Chapter Text
1. JUNGKOOK:
Being in love with Jimin is both the easiest and hardest thing Jungkook has ever done. It’s confusing sometimes. Illogical. But in the same breath, it’s also the most natural thing in the world. Inevitable. Jungkook doesn’t know when even Jimin’s silences became more precious than other people’s words, when sleep became secondary to watching late nights bleed into early mornings together. He doesn’t remember when Jimin became home. But he also doesn’t know when he became so fragile for Jimin, so gone for his sweet concern and ridiculous smile, bending like a sunflower towards his warmth. After all, to love is to be vulnerable.
When he thinks back on loving Jimin, it comes to him in fits and starts, little scenes all jumbled up and out of order.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
Like listening to Jimin chatter excitedly about dinosaurs for an hour straight. (“Jungkookie, did you know scientists now think certain dinosaurs maybe have been able to break the sound barrier with their tails? They could make sonic booms, Jungkookie. Jungkookie, are you listening?”) Or searching frantically for Jimin’s passport before their trip to Tokyo only to find it all bent out of shape and lying in the dust-bunny graveyard underneath the couch because Jimin had gotten distracted while showing someone his travel stamps and let it slip between the pillows. They almost missed their flight, but it had been worth it for the sheepish smile Jimin gave him.
And sometimes it’s the big things:
Like when Jimin skipped his final dance competition to stay home and take care of a sick Jungkook, petting his hair and feeding him soup, assuring him that it wasn’t a big deal even though Jungkook could tell he was lying. Or the way Jimin didn’t make Jungkook feel stupid even when it would have been so easy with Jimin’s perfect grades, perfect top of his class position. When others would tease Jungkook about his awful math skills or the way he botched his English test, Jimin was always the first to cut in with a soft reprimand and a reminder that Jungkook was smart in other ways, smart with people, art and sports. The time Jimin told him “It’s okay, Jungkookie. You have other strengths. You’re so creative and kind, hard working and clever, it would be unfair if you were good at math too. Leave some talent for the rest of us, hey?” will forever be etched into Jungkook’s memory, something he returns back to again and again when he feels down.
It’s just a series of moments, really. Just two lives that periodically touch. A feeling that’s been growing in his chest for a long time now, building and building until sometimes Jungkook thinks it could choke him.
All Jungkook knows is that Jimin tastes like stale coffee and sunshine and infinite forevers, and being with him feels like that perfect ache after laughing too much. At the end of it all, Jimin is so terribly easy to love.
However, Jimin is clueless when it really counts and Jungkook is stubborn when it doesn’t. Sometimes Jungkook gets angry at the world, angry with Jimin when he says things like “Oh, Jungkook? He’s like a little brother to me” so flippantly.
And that just doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. Actually, it kind of eats at him all day. He can’t stop thinking about it, obsessing over it. So when he gets Jimin alone that night, he picks him up by his thighs and pins him against the wall, kissing him like a dying man living his last breaths. “Little brother, huh? Would you do this with your little brother? Would you kiss Jihyun like this? No, Jimin-ah, you only kiss me like this, right?”
Jimin’s got that confused little furrow in brow like he doesn’t understand what he’s done, what he does to Jungkook. How he has wrecked him, ruined him for anyone else. So Jungkook just kisses him again, desperate and wanting and unable to put everything he feels into something concrete, into words Jimin can hear and understand.
But in Jungkook’s head, the words sound an awful lot like ‘I love you. Please love me too.’
“Hyung!”
Jungkook sprints across the street, puffs of breath like dragon smoke in the cold night. The group turns to him as one, all of them trained to the word. “I meant Jimin-hyung,” he says sheepishly once he reaches them, immediately latching on to Jimin’s coat sleeve.
“Of course you did,” Yoongi mutters, but smiles indulgently at him all the same.
“I saw the poster for the dance expo on the student notice board,” Jungkook huffs, stretching out the moment a little just to leave them all in suspense. “They used Jiminie-hyung’s picture!” Beaming, he turns to Jimin. “You looked so cool, Hyung.”
Everyone immediately talks over each other to congratulate Jimin, who looks absolutely thrilled with all the attention and praise, an endearing mix of smug and bashful. Seokjin tucks Jimin under his arm because he is tall and older and can do that kind of thing without it being weird. “Our little star,” he coos, fingers tickling under Jimin’s chin. “Dinner is on Hyung tonight, okay?”
All of them cheer—free food is free food—and begin to bicker over where to go. Yoongi wants barbeque but Namjoon is craving kal-guksu for the forth night in a row and Taehyung keeps asking for ice cream in a weird voice that Jungkook thinks is supposed to be an impression of an obscure anime they watched together once a long time ago. Fed up, Seokjin hushes them all. “Tonight we are celebrating Jimin and Hoseok’s dance expo, so they get to decide.”
After a fierce game of scissor-paper-stone, Jimin happily leads them to a hole-in-the-wall joint serving hearty stews. Fairy lights twinkle all around them as Jimin greets the owner like an old friend, boasting a little about his most recent moment in the spotlight until the woman pinches his cheeks and gives him a bottle of soju for free. Jungkook feels so ridiculously content watching Jimin stuff heaping spoonfuls of kimchi jigae in his mouth, even when he dribbles it all over the table. It’s even better once Jimin turns to him, offering up bites of stew and rice or a particularly good piece of meat.
Everything is as it should be. Everything is perfect. Or it is until she walks in.
Her hair is pulled back in a perfect bun, not a wisp out of place. Her heels click softly on the floor as she floats up to the counter, graceful and gorgeous, a goddess among mortals. A ridiculously handsome man trails in her wake, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit even Jungkook’s untrained eye can tell cost a small fortune.
Beside him, Jimin goes rigid.
Fucking hell.
“I need to…” Jimin stutters, chopsticks clattering where he drops them on the table. “I need to go.”
Kim Boram. The youngest professor on faculty, fashion designer extraordinaire, and hopeless crush of a solid 75% of the student body. Or in Jimin’s case, not so hopeless. At least it didn’t seem hopeless for a while there.
It was always the little things that made Jungkook jealous—the loaded looks, the special smiles, Jimin’s hand on her knee. The easy way they fit. Jungkook will never be soft like she is. He is all sharp edges and rough patches, bruised knees like a little kid, and she is grace and elegance, a tinkling laugh and a small, upturned nose.
Jungkook remembers nights of calling Jimin for hours, waiting for him to pick up only to find out from Taehyung that Jimin was out with her. He remembers listening to Jimin prattle on and on about Boram’s laugh or her dimple or her goddamn dental floss for all it mattered. But he also remembers holding Jimin as he sobbed and sobbed until he was empty, staring blankly at the wall while Jungkook tried to piece together the story. After all, Jimin thought he was going to be with Boram for the rest of his life. He wanted an epic love story full of soulmates and happily ever afters but what he got was a broken heart. She was engaged. She’d been playing him for a fool for more than a year.
And Jungkook hates her for it. He hates that she hurt Jimin, hates how she took away Jimin’s dignity and self-confidence in one foul swoop and then left him high and dry to weather the consequences. But most of all, he hates how she had everything Jungkook has ever wanted and didn’t even care.
But none of that matters anymore because now Jimin is shaking and babbling excuses, pushing himself up on coltish legs as he tries to keep his head down. Clearly confused, Seokjin urges him to stay, but Jimin is already edging towards the door. Jungkook’s chair scrapes nosily against the wood floor as he stands too, rushing to catch up with Jimin.
“Hyung,” he says, unsure but ready to help in anyway he can. Jimin just grabs him by the wrist, grip like iron as he drags them both onto the street and off towards the nearest subway station.
They stumble all the way to Jimin’s apartment in terrifying silence. Not even the familiar smell of melon bread from the bakery next door calms Jungkook’s nerves. Jimin’s keys jangle as he tosses them in the bowl, his boots thunk against the wall when he throws them carelessly—it’s all normal, it’s all routine, but Jungkook feels sick with worry because Jimin won’t fucking say anything.
They pad into the living room, Jungkook following along like a puppy with an angry master.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“I want you to fuck me,” Jimin finally whispers, voice hoarse and raw. “I want you to fuck me right now. Hard.”
Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. They’ve never… not like that anyway. “Do you mean…”
“I mean I need you inside me, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says, already slipping his coat off. “I need you to fill up everything she ripped out.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt.
Jungkook hesitates for a moment. Is this really the way he wants his fist time inside Jimin to go? He’d imagined it so may times, sweet and slow and romantic, Jimin gasping his name like a prayer. But the Jimin in front of him right now needs something else, needs a filthy fuck and quick release. He watches as Jimin’s fingers tremble, struggling to undo the button on his jeans. That decides it. “Anything you want, Hyung.”
Jungkook wakes to fingers combing softly through his hair, tender and sweet. It’s Jimin, of course. It’s all too easy to imagine a world where they wake up together like this every day, a world where Jimin loves him gently.
A couple more minutes, he tells himself. A couple more minutes and he’ll pretend to wake up. Jimin will take his hand away as if nothing had happened. Jimin, who is so effortlessly affectionate with just about everyone, who loves fiercely with his whole heart but never the way Jungkook wants him to.
The next day, Jimin pretends nothing happened.
And so it goes.
“It’s not that much farther. Maybe five more minutes, Jungkookie.”
“You said that five minutes ago too, Hyung.”
Jimin looks vaguely sheepish, spinning on his heel to walk backwards down the street with a big grin. Exasperated, Jungkook lunges forward just in time to steer him around a sign propped up on the asphalt so he doesn’t trip. Jimin just giggles and punches Jungkook in the arm. It hurts less than it should given how hard Jimin punches.
“It’s gonna be worth it. Seokjin-hyung said their earl grey and chocolate ganache pie is to die for.” Jimin glances down at his phone, checking the little map he has pulled up. “I need you to help me decide if it’s a good date spot.”
“Date?” Jungkook says as causally as possible, interest suddenly piqued. “Who are you taking on a date?”
“Minji from my lab class.” Jimin breaks out one of his sunniest smiles just from the thought. “Didn’t I tell you about her? She’s so cute, Kook. Like a puppy, you know? And she has these…”
Jungkook carefully tunes him out.
2. TAEHYUNG:
Taehyung may or may not be a little drunk.
His Melona bar is melting all over his hand and it makes him sad in an existential kind of way far beyond the scope of a popsicle. Stumbling out of the little convenience store where the rest of his friends still debate the best snacks, Taehyung runs a hand along the solid brick wall just to ground himself in reality.
Just as he goes to lick the sticky green melted Melona off his hand, a loud thud and a muffled laugh echo through the back alley behind the store. The laugh sounds kind of like Jimin, and it’s enough of a draw for Taehyung to investigate.
Two figures huddle together near the other end of the alley. Squinting through the general haze of alcohol, Taehyung stumbles towards them. He recognizes Jimin’s favorite striped sweater and that stupid red beanie Jungkook always wears, and is about to call out to his friends when he sees Jimin crowd Jungkook up against the brick. Taehyung watches in a daze as Jimin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, letting his hand fall causally until it rests against Jungkook’s chest. Taehyung listens to their soft, indistinct murmurs. It’s oddly intimate, the way their bodies bend together, curves and edges fitting perfectly like a puzzle. Watching the two of them almost feels voyeuristic.
Jungkook drags a palm up Jimin’s waist, lets his knuckles trace Jimin’s profile gently, so gently—down the slope of his nose and the swell of his lips, finally resting under his chin until Taehyung is certain Jungkook can feel every breath Jimin takes.
That’s when the gap between them closes.
The kiss looks soft at first, tender, but soon it turns filthy, Jimin nudging a thigh in between Jungkook’s legs, dragging him down by the scruff of his hair until the angle is just right. That ratty beanie gets knocked off and falls into a puddle at their feet. Jimin kicks it away as he knots his hands in Jungkook’s hoodie. Taehyung feels the passion half way across the alley, feels the way Jungkook’s hands tremble as he cradles Jimin’s face, the very beating of their hearts.
They look like a painting, Taehyung thinks. Like something terribly romantic. Maybe one with the passion of a Klimt but the soft, hazy feeling of a Monet, or that rainbow intimacy of a Leonid Afremov. Yes, definitely something in the modern impressionist style, Taehyung decides. He also decides to not be too offended that they hadn’t told him until after he sobers up and does some investigation. Mostly, he’s mad at himself for not realizing sooner—they’re two of his best friends after all.
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he mutters to himself. “This is going to change everything.”
“I saw you and Jimin the other night.” Taehyung looks casual as he leans against the side of a building, picking at his nails. Too casual. Jungkook is automatically wary.
“Saw us what?” he asks, trying to match his hyung’s tone.
Taehyung doesn’t look amused, leveling Jungkook with a flat glare. “I saw you,” he repeats.
Oh. Oh. He saw them. Saw them pressed up against each other in the back alley behind the convenience store where everybody had gone to buy ice creams. Probably saw the way Jungkook couldn’t keep his hands from running through Jimin’s hair, over his cheekbones and down the soft curve of his neck, saw the way Jungkook let himself be pinned against the wall, helpless as Jimin kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. “Oh yeah?” He says it like a challenge because he doesn’t know how else to protect himself.
“Yeah.” Taehyung blinks at him. “Be careful.”
Sighing, Jungkook lets his head thunk back against the brick wall, defeated. “I know, hyung. I know how dangerous it can be in this country.”
“No, not about being gay.” Taehyung frowns, nudging Jungkook with his shoulder. “Fuck, be out and proud if you want. You know I will always support you. I meant be careful with Jimin. Because, so help me Jeon Jungkook, if you hurt Jimin, I will hurt you.”
“I don’t think he’s the one you have to worry about, Hyung.”
“Oh yeah? Well I think you’d be surprised.”
“Jeon Jungkookie…”
Jungkook blinks tiredly. It’s too early to function. The streets of Seoul are slow and sluggish for once, and in front of him, Jimin stands bleary eyed and yawning, face still soft and puffy with sleep. He’s got this hat on that makes him look all of twelve years old and it’s too damn cute.
“Jungkookie,” Jimin repeats, smiling fondly.
It’s too early, too much like a dream, and maybe that’s why Jimin does it. Maybe that’s why he reaches out a hand, towing Jungkook down by the neck like he always does. Maybe that’s why Jimin kisses him right there in the middle of the sidewalk, just a quick press of lips over the cotton of Jungkook’s facemask.
Jimin giggles shyly, leaning back to get a look at Jungkook’s wide, shocked eyes and the blush that’s made it all the way up to tips of his ears. With a subtle glance to make sure no one is looking, Jimin tugs Jungkook’s facemask down and leans in for another kiss, a real one this time. “Hey, I missed you this week. I hate it when we’re too busy to meet up. You’re still coming to my dance showcase, right?”
“Yeah…” Jungkook says, still in a daze, not quite sure what just happened. “Yes of course, Hyung.”