"you okay? you've been looking tired lately." jimin eyed yoongi skeptically, because he kept saying he was fine and it definitely didn't seem that way.

"don't know. almost."

"and what's that supposed to mean?"

"i want to be okay, but i don't think i am."

jimin rested his chin on yoongi's shoulder, scooting closer to him.

"you always smell like cigarettes and paper," jimin said. "it's kind of nice."

"does paper even smell like anything?"

"it does now."

yoongi laughed as he pulled out a cigarette.

he lit it the way he had done countless times before and breathed in, then breathed out.

"are you really planning on killing yourself someday?" jimin asked.

smoke rose up past his pale, blue lips.

"maybe."

***

"let's watch a movie together."

"at the theater?"

"no, at my place."

yoongi wrapped his pale fingers around jimin's forearm and pulled him off the rooftop and down the stairs until they were at the door of his apartment.

they made a small bowl of popcorn and grabbed two cokes, then sat down on the navy blue couch in front of the tv.

"you're so out of nowhere sometimes," jimin smiled. "it's cute."

"mhmm," yoongi mumbled, pulling out another cigarette. "cause cute people definitely smoke half a pack of marlboro a day."

jimin nearly bolted upright. "do you really smoke that much?"

yoongi shrugged indifferently.

"how are you not dead yet?" jimin got a handful of popcorn. "your lungs are probably covered in black ash shit."

"great, my lungs look like my soul."

"you're not actually fucking serious, right?"

yoongi clicked his tongue instead of giving a real answer.

"asshole."

"i literally just heard you curse three times in twenty seconds," yoongi said. "that's once every, like, 6.67 seconds. and that's a fucking lot." (a/n: i actually went and calculated that)

"cool, i talk like min yoongi now."

he earned himself four slaps to the shoulder and a handful of popcorn to his face with the comment.