DMF: Yoongi’s POV — While Jimin Naps

A conversation in his own car, with Jimin’s ex AND Jimin’s brother, while the man himself obnoxiously snores away, was the last thing Yoongi expected to be on his agenda for the day.

But alas, here he is, stewing in the silence that’s fallen over them while in the aftermath of Jimin’s sleeping pretense. Yoongi keeps his eyes on the road, but it’s been a while since anybody spoke, and he’s been sensing that Jimin isn’t exactly faking a nap anymore.

“He really fell asleep, didn’t he?” Taemin pipes up quietly, leaning forward to peek at Jimin’s face.

Yoongi glances at his marigold’s sleeping form, eyes drawn to Jimin’s right cheek, squished against the window. His little puffs of breath creating a patch of fog on the glass. “Yeah. I think he is. Jimin-ah?”

No response. Instead, Jimin stirs and mumbles something incoherent under his breath. Yoongi has to stifle the urge to reach out and… and do what? Hug him while driving?

Get a grip, he scorns himself.

Taemin hums from the backseat. “Jiminie gets cold easily.”

How does he know that? What kind of intimate situations did Taemin and Jimin share for him to have information like that, and how much history do they have together? Yoongi would he lying if he said he isn’t feeling a little… ousted, and intimidated by Taemin’s presence. Not that he has anything against the guy—he seems genuinely nice, Yoongi’ll give him that.

Yoongi tamps down his thoughts and glances at his rearview mirror to meet Taemin’s inquisitive gaze with a nod. “Could you pass me the blanket from the duffel bag behind you?”

Once, he and Seokjin had spent a night in the Audi (they’d gotten lost trying to find a seafood restaurant in Gangwon for one of Seokjin’s mukbangs, and ended up losing their way back after sundown), and ever since then they’d made a point to keep some ‘necessities’ in the car in case anything like that happens again. Gotta be prepared for everything.

Taemin turns and grabs the duffel bag to pull out a fuzzy grey blanket. As the car enters the city and begins joining the heavy brunt of rush-hour Seoul traffic, Yoongi slows down and pauses to take the blanket. He reaches over and drapes the blanket over Jimin, making sure to tuck it under his chin.

“This kid,” Yoongi mutters begrudgingly. “Doesn’t take care of himself well enough.”

“Hyung was too burned out taking care of everyone else,” Jihyun pipes up softly.

Something inside Yoongi clenches. He’d guessed as much—or at least, he’d supposed that Jimin must have had a difficult time during the years he was away for him to change so drastically. He turns and shoots Jimin’s little brother a curious glance, a silent request for elaboration.

“He worked two to three part-time jobs back to back just to save up enough to return to Seoul,” Taemin murmurs, eyes filled with a severe look as he gazes at Jimin. “Took a toll on him.”

“I’ll bet,” Yoongi says quietly, inching the car forward amidst the crawling traffic. “He… he wasn’t the same cheerful guy I used to know, when he first came back.”

Taemin trains his gaze on him. “How do you guys know each other?”

Yoongi chortles under his breath, flicking a quick look at Jimin. “We go way back. Used to be penpals in elementary school. Stayed in and out of touch for a bit after.” Until their communication got completely cut off when the Parks moved abroad. Not that Yoongi would divulge that.

“Ahh.” Taemin leans back in the Audi’s leather seat. “Childhood friends, huh. What was he like, back then?”

Yoongi is low-key glad that Taemin and Jihyun didn’t volunteer to tell him what happened to Jimin in Perth—it seems like such a personal story for Jimin himself to tell, one that Yoongi would be willing to wait to hear directly from him someday.

What was he like? He ducks his head with a small smile as a flood of memories replay in his mind—Jimin laughing carefree, sitting on his hands while fidgeting in a café, pouting at Yoongi at the slightest inconvenience. How should he even begin to describe Park Jimin? Volatile. Expressive beyond language. He’s something more than any vocabulary can put together.

Weaving through the Seoul traffic, Yoongi steals another look at Jimin’s sleeping form.

“Bright,” he says, leaving out tenses in his answer. Jimin’s inner brightness isn’t a was or has-been, but it isn’t quite present now, either. It’s just there, still, waiting for time to radiate. “Just bright.”