storm ; [yoonmin || bts]
Pairing: Park Jimin x Min Yoongi
Genre: angst, kinda smut
Music: first love - BTS / sad piano music tbh
Plot: Jimin’s caught out in a storm, and forced to park his car in a nearby neighbourhood. By chance, he crosses paths with his former lover, Yoongi, and feelings of bitterness, regret, and lust emerge in the tight space of Jimin’s car.
Word Count: 3,600
The windshield wipers moved furiously, batting the rain out of the way. However, not a second later, it would be covered by the raindrops once more; whatever actions he did was futile against the aggressive storm. Wind howled outside, sending leaves flying from their branches, the thunder roaring in the distance, lighting flashing and illuminating the surrounding sky. The rain beat down on the roof of his car, loudly and angrily, similar to a kid throwing a tantrum.
A loud clap of thunder made him jump in his own skin, and his hand yanked the steering wheel to the side, his car swerving onto the side of the road.
Shit, he mentally cursed. Thank god there were no other cars on the highway, it was him and him alone, caught in the misfortune of driving home after a drunken party at one of his friends. The rain was falling down hard, blurring the windshield and his line of sight, therefore he had no choice but to turn out to the nearest exit.
He kept driving for a while longer, praying that he wouldn’t get into an accident of any sort, before he parked the car to the side of the road in a small neighbourhood.
Checking his phone, he opened up the maps to see where he was. It had turned out that he was in a neighbourhood an hour away from his place, and he sighed knowing that he could never get home safely, with how terrible the current weather was. His fingers dancing on the screen, he had opened up the messages app and was furiously typing away to his roommate Hoseok, attempting to explain why he wasn’t home yet. Just as he finished the message and pressed send, the signal bar on his phone glitched a couple times, before the two words ‘No Service’ sent his heart dropping down to his stomach.
He wasn’t much of a curser, but he felt like one when a string of angry swears fell out of his mouth. They sounded bizarre coming from him, his sweet, angelic voice producing bitter words of frustration at the weather that was hindering him from returning home.
The watch on his wrist showed the time, the two hands forming eight thirty three.
Knowing that he had no choice but to sleep out here in the car as the storm showed no signs of ceasing, he groaned internally, slumping down in his seat. Unbuckling his seat belt, he attempted to make himself more comfortable, preparing for a night in the cramped space of his vehicle.
Leaning back into his seat, he started playing a random mobile game he had downloaded a while back, fingers silently tapping at the screen, a grimace on his face each time he died. He continued playing, attempting to kill time, before a sign flashed on his phone, showing that he was low on battery.
With a sigh, he put his phone down to conserve battery life. Seeing as it was somewhat stuffy in the car, he rolled the window down a slight crack, letting drips of rain, accompanied by fresh air in.
It was then that he was hit by the smell of cigarettes. The musty stench of smoke invaded his nostrils, and he cringed as a certain memory wormed its way back into his brain.
Yoongi, he thought, before shaking his head furiously to get rid of said thought. No, he told himself, stop, don’t think about Yoongi.
He leaned closer to the window, the tip of his nose touching the cold glass, rain dripping onto his pastel pink hair as he peered out to see who in the world would be smoking during a storm.
His eyes made out a figure a few meters away, thin, arm wrapped around his leather clad body seemingly to keep himself warm, a cigarette resting between his lips, shielded from the storm by a tree he was standing next to, and his hand, covering it as to prevent the wind from snuffing it out. He squinted his eyes, looking more closely, trying to make out the facial features of the person that so closely reminded him of… him.
“Jimin. Get a grip.” he told himself out loud, trying to wipe the thought out of his mind. Please, he silently added. Turning his attention back to the stranger, he watched their movements, looking closely as he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, the same matter being released out after a few seconds.
“Fuck!“ he heard them swear, and their voice was so hauntingly familiar - he had heard the same voice spit out curses and insults like a machine gun, fast and vicious. “Damn this stupid storm, the fuck is this dumbass weather?!” they hissed, obviously furious, before taking a long draw of their slowly disintegrating cigarette, huffing out the smoke along with a string of curses. This time, they noticed the curious gaze of a certain pink haired boy, and their eyes met, a shiver being sent down Jimin’s spine at the eye contact.
He didn’t know what possessed him to do so, but it was clearly something as he opened his car door with a creak, stepping out gingerly, taking small but careful steps towards the other.
Black. Black leather pants, most likely going to be ruined by the rain, the same applying to the black leather jacket he was wearing. He was shivering, and you could almost hear his teeth chatter as he shook in the rain, mint green hair soaked and sticking to his pale white skin, his eyes,
No, not those eyes. A brown so dark that they were almost black, empty, dull and so cold that they could freeze an entire ocean, they belonged to the one and only Min Yoongi.
Dear god, what did I ever do to deserve this? he wondered, as he heard his own name leave Yoongi’s lips. Oh, his lips. Pale and pink and smooth like the rest of him, he was beautiful in every sense of the word.
“You’re smoking again.” he coughed out; it was the only thing he could think of to say.
“I never stopped,” was Yoongi’s reply. “You dyed your hair. Pink suits you.”
He shivered. He wasn’t very cold, he hadn’t been out in the rain for long and he had on a thick jacket, however he felt himself freeze at his past lover’s words.
“Thanks.” he muttered, his words barely audible over the wailing of the storm.
There was silence between them, the tension so thick that you could’ve cut it with a knife, before finally the older of the two spoke up, his burnt out cigarette slipping through his fingers and landing on the ground, before the sole of his shoe pressed down on it out of habit.
“Do you mind if I join you in the car? I would be home right now but the storm fucked me up and my phone’s dead.” he asked, his gaze remaining on the rose haired boy standing a meter or so away from him.
Yes, yes in fact I do mind, Jimin wanted to reply, but instead awkwardness took over his speech and he replied with a quiet: “Sure, I guess.”
The two went over to his car, and they stepped in, Yoongi immediately taking off his leather jacket which was drenched in water, tossing it aside. Jimin forced his eyes away from the toned muscles on Yoongi’s arms, smooth and perfect as Yoongi had held him - but it was all in the past, and he needed to stop thinking about it.
However, it was all too real, when Yoongi glanced at Jimin, mouth slightly open, trying to form the right words to say, his body language reeking of confidence however through his eyes you could see hurt and a desperate need for affection, despite him trying to hide it with his stone cold attitude. Unlike Jimin, Yoongi was a born liar, and Jimin knew that all too well.
Jimin, on the other hand was the opposite. Even after months of no contact, Yoongi could easily read him like a book, and he could still see the hurt and betrayal written on Jimin’s face, and the sight made his heart hurt, guilt being doused over his mind like kerosene and set ablaze, burning in agony.
He ignored the feeling, however. Yoongi was never one for feelings, he despised them with a passion. That had led to him shattering Jimin; frail, sweet little Jimin, innocent, caring, who had loved Yoongi with all his heart, yet had been let down, hurt - shattered and torn apart by the very same person.
The pieces never fell back together.
And Yoongi knew that, he knew that all too well when the minutes of silence that had passed was finally broken by a shaky whimper, proceeded by a single word, why.
“Why?” Jimin had asked, however he received no reply from the green haired male sitting next to him, in the passenger seat.
“Why what?” Yoongi asked back, although the truth was, he knew exactly what Jimin had meant, however he didn’t want to answer it, he couldn’t since he didn’t even know the answer himself.
Jimin didn’t know what to ask either, therefore he stayed mute.
Why did you cheat on me? he wanted to scream. Why did you fuck Taehyung? He was my best friend, you know? You knew that, Yoongi. You knew that. So why did you fuck him? And… And you had the nerve to blame it on me, as well! You accused me of sleeping with Tae even when I saw you two pressed against each other on my bed, and then you told me to fuck off when I told you what I had seen.
You said I was being overly dramatic. You called me miserable, desperate, horrible names that hurt me, and even when I was crying and begging for you to just stop, just s t o p, you continued and then you left. You left, you packed your bags and went out the door, and you never came back. I heard you blocked my number, I heard you started dating Namjoon within a week after our breakup. Yoongi, why him? Why Taehyung, why Namjoon? Why me? Why?
All those thoughts were jumbled and messy, similar to the tears that began flowing down his face, and he sniffed loudly, fingers searching the car for something to wipe away the tears.
He still looks like an angel, Yoongi thought, and he reached out, he took his thumb and wiped away the salty streaks that ran down Jimin’s face. Jimin, who’s eyes were red and puffy and bloodshot, who’s tears were streaming down his face rapidly, like a waterfall, Yoongi’s finger carefully wiping them aside, something he wished he had done in the past. He wasn’t one to regret, but not doing so was so fucking regrettable, he hated himself for not comforting Jimin when he cried, and even more so because he was the reason Jimin cried.
Yoongi was a shitty person, and everyone knew that. Everyone besides Jimin, although perhaps he had known but instead chose to ignore it out of love. The thought of that made Yoongi wince, thinking of the pain he had caused.
“I’m sorry.” Yoongi apologized, his hand cupping Jimin’s cheek. He brought Jimin closer to him, burying the younger’s head in his chest.
Jimin kept crying, his tears soaking through Yoongi’s shirt, his tshirt that smelled of rain, of cigarettes and of him, the smell not having changed even slightly, and it was then that he realized how much he missed Yoongi. Stop, he once more told himself, but it was weaker than the previous times. He was in such close proximity to Yoongi that he just simply couldn’t, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he just couldn’t.
“Baby,” Yoongi spoke, his voice rough, tired, filled with exhaustion, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You know I am, you know that I regret it so badly, Jimin - babe, please.” He ran a hand through Jimin’s soft locks, the other around his back, holding him closely, just like he wished he did.
Removing himself from Yoongi’s embrace, he looked into his eyes, darker than black, full of regret and shame, while his own full of sorrow and want. Their faces and lips were just mere centimetres apart, but Yoongi should’ve still waited. He should’ve waited, waited for Jimin to make the first move if Jimin decided to.
But he was Yoongi, and Yoongi was selfish. He was cold, careless, and ignored whatever common sense he had left, instead connecting their lips.
Jimin had mirrored Yoongi’s lips almost instantly, he kissed back gently, their lips clashing, Jimin’s soft, plump ones moving against Yoongi’s, smooth, and hungry, before the kiss turned rough, Yoongi desperately trying to access Jimin’s mouth as he took Jimin’s bottom lip between his own.
Yoongi was a scarily good kisser, which was the reason Jimin hesitated, because he knew that once he started, he couldn’t stop. Yoongi was a drug, and he was an addict, the craving for Yoongi coming back with full force after so long of an absence.
“Yoongi,” he gasped out in between kisses, their lips touching and moulding against one another, “h-hyung.”
That nickname drove Yoongi off the edge, his grip in Jimin’s hair tightened, a few strands sure to have been pulled loose, his tongue dancing with Jimin’s as he deepened the kiss, other hand pulling at Jimin’s jacket, opening his eyes for a split second to find out how to take it off, which he did soon after, the clothing being tossed to the side. His nimble fingers worked at Jimin’s shirt, navy blue striped and long sleeved. Yoongi ran his hands up and down Jimin’s body, caressing every curve and muscle, stroking his abs, before he lightly traced his index finger around Jimin’s nipple, pinching at it gently - just the way he knew Jimin liked it.
“Ahh - Yoongi, please - please don’t tease me like that.” Jimin begged, and Yoongi loved the sound of it, desperate, needy, Jimin wanting none other than his green haired friend.
Friend, ex lover, lover, whichever one it was, it didn’t seem to matter as Jimin moaned into the kiss, his hips grinding against Yoongi’s erection, who let out a strangled groan at the sudden movement.
Jimin was always the more vocal one, and Yoongi had always loved hearing Jimin scream his name. He was intent on hearing it once more, at least just once, he thought as his fingers unbuttoned and zipped down Jimin’s jeans, his erection obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. Yoongi’s hand lightly stroked him through the cloth, moans and gasps escaping Jimin’s lips, which were now swollen as Yoongi broke off the kiss, instead trailing down towards his neck, pressing his lips slowly down Jimin’s smooth collarbone, a trail of nerves set alight where ever he went. Slowly, he took Jimin’s dewy skin in between his lips, gently sucking and nipping at the flesh, before he went in rougher, marking Jimin as his, marks of crimson and violet blooming on Jimin’s pale skin.
He loved the love bites that he could leave, he loved marking Jimin as his - except for, was Jimin really his anymore? The answer was made clear when Jimin pressed his lips into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, reciprocating with his own, Yoongi letting out small groans as Jimin attacked his neck, however much more gentle than the elder’s movements.
“Yoongi, hyung, I-” Jimin’s voice faltered into a moan as Yoongi’s skilled hands stroked Jimin’s hard, pulsing erection, palming it as Jimin gasped hard, thrusting his all too desirable hips into Yoongi’s palm, the precum leaving a small stain on his boxers.
“Jimin. Jimin, fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.” Yoongi hissed, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Jimin’s boxers, pulling them down, watching as Jimin’s erection was set free, pressing into the firm skin of his stomach.
Yoongi leaned in, pale pink lips kissing down Jimin’s dick, his tongue pressing flat against his length, running along every vein, feeling Jimin’s breath hitch, which urged him to continue, his lips wrapping around the head, a sharp intake of breath being heard from Jimin.
Jimin moaned as Yoongi’s skilled tongue swirled around his tip, before gently running down the length, taking his dick back in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, before he went deeper, taking all of Jimin’s dick until it hit the back of his throat. He had done this so many times before, but the sensation felt new each time, he could feel Jimin’s hands tangle into his mint hair, pulling at it as he continued moving his mouth.
“Yoongi, I c-can’t-” Jimin moaned out in between gasps. Yoongi’s eyes glanced up, looking into Jimin’s, which were beginning to water.
“Jimin, angel-” Yoongi began, however he was cut off by a quiet sob.
“Yoongi, stop, you-” he choked out, taking a moment to cough and sniff a bit. “you can’t just do this. You can’t just hurt me and waltz back into my life like nothing happened.” Jimin stammered, a bit more firmly this time.
“Jiminie, sweetheart, you know I’m sorry-”
“No. No, you’re not. You’re not sorry, you never are.” the younger of the two cried out, his voice trailing off into a broken cry of anguish.
“Baby, I am. I really am, please believe me. You know I never meant what I said, I didn’t mean a single word of it.” his voice began cracking, Yoongi’s tough facade breaking apart, but Jimin knew better. It has been months, and he knew better than to give in to Yoongi’s sweet talk. It’s what he had done best, what made Jimin give in to his every demand, believe him, trust him - love him.
“You cheated on me with Tae. He was my best friend - you knew that. Do you know how I felt? Do you understand how much it hurt, when I walked in on your lips against his, and your bodies tangled together? I pretended I didn’t see that and a week later I asked you, I asked you if you had any feelings for Tae - I mean what else was I supposed to do? Turn a blind eye to it even though that was the reason I was up at night, crying? Crying because you had fucked Tae the previous night on the bed we shared? You didn’t notice though. You didn’t even question the crying, since you never heard it. You weren’t even home, you’d be out late ‘practicing’, or was that screwing Tae as well?”
Jimin’s words turned harsh, and bitter at the end of his rant, all the bottled up feelings that he’s held in for so long bubbling to the surface in the form of a hateful, vicious anger.
Yoongi stayed silent, he had no idea what to say. He simply looked down into his lap, watching his hands nervously fiddle as he sat there in shame.
“I hadn’t talked to Tae since, but that Saturday when I asked you, you glared at me, and I remember these words clearly, you asked me, ‘What the fuck, Jimin? Just because you’re sucking his dick doesn’t mean I am.’ and that hurt. You knew I wasn’t. I would never cheat on you; I wouldn’t then, I wouldn’t now, and I still love you, that’s why it hurts so much. You wouldn’t ever understand though, would you? You couldn’t, you don’t ever truly love anyone - at least not me - and you couldn’t hurt.” Jimin finished, hot tears burning down his face, and this time Yoongi couldn’t wipe them away. He was shocked, motionless as he sat there, not knowing what to say.
He finally spoke up, voice defeated, quieter than usual: “I-I do love you. Jimin, you may not believe me, but I really do. I know what I did was horrible, and I said all those things because I was scared; I was a coward and Jimin, I’m sorry. Babe, please, I’m so sorry.”
“Yoongi, you had your chance, you had so many, and you know that. You could’ve apologized then, maybe even a week later, but don’t even get me started on Namjoon.” Jimin cried out, hurt fully taking over his soft features, and what was once a cheerful, happy boy, was now a betrayed, bitter soul, once warm eyes now filling with never-ending tears.
“Jimin, chimchim, please, I’m sorry, I’ll change, just please…” Yoongi had never felt so desperate before, but he could’ve been on his knees, begging. All pride and defiance in his character was gone, the only thing left was regret, and his love for Park Jimin, which was now tainted and destroyed by himself only.
“Yoongi… leave, please. I still love you, but you hurt me, and I simply can’t trust you anymore, so just leave, please.” and so Yoongi did, not even bothering to grab his leather jacket, he simply opened the car door and walked out into the rain, letting the storm destroy him, the sky crying, its tears mixing with Yoongi’s salty tears that he shed as he walked away from Jimin, just like he did in the past, with his heart aching, an undeniable hatred for himself and his own mistakes pumping through his veins.
I’m sorry, Jimin. I’m so fucking sorry.
And this time he truly did mean it, but there was no one around to hear it anymore.