"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Jimin says coldly, turning to face back out the window.

I glance at him before quickly bringing my eyes back to the road. "Well okay then," I whisper, confused. I wait patiently for him to explain to me what he's so upset about, but after 15 minutes it becomes clear to me that he has no intentions of sharing his thoughts with me. Sighing, I sink down in my seat, preparing myself for the two hours of radio silence ahead of me.


We're about 30 minutes from home when I can't take Jimin's silence anymore. My eyes stray over to him, taking in the hard set of his shoulders, the way his eyes stare out the window, not really seeing anything. If it wasn't for the soft rise and fall of his chest I would think he was a statue. I can tell he's upset about something, I just don't know what.

Maybe it's the fight?

I decide to take a chance, hoping that he would open up to me. I clear my throat, breaking the silence that now seems to be permanently surrounding us. "Do you want to talk about the fight we had last night?" I ask, hoping he would take the chance to talk it out with me. Instead, I'm met with radio silence as he doesn't even acknowledge that I've spoken to him. "I guess that's a no," I say quietly, focusing my attention back on the road.

I try to focus on driving, but I can't stop my mind from wandering to my dream from last night. The memories of it are fuzzy and often come to me in pieces, but those small snippets left me yearning for more. The first thing I remember is Jimin's eyes, the soft brown of them hazed over with desire. Then his hands, the gentleness in them as he held me, running them down my sides, under my shirt, touching my ba-

"Yoongi!" Jimin yells, bringing me out of my daydream, as we go dangerously far over the middle line. I jerk the car, bringing back into its assigned lane.

I look over to the passenger seat, coming face to face with Jimin's glaring eyes. I smile sheepishly, looking back out front. "My bad," I say, hoping he'll let it go. Of course he never makes anything easy for me.

"What the hell were you doing?" He asks me, his voice letting me know that he won't accept anything other than the truth. The problem was, I couldn't just tell him the truth. As we stood right now, Jimin and I were on a rocky road. We still hadn't made up from the whole "soulmate" thing and now it would seem he's mad at me for something new. What was I supposed to tell him?

Sighing, I decide to go with a version of the truth. "Sorry, I zoned out. I was thinking about the dream I had last night," I explain, hoping it will be enough.

"What was the dream about?"

Aw hell.

"Nothing much," I lie quickly, trying to avoid his question.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be spacing out while driving, almost killing us," he argues.

Touché.

Groaning, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles white. "Do I really need to tell you? Is it really any of your business what I dream about?" I didn't mean for my voice to sound so harsh, but if he noticed he didn't say anything about it.

"Normally no, it's not my business. But you almost killed me because of this dream, so now it is my business," he points out.

"Fine, fine. I'll tell you," I say, my cheeks warming with a blush. "It- it was a bad dream."

"A bad dream? Like a nightmare?" he asks, confused.

I groan at his obliviousness, wishing I could just bang my head off a wall. "No, not like a nightmare." I pause, trying to think of the best way to put my next statement. "I mean like a sex dream, Jimin," I explain, opting just to be blunt. Jimin whips around in his seat, surprising me. My eyes flash to his, seeing something like hope hiding behind them.

"A-a sex dream?" he asks, his cheeks reddening to match my own.

Glad I'm not the only one embarrassed to be talking about this.

"Yeah, you know what sex is, right?"

His blush intensifies, spreading from his cheeks to envelope his ears. His mouth opens and closes as if he's unsure how to answer me. "Of course I do! I'm a grown man," he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking a lot like a child despite his statement. I can't stop the laugh that bubbles out from me, which earns me a glare from Jimin. "So who was it?"

The question takes me by surprise. Jimin's angry frown turns to a smug smirk as a laugh lodges in my throat, choking me. "Wh-What?" I ask, getting control of my airways back.

"Who was the dream about?" he repeats.

"Oh, uh. No one important," I stammer out, feeling my blush returning.

"That's a lot of blushing for someone that's not important," he teases.

I bring my hand up to my face, covering my cheeks. "I'm not blushing."

"Uh huh," he laughs. "You're such a liar. But for real, who was it?"

Inwardly groaning, I wish he would just let the question go. I can't tell him the truth, but I also can't bring myself to lie to him. I decide to play my signature card. I dawn an impassive expression, my blush disappearing. "I don't think that's any of your business, do you?" I ask, my voice stony.

"I-I guess not," he stutters out, the leather groaning as he once again turns away from me. I feel bad for pushing him away, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I didn't want to burden him with my feelings, especially not so soon after dropping the "soulmate" bomb.

We sit quietly for a few minutes, my guilt eating at me. Breaking, I reach out, placing my hand on his thigh, my eyes still staring straight ahead. "I'm sorry, Jimin. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I was just embarrassed," I admit, my apology sincere.

"It's okay, hyung. I understand," he says, placing his hand on mine. My head fills with the memory of them, the softness of them as they cradled my head, tangling in my hair. I have to work to force the images out, clearing my head. "I shouldn't have pushed you about it," Jimin continues. "You were right, it's none of my business."

"That's good," I say. "I'm glad we worked that out." I try to pull my hand back to me, Jimin's hand squeezing mine for a moment before slowly releasing me. Taking a deep breath, I try to bring up our previous topic. "Can we talk about the fight now?" I ask, returning my hand to the wheel.

"What about it?" Jimin asks, uninterested.

Frustration bubbles up in me at his attitude. I was trying to take this seriously, to talk things through. But if Jimin wasn't willing to do the same for me, then what was the point? I clench and unclench my teeth, trying to keep my calm. When I was sure I wouldn't yell at him, I let myself speak. "Nothing. Nevermind, it's not important," I say, brushing it off.

Jimin doesn't fight me on it, instead he turns to watch all the buildings rush passed us as we finally make it to Seoul. I take the familiar roads, making it to our building. I pull into the garage and, unsurprisingly, reclaim my pervious parking spot. I had barely turned the car off before Jimin was throwing open his door, slamming it shut behind him.

I grit my teeth, inhaling through my nose. The stale air of the garage assaults my nostrils as I open the door, finally stretching my legs after hours in the car. I move to the trunk of my car, opening it to retrieve my tarp, when my colors start to fade. I hear Jimin's footsteps walking away from me, the tarp in my hands darkening to an almost-black with each echo that bounce back to me.

And he says that I'm the one that runs away.

Ignoring the bitterness I feel building in my chest, I cover my car. After making sure that it was secured correctly, I walk to the door, the soft pounding of my feet on the concrete the only sound in the garage. I step through the door, climbing the short flight of steps back up to the lobby. There I climb even more steps up to my level and by the time I get there I'm tired and annoyed.

When I pass Jimin's door, I throw up my hand, wishing I was flipping off a small orange haired boy instead of the door. I unlock my door, stepping into the comforting familiarity of my apartment. I hang my keys up, slipping off my shoes and stepping further inside. Moving into my living room, my walls start to brighten a bit. I look toward the wall, knowing that Jimin is on the other side.

My heart aches with the need to move closer, to let myself see the colors around me. If I was honest, a small part of me just wanted to feel like they were closer to Jimin. I knew that taking him to my parents would change everything, that he would think of me differently after hearing about my curse.

When we first met, I worked hard to keep space between us. I shut down his advances, I tried to avoid him, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job. Now I realize that I was wrong. I had thought I put space between us. But it wasn't until right now, when I'm standing in my living room with my heart torn between anger and longing, that I realize we have never been so close, but so far apart.