Chapter Text
Jeongguk took one look at Yoongi as he walked into the apartment, still sleep-soft and smiling without realizing it, and gasped.
“You didn’t text me. You always text me! What happened? Did you get married? Did you make eye contact and combust?” They put down their phone and focused all of their attention on him, their eyes fixated on his and waiting for a response.
Yoongi flopped onto the couch and relaxed his posture. “Good morning to you, too.”
Jeongguk narrowed their eyes. “No. No evasive banter! You stayed over at Jimin’s, didn’t you?”
Yoongi sipped his chai tea latte, which he had gotten on the way to his apartment. “Technically, yes.”
Jeongguk slammed both palms on the table dramatically, “I KNEW IT!”
Yoongi chuckled, then shrugged. “We had dinner. We kissed. I woke up with coffee and the best goddamn blanket in human history.”
Jeongguk’s face softened immediately. “Oh.”
Yoongi looked at them. “Yeah. Oh.”
They sipped their espresso, quieter now. “You look… settled. Like your skin fits right.”
Yoongi exhaled, yet smiled slightly. “I didn’t have to explain anything. Not my name, not my boundaries, not my weird thing where I sleep on the couch even when invited to the bed.”
Jeongguk smiled. “Sounds like someone likes you for who you are, not who they think you’re supposed to be.”
“Terrifying, right?” Yoongi said, grinning.
“Hot,” Jeongguk corrected. “Terrifying and hot. I'm already planning your domestic gay future. Get ready.”
Taehyung doesn’t even look up from the character selection screen on his tablet. “You brought post-date energy into my house. Did you cuddle?”
Jimin threw a couch pillow at him. “We did more than cuddle.”
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Like emotionally or biblically?”
Jimin flopped onto the couch and looked towards the ceiling as she relaxed. “Emotionally. Physically. Kissing. Blanket-sharing. Toothbrush proximity.”
Taehyung fake-wiped a tear. “My enby is in love.”
Jimin didn’t correct him, and Taehyung looked at her, his smile gentler now. “How’s it feel?”
Jimin exhaled. “Easy. Not simple—but easy. Like… I don’t have to prove anything to be wanted.”
“Sounds fake but okay.”
Jimin grinned. “He makes me want to stay.”
Taehyung paused the game. “You’ve had a lot of first dates. This sounds like you’re aiming for a last.”
Jimin looked down, quiet for a beat.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I am.”
Several days after the dinner date at Jimin’s apartment, they are chilling on the couch together, watching a queer documentary that is both equally making them cry and scream at the screen. About halfway through, Jimin decided to mute the documentary during a particularly egregious commercial break.
“We should get out of town,” she said suddenly, chopsticks still in hand.
Yoongi glanced over. “Like… flee the state?”
“Tempting, but no. Just… something soft. Something queer. Not here.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “This your subtle way of suggesting we go off-grid and start a tiny gay farm?”
Jimin snorted. “You’d last 48 hours. You need AC and good Wi-Fi.”
“True,” Yoongi admitted. “But I can milk a metaphorical goat.”
Jimin bumped his shoulder. “I meant—there’s a Pride thing in Charlotte next weekend. Overnight. Food trucks. DJs. A parade. Vendors.”
Yoongi paused. “You want to go together?”
Jimin shrugged, more casual than she felt. “If you want to. We could take the train. Split an Airbnb. Or, like, sleep in a pile of pillows and emotional support snacks.”
Yoongi watched them for a second. Then: “Yeah. I’d really like that.”
Jimin turned to face him more fully. “Really?”
Yoongi nodded, his smile soft. “I want to know what it’s like to be somewhere new with you, where we don’t know anyone. Just… you and me. Loud and queer and messy.”
Jimin grinned. “Then it’s a date.”
Yoongi leaned in, resting his head on her shoulder. “A really gay one.”
Jimin wrapped an arm around him. “The best kind.”
Yoongi was folded over Jimin’s couch, a very serious packing list open on his phone that he was scrolling through and double-checking.
“Okay. Train tickets? Confirmed. Airbnb code? Saved. SPF 50, emergency tampons, extra binder—check, check, check.”
Jimin walked out of the bedroom holding a mesh crop top and a plush frog hat. “Okay, but hear me out: this is camp.”
Yoongi looked up. “That’s not camp. That’s a Muppet gender crisis.”
Jimin gasped. “Rude. Kermit is a queer icon.”
“Your definition of Pride attire is ‘What if a toddler dressed themselves after watching Moonlight and Moulin Rouge back-to-back.’”
Jimin playfully tossed a rainbow bandana at him. “You’re just mad I have a vision.”
“I have a vision too,” Yoongi said, deadpan. “It’s called ‘clean socks and not crying on the train’.’”
Jimin knelt next to the suitcase. “What are you packing then, Mr. Functional?”
Yoongi lifted a neat stack of shirts: one said “Trans Rights or Else”, another is just the word “HOT” in block letters, and the last is a soft pink one that says “Please Be Gentle With Me, I’m Soft and Anxious.”
Jimin stared at the last one. “Oh my god, that shirt is you.”
Yoongi blushed. “Jeongguk gave it to me.”
Jimin mock-clutched her heart. “I’m in love with both you and your found family.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes with a smile but didn’t deny the comment.
Then Jimin pulled out the same fanny pack from the last Pride celebration that they met at. “I have my essentials bag. I’ve got gum, wet wipes, phone charger, pronoun pins, a protein bar, and four condoms.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Planning something special?”
Jimin shrugged, but there was a hint of blush on her cheeks. “I like to be prepared. And I support safe gay decision-making.”
Yoongi tried to hold in a laugh and failed at it. “You’re chaos.”
Jimin grinned. “And you like it.”
Yoongi sighed playfully. “Unfortunately.”
Jimin leaned in, nudging him with a shoulder. “Okay. I’m packed. You?”
“Almost.” Yoongi glanced down at his suitcase, hesitating over one more item: a tiny Polaroid of him and Jeongguk at their first Pride, tucked into a book like a secret.
Jimin noticed but doesn’t ask. Just said, softly, “You’ll bring your past, and I’ll bring my absurdity. We’ll balance out.”
Yoongi smiled at that. “Deal.”
Jimin stood up. “Now let’s both overpack shoes and pretend we won’t end up wearing the same beat-up sneakers both days.”
Jimin dragged a tiny wheeled suitcase covered in a variety of different pride flag stickers. Yoongi had a very functional backpack with a subtle rainbow pin and anxiety in his eyes as they boarded the train station. They took a seat in the less crowded part of the train and relaxed into their seats.
“Did you bring snacks?” Jimin asked as she pulled out her phone.
“Of course.”
“Are they queer enough, though? That's the real question.” Jimin looked towards him and snickered.
Yoongi pulled out sour rainbow belts and vegan jerky. “They’re definitely bi-coded.”
Jimin grinned and scooted close to him. “You’re perfect.”
Yoongi laughs. “You’re lucky I like chaos.”
Jimin winks. “And you’re lucky I come with glitter.”
A comfortable silence fell between the two of them as they watched the train fly by the scenery, lots of greenery, and occasional mountains in the backdrop. Jimin occasionally grabbed some of the sour rainbow belts and vegan jerky, to which Yoongi playfully scoffed at the chaotic combination of flavors. As they continued their minimal conversations and snack sharing, Jimin noticed a stranger on the train who would periodically look over at grimace at them. She tried to ignore it and didn't tell Yoongi about the exchange, but it became unbearable as it continued. Therefore, Jimin decided to be Jimin and point it out.
"Excuse me, do you have a problem?" She spoke up with distaste on her tongue.
"I just don't know why you have to flaunt it," the older man said.
"Flaunt what exactly?" At this, Yoongi looked between the two of them quizzically, yet stayed quiet.
"You know what," was all the older man said to him, which seemed to fire Jimin up.
"No, I don't actually." Jimin spat out.
"Being faggots," he scoffed. "That's what you're flaunting."
"Jimin, let's just leave him alone-" Yoongi intervened, but was then interrupted by Jimin, who was fuming at this point.
"Leave him alone? He's the one harassing us!" Jimin raised her voice, starting to cause a scene in this packed train.
"Jimin, it's not worth it," Yoongi sighed and rubbed soothing circles on Jimin's lower back.
"He just called us the f slur," Jimin brought her voice down, but was still pretty upset at the interaction.
"And? There's nothing we can do about it," Yoongi attempted to console.
"I guess you're right," she sighed, grimaced towards the older man, and turned her attention to her phone in an attempt to shift focus.
The older man left them alone for the remainder of the trip, where they decided to be extra queer and cuddle up while laughing loudly at each other. If he was any more uncomfortable with the exchange between Yoongi and Jimin, it wasn't noted by him, which meant the other two could just exist in peace. They continued to snack on the sour rainbow belts and vegan jerky, feeding them to each other obnoxiously.
After roughly 2.5 hours, they finally arrived at the station, where they would disembark and proceed to their Airbnb. The train moved forward as they stayed still at the station, looking at directions on how to get out the best and easiest way, and where exactly they would be staying. Yoongi seemed to have it all figured out within ten minutes, making a tentative game plan of getting an Uber to take them to their Airbnb, where they would rest for the rest of the night before their day at Charlotte Pride.
The Uber's door slammed shut with a dramatic clunk—courtesy of Jimin, who had just spent the last twenty minutes monologuing about how his mesh crop top was “a statement, not an invitation.”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, hoisting their overnight bag out of the trunk. “You say that like someone’s already harassed you. We’ve been in Charlotte for five minutes.”
“They looked at me funny,” Jimin huffed, adjusting her oversized sunglasses despite it being well past sunset.
Yoongi snorted. “We were at a red light, and there are many explanations for them looking at you.”
Inside the Airbnb, the vibe was a suspicious blend of IKEA minimalism meets your rich aunt’s side hustle. There was a velvet chaise lounge and a framed quote that read Live, Laugh, Love in neon script above the TV.
Jimin immediately threw herself into the chaise like a Regency-era duchess. “This is where I shall faint after dancing all day in heels tomorrow.”
“You're not even wearing heels,” Yoongi said, dropping his bag with a thud. “You brought combat boots and tennis shoes.”
“They’re platform tennis shoes,” Jimin corrected, sitting up with mock offense. “There’s a difference. They give me gay height.”
Yoongi chuckled, stepping into the kitchenette and poking around the cabinets. “Do you want tea or are we still pretending we’ll go out tonight?”
Jimin kicked off her shoes and walked over, stealing a hug from behind. “I want tea and to pretend. Both can be true.”
Yoongi paused, his hand still on a mug handle. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know I’m cute,” Jimin beamed, then pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s jaw. “And you—are cute and hot, which should be illegal.”
“You’ve been saying that since the train ride.”
“And I meant it every time.” Jimin twirled away, singing “Charlotte Pride, we’re coming for youuuuu,” while dramatically striking poses in the mirror.
Yoongi rolled his eyes fondly, heart full and warm. “You’re such a dork.”
"Well, you're dating a dork, so that makes you a dork, too."
"I guess you're right..."
Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, illuminating the chaotic pile of sequins, safety pins, and strategically ripped denim that now covered the Airbnb’s living room like the aftermath of a fabulous tornado.
Jimin stood triumphantly in front of the full-length mirror wearing a sheer pink blouse, star-shaped nipple pasties, and silver booty shorts that could legally qualify as a napkin. She turned, admiring the way the sunlight hit the glitter on her cheekbones. “I look like if Sailor Moon went to art school and got a tattoo of a frog on her ass.”
Yoongi, still trying to wrangle his binder over his head, grunted from the bathroom. “Why a frog on her ass?”
“Maybe she thought it was cool? I don't know.”
Yoongi emerged looking like the hot boy version of a disco ball: mesh tank, black high-waisted jeans, Converse, and rainbow suspenders. His hair flopped slightly in his eyes, which only added to the charm. Jimin nearly dropped his mascara wand.
“You look like the gender I wanted to be when I grew up,” Jimin whispered dramatically.
Yoongi blushed and made a face. “It’s the suspenders, huh?”
“It’s everything. You look like the queer agenda with a face.”
Yoongi walked over, straightening Jimin’s collar with gentle fingers. “You look incredible. I feel underdressed next to you.”
“You’re not.” Jimin beamed, then tapped Yoongi’s chest playfully. “You’re dressed like someone who knows they’re hot but doesn’t need to tweet about it.”
“Is that a dig at me tweeting ‘I’m hot’ last week?” Yoongi deadpanned.
Jimin just winked. “It got 1.5k likes. The people agree.”
They stood in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting each other’s outfits wordlessly—fixing a glitter smudge here, untangling a necklace there. It was soft and familiar and felt weirdly domestic for two people about to go scream-sing Carly Rae Jepsen lyrics with thousands of strangers.
“You ready?” Yoongi asked, picking up the little Pride flag he’d packed in his bag two weeks in advance.
“Ready to strut,” Jimin said, spinning once for flair. “To queerness. To chaos. To not sweating through this shirt before noon.”
Yoongi smirked. “To loving you exactly like this.”
And with that, they stepped out the door—looking like two sapphic sirens disguised as a gay couple in love, ready to take on Charlotte Pride one glitter-covered sidewalk at a time.
The midday sun shimmered over uptown Charlotte, casting a golden glow on Tryon Street as the Pride parade turned the city into a rainbow-soaked celebration. Yoongi adjusted his sunglasses, his hand lightly brushing against Jimin’s as they weaved through the crowd, their fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
“You good?” Yoongi asked, leaning closer so his voice could cut through the music and laughter swirling around them.
Jimin smiled, cheeks already flushed pink from the heat—or maybe something else. “Better than good.”
As they reached the edge of the festival grounds, booths and flags filled the space like a dream. A flurry of color caught their attention near a tent with a sign that read: “Pride Starts With You.” In front of it stood a man, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses pushed into his hair, a tote bag overflowing with buttons slung across his chest. He was handing them out with the kind of gentle enthusiasm—earnest, warm, like the sun itself had found a human form.
“Yo, Button Guy!” Jimin called, jogging up with a grin.
He looked up, his face lighting up in that wide, dimpled smile. “Well, well, if it isn’t Minnie,” he said, pressing a rainbow heart button into Jimin’s palm. Then, to Yoongi: “And the romantic himself.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes affectionately and realized he must have seen the live to put two and two together that they were an item now. “Save your poetry for someone else.”
He laughed, then reached into the bag again, pulling out a button that read: “Loudly and Proudly Queer.” He held it out to Yoongi. “This one’s for you. Even if you only wear it on the inside.”
For a moment, Yoongi hesitated—then he took it and smiled.
The button Namjoon gave him was still warm in Yoongi’s hand as they walked deeper into the festival. The bass from the main stage pulsed through the pavement, drawing them closer to the crowd gathering near the DJ booth. Everywhere they turned, there were glitter-dusted cheeks, queer flags swirling in the wind, and people loving freely—loudly. It was overwhelming in the best way.
“I think I see Hoseok!” Jimin shouted over the music, tugging Yoongi’s sleeve and pointing toward the elevated DJ platform.
Sure enough, there he was—Jung Hoseok, aka DJ Hope, behind the turntables in a shimmering mesh tank top and neon cargo pants, hair dyed a fiery orange and styled into a perfect wave. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand, every drop and beat synced with his signature smile.
“He’s in his element,” Button guy said, watching fondly.
"What's your name, Button guy?"
"Namjoon," he smiled once more.
As the song transitioned into a high-energy remix of Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own,” Hoseok caught sight of them from the stage. His face lit up, and he threw his arms into a heart above his head, then pointed to them and mouthed, “STAY RIGHT THERE!”
A moment later, the track transitioned again—this time into a thumping remix of “Born This Way.” Jimin squealed in delight.
“Is he—”
“Oh, he’s doing it,” Yoongi muttered, though a proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Hoseok bounded down from the booth during the instrumental break, weaving through the crowd until he reached them, breathless but glowing.
“The lovebirds! ” he shouted, throwing his arms around Yoongi and Jimin in a sweat-slicked group hug. “You made it!”
“You’re killing it,” Jimin said, bouncing with the beat.
Hoseok winked. “This whole set’s for us. Queer joy, baby.”
He pulled back and turned to Yoongi, giving him a look—a quiet one, soft and knowing. “You good?”
Yoongi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Actually… yeah, I am.”
Hoseok grinned like he already knew. “Then let’s dance.”
The sun dipped behind the skyline, casting a lavender hue across the Charlotte streets. Strings of lights flickered to life above the festival, glowing like stars caught in a net. The music never stopped—just transformed, mellowing into a pulsing, dreamy rhythm as the crowd swayed under the twilight.
Yoongi stood near the edge of the dance area, arms folded, gaze flicking between the sky and the people moving freely around him. His button was pinned now, just under his heart. He hadn’t even realized when he’d done it.
“Hey,” Jimin said softly, stepping beside him, cheeks flushed from dancing. “You okay?”
Yoongi’s voice came quieter than usual. “Yeah. Just… taking it all in.”
Jimin smiled and bumped his shoulder gently. “You don’t have to force anything, but you know you don’t have to hide either. Not here.”
Yoongi looked at him—really looked. The sparkle in Jimin’s eyes, the way he stood just close enough to feel like home. The noise of the festival faded at the edges.
“I know,” Yoongi said. Then, after a beat: “Stay with me?”
“Always,” Jimin answered, and offered his hand.
Yoongi stared at it for a moment. Then he took it.
They moved into the rhythm together—slowly at first. Yoongi's movements were subtle, almost shy, but Jimin didn’t push. He just guided, gently, letting Yoongi find his way in the music.
Hoseok noticed from the booth and transitioned into a softer, more sensual remix. Yoongi glanced up at him, then laughed under his breath.
“Show-off,” he muttered.
Jimin leaned in close, their foreheads nearly touching. “He’s just setting the mood.”
And somehow, in the glow of rainbow lights and the hush of a hundred proud hearts beating nearby, Yoongi let himself move. Not for show. Not for anyone else. Just for the boy in front of him, whose hand felt like safety and whose smile felt like freedom.
And in that moment, Yoongi danced without a care in the world.
The city had quieted down. The rainbow banners still fluttered gently from light poles, and the glitter in the streets sparkled faintly under streetlamps like traces of magic left behind. Pride was winding down, but something lingered in the air—a kind of stillness filled with meaning.
Yoongi and Jimin sat on the hood of a parked food truck, shoes kicked off, sharing a greasy paper tray of fries with too much salt and not enough ketchup. It was perfect.
Neither had said much since they left the festival. They didn’t need to.
Yoongi broke a fry in half and offered one to Jimin, who took it without question, brushing his pinky against Yoongi’s just to feel that soft contact again. The city felt quieter with Yoongi like this—shoulders relaxed and button still pinned to this shirt.
“I thought it’d be louder in my head,” Yoongi said suddenly, his voice soft. “After today. But… it’s not.”
Jimin looked over at him, resting his chin on his hand. “What do you mean?”
“I thought coming here—being this open in a bigger city with you—would make me anxious. Like it would be too much. But it’s not. It’s just… peaceful. Like I finally let my chest expand all the way.”
Jimin nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “That’s what pride feels like, I think. Not just flags and music and noise—but… letting yourself be in the quiet too.”
Yoongi turned to him. The streetlight caught the faint shimmer on Jimin’s cheek, remnants of glitter that clung like stars.
“Thank you for being patient with me today,” Yoongi said.
Jimin’s reply was almost a whisper. “I’d wait for you in every lifetime.”
Yoongi’s breath caught. He blinked down at the fry tray, then back up at Jimin. “Are you always this dramatic?”
Jimin grinned. “Only when I mean it.”
They both laughed quietly. Yoongi leaned in until their shoulders touched, then rested his head against Jimin’s for a moment. The kind of moment that didn’t need a kiss to mean everything, though if one came, it would be earned and gentle and honest.
Above them, a breeze stirred the flags still left behind, and the sky turned from violet to deep blue.
And for once, Yoongi didn’t feel like he had to shrink to fit into the world.
He belonged—right here, right now, with Jimin.