't wearing a mask. So there was nothing to hide it.

He turned his back to Yoongi. Jimin heard him utter a sigh. "I asked you how I look, and you're just gonna ignore me? Jimin, I'm wounded. You wounded me."

"You know how you look," Jimin said under his breath, "now let's go."

"No, I'm serious. I want your opinion. Does it look weird?"

"Different."

"Good different?"

What frustrated Jimin at the moment was that he couldn't tell if Yoongi were intentionally teasing him, or if he genuinely weren't confident about the look and wanted a second opinion. Either way Jimin really didn't want to have to turn around again.

"Jimin, c'mon, you can be honest with me if it looks weird on me." Yoongi put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Is it convincing, at least?"

As much as he hated it, he felt guilty ignoring Yoongi, so Jimin reluctantly turned around again, slowly, yet his heart practically lunged forward at the sight. He wished he had an excuse. An excuse to take Yoongi's face in his hands and kiss him right here.

He was so tempted to pull down that mask.

"So can I can a straight guy rating?"

Jimin made a face at him.

"You know, like, if you were straight, how would you rate me on a scale of 1-10?"

"...I dunno, a five?"

"Ouch. What about a gay guy rating?"

"Why does it matter??"

Yoongi gave an innocent shrug. "Your opinion matters to me."