Chapter Text
The dance showcase is like nothing Jungkook has ever seen. He’s watched Jimin dance before, of course, when Hoseok drags them all out to perform silly shit on the streets for extra cash, or back in high school when Jungkook still thought of Jimin mainly as Jihyun’s older brother, but not like this.
As it turns out, Jimin is pure magic.
It’s impossible to look away from him; impossible to watch anyone else when Jimin is on the stage. He moves gracefully, sensually. It’s as if he is suspended in time, floating across the stage, like the rules of gravity don’t apply to him. Jungkook films the whole thing, already planning how he will manipulate the colors and add a filter or two in order to soften the light, make Jimin look like the angelic demon he is. He wants Jimin to see it. He wants Jimin to see how amazing he is. He also wants something for Jimin to send home to his dad and brother, to show them how hard he has worked.
By the time the showcase ends, Jungkook feels antsy, practically buzzing in his seat, ready to see Jimin up close, to swoop in with compliments and flowers and maybe even a sneaky kiss. To see Jimin smile up at him, still high on adrenaline and success. Clamping a hand around Taehyung and Yoongi’s wrists, he manhandles their entire posse out into the lobby, weaving a way through the crowd until they make it to the stage door. Yoongi complains loudly the whole time, halfheartedly trying to jerk his hand out of Jungkook’s grasp, but Jungkook can tell it’s all for show.
Hoseok comes out first, met with a burst of applause. He laughs shyly, waving to a classmate before making his way to their little group. Immediately, Yoongi tugs him in for a hug, throwing all pretense of apathy aside. Jungkook can’t catch the exact words, but Yoongi whispers something that makes Hoseok’s ears go bright red, startling a laugh out of him. Seokjin hands him the sunflowers they had collectively picked out for their sunshine friend. Hoseok looks supremely pleased, tearing up a little at the sentiment.
Another round of applause and Jungkook looks up to find Jimin trotting towards them, already smiling. Jungkook moves forward on instinct, meeting him half way until he can catch Jimin around the waist and pull him into a tight hug. Burying his nose in Jimin’s soft hair, Jungkook breathes him in. In this moment, he feels incredibly lucky just to know Jimin, to be able to watch him dance and to hold him close and shower him in compliments. “That was amazing. You were amazing. Jimin-hyung, I—” Jungkook starts, but then Jimin is ripped away, tangled up in Taehyung’s long arms with Seokjin crowding in for his own hug. Everyone clambers for Jimin’s attention just as they always do, rushing to give him compliments just to see him light up. Jungkook watches from the sidelines.
“Let’s celebrate, shall we?” Namjoon yells over the hubbub and everyone cheers. “I think we need some soju and beer!”
Jungkook is drunk again. He can tell he’s drunk because the room is spinning and he’s got Jimin tucked in tight against his chest, nuzzling at his neck, something sober-Jungkook would never do in public. But Jimin is so soft, so warm and giggly and… and… and good, drunk-Jungkook can’t seem to let go.
He’s got his eyes closed now, chin resting on Jimin’s shoulder, content just listening to Jimin’s lilting voice, smiling whenever Jimin laughs his squeaky laugh… but then the world spins, Jimin slipping from his grasp once more. Only Hoseok’s steady hand on his shirt keeps Jungkook from tumbling over. Weirdly bereft, he watches as Taehyung drags Jimin away to the punching bag machine, the two of them leaning against each other and chatting animatedly. Jimin tosses his head back with a laugh, stumbling into Taehyung’s hold and Jungkook can’t watch anymore.
The arcade is full of sound, full of color and movement and life. Jungkook winds up taking refuge in one of the quieter corners, surveying everything from a safe distance.
Something yellow catches his eye. It’s a teddy bear, maybe a hair bigger than the size of his splayed hand. It may be a teddy bear, but in his mind he sees Jimin. Perhaps it’s the sunny yellow color or the soft looking fur, maybe its cute button nose, but whatever the reason, Jungkook needs to have it.
For Jimin. He needs it for Jimin.
With hands on his hips and a special brand of false bravado, Jungkook stalks up to the man behind the counter and slams down a handful of arcade tickets. The worker looks a little shocked but recovers quickly, handing Jungkook a pink gun and rattling off a string of instructions Jungkook doesn’t bother listening to. Lining up the gun’s barrel with the target proves difficult when his world is still spinning, alcohol doing him no favors. Fuck it, he thinks, and pulls the trigger. Bang, goes the little gun, the bullet careening off to who-knows-where. Three more chances. Annoyed, Jungkook shakes his head to clear it, taking aim once more. Bang! Again, the bullet misses the target, bouncing off the rim. Two more bangs in quick succession and Jungkook is out of bullets.
Ripping off another handful of tickets, he slides them across the counter to the worker, their eyes locked. “Again,” he whispers.
In the end, it takes Jungkook four rounds and all but two of his tickets to win the little yellow bear. But it will be worth it, he tells himself as he treks back across the arcade, for the look on Jimin’s face….
That is, until he sees Jimin throw ball after ball into a hoop while Taehyung jumps and shouts next to him, his personal cheerleader. Once the final ball swishes into the net, Jimin gives the worker one of his million watt smiles, pointing smugly to the prize he wants. It’s a teddy bear, nearly the size of Jimin himself.
Jungkook looks down at the little yellow bear clutched tight in his fist. All of a sudden it seems like nothing, worthless next to the big bear Jimin won all on his own.
Before either Jimin or Taehyung can catch sight of him, Jungkook turns on his heel and heads straight back to his quiet corner. This time he locks himself in the karaoke room, a safe haven far away from any of his nosy friends.
3. SEOKJIN:
If anyone asks, Seokjin absolutely wiped the floor with Hoseok’s ass during every single round of Tekken. “I won without even losing a match,” he informs Yoongi, who did not, in fact, ask. Yoongi doesn’t look impressed enough, too busy patching up Hoseok’s bruised pride with crude jokes and funny faces to entertain his best hyung’s ego, so Seokjin leaves to find someone who will properly appreciate his video game genius.
Taehyung and Jimin look too busy punching things to listen, which rules them out. Seokjin is about to hunt for Namjoon in the bathroom when he spots the back of Jungkook’s jacket swaying in the karaoke room. That’ll do.
The door creaks a little when he opens it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear, too caught up in whatever ballad he is singing. It’s beautiful. Jungkook has always had a nice voice, but this is raw and almost mournful. Seokjin stills to listen.
“When the awaited beam of dawn comes
Within my room that is larger than yesterday
On my illuminated window
I write and erase – ‘I love you’…”
The music dies away, Jungkook already furiously typing a new song into the computer, but at the sound of Seokjin clearing his throat, he whips around, eyes suspiciously glassy. “Hyung, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, rubbing at his nose.
“Why are you singing Kim Kwangseok? You’re too young for Kim Kwangseok,” Seokjin says, pointedly ignoring the question as he grabs for the controller. “Let’s do something more upbeat.”
Frowning, Jungkook tugs the controller back and continues typing his own song. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at the audacity but lets it slide. They’re all a little tipsy and the maknae has been moody lately. “I want to sing Park Hyoshin,” Jungkook sniffs.
Seokjin throws his hands up in mock surrender and grabs the other mic off the stand. It turns out Jungkook has a whole repertoire of old, depressing ballads that he whips out one after the other. It’s almost impressive, but by the third IU song, Seokjin has to put his foot down.
“Jungkook-ah, what’s wrong? This is getting ridiculous.” Seokjin rubs his throat, half concerned that his voice will be gone in the morning after all this emotional belting.
Jungkook turns on him with big, sad, puppy dog eyes, sniffing a little. “I’m fine, Hyung,” he says, looking all together very not-fine.
“Clearly not,” Seokjin says dryly. Staring Jungkook down, Seokjin pulls out all his hyung powers, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his rather impressive shoulders. “Don’t make me wheedle it out of you, because we both know there is only one way this will end.” He raises his hands to tickle position, fingers wiggling threateningly. It’s supposed to be funny, but Jungkook looks closer and closer to crying with every second.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, staring holes in the ugly carpet. “Why isn’t Jiminie-hyung over Boram-noona?”
“Of course he is, Kook,” Seokjin says, a little dumbfounded at the change in topic. “They broke up a long time ago.”
“No he’s not, Hyung,” Jungkook insists. His brows furrow like they do when he tries to solve a math problem or remember how to spell a long word. If Jungkook really is trying to figure out Park Jimin, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder than some quadratic equation. “He still loves Boram-noona and probably Seulgi-noona and soon he is going to love Minji-noona. He loves everybody but me.”
And that just hits Seokjin out of left field because… really? Are they talking about the same Park Jimin? The same one who goes on an on about how ‘our Jungkookie is so handsome’ and ‘Jungkook-ah is the best at sports’ and ‘Jungkookie learns so fast’ whenever anyone will spare five seconds to listen? Sometimes Seokjin thinks Jimin loves Jungkook more than even Jungkook’s own brother. Baffled, Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “That’s not true and you know it,” he says sternly.
But Jungkook still doesn’t look convinced, his eyes wide, almost pleading. Concerned, Seokjin drags him over to sit on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his shoulders. “When Jiminie is in love, he… well he’s all in, 100%. He gives everything to that person, his whole heart. So he has to be very, very sure they’ll take care of it, you know? But the thing is, he hasn’t been so good at choosing people to give his heart to. They’ve… they haven’t been careful with the gift he’s given them. They hurt him.”
“I’d be so careful, Hyung. I’d never walk away from him,” Jungkook slurs, face so serious, so sincere.
“I know you wouldn’t, Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin reassures him.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Jungkook shoot back up to his feet, pacing the tiny room. “No, Hyung. I don’t think you do. I don’t think any of you do. You all see me as a little kid still, but I—fuck, Hyung…” He takes a ragged breath, his hands ruffling his hair until it sticks up in odd tufts. Seokjin watches on in dismay. “I’m so in love with him,” Jungkook whispers, staring at his clenched fists like he’s having some kind of epiphany. And that… well that takes Seokjin a moment to process because that’s not where he anticipated this conversation going but Jungkook plows on. “I always want to kiss him. Even in the moment right after we kiss, the moments where we have to do stupid shit like breath, all I want to do is pull him back in and kiss him again, over and over and over until he understands how fucking precious he is. He’s everything to me. Everything. And I wanna be everything he needs, everything to him. But I’m not. I’m not, Hyung. Why aren’t I? Why doesn’t he love me like I love him?” Jungkook’s voice breaks, hoarse from the tears now streaming down his cheeks.
Oh. Oh, Seokjin thinks, still in shock. So it’s that kind of love. That kind of heartbreak.
He’s always said he pitied the fool who fell in love with Jimin.
Looks like Jungkook is the fool.
“Jungkookie, why don’t you come home with Hyung, hmm?”
Fuck, Jimin is ruthless and he doesn’t even know it.
Jungkook turns around slowly, prolonging the moment until he has to look at Jimin. Even though he checked in the mirror five minutes ago, his eyes still feel red and puffy from crying on Seokjin’s shoulder. He feels so vulnerable, like Jimin will see every emotion as clear as if it were tattooed across Jungkook’s forehead. I want to kiss you. I’d give anything to be with you. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
Before Jungkook even has a chance to decline, Jimin cuts in again. “Hoseok-hyung is going out to the clubs with Yoongi-hyung to celebrate more but I don’t wanna.” He yawns, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide. Like a kitten, Jungkook’s useless brain supplies. “I’m sleepy, Jungkookie,” he confesses, as if the yawn didn’t give it away.
And Jungkook can read between the lines. At least when it comes to Jimin. Hoseok going out with Yoongi means Jimin will be all alone in his apartment, left to the mercies of empty spaces and silence, which, in Jimin’s eyes, is a cruel fate. He probably just wants someone to fill the space Hoseok usually occupies, maybe someone to hold him close as he comes down from the euphoria of a successful performance. So who better than Jungkook who never says no?
It’s almost pathetic, really, when Jungkook says, “Okay, Hyung. Whatever you want.”
He avoids Seokjin’s knowing eyes as he lets Jimin pull him from the arcade.
“Want another beer, Jungkookie?”
“No, Hyung. I’m fine, thanks.”
Shrugging, Jimin opens the fridge—he’s always been the better drinker between the two of them—but as he leans down to grab a Cass, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath, hands flying to the small of his back. “Ouch, shit, I think I pulled a muscle.”
After that, Jungkook somehow finds himself volunteering to run a bath for Jimin to ease those sore muscles. In return, he gets the most beautiful smile and a “thank you, Jungkookie”. Worth it.
Once the tub is full, Jungkook trails his fingers through the water to check the temperature. It’s almost boiling hot, but that’s the way Jimin likes it—‘hot enough to cook a man’, he likes to say. Rummaging in the cupboard, Jungkook finds some bath bombs left over from a gag-gift Yoongi gave Hoseok a while ago. They smell like warm cinnamon, orange and almond. Soothing. He pops two in for good measure.
“You’re the best, Jungkookie. You take care of your hyungs so well.”
Jungkook whips around at the sound of Jimin’s voice, startled from his reverie. He stands there in the doorframe, naked as the day he was born, and god, he’s gorgeous. After all, Jimin’s got a body like a porn star but a face like an angel and sometimes Jungkook thinks that’s just not fair for the rest of the human race.
Wandering over, Jimin hums appreciatively at the nice smell. He dips a toe in to test the water, now a cloudy orange from the bath bomb. “It’s hot! You remembered,” he says, beaming at Jungkook as if Jungkook doesn’t remember every little thing he’s ever learned about Park Jimin.
“It’s a bath. It’s supposed to be hot,” Jungkook counters, a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jimin knowing just how much Jungkook knows about him.
Jimin rolls his eyes but steps in any way, gingerly sliding down until the water laps at his collarbones, totally relaxed. He looks cute like this, soft and young as he brings his knees up to his chest and swirls the water around with his fingers. Leaning his cheek on one knee, Jimin looks up at Jungkook expectantly.
Taking that as his cue to leave, Jungkook grabs a towel from the rack and places it within reach of the tub. But as he turns to walk out the door, something catches at the leg of his pants. The thing is forceful, dragging him back until his knees hit the side of the tub. “What the—” is all he gets out before he loses balance and falls ass first into the hot bath, jeans and all.
Sputtering, Jungkook flails around, soaking wet and completely disoriented until he hears the peals of Jimin’s squeaky laughter. “Oh god, your face!” Jimin wheezes out, doubled over in hysterics. He slaps the side of the tub.
Things start to piece together. “Why did you pull me in, you asshole?!” Jungkook splashes a wave of water at Jimin, but it only serves to make him laugh harder. Grumbling some more, Jungkook pulls himself up, trying to get out of the tub when a small hand darts out and grabs him by his t-shirt.
“Because you were leaving me,” Jimin says, suddenly serious. The laughter still lingers in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a pouty frown. “I wanted to take a bath with you, Jungkookie.” He tugs at the hem of Jungkook’s t-shirt. “Won’t you stay?”
A bath? Together? It sounds entirely… perfect and domestic and boyfriends and shit… that hurts a little. Sometimes Jungkook wonders if Jimin would still act the same way if he were to know how much Jungkook loves him, if he would continue to smile and cling or give Jungkook space to get over it. The thought of Jimin leaving him, if only for his own good, is enough to have Jungkook silently shucking off his own clothes, letting them land with a wet plop on the tile floor.
Jimin smiles at him again, scooting backwards to make room between his legs. Slowly, Jungkook settles back against Jimin’s chest until he is surrounded by warmth—warm water, warm hyung. Strong arms wrap around his chest with a comforting squeeze. Finally Jungkook lets himself relax as Jimin combs gentle fingers through his hair and hums aimless little tunes.
They stay that way for a long time, wrapped around each other. Jimin kisses up Jungkook’s neck, bites playfully at his earlobe, so they make out for a while, lazy and unhurried, just enjoying each other’s bodies, but it doesn’t go further than that. Everything feels soft and kind of hazy. They stay like that until the water goes cold and their skin prunes up. Jungkook feels tingly for the rest of the night.