The curve of your smile should've told me how you felt about me

It’s different from the other times they danced together. There’s no heavy bass, no languid rhythm excusing their proximity and contact. It’s just them, a gentle ballad, Hoseok’s arms wrapped around Jimin’s back, and his own hands wrapped around his waist, the two of them carefully moving around on the balcony.

It’s different from their usual parties, mingling with others, Jimin thinks, seeing the sky turn golden. He can smell Hoseok’s perfume, spicy and with a hint of fresh lemon, mingling with the scent of his body, and Jimin knows he’s got it bad when the scent of his cold sweat doesn’t turn him off but makes him curious, makes him want to map him out, wants to lick his way up his throat and suck on the spot between neck and ear.

It’s different from what he’s used to, because desire weaves itself with longing, with the innocent wish to have this moment last forever, to stay in his embrace, head tucked against his shoulder, maybe even kiss. Kissing would be nice. Jimin’s sure Hoseok’s a good kisser. He’s a good dancer, this fact alone holds so many promises.