Being with Min Yoongi was not perfect.

There wasn't a moment whenever Jimin looked at him and just knew that he was the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There wasn't a specific thing that he favored about the other boy that made him swoon especially. It was the little things, and it was a lot of things.

It was the way his hair fell in his face even when he tried his best to not let it (spending three hours in the bathroom every morning to get ready)

It was the way that Jimin's arms fit perfectly around him; their bodies were molded to be wrapped along each others' limbs, always ready to pick the other up at any time needed.

It was the way that Yoongi's mouth stayed in a constant pout, the shade of roses.

The way his hair color changed more than the seasons. One day, it was a rosy pale pink. The next, bright crimson. Orange, blue, green, brown, silver, you name it. It'd been his loosely planted locks messy and perfect and undefinable.

It was the way Yoongi always pushed himself. No matter what, his passion was unmatched. The way that he conquered any obstacle. The way he so willingly faced uncertainty with a straight face and clean combat boots; straight into the battle. That was Yoongi. That was the Yoongi he knew that rested inside of his heart. That grew, and grew with each day with a burning flame, so unwavering.

They'd been dating for exactly three months. That doesn't seem like long, but it's what made all of these little things so fresh in his mind, he could remember them and dwell fondly on them like they'd just happened hours ago. He wanted to observe everything, so whenever he was around him, that's what he tried his best to do.

They'd met through a friend; Jung Hoseok. Jimin had known him since he was a child, they were neighbors and their families made each other dinners and even invited one another over from time to time. Jimin and Hobi connected instantly, no one could possibly separate them. They shared their toys, their snacks, their deepest secrets, and even their fantasies as they grew older.

Hoseok had started writing for the newspaper locally. He met a number of people and one of those people, was Min Yoongi who wanted to put an ad in the paper for selling his Dad's house; the house he'd inheritied just two months ago whenever his Father died tragically in a car crash. Yoongi, who wasn't close with his Father, still managed to say a few words about him to Hobi who inquired sympathetically. He invited him out to dinner, also invited Jimin who he knew would just love Yoongi and he wasn't wrong. They had him to thank for literally every ounce of their love for one another. It was kind of sickening, wasn't it? The way that fresh love smelled like freshly mowed grass and dandelions. The way it felt like silk sheets and velvet promises. The way it looked like winter sunrises that happen to quickly and rain puddles in a quiet stowed away alley.

Jimin didn't care. He wanted every ounce of it, he would literally soak all of it up until there was none left. He wanted the ugly, the good, even the messy. He knew that those things happen, as they had already happened multiple times. Jimin pressed Yoongi to reconcile with his Mother, a cocaine addict who had more than her fair share of "husbands" just since her last had died but Jimin didn't know it was as complicated as it was or that Yoongi was so set on it. Jimin still however, wanted to meet her.

There was an issue, also, with Jimin's ex who happened to be a little bit crazy. Yoongi didn't believe him about just how crazy until one night he was nearly killing him in a parking lot of a theater after they'd been followed there.

Right now, they were in Yoongi's house. It was messy. With black furniature and white walls. With a massive television but lacked any plants whatsoever. With clothing strewn over a recliner, that was a mossy green and matched nothing. With ashtrays in every corner but no home-phone. With a gay porn magazine stuffed into one of the cushions but no portraits on the tables. It was so Yoongi. Messy and disoriented but soft and monochrome. Jimin wondered if he would ever tire of these antics. If the cute things that he managed to do, would eventually grow to be annoyances. If the fact that he always insisted on Ed Sheeran in the car, Hozier in the bedroom would become less interesting. If his desire to see horror movies would turn into something that seemed uselessly teenager-esque. The fact that he had to mute his phone before bed would be just limitless missed calls and texts on a night whenever Jimin really needed him even though he knew he had Jimin's notifs on. Would he ever turn them off? Just as he did with everyone else that was his friend? Jimin felt insecurity sink in his stomach and he sighed it away.

They'd been lying on the couch watching a new trilogy. Horror. Jimin only got scared a few times, and Yoongi gave him soft kitten pecks to his plush, rosy lips to comfort him. It always worked.

"I'm too tired to mooove," He whines out.

Yoongi shakes his head, "I'm not carrying you."

"You're too tired to move, too. Aren't you?"

"I don't mind sleeping here."

Yoongi was behind him, pressed into his body with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. They'd stayed like this for the whole film. "I know I'm going to be sore if I stand now.

"

"Yeah, but at least we'd get it over with."

"Over with, schmover with," Yoongi insists playfully and his eyes slip into a sleepy visage; his expression softens though Jimin doesn't see.