[FLASH FIC] THE WORLD KNOWS
Apr. 3rd, 2026 03:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vasopressinthe world knows
ship: min yoongi/park jimin
rating: g
word count: 1.1k
Yoongi supposes it’s his fault. He did invite Jimin to dinner at the last minute—as in, right when he was about to leave for work this morning. Jimin looked up at him with the brightest smile and said, “Of course, hyung! I’ll see you then!”
Yoongi let himself believe that Jimin had been looking forward to it just as much as he was.
For the next thirty minutes, Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, except to check the time on his phone. He looks over the food spread out on the table, now getting cold.
An hour passes before Yoongi starts eating, taking a bite from every dish he meticulously prepared. He packs the rest into glass containers in the fridge and throws on a padded jacket. The apartment feels suffocating.
He’s not the only one out tonight. The streets of Seoul are crowded with people—some drunk beyond reason, others glowing with the hope the new year might bring. Yoongi isn’t sure where he belongs in all of it.
He passes by a bar he’s seen many times before, but a head of blond hair catches his eye through the window.
People are dancing all around. Jimin holds a beer glass in one hand, his other arm draped over the shoulders of the man beside him, head thrown back in laughter. Yoongi can hardly believe it.
He loses track of time standing outside in the snow, only realizing how cold he is when Jimin turns around and spots him.
Their eyes meet, and it’s almost comical how Jimin’s face contorts into an expression Yoongi can’t quite read. With what dignity he has left, Yoongi looks away first—but he doesn’t move quickly enough.
“Hyung, wait,” Jimin calls after him. Against his better judgement, Yoongi stops in his tracks, and gets a good look at Jimin for the first time that evening. He has the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons left undone.
Jimin is about to say something, but Yoongi doesn’t think he can stomach an explanation right now. He reaches for a handshake before Jimin can speak. “Happy New Year, Jimin,” Yoongi says, offering a tight-lipped smile.
Jimin looks at him, then down at where their hands are still connected, clearly confused. Several voices call him back inside the bar, and Yoongi catches glimpses of them in his peripheral vision. “I’ll be heading back now,” he mutters, not bothering to check whether Jimin heard him.
Yoongi returns to his apartment with the same sinking feeling in his stomach as before. Seoltang greets him at the doorway, rubbing against his legs.
Yoongi kneels on the floor and gives her a few pats on the bum. “He’s not coming,” Yoongi says, though he isn’t sure Seoltang understands what he means.
Without changing, Yoongi heads straight to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
Yoongi, in his twenties, was naive to think he’d be immune to Jimin’s charm. Yoongi would poke fun at him, and the two bickered over the most trivial things. Yoongi never asked for more of Jimin’s attention, knowing all too well how others were drawn to him like moths to a flame.
Hoseok tells him he’s too pessimistic, but deep down, Yoongi feels it’s only a matter of time before Jimin grows tired of him. He cherishes every moment they spend together, even though Yoongi can’t shake the feeling that Jimin doesn’t really want to be around him.
It was only when Jimin started dating people in college that Yoongi realized the gravity of his feelings—but by then, it was already too late. So Yoongi does what he does best: he writes Jimin a song, one Jimin will never hear, if Yoongi can help it. When Yoongi graduates, he won’t have to worry about him anymore.
Except, it seems the universe is toying with him.
Of course, Yoongi never planned to be neighbours with Jimin. He was just looking for a place to stay, and the apartment next door happened to be available.
Park Jimin is waiting on the other side the moment Yoongi opens the door to his apartment.
“You’re never up this early,” Yoongi says, his voice still rough with sleep.
“It’s lunch time, hyung,” Jimin explains. Belatedly, Yoongi notices the plastic bag he’s holding, filled with what looks like takeout.
“Ah, well …” Yoongi wracks his brain for an excuse, “I did end up falling asleep pretty late last night.”
Jimin hums in response, eyes fixed on the ground. “Can I come in?” he asks.
Since Yoongi moved in next door, Jimin had always made himself at home. This is the first time Yoongi has ever seen him act like this.
For a moment, he considers shutting the door in Jimin’s face. But Yoongi doesn’t. He knows he couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
So Yoongi motions for him to come inside, and Jimin rushes to take a seat at the table instead of playing with Seoltang like he normally would.
Yoongi moves around the kitchen, keeping his hands busy, trying to calm himself down.
They lapse into a comfortable silence. Jimin carefully empties the contents of the plastic bag he brought, before speaking again. Yoongi holds his breath.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Jimin starts. Apparently, his boss had invited him and his co-workers out for drinks, and things had gotten out of hand.
Honestly, it doesn’t even matter anymore. Jimin sounds remorseful, and Yoongi can’t bring himself to look at him.
“I’ve been there before, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yoongi assures.
Yoongi brings over freshly peeled tangerines. Jimin doesn’t look convinced.
“Why are you so nice to me?” Jimin asks as Yoongi takes a seat across from him.
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” Yoongi struggles to understand why he should need a reason—when it’s Jimin.
“You’re making me feel worse, hyung. If you’re upset with me, say it outright,” Jimin says, his eyes brimming with tears. Yoongi doesn’t know what he would do if Jimin starts crying for real.
Struggling to find an answer that might appease him, Yoongi settles on the truth: “I wish you had told me you wouldn’t be coming earlier.” Before he has time to regret it, Yoongi wipes the tears from Jimin’s eyes.
“I can’t guess what you’re thinking unless you tell me, so open up, okay?” He takes the hand Yoongi used to wipe his eyes and holds it in his own.
“I don’t know what you take me for, and maybe I’m doing a shit job of showing it, but I care. So don’t brush off your feelings,” Jimin says.
“I’ll try not to,” Yoongi says, and he means it.
ship: min yoongi/park jimin
rating: g
word count: 1.1k
Yoongi is alone when the clock strikes 12 on the first day of the new year.
Yoongi supposes it’s his fault. He did invite Jimin to dinner at the last minute—as in, right when he was about to leave for work this morning. Jimin looked up at him with the brightest smile and said, “Of course, hyung! I’ll see you then!”
Yoongi let himself believe that Jimin had been looking forward to it just as much as he was.
For the next thirty minutes, Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, except to check the time on his phone. He looks over the food spread out on the table, now getting cold.
An hour passes before Yoongi starts eating, taking a bite from every dish he meticulously prepared. He packs the rest into glass containers in the fridge and throws on a padded jacket. The apartment feels suffocating.
He’s not the only one out tonight. The streets of Seoul are crowded with people—some drunk beyond reason, others glowing with the hope the new year might bring. Yoongi isn’t sure where he belongs in all of it.
He passes by a bar he’s seen many times before, but a head of blond hair catches his eye through the window.
People are dancing all around. Jimin holds a beer glass in one hand, his other arm draped over the shoulders of the man beside him, head thrown back in laughter. Yoongi can hardly believe it.
He loses track of time standing outside in the snow, only realizing how cold he is when Jimin turns around and spots him.
Their eyes meet, and it’s almost comical how Jimin’s face contorts into an expression Yoongi can’t quite read. With what dignity he has left, Yoongi looks away first—but he doesn’t move quickly enough.
“Hyung, wait,” Jimin calls after him. Against his better judgement, Yoongi stops in his tracks, and gets a good look at Jimin for the first time that evening. He has the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons left undone.
Jimin is about to say something, but Yoongi doesn’t think he can stomach an explanation right now. He reaches for a handshake before Jimin can speak. “Happy New Year, Jimin,” Yoongi says, offering a tight-lipped smile.
Jimin looks at him, then down at where their hands are still connected, clearly confused. Several voices call him back inside the bar, and Yoongi catches glimpses of them in his peripheral vision. “I’ll be heading back now,” he mutters, not bothering to check whether Jimin heard him.
Yoongi returns to his apartment with the same sinking feeling in his stomach as before. Seoltang greets him at the doorway, rubbing against his legs.
Yoongi kneels on the floor and gives her a few pats on the bum. “He’s not coming,” Yoongi says, though he isn’t sure Seoltang understands what he means.
Without changing, Yoongi heads straight to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
Yoongi, in his twenties, was naive to think he’d be immune to Jimin’s charm. Yoongi would poke fun at him, and the two bickered over the most trivial things. Yoongi never asked for more of Jimin’s attention, knowing all too well how others were drawn to him like moths to a flame.
Hoseok tells him he’s too pessimistic, but deep down, Yoongi feels it’s only a matter of time before Jimin grows tired of him. He cherishes every moment they spend together, even though Yoongi can’t shake the feeling that Jimin doesn’t really want to be around him.
It was only when Jimin started dating people in college that Yoongi realized the gravity of his feelings—but by then, it was already too late. So Yoongi does what he does best: he writes Jimin a song, one Jimin will never hear, if Yoongi can help it. When Yoongi graduates, he won’t have to worry about him anymore.
Except, it seems the universe is toying with him.
Of course, Yoongi never planned to be neighbours with Jimin. He was just looking for a place to stay, and the apartment next door happened to be available.
Park Jimin is waiting on the other side the moment Yoongi opens the door to his apartment.
“You’re never up this early,” Yoongi says, his voice still rough with sleep.
“It’s lunch time, hyung,” Jimin explains. Belatedly, Yoongi notices the plastic bag he’s holding, filled with what looks like takeout.
“Ah, well …” Yoongi wracks his brain for an excuse, “I did end up falling asleep pretty late last night.”
Jimin hums in response, eyes fixed on the ground. “Can I come in?” he asks.
Since Yoongi moved in next door, Jimin had always made himself at home. This is the first time Yoongi has ever seen him act like this.
For a moment, he considers shutting the door in Jimin’s face. But Yoongi doesn’t. He knows he couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
So Yoongi motions for him to come inside, and Jimin rushes to take a seat at the table instead of playing with Seoltang like he normally would.
Yoongi moves around the kitchen, keeping his hands busy, trying to calm himself down.
They lapse into a comfortable silence. Jimin carefully empties the contents of the plastic bag he brought, before speaking again. Yoongi holds his breath.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Jimin starts. Apparently, his boss had invited him and his co-workers out for drinks, and things had gotten out of hand.
Honestly, it doesn’t even matter anymore. Jimin sounds remorseful, and Yoongi can’t bring himself to look at him.
“I’ve been there before, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yoongi assures.
Yoongi brings over freshly peeled tangerines. Jimin doesn’t look convinced.
“Why are you so nice to me?” Jimin asks as Yoongi takes a seat across from him.
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” Yoongi struggles to understand why he should need a reason—when it’s Jimin.
“You’re making me feel worse, hyung. If you’re upset with me, say it outright,” Jimin says, his eyes brimming with tears. Yoongi doesn’t know what he would do if Jimin starts crying for real.
Struggling to find an answer that might appease him, Yoongi settles on the truth: “I wish you had told me you wouldn’t be coming earlier.” Before he has time to regret it, Yoongi wipes the tears from Jimin’s eyes.
“I can’t guess what you’re thinking unless you tell me, so open up, okay?” He takes the hand Yoongi used to wipe his eyes and holds it in his own.
“I don’t know what you take me for, and maybe I’m doing a shit job of showing it, but I care. So don’t brush off your feelings,” Jimin says.
“I’ll try not to,” Yoongi says, and he means it.
