♡ Part - 31 ♡

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the hotel. The golden glow from the entrance lights illuminated the sleek black paint, casting elongated shadows on the pavement.

Jimin reached for the door handle, eager to get out and put some distance between himself and Yoongi. However, in his haste, he nearly miscalculated his step, his head almost colliding with the car frame.

Before he could react, a firm yet gentle hand pressed against the back of his head, guiding him safely out.

Jimin’s breath hitched as he turned abruptly, eyes wide in surprise. Yoongi.

The mafia leader didn’t say anything, his hand already withdrawing as if the gesture had been instinctive rather than intentional. His expression remained unreadable, his gaze flickering elsewhere.

Jimin’s heart stuttered for a second before he scowled, quickly stepping away as if the brief contact had burned him. His mind swirled with unspoken thoughts, a tangle of frustration and confusion.

As the group exited the car, Taehyung stretched his arms above his head, exhaling dramatically. “Finally! That flight was exhausting.”

Jungkook chuckled, slipping his hand into Taehyung’s. “You slept the whole time, baby.”

Taehyung grinned, leaning against him. “Exactly. And I still feel tired.”

Jimin, still shaken by Yoongi’s brief touch, barely registered their playful banter. His steps felt oddly unsteady, as if the ground beneath him wasn’t entirely solid.

Yoongi, on the other hand, moved forward with his usual quiet confidence. “Let’s check in,” he instructed, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

The reception area was grand, the chandelier above casting a soft, golden glow. The air smelled faintly of fresh flowers and polished wood. A woman behind the desk was focused on her computer, her manicured fingers typing away.

Jungkook, ever the polite one, stepped forward. “Excuse me, miss.”

The receptionist looked up at the sound of his voice, her professional demeanor quickly adjusting to a warm smile. “Yes, sir. How may I assist you?”

Yoongi stepped beside Jungkook, his voice calm but commanding. “There were two rooms booked under Min Yoongi and Min Jungkook.”

The receptionist nodded, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. Within seconds, she retrieved two keycards and held them out with a graceful motion. “Room 204 is for Mr. Yoongi, and 205 is assigned to Mr. Jungkook.”

Jimin’s stomach dropped.

That meant… he was sharing with Yoongi.

His lips parted slightly, but before he could protest, Yoongi had already grabbed the keycard without a second thought.

Jimin clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, shooting a glare at Yoongi.

Yoongi didn’t even glance at him. “Let’s go.”

As they moved toward the elevator, Jimin could feel his pulse quickening. The thought of being trapped in a room with Yoongi—alone—sent a wave of irritation through him.

The elevator ride was silent, except for the occasional soft chime as it ascended. Jimin refused to look at Yoongi, instead watching Taehyung and Jungkook steal glances at each other, their happiness so obvious it made something in Jimin’s chest ache.

After a few minutes, the doors slid open, revealing a long, carpeted hallway. The golden numbers on each door glowed softly under the dim lighting.

Yoongi walked ahead, stopping in front of Room 204. He slid the keycard in and pushed the door open, stepping inside without another word.

Jimin stood at the threshold, fingers twitching as he hesitated. He really didn’t want to do this.

The soft click of doors closing behind Taehyung and Jungkook signaled their retreat into their respective rooms, leaving Jimin standing in the dimly lit hallway, his uneasy mounting.

His fingers twitched slightly as he followed Yoongi into their room, the quiet hum of the air conditioning the only sound greeting them. The door swung shut behind them, and the distinct click of the lock resonated in the air—final, unyielding.

Before Jimin could react, Yoongi’s hand shot out, his fingers threading between Jimin’s in a grip so tight it sent a jolt through his body.

“What the—” Jimin barely got the words out before he was pushed against the black wooden door, his back hitting it with a quiet thud.

Yoongi’s gaze burned into his, unreadable yet filled with something fierce, something dangerously close to desperation. Jimin’s breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

"Y-Yoongi—"

And then, suddenly, Yoongi’s lips crashed onto his.

Jimin’s mind short-circuited.

The kiss was a storm, a volatile blend of frustration, anger, and something rawer beneath the surface. It wasn’t soft—it was desperate, teeth scraping against his bottom lip, Yoongi’s hand cupping the side of Jimin’s jaw as if trying to convey something he couldn't put into words.

A sharp sting shot through Jimin’s lip as Yoongi bit down, a hint of coppery blood mixing between them. Jimin gasped at the pain, but the sound was swallowed as Yoongi only deepened the kiss, his grip on Jimin’s hand tightening.

It was overwhelming.

Jimin’s fingers curled into fists, pushing against Yoongi’s chest, but the older man didn’t budge. His heat, his scent, the weight of the moment—it drowned Jimin.

By the time Yoongi pulled back, both of them were breathless, their foreheads nearly touching. Jimin’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his lips tingling with a mixture of lingering heat and bruising pressure.

For a split second, neither of them spoke.

Then, Yoongi’s voice sliced through the tension like a razor.

"What's the matter now?"

Jimin’s breath caught, his mind still reeling. The anger in Yoongi’s voice sent a fresh wave of frustration through him.

“What the hell was that?!” Jimin shot back, shoving at Yoongi’s chest again, this time managing to put some distance between them. His face was flushed, lips still swollen from the force of the kiss. “You can’t just—do that!”

"Why not?" Yoongi’s tone was sharp, mocking almost. His eyes held something dark, challenging.

"Because—" Jimin faltered, his pulse erratic. “Because you—” He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “You’re always like this. Always touching me, always acting like you—like you own me.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Yoongi’s lips. “Me?” He scoffed, stepping closer, forcing Jimin to tilt his chin up. “I’m not the one who always tries to touch you.”

Jimin stiffened.

"What—?"

“You accused me, didn’t you?” Yoongi’s tone dropped lower, sharper. “You said I was always trying to touch you. Well, now I am.” His gaze flickered to Jimin’s lips—bruised and red. “Are you shocked?”

Jimin’s fingers curled at his sides, his nails biting into his palms.

"That’s not—"

“You pushed me to this point.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Yoongi’s voice shook slightly, anger laced with something deeper, something undeniably raw.

“I’ve been trying to be kind to you, Jimin.” His grip on Jimin’s wrist tightened, making the younger man flinch. “I’ve been patient. I’ve let things go. But you—you don’t appreciate it, do you?”

Jimin’s breath stilled.

“I never asked for your patience,” he managed, his voice quieter now. “I never asked for any of this.”

Something flickered in Yoongi’s gaze, a brief moment of hurt—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a hard mask of indifference.

"Right." Yoongi released his grip on Jimin’s wrist with a forceful yank, the sudden absence of his touch almost jarring.

Jimin staggered slightly, his breath shaky.

Yoongi turned on his heel, his movements tense, sharp, a storm barely contained beneath his skin. Without another word, he strode toward the bathroom, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room.

The door slammed shut.

Jimin flinched at the sound.

The silence that followed was deafening, wrapping around him like an invisible vice.

His heart was still racing.

His lips still tingled.

His mind—was a mess.

He pressed his back against the door, sliding down slightly, his fingers brushing over his lips absentmindedly. The phantom of Yoongi’s touch still lingered, the taste of copper and something undeniably Yoongi imprinted on his tongue.

His emotions swirled chaotically—anger, frustration, confusion, and… something else.

Something he didn’t want to name.

The room felt too small, the air too thick, the silence too loud.

Jimin closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

He was in so much trouble.

Jimin stood frozen, his fingers unconsciously brushing over his lips, the ghost of Yoongi’s rough kiss still burning against his skin. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his mind replaying the scene over and over, each second stretching endlessly.

He shouldn't have reacted like that.

The guilt clawed at him, sinking its sharp teeth into his thoughts. He had been unfair, pushing Yoongi away at every turn, accusing him of the thinh he wasn’t even sure were true anymore.

Yoongi’s words echoed in his mind—"You pushed me to this point."

Jimin swallowed thickly.

His lips tingled, a lingering reminder of how intense, desperate, and raw the kiss had been. It wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper. Something Jimin didn’t want to put a name to.

The turmoil twisted inside him, and before he knew it, he found himself lost in thought, staring at nothing as his emotions waged war within him.

Then, suddenly—

A hand waved in front of his face.

Jimin flinched, his wide eyes snapping up, only to be met with Yoongi’s gaze—dark, unreadable, but laced with something Jimin couldn’t quite decipher.

“Are you planning to spend the entire one-week honeymoon trip standing here?”

The words were laced with amusement, but underneath the teasing tone, Jimin sensed something else. A hint of concern, maybe?

Jimin blinked. "Honeymoon trip?" He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi smirked, tilting his head slightly. "What if I am?" His voice carried a lazy confidence, as if daring Jimin to challenge him further.

Jimin exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. “What if I want to stay here?”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. "Okay," he said easily, stepping back with a casual shrug. "Then stay still."

For a brief moment, Jimin thought Yoongi was backing off.

But then—

"Just move aside so I can enjoy the trip with Jungkook and Taehyung."

Jimin stiffened.

The words were casual, yet they struck him like a well-placed blow. The intentional provocation was clear—Yoongi knew exactly how to get under his skin.

Jimin’s jaw clenched.

Something hot and irritated flared inside him, making his pulse spike.

His glare was sharp as he turned on his heel without a word, heading straight for the bathroom. The door swung shut behind him with a soft thud, sealing him inside the confined space.

His hands gripped the sink, knuckles turning white.

His own reflection stared back at him, his face flushed from a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Why did Yoongi always have to get the last word?

Why did his words sting so much?

And why—why did that stupid kiss still linger in his mind?

Jimin exhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart refused to slow, his thoughts refusing to settle.

This week was going to be hell.

Yoongi let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers running through his dark locks as he leaned against the doorframe. His gaze lingered on the closed bathroom door, where Jimin had stormed off moments ago, frustration evident in every step. But instead of being irritated, Yoongi found himself... amused.

“Cute.” The word slipped past his lips before he could stop it, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jimin was so transparent, even when he thought he wasn’t. The way his emotions flickered across his face—the defiance in his eyes, the slight pout in his lips when he was annoyed, the way his fingers curled when he was holding back words—it was all painfully obvious to Yoongi.

And yet, Jimin was completely unaware of just how much he gave himself away.

Yoongi shook his head, a quiet fondness settling in his chest. He pushed off the doorframe and made his way toward the large window, his hands slipping into his pockets as he gazed out at the twinkling city lights of Switzerland.

The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but underneath it, something deeper lingered.

Understanding.

Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t ready to admit anything yet. Knew that Jimin’s emotions were a tangled mess of fear, frustration, and something he was still trying to figure out.

But that was fine.

Yoongi could wait.

Because, whether Jimin admitted it or not—they were already caught in this intricate dance.

A dance of push and pull, of misunderstandings and silent realizations, of unspoken words and undeniable attraction.

Yoongi exhaled softly, his gaze flickering toward the bathroom door once more.

"Take your time, Jimin."

His voice was barely above a whisper, a promise only the night could hear.

Jimin let out a contented sigh as warm water cascaded down his body, enveloping him in a soothing embrace. For the first time that day, he felt truly at peace.

The steady rhythm of droplets hitting his skin was almost hypnotic, each drop washing away the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. His muscles relaxed, tension melting under the comforting heat.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly as the water trickled down his face. This was a rare moment of tranquillity, a fleeting escape from the whirlwind of emotions and the ever-complicated presence of Min Yoongi.

But, as all peaceful moments do, this one came to an abrupt end.

Jimin reached for the shower knob, shutting off the water with a soft creak. The silence that followed was deafening, save for the faint dripping of water from his hair. He ran a hand through the damp strands, pushing them back as he exhaled deeply.

His fingers brushed over the fogged-up mirror, clearing a small section. His own reflection stared back at him—cheeks still flushed from the heat, droplets clinging to his skin.

And that’s when it hit him.

His breath hitched.

His clothes.

Jimin’s eyes widened in horror as his mind raced back to the moment he had entered the bathroom. He had been so distracted—so caught up in escaping Yoongi’s presence—that he had completely forgotten to bring a change of clothes.

He froze, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, mind spiraling into pure panic.

"Ah, what should I do now? Why does this always happen to me?" he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration and embarrassment.

He was no stranger to occasional forgetfulness, but why did it have to happen now? In a shared hotel room? With his mafia?

Jimin chewed his lower lip, torn between two equally humiliating options—braving the cold air and grabbing his clothes from his suitcase or swallowing his pride and asking Yoongi for help.

The second option? Absolutely not.

But the first option? Equally terrifying.

Jimin groaned, ruffling his damp hair in frustration. Maybe Yoongi had left the room?

The thought sparked a glimmer of hope, and Jimin pressed his ear against the bathroom door, straining to catch any sign of movement.

Silence.

His heart pounded against his ribcage.

Has Yoongi gone out? Was the room empty?

Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh, staring at the ceiling as he lay sprawled on the bed. His patience had long since worn thin.

Thirty minutes.

It had been thirty whole minutes since Jimin had entered the bathroom.

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the mattress, his irritation evident.

"Is he bathing or sleeping in there?" he muttered under his breath.

Another minute passed. Then two.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair before glancing toward the closed bathroom door. The sound of running water had stopped long ago, yet Jimin still hadn’t come out.

His eyes narrowed. Was something wrong?

Just as he was about to call out, the door creaked open.

Yoongi’s gaze immediately snapped to the doorway, expecting Jimin to step out fully dressed.

But what he saw instead had him freezing mid-motion.

Jimin peeked out cautiously from behind the door, wrapped in nothing but a flimsy towel.

Yoongi blinked. Once. Twice.

Jimin wasn’t moving.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, droplets of water trailing down the curve of his neck, past his collarbones, and further down to where the towel hung dangerously low on his hips.

Yoongi felt his throat go dry.

Jimin, on the other hand, was in a full-blown panic.

His fingers clutched the towel tightly as if his life depended on it, his entire body tense as he locked eyes with Yoongi. His wide, panicked expression screamed one thing:

Humiliation.

His lips parted, but no words came out. His breath hitched as he realized just how exposed he was.

Yoongi, however, remained annoyingly calm.

His head tilted slightly, arms crossed as he openly stared.

Jimin felt the heat explode across his face.

Oh no. Oh no. OH NO.

Jimin’s heart pounded violently in his chest, the sound loud enough to drown out every logical thought in his head.

This was not happening.

The sheer horror of his predicament settled deep in his bones, sending a violent shudder through his body.

His wide, panic-filled eyes met Yoongi’s too-calm gaze, and the realization of his situation slammed into him with full force.

His entire body was exposed.

Yoongi had seen—

A strangled squeak ripped from his throat as Jimin spun on his heel, desperate to escape back into the bathroom and forget that this ever happened.

But in his frantic state, he completely misjudged the distance.

Instead of a smooth retreat, he slammed headfirst into the door.

A dull thud echoed through the room, and before he could regain his balance, his foot slipped against the floor.

Everything happened too fast.

His body tilted backward, and in the next second—

He was falling.

Jimin barely had time to process the sensation before his back hit the floor with a soft thud.

A hiss of pain left his lips, but that wasn’t the worst part.

No.

The worst part was the cool air that suddenly hit his skin as his towel came completely undone.

Silence.

Complete. Terrifying. Silence.

Jimin’s entire world crumbled around him as pure mortification took over.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for the ground to swallow him whole.

No. No. No. This is a nightmare. This is not real.

Yet, the cold air against his bare skin was very much real.

He was lying completely naked in front of Min Yoongi.

A sharp breath hitched in his throat, his entire body stiff with humiliation.

Just as panic threatened to consume him entirely, a pair of strong, warm hands suddenly wrapped around his bare waist.

His eyes snapped open, meeting Yoongi’s intense gaze above him.

Before Jimin could react, protest, or even comprehend what was happening, he was suddenly lifted off the ground.

Yoongi’s arms were firm yet careful, effortlessly hoisting Jimin into his hold as if he weighed nothing.

Jimin forgot how to breathe.

A small, shocked gasp escaped him, his hands instinctively clutching Yoongi’s shoulders.

His bare skin pressed against Yoongi’s clothed chest, the contrast of warmth making his face burn even hotter.

"Relax," Yoongi’s deep voice vibrated against him, calm and unbothered.

Relax?

RELAX?!

Jimin wanted to scream.

“I—” His voice cracked pathetically. “Put me down!"

Yoongi arched a brow, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"You sure about that?"

Jimin hesitated, his brain short-circuiting.

If Yoongi puts him down now…

His bare ass would be on full display.

A strangled sound got caught in Jimin’s throat as he buried his burning face into Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi chuckled. "Thought so."

Jimin swore he felt Yoongi’s grip tighten slightly, holding him closer as he walked toward the bed.

Jimin didn’t dare to move a muscle.

His entire body was still reeling from the shock, his skin tingling from Yoongi’s touch.

When Yoongi finally set him down gently on the mattress, Jimin instinctively curled in on himself, tugging at the sheets to cover his exposed body.

Jimin lay still on the bed, the warmth of Yoongi’s touch still lingering on his skin. His breath came in shallow, uneven waves as he clutched the blanket tightly around himself, as if it could somehow shield him from the reality of what had just happened.

His wide eyes met Yoongi’s, and for a fleeting second, something unspoken passed between them. An understanding. A quiet acknowledgment of Jimin’s embarrassment and Yoongi’s unexpected gentleness.

"Why…" Yoongi finally spoke, his voice calm, almost amused, "why were you standing there like that?"

Jimin flinched, his entire body jerking at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. "I—I forgot my clothes."

Yoongi raised a brow. "And?"

Jimin scowled, his embarrassment morphing into frustration. "And I thought you had left!"

Yoongi hummed, completely unbothered. “So, if I wasn’t here, you would’ve walked out naked?”

Jimin sputtered, his face burning. “N-No! I—I would’ve—” He stopped, realizing there was no way to salvage his dignity at this point.

Yoongi chuckled, clearly entertained.

That only made Jimin’s humiliation worse.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Yoongi’s voice was softer than before, the amusement from earlier replaced by something else—something genuine.

For all his earlier teasing and smirks, Yoongi’s gaze now held only concern.

Jimin swallowed hard, his throat dry.

The warmth in Yoongi’s voice, the subtle furrow in his brows as he scanned Jimin’s form for any signs of injury—it was too much.

Too much care. Too much sincerity. Too much Yoongi.

Jimin didn’t know how to handle it.

Heat crept up his neck as he curled further into himself, tugging the blanket higher until only his eyes peeked out from beneath the covers.

“I… I’m fine,” he mumbled, a voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi didn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, shifting to sit at the edge of the bed. His fingers brushed against Jimin’s wrist, warm and grounding. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

The gentle weight of Yoongi’s hand made Jimin’s breath hitch.

His already flushed cheeks darkened, and in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming attention, he quickly turned his face away.

“I said I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just… just please go outside.”

The request came out softer than intended, laced with shyness and embarrassment.

Yoongi blinked.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t tease him this time.

Instead, he simply sighed, pushing himself off the bed.

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll give you your precious privacy.”

Jimin dared to peek out from the blanket, his gaze flickering to Yoongi, who was already making his way toward the door.

Just as Yoongi reached for the handle, he paused.

Glancing over his shoulder, he met Jimin’s flustered stare with a lazy smirk.

“Next time, just call me if you need help dressing too,” he said smoothly.

Jimin nearly choked.

“YOONGI!”

A deep chuckle followed Yoongi as he stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Left alone, Jimin buried his face into the pillow, groaning loudly.

He was never going to recover from this.