Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I need you to set me up with someone.” 

Jimin couldn’t believe he was at this point again. Déjà vu swept over him — smothering, sickening — but he didn’t know what else to do. That old dread — the thought of living his life alone, the fear of never falling in love and having the type of happy, secure relationship he’d always wanted — was back. He’d spent the whole night staring at the wall, berating himself for ever letting himself go there, even if it wasn’t a decision he’d consciously made.

“What?” Taehyung said, startled, almost dropping the boxes he was carrying. “Fuck, Min-ah, you scared me.”

Jimin stood by the front door, wringing his beanie tightly in his hands. He hadn’t even made it all the way into the store before he’d blurted out his request.

They were fully into Christmas season now, even though the holiday was still a month away. The store was packed to the rafters with products and gifts, and Taehyung had come in early on the weekend to get a head start on stocking the sales floor. Thankfully, they hadn't opened for the day yet — because Jimin had been contemplating this request ever since he’d left Jungkook the previous night, and he needed to talk to Taehyung about it now. Some conversations needed to happen in person, if only so that Taehyung could see Jimin was deadly serious. 

By morning he’d been sure it was the right decision — the only rational one, and Jimin couldn’t get to the store fast enough. He’d guzzled a coffee and suffered through a dry blueberry muffin on the subway, disregarding his diet once again — because what did it matter, when he’d been poisoning his body for all these weeks? A fucking muffin wasn’t going to put him in his grave.

“Jimin-ah— what’s going on? You haven’t asked me to set you up since— well, you know.” Taehyung gazed steadily into Jimin’s eyes, and Jimin flinched away. “Since you started eating ramen every week.”

“Don’t,” Jimin grumbled menacingly, hopefully shutting down that topic of conversation before it started. “Well, now I’m asking. You must know someone I haven’t gone on a blind date with yet.” 

Taehyung put down the boxes and contemplated Jimin for a moment, before turning away and staring thoughtfully through the window at the busy street, already busy with shoppers and tourists. “Well, there’s this new sales guy at the office. Pretty sure he’s single, and he seems great. Let me ask.” He eyed Jimin suspiciously. “Seriously, Min-ah, is everything ok? I thought—”

“Forget what you thought, Tae. You know what I want. I’m looking for something serious. You of all people should know that,” Jimin said with what he hoped sounded like certainty, heart pounding against the inside of his chest.

“It’s just—” 

Jimin avoided Taehyung’s piercing gaze. Taehyung was his best friend, the one person Jimin never hid anything from. But this was different. These damn feelings he was having were something to stuff into the darkest corner of his mind and never let see the light of day. This was something Jimin needed to hide from himself. 

“Jungkook and I are only friends,” Jimin said with as much certainty and finality he could muster. “There’s nothing going on between us, and there never will be.”

“Got it,” Taehyung said in a clipped voice and a little frown. “I’ll talk to Eunwoo and let you know.” 

“Yeah, ok. Thanks,” Jimin said, and even he could hear how unenthusiastic and pathetic he sounded.

In two quick strides Taehyung was across the store, pulling Jimin into a tight bear hug. “Minnie, I love you, and I’m right here, ok? If you want to talk, I’m all ears,” he said, rocking him back and forth like a baby. 

Jimin felt like a baby. Never had he felt so out of control and so in need of reassurance, but he couldn’t face the truth. He couldn’t talk about it, because then his whole facade would come crashing down, and then what?

It was time to let it go and move on, and Jimin would do what needed to be done to make that happen.

He mumbled into Taehyung’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

If he didn’t talk, then he wouldn’t have to confront anything — and that was better for everyone. 

🍜

“So, what do you like to do in your free time?”  

It felt so awkward being the one asking all of the questions. Jimin wasn’t used to it, found he didn’t like it very much, and felt just a twinge of remorse for his previous dates. 

Eunwoo, looking sleek and uninterested, ordered martini after martini and hardly even looked in Jimin’s direction. Was this what Jimin had looked like to all the guys he’d dated before? His stomach sank in recognition. Taehyung had been right all along — Jimin really hadn’t given it much effort.

It had been one delay after another trying to set up this date, and it was only with Taehyung’s encouragement that Jimin had even persisted. Jimin could tell that Taehyung still had reservations about his resumption of this whole blind date business, but he had always been Jimin’s biggest source of support, and that would never change. Taehyung hadn’t brought up Jungkook again, but Jimin knew he still questioned what exactly had gone down between him and Jimin. There was no hiding that best friend intuition — but Jimin hadn’t budged and stayed silent.

He’d thrown himself into his work in the weeks that had passed. It was easy to do when the store was as busy as it was, and the extra effort was sure to reflect in the year-end sales numbers — an added bonus for Jimin, who was always looking for a way to stand out from the crowd within the company. It had kept him too busy to think about much of anything else. But Christmas was coming, and the yearly dread of having no one to spend it with was upon him as well, so Jimin made the time to prioritize this blind date.

Jimin had texted Eunwoo numerous times trying to get him to settle on a time and place, with only lukewarm results — but after Taehyung had applied a little pressure from his end, Jimin had finally pinned Eunwoo down to a Saturday night the week before Christmas. 

It was a terrible time for Jimin to take a night off — the store was slammed with Christmas imminent and shoppers panicking. Even Taehyung had been working weeknights after his nine-to-five job to help them keep up. But tonight, Taehyung had waved off Jimin’s concerns about the staffing and the store, sending him off to his date with a kiss — and yelling a cheesy go get ‘em tiger from the doorway as a red-faced Jimin had disappeared into the holiday crowds. 

Jimin had decided to make a concerted effort this time, and that had begun with letting Eunwoo have control over when and where the date happened. He wanted him to feel comfortable, and to feel that Jimin was willing to be flexible and accommodating. It had occurred to Jimin that in the past he’d come off as demanding and inflexible with his list of things he refused to eat, and nights he wasn’t available because of work.

Taehyung is right, Jimin had told himself again as he showered and changed earlier. Standing in front of his closet thoughtfully, Jimin had finally pulled out the mint green silky button down that showed off his neck and collarbone just so, and favorite black pants that showed off his other assets. 

I am sabotaging my chances, Jimin had pondered as he’d carefully styled his hair up and off his forehead, applying light makeup to highlight his eyes and accentuate his lips. His essential heeled black boots and heavy silver accessories rounded out his outfit. 

I’ve never actually given anyone the opportunity to get to know me — the real me. That wasn’t something you could do over one date, he reminded himself.

Jimin had stood in front of his mirror for a long time, looking at himself from all angles, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. It had been a long time since he’d put this kind of effort into a blind date. 

After a passel of failures, Jimin had gotten so jaded that he would just throw on his standard date outfit and make sure he looked passable enough before leaving the house. His pessimism had apparently filtered through and colored everything about those previous dates. No wonder Jimin hadn’t seen potential in even one of those guys. It was all about mindset.

Tonight, he looked good and knew it. Jimin hoped it would bolster his confidence, because he had pinned a lot of his hopes into making this one work. Maybe Jimin had never had any luck before because he hadn’t fully committed himself to the process. 

He needed to be more realistic. Just because there wasn’t a spark right away didn’t mean it would never happen. He just needed to give a guy a chance.

The restaurant was one Eunwoo had picked — it was the exact opposite of somewhere Jimin would have chosen, but he’d gone in with a good attitude. The menu wasn’t extensive but the choice of entrees was intriguing, and the plates being served to nearby tables looked and smelled delicious. Jimin was relaxing his dietary restrictions tonight, and was even considering eating some of his strictly off limits foods. It was the direct result of Jungkook’s influence, no doubt — but Jimin stopped that thought dead in its tracks — it didn’t matter why. 

Jimin hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in three weeks — he wasn’t about to go down that road now.

As untalkative as Eunwoo was, Jimin stayed optimistic and kept trying — prattling on about his life and job, telling funny stories about things he and Taehyung had done in high school — anything to keep the conversation going. Eunwoo kept drinking and contributed the bare minimum to the conversation, which meant that Jimin had downed quite a few drinks himself trying to ease that nervous bubble in his stomach as all his attempts fell flat. Their food hadn’t even arrived yet, and Jimin was already out of things to talk about. What was he even supposed to say to someone unwilling to engage with him?

Waving the server over, Eunwoo ordered yet another martini, sighing once the woman had left.

“Listen, Jimin,” he said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “You seem like a really nice guy, and I really do like Taehyung — but in all honesty, I only agreed to do this as a favor to him.” Jimin clenched his jaw, knowing what was coming. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re just not my type,” Eunwoo drawled, bored, examining his fingernails. “Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal,” Jimin echoed vaguely with a slight shake of his head. “That’s my fucking line.” He barked out a short laugh— sharp, caustic. “You know what, that’s fine. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here anyway.” Standing abruptly, Jimin turned on his heel, ignoring Eunwoo’s half-hearted apologies, and walked straight out the door without so much as a glance back. 

He walked aimlessly for a few blocks, head down, blankly taking in the sights on the street. He passed by businesses lit up by blinking Christmas lights, with cheery winter songs playing on outdoor speakers trying to lure in shoppers. A couple of kids dashed by him, pink cheeked and laughing, turning the corner at the end of the block and disappearing as quickly as they’d come. An older couple, strolling hand in hand just ahead of him, entered a coffee shop. The smell of fresh pastries and the sound of happy conversation drifted out the door, making Jimin’s stomach grumble — and his heart ache.

Disheartened, Jimin dropped onto a set of concrete stairs at a side entrance of a building, pulling out his phone to arrange for a taxi. What a disaster, he thought. 

Is it me?  

Jimin had never lacked self-confidence per se — he knew he was intelligent, attractive, and could even be funny sometimes. He knew what he wanted and worked hard to get there — so what was it? There must be something wrong with him that he just couldn’t see. Being rejected time and time again — never clicking with the guys he dated, trying over and over again with no success — was eating away at his self-esteem.

No one wants you, the darkest part of Jimin whispered in his ear. No one will ever want you. You’ll spend the rest of your life alone . 

The cold seeped up from the hard concrete he was seated on, chilling him — reminding him. Reminding Jimin of the last time he’d sat on concrete like this — and the one person who always seemed to enjoy his company. The one person he’d sat with on a hard concrete wall and shared more than ramen and soju — they’d shared laughter, and little pieces of their lives, theri dreams. The one person with whom he’d endured ingesting chemicals Known to the State of California to Cause Cancer, and a frozen ass, just to see the way his face lit up. 

The one person who could light up a cold street corner with just his laughter and the stars in his eyes.

The one person Jimin had tried so hard to forget that he thought about him every night before he fell asleep.

The one person with whom Jimin had felt it — the spark.

Jimin stared down at the phone in his hand. He shouldn’t. He’d told himself repeatedly that it was better for both of them to cut things off cleanly. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t. 

But they were friends, right?

Jimin didn’t know how his intrusion tonight would be received — but he really needed to see a friendly face.

hey 

what are you doing right now 

Barely thirty seconds passed before Jimin heard back, and the breath he’d been holding came out as a sigh, as soft as the tiny flakes of snow that had begun falling from the sky.

nothing

why

are you hungry for ramen

suddenly

Jimin wasn’t craving ramen, but ramen was their thing. If Jungkook wanted to buy Jimin ramen, then Jimin was going to accept.

well i didn’t get to have dinner

so

yeah i guess so

There was no answer, which gave Jimin plenty of time to ruminate. He wondered if Jungkook was going to turn him down — not that he would blame him if he did. 

It was Saturday night, and he and Jungkook had only ever hung out on weeknights. Maybe there was a reason for that. There could be something, or someone, in Jungkook’s life that took up his weekends. It wasn’t that Jimin hadn’t considered that before, but when he was seeing Jungkook regularly, and had thought he had his feelings sorted out, it hadn’t mattered much.

Now it seemed much more pertinent.

Jungkook could be doing something fun with his friends right now — maybe they were watching movies, or out for dinner, or at a noraebang. Maybe they were planning to go out clubbing later. Maybe they did that often, and Jungkook found guys to go home with. A guy as attractive and sweet as Jungkook probably dated often. Maybe he had a boyfriend Jimin didn’t know about.  

A knot formed in Jimin’s stomach, winding itself tighter and tighter as each thought crossed his mind, but he angrily pushed those feelings away. He had zero importance or influence on Jungkook’s life. Jungkook could do anything he damn well pleased. 

Jimin didn’t want to be more than friends, anyway. That idea had been there only for the briefest of moments, but Jimin had banished it before he’d allowed it to take root.

Jungkook might blow him off tonight for any or all of those reasons — oh, and there was also the tiny little issue of the three weeks of radio silence on Jimin’s end. That Jimin would need to find a way to explain — and apologize for, whether Jungkook agreed to see him tonight or not.

Even when Jimin had let Jungkook’s texts go unanswered, even when yet another Wednesday had passed and he’d made no effort to reach out to Jungkook, even when the guilt had kept him up at night, Jimin had convinced himself it was the right thing to do. He should be focusing on his own goals, and Jungkook should be focusing on his. That was all there was to it.

Jimin had told himself he was doing it for the both of them, over and over, until it hurt a little less to ignore Jungkook’s attempts to talk to him. 

And now, here was Jimin hoping that Jungkook wouldn’t ignore Jimin’s attempts to talk to him.

Just when Jimin had given up, he got a response.

meet me at the usual place

i’ll be waiting

It wasn’t the happy, excited response that Jimin had been hoping for, but at least Jungkook hadn’t said no.

🍜

When the taxi pulled up in front of the CU convenience store, the first thing Jimin saw was Jungkook sitting in their regular spot, two cups of steaming ramen placed next to him. He looked up and gave Jimin a crisp nod when he slammed the car door behind him.

“Hey, weren’t you worried that the ramen would get cold before I got here?” Jimin asked, bounding up the steps to the patio. No point in going into this expecting the worst. He’d start upbeat, and follow Jungkook’s lead.

“Nah,” Jungkook said with a slight smile, but he extinguished quickly. “You always like your ramen lukewarm anyway.”

“I do not,” Jimin huffed. “I just don’t like to burn my tongue off like you.” He sat down, accepting the cup and chopsticks Jungkook passed to him. “Thanks.”

Jungkook was quiet, slowly spinning his chopsticks in the noodles, making no attempt to eat. He stared down into his cup, hair covering his face, and Jimin noticed it had faded to a soft lavender. Lavender, Jimin thought, just like the way he smells. Jimin shivered and looked away.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jimin asked, eyes trained on his ramen cup now. Jungkook was only wearing a hoodie in the late December air — the snow hadn’t built into anything more than flurries, but there was a steady wind. Jimin was wearing his wool pea coat and he could still feel the cold licking through the seams.

“No.” His voice was terse. It hardly sounded like Jungkook at all.

Jimin set down his ramen cup and snuck in a few glances. The tension radiated off of Jungkook — his body stiff, jaw sharp, eyes downcast. “Did I take you away from something?” Jimin asked tentatively. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

“I wasn’t doing anything. Just messing around with some art stuff.” Jungkook rubbed at the black ink staining his fingers absently, but wouldn’t look at him.

“Oh, ok.” Jimin struggled with what to say next, and Jungkook didn’t fill in the gap.

This is my fault, Jimin thought. This distance between them was one that Jimin had intentionally put there. Jimin had built this wall, and now he didn’t know how to breach it. Next to him, Jungkook was as still and silent as a stone. Jimin had imagined he might be upset — but this was far worse.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably only minutes, Jungkook finally spoke.

“You look… nice tonight,” he murmured without lifting his head. 

“Oh, thanks,” Jimin replied, utterly confused. That was not at all what he’d thought Jungkook might say, if he said anything at all.

“Were you out on a date?”

The question took Jimin as off guard as his previous statement. “Um, yes? But how did you—”

“A blind date?”

“Yes—”

Jungkook cut him off again. “You’re still going on blind dates,” he said a bit forcefully, startling Jimin. It was a statement, not a question. Jungkook took a long pull of a bottle of soju, and Jimin noticed there was another empty one beside him. “That’s where you were tonight.”

“Yes, I just said that. Jungkook-ah—”

“Just clarifying.” Jungkook jabbed his chopsticks into the cup and set it aside. “So how was it?”

“My date?” Jimin flinched when Jungkook flicked his eyes up to meet his, something dark and unspoken in them. “The guy was a prick,” he said, deciding that what Jungkook wanted, deserved from him was honesty. “I left.” Jungkook nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing. Jimin rushed to fill the silence. “I’m done now with all of that now, for good. I’m not gonna put myself through a hundred and one blind dates anymore.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Pretty sure I’ve heard that before,” he said, his tone short, clipped. “I’m surprised you didn’t call me to come rescue you.”

Jimin’s blood ran cold. It was time for him to do some damage control, because this was not going well. 

“Listen, Jungkook-ah, I’m sorry for not returning your texts. It was wrong of me not to explain—”

“Explain what, Jimin-ssi?” The fact that he didn’t use hyung stung. “Explain that you didn’t want to be my friend anymore? That you—” Jungkook stopped, jaw tight, briefly tilting his head toward the sky before dropping his chin to his chest, sighing in defeat. “You know what? Forget it. Forget I said anything.”  

“I do want to be your friend,” Jimin said so quietly he wasn’t sure Jungkook could hear him.

Jungkook scoffed. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I know,” Jimin said meekly. “I’m sorry.” When Jungkook didn’t respond, he murmured, “Jungkook-ah, I really am sorry. It might not look that way, but I am.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, resting his forehead against the frozen metal railing and closing his eyes.

Jimin almost said something more, but decided he’d said enough. Everything he said seemed to anger Jungkook. He was just making things worse. Jimin realized his mistake too late. Jimin had made his choice. He’d drawn his line in the sand, and he’d made sure he ruined whatever chance he might have had to keep Jungkook in his life in the process.

Why had he thought he could just drop into Jungkook’s life again as if the past three weeks hadn’t happened? 

He should go. 

As Jimin struggled to make some sort of excuse to leave, Jungkook spoke first. Jimin turned to Jungkook and snapped his mouth shut, bracing for the worst.

“Can I ask why?” Jungkook said, quieter, with none of the bristle he’d had when Jimin arrived. He lifted his eyes to meet Jimin’s, and all the air left Jimin’s lungs. “Tell me why you just… vanished. The truth.”

“I just—” Jimin hadn’t really had time to think about how to explain his actions — the furthest he’d gone down that path was the apology. “Jungkook-ah, I… I had this realization that we, um, want different things from life.”

“What— what the fuck does that even mean?”  

“We’re going in opposite directions,” Jimin said, desperately trying to believe in the words he was saying so he could make Jungkook believe them, too. “We want different things — I want to settle down here, in Seoul; and you want to chase your dream somewhere far away from here. You have friends, and a life, and a future to look forward to — you don’t need to be wasting your time with someone like me.”

Jungkook just stared at him for a minute, then shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus, Jimin. You talk like you’re some middle aged man.” He buried his head in his hands and growled a little in frustration. “First of all—” he thrust his index finger up and pointed it at Jimin, “you are making an awful lot of fucking assumptions about me — about what I need, and what I want,” he said. “Secondly—” the second finger joined the first, “so you’re saying that this desire you have to be the fuck away from me is only about me, and what you think I need? What about you — isn’t this about you, too?”

“Of course it’s about me,” Jimin retorted, feeling a little sick. “I don’t know what—”

Jungkook scoffed. “I asked for the truth, hyung.” Jimin was surprised to see tears welling in his eyes. All that anger was masquerading pain — because of course Jimin had hurt him. This was all his fault, and Jimin felt powerless to fix it. Things were too far gone. “I’ll ask you again. Why?” Jungkook took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Please, please don’t lie to me this time.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Jimin said faintly, hearing how weak he sounded, knowing that Jungkook could hear it, too. 

“Why can’t you stop lying to yourself, then?”

Jimin’s heart stuttered to a stop. “I’m not lying to myself, either.”

“You’re not?” Jungkook demanded. “As soon as I told you I might be working abroad, you suddenly cut me off because we, quote, want different things? That you don’t want to hold me back?” Jungkook stopped for a moment as someone came out the door of the convenience store, and it gave Jimin a moment to catch his breath. As soon as the person was gone, he rounded on Jimin again. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“But— Jungkook-ah, I can’t—” 

Can’t want this, can’t trust that you’ll stay — can’t trust myself not to want you to.

“You should—” Jimin felt himself crumpling under Jungkook’s gaze, the weight of his words breaking down the one wall Jimin didn’t want to come down. It’s the wrong fucking wall! Jimin yelled at himself in an irrational, hysterical rage. I just wanted to be friends again!  

I can’t have you — can’t let myself have you.  

Jimin covered his face with his arms, breathing heavily, willing himself not to cry. He couldn’t even face himself right now — how was he supposed to face Jungkook?

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook rushed out. “I’m sorry. I— fuck .” He scrubbed his hands over his face angrily. “I came on too strong. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, hyung.” He reached for Jimin but stopped himself just short, chewing on lower lip uncertainly. “Are you— are you ok?”

No, Jimin was certainly not ok, but he wasn’t going to admit that and make things worse.

“I’m fine, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin lied, attempting to pull himself together in the face of Jungkook’s remorse, even if it meant yet another lie. Jungkook resembled a sad puppy who had mistakenly chewed his master’s slipper — and Jimin just could not fucking help being endeared.

“I just have one more question, hyung,” Jungkook said carefully, his face earnest. “I’m really not trying to badger you, just—” he hesitated, mouth screwed up in the barest hint of amusement, “just challenge your thinking.” 

Jimin almost smiled at the reference to their first ramen date, in this exact spot, where Jungkook had called Jimin out on the kind of relationship he was looking for — the first time he’d turned Jimin’s life on its head. 

You never once mentioned love in that little wish list of yours.  

Jimin had never forgotten those words — or maybe he had. Maybe he had.

Jimin gulped. “Um, o-okay. Shoot.”

“How do you think people fall in love?”

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “What kind of question is that?” he demanded, feigning indignation, but his heart threatened to beat straight out of his chest.

Jungkook’s expression was serious now, his eyes never wavering from Jimin’s. “I’m genuinely asking. Have you ever even been in love?”

“That’s two questions.” Jimin turned away from Jungkook, feeling defensive. “If you must know, no. I’ve never been in love.”

“Me neither.”

Jimin crossed his arms. “So why are you making me feel bad about it, if you haven’t either?” he snapped.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said gently, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” He reached for Jimin’s hand, carefully, as if Jimin might lash out and bite, untucking it from his elbow and lacing their fingers together. Jungkook’s hand was icy, and Jimin could feel him trembling. “Hyung,” he began hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “Hyung, can I tell you how I think people fall in love?”

“I guess,” Jimin answered flippantly, but his heart skipped a beat at Jungkook’s touch, in a way it never had before. Their hands fit together perfectly. 

“First, there’s that spark. You know what I mean, right?” Jungkook waited until Jimin looked at him to continue. Jimin’s mouth went dry. 

“Just — how it feels when you can’t take your eyes off someone, and everything they do is captivating — how they hold a glass, or tuck their hair behind their ear, or rest their chin on their hand when they speak. How they light up a room when they smile, or how it feels when your eyes meet across a room. It starts like that,” Jungkook murmured, “and you chase that feeling, yeah?” He ran his thumb across the back of Jimin’s hand, and Jimin swore sparks flew. 

“It’s scary and uncertain — but you can’t help it, because it feels so good being around them.”

“People always call it a crush, but I don’t know, it’s never felt like that to me? It’s like floating, like being high,” Jungkook said wide-eyed. “Giddy, you know?” He tucked his feet underneath him and gripped Jimin’s hand more tightly. “But at some point what you feel for them becomes something more — reverential, I guess? More devoted.”

Jimin was riveted. He could not look away. Every glimmer in Jungkook’s eyes was a key, and Jimin could feel the locks around his heart thrown wide, one by one, until he was drowning — in hope, in fear — and yes, in doubt.

“How would you even know, if you’ve never been in love?” he challenged, but faintly, without any conviction. He dropped his eyes to their linked hands, as if there was an answer to be found at the spot their two bodies connected.

“I don’t,” Jungkook replied just as quietly. “These are only my own thoughts, how I imagine it would be.” He paused, bending to catch Jimin’s eye. “Will you let me finish?” 

Jimin swallowed thickly and nodded, words lost to him now.

“I think it’s risky — like holding something precious in your hands, like a bird’s egg, or a perfect rose. It’s something you want to keep near you and protect at all costs.” Eyes widening, Jungkook backpedaled quickly, explaining, “Not— not because the other person needs protecting, mind you, but because you want to be there with them, and they want to be there with you, and it all seems so fragile and beautiful, like blown glass — the kind that glows and is hotter than fire. Love that feels like too much, so much it hurts, and you’re afraid to make a misstep in case it all shatters.” Jungkook was staring off into the blackness of the night, reciting the words as if he’d thought of them, dreamt of them a thousand times before — speaking as if truly he believed them, as if he wanted Jimin to believe them.

“And once you feel that, once you feel like you can’t bear to be without this person, then you really fall — no matter if it makes sense or if it’s responsible or safe or any of the things you say to protect yourself from the pain you’re afraid of. Maybe it feels crazy, but it also feels like the best thing ever, and it sucks you in. You fall in love because it’s the only thing you can do. That's why they call it falling.”

“People fall out of love, too.” It was such a dumb thing for Jimin to say, he knew it was, but he needed more time, more room, more space so he could breathe, because Jungkook was still holding his hand and looking at him like that and Jimin knew it could only mean one thing. “How can you possibly know when it’s the right person?” he argued, trying to mask his distress by dismissing Jungkook’s words.

“You don’t. You don’t know,” Jungkook said with conviction, eyes shining. “You can’t choose someone to fall in love with, hyung. That’s the whole thing. That’s the secret to it all. Love chooses you.” 

Jimin’s head spun and as he shut his eyes, the whole world swirled around with him — and something shifted. Jimin felt something within him move.  

Summoning every ounce of courage he had, Jimin sought an answer. “Jungkook-ah. Are you— are you saying—” His fear — of a yes, of a no — stopped him in his tracks.

“Am I in love? No,” Jungkook said, smiling wryly — but with such kindness, such gentleness, it made Jimin want to cry. “But I think I could fall in love with you, Jimin-ah — if you’ll let me.”

And even though it felt very much less-than-safe and in fact was reckless, dangerous even, Jimin leaned in, his hands fisting Jungkook’s sweatshirt in a heady need to be close. Jungkook cupped Jimin’s cheek and pulled him close until their foreheads tipped together, Jungkook’s breath warm as it fanned across Jimin’s chilled skin.

“Hyung, tell me you want this,” Jungkook whispered, their lips separated only by force of will. “I need to hear you say it. I— I don’t want to— I won’t cross this line if you’re not sure.”

Jimin closed his eyes again and shoved everything away to see how it would feel to let himself have it, have everything he had been trying to deny himself, without remorse. He attempted to let go of the convictions he’d always held in front of him, like a shield in a desperate attempt to keep himself safe, to see how it felt without the weight of that anchoring force. Jimin watched as all his carefully crafted beliefs — about life, about love, about how he thought things should work — fell one after another like dominoes. 

It terrified Jimin. After all of it was gone, what was left was fear — but also a spark of hope, flickering faintly in the night. Hope that Jungkook was right, hope that Jimin had been wrong all along — that things could be different. 

“I want this, Jungkook-ah, I want you — I do, but I’m so scared.” Honesty, Jimin reminded himself. “I stopped talking to you because I was afraid.” Jimin squeezed his eyes shut. Why was it so hard to admit?

“Why are you afraid?” Jungkook asked gently, brushing Jimin’s hair off of his face. His eyes kept flicking to Jimin’s lips, betraying his desire — and Jimin wanted to just give in and finally kiss him. He wished he could pretend that none of the rest mattered — but it did. That fear would keep him up at night if they didn’t talk this out, here and now.

“Because someday you’ll leave, and I’ll be alone again,” Jimin said, his voice small. Saying those words aloud wounded him, made him feel weak. “I’m afraid of getting hurt.” Jimin swallowed. “By you.”  

“I would never hurt you on purpose, you know that, right?”

“But you will, because you’ll leave me,” Jimin said, pointing out the obvious. “It will hurt. It already hurts.”

“You don’t know that, hyung. You don’t know that I’ll leave. Neither of us do.”

“It feels too risky. How can I just— I don’t know, go into this not knowing?”

“We don’t actually know anything about what will happen in the future. Just being alive is a risk,” Jungkook said with a chuckle. “Do you remember when I first told you that?” He pointed toward the uppermost floor of the building. “That piano I warned you about could fall out of the window at any time.” 

That was so long ago, when he was someone different. Jimin liked to pretend that he was still the same person as before, that Jungkook hadn’t affected or changed him — but he had, and Jimin found he was glad. 

“I remember being really mad about ramen that night,” Jimin said with a smile, and his heart unclenched just a little at his feeble attempt at a joke. Jimin had eaten a lot of ramen since then. His fingers crept up Jungkook’s sweatshirt to tentatively play with the curly ends of Jungkook’s hair, twirling a lock around his finger. “I remember something else you said to me, too. On a different night.”

Jungkook laughed and squeezed Jimin’s hand, still intertwined in his. “What’s that?”

“I think it was, Make the best of today, let the future fall as it may. It was something cheesy anyway — and it rhymed,” Jimin teased, giggling into Jungkook’s shoulder. The laughter invigorated him, sending warm tingles all the way down to his toes — the beginning of a thaw that Jimin hoped, with any luck, would reach his heart. 

“I sound like a self-help guru,” Jungkook said with an amused snort. 

“Or a fortune cookie,” Jimin quipped, shrieking when Jungkook tickled him in retaliation. The happiness that shone in Jungkook’s eyes when he smiled at him made everything light, so light Jimin thought he might float away, just another snowflake fluttering on the breeze. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, hands restlessly running up and down Jimin’s arms. “Let me make you happy today, and tomorrow, and for however long we have together,” he pleaded, not even trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I can promise you that, at least. Is that enough? Is it enough for you to be happy right now?”  

Jimin was levitating somewhere above the city street, his heart soaring at the thought of saying yes and jumping in with both feet without another thought — but he’d never made a decision in his life he hadn’t looked at from all sides, and this was an important one. 

Jungkook wasn’t just talking about tonight. Jungkook was talking commitment, and Jimin needed to be sure. He refused to hurt Jungkook by promising something that in the light of day he wasn’t willing to follow through with. 

“You’re saying I should choose to be happy now, even if I know it’ll hurt in the end?” Jimin asked, hoping against hope that Jungkook had an answer.

“We don’t know the end. I don’t want you to go into this thinking about the end. That sorta sucks all the joy out of it, don’t you think?”

“If I say yes, it goes against everything I ever said I wanted. I think you already know that.”

“I know, hyung, I know that better than anyone,” Jungkook said. “Why do you think I never pushed you for more than a once-a-week ramen date? I knew you’d say no and run.” Jungkook delicately moved a lock of hair off of Jimin’s face as he searched for an answer in Jimin’s eyes. “I’m not one of those boring, steady nine-to-five job kinda dudes who wear loafers and khakis, with terrible hair and even worse taste in guys.”

Jimin tried to laugh but it came out as more of a drunken croak.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, “I don’t own a house, or a car. I don’t ever take the safe route or read every review before I make a purchase. On the other hand, I’m as loyal as a puppy and twice as cute.” He stuck his tongue out and panted, wiggling his butt a little as if he had a tail. “And hey, maybe I’ll win the lottery or something and live a life of leisure. You could become CEO of your whole company. I could open my own animation studio. You could develop a skin care cream that makes everyone’s skin perfect forever and make a zillion dollars. I could decide to travel the world and have no earthly possessions. Who knows? Anything could happen.”

“Who knows?” Jimin parrotted, playing along. “Do you even play the lottery?”

Jungkook beamed at Jimin’s question. He knew very well what it meant if Jimin had stopped debating every point. “Well no, but I would for you.”

“You’re annoying.” 

“And cute. You can say it. You’ve been thinking it ever since the first time you saw me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his smile. Jungkook’s happiness was infectious. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Or maybe I was wondering why they let someone like you in the front door.”

“Fair,” Jungkook said with a laugh, but his smile faded as he schooled his face into something more serious. He took both of Jimin’s hands in his, his expression earnest. “Listen, I want you to do what feels right. If you don’t want more than what we have now, or if you don’t care for me like that or don’t want to risk it — we can stay friends, or go our separate ways, or whatever. It’s up to you, hyung.” 

The snow began to fall again, and a momentary hush fell over the city, as if it was holding its breath for Jimin’s answer. It was so quiet that Jimin swore he heard Jungkook’s heartbeat. 

“But I want you, hyung. Fuck, I want this so much—” Jungkook murmured, his voice tight with emotion, “and I hope to god I’m right, and that you want me, too — because I’m out here putting my heart into your hands and hoping. Please. Please say I’m right.”

Hoping. Having hope was frightening — but at this moment, Jimin wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

“You’re right,” Jimin said, as breathless as the night around him. “You’re right about all of it.” 

Jimin was ready — ready to believe in a world where there was no sure thing, where safety and security couldn’t be picked out of a lineup of random dudes, where having someone to come home to didn’t have to mean a picket fence and a hefty mortgage. He'd wasted years of his life searching for that one perfect person who could fulfill all of those dreams — thinking stability and a future was something he could glean in a single blind date.

Finally, finally, Jimin understood — those ideals couldn’t exist at all unless he took a chance. Why hadn’t he seen it before? 

Long-term needed to start off with short-term, and the unknown of something new, something raw and tenuous. Commitment had to be built from a trust in something that felt risky. Settling down shouldn’t be his standard — that’s what should scare the crap out of him, because where was the fun in that?

The most exhilarating moments Jimin had ever experienced had happened hand-in-hand with the unconventional, witty, artistic, talented, thoughtful, beautiful man next to him — and wherever Jungkook was going, Jimin was along for the ride.

He was ready to believe in Jungkook’s words — to believe in Jungkook. 

“Jungkook, I’m sure. I want this. I want you, more than anything.”

He didn’t ask, or wait for permission, or do any of the polite and mannerly things you were supposed to do when you kissed someone for the first time — no, Jimin was done with worrying about his manners, and god knows they had done more than enough talking.  

Jimin dove in with a ferocity that had Jungkook tumbling backwards, bracing himself with an outstretched arm before they both toppled to the concrete. Their first kiss was an off-balance, imperfect meeting of lips, both of them laughing their way through it, but it felt right, and perfect. 

Jimin had imagined plenty of fairytale first kisses, and this one was nothing at all like that. Its highlights were the metal bar of the railing pressing into Jimin’s thigh, Jungkook bonking him with his frozen pink-tipped nose, and petal-soft lips smiling against his own. It was perfect.

Their second kiss was just as perfect, but in a whole different way. 

There were snowflakes in Jungkook’s hair and caught in his long lashes and they glittered like frost on a windowpane, but his eyes burned. Jimin melted under his touch, lost in the depths of Jungkook’s gaze, their spark lighting a fire within him. 

Jungkook’s hand trembled as it reached out to caress Jimin’s face, fingertips tracing the lines of his features reverently, as if committing them to memory. His lips brushed over Jimin’s cheek, the edge of his jaw, his lips — then captured them in a delicate kiss, his mouth tasting of soju and want. Jungkook took his time exploring his lips and Jimin let him lead — his hand slipped behind Jungkook’s neck and loosely tangled in his locks as his stomach somersaulted. This was what he’d been missing — this is what he’d wanted, all along. 

The slow glide of their mouths sped up, and Jimin opened his mouth eagerly when Jungkook’s tongue swept across his lips. He kissed Jimin deeply, unhurried, each movement long and languorous.

“I’ve dreamt of kissing your lips for ages,” Jungkook sighed when they broke apart. Jimin was breathless already, desperate to get closer to him but their sitting position made that pretty much impossible. “They’re just as soft as I imagined. Damn, hyung, I could kiss you for ages.”

“Jungkook-ah, can we—?” Jimin began, gesturing to where he sat, bumping his knee against the railing to make his point.

“Oh— oh,” Jungkook spluttered, shaking himself out of his daze with a laugh. He scrambled to his feet, holding his hand out to Jimin to help him up, then immediately pulled him in and attached their lips again, lifting Jimin clean off the ground as they kissed. 

Jimin giggled his way through it, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s neck and pressing his body close. He lost himself in the beauty of giving in to what he craved, as exhilarating as a skydiver leaping into the vastness of the open sky. No overthinking, no worrying about the future or intentions. Jungkook made Jimin feel, and it had been far too long since he’d felt much of anything. Who cared about risks? Not Jimin. Fuck everything. This felt too good, too right, for it to be a mistake.

As Jungkook set Jimin down, Jimin’s hand came up to cup Jungkook’s cheek. It was icy to the touch, something that had escaped his notice before. “Jungkookie,” he whispered against his lips, “You’re freezing.” Jimin pressed warm lips where his hand had been, and Jungkook shivered. You told me you were fine, liar.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jungkook said, slipping his hands under Jimin’s coat and wrapping his arms tightly around Jimin’s waist. “It’s much better now that I have you here,” and Jimin shivered in his hold. “You can keep me warm now.”

“Still, we should warm you up.” Jimin stepped away, slipping off his scarf and wrapping it tightly around Jungkook’s neck. He hummed unhappily. “That’s not enough.”

“I don’t care about being cold, I told you,” Jungkook said, winding the scarf back around Jimin, tucking it up to his chin. He slung an arm around Jimin’s waist and pulled him flush to his chest, pecking his lips. “But I have a better— well, a different idea.” Jungkook flashed him the cocky grin Jimin had grown so fond of as he slipped his frozen hands under Jimin’s shirt. “To get warm. If you’re up for it.” 

“I think I’d be up for anything you suggest right now,” he murmured. Jimin’s skin burned under Jungkook’s touch.

“Come back to my place then,” Jungkook whispered against Jimin’s ear, his voice thick with emotion. Jimin answered him with a kiss, heavy and sensuous, the final break from Jimin’s ideas of known and right. He was diving into the unknown, into risk, heady and desperate, and he didn’t fucking care anymore where they would end up. There would be no regrets come tomorrow morning.

They ran uphill, breathless and laughing, holding hands the whole way up. Jungkook weaved them through back streets and around curves until they stopped in front of an older apartment building with a few lights on in the windows above. There was no elevator, but the four floors up felt like nothing, even after the steep uphill run. The adrenaline pumping in Jimin’s veins felt better than any runner’s high — enhanced by a few stops along the way, too desperate to wait.

They made out like teenagers between floors, falling into each other’s arms on the landings. On the last stop their hands started to roam — a thigh between a leg, a thumb grazing a nipple, a mouth over a pulse point — before they snapped out of it, remembering they were but steps away from Jungkook's apartment where things could progress much more quickly. 

They crashed through the door together, Jungkook fumbling for the light switch even as Jimin unsuccessfully tried to pin him against the wall. “Noooo, get back here, who needs light?” Jimin protested, trying to restrain the whine of need in his voice. 

When Jungkook flicked it on, the glow from the lamp on the corner table showed a typical college kid apartment — sparse, a little untidy, but it wasn’t like Jungkook had been expecting company.

“This is it,” Jungkook said. “My humble abode. Sorry it’s not, um, nicer. Or cleaner.” He bit his lip and looked around, heaving a sigh of relief after a glance toward the shoe rack and closet. “Looks like my roommate’s gone already. He’s staying at his boyfriend's place, so it’s just me for tonight.” Jungkook searched Jimin’s face. “Or, I mean, us.” 

“No interruptions — perfect.” Jimin’s fingers wandered under the hem of Jungkook’s hoodie, barely suppressing his groan when he felt the toned muscles beneath it. The hint he’d seen of Jungkook’s body back in October, the exposed tattoos and arms meant to cause fear in Joe Seong, hadn’t led him astray. “Fuck, Jungkook-ah, you’re too much.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, pushing Jimin an arm’s length away with obvious difficulty. “Wait just a second.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

Jungkook took a deep breath. “You’re sure about this? We don’t have to do anything, you know. We could just hang out and talk.” Jungkook rubbed a reassuring hand over Jimin’s arm. “Or watch Naruto or something,” he added, straight faced, then laughed, placing a big, sloppy, happy kiss on Jimn’s cheek like an overly-affectionate puppy. “No pressure, none at all. I don’t want you to regret anything.” Jungkook pulled his hoodie off over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach as he did, and Jimin surged forward.

“I know what I want,” Jimin whispered huskily, his hands inching upward, pressing Jungkook against the wall. Desire shot like quicksilver through his veins — he’d never hungered for someone the way he did for Jungkook. Jimin wanted to devour him whole. “I want you. Now.”

The shudder that went through Jungkook at those words told Jimin all he needed to know. “You want this as much as I do. Jungkook-ah, the only thing I would regret is walking away from you right now. We’ve talked enough. You can explain the magic of Naruto to me some other time.” He stood on tiptoe, seeking Jungkook’s lips while dipping his hand into the back of Jungkook’s waistband. Cool fingers met hot skin, and Jimin could almost feel Jungkook melt at his touch. 

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook gasped, caving almost comically quickly. He peeled Jimin’s coat off and tossed it over the nearest piece of furniture. Jimin shuffled out of his shoes while Jungkook attempted to kick off his boots, losing his balance in the process and toppling over awkwardly, pulling Jimin on top of him. Jimin felt drunk, laughing with too much giddiness than what was necessary, but didn’t waste an opportunity. He climbed on top of Jungkook, reveling in just the feeling of getting to be close to him and giggling when Jungkook struggled to sit up.

“Hyung, get off,” Jungkook grunted, “ boots.” He attempted to reach for them but failed, flailing dramatically and collapsing spread eagle on the ground with a whine. Jimin relented, crawling down Jungkook’s body with a grin to unlace the boots himself.

“Don’t know why you thought you could kick these— oof, off,” Jimin grunted, falling backwards as the first one came off. “They’re laced halfway up your calves.”

“Desperate,” Jungkook said, chewing on his lip as he waited for Jimin. “Still desperate. Hurry.”

Jimin slowed down, slipping the laces slowly through the eyelets, grinning slyly at him. “Have someplace you have to be?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes in a silent challenge, then cocked his hip to the side and slapped his own ass. “Have someplace you want to be?”

That was enough to have Jimin ripping the last boot off, shoelaces be damned.  

Taking Jimin’s hands in his, Jungkook walked backwards through the apartment, leading him to what Jimin assumed was his bedroom. Jungkook’s back hit a door and he stopped, grinning down at Jimin with an arched eyebrow. “Last chance, I—”

“Shut up,” Jimin growled, silencing him with a kiss. He reached behind Jungkook to turn the knob, pitching both of them into the black room. “Oh shit,” Jimin giggled as they stumbled and almost ended up on the floor again. “We’re actually really bad at this.” Clumsy kisses missed their mark more often than not as they righted themselves, neither one willing to separate to make things move more quickly.

Bracing himself against the wall, Jungkook flicked a hidden switch, illuminating the room. It was lit in crooked swoops of tiny white lights hung along walls plastered in all different types and sizes of artwork — drawings and paintings in various stages of completion, some framed and others pinned up carelessly. They must be Jungkook’s, Jimin thought vaguely, but they flashed by in a woosh and were instantly put out of his mind as he and Jungkook launched themselves onto the unmade bed, flinging off most of what seemed like an exorbitant amount of pillows.

They rolled around, laughing into their kisses until Jimin straddled Jungkook and pinned him to the bed. They made out for a while longer, stripping off their shirts as their hands learned each other's bodies. Jimin paid close attention to the way Jungkook jolted as his tongue found an earlobe, as it dipped into the hollow of his clavicle, as it laved over the hard nub of his nipple. 

“So pretty,” Jimin murmured, diving in for another kiss and slotting his leg between Jungkook’s thighs. He groaned when he felt how hard Jungkook was already. 

Jungkook gasped at the pressure, fingernails digging into Jimin’s back, and wrapped a leg around Jimin’s hip, pulling him closer. His lips moved hungrily over every inch of Jimin’s skin they could reach, and he moaned lowly as Jimin ground down against him. “Hyung,” Jungkook sighed, arching his back as Jimin slid down his body to lick a stripe from navel to sternum, nipping at his collarbone before pulling back to meet Jungkook’s eyes, already hazy with lust.

Jimin grazed his thumbs over Jungkook’s nipples as he kissed his way up the column of his throat, humming in pleasure as he felt Jungkook jolt beneath him.

“Tell me what feels good,” Jimin murmured against Jungkook’s ear, his hand sliding between them to cup Jungkook over his pants. “What do you want, baby?”

Jungkook whined, tucking his head in the crook between Jimin’s neck and shoulder as he pushed up against Jimin’s hand. “Want you— want you to fuck me,” he panted, his breath hot against Jimin’s skin. “I’ve been dreaming of it, dreaming of you, hyung. Want you so bad.”

Jimin crashed his lips onto Jungkook’s, kissing him greedily, making up for all of the times he hadn’t allowed himself to want him, to want this. He’d wasted way too much time to take things slowly. He dragged his tongue along Jungkook’s lips and Jungkook’s mouth parted for him, open and willing — he kissed Jimin back just as fiercely, his hands searching for and finding Jimin’s cock, already hard and aching in his pants.  

They attempted to undress each other the rest of the way without breaking their kiss, which resulted in a lot of tangled clothing and laughter. Jimin finally kicked his pants off with a grunt and sat back on Jungkook’s thighs, firm and strong beneath him. He took a moment to appreciate Jungkook’s body spread out on the sheets — fully exposed in all his glory, his chest heaving, muscles taut in anticipation, eyes hooded and black. Waiting. Waiting for Jimin.

The dark ink on Jungkook’s upper arm curled over his shoulder, black on his honey skin that glowed faintly in the soft light. His hair, splayed out on a pillow of deep blue, shone like the faintest moonlight rippled on water.

Each muscle of his chest and abdomen was defined, but not in a bulky way — just strong, smooth lines, perfect for fingertips to travel, for tracing with his tongue. Jimin could clearly imagine how they would feel under his hands as he fucked him, the way the firm roundness of his ass would split for him. 

He took Jungkook’s cock into his hand, gripping it and running his thumb over the head. “Holy fuck, Jungkook, you’re magnificent. This is what you’ve been hiding from me all this time? You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

“Jimin-ah, hyung, need to ah— feel you,” Jungkook said, gasping as Jimin began lightly stroking his cock, not enough to go anywhere with it, just teasing. “Come closer— p-please,” he stuttered, his hips bucking up, hands reaching for Jimin. 

Keeping his hand on Jungkook’s cock, Jimin slid up his body, rolling Jungkook onto his side. Jungkook immediately threw his leg over Jimin’s hip and his arm around Jimin’s neck, attaching their lips messily, open mouthed, slippery tongues sliding against each other. “Lube,” he panted into Jimin’s mouth, free arm flinging backward and pointing to the nightstand, “in the drawer.” With a peck to his lips, Jimin crawled over Jungkook, finding the lube and a condom easily. He left kisses along Jungkook’s outstretched arm as he moved his way back slowly, dropping them in the tender spots — the center of his palm, the pulse point on his wrist, the crook of his elbow. Jimin dragged his tongue along his neck and up to Jungkook’ ear, sucking the earrings and lobe into his mouth. “Do you want me to prep you?” Jimin murmured, licking the shell as he continued to work his hand over Jungkook’s cock, leaking freely now.

Jungkook shuddered and shook his head. “I’ll prep myself,” he said, hands sliding from Jimin’s shoulders down to his nipples, rolling the hardened nubs between his fingers. Jimin dropped his head to Jungkook’s chest, moaning as Jungkook flicked at them, his fingernails rough against his tender skin. “Want you to suck me off while I do it,” Jungkook purred, giving his nipples a final tweak.

“Fuck,” Jimin mumbled dazedly, sitting up and scrubbing a hand across his face. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Yes,” Jungkook deadpanned, “that’s the plan.” He laid on his side, head propped on a hand, raising one knee, intently watching as Jimin settled between his legs and slid onto his stomach. Jimin dragged his lips over Jungkook’s inner thighs, sucking a bruise there as Jungkook moaned, sucking in a harsh breath as Jimin took the velvety head of his cock into his mouth. He suckled on it, swirling his tongue and pressing it into the slit while his hand pumping the base. 

Above him, Jimin first heard the sharp snap of the lube bottle, and then saw Jungkook reach behind him, his mouth falling open as he began fingering himself. His knees opened wider, and 

Jimin took Jungkook deeper into his mouth, savoring the weight of his cock on his tongue, the slight bitterness of his precome. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed with a little more rhythm, humming as Jungkook gasped, pretty moans falling from his lips as he opened himself quickly.

“Hyung, oh my god, your lips around me— fuck,” Jungkook croaked, and Jimin could see his movements quicken as he thrust his fingers in and out of his hole urgently. Jimin fixed his gaze on Jungkook’s face as his fingers teased at Jungkook’s nipple. “Your mouth— ah,” a tremor shook Jungkook, and he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, eyes rolling back. “Feels so good.”

Jimin mouthed down along the side of his cock and back up — then sliding his tongue lower, he mouthed over Jungkook’s balls, pressing a knuckle into his perineum, massaging it in circles. 

When Jungkook pushed a third finger in, Jimin couldn’t resist — he added his tongue to the mix, licking along the edge of Jungkook's stretched hole, dipping just the tip of his tongue inside, the fit tight alongside the fingers already filling him. Jungkook keened and arched his back, his free hand flying to snarl in Jimin’s hair, his breath coming in airy gasps. “Jimin,” he whimpered, “M’ready— fuck me now. I can’t wait anymore. Need you now.”

Jimin scrambled to his knees. “How do you want me?” he asked, running his hands up and down Jungkook’s thighs and pressing a kiss to his calf, his ankle. His breath hitched as Jungkook ran a finger through the precome leaking from Jimin’s cock and sucked it into his mouth, smirking.
“Wanna ride you,” Jungkook said, voice husky, a twinkle in his eye, “wanna put on a show for you.” Jimin choked, and Jungkook arched an eyebrow at him in amusement. 

“Yeah, ok, I’m not saying no to that.”

Jungkook swung himself over Jimin, nestling Jimin’s cock right into the crack of his ass and rotating his hips over it slowly, lower lip between his teeth. Jimin moaned, bucking up, his hands grasping Jungkook’s hips roughly. Jungkook bent down to capture Jimin’s lips, chuckling against his mouth. “Ready for me?”

“No,” Jimin replied honestly, because there was no way he was ready for this force of nature. Jungkook flung his hair behind him, his neck extended and throat exposed, and all Jimin could think of was wanting to mark his skin, wanting to bury himself deeply, wanting to burn the image of Jungkook outstretched and aching to ride his cock into his mind forever.

Jungkook sat back on his haunches and tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth, eyes locked on Jimin as he rolled it onto Jimin’s cock with exquisite slowness then lubed him up.

Positioning himself and reaching behind himself to grasp Jimin’s cock, he sank onto him slowly, mouth falling open. “Ohhh fuck,” Jungkook said with a strangled cry, “fuck, hyung, you’re so thick, I—”

Jimin's eyes rolled back and he moaned long and low as his cock was enveloped in Jungkook’s heat, as the tightness of his walls sucked him in. It took everything Jimin had not to buck up into him — he gripped Jungkook’s hand in an attempt to anchor himself, his breath caught in his throat. Jungkook began working his hips in a slow circle, adjusting to the stretch while he brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing Jimin’s knuckles. 

The sweet gesture reminded Jimin to breathe, and he finally found his words. “Jungkook-ah, you’re perfect, so perfect, fuck — you feel so good around me,” Jimin murmured, gasping as Jungkook’s hips continued their smooth roll. His free hand followed the curves of Jungkook’s body to knead his ass, pulling his cheek to the side so he could feel where his cock was nestled inside Jungkook’s hole, stretched and full.

Jungkook leaned over and pressed their chests together, placing open-mouthed kisses to Jimin’s neck, under his jaw, sliding up to his ear and drawling, “You like that? Like to feel how well your cock fills me?” Jimin stole a kiss before Jungkook retreated to his perch above Jimin, smirking. “Wanna see, too?”

Leaning back, Jungkook braced himself on Jimin’s calves and arched his back, his pink cock bouncing lightly as he began fucking himself onto Jimin. The view of his cock, sliding in and out of Jungkook from this angle, made electric heat shoot down Jimin’s spine and pool low in his stomach. He wondered how long he’d be able to hold out with Jungkook on display the way he was, his muscles flexing smoothly as he angled his body to give Jimin the best view possible.

“Ah, hyung,” Jungkook panted, falling forward onto his knees and bouncing with more urgency, the fingers of one hand wrapping around his cock and the other finding his nipple, rolling and pinching it between thumb and forefinger.

“Let me, baby, here,” Jimin said, pulling Jungkook’s hand away and replacing it with his own, twisting his fingers around the head of his cock with each stroke as Jungkook had been doing. Jungkook’s head dropped, chest flushed, his hair moving in waves as he continued to work his hips, whimpering each time Jimin bottomed out, the wet slap of skin-on-skin reverberating throughout the room.  

Jimin cupped Jungkook’s cheek with his free hand, brushing damp locks of hair off his face. “So pretty, baby — look so pretty like this, fucking yourself on my cock,” Jimin gasped, voice husky. “Hyung’s making you feel good?”

“Hyung, ah— m’close,” Jungkook mewled, falling forward onto his elbows as he began to lose his rhythm. “So close— fuck, m’not gonna last.”

Jimin gripped Jungkook’s hips and, planting his feet, began to fuck up into him, hard and fast, his orgasm building as Jungkook began to fall apart above him. Jungkook braced his hands on Jimin’s chest, moaning desperately as his cock, angry and red leaked pools onto Jimin’s abdomen. 

Moments before Jimin tipped over the edge, he angled his hips to hit Jungkook’s prostate dead on. Jungkook whined, clenched hard around Jimin’s cock, and came instantly with a guttural cry of Jimin’s name — his entire body shuddered as hot stripes of cum erupted from the tip of his cock, covering Jimin’s hand and chest. Seconds later, Jimin’s orgasm hit — blinding white and toe-curling, every nerve on fire as he pumped the condom full. He grunted as Jungkook collapsed, exhausted, on top of him. 

They lay like that for a while, Jungkook sprawled limply across Jimin as they caught their breaths. Jimin waited until Jungkook’s breath had evened out before carefully moving Jungkook’s hair away from his face so that he could see it, unsure if maybe he'd fallen straight asleep after the intensity of his orgasm. Jungkook’s eyes were still closed, but he had a blissed out smile plastered on his face, and he pressed a tiny kiss to Jimin’s chest in silent response. “Hey, baby, gotta pull out now, ‘k?” Jimin said tenderly, kissing the top of his head. 

“Baby, hmmm?” Jungkook mumbled, lifting his face to nuzzle his nose against Jimin’s throat before dropping a kiss there, his lips lingering. “Like it. Like being your baby,” he said against Jimin’s skin. Wrapping his arms loosely around Jimin’s neck, he stretched to capture Jimin’s lips with his own, humming in pleasure.

Your baby.  

“I’ll remember that,” Jimin said nonchalantly, but his heart skipped a beat. Your baby.

He rolled them over and pulled out gently, tying off the condom and tossing it in the general direction of the garbage can. “Let me find something to wash us up with.”

“I can—” Jungkook began and tried to sit up, but Jimin pushed him back with a forefinger to the chest. 

“Shush,” Jimin admonished. “Bathroom?”

“First door to the right,” Jungkook said, stretching languidly and nestling back into bed with a fond smile. “I feel so pampered.”

Jimin cleaned himself up and returned with a damp washcloth, taking special care to be gentle with Jungkook before tossing it into an open hamper and sliding his underwear back on.

“Pretty,” Jimin said, crawling back into bed with Jungkook, wrapping himself around him — warm, already familiar. He glanced up at the lights and back down to Jungkook, a finger tracing the lines of his face from temple to jaw, and dipping into the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. Jimin placed a careful kiss to the mole beneath them.

“Mmm— the lights, or me?” Jungkook asked, eyes closed, his hands sightlessly traveling Jimin’s spine.

“The lights are nice,” Jimin said softly, “but they don’t compare to you.” 

“I see we’ve already progressed to the cheesy part of our relationship,” Jungkook deadpanned with a wide grin, cracking one eye open. “One good fuck and you’ve lost all inhibitions.”

“Just stating facts,” Jimin said with a chuckle. “C’mon, you have a mirror. You must know how good you look.”

“Me?” Jungkook asked. “You’re one to talk, hyung,” he said, locking his gaze with Jimin’s. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. No, seriously,” he insisted when Jimin shook his head in protest. Jungkook kissed his lips in assurance — he kissed Jimin with none of the trepidation of their first kisses, and none of the urgency of the ones after that. It was guided by emotion, and trust, and the hope they’d set themselves to.

“I can’t believe I had the nerve to do what I did that first night we met — it was some impulsive moment of insanity on my part, or something,” Jungkook wondered as he pulled away, ducking his head in disbelief.

“You’re not the only one who thought you were insane that night—” Jimin burst into giggles, “—and I felt a little crazy myself. I can’t believe I let you drag me out of that restaurant. What if you’d been an axe murderer or something?”

“Would an axe murderer be this cute?” Jungkook asked. Jimin swatted his bare chest playfully, and Jungkook cried out in exaggerated pain. “When I talked to you my brain literally short-circuited. I didn’t know how to handle it. You’re so intimidating, hyung. Mesmerizing,” he said, bringing Jimin’s hand to his lips. “I probably made a fool of myself.”

“Me? Intimidating?” Jimin asked with a laugh. “Tell that to Tae-yah. I’m sick of him bullying me.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Jungkook said, rolling on his back, eyes far away. “I can’t wait to meet everyone you’ve talked about.” Jimin had a surge of butterflies in his stomach. They were really doing this. “But really — you made me so nervous, hyung.”

Jimin’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “But Jungkook-ah— you were so bold, so confident — you were winking and flirting with me the whole time we were at the restaurant. How exactly is that nervous?” 

Jungkook looked away shyly, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Ah, yeah— well, sometimes I overdo it a bit when I’m feeling anxious. I overcompensate, I mean,” he said with a self-conscious laugh. “Especially when I’m really attracted to someone. Don’t know when to stop, you know.”

“You were attracted to me, hmmm?” Jimin said coyly, laying his head on Jungkook’s chest. “Tell me more.”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you, hyung,” Jungkook said. “I was so rude to my date, I don’t think I heard a word he said.” He laughed and pressed a kiss into Jimin’s hair. “At first, I thought maybe you were having dinner with your brother or something, because I couldn’t figure out why you’d be with a guy like that otherwise. But then he put his hand on yours — and I saw your reaction. I just— I didn’t want you to be with a guy like that, that made you uncomfortable and was too oblivious to see that you weren’t interested in him, like, at all.”

“At all,” Jimin repeated for emphasis. 

“I wanted you to be with me instead.”

“Wanted me all to yourself, huh? Before you’d even spoken to me?” Jimin tried to play off Jungkook’s compliment by being bold, but he felt his stomach swoop. “You really did steal me away, then. And here I thought I’d had a choice in the matter.”

“I was a goner from the get-go.”

“Sounds pretty desperate to me.”

Jungkook grinned crookedly. “You’re the one who called me first, remember.”

“You’re the one who put your contact in my phone without my consent,” Jimin reminded him, fingers tracing the tattoos that trailed down to Jungkook’s chest. And thank god you did, he thought.

“It’s a good thing, huh?” Jungkook said, mirroring Jimin’s thoughts.

“That’s for sure.” Jimin paused, wondering if he should admit to it. “Um— actually, I have a confession.” 

“Oh?” Jungkook tilted his head, taking a good look at Jimin’s face. “What’s that?”

Jimin could feel himself turning red. “I used to look at your contact picture all the time.”

“I knew it!” Jungkook said, shooting straight up, his arms wrapping around Jimin reflexively to prevent him from toppling off the bed. “But… used to?”

“Ok, I still do,” Jimin huffed, embarrassed. “And the one we took together that one night.” Might as well cop to it all.

“We can take a lot more pictures like that,” Jungkook said, wrapping his arms around Jimin and flipping them. “Put ‘em on social media, make all our friends jealous at how clingy we are.” He leaned in and kissed Jimin gently. “If you want that.”

Jimin gazed around the room, at the beautiful and fantastical art that covered the walls, the school books stashed under Jungkook’s desk, the yellow sweater Jimin loved so much hanging over a chair — they already held memories for him, and Jimin wondered just how many other details in this room would soon become important in his life. Even if all Jimin had in the end were memories, he wanted them. Wanted to see where the future would take each of them — together, or separately. Happiness — at being unafraid to see what the future might hold, at the excitement of new discoveries, at being held in Jungkook’s arms — felt good.

“Yeah,” Jimin whispered, his heart falling into rhythm with Jungkook’s heartbeat. “Jungkookie, I want it all.”

🍜

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“Please tell me this is not where you’re taking me for your celebratory dinner. Please.”

They were standing in front of the restaurant, and Jimin was scowling. “I am not eating in there ever again.”

Jungkook tried to pull off a look that he hoped came off as heartbroken, but Jimin was not about to be fooled. After eight months together, he knew better than to trust his boyfriend’s pout.

“What, you don’t like your surprise?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, arms crossed. The evening was still blistering hot, and sweat dripped between his shoulder blades. “This isn’t my surprise dinner — it’s supposed to be yours. Jungkookie, I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me plan something. Everyone wants to celebrate with you, you know.”

“I know, but what we’re celebrating feels like something that belongs to us, not just me.” Jungkook hugged him and ran his knuckles up and down Jimin’s spine, then pulled back to gaze at him. “You know what I mean.” 

Jimin did. It was the greatest gift he’d ever received.

Things had moved quickly after Jimin had finally stopped denying his feelings for Jungkook. They hadn’t wanted to waste the precious time they had together — at least the time they could count on — so three months ago Jungkook had said adios to his roommate and moved in with Jimin.

Yoongi, as usual, had expressed his misgivings at the speed they were moving, ever the pragmatist — but Taehyung had silenced him with one of his trademark death glares that even Yoongi was afraid to defy. Taehyung had immediately volunteered both of them to help with what little Jungkook had to pack up and move.

It was definitely different for Jimin to have another person — another, slightly messier, person — sharing his space. So far, Jungkook hadn’t managed to kill any of his plants, had proved to be a much better cook than Jimin was — and was willing to make Jimin his favorite healthy meals with even more culinary flair. 

After the first two weeks had passed, Jimin had cheekily informed Jungkook that his probationary period had passed, and he’d decided to keep him on after all. When Jungkook had asked for a raise, Jimin had swatted at him, reminding him about all the special benefits that he’d been given — then made sure he wouldn’t forget it by fucking him like they were on limited time — which they were. At the time.

It had been months since they’d been in this neighborhood, but everything looked exactly like it had the last time Jimin had seen it. 

“Ok, then, if we’re here, and we’re not going in, then what—” Jimin stopped, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook’s smirk. “Oh no, tell me we’re not—” 

Jungkook took Jimin’s hand and pulled him down the block, laughing in glee at Jimin’s shock. “Just you wait.”

Jimin knew every crack on this stretch of sidewalk, knew the two spots where the curb was broken near the corner, knew the slightly tipped steps that led up to the CU convenience store by heart. He’d walked it many times before they’d gotten together — and after, when he’d trek from the subway stop to Jungkook’s apartment before he’d moved — but there hadn’t been a reason to return since then. But now they’d come back — and it felt a little like coming full circle.

Maybe the convenience store and the street it sat on looked the same, but there was something very different going on once they stepped up to the patio.

“What’s this?” Jimin asked, coming to a stop.

One of the metal tables had been straightened and the umbrella above it, while still faded and frayed on one edge, was standing for once. Covering the table was a checked table cloth that for some reason looked suspiciously like one that belonged to Taehyung’s picnic kit. In the center of the table cloth was a candle that was identical to one that sat next to Taehyung’s bathtub, for when Yoongi took his bubble baths.

Jimin glanced back at Jungkook who was hovering by the stairs. “You had help,” Jimin said, pointing his finger at him and walking forward until it was poking Jungkook in the chest.

“I called in some favors, yes,” Jungkook said. He pressed a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Wait right here, hyung.”

He entered the convenience store and after a moment came back out with a huge bouquet — deep magenta peonies and dark purple irises,accented with bright daisies — almost the exact bouquet from the first night they’d met. Jungkook bowed low and held them out to Jimin. “For you, my liege.”

“Jeon Jungkook-ah,” Jimin complained and stomped his foot, which made Jungkook laugh. “I’m the one who should be buying you flowers. This is your night!”

“Quiet now,” Jungkook said, pecking his lips. He pulled a chair out that looked like it might topple over, nodding for Jimin to sit. Jimin leveled him with a skeptical look. “Don’t worry hyung, it won’t collapse or something,” Jungkook said with a laugh, sitting in it himself in illustration.

Jimin finally sat — Jungkook pushed in his chair gallantly, but with a grating screech, and they both fell over in giggles. “Not exactly romantic,” Jimin said, pressing his hand to his lips to stop himself from smiling as Jungkook took a seat across from him, trying equally as hard to keep his composure. The table was so small their knees touched underneath it. Jungkook just sat and stared at him. 

“So?” Jimin asked, puzzled. “What now?”

Jungkook made no move, just smiled at Jimin like the Cheshire Cat. “We wait.”

“Wait for what?” Jimin asked, and right then the door of the convenience store opened.

Taehyung, wearing a blue apron — Jungkook’s blue apron — carried a plastic tray to the table, two cups of steaming ramen and two pairs of wooden chopsticks upon it. He set a cup and chopsticks down in front of each of them, pulling napkins from his apron pocket with a flourish and placing them at the table as well.

“Tae-yah, what are you—” Jimin’s question died on his lips as Yoongi appeared behind him like magic, feigning annoyance, bearing two bottles of soju and little plastic cups. “Yoongi hyung, you’re here too?”

Taehyung wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for helping me, love.”

After a beat, Yoongi responded. “Anything for Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said, his eyes softly meeting Jimin’s, then added, “and for our Jungkookie,” turning to face him with a smile. “Congratulations, both of you.”

Tears unexpectedly welled in Jimin’s eyes. He searched out Jungkook’s face, and saw his emotions mirrored there. ‘Thank you,” Jimin whispered, afraid his voice would break if he spoke more loudly.

“Ok, bye kids, have fun! Be home by curfew,” Taehyung said enthusiastically, tugging Yoongi away. “See you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow?” Jimin asked, turning from the quickly retreating forms of his friends to look at Jungkook. “What’s tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow is when we’re getting together with everyone to celebrate. Tonight’s just for us.”

Cup ramen had never tasted as sweet as it did when eaten by candlelight with his boyfriend, Jimin thought to himself, as they did their best to ignore the stares from people coming in and out of the convenience store. A couple of teenagers even had the nerve to mock them — but as soon as they were out of hearing range, Jimin and Jungkook burst into laughter. If only those kids knew how much a dirty street corner could mean to two people who’d fallen in love in this exact spot.

“Tell me all about your first day,” Jimin said once they’d made it halfway through their bottles of soju. “What’s it like? How’s your boss? Your coworkers? Do you have your own desk? Did you get to do any real work, or did they make you watch dumb orientation videos or something?”

Jungkook put his hand over Jimin’s and knocked their shoes together under the table. “How about I answer those one at a time? And no, no orientation videos.” His tongue poked out to fiddle with his lip ring as he thought. “Namjoon is just as cool as I thought he’d be. Real mellow, laid back — he’s really into the artistic expression side of things, so everything from the open design workspace, to the green landscaped roofed, to the free organic healthy snacks that only people into rabbit food like you would like—”

Jimin kicked him under the table.

“Ow,” Jungkook whined, but grinned at being able to get Jimin’s goat so easily. “Anyway, Rkive is the epitome of thinking outside the box, I guess you could say. The building is big and bright, with people working everywhere. Some were on laptops, some at desks or other tables or workstations with various art materials. Some people were talking and working together, and some were off in their own corners, doing their own thing. It was so inspiring.”

“That’s so great, baby — that’s everything you were hoping for, right?”

“It’s way more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Just before graduation, Jungkook had been offered a job at a studio in the United States. Jimin had braced himself ahead of time for the inevitability, but at the last second, Jungkook had put off making a final decision. The pay he’d been offered was so low that he hesitated to make the trans-oceanic move, unsure that it would pay off in the long term. 

Jungkook and Jimin both had known he would start off on the low end of the totem pole, pay-wise and position-wise, but maybe not quite so low. The moving costs alone would have cost a fortune, and he’d start off his career in debt — adding to the debt he was already carrying from his student loans.

One of Jungkook’s professors had mentioned to him that based on the strength of Jungkook's portfolio and natural talent in illustration, he might be a good fit for a new start up — an animation studio just getting off the ground in Seoul. The focus of the company was on traditional animation, with the long term goal of producing hand drawn feature-length films in South Korea, bucking the current industry standard of using CGI animation. 

Jungkook was skeptical, but took the phone number anyway — he was willing to explore any option available to him, especially if it meant he could stay in Seoul with Jimin. 

Right from the beginning, Jungkook had been impressed by the founder of the studio, Kim Namjoon, and his vision. He’d allowed Jungkook to see some of the projects they were in the process of developing at Rkive, and some examples of the work Jungkook might be expected to produce if he worked for their team. It hadn’t felt like just an interview, Jungkook had explained to Jimin at the time — it felt like he was being recruited. It was so unlike the experiences he’d had applying for jobs up until that point, where he’d had to beg for the opportunity to have someone just look at his portfolio. 

Namjoon had loved Jungkook’s previous work and his emphasis on traditional art and illustration — and Jungkook had loved everything about the idea of working for Rkive. The type of work they were doing, where the studio was headed, the pay range of the position he’d applied for — the fact that he could stay. All of it seemed like the perfect fit for him.

Two weeks later he’d received an offer, and Jungkook had jumped at it.

“This is all because of you, you know.” Jungkook reached for Jimin’s hand and caressed it between his own, spinning his ring — the one that matched his own, promise rings they’d bought before they’d known Jungkook would be staying. 

“Stop it — I had nothing at all to do with it,” Jimin said. “You got that job because you’re fucking talented — and they’re damn lucky to have you.”

Jungkook shook his head, his face serious. “Hyung, it’s only because of you that I hesitated to jump at that first offer. I would’ve had no reason to want to explore other options — I would have missed out on this amazing opportunity.” Jungkook kissed Jimin’s knuckles. “If it weren’t for you, I would be gone already.”

A lump formed in Jimin’s throat. “So what you’re saying is that you only stayed for me,” Jimin teased, hoping the sassiness hid the emotion threatening to spill over. 

“I did. I stayed for you,” Jungkook said. Jimin searched his eyes, and there was no hint of a joke there, only sincerity, only love. 

Jimin was so, so grateful — and while on his worst days he still wasn’t sure he deserved so much happiness, Jungkook was right there to remind Jimin that he was. Jungkook was right there to make sure that every day Jimin spent with him was happier than the day before. On his best days, Jimin thought that maybe the longer they stayed together, the happier and happier his days would get — infinitely so, if what Jungkook told him was true.

“I love you, Jimin-ah. I’m so glad I’m staying here with you. I’m right where I’m meant to be.”

Jimin covered his face with his hands, because now he really was going to cry. “You were the one who told me to trust that the future would unfold the way it was meant to,” Jimin said. “I guess you were always meant to swoop in like a knight in shining armor to save me from the evil dragon, Dude — whisking me away to your castle to live happily ever after.”

“Your castle,” Jungkook corrected, and Jimin smiled through his tears.

“If it’s my castle, why are your dirty dishes in my sink?”

“If it's your castle, why do I have a key, and my name on the mailbox?” 

“Because I’m holding you hostage against your will. Because I never want you to leave,” Jimin said, wiping his eyes pointlessly as tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “Because you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I’m your hostage,” Jungkook said, cheeky, and smug, and all of those annoying, endearing traits that Jimin loved so much. “Hyung, I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Jimin took a deep breath and propped his chin on his hand, smiling at Jungkook tenderly. “Who knew I’d end up falling in love over a cup of fucking ramen?”

“I did.” Jungkook shrugged. “It’s full of fairy stuff and magic, after all. It can slay dragons.”

“Jungkook-ah, I love you so much,” Jimin said, leaning across the table, and pulled Jungkook toward him with a hand curled around the back of his neck. Jimin kissed him, deeply, passionately — kissed him the way he knew would make Jungkook weak in the knees and putty in his hands, even earning a few whoops from passersby. “Let’s get the fuck out of here — I’ve eaten enough ramen for a lifetime.”