Chapter Text
It was only a matter of time before it happened. He had been preparing himself for this since the moment he decided not to study business and finance to push forward his family's company. They had made it very clear.
“If you want to pursue that shit degree then you will owe us something. And when the time comes, you can't say no.”
Now, there were few directions in which that could go. There weren't many ways in which he could contribute to his family's business and he was sure they meant that the favour had to be about the business at some point. Either he would have to drop everything and go help – no matter what – sometime in the future or be forced to marry someone who brings something to the table.
During his early 20s he desperately hoped they would never need that favour from him, especially not the latter, which wasn't that uncommon as some might think. Wealthy families, powerful people, usually arranged marriages of convenience between their children for the businesses to grow and for the family connections to become stronger.
That hope was ultimately crushed the day of his 27th birthday, during lunch, when his parents announced he was getting married soon. After listing all the business-related reasons on why it needed to be done, they were quick to remind him that he was getting old, and as an omega, he couldn't live without a mate forever, right? ‘His reproductive system aged along with him’ as his omega mother had plainly stated.
Jimin didn't contribute much to the conversation, eating in silence and nodding when necessary. Any attempt at convincing them otherwise would be in vain. So why try?
Once they were done, he set down his cutlery and clasped his hands together. “You spoke for half an hour and I still don't know who I'm marrying.”
“You will meet him tonight. Since it's your birthday, it's only fair for your fiancé to get you a gift, am I right? How would you like a surprise, hm? We’ll let you find out later today, but you can rest assured that we made a great choice.”
He would find that to be an overstatement soon enough.
The dinner was held at the Park's mansion, though Jimin had been living on his own for almost 6 years by then.
He arrived early, ever the stickler for time, so he wasn't that entertained by the fact that his supposed fiancé came 30 minutes late.
In those 30 minutes, he got to know his in-laws somewhat. They seemed apologetic about their son's behaviour – as apologetic as a couple of two alphas could get.
Jimin never had a close relationship with his parents and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be having one with his in-laws. His degree in psychology did come in handy.
Of course, he had heard about the Mins before, his parents did business with them often and he was aware they were into some more shady stuff in order to obtain things. But that was the extent of his knowledge.
He tried to be optimistic. That didn't mean anything, right? They could still be good people. The rock sitting at the bottom of his stomach begged to differ.
When his betrothed – Yoongi – arrived, bringing along a short-tempered apology, the omega managed to catch the slightest hint of his scent despite the scent suppressant he probably used. It was that of the air right before it would start to rain, like nature's raw underlayer, petrichor-like. A hint of honey, but maybe his nose was tripping. All that, paired with the strong aroma of tobacco smoke that had stuck to his clothes. Heavy smoker from the looks of it, he noted.
He bowed to Jimin’s parents and offered the blond a nod, with not much of a glance, and easily took the seat beside him, getting comfortable.
The dinner came to an end soon enough, the two barely saying a word to each other, which induced quite a bit of anxiety in Jimin. What amplified it tenfold was the phrase his dad pronounced as the guests were getting up to leave.
“You’re moving in with Yoongi, Jimin-ah.”
“Yeah? I know– wait, you mean now?”
“I mean, yeah. Why not? A day more or less won't change a thing. You two are getting married in less than two weeks so–”
“Dad, now is not the right time to joke. I have paid the rent for my apartment this month and I need time to move everything. I may as well move in after we sign the papers.” Jimin was very polite to his parents at all times, however he could feel the attitude dripping through his words and it just pissed him off further. Did he deserve such a treatment?
It was at this time that his beloved fiancè decided to make himself heard. “Look, we can take care of moving the stuff tomorrow. I'll have someone help you pack and then load everything into the moving truck. But you can come with me tonight and we'll worry about the rest tomorrow. What do you think? We could chat a little bit, it would do us good.”
Jimin was unable to say no then. The explanation was reasonable enough to make him nod, though he couldn't hide the dejected look on his face.
A crooked smile crept across his father's mouth, and Jimin immediately knew what he was thinking. Yoongi could put Jimin in his place just right. And it made the younger’s skin crawl.
He gathered his belongings and followed Yoongi outside. While his in-laws said their goodbyes, his betrothed led them to his car – and to his defence, Jimin had always had a thing for cars. His jaw fell to the ground at the sight of Yoongi’s gorgeous Aston Martin in matte black, a DBS Superleggera. If he wouldn't be able to love his husband, he sure as hell was going to make use of that pretty baby.
He came back to reality when his beloved didn't bother opening the door for him, instead hopping into the driver's side without sparing him a glance.
The drive to his new house was too quiet for Jimin’s liking. “So uh, how old are you, again?”
Yoongi glanced at him with an admirable poker face. “Thirty three.”
Jimin fumbled with the dainty bracelet that adorned his wrist. “I'm twenty-seven, as of today!” He chirped, though he was feeling all but cheerful.
The other only hummed in response, eyes fixed on the road. Remaining kind of speechless, Jimin only stared at him, taking in all the details.
His features were quite delicate for an alpha, but those feline-like eyes were not to mess with. Jimin's eyes shifted to his perfectly ironed suit down to his arms until they settled on the hands wrapped around the steering wheel. Slender bony fingers tapping on the leather incessantly.
“Can you please stop the tapping? It makes my brain itch.”
He didn't miss the annoyed roll of eyes he was dealt with, but the tapping ultimately stopped.
Couldn't his parents find a more antisocial alpha for him?
Jimin ran a hand over his face and ultimately leaned against the cold window, until they arrived at Yoongi’s house.
The mansion stood like a painting come to life – elegant, imposing, and undeniably opulent. Its whitewashed brick façade, kissed by soft hues of twilight, seemed to glow beneath the moody, cloud-streaked sky of that October night. Tall, arched windows framed in bold black trimmed the house, their panes glowing warmly from within.
Two symmetrical wings extended like open arms from the stately centre. At the heart of the mansion, an arched double doorway to welcome him with ironwork as intricate as lace, framed by slender lanterns casting golden halos on the stone steps below.
He noticed a chequered marble path stretched from the grand entrance like a runway of sophistication, flanked by sculpted shrubs and lavender tufts that perfumed the air of the night. The lawn hinted at a gardener’s devotion because Jimin highly doubted that Yoongi did anything besides work.
This wasn’t merely a house, it was a statement. A place where chandeliers surely dripped from high ceilings. He was proved right as soon as he stepped in.
The interior was gorgeous, but the house seemed to lack something and he couldn't point out what. It didn't feel home-y enough for him and his omega was already feeling uncomfortable in the unknown place.
It did smell a lot more like what he picked up from the alpha, though, and Jimin had to admit he didn't mind the other's scent at all.
Setting his keys on the table, he turned to Yoongi only to catch him shrugging off the jacket and loosening his tie. Jimin wasn't one to get flustered easily, he was told to be easygoing, but the other wasn't giving him anything to work with.
“Should we sit down and talk a little?” He broke the silence, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater and crossing his arms over his chest. He was so glad to have used more scent patches, the thought of his scent being all over the place made his skin crawl.
The same way it did when Yoongi snorted.
Literally snorted.
“You– no, Jimin. No. Did you really think–” another laugh in disbelief, “I only said that so there wouldn't be a debate between you three. I don't need to talk to you, nor do I want to talk to you. This is merely a contract we will be signing. We’ll share a house and that will be it.”
Jimin opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by more harsh words spit out. “You can do whatever the fuck you want with your life the same way I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Yoongi rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, sighing deeply. “Don't go all optimistic on me. Neither of us wanted this, we just gotta live with it. Let's keep our presence the least known possible to the other and we will be fine.”
“It would be much easier if we got along–” he started, only to be met by the sight of the other's eyes rolling back.
“I don't have time for this shit. You can sleep in the first room on the right, second floor. We won't sleep together, God knows what you've been thinking.” He stalked closer to Jimin, pointing a finger to his chest. “You are far off my type, anyway. I wouldn't be able to get with you, gun to my head. So make sure you understand what you're getting into.”
Younger Jimin would've cried at the harsh words being thrown his way mercilessly and totally undeserved, but the work he had done with himself over the years stopped him just in time.
“Oh, I'll stay out of your way just fine, you'll see. But you will fucking learn to talk to me, because I don't do this spitting-out-venom shit you just did. Have a little respect. I thought you were more mature than this, but that's my mistake for thinking you're capable of that. Good fucking night, Yoongi.”
As he made his way to his assigned room – which had only pissed him off further – he tried to find solace in the way Yoongi's eyes had widened at his response in pure disbelief.
If he thought he was marrying a pliant omega who wouldn't talk back, he was wrong.
At least his future husband had not lied about having someone help him with packing up his stuff and moving them into the house. He had to wake up early to start the tedious process of packing. He was thankful it was a Sunday so he didn't have to go to work, that's why he was trying to finish everything within that day.
Starting off with his clothes, he managed to fill three big boxes of them and then all his accessories and the knickknacks that were scattered around his house. The worst part though was packing his collection of books.
You see, the shitty degree his parents were talking about was a double degree in psychology and education which later on allowed him to pursue a license in teaching and he finally became a librarian at a high school.
To say that he loved books would be an obvious understatement since he was little he would hide in his father's library room and just read whatever he got his hands into. His parents didn't really want to indulge into buying him children's books, not at the extent he wanted them to, so after he finished reading what was bought for him, he would move onto classics he would find in that room, law and economy books and so on.
Once he moved into his own apartment, he had collected a considerable amount of books. He was an avid believer of the phrase ‘people should read whatever they want to read’. While his parents firmly insisted that romance books, fantasy books and novellas like such were totally useless and didn't contribute in any way in a person's education, Jimin believed that just reading in general was good for the soul.
Who cares if one reads middle-grade books to escape adulthood and trauma, or comic books because they find them easier to digest, or thick classics because they like to drown in issues of other eras? That's the way he ran his school's library. Judgement-free.
He had been working there for three years now and the kids loved him already. He was a very intuitive omega, so he usually knew exactly what one student or the other needed that day, what type of interaction.
Most of them had gotten so comfortable with him that they asked to have a box of confessions put into the library for their open hours. The open hours were another initiative of Jimin.
Every two weeks each class would come into the library and basically do whatever they wanted. They could spend that hour reading in the library checking books or join the others into different discussions that Jimin chose for each group of students.
And saw the box of confessions would work this way: during different hours, whether they were checking in a book or checking it out or whether they were there for their open hour, if the students felt the need to share something with him, they would write a note fold it up and place it into the confessions’ box. They wouldn't write their name, just their class and so at the end of the week, Jimin would open up the box and sort each note into piles of which class it belonged to.
It did not necessarily mean that they discussed each note, in fact, most notes were just appreciation for his work or they shared random facts about their life.
What he chose to discuss instead were notes that contained a deep burden the student carried. Most of the time, he would eventually find out who had written the note, whether because the student would come up to him at some point and admit to it to ask for an opinion or a more thorough discussion, or simply because of his intuition and the way he studied their behaviour.
He was very proud of the little community he had built and how much the students' lives had improved, having one more person who cared about them deeply.
While dividing all his books into boxes he got a little emotional, flipping through his old notes, tabs and phrases he had underlined at the time, but he eventually managed to put everything away. It was way past midnight when the last truck was filled with his belongings and sent to his new house.
The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted with the sight of his fiance sitting on an armchair with a folder splayed open on his lap. The whole hallway was littered in boxes of different sizes, basically containing his whole life. Just the thought that he had to put everything away gave him a headache.
“Hey, how's it going?” Jimin greeted, because he wasn't an asshole, no matter what. When Yoongi merely kept looking at him, he rolled his eyes and proceeded to head into the kitchen.
Then the alpha's voice came from afar. “You don't need all this shit here, you could’a gotten rid of some instead of blocking the entire entryway.”
“Oh, there's another truck coming,” he sing-songed sweetly, while stirring his hot cocoa drink. “This place needs some personality anyway.”
“As if you had any,” the other muttered, but Jimin still picked up the sound, choosing to ignore him instead.
Drink in his hand, he walked over to the living room and plopped down on the couch, bringing his feet up on it, and started quietly sipping and scrolling on his phone.
He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't bother looking up.
“Do you have to be here? I'm working.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he replied. “Then go to your studio. I'm sure you have one. Stop being pissy, I'm not making a sound.”
“You sure ‘ve got a mouth on you.”
“Yes, darling, learn to appreciate it,” he smiled, briefly glancing at him to take in the absolutely fuming image of his betrothed. Of course he wasn't openly showing it, but Jimin could tell by the tight grip he had on the folder and the way he was toying with the pen between his slender fingers.
The next few days were so busy for Jimin that he barely had time to eat. Between unpacking everything into the new house, organizing all of his belongings and also going to work from 9 am to 4 pm, he was both mentally and physically exhausted by the time the weekend came.
The voicemail his mom served him with, listing all of the things he had to do in preparation of the wedding, did not help alleviate that exhaustion.
They – meaning his parents and Yoongi's parents – had decided to hold a small ceremony with only their closest family and of course some paparazzi, in order to announce the merger.
The days passed on a whim. Jimin was sent different options for the floral arrangements and the decor of the small venue along with different suits that he could choose from. He was somewhat thankful that the families had decided not to make such a big deal out of it, because he couldn't fake liking his husband for a long amount of time.
In the two weeks they had lived together, Yoongi had made sure to let him know he was going to ignore Jimin’s presence as much as possible. He would brush past him without acknowledging him, he wouldn't greet him at all, or let him know he was going to be late at work. In fact, Jimin noticed him arriving home later and later each day, causing a nagging feeling to grow roots in the younger’s chest.
The night before the wedding, Jimin was determined to get Yoongi to talk to him.
He had cooked a full Korean dinner, the kind that made the whole house smell warm and alive. There was bulgogi – thin slices of beef marinated in soy sauce, garlic, and pear, then seared until just caramelised at the edges. A pot of kimchi jjigae simmered on the stove, its deep red broth bubbling around soft tofu and bits of pork belly. He’d prepared sticky white rice, neatly mounded in bowls, and laid out a row of banchan: spicy cucumber salad, sesame-dressed spinach, soy-braised potatoes, and, of course, a small dish of pungent, homemade kimchi. At the centre of the table sat a steaming gyeran jjim, its silky surface trembling with every movement. It wasn’t fancy – but it was the kind of meal you made when you meant it as a peace offering, in his case.
He sent him a text, a simple ‘come have dinner early tonight’, but as the hands of the clock ticked and the food grew cooler, he understood.
Eating his own portion out of anger more than hunger, he left the rest on the table, bitterly hoping the other would feel bad after he'd see the effort Jimin had put on the dinner.
He locked himself in his room, staring at the ceiling in silence until a sob broke out and then another followed, and so on. Until he was full-on wailing. Until he felt sick to his stomach and emptied all of its contents in the toilet.
That was not the life he wanted, arranged marriage or not. He did not notice the sour scent of rotten flowers that had filled the house.
The next morning, he woke up puffy and did his best to fix his face before the lunch ceremony. He stood before the mirror in his blueish grey suit, a handkerchief neatly tucked in his jacket’s pocket, an embroidered sprig of lavender to match with his scent, as his mother suggested.
“Okay, you just have to get through this and then you can settle down. Just hold off your tongue for the ceremony and then you can tell that asshole alpha to go fuck himself.”
The pep talk seemed to work, because when Yoongi came home to get him – they had to arrive together – he refused to acknowledge him altogether.
The drive was silent. His soon-to-be husband had stuck to a black suit, the red handkerchief in his pocket being the only pop of color. Black shirt. In the closed space of the Aston Martin, he soon picked up on the obvious scent of the alpha. He had grown accustomed to it the past two weeks, since the house contained the same smell, however in the small cabin it was amplified tenfolds, because he was sure the other had not worn scent patches. The scent was heady and it was making his mind go fuzzy. Somewhere deep within him, his omega nuzzled into himself.
Only then did it dawn on him: they were going to have to scent each other at the ceremony. He had totally forgotten about that.
“Uh. Do we– will we have to scent each other? I forgot… about that part. I wore a scent patch.”
He turned to look at Yoongi who scoffed in annoyance.
“Then do something to amplify your scent. I don't care.”
Jimin slapped a hand across his thigh in disbelief. “I swear to god, could you be more fucking annoying? I ain't gonna do shit, if you don't care, I don't care either.” He crossed his arms and leaned away from the other, staring out the window. His inner omega cried softly, dejected, but Jimin tried not to sniffle.
His emotions were a mess.
His jaw was so clenched he could feel his teeth hurt, so he eventually forced himself to loosen up. There was a tight knot sitting at the bottom of his stomach and it was making him feel uneasy, unwelcome and unwanted, and quite frankly he was not used to the last two.
When they arrived at the venue, Jimin was pleased to see the place had been decorated just the way he wanted. However he noted many paparazzi waiting on the sides of the carpet that lead them to the main area.
Determined not to care, as he had stated, he remained seated and made no move to get out.
He could feel Yoongi staring at him incessantly.
“What are you waiting for?”
He refused to answer.
“Jimin, come on. We have to get going.” He sounded exasperated and that pleased the younger.
“You can't do this right now, they are waiting for us–”
“You're so dense,” he murmured, mindlessly fixing up his suit.
The other echoed the look of someone that was taken aback.
“What do you– oh.” Okay, maybe he caught on faster than Jimin anticipated.
Soon enough, Yoongi was getting out of the car and making his way to Jimin’s door, opening it for him and holding out his hand.
Jimin debated on whether he should or shouldn't take his hand, but he was forced to do it because of the cameras pointed at them. He offered a gentle smile as the other helped him out of the car. He linked his arm through his future husband's and they walked inside the venue mostly ignoring the cameras. Jimin wore a (fake) serene smile while Yoongi didn't let much show on his face.
The guests were waiting for them. They had to walk right down the aisle and in front of the officiant.
Jimin caught sight of his two best friends standing on the side and he felt some weight being lifted off his shoulders. He felt less alone.
The officiant introduced the betrothed and initiated his speech to which Jimin paid little to no attention to. His attention was shifted to the way Yoongi cradled his hands into his own bigger ones. He didn't expect the older one to have such smooth and gentle hands.
He was pulled out of the trance when he heard his name being called multiple times and at Yoongi squeezing his hand hard to get his attention. He had snapped up towards Yoongi and then towards the officiant. His fiancé looked slightly panicked. As if Jimin was going to back off at this point.
“Do you, Park Jimin, take alpha Min Yoongi, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”
Jimin almost cursed under his breath. Why did he have to be asked first. He ultimately nodded. “I do. I, Park Jimin, take you, Min Yoongi, to be my husband. I promise to love, honour and cherish you every day of your– my life,” he finished off, smugly. He felt proud of the implication that he would outlive the other. Tiny revenges.
He stared into the other's eyes with a bright grin and he could tell the other wanted to wipe that grin from his face.
The officiant continued. “Do you, Min Yoongi, take omega Park Jimin, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”
Jimin almost winced at the brute force with which Yoongi was squeezing his hands.
“I do. I, Min Yoongi, take you, Jimin, to be my husband. I promise to honour you, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
Jimin was sure Yoongi was feeling the same urge to roll his eyes at the meaningless words that he was forcefully pushing out of his mouth.
“May I have the rings? These rings are a symbol of your love and commitment. As you place this ring on Jimin’s finger, repeat after me:
‘With this ring, I give you my heart. I promise from this day forward, you shall not walk alone.’”
Yoongi took the ring between his fingers while he held Jimin’s left hand in his own and reluctantly repeated the words, slipping the ring on the other's finger. Jimin repeated the same process, the silence around them just reminding him how much of a formality everything was.
“By the power vested in me by the State, I now pronounce you spouses for life. You may kiss!”
Jimin had forgotten about this part too.
Yoongi's arm snaked around his waist. His hand, now adorned by a new ring rested on his cheek as he leaned down, pressing his lips to Jimin's chastely, pulling away a few seconds later. Jimin didn't have time to process it, Yoongi having moved to just holding his hand and turning towards the small crowd of guests who were cheering them on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honour to present to you, for the first time, the newlyweds!”
Pictures were being snapped left and right, Jimin looked around disoriented, the reality of what was happening finally hitting him.
His friends picked up on his state and got closer to the couple to congratulate them.
Taehyung pulled Jimin in for a tight hug. “It's okay, Jiminie, you did great. Everything's gonna be alright, pull it together,” he whispered in his ear, holding him close.
Jimin nodded, blinking away tears. He was officially tied to an alpha that didn't love him, that didn't even want to be civil with him. How was he gonna get through his days like that?
“Now, for the more traditional part, to keep in touch with our ancestors, you may scent each other,” the officiant stated.
Jimin turned to Yoongi so fast it made his head spin. Yoongi gave him a small nod and pulled the younger one to himself, one hand going to cup his jaw as he spoke quietly, only for him to hear. “Wanna go first or should I go first?”
“You– I… I don't know–” he was overwhelmed and disoriented, words remained stuck to his throat.
“Here, you go first, okay? Just– just nuzzle into my neck, yeah?” He sounded so gentle that it made Jimin want to pull his hair out. He gave a firm nod and then Yoongi guided Jimin’s face into the crook of his neck.
Jimin’s eyes watered and widened at the intense scent that awaited him there. He took a deep breath, pressing his nose against his husband’s scent gland which made him calm down visibly. He ran his nose over it twice, urging more of that intoxicating smell to enter his system and then he pressed his lips to it. If he sensed Yoongi tensing under his touch, he didn't let it show. Then smoothly, he turned so he would rub the side of his neck to the other's briefly, and then Yoongi pulled him away with a nod.
“See, you did it. Now, my turn. Just stay still, yeah?”
‘Yeah,’ he was going to answer, but the answer got slapped back in his face when Yoongi pressed his face against his neck.
Goosebumps arose on his skin and his eyes fluttered shut. His hand reached up to hold onto Yoongi’s for leverage, while the other rubbed his scent all over the omega. He was sure the scent patches had worn off by then, with the amount of pheromones he was unconsciously releasing.
Yoongi hummed against his neck at some point and then pulled back, pupils dilated as he stared at Jimin, before snapping out of the trance and moving away.
They managed to quickly compose themselves and then rushed to greet the guests, glasses of champagne in their hands.
“So! Have you two gotten accustomed to each other yet?” Yoongi's mum asked, patting Jimin’s back.
The smile he gave could fool anyone. “Oh, yes. Our schedules work well together, we are slowly getting used to living together.”
“Yoongi can be a nuisance with his late nights, but it's the job that requires him to do so. I hope you will be able to understand with time that work is always going to be his priority,” she smiled, as if she was telling him the opposite instead. Who in their right mind would tell a newlywed that he is never going to be his husband's first priority? The Mins, apparently.
He nodded lightly, not wanting to ruin the mood. After all, it was a marriage of convenience, though convenient to everyone but him.
“I understand that, I won't ask anything more than respect from him. I would never want to become an obstacle to his success.” His eyes darted to his husband, who was talking business with some people, at their wedding reception. Of course.
“Oh, Jimin, we couldn't have made a better choice than you! I'm so glad you understand. Yoongi-yah! Come here, darling.”
Yeah, he understood alright. He almost rolled his eyes at his husband showing up without sparing him a glance.
“You should take some pictures, the photographer is waiting for you in the corner there. It will be part of the next Business weekly.”
“On the magazine?!” Jimin squeaked, looking between the two.
“Yes, darling. You will be just fine, you're very pretty.”
“That's not–”
Before he could finish speaking, Yoongi practically dragged him there. Jimin was quick to replace the horror on his face with a forced smile, as the photographer congratulated them.
“Let's move on to the hallways of the cathedral, there are some cool hallways and balconies to take gorgeous, old-money vibes, pictures.”
Yoongi gave him a short nod and followed suit, along with Jimin attached to his hip, because he was scared to get lost.
The grand hall rose around them like a cathedral of silence, its towering columns brushed with centuries of stories, their veins of grey and ivory catching shadows like secrets.
“Do you have any poses you want to try out or do you need me to–”
“You tell us,” Yoongi rushed to say. “We don't have much time.”
He didn't have much time on his wedding day.
“Oh, in that case, I will have you lean against that balustrade. I will be taking the picture from the stairs to capture it better. Mr. Park could lean back, while Mr. Min sort of cages him in? What do you say?”
“Sure,” Yoongi shrugged and went to get into position, while Jimin was still awestruck by the ambiance. At least he was going to have a few beautiful pictures from his wedding day.
Jimin was a gracious omega; that no one could deny. He walked toward the balustrade with quiet grace, his dress shoes echoing softly against the marble floor. The cavernous grand hall opened around him as though he’d stepped into a painting.
Reaching the edge, he turned and leaned back against the cold stone railing, the chill of it meeting the warm curve of his back. His hands found the balustrade’s smooth top rail, fingers splayed, as if grounding himself in the stillness of his own heart. Above, statues watched from their perches, eternal. The coronation of a nonexistent love.
A heartbeat later, Yoongi followed. No words passed between them; none were needed. This was pure business. Business in eternal beauty. His eyes darted as he closed the distance, his dark suit a striking contrast to the pale serenity of the marble around them. He came to stand between the columns and the glow of the overhead light, casting a soft shadow over the younger.
He leaned in, one hand resting beside his on the balustrade, the other brushing his waist. No permission needed – he treated the ordeal like a job transaction. The air shifted, it got heavier and expectant.
Jimin stared into his eyes as he inched closer. He wasn't going to kiss him, right?
He didn't. He got close enough so their noses were almost touching, looking at the other's smooth skin through dark lashes.
“I got it!”
Jimin jumped in place, startled. Yoongi pulled away smoothly, running a hand through his perfectly combed black locks.
“Now let's move on to the staircase. We will take a closeup of your hands, Mr. Min, hand facing up, Mr. Park gently place yours on top. Needs to be delicate. Then I'll move away to take a shot from the bottom of the stairs – Mr. Park, you have to look back at Mr. Min, try to keep the lines delicate, as if you're pulling him along.”
They moved along quickly, but Jimin found out he had trouble calming down his heart whenever the alpha touched him or leaned too close. There was something about his scent that was getting to his head.
As they walked down the stairs and struck a few poses as instructed, the photographer, from the bottom of the stairs, asked for one more embrace.
Jimin wondered how many times Yoongi had rolled his eyes that day. It had to be in the hundreds for sure. He sighed and leaned closer, arms around the other's neck, while Yoongi held onto his waist.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered into Jimin’s ear. “I can't wait for this shit to be over.”
Jimin refused to answer, instead doing his job and then thanking the photographer once they were done. Yoongi disappeared into thin air shortly after, while Jimin opted to take a moment away from everyone.
He was glad to be found by his friends.
“Jiminie, you look gorgeous. Don't let anyone bring you down, okay? That stupid man is blind if he can't see what a blessing you are. Please, take care of yourself,” Hoseok mumbled, cupping the other's cheeks and shaking some sense into him.
Taehyung was jerking his head in agreement. “Yes, my baby. Maybe he will come around soon, living with you might soften him up a little.”
Jimin shook his head dejected. “No, you guys. You don't understand. He isn't – he refuses to talk to me, altogether. I don't know how we'll make it work.”
“Look, think of him as a housemate, okay? You just have to live with him,” Hoseok chirped up, leaning against a column.
Jimin’s chin dipped in agreement. “But Hobi, you know I am an affectionate person, it makes my mood go south when he doesn't even greet me when he comes home. I think I'll crash at you guys’ houses more days than not.”
“You know you're welcome anytime, Jiminie, but you have to find comfort in your own home.”
“I don't know if I can call it home yet, guys, I haven't assembled the bookshelf in my room yet-”
“What do you mean ‘your room’?”
“Well, he has a library but it's mostly full and I don't want to mess with his order, so I bought one to have in my own bedroom. The room is spacious so-”
“You don't sleep together?”
Jimin looked at them perplexed. “Have you been listening to me at all? Which part of what I've said made you think he'd want me in his bed?”
“The part where you're his husband?! Jiminie, you know you're expected to have babies at some point, right?”
Jimin froze for a moment. “I haven't thought that far ahead, Hobi, let me deal with the present-time problems.”
Taehyung gripped his arm, shaking him lightly. “Jimin, just get through today, okay? Maybe ask him to assemble the bookshelf? Who knows, he might be in a good mood. Alphas have a provider's instinct, don't they?”
“Not him, Tae. I might try,” he sighed. “I'll give it a try. He did refuse to eat my full-on Korean dinner, though, so my expectations are really low.”
“Oh, I'm gonna fuck him up! What do you mean he refused to eat it? Your cooking is delicious as fuck!”
Jimin snorted at his friend's reaction. He knew they loved his cooking. “Well, he didn't try it so he wouldn't know. You can come over for dinner on the weekend and I'll cook for you, my babies.”
“We are taking up on that offer immediately. Next weekend we will be there, in fact we can have a sleepover,” Taehyung was quick to add. “In all seriousness, we won't let you feel lonely, okay? You might not have a partner who is present all the time, but you are not alone. You are the most lovable and caring person I know, you have a lot of people who care for you so don't let him bring you down.”
“Easier said than done, Tae… but I will try my best. Thankfully, I have my work and I will fill my time with things and people that make me feel good,” he murmured, hugging his friends to brush off how emotional he was getting.
He had known Taehyung and Hoseok since he was in middle school so they were basically like his brothers. Though Taehyung was an alpha, he wasn't pretentious like the others and never made any advances romantically, so Jimin felt very lucky to have his friendship and protection at the same time.
People often assumed they were dating, given how protective they were of each other, but their bond was nothing like that. If anything, he felt more like a brother than a friend.
He had been a non-confrontational person for most of his life, so having someone stand up for him felt good. Though he no longer needed either of them to protect him, it still felt like they carried home with them. Wherever they were, it felt more like home than his own parents’ house ever did.
Hoseok was a beta, but growing up with these two, he understood all dynamics really well. He was emotionally intelligent, always lightening the mood with his bright smile and playful jokes, and endlessly caring. Without a doubt, he fit perfectly into the beta role, his protective and providing side perfectly balanced by his nurturing, caring nature.
They were such a well-balanced trio that Jimin often got emotional about that.
“Okay, guys, okay, I need to go back in. Don't want them to think I fled my own wedding. My dear husband might be capable of that, but I'm not.”
And so they went back into the venue, mingling with the others and tasting appetisers, until one after another, the guests slipped away, leaving behind a hush where chatter once echoed.
Jimin didn't catch a glimpse of his husband until the very end, when they had to greet the guests one by one, standing next to each other, while the younger pretended he was the happiest person alive, his husband maintaining his serious persona.
They drove home around mid-afternoon…
… and Jimin jumped the gun, because he hated the anticipation and overthinking process that came anytime he had to ask for help.
“I bought a bookshelf to put in my room. Do you mind assembling it for me? I'm not really used to doing that and I don't want to mess it up.” He was fidgeting into his seat as the mansion came into view.
He waited for a few seconds, which turned into a minute, then the engine was being turned off and a deafening silence surrounded him.
“Yoongi? Listen, I hate it when you do this. I haven't done anything wrong to you, at least don't ignore me like this.” He could barely hold his voice from breaking at the end.
“No, you listen. Act as if you're on your own, okay? I really don't want to be in this situation, but I was forced to, so the less you remind me of your presence, the better it will be.” Yoongi tossed him a bunch of keys.
“You've got the keys of the main doors and the key fob for the garage. You can put your car there.”
With that being said, he got out of the car and slammed the door, heading inside, leaving a perplexed omega to drown in his thoughts and to fill the car with the rotten smell of decaying flowers.