Archive of Our Own

“Yoongi-hyung, you’d better get the door.”

“Why don’t you get the door?”

“It’s been almost three hours since you last moved. I don’t like cuddling with a rock.”

Jungkook smiles absently at the bickering. He is sprawled out on the floor in a rather uncomfortable position, one leg draped over a chair and the other tucked awkwardly beneath him, but he doesn’t feel like moving either. It’s Jimin who finally bounces up, making his way over to the door. Of course it is.

Jimin, in all his grace and kindness, decides to step on Jungkook’s stomach with a gleeful little giggle, his hair going from its normal ashy blonde to a mischievous orange before he yanks the door open. Jungkook grunts as all the air whooshes out of him, but still refuses to move. “Namjoon-hyung! I thought you would never get here! We really need help taking the table apart so we can get it out the door.”

With a fondly exasperated sigh, Namjoon ruffles Jimin’s hair, changing it to a soft, happy pink as they smile at each other. Something a little bitter twists in Jungkook’s stomach and he has to turn away. Everyone loves Jimin. Jungkook knows that. But not everyone loves Jimin the way Jungkook loves him.

“Where is the table? Also, more importantly, where is the food you promised me as payment for the table?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes from where he is perched upside down on the couch, legs sprawled over Yoongi’s lap. “It’s the one in the dining room. The Ikea one. It’s not like you’ll have to do much—just walk in there and it will probably fall apart. It’s a piece of shit; that’s why we’re getting rid of it.”

Yoongi pats Hoseok’s leg like he thinks Hoseok has done a good job being snarky. Everyone else looks at Namjoon expectantly.

Namjoon sighs again, this time not quite as fondly. “Fine then, you ungrateful vultures.”

And, just as Hoseok predicted, the table collapses as soon as Namjoon walks into the dining room. Jungkook winces at the sound of splintering wood and the plinks of flying screws hitting tile.

“Don’t scratch my floors!” Seokjin yells. “And don’t touch anything else!”

A pained groan comes from the dining room as the only reply. Hoseok frowns, his glow dimming a bit. “I hope he didn’t just get impaled by a shard of wood again. Blood is so messy.” He raises his voice a little to be heard. “You okay, Joon-ah?”

“Why couldn’t my Gift be putting things together instead of taking them apart? I would get hurt a lot less,” Namjoon grumbles as he makes his way back out into the living room, a new purple bruise already smarting on his arm.

And there it is again.

Jimin with his changing hair color, Hoseok and his sunshine glow, Taehyung with his ability to make anybody his friend. The way Yoongi turns into an actual stone statue when overly exhausted or sedentary for too long. How Seokjin can fit an absurd amount of things in his mouth. And though it’s usually more harmful than helpful, Jungkook is even jealous of Namjoon and his Gift of destruction, the way things just fall apart in his presence. At least they all have something that makes them unique, something to call their own.

Because everyone in the world has a Gift, a special power unique to them. Everyone, that is, except for Jeon Jungkook.

Namjoon looks guilty, realizing what he has just said. “Sorry, Jungkook-ah. I didn’t mean to complain.”

“It’s fine, Hyung,” Jungkook mutters, but it’s not really. Not when Jungkook can feel this gaping whole in his chest where his power should be. Not when he feels so lost and inadequate without a Gift to direct his life.

People with Gifts have everything all figured out. Hoseok is going into botany because plants can photosynthesize his light, Taehyung has a blossoming career in acting because he already charmed half the industry and Seokjin has a massive online following that watch his eating broadcasts with morbid fascination. It’s only logical.

But what does Jungkook have? Absolutely nothing.

Plopping down beside Jungkook, Jimin frowns fiercely. “Try to be more sensitive, Hyung. Jungkookie doesn’t need to hear you complaining.” Cuddling close, Jimin practically smothers him with affection. Softly, just for Jungkook, he whispers, “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re so special, Jungkook-ah, just the way you are.” Jimin always knows exactly what he needs, even if he can be a bit overprotective. He is also the only one who truly seems to understand and sympathize when Jungkook feels bad about being Gift-less.

Jungkook swears he sometimes forgets Jimin even has a Gift, his colorful hair the same as the way he wrinkles his nose or wiggles his toes. Just another Jimin thing. It makes life easier for Jungkook too because Jimin has always been so easy to read, his hair a blaring signal for his mood swings. Red for anger, pink for happiness, blue for melancholy and an alarming shade of neon for when Jungkook really needs to run for cover.

Maybe that’s why they get along so well—because being with Jimin doesn’t feel like being behind. Jungkook loves Jimin and he loves Jimin’s harmless Gift.

Today is the day. Jungkook swears today is the day. He may have also said that yesterday and the day before, but today is really, really the day.

The day he asks Park Jimin to be his boyfriend… or something. He doesn’t have all the words and titles figured out, but these feelings have been building for far too long and it’s damn well time he did something about it.

Jungkook adjusts the volume on his speakers, making sure the special confession playlist he curated just for this moment is queued up. It’s as he resorts to fidgeting with the bass balance that the doorbell rings.

Fuck.

“Jeon Jungkookie!” Jimin sings from the hallway. “I know you’re in there!”

Double fuck.

Pull it together, Jungkook reprimands himself. It’s not like this is anything new, like they don’t hang out together one on one all the time. It’s just that now Jungkook has the daunting task of confessing hanging over his head like a storm cloud and Jimin is painfully oblivious.

With a deep breath, Jungkook opens the door.

And there he is… Park Jimin in all his glory. He’s kind of drowning in an oversized sweater—one that looks suspiciously similar to the sweater Jungkook’s mom bought him for Christmas last year—and his cheeks are rosy from the evening chill. His hair is Jungkook’s favorite color on him—the pretty gold of contentment. Jimin looks up through his lashes, but the effect is ruined when he reaches out and punches Jungkook’s arm. Hard. “Don’t take so long answering the door, you goof.”

Yeah, Park Jimin is no angel, but damn it all if Jungkook isn’t so, so fond of him.

Jimin beelines for the gaming console, probably assuming they will spend the night fighting over who has to use the janky X-Box controller, but Jungkook knows if he doesn’t get this off his chest now, he never will. “Hyung, wait.” Jimin turns with a raised eyebrow.

His pulse starts racing, all fits and starts. Sweaty palms and stuttered words are just a minute away—he can feel it closing in. Better hurry before it’s too late and Jimin notices what an absolute mess he is.

“There are… a lot of adjectives that could describe you...” Like beautiful and amazing and lovable. Jungkook winces. This all sounded better in his head.

“Yeah, that’s what adjectives tend to do…” Jimin frowns, probably thinking Jungkook is pulling his leg. This isn’t—God, this isn’t how it was supposed to go. Jungkook was supposed to sweep Jimin off his feet with suave romance and red-hot charisma.

Fuck it. He’s just gonna say it. He’s just gonna confess. Right here. Right now.

“Hyung, I—“

Banging from the door, sharp and loud, interrupts him. Jimin turns immediately like he’s got a sixth sense, already frowning. “Sorry, Jungkookie. I think I should get that.”

With barely a couple steps, Jimin covers the span of the tiny apartment and throws open the door. It’s Taehyung. He looks wrecked, all red eyes and snotty nose and shuddery breaths like he is barely holding himself together. Big, fat, end-of-the-world tears stream down his cheeks, hanging off the tip of his chin before becoming stains on the carpet where they stand. Without a word, he lurches forward, collapsing into Jimin’s arms with a terrible, sniveling sob. “He didn’t—“ Taehyung hiccups. “He doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Jimin’s hands come up immediately, petting Taehyung’s head and rubbing his back in tiny circles. “Come on, TaeTae. Just come inside, okay?”

They stumble to the couch together, a mess of limbs and tears. Jimin gets Taehyung settled so they’re wrapped around each other, sharing heat and comfort, before running fingers through his hair and wiping away some of the slick and slobber. Cooing a bit, Jimin drops a kiss on Taehyung’s temple, snuggling him a bit closer.

Still plastered to his spot in the middle of the room, Jungkook rubs his hands awkwardly against the back of his neck, so unsure. Comforting people isn’t exactly his forte, and Taehyung hasn’t even acknowledged his presence yet, even though he has to have noticed Jungkook standing around like an idiot.

Jimin and Taehyung are a twofer, buy one get one half off kind of deal. Cradle to grave and all that, even though they didn’t meet until university. They have this weird soul-bond thing going on that Jungkook has been jealous of more than once, often communicating in half-formed sentences and eye contact so no one else could understand. Right now, they seem cocooned in their own little world. Taehyung makes a small wounded sound from somewhere deep in his chest. It’s a sound so vulnerable, so broken that Jungkook feels like he is intruding on something intimate and private just watching them. Taehyung curls in closer where he is tucked against Jimin’s side, nose buried against his neck.

“I need you to tell me what happened, Taehyung-ah. What exactly did he say?” Jimin’s voice is soft, almost singsong as he speaks into Taehyung’s hair. “Maybe it’s not what you think. Remember the thing with Yoongi-hyung all those years ago? Remember how you misunderstood? Just tell me, huh? Come on.”

With a shuddery breath, Taehyung tries to collect himself. “He… he said that I’m weird and loud and picky and confusing and…and…and probably going to hell.” Jimin sucks in a sharp breath.

Finally, Jungkook feels things click into place. It must have been one of those friends. One of Taehyung’s Gift friends, as Namjoon calls them.

Taehyung’s Gift is an odd one, one that Jungkook’s never fully understood. He makes friends with an ease and grace that is almost incomprehensible to someone with as much social anxiety as Jungkook. People seem to flock to him, and pretty soon they are laughing and chatting and smiling together, all buddy buddy. It’s fascinating, beautiful almost.

When Jungkook first met Taehyung, he had been unimaginably jealous. Not only did Taehyung have an incredible Gift, but he also had a charming, boyish grin, people skills to rival any socialite and a whole army of friends at his beck and call. Literally everything Jungkook wanted and didn’t have.

That streak of jealousy came crashing down pretty quick when Jimin explained to him in a stilted whisper the dark side of Taehyung’s Gift. See, as quickly as Taehyung makes friends, he also looses them. The relationships are unpredictable, coming and going randomly. Fleeting. Sometimes months, sometimes momentary. But they always end; everyone leaves him eventually. Everyone, that is, except their small friendship group. Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jungkook and, most importantly, Jimin. In Jungkook’s darker, more jealous moments, he wonders if he actually likes Taehyung at all or if it’s just a manipulation.

But if Jungkook had to guess, he’d say Taehyung is crying about Park Bogum tonight. Bogum was another of Taehyung’s Gift friends, but he never seemed to snap out of it the way other people did. They had been friends for almost a year now, and Taehyung had started to talk excitedly about Bogum being a forever thing, just like the rest of their group.

Apparently not.

The sound of his name has Jungkook snapping back to attention. Jimin is looking at him, eyes hard to read from where his face is buried in Taehyung’s hair. “I think you should go.” It stings a little, but Jungkook understands. This isn’t his place even though they are all in his apartment. He’ll take Taehyung out for arcade games and barbeque to get his mind off it once things settle down, but it’s Jimin he needs right now.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Hyung.” A short pause. “I hope you feel better, Taehyung-hyung. He’s an idiot for saying those things.”

Jungkook lets himself out the door quietly, planning to go take up residence in the library, but not before he hears Taehyung crying again and babbling nonsensically. “Why couldn’t you just take it, Jiminie? Please, please, I’m begging you—just take it! I swear I don’t want it anymore.”

A few days later, and the whole crews comes together to get Taehyung’s mind off his friend-break up. The usual remedy is greasy food and being rowdy, so they head to their favorite spot in the heart of Yeouido for a night of cheese and spit balls. Jungkook is pretty sure all the waitresses would hate them if they weren’t so entertained by the antics, but as things stand, they’re mostly met with fond exasperation and a shake of the head when someone goes too far.

Jungkook has squeezed himself in between Jimin and Seokjin, dodging Yoongi’s arm around his neck and Namjoon’s jostling. This has two perks: one, he gets to pester Seokjin mercilessly and two, Jimin rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder every time he laughs and it’s a little bit like heaven.

They are in the middle of arguing over the semantics of Show Me the Money, when Namjoon shushes them, pointing at his ears and then the little T.V. in the corner.

“Again, all citizens are advised to stay inside. The magnitude of the situation is still unclear, but we can assume major lines of communication have been tampered with. Emergency alert systems seem to have failed. Destruction in several neighborhoods of Seoul is severe, including popular student areas in Seodaemun-gu.” Everyone’s attention is locked in on the T.V. No one breathes. “The rogue Gifted has an electricity Gift of undefined proportions. He has already burned through the Chinese cities of Changchun and Shenyang before appearing in Pyongyang, North Korea and finally Seoul. It is currently unclear how he covers so much ground in so little time, but he is assumed to be working with a Gifted teleporter. His current location at the time of transmission is in the area surrounding Mapo Station. Again, we urge all citizens to—“ The T.V. flickers desperately before shutting off completely. The lights go too for a second, but pop right back on. Probably backup generators kicking in.

Silence.

“Is that… was that real?” It’s Taehyung who breaks first, automatically turning to the older boys for reassurance with wide eyes and a slightly trembling bottom lip. Hoseok shrugs helplessly, at a loss. Seokjin sits there blinking, looking dazed. Yoongi is silent. Jimin just stares at his rings.

All eyes turn to Namjoon who seems to know everything about everything. “Yeah, I think so.” His voice sounds distant, muffled, like Jungkook is under water. “The station isn’t that far from Mapo Bridge, right? Especially if he’s got a teleporter. Probably headed… here. Probably headed for Yeouido. The financial district—“

“We have to go.” The voice is soft and unmistakable. Jimin. “We have to get away from here!” He suddenly sounds more urgent, eyes wide with panic.

“Hang on now.” Hoseok frowns. “The news reporter said to stay inside—”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, Jimin is right. I have a bad feeling that we are in the middle of a war path.” He stands, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go before it’s too late.”

Outside, the streets are full of people as they peak out of the café. People running, people screaming, people crying for their loved ones. It’s Chaos with a capital C out there as the sky bleeds darker, inky and ominous. It feels apocalyptic.

The air is heavy—a storm. That’s what it smells like—ozone and petrichor, damp earth and the sharpness of lightning. Jungkook feels the hairs on his arm stand up as his skin pebbles. Eerie.

A small hand slips into his, and Jungkook looks down to see Jimin putting on a brave face. His hair is a nervous color, somewhere between green and yellow. “Let’s go,” he says. That’s right, Jungkook thinks—Jimin has always been a little afraid of storms, a little afraid of the raw power of lightening and the threatening rumble of thunder. Jungkook squeezes his hand a little harder, giving him a reassuring smile before tugging him out onto the street, the rest of their friends close behind.

Dodging the chaos and trying to keep their group together is hard. It feels like they are swimming against the crowd no matter what direction they turn, being swept up in the stream of terror. Jungkook panics briefly when Jimin’s fingers slip out of his grasp, only to return a moment later more secure.

“This way!” Namjoon yells. “We need to get away from the—” An angry crack of thunder cuts him short, echoing calls sounding off in the distance. Jungkook can feel the beat of it resonating in his chest. “We—” Namjoon tries again, but it’s drowned out by the soundtrack of desperation and Mother Nature.

All of a sudden, the general buzz of panic turns acute, a wave of screams coming from somewhere up ahead. Jimin pulls against Jungkook, trying to get them out of the way, but the street is packed with bodies.

Wheeling around, Jungkook tries to yell for their friends who are up ahead, but before he can make himself heard, he sees Seokjin’s spine stiffen and his eyes go wide. Following his line of sight, Jungkook sees two figures standing in the eye of the storm. The taller one raises a hand, lazily pointing at a lone tree before a streak of lightening arcs down from the sky, leaving it smoldering and split down the middle until it finally topples over with a deep groan. The rogue Gifted.

As a unit, Jungkook and his friends turn away, trying to make it down one of the side streets. Jungkook has almost made it to the sidewalk when a tug from Jimin pulls him up short. Looking over, he sees Jimin yelling something frantically. Jungkook leans forward to catch the end of it. “—hyung! Where is Taehyung?”

Shit. Oh shit.

A quick head count: Namjoon’s fried blonde hair and Seokjin’s brunette are easier to pick out from where they loom over the majority of the crowd. Hoseok and Yoongi cling together on Jungkook’s other side, but… no Taehyung. He’s just… gone.

Jimin sees him before Jungkook does, and starts waving frantically. “Kim Taehyung!” Jungkook spins around to get a better look, but all he can see is the top of Taehyung’s fluffy head from where he is crouched down next to a dog that has been tangled up in its own leash. Dread courses through him. Of course Taehyung would get distracted by a puppy now of all times.

Fighting his way back upstream, Jimin makes to go get him, but Jungkook grabs his hand. It’s shaking. A protective instinct takes over, and before he can think too much about it, Jungkook pulls Jimin back to him. “I’ll go, Hyung. You stay with the others.”

Without waiting for Jimin’s response, Jungkook leaps into the fray. He takes an elbow in the stomach and a shoulder to the head, but he can see Taehyung more clearly now, crouched protectively over the dog as it thrashes in terror. Jungkook stumbles up to them, panting. “Taehyung we have to go!”

“But the dog…”

A hand scrunches in the back of Jungkook’s shirt, and he is about to knock the teeth out of whomever it is when Jimin’s voice comes from over his shoulder. “Kim Taehyung, you’d better—”

Creeeaaaak

Jungkook sees the whites of Taehyung’s eyes as they widen into saucers. Looking up, they all watch in horror as the dead branch of a lightning-struck tree snaps off, plummeting down, down, down in slow motion. Taehyung tries to scramble away, hugging the dog to his chest, but it’s too late. A horrible crack, a piercing scream—the branch lands on Taehyung’s arm, trapping him underneath like a moth to a corkboard.

Jungkook can feel Jimin behind him, still clinging desperately to the back of his shirt in some twisted embrace before he begins to push forward frantically. They’re both at Taehyung’s side in moments, clearing away stray branches and debris. “Tae Tae, hey—It’s okay. You’re okay.” Jimin’s voice is shaky but his hands are sure.

Taehyung whimpers, looking up at them with round, watery eyes. “Hurts, Jiminie. Hurts.”

With the strength of Hercules, Jimin somehow manages to pry the branch off of Taehyung, tossing the thing away. Crouching back down, Jimin hovers hands over Taehyung’s arm, seemingly unsure if it is okay to touch. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Right away Jungkook can tell Taehyung will be fine. Years of rough housing and sports have taught him how to spot a significant injury, and Taehyung is probably more shaken than anything. Jungkook is about to suggest they all start running again when Jimin stands suddenly. “Hyung, what—”

A flash of lightning paints his silhouette in sharp contrast against the sky, and for a moment, all Jungkook can see is a shock of brilliant red hair and a murderous stare. “They’re gonna pay for this,” Jimin mutters darkly. “I’m going to make them pay.”

Wincing slightly, Taehyung finally sits up, good arm reaching for Jimin. “I’m fine! Jimin, look, I can—”

“They hurt you, Taehyung-ah. So I’m going to hurt them. They don’t deserve these kinds of Gifts if they are going to hurt people.” Jimin’s voice is hard and steely in a way Jungkook has never heard before, his Busan accent strong.

A block away, the rogues seem to have dismissed them entirely as inconsequential. They go back and forth in Chinese, sometimes laughing, sometimes pointing. Sometimes the thunder answers them and sometimes the lightning. Jimin seems to be listening in on their conversation, although there is no way he knows what they’re saying; nonetheless, he scowls harder as the taller one gestures back towards the Han River. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Now they’re just asking for it.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Jimin marches forward with purpose towards the rogues. They spare him a glance, but in the next second, they are simply… gone. Poofed. “Damn it!” Jimin yells, stomping a foot. “Fucking teleporters.”

The whole situation has Jungkook very confused. Shouldn’t they be glad the rogues have moved on? Shouldn’t they retreat and lick their wounds in peace? Get Taehyung all patched up? “Hyung, it’s okay. Let’s just—”

“I’m gonna go find them,” Jimin interrupts, eyes cast skyward. “The teleporter suggested they head towards the National Assembly Hall. If I drive fast enough, they should still be there by the time I arrive. You two stay here.”

And Jimin… he really seems to mean it. He really seems to think he has more than a snowball’s chance in hell at defeating these two internationally recognized criminals with nothing but his bare fists and wit. The thought is so baffling that Jungkook doesn’t even manage to catch Jimin before he is speeding off in his little blue car on a fool’s errand.

Dark storm clouds roll in overhead as they race after Jimin, the red of his taillights blurring with speed. Jimin has always been a bit of a reckless driver, but the way he careens around corners and flies over the curb has Jungkook’s stomach in knots.

Hoseok’s glow pulses nervously from where he sits in the passenger’s seat, lending the car an eerie light. Silently, Yoongi reaches forward, grabbing his hand with a gentle squeeze. Jungkook kind of wishes he had someone to grab his hand right now. “Hurry, Hyung. You’re losing him.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Seokjin mutters, stomping on his break when another car swerves in front of them. It’s the most Jungkook has ever head him swear. “Why are all these idiots on the road? Don’t they know to stay inside?” He sounds indignant, and it’s a little ironic, but Jungkook elects not to say anything. “And Park Jimin, the biggest idiot of them all, playing hero! That pipsqueak is in for a world of pain once I get my hands on him. I should really call his mother.”

Hoseok goes to say something comforting, but Jungkook tunes them out again. He can barely see Jimin’s fluffy head through his foggy rear window. His hair seems to be changing colors rapidly, flitting from red to green to silver and back again. He must be terrified. He should be terrified.

Just then, a bright zigzag of lightning strikes a nearby street lamp, sending it into a firework of sparks. Seokjin swerves again, quickly righting the car, but it’s enough to lose sight of Jimin.

“Hyung! Hyung, he’s gone! We have to find him! Faster, before he does something stupid!” Taehyung clings to Jungkook’s arm like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. Tears spill down his cheeks, still ashy from his earlier brush with the tree. He smells vaguely charred, like fried hair and smoke.

For what must be the millionth time, Jungkook wonders what exactly Jimin thinks he is going to do. Jimin is kind and funny and an incorrigible flirt, but no one has ever called him intimidating. Jungkook has always felt comfortable with him because Jimin’s gift is so tame, so nonthreatening. It always made Jungkook feel like they were on the same playing field. But now Jimin is running head first into a battle he just can’t win.

Up ahead, the National Assembly Hall looms. Seokjin slams on the breaks and the car skids to a halt, dangerously wobbling on two wheels before settling upright. All the lights on the block are burnt out. Shards of glass from busted bulbs litter the street. In the middle of it all, a man stands, utterly calm amidst the sea of chaos swirling around them. Laughing a little maniacally, he yells something at the sky. Lightning crackles in the distance like it’s laughing too. The teleporter is nowhere in sight, but Jungkook knows he could appear at any moment.

Jimin’s little blue car is parked on the corner, but he is nowhere to be seen. To be honest, none of them had really thought through what would happen once they actually caught up to Jimin. But here they are, less than a kilometer away from the electrokinetic Gifted, sitting ducks. And no Jimin.

That’s right around the time things go spectacularly wrong.

It starts when an excitable bolt of lightning decides to strike a nearby streetlamp, sending it crashing into their car’s bumper. It’s a nasty jolt for sure, but the real kicker comes when the rogue looks their direction. “Oh shit,” Seokjin whispers, and that’s all the time they have before another bolt of lightning illuminates the sky.

Seokjin slams a foot on the accelerator, but all that gives them is screeching tires against asphalt and the smell of burning rubber. It’s almost an out of body experience with Taehyung crying on his shoulder, Yoongi swearing up a storm and the two in front practically hyperventilating as they try to shift gears and find some traction.

The rogue frowns before making some kind of sweeping gesture with his arm. Jagged lines of electricity bloom above them like a flower, arcing down to cage them in on all sides. They’re surrounded by heat and light as the rogue stalks towards them. He raises a hand, summoning a ball of crackling energy with an annoyed frown.

This is it. This is really it. Jungkook grabs for Yoongi and Taehyung, holding their hands like a lifeline. Fleetingly, he sends out a quick wish to the universe that Jimin make it through safely before shutting his eyes tight and waiting for the pain.

“How dare you hurt my friends?!”

A figure stands backlit by the flashes of lightning, hands on hips and chin raised defiantly. It’s… Jimin?

“What do you think you are doing to my city?” He takes a graceful step forward, almost like a predator stalking its prey. Now that Jungkook can see him more clearly, Jimin really does look like a proud lion with his flaming, angry red hair and a fierce stare. “Who do you think you are? Zeus?”

Shit, Jimin is scary. Tilting his head just so, he looks so innocent, like he’s just asking a simple question. Why is the sky blue? How many eggs are in a dozen? What is the correct angle to stab a knife into a man’s chest to pierce his heart? The corner of Jimin’s mouth ticks up in to something sinister. A tingle of apprehension squirms down Jungkook’s spine the longer he watches.

Quick as a flash, Jimin moves forward like a blur, hand darting out to grab the rogue’s wrist. With a yank, Jimin tugs him in so they’re chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose. Jimin’s small shoulders look impossibly broad, like he is taking up more space than he has any right to. The rogue, in contrast, looks small, all caved in on himself. “You are going to regret this. You are going to regret hurting my friends.” Jimin says it with a snarl so out of character Jungkook almost pinches himself to make sure it isn’t a dream.

A hum fills the air, bright and a little ominous. The air crackles with power, sparking against Jungkook’s skin. There is an odd pulling sensation deep in his belly, like something is trying to struggle loose in there. Jimin’s hair is no longer red, but a shimmery silver white. Steely eyes, steely hair.

“You don’t deserve to wield this kind of power if you only use it to hurt people.” Jimin’s got the rogue’s hand clenched in a death grip, his brows furrowed and body tense. Then something very strange happens… their clasped hands start to glow faintly, pulsing with a cold light.

The rogue’s eyes widen in incredulity and fear as his whole body begins to glow. It reminds Jungkook of Hoseok’s gift, but this light is nothing like the Hoseok’s warm sunshine radiance. It is harsh and a little chaotic, pulsing irregularly. Slowly, the light starts to draw in on itself, all of it pooling into a blazing ball right behind the rogue’s navel. His fingertips go dark, then his arms and legs, all the way up until everything is focused into that little ball. Then it starts to move. It travels up through his chest and down into the hand Jimin still holds. It seems to hesitate for a second, clinging on to the rogue like it doesn’t want to leave him, before it leaps from his palm and… into Jimin’s.

Suddenly, the rogue Gifted collapses, his knees crumpling beneath him. At his side, Jimin’s spine goes ramrod straight as he tenses up again. It looks like he has been electrocuted, his hair standing on end. He gasps and then doubles over, breathing heavily. The cage of electricity dissipates from around the car, the air still and the crackling gone. The silence feels weighty and dense. Final.

Jimin stands on wobbly, coltish legs, stumbling a bit. “I hope you can—“ he gasps, “reflect on your actions.” The rogue scowls up at him from where he kneels on the ground. Shaking his head, he points a trembling finger at Jimin.

Free from his confines, Jungkook leaps from the car, racing headlong towards Jimin. He can hear the others chasing after him, but his only thought is getting to Jimin before the rogue’s bolt of lightning strikes him down. He has to save—

The rogue yells something in Chinese that sounds angry and vicious, but Jimin just smiles. It looks a little cruel. “What have I done, you ask? I just relieved you of the burden of your Gift.”

Skidding to a halt by Jimin’s side, Jungkook grabs him by the waist, holding him close as they watch the rogue try pointing again and again with no result. There is no crash of thunder. There is no crack of lightning. Not even a chirp of electricity in the still calm. The rogue stares at his own finger in horror.

Jimin laughs. Jimin actually laughs. “Don’t bother. Nothing’s going to happen. I stole your Gift and now it’s mine. That’s what I do, you see. I take Gifts from people like you who misuse and abuse them. Because that’s my Gift.”

It takes a second… to… process…

Jimin stole the rogue’s Gift. Jimin stole the rogue’s Gift. Jimin stole the rogue’s Gift.

It’s… It’s… impossible. Isn’t it?

Jungkook releases Jimin and takes a step back. Feeling his hands shake with fear and adrenaline, he clenches them into tight fists, but it’s harder to wrangle his tempestuous thoughts. Jungkook has been telling Jimin for years about how it feels to be Gift-less. How useless and confused and lost he feels, just wishing he had something, anything to call his own. And he thought Jimin understood, at least to some degree. He thought Jimin understood because all Jimin could do was change his stupid hair color—nothing mysterious or destructive like Taehyung or Namjoon. It felt like Jimin and Jungkook were equals, struggling through life without a Gift to aid them or direct them. But it was all a lie. It was all a lie because Jimin has the most powerful Gift Jungkook has ever seen, ever even read about. Had he been laughing at Jungkook this whole time? Gloating about how much better he was than the rest of them, secure in the knowledge that he could have any Gift he desired?

“Jungkookie?” Jimin tries, taking a tentative step forward. “Jungkookie, I—”

“How many powers have you stolen, huh? How much shit do you have stored up there? Can you breath fire? Stop time? Make…” Jungkook breathes in an agonizing breath, choking up. “Make people fall in love with you?”

Jimin frowns, looking hurt. “No! No of course not. Okay, maybe I… I stole Park Bogum’s two days ago, but I haven’t stolen that many. The first time it was a complete accident. I was mad because I was the last person in my grade to manifest a Gift, so a friend of mine held my hand while I cried. I didn’t mean to—I swear I didn’t mean to, but her Gift kind of just… came to me through our hands. After that, I panicked. I tried asking around about how to reverse the effects of Gifts, but no one took me seriously. I was just a little kid, you know? But then I started to wonder if I could even do it again. Maybe it was just a big accident. So I tried one more time. There was a girl in my class that was a bit of a bully, but her hair changed colors with her mood.” Jungkook’s heart stops. Jimin’s hair colors… it hadn’t even occurred to him that was someone else’s Gift. Something so fundamentally Jimin and it was all a lie. “I thought it was the coolest thing. I… I thought she didn’t deserve to have such a nice Gift when she was so mean. So I took it for myself. I know I’m selfish, but I swear I only do it when someone really, really deserves it.”

It’s hard to put into words how fundamentally wrong that all seems to Jungkook, like Jimin just plays with people’s Gifts as if they are nothing. “That’s not an excuse, Jimin-hyung. You can’t just take something like that from somebody else. You can’t… can’t leave them Gift-less and hollow like me. Like a freak.”

“You’re not a freak, Jungkookie.” Jimin says it on autopilot. He must have, because it’s something he has said to Jungkook more times than either of them can count. Jungkook can see him getting agitated, biting on his lip and playing with his rings. “How can you—how can you say that? Why can’t you understand that I would never try to hurt people like that? Sometimes people don’t deserve the power of their Gift. Sometimes they misuse it and I need to—” Jimin gasps as the air around him starts to crackle and fizz, his hair standing up on end. That zing of power is back in the air.

“What are you doing, Jimin-ah? You know we are on your side!” Yoongi shouts over the chirp of electricity.

“I can’t—“ A bolt of lightning zags across the sky, lighting up the world in a momentary flash so blindingly bright Jungkook has to look away. Quickly, Jimin stuffs his hands into his armpits, hugging himself tightly. “I can’t control it.”

Ropes of electricity snake around his body, coiling tight around his arms and legs before slithering up, up to where little tendrils play with his hair. They tease it into disarray until Jimin looks like Medusa. It sounds like they’re cackling, laughing at their own destruction.

Hoseok takes a cautious step forward. Even his sunshine glow seems pale in comparison to Jimin’s lightning. “Jimin-ah, calm down. You just need to take a deep breath and—“

“A deep breath?!” Jimin is barely hanging on to this side of hysteria. “You think a deep breath is going to fix this, Hyung?” Splashes of red stain his cheeks and neck, the blush only disappearing beneath the cotton of his t-shirt. Wild eyes, restless hands—Jimin looks like he is going to implode. “I’m a danger to you all. I can’t—“ He cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes rolling back as the electric currents fiz and snap around him, lashing out at a nearby tree until it splinters apart. “I need to leave,” he mutters. “I need to go.”

Recognizing that look in Jimin eyes, Jungkook lunges forward. It’s instinct, really. All Jungkook’s hurt and anger is secondary to the fact that Jimin looks like he could burst. Jungkook knows what’s going to happen a moment before it does. “Hyung, no! Don’t—“

And Jimin is gone. One second he is standing there, shivering as lightning dances around him, looking so small and pale, and the next he just… isn’t.

“Fuck!” Yoongi curses. “I forgot about the Gifted teleporter. He must have stolen that Gift too since the fucker is nowhere to be seen. Where did Jimin go?”

“He could be in Busan by now, for all we know. Or China.”

It’s been two weeks since Jungkook has seen Jimin. Two weeks of worrying and pacing and crying himself to sleep. Probably the longest they’ve ever spent apart since Jimin left for university while Jungkook was stuck slogging through the final dregs of high school back in Busan.

The other hyungs keep sending him worried looks and trying to broach the subject, but Jungkook usually just brushes them off or pretends not to hear. It feels like he is on the verge of a breakdown and anything Jimin-related could send him off the edge.

It’s absurd, really. Jimin is an adult. Jimin can take care of himself. After all, he can just steal any Gift he needs to survive. But he is also Jimin, and Jungkook is in love with him and worried sick. Jungkook feels so guilty about accusing Jimin of duping him, causing him to panic and quite literally sparking this whole electrical meltdown.

There is nothing like imminent death and destruction to put things in perspective. Jungkook can’t lose Jimin like this, not after yelling at him like that. Not when Jungkook regrets ever feeling that nasty pit of anger and resentment in his stomach. Not when he is still consumed with so much longing and love. If only he could find Jimin, sit him down, explain his feelings rationally and tell him all that petty shit means nothing because it’s Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, his person.

So it’s right about that two week mark that Jungkook decides to take matter into his own hands. He will find Jimin and he will apologize and make him see reason. If anyone knows where Jimin is, it would be—“Taehyung-hyung!”

Taehyung whips around, eyes wide, pastry half way to his mouth. Quickly, he brushes some crumbs from his face and smiles at Jungkook, noticeably more chipper than he has been since Jimin disappeared. Suspicious. Very suspicious. “What’s up, Jungkookie? Don’t you have class right now?”

Jungkook squints at him, trying to determine if he is hiding something. Taehyung fidgets a little, playing with his hands nervously. “It was canceled. Don’t try to distract me.” Looking vaguely affronted, Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but Jungkook cuts him off, maybe a little rude. “I want to know where Jimin-hyung is.”

At this, Taehyung freezes up. “Uh, yeah... Don’t we all? Jiminie—he… well… I have a… hmm. Yep.” As he talks, his normal baritone voice pitches higher and higher until he practically squeaks out the last word. Jungkook is not impressed.

“Mmhmm,” he hums. “Sure. Now tell me where he is. Is he near Seoul? Did he go back to Busan? Is he with family?” Taehyung just continues to stare at him with wide eyes. “Is he eating? Sleeping? Drinking enough water? You know he is bad about hydration.” The longer Taehyung keeps quiet, the more agitated Jungkook gets. “Is he okay? Is he safe? He’s not hurt, right? He didn’t zap himself and fry his own brain, right? The Gift wouldn’t let him, right? Right?!” Defeated, Jungkook tries one last question. “He doesn’t hate me… right?”

Taehyung looks devastated, hands waving around frantically like he is trying to physically fight off all of Jungkook’s negative thoughts. “God—no, Jungkookie. Of course he doesn’t hate you!” Jungkook mentally pats himself on the back. He knows how to work his hyungs. “He is trying to protect you!”

Triumphant, Jungkook crows. “So you do know where he is! Come on, Hyung. Tell me, please!”

Shoulders slumping forward in defeat, Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs dramatically. “Look, he made me promise not to tell you anything. He is trying to figure some stuff out right now and he doesn’t want to hurt any of us, especially you.” A shrug. “Sorry, Jungkook-ah. My hands are tied.”

Jungkook wants to stomp his feet and yell like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum, but he reigns himself in. Use your words, Jungkook. That’s what Jimin always use to say. Gritting his teeth, he pushes on. “Hyung, I know he thinks he is keep us safe, but that leaves nobody to keep him safe. I can convince him to come back home.” Taehyung looks torn. Jungkook presses a little harder. “He needs someone.”

“He needs space?” Taehyung tries weakly, almost like a question, and Jungkook knows he has won.

He just needs one last push. “Come on, Hyung. You know Jimin-hyung will never be happy alone.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Taehyung finally relents. Jungkook has the sneaking suspicion Taehyung intended to tell him all along and the argument was just for show. “Fine! Fine… If we can figure out how to cure him, I’ll tell you where he is.”

“Cure him?” Jungkook asks. “Like teach him how to control the electricity power?”

Taehyung looks around, a little shifty. “He…” Jungkook waits more or less patiently while Taehyung combs through words in his head and sorts himself out. Years of friendship have taught Jungkook that Taehyung’s thoughts sometimes come in fits and starts, all jumbled before he sets them straight. With a deep breath, Taehyung continues. “He thinks there is a way to destroy them—the Gifts, I mean. He read about it somewhere. Apparently there have been others with his Gift—you know, the original one, the steal-y one. He says they’re dangerous—people like him. But he said he read a story of someone purging all the Gifts she had accumulated in, like, a mass exodus.” Taehyung sighs, suddenly sounding world-weary. “But that’s the problem, you know?” He trails off again and Jungkook has to actively keep himself from strangling his hyung because no, Jungkook does not know and that is why they are having this conversation. “He only found that one story and hasn’t been able to find anything else that would tell him how to do it.”

Ah, finally—a clear problem with a clear solution Jungkook can take on headfirst. “Well then we just need to help him look. Namjoon-hyung basically lives in the library anyway, so I’m sure he can find what we need.” Simple.

Blinking owlishly, Taehyung leans forward in excitement. “Do you think?”

“Definitely.”

But, well, maybe it’s easier said than done. When Jungkook and Taehyung ran up to Namjoon panting from their sprint to the library, anything had seemed possible, but now, five hours later, Jungkook’s eyes are drooping and things look pretty dire.

“Has anyone already looked through either National Society for the Gifted: Mutation and Replication Gifts, The Destruction, Negation and Erasure of Gifts in the 19th & 20th Centuries, or Gift Manipulation and Other Potentikinesetic Abilities?” Hoseok mumbles into the denim of Yoongi’s jeans from where they lie slumped together on the couch.

There is a collective groan of ‘no’ before Taehyung sighs loudly. “This isn’t working. We are never going to find anything to help Jimin.”

Hoseok is having none of it. “Stop that, Taehyung-ah. If you continue to be negative, I’m going to have to lock you up and throw away the key!”

And well, that’s just—

“That’s it, Hoseok-ah! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!” Namjoon leaps up from his chair, a manic look in his eye as he whips his head back and forth before taking off into the stacks like a dog on the hunt. There is a moment of stunned silence in which the rest of them look on cluelessly before collectively jolting in to action, hot on Namjoon’s heels.

They race past Literature and Pre-modern History, past the periodicals and Special Collections, librarians yelling at them to be quiet all the way. Namjoon seems to be headed for the law books, a part of the library no one had thought to consult. The seeds of an idea niggle at the back of Jungkook’s mind, only half formed as they skid into the Legal History section. “Criminals!” Namjoon shouts. “They need to seal the criminal’s Gifts!”

Yes.

Yes.

This is it. This is what they have been looking for.

“Tell me. Tell me how to do it.”

Jimin has chosen to hide himself away in the foothills of some mountain, deep in the heart of the forest and away from prying eyes. While Jungkook understands Jimin’s wish for privacy as he figures out how to control his new Gift, it’s still a pain in the ass to find him amongst all the… nature. Taehyung’s instructions were predictably vague—‘oh, just keep walking until you find the tree that looks like a dragon but also kind of like a strawberry but if you reach the Buddhist temple you’ve gone too far’—and Jungkook is no boy scout, so it takes him almost half a day of purposeful wandering to find Jimin’s hut before it dawns on him that this is Jimin’s family’s vacation cabin fallen into disrepair. They’d visited as children during the muggy summer months between school, scraping their knees and climbing trees that seemed taller than skyscrapers.

Little puffs of smoke curl out of the chimney, and the windows are alive with candlelight. Laundry hangs out to dry, strung up on some twine between the trees. It’s kind of homey.

So it’s a homey looking hut, but a hut nonetheless.

Jimin is nowhere to be seen, but the nearby trees are all charred with odd, zigzag burns presumably made by lighting, so Jungkook is confident he’s found the right spot. A burst of light from the back yard and a curse straight out of the wharfs of Busan let him know that Jimin is here.

Rounding the side of the hut, Jungkook gets his first glimpse of Jimin in weeks. Frizzy yellow hair puffed out like a porcupine, soot stained jeans with a big hole in the knee, blackened fingertips and bloodshot eyes—Jimin looks like a mess. He seems to be in the middle of ranting at a tree when their eyes meet.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin’s voice cracks and Jungkook’s heart breaks a little bit. “What are— “ He has to stop and clear his throat again. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Jungkook takes a step forward, trying to bridge some of the terribly vast distance between them, but Jimin just scuttles backwards like a caged animal. “No! Don’t come any closer. It’s—I’m too dangerous,” Jimin rasps, eyes wild with something Jungkook doesn’t recognize.

“Hyung,” he tries again, reaching out, but Jimin just looks more agitated, wringing his hands and shuffling his feet. Little tendrils of electricity leap between the pads of his fingers and wrap around strands of his hair, making it stick up at funny angles. It would be cute if things weren’t so tense. “You’re not gonna hurt me, Hyung. I know you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“It wouldn’t be on purpose—God, Jungkookie…” Jimin whimpers and it is the most vulnerable Jungkook has ever seen him. Every instinct is directing him to go to Jimin’s side, to comfort him and hold him and love him forever, but Jimin looks like he is one wrong move away from bolting and there is nothing Jungkook could do to stop him. Not when he’s got the teleportation Gift. “It’s so hard to control. Harder than any other Gift I’ve ever experienced. Like this wild beast inside of me that wants to get out, that just wants to destroy everything in its path. Now I understand why that rogue did what he did. He couldn’t do anything else.” The electric currents crackle malevolently as if in agreement, and Jimin claws at his own skin like he could rip it right off, his body momentarily going haywire. “This Gift… it’s raw chaos.”

Taking another step forward, Jungkook puts up both hands. “That’s why I’m here, Hyung. I’m gonna help you.” With a deep breath, he forges on. “Taehyung-hyung said you were looking for a way to purge all the powers you’ve collected. Is that true? Are you really willing to give them all up?”

Jimin doesn’t even pause. “Yes. Yes, I want them gone. But why, Jungkookie? I—what are you trying to say?” The uncertain look on Jimin’s face is slowly becoming hesitantly hopeful like he’s catching on. His hair flickers to lavender, a color Jungkook doesn’t really know how to interpret.

“I’m saying that we found a way to seal all the Gifts so that you can’t use them anymore and they can’t use you.” Or that’s the gist of it, anyway. Jimin doesn’t need to know that it’s a process used on crooks and criminals.

… “Really?”

“Really really.” Jimin’s hair turns the blazing violet of optimism and the electricity in the air ratchets up a notch in intensity, almost like it knows it’s in danger, knows Jungkook is coming for it. “All we need to bind them is something metal that you can wear.” Jails typically use manacles but Jungkook refuses to put something so degrading on Jimin, so he decides to improvise. “… and maybe a couple shots of hard alcohol.” That one is a personal request.

Balking slightly, Jimin scrunches up his nose. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. I… I’m not going to be able to use any of them?”

“No, Hyung. It’s all or nothing. You gotta decide.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course I’m in. Right.” But he sounds so uncertain, so unsure. And Jungkook gets it. He really does. The idea of being Gift-less must be daunting to someone as powerful as Jimin, like ripping out a part of his very soul. But Jungkook has some experience with life without a Gift, and if he can get through it, Park Jimin sure as hell can.

“I’ve spent my whole life wishing I had a Gift to guide me. I thought I was the only person floundering because I didn’t have one. But it’s not true. Did you know Hoseok-hyung doesn’t even like botany? He wanted to be a dancer, but he felt trapped because of his Gift. Namjoon-hyung has no idea what he wants to do with his life and he is the smartest person I know. Gifts aren’t—“ Jungkook trips over his words, trying to get all his thoughts out of his head so Jimin will understand. “Gifts are just something people can do. Sometimes they are helpful and sometimes they’re painful. But everyone is confused, no matter what their Gift is. Namjoon-hyung says it’s part of growing up. And…” Heat suddenly blooms on Jungkook’s cheeks at what he is about to say. “And a Gift isn’t worth it if I don’t have you, Jiminie-hyung.”

Jimin’s eyes look suspiciously glassy, his voice tellingly hoarse as he gurgles out a laugh. “Look at you, my little hypocrite. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck because shit, this is embarrassing. “I’m a little slow sometimes.”

“No—God—you’re perfect.” Squaring his shoulders, Jimin slides a heavy silver ring off his finger and lays it flat on his palm like an offering. “Will this work for your seal?”

It’s gonna have to, Jungkook thinks.

He reaches for the ring only to get a nasty zap when one of the electric currents lashes out. The current skitters away, cackling like a naughty toddler as Jimin swats at it. Giving up, he sighs and simply tosses the ring to Jungkook. “Do what you have to do.”

Calling upon his quickly depleting reservoir of tranquility, Jungkook takes a deep breath. Namjoon had explained in great detail all the steps they would need for the seal—including little diagrams Jungkook could barely read—but Jungkook had never had a chance to actually test it out in practice. Again… Jimin doesn’t need to know how tight a rope they are walking. “Okay, Hyung, all we have to do is block a couple of your chakra points and bind the metal of this ring to you. I really hope you’re not squeamish at the sight of blood. I promise it’s only a little prick.”

“I trust you, Jungkook-ah.”

“You want to punch me where?”

“No, Hyung, I’m not going to punch you. Now you’re just being difficult,” Jungkook pouts. He’s explained it to Jimin several times: block the chakras, bind the ring. Now Jimin is just stalling.

“Okay, okay. I just have to stand here, right?” Fidgeting a bit, Jimin stands in the middle of a clearing, looking small amidst all that empty space.

“Yeah.” Jungkook hesitates. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” Jimin just nods, closing his eyes.

Making the proper hand signal, Jungkook places his fingers in the middle of Jimin’s forehead, right between his eyes. Pressing firmly, he concentrates on Jimin’s Gift and the flow of energy through both their bodies. He mutters the incantation, feeling a little foolish. For the second chakra, Jungkook makes a new hand sign before resting his palms atop Jimin’s head. Again, he searches for that life force and presses down, saying the words Namjoon had drilled into his head. Finally it is time for the seal. Removing both the ring and a small knife from his pocket, Jungkook winces in sympathy as he opens a tiny cut on Jimin’s finger. He places the ring atop, letting it touch the blood. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels the thing grow colder under his touch.

Slipping the ring on Jimin’s finger feels final in more ways than one. It feels intimate, like binding themselves together even as it is meant to bind Jimin’s Gifts. The air is charged, but not with electricity.

That’s when Jungkook senses it, a rush of energy from his body to Jimin’s. A thick smoke starts to bubble up around them. Jimin’s hair goes white and his eyes snap open, gaze blank and glassy. Is this supposed to happen? None of Namjoon’s books and words could have prepared them for this.

Jungkook feels lightheaded and faint, stumbling back as the smoke closes in.

Jungkook just lies there in the soft grass, panting for a moment. The world is spinning, tilting this way and that. All he can smell is smoke and forest. All he can see is grey.

Slowly, the smoke begins to clear, slinking off into the trees. A boy is left crouching in the middle of it all, his head clutched in his hands. It’s Jimin. He looks… younger somehow, softer. Maybe it’s his hair, now a natural black just like when they were kids. It suits him. Everything suits him, Jungkook thinks.

Jimin looks up and catches his eye. They both stand slowly, a bit wary. “Did it work? Are they gone?”

It’s hard to tell, really. Jimin still looks like Jimin, but Jungkook supposes that’s never really changed. “You tell me, Hyung. Try using one of them.”

Jimin frowns. “It’s too dangerous to use the elektrokinesis Gift, so tell me a lie. Any lie.”

Vaguely, Jungkook wonder’s whose Gift that was before he brushes the thought away. “You were born in Busan first.”

Jimin’s scrunched up nose and look of concentration smooth out as he laughs delightedly. “You brat. Stop copying me. I was born in Busan first.”

Just as he always does, Jungkook has to laugh along with Jimin. Those are the things he associates with joy and happiness: Laughter, Jimin and pink hair.

Pink. Hair.

“Hyung… Hyung!” Jungkook says excitedly, waving his hands about. “I think it worked! Your hair didn’t change color when you laughed!”

Jimin smiles wryly. “Looks like we’re both Gift-less now.”

“No we’re not.” Jungkook steps forward. After all, there really is nothing like imminent death and destruction to put things in perspective and he has been putting this off for far too long. “I’ve had a Gift all along.” Another step. They’re toe to toe and Jimin is still looking up at him through his eyelashes, but this time no one ruins the mood with a punch to the arm or a poorly timed joke. “You’re my Gift, Hyung.”

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

“Shit, that was smooth,” Jimin breathes out in awe, blinking up at him.

“I have my moments.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you sappy bastard.”

And so he does. It's a gift.