Work Text:
Jimin glanced up at the clock, continuing to worry at his lip as he saw the hands softly ticking closer to 3 AM. Yoongi had promised. He had promised .
They had agreed that the rapper would be at their shared apartment by 11:00 PM at the latest during comeback schedules, although Jimin allowed his boyfriend to stay longer when there was an upcoming due date that the exhausted idol had to meet.
The singer knew that Yoongi was known to be one of the most talented producers in South Korea, if not the whole world. But that didn’t stop Jimin from clenching his fists at his sides whenever he saw management add yet another track that was due within the week on the digital calendar.
His phone buzzed, the soft vibration startling him out of his thoughts as he snatched it up, hoping for a message from the rapper. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut as he saw the ID.
Namjoon-hyung: hey, are you still awake?
Namjoon-hyung: if you are, you should rest
Namjoon-hyung: Yoongi told me earlier that if he didn't come home by 3 to tell you that he was working on a few tracks
Namjoon-hyung: sorry Jiminie
Jimin sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he flopped further back against the couch.
Jimin (You): Okay, do you know when he’s coming home????
Namjoon-hyung: he didn’t say
Namjoon-hyung: do you want me to go to his studio
Jimin (You): No, I’ll go get him if he’s not back by 3:00
Namjoon-hyung: be sure to rest, schedules begin at 7
Jimin (You): You too, good night
Namjoon-hyung: technically it’s morning but okay
Jimin let out a drawn-out groan, glancing at the digital clock on his phone before doing a double-take, checking the wall clock to verify the time.
It was already 3:01 and the singer was finally at his wits’ end, pushing himself off the couch before stumbling slightly, black spots dancing in his vision. Jimin’s breath hitched slightly, trying to recall the last time he had eaten—he had skipped dinner, lunch, and breakfast .
He should want to eat, right? But the nagging thought still stayed in his mind, recalling pictures of himself in 2017, twisted pride at remembering how his ribs were prominent, jawline painstakingly chiseled to perfection by his own hand. But even worse was the regret he felt looking at himself in the mirror now, ribs barely noticeable, muscles lean and built.
“Jimin, do you want to watch this movie with me?” Yoongi called out softly, already curled up on the loveseat with what Jimin knew were his favorite snacks.
“I…” Jimin swallowed harshly, brushing his fingers against his own sunken cheeks.
He didn’t want to be like this anymore.
He wanted to get better.
Yoongi smiled softly, eyes crinkling slightly as he patted the empty cushion next to him.
So Jimin took a deep breath, gathering up more courage than he ever had—even more courage than when he asked the rapper out—and quickly walked to Yoongi before he could second-guess himself, practically throwing his body onto Yoongi.
They sat together and watched Forrest Gump for the fiftieth time, the older wrapping his own blanket around Jimin as he curled against him.
The hours passed and before he knew it, he had eaten three bags of chips and downed two mugs of hot chocolate. Jimin’s face visibly paled as he realized what he had done, and immediately tried to get up, preparing to dash to the bathroom.
But he looked down at the limp figure who had wrapped themselves around his arm, and slumped back in defeat as he saw the faded yellow sleeve that hid thin, calloused fingers from years of work.
“I know you worry about me,” Jimin whispered to the sleeping idol, brushing his hair out of his feline eyes. “But I worry about you too, you know? You work too much…”
Jimin took a deep breath, feeling the food settle in his stomach as he continued. “And you’ve been sick for weeks. You say I’m losing weight, but I saw your mental exam. The psychologist said that your depression went from mild to severe, and you keep straightening things, and doing the same actions over and over.”
“Then two weeks ago, the company had a group weigh-in. I didn’t mean to look, but I noticed your weight. You’re barely 45 kilograms, and I–” Jimin paused for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “I’m so worried for you…I know mine isn’t much better, but I know you have a denser bone structure than me so you should be at least the same, if not a bit more.”
“I want to–I will get better, for the both of us. And I’ll make sure we’ll be alright.”
He didn’t want to be how he was before.
He didn’t want to be like that again.
Jimin dashed to the cupboards, rummaging through the boxes until he found several granola bars, pocketing them before leaving the complex.
They had chosen this apartment for several reasons; the view was beautiful, it provided them privacy, and most of all it was a five minute walk from the company building.
Jimin was going to make that in 2.
He bursted through the entrance of the company headquarters in record time, not bothering to go to the other side of the building to take the elevator but instead pushing open the emergency stairs and sprinting up the floors two steps at a time.
Yoongi’s studio was the seventh one in the hall on the third floor, and Jimin had long since cracked the code to open the door. Sentimental boyfriend, of course it was the date that they all debuted.
He quickly pressed the buttons, hearing the familiar buzz and click as the lock unlatched. Jimin quietly opened the door, stepping on the cat-flipping-you-off mat as he entered.
It was a monochrome-designed studio, simple yet cozy with a rolling chair and sofa. Yoongi was on neither of them, instead crumpled into a ball on the floor with his eyes open, staring at nothing.
“Yoongi…” Jimin whispered, sitting next to the older man as he used his sleeve to wipe away the tears tracking down the unnaturally pale skin. He should have known that the rapper was working on his album again, forcing himself to recall old memories for the sake of his music.
Yoongi didn’t react, the slow blink of his eyes were the only sign that he heard the younger. Jimin simply waited, holding Yoongi’s large hands in his own small ones while being careful to avoid his fingertips that were red and irritated from biting his nails.
Minutes passed, and his exhausted boyfriend eventually slumped against him, gasping for air as he desperately wrapped his arms around Jimin, bones protruding more than they had just a week ago.
“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Jimin crooned, letting his hyung fall apart in his arms before trying to piece him back together. “We’re alright, you’re alright. You won, you fought it, you did so well.”
Yoongi sniffled quietly, ears turning red from embarrassment even as his eyes slipped closed, head lolling back against the wall.
Jimin quietly pulled the couch’s bottom out, grateful that Yoongi bent the rules to have a ‘bed’ in his studio as he lifted his small boyfriend onto the mattress. Blankets, pillow, sheets, check. He crawled into the pullout couch after checking that the door was locked and Yoongi’s tracks were saved, hugging his Yoongi close.
Looking down at the rapper he realized that the medicine cabinet had been empty for a long time, prescription bottles empty without refills. Of course Yoongi had forgotten to take his medication, it would explain why his mood had been going down for the past month.
Jimin squeezed the older harder as he felt him shiver, likely due to the fever he had had last week. But sharp bones pressed against his chest and stubby fingers couldn’t help but trace over his ribs, then his small waist, then his prominent hip bones, and finally each vertebrae of his spine.
Yoongi was too skinny.
Jimin was too skinny.
They were too skinny.
Why did they want to be skinnier, when they knew it would kill them?
Yoongi told me to make an effort, Jimin thought bitterly. But now he’s the one who tries to hide what he eats.
“Why can’t we be how we were?”
A shrill noise pierced through the quiet room, startling Jimin who slapped a hand against his phone to muffle the noise of his alarm. They had an hour and a half until they had to be at the dance studio, which would hopefully be enough for the two of them to walk home, take showers, get dressed, and put on some makeup to hide the bags that he knew were under his eyes.
“Jimin,” Yoongi whispered, eyes already open as he scrolled through his phone. “We should get going.”
The singer nodded, begrudgingly resisting the call to dive back under the covers. “Do you want to call a driver to get us home, or…?”
Yoongi shook his head, already slipping off the pullout and tying his shoes. “There’s no point, it would take longer for them to get here than it would be for us to walk back.”
“But…” Jimin trailed off. He didn’t want to state it outright, but he doubted Yoongi’s current mental capacity to walk next to a busy street. He didn’t want to be the one who had to see his hyung run out into traffic with the hopes of being crushed.
“It’ll be fine, Jiminie.” Yoongi paused to look up at the younger, making eye contact for a moment before staring at a vague spot on his shoulder. “It won’t be like that.”
“Do you promise me?” Jimin demanded angrily, eyes sharpening as he stared Yoongi down. “Can you promise that you won’t try to die the moment you have an opportunity?”
Yoongi stayed silent.
Jimin exhaled in shock, scoffing slightly. “Really? Even I can’t stop you?”
“I wish you could, Jimin. But I can’t even stop myself.” Yoongi blinked slowly, the action seeming to take enormous effort. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I know, of course I do!” Jimin snapped, going around the couch to face his boyfriend. “But I can’t stand being unable to help. Why don’t you let me help?”
Yoongi sighed, resting his head in the crook of Jimin’s neck. They remained silent for several minutes, long enough that their phones lit up with messages from the other members.
“...You know,” Yoongi whispered, the words muffled as the rapper leaned against the shorter idol.
“I know,” Jimin responded, taking a deep breath as he raised a hand to trace circles on Yoongi’s back. “I just want us to get better.”
“We will. I know we’ll get better.”