↳Across the Universe (2007) // Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) // My Fair Lady (1964) // Sing Street (2016) // Moulin Rouge! (2001) // The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) // The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) // West Side Story (1961) // The Wiz (1978) // Singin’ in the Rain (1952)
Laughing seemed to come easy whenever Jimin was around Yoongi; the two of them frequenting their secret spot in the forest every day since their first meeting. They’d stay up talking deep into the night, sometimes not separating until the sun’s rays peeked through the dense leaves.
“What’s your favorite color?” Yoongi asked one evening, sprawled out on a blanket Jimin had brought the day before.
“Hmm…“ Jimin hummed, mulling the question over from his spot next to Yoongi. "I like a lot of colors but right now…I think I like yellow the most.”
Jimin stretched his arms up away from the ground, fingers grasping at the passing clouds in the star speckled sky. “Maybe it has something to do with the little bit of sun we get during the winter. Lately when I see the color yellow it makes me really happy.” His arms fell back to his sides, fingers brushing against Yoongi’s in the process and instinctively curling to hook themselves around his hand.
Yoongi shifted slightly and Jimin immediately retracted, not-so-smoothly shoving both hands into his jacket pockets as Yoongi’s gaze dropped down from the sky and settled onto his face.
“You have a bad habit of doing that, you know,” Jimin mumbled after seconds of silence. He didn’t avert his gaze as he spoke, still focusing on the the trees, pinching at the lining of his jacket. "You’re always staring.”
Yoongi turned onto his side towards Jimin and propped up his head using the palm of his hand. “I like yellow too.”
Jimin peered over at him–lips curved upward and eyes brimming with warmth–before immediately returning his attention upward. “Ye-yeah, well it’s a nice–”
“Your aura,” Yoongi interrupted, “it’s yellow.”
Yoongi sat up and crawled over to Jimin who was still lying on his back. “Your aura,” he began, hovering over Jimin and tracing the outline of his body, “is the energy you give off. Every living thing gives off energy and that energy has a color.”
“Every living thing?”
“Animals and plants?”
Yoongi nodded again.
Jimin pointed at the nearest tree, his eyes narrowed. “That? That tree has a color?”
This time, Yoongi sighed. “Yeah.”
“And me?” Jimin poked his chest. “I have a color too?”
“You have colors.”
“Like a flame. It’s really pretty…” Yoongi reached out to caress the imaginary light and even though he was nowhere near close to touching him, Jimin held his breath in anticipation.
“Does…everyone have more than one?”
Yoongi shook his head. “It’s rare.”
“Is it a…a bad thing?”
“Having more than one? No.”
“Ah…” Jimin nodded, taking it all in. “Are my colors…good colors?”
“Nothing fits neatly into those categories of ‘good’ and 'bad’. It’s all subjective, isn’t it?”
Jimin punched Yoongi lightly in the arm. “Just answer the–”
“Yellow…” Yoongi leaned in close, catching Jimin off guard. “…happiness.” His hand brushed against the top of Jimin’s head and followed the curves of his body. “Pink…tenderness, gentleness, and love.”
“So basically…I’m perfect.” Jimin smirked, his breathing unsteady and shallow.
"Don’t flatter yourself, brat.” Yoongi tucked a lock of Jimin’s hair behind his ear. “I think we both know you’re far from perfect.”
Of course Jimin knew he wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t always eye-smiles and sunshine, giggles and toothy grins. Most times he was self-critical; holding himself to standards that weren’t realistic, measuring his self-worth in the approval of others. He was constantly performing, whether he was on stage or not, showcasing traits he believed would garner attention and praise.
And somehow this stranger–this Min Yoongi–had the ability to see through his well constructed facade after only knowing him for a few days. With the simplest of words, he managed to stir something inside of Jimin that both terrified and excited him.
Somewhere in between reconciling those two emotions, Jimin blurted out, “I think I like you.”
Yoongi’s fingers paused in the air, head tilted as he withdrew his hand. “You think you like me?”
“I can’t…can’t explain it and it's–I’m usually not like–”
Yoongi pressed a finger against Jimin’s mouth. “Stop overthinking. You’ll ruin it.”
“Ru–ruin? Ruin what?”
“The moment,” he whispered, bending forward and resting his forehead against Jimin’s.
“Ah…” Jimin clung to the blanket beneath them, eyes screwing shut and lips pursed.
He waited for what seemed like hours, growing impatient after nothing but warm puffs of air from their breathing. Jimin opened one eye hesitantly, then the other, before realizing that Yoongi was no longer leaning against him, his face even further away than it was before.
“Aren’t you…aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Yoongi tapped Jimin’s bottom lip. “Kiss?”
“Yeah, well…you said–I mean, I thought–” Jimin could feel pinpricks of embarrassment nipping at his cheeks and ears.
“But you’re a prince. Shouldn’t I court you properly first?”
Jimin gaped at him, blinking profusely before they both broke into a fit of giggles, doubling over and falling on top of each other in the process.
“Come on, little prince.” Yoongi grinned, helping a flustered Jimin stand and straighten his clothes after they’d managed to detangle themselves. “Let me buy you some dinner.”