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“Hello, Jimin-ssi, thank you for sitting down with us.” The upper house had transformed from a busy hive of gaming and cooking into a quiet spot, now that they’d reached the end of their week here. The members were leaving first, and once they were gone, staff would come through and pack everything else up and clean up. Jimin was anxious to get this final step over with so he could get home, to the familiar — and unfamiliar.
“This is the exit interview, yeah?” Jimin asked, getting more comfortable in the seat he’d spent so many hours gaming on in the past week. He squirmed a little, the pain still making it a bit uncomfortable to sit for too long.
The man across from him nodded. “Yes, you know how this works. We’ll ask a series of questions about your time here. Just answer as honestly as you can, in whatever way makes you most comfortable. If you don’t want to answer a particular question, that’s fine. Just let us know.”
Jimin nodded in understanding. He’d been through this how many times before? He’d lost count. Actually, Jimin had always sort of enjoyed exit interviews — it gave him the opportunity to think back to what they’d done and how he felt about it. Sometimes in his day-to-day life things happened so quickly Jimin didn’t get a chance to reflect at all. Photoshoots blended into practices blended into team meetings blended into recording sessions, without a moment in between to breathe.
This week in the forest had been all about self-reflection for Jimin. Actually, the best part of the past two years he’d spent a lot of time reflecting on his life, and the world, and his place in it, if he was being honest. Jimin had really opened his eyes, and his heart, to how his own outlook and expectations impacted how he viewed the things that happened to him — both in the past, and the present. Not only that, but he could clearly see how he might use those same principles to shape his future. This idea, this revelation, had literally changed his life — never more so than right now.
The questions the producers had put together were exactly what Jimin had expected. They always were — and while each member had an interview individually tailored to them, the questions still never varied that much. So when they asked Jimin what the most memorable part of the trip was, he was prepared for it — and he had decided to answer honestly. Mostly.
“The night of the fifth day going into the sixth day was the highlight for me,” Jimin said, carefully thinking about how to phrase things without giving away too much. “The other night — I was so happy then, having a drink with the members — it was so great, and when everyone went back inside, Jungkookie and I played around all night. We drank more, played ping-pong, ran around — and yes, I broke Jungkook's mosquito net,” he added with a laugh, “which I was running away from when I fell and got a bruise.” When the production team looked less than convinced by his story, he stressed, “And that’s what happened.” He nodded in finality, just the hint of a smirk on his face.
Two days earlier
“Want another?” Jimin asked Seokjin, lifting his hyung’s beer can and giving it a little shake, a tiny bit of liquid sloshing around at the bottom. Jimin added it to the empties he was already carrying and headed to the kitchen of the main house, placing them on the counter with the others they’d obliterated that night.
The other members had already headed to their respective bedrooms one by one, and it was only the three of them left now. The raucous laughter and animated discussions from earlier had given way to a pleasantly languid conversation, all of them mellowing out as they got drunker. From the kitchen, Jimin could hear Jungkook in the other room telling Seokjin yet another story that both Jimin and Seokjin had heard before — but that didn’t make it less funny, especially when they’d drunk as much as they’d had that night.
“Jin hyungie!” Jimin called again, paused in front of the open door of the fridge. “Beer? Yes or no?”
“No, no Jiminie, I’m done. I can’t keep up with you youngsters anymore.”
“That’s right, old man, it’s bedtime,” Jungkook said with a chuckle. Jimin surmised that Jungkook must have given Seokjin a playful smack as well, because Seokjin immediately reacted with a shocked shout.
“Yah, don’t hit me, you brat! My ancient bones could break under the force of all those muscles.”
Jimin reentered the room with an easy smile, sliding a bottle of soju over to Jungkook and putting a beer and a soju in front of his own spot. “I don’t blame you hyung, Jungkookie is getting even stronger. I guess it’s all that boxing.” Jimin leaned over, wrapping his hands around Jungkook’s bicep, squeezing. “Old people like yourself should be careful. One punch and you’d be on your back.”
Seokjin waved him off, annoyed. “Hey, it’s ok if I say I’m old, but you should respect your hyung. You’re just as bratty as Jungkook-ah here. I’m sick of it. I’m going to bed.”
“Hyung,” Jimin protested, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.”
Seokjin chuckled ruefully. “Nah, it’s ok. I’m beat. I always wake up so early in the tent, it’s so damn bright in the morning. If I stay up any longer I’ll regret it.”
“Ok, suit yourself,” Jimin said with a shrug. “Jungkookie and I are staying up.” He held his soju bottle up to Jungkook and they clinked them together in cheers.
Seokjin looked from one to the other. “Don’t stay up too late, or get too drunk. The cameras will be up and running early again tomorrow. Don’t make it any harder on the editors than you already do.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “What do you mean, hyung? We don’t do anything all of you don’t do.”
“I know you two like the back of my hand,” Seokjin laughed, “but ok, if you say so. I’m just saying — be careful.”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “You severely underestimate us, but fine. We won’t get too drunk, and we’ll be good. We’re not going to trash the house or anything.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Seokjin said, pointing at both of them. “Just a couple more days and we’ll be back home where you can do… whatever it is that you two do when you stay up all night together.”
Jungkook and Jimin shared a look and laughed. “Ok, hyung, whatever you say. Go to bed, old man,” Jungkook said with a grin.
Seokjin just shook his head as he shuffled out of the room, only slightly unsteady from the amount of alcohol in his system. “Ah, didn’t realize how much I’d drank,” he complained, hands on his head. “I’ll have a headache tomorrow for sure.”
“Lightweight,” Jimin said with a chuckle. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, his hands up in surrender, when Seokjin shot him a look.
“I’ll make you hangover ramen, hyung!” Jungkook chimed in.
Seokjin waved them off and stepped out the door. A moment later he stuck his head back in. “Rain’s stopped,” he said, nodding towards the dark yard.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, grinning at Jimin. “Rematch on the ping pong?”
“What?” Jimin said. “That’s not even fair, I’m too drunk for that. You’ll murder me for sure.”
“I’m drunk too, so we’re even,” Jungkook retorted. “C’mon, Jiminie hyung. It’ll be fun.” Jungkook stood up, bouncing excitedly as he looked at Jimin.
Jimin eyed him skeptically, but finally caved. Jungkook didn’t have to work very hard to convince Jimin of anything, really. Ever since they’d first met, all Jungkook had to do was look at Jimin with those big eyes and Jimin turned to putty in his hands. It would be embarrassing if it was anyone else, but Jungkook was just as fond of Jimin. Theirs was a friendship that seemed meant to be. “Ok, fine. But I want the side you were on before.” Jimin followed Jungkook out the door, then stooped to round up the dozens of stray ping pong balls that had rolled into every nook and cranny.
Jungkook snorted at him as he downed the rest of his soju, tossing the empty to the side. “Why? It’s the same as the other side.”
“It’s not the same,” Jimin replied, brows furrowed. “That’s my lucky side,” he explained seriously, pointing to the spot Jungkook was standing.
“Oh,” Jungkook laughed, “so that’s why I kicked your ass last time.” Jungkook grinned, switching to the opposite side and handing him a paddle. “M’sorry,” he murmured when he saw Jimin’s pout. “I won’t tease anymore. C’mon, show me what you got, Jimin-ssi.” He bounced the ball toward Jimin, setting an unopened bottle of soju by his feet.
“I’m going first?” Jimin asked, taking a long swig of his beer.
“Losers go first,” Jungkook said with a nonchalant shrug. Jimin scowled at him.
“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you,” Jimin retorted, pointing at Jungkook with his ping pong paddle. “I’m about to show you all the skills I’ve picked up the past few days.” Jimin held the ball up, preparing to drop it for his serve. He blinked, trying to clear his vision that was starting to swim, the alcohol catching up with him.
“Ok, hyung,” Jungkook said with a smirk. “Whatever you say.”
Jimin bristled. Jungkook knew exactly how to get under his skin. Jimin was about to argue, but the sight of Jungkook flailing drunkenly around as he tried to cover his giggles made Jimin soften immediately, and he found himself giggling along. “Fuck, this is going to be a nightmare,” Jimin laughed. “I’m too drunk for this. I’m gonna suck.”
“Wait, wait,” Jungkook said, reaching for the bottle. He chugged half the soju in one go, gasping and wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he’d finished. “I’ll just get drunker, then it’ll be fair, even for an amateur like you.”
“Ah, fuck off,” Jimin shouted, slamming his paddle on the table. “I won’t play at all then.” He stormed back towards the house.
“Hyung, Jiminie hyung, wait,” Jungkook appealed, grabbing Jimin’s wrist as he passed by. “I’m sorry, really,” Jimin wasn’t really all that mad, but if Jungkook knew how to get under Jimin’s skin, Jimin knew how to get under his, too. Jungkook spun him around, wrapping his arms around Jimin. Resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder, he mumbled, “Are you mad at me? I didn’t mean to push it so far.”
Before Jimin could open his mouth to tease Jungkook back, he was cut off by Seokjin’s voice piercing through the darkness. “How do you expect me to sleep with you guys yelling out there?”
Jimin giggled, burying his face in Jungkook’s chest. “Shit, I forgot all about hyung,” he said, pressing a warning finger to Jungkook’s lips. “Shhhh, he’ll kill us.”
Jungkook reached around Jimin to set his paddle down. “Maybe we shouldn’t play tonight, you know? I think we’re going to be too loud,” Jungkook said. “Rematch tomorrow instead?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow,” Jimin agreed. “C’mon, let's go drink down by the water. The moon's coming out,” he said, pointing toward the glow breaking through the previously thick clouds.
It was a good plan — except everything was soaked once they moved away from the protective overhang where the ping pong table was kept. The picnic table, the grass, the benches, and the deck around the floating house all were too wet to sit on. After much debate, they resigned themselves to pulling two of the chairs from the dining tent down to the water, slipping and sliding and tripping over each other as they wrangled the unwieldy chairs, their barely suppressed giggles earning another reprimand from Seokjin.
“You’re a grumpy old man, hyung,” Jungkook said, snickering as he passed by the tent, headed back to the house for more liquor.
“Jungkookie!” Jimin shouted as quietly as he could as he ran to catch up. “You’re making it worse.”
“Yah, listen to Jiminie! I’m gonna come out there and beat you if you don’t shut up!” Seokjin bellowed.
Jimin met up with Jungkook already on his way back down the hill, his arms loaded with beer and soju. Jimin giggled at him. “Do we need that much?” he whispered, taking an armful out of Jungkook’s grasp.
“I just grabbed what we had,” Jungkook said with a shrug. “M’not tired — I figured we’d be up for a while.”
Jimin just hummed, smiling as he watched Jungkook lope toward the floating house, his face illuminated by the moonlight. “Well, you know I’m not tired,” Jimin said, the fresh air energizing him.
“I do know,” Jungkook agreed, knocking his shoulder against Jimin’s as they walked. “Hey, do you think we’ll ever fix our sleep schedules?”
“I’m such a bad influence on you,” Jimin sighed. “Every time you try to go to bed at a reasonable hour I sabotage your efforts.” Jungkook was always ambitious to begin all sorts of self-improvement routines — learning another language or a new instrument, improving his health with intermittent fasting or taking fistfuls of supplements, new exercise routines like boxing or swimming — and, for most of the past few years, he’d tried numerous times to switch his sleeping patterns so that he could get up earlier. Unsuccessfully, thanks to Jimin.
“Nah, it’s ok,” Jungkook said. “It’s not your fault at all. Besides, I’d rather stay up with you than toss and turn all night.”
“But if you got up earlier, you could go work out in the morning, like you always say you want to,” Jimin pointed out. Guiltily, he vowed to himself that he would do more in supporting Jungkook.
Jungkook shrugged. “I can just work out with you at night, like we usually do.”
Jungkook attempted to walk backwards as he talked, but stumbled over his own feet and almost fell, only barely managing to keep ahold of the bottles in his arms. His sandals flew off in the process, and Jimin kicked his off gleefully as well. He almost fell over himself as they laughed together — the slippery grass, plus their full arms, bare feet, and the downslope conspiring against them.
“Oh my god, we’re going to kill ourselves,” Jimin gasped, relieved when his feet touched the relative safety of the wood deck surrounding the floating house.
They set the chairs up on the deck on the long side of the house near the boats, the fishing poles belonging to Seokjin and Yoongi propped up in the corner. Their conversation flowed easily, freely — just like the alcohol. Jimin didn’t know how long they sat there just talking and chatting and laughing, about anything, and everything — and nothing. He and Jungkook had been friends for so long that they could finish each other’s sentences.
Sometimes Jimin thought that he knew what Jungkook wanted before Jungkook did, and vice versa. It was a little unnerving, how their minds worked like that. Jimin had always chalked it up to all the time they spent together over such an extended period of time, but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t really think of anyone who had that kind of a bond with a friend, not anyone he knew anyway. He and Jungkook were special. Everyone told them that they envied their friendship, and Jimin couldn’t disagree with them. He knew how lucky he was.
After they’d sat for what seemed like forever, Jimin started getting antsy. They’d consumed all of the soju, their conversation becoming more animated, their speech becoming progressively more unintelligible to anyone besides themselves. “Let’s do somethin’, Jungkookie. Wha’ can we do?” he said, bounding up a little too quickly. Jimin swayed on his feet, clutching onto the metal railing to keep his balance. “Shit, m’drunker than I thought.”
“Thass what happens when y’drink—” Jungkook stopped to count on his fingers, “— three beers an’ two bottles of soju, on top of what we had b’fore, hyung.”
“Aish, you had just s’much, Kook-ah.” Jimin hung his head over the railing, watching the sluggish waves flow downstream. “M’bored, c’mon. Get up.”
“Not sure I can, Jiminie,” Jungkook said, his arms hanging off to the side, slouched in the chair with his legs splayed before him. “I’m comfortable here,” he shrugged, wiggling his bare toes, a lazy smile on his face.
“No, you can’ do that t’me!” Jimin whined. “I know you — if you keep sittin’ there your drunk ass will get tired an’ flake out on me. You said we’d stay up ‘til dawn, ’member?”
Jungkook stood slowly, rolling his shoulders as he stretched sluggishly. He stifled a yawn. “Yeah, ok. You win. Wha’ d’you want t’do?” he slurred.
Jimin thought for a minute. Ping pong, soccer, fireworks, or any other loud activity by the house was a no go, but maybe they could play down here. Wait…
“Ping pong!” Jimin said excitedly.
Jungkook laid a heavy hand on Jimin’s shoulder, shaking his head in slow, exaggerated motions. Jimin giggled — drunk Jungkook was even cuter to him than regular Jungkook, and that was saying something. “We can’t, hyung,” Jungkook pointed out. “Jin hyungie’s sleepin’, an’ he really will kill us if we wake ‘im up.”
“No, no, Kookie. Beer pong,” Jimin said proudly, hands on his hips.
“Ah, we haven’ played that n’forever. But where?”
“Here.” Jimin gestured to the deck they were sitting on. Jungkook furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why not?” Jimin asked with a laugh.
“Because iss surrounded by water, hyungie, ” Jungkook replied, looking around. “The balls’ll go ever’where.”
“No, I ‘ave a plan for that,” Jimin said confidently. “We can turn the chairs sideways t’block the balls from goin’ over the side this way,” he pointed, “an’ any goin’ this way will land in the boats.”
Jungkook didn’t seem entirely convinced but he shrugged in agreement. “Ok, why not?”
Jimin beamed at him, giving a clap and heading toward the door. “Hey, help m’grab the cups an’ ping pong balls.”
Ten chaotic minutes later they had the triangle of cups set up on the deck, with the chairs placed sideways against the railing behind it. Jimin emptied the balls, which he had cradled in his shirt all the way from the main house, into an empty bucket Seokjin used for fishing. Jungkook started popping open cans of beer, putting a few inches in each cup.
“That’s too much,” Jimin complained, peering into one.
“Never t’much,” Jungkook disagreed, his eyebrows wiggling mischievously. “S’only beer, Jiminie — an’ we’re so drunk already we’ll prob’bly miss every shot ‘nyway.”
That statement proved to be prophetic as the first five out of six missed the cups entirely. As each one rebounded every which way — bouncing on the wooden deck, off side of the house, slipping through their clumsy hands — the two laughed harder and harder. Some of the balls ended up, as Jimin had thought, in the boats — and some ended up being stopped by the chairs — but many, too many, ended up sliding underneath and landed in the lake, or dribbled off the edge, missing the boat entirely. After they’d put more than a dozen balls in the lake, Jimin began to panic — he belatedly realized they’d have to explain what happened to the balls in the morning if they were missing.
“Ah, shit, Jungkookie, we have t’get the balls back,” Jimin said, watching as they bobbed leisurely further away from the dock. “They’re gettin’ away.”
“Fuck, here, I’ll get them,” Jungkook said, opening the gate and stepping unsteadily into the boat. “Hand me the bucket.” The boat rocked dangerously as Jungkook stumbled around inside it.
Jimin passed it down, eyeing the balls further away worriedly. “Hurry,” he said.
Jungkook began grabbing the ones hovering close to the deck, leaning precariously over the edge to reach a few.
“Be careful!” Jimin admonished as Jungkook almost lost his balance and fell into the water. A few were moving away as he focused on gathering the ones closest to the boat.
Jimin stepped down to grab the net out of the boat, hoping that he’d be able to gather the balls up that way, before they got too far out into the river. As he stepped onto the side of the boat, it rocked, and his bare foot slid on the rain-slick metal. He hit his knee, hard, as he fell into the boat, knocking over Jungkook in the process.
“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, dropping the balls he was holding to rush to Jimin’s side.
“Fuck, that hurts,” Jimin whined, clutching his knee.
“Are you ok?” Jungkook said, running his hands over Jimin. “You didn’t break anything did you?” Jimin shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “Are you hurt anywhere else? You didn’t hit your head, did you?”
“No, I’m ok,” Jimin hissed as Jungkook ran his fingers over the contusion. There was a small scrape, but his knee cap had taken the brunt of the fall, and Jimin knew he’d have quite the bruise in the morning. “Shit, the balls! ” They both turned to see half a dozen balls, eerily glowing on the surface of the water, too far away from the deck even for the net. “Ah, well, fuck it,” Jimin sighed, his enthusiasm fading. “No one will miss a few, right?
Jungkook didn’t say anything, just stripped off his shirt, throwing it towards Jimin who tried to catch it mid air, but missed. Before Jimin could stop him, Jungkook dove shallowly and swam to the balls, tossing them into the boat easily where they careened around at Jimin’s feet.
Jungkook grinned at Jimin, only his head visible above the surface of the water. “Asshole,” Jimin scowled. “It’s dangerous to go diving in the water at night. What if you’d gotten hurt?”
“I didn’t get hurt though,” Jungkook chided, rocking the boat as he clambered in. Jimin clung to the sides, rattled. “See, I’m fine. Calm down,” he said, slapping his chest. “All in one piece.”
Jimin swept Jungkook’s wet hair off of his face, his hand lingering lightly on his cheek. “Don’t tell me to calm down,” Jimin huffed. “You can’t blame me for worrying. The last thing I want is to see you injured over some stupid ping pong balls,” he said seriously. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” he added, his stomach twisting at the thought.
“You’re hurt yourself, how do you think I feel?” Jungkook mumbled, running his hand delicately over Jimin’s knee. “You scared me.” He made eye contact with Jimin, and something in his gaze sent little tingles of electricity buzzing under Jimin’s skin — but then Jungkook turned away, and the moment was gone.
Between his own fall and his concern over Jungkook, Jimin’s drunkenness had faded, replaced by a pleasant hum that softened the air. He shook off his momentary disquiet, determined to not let it ruin his night. Even his knee was feeling a bit better, now that the initial shock had worn off. The clouds had cleared, leaving a chill in the night air, and Jungkook shivered in the breeze coming off the water.
“Let’s get you into something warm and dry, ‘kay?” Jimin said, running his hands over the goosebumps on Jungkook’s bare arms.
“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded, pulling his mostly dry t-shirt over his head.
Once they were inside Jungkook’s cozy room, with wooden boards on the walls and windows overlooking the lake, Jimin rummaged through Jungkook’s suitcase until he found a pair of black sweatpants. “Strip,” he demanded, handing the pants behind him without turning to look, busy digging out a long sleeved t-shirt.
Without warning, cold arms circled his waist from behind. Jungkook forcibly removed the shirt from Jimin’s hands and tossed it back into the suitcase. Jimin spun in Jungkook’s arms to see Jungkook staring down at him, eyes dark.
Jimin knew that look, was more than familiar with it after all this time. He shuddered under Jungkook’s gaze, his body reacting instinctively, as if it was second nature, just like it had so many times before. He pressed himself closer to Jungkook, hooking his arms around him in return. “Miss you, hyung,” Jungkook murmured, resting his forehead against Jimin’s. Jimin passed his hands over Jungkook’s back where wet spots blossomed on the material, while chilly water from Jungkook’s soaked shorts dripped onto his feet.
“I said strip, didn’t I?” Jimin said quietly, eyebrow arched, removing the sweatpants from Jungkook’s hands. He lifted the hem of Jungkook’s damp shirt, pulling it up and over his head, then paused, placing a small kiss on the newly inked, half-finished dragon tattoo on Jungkook’s chest. “It’s so gorgeous.” Does it itch?” Jimin asked conversationally, as if the sudden change of the air around them hadn’t made his heart thrum, as if the thought of Jungkook’s body on his didn’t make him ache with need. “Wait, are you even allowed to get it wet yet?”
Jungkook wasn’t looking at him, busy with his hands under Jimin’s shirt. His fingers slid against his skin, dipping down to the waistband of his shorts, his breath hot on Jimin’s neck. “S’fine,” he mumbled. “It’s been a few weeks now.”
“That long?” Jimin asked, surprised, catching Jungkook’s eye. “Has it been that long?” Jimin knew that Jungkook would understand what he really meant — had it really been that long since they’d fucked? They’d been so busy with rehearsals and songwriting and filming that the amount of time that had passed had slipped Jimin’s mind entirely.
The days of their everyday life flew by — and while before, when things were still new between them, they had always made the effort to find time for each other — now, it just didn’t seem to happen as often. Neither one of them had expectations that they were anything but casual, so it was ok — but Jimin felt guilty, and now that he thought about it, a bit neglected — perhaps more than a little bit.
Was he actually ok with it? Somehow, the fact that Jungkook hadn’t sought him out stung, but Jimin dismissed that thought out of hand. Placing the blame solely at Jungkook’s feet was unfair. They’d both been at fault in that respect. But now, Jimin didn’t want to stay away another second. He found that he needed, he craved to be close to Jungkook — knowing how long it had been made it worse. The intensity of his feelings left him reeling, and much more needy than he would ever admit.
“Mmm,” Jungkook hummed, his lips moving over Jimin’s neck. Tilting his head back, Jimin exposed the tender skin, gasping as Jungkook licked his way up to Jimin’s ear, taking both the lobe and Jimin’s earring into his mouth. “Told you I missed you. It’s been too long, hyung,” he whispered.
Something fluttered in Jimin’s stomach at the way he said it, lustful — and there was something softer there too, something like yearning. “It has been too long, much too long. I’m sorry, Kook-ah.” Jimin leaned up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s neck and kissing him deeply.
“Don’t be sorry,” Jungkook said against Jimin’s lips. “We’re here now.” He tugged at Jimin’s shirt and Jimin eagerly pulled it off, the chill of Jungkook’s chest a shock against his warm skin.
“Oh, you’re still in those shorts,” Jimin said, looking down at the puddle of water around Jungkook’s feet. “Why don’t you take them off?” he said, a sly grin playing on his face.
“If you insist,” Jungkook said with his little snuffly, closed-mouth laugh. He ran his hands up and down Jimin’s sides, pulling him closer by his hips, bending his mouth to Jimin’s ear. “Why don’t you help me?” he asked, his voice velvety smooth, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind Jimin’s ear.
Jimin hummed in pleasure, sliding Jungkook’s shorts and briefs down and crouching to help him step out of the sodden fabric. He made sure to brush the back of his hand against Jungkook’s half hard cock as he stood, his fingertips working upward, skimming over Jungkook’s chest, grazing across his nipples, then down his arms to his hands. Jimin moved them to his own shorts, encouraging Jungkook to remove them by arching into his touch, pressing his ass against Jungkook’s palms.
“Fuck, hyung,” Jungkook hissed, his hands sliding under the fabric and cupping Jimin’s cheeks. “The things I’m going to do to this ass. I’ve been thinking about it for days.” He removed the shorts in one fluid motion, then wrapped his arms tightly around Jimin, one hand splayed on his back, one wrapped around his hips.
“So you only missed my ass, huh? Is that it?” Jimin teased.
“No,” Jungkook mumbled, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “No, that’s definitely not all.”
Jimin captured Jungkook’s lips in a heated kiss, his arms locked around Jungkook’s neck, pulling gently at the long hair at his nape. He slowly walked them backwards until his legs hit the edge of the mattress, falling onto the bed before he realized that Jungkook had pulled out of the kiss, panicking. “Jim—”
But it was too late. Jimin fell against one of the flimsy poles holding up the mosquito net, which he had forgotten was there entirely. Flinching, he waited for a snap, a sharp crack that never came. As Jungkook pulled him up, they saw that there was a very prominent bend in the pole he’d fallen against. Jimin immediately tried to bend it back, only resulting in creating an even more ugly looking misshapen mess. He and Jungkook shared a look, and broke into a pile of giggles. Jimin ripped the whole thing off of the bed and tossed it across the room where it landed haphazardly. “Oops,” he said, covering his mouth as he looked back at Jungkook, whose attention was still focused entirely on Jimin.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook said, his lips ghosting over Jimin’s ear, hands running across Jimin’s chest, cock pressed hard in the cleft of Jimin’s ass. “Just makes things easier.” He eased himself onto the mattress, backing up until he was leaning against the wood wall. Jungkook patted the space in between his legs, and Jimin crawled over to him, settling into the open spot, sitting face-to-face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Jimin wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s hips, his hands caressed his face, his smoldering eyes drank in the man in front of him. “Sorry, this bed isn’t exactly ideal,” Jungkook murmured, leaning into Jimin’s touch.
“I don’t give two fucks about how ideal this place might be or not. I just want to be with you,” Jimin purred, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “I wanna make up for all the days we’ve spent away from each other.” Jimin connected their lips, the kiss lingering, sweet — but in the next moment, he abandoned tenderness altogether, ready to lose himself to Jungkook’s touch. He was fully hard, lust already beginning to cloud his brain, pushing out all other thoughts.
Jimin arched his back, rocking against Jungkook, seeking friction, trusting Jungkook’s strong hands to hold him. Jungkook cradled him, then bent and dragged the flat of his tongue across Jimin’s nipple, sending tiny fizzles of pleasure that went straight to Jimin’s cock. “Fuck, hyung, you’re stunning,” Jungkook hummed against Jimin’s skin, peppering kisses across his chest as he held Jimin firmly against him, grinding against him, anchoring him. “Gonna make you feel so good. So fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to see you spread open for me.”
The praise served its intended purpose, igniting a hunger that only Jungkook could satisfy. Jimin groaned and shuddered in Jungkook’s arms, body pliant as Jungkook pulled him flush, lips working their way along Jimin’s collarbone. He slung Jimin’s arms around his shoulders and reached between them, encircling both of their cocks with his large hand.
Jungkook began pumping them slowly, Jimin moaning at the feel of Jungkook’s cock against his own, at the firm pressure as Jungkook squeezed them together, at the pretty little gasps that left Jungkook’s lips as he stroked faster. Jimin hung his head in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, lips feathering across his jaw and down his neck, nipping ever-so-gently at his pulse point, always so careful to not leave marks, even though he wanted to. The urge to mark Jungkook had never felt as strong as it did tonight, but Jungkook was not Jimin’s to claim.
Jungkook pressed his thumb into the slit of Jimin’s cock, and Jimin threw his head back and gave a hoarse mewl. “Fuck, baby, ahhh — feels so good, your hands feel so good.” Wrapping his other hand more tightly around Jimin’s hip, Jungkook encouraged Jimin to rock up into his hand, now lightly gripping only Jimin’s cock. Jimin reached back, bracing himself on Jungkook’s legs, and thrust upward, the slide aided by the precum that Jungkook gathered and spread at each upstroke.
“Hyung,” Jungkook panted against his lips. “Ah, shit, Jiminie,” Jungkook whined, his eyes dark, his cock hard and leaking against his abdomen. Jimin found Jungkook’s mouth, his tongue sliding in easily, hot and desperate. He wanted, needed, more than Jungkook’s hands, more than just his touch, more than just his mouth. Jimin wanted to feel consumed. He wanted to be broken open. He wanted to stoke the fire, to make Jungkook as hungry and desperate as he was. Jungkook immediately grasped Jimin’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart, his fingers teasing around Jimin’s hole.
Jimin tugged on Jungkook’s lower lip before he slipped out of Jungkpok’s grasp, dragging his lips lower, hovering just over Jungkook’s skin, tongue trailing along Jungkook’s collarbone, his sternum, and finally capturing a nipple. Jimin swirled wetly around it with his tongue, then scraped his teeth gently over it — beneath him, Jungkook moaned prettily, arching into the touch. “Always so sensitive,” Jimin murmured, the fingers on his other hand rolling Jungkook’s other nipple between them, tugging, pinching. Jimin suckled at them, alternating back and forth — worshipping them, abusing them, knowing how much Jungkook enjoyed it, watching as Jungkook began to come unglued at just that little bit of Jimin’s touch.
Eyes blown out, Jungkook tangled one hand in Jimin’s hair while the other firmly stroked his own cock, his gaze never leaving Jimin. “Hyung,” he whined, and Jimin gave one last little lick before smirking at Jungkook.
“Your nipples are so pretty, Jungkookie,” Jimin said, brushing a fingertip over them, shiny with his saliva, red and swollen from his attention. “I can’t see them without wanting to suck on them.” He traced his fingertips over the smooth curves of Jungkook’s broad chest, the dips and valleys of Jungkook’s abs, his touch feather light, one hand finding the dip of Jungkook’s slim waist and resting there. Jungkook squirmed, his skin breaking into goosebumps, moaning when Jimin skimmed his fingers over the head of his cock, slick with precome.
“I know what you’re doing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, flinging his head back.
“What am I doing?” Jimin asked innocently, his fingers running up and down the sides of Jungkook’s cock, barely making contact. Jungkook gasped, his whole body twitching at Jimin’s touch.
“You’re making me crazy, Jimin, and you fucking like it.” Jungkook covered his eyes with his fists, breathing heavily.
“I do. I do like it,” Jimin said sassily, a wicked grin on his lips. “I want — I’ll tell you what I want, Jungkookie.” He drawled out Jungkook’s name, teasingly, tauntingly. “I want you to really want it. I want you to beg to fuck me. Want you to fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” Before Jungkook could respond, Jimin was on his knees between Jungkook’s legs, ass in the air, mouth poised above his cock, one eyebrow arched.
Jungkook groaned, his hips bucking up, desperate for contact, mouth fallen open. “This?” Jimin asked, laying his tongue flat on Jungkook’s cock and licking a thick stripe up the underside. “Is this what you want, baby?” He licked his tongue delicately over the tip as he watched Jungkook’s face contort.
“Yes,” Jungkook gasped. “Need your lips, oh god, please.”
Wordlessly, Jimin took Jungkook into his mouth, sinking slowly around him. His hand gripped the base of his cock tightly as he began to move, bobbing his head slowly, taking his time. Jungkook’s cock felt heavy on his tongue, and he swirled around it, his lips stretched around his girth. Jungkook fisted the sheets as Jimin began to bob more quickly, pumping his hand in rhythm, humming around his cock. “Fuck, Jimin, fuck—”
Without warning, Jimin released him with a pop, his mouth and chin slick with saliva and precome. His tongue ran over his lips, licking up what he could reach, wiping the rest carelessly on the back of his hand. Jungkook whined, his hand grasping his cock and stroking it frantically. Jimin removed it, gently but firmly. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, tutting flirtatiously. “Where do you have the lube?”
Jungkook pointed toward his black bag, and Jimin scrambled off of him to retrieve the small bottle and a condom. By the time he’d returned Jungkook was sitting back on his knees, patting the mattress where he’d previously been laying — an invitation, full of intent and purpose. Jimin laid on his back in front of him, legs slightly open, arms above his head, lip tucked between his teeth, eyes hooded — giving up physical control, or at least the illusion of it. He let Jungkook take the power, but not his emotions; let him have his body, but not his heart.
Usually that was how it went — Jimin never allowed himself to let go completely, never quite fell headlong into the emotional side of sex with Jungkook. He held himself back, allowing himself to enjoy the experience, the pleasure — to let himself use and be used, but without attachment and expectations. Something about the switch he could flip, from teasing and demanding, to exposed, malleable, vulnerable — Jimin enjoyed that. He thrived on that dichotomy within their relationship — the give and take, and the fine balance of the line they teetered on, between friends and lovers, between playful and passionate.
Tonight, though — tonight it felt different. As Jimin watched the way Jungkook drank in the lines and curves of his body, the body that Jimin had so carefully displayed — as Jimin saw the way Jungkook’s breath hitched when Jimin dragged his tongue across his lips, and the way his own stomach felt when Jungkook murmured praises only to him, only for Jimin’s ears, only in these moments — he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hold himself back anymore.
What would happen if he truly let himself feel — all of it? Let himself go, let Jungkook in, let the pieces fall where they may? Surrendering to him, in more ways than one. Surrendering, giving himself over completely — the thought alone seemed thrilling, dangerous. Very dangerous — and yet, Jimin thought that maybe, in the end, it would feel more like a warm bath and crisp sheets at the end of a long day, like someone whispering a lullaby and playing with your hair until you fell asleep. Not dangerous at all.
Not scary, or difficult — or wrong. It would feel right, it could feel right — it did feel right. And the truth of that, and what that would mean, and how little it would take for him to get there — in an instant, Jimin’s heart cracked open, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to put it back together in the same way, never again. Jimin was breathless, blinking back tears that he hoped Jungkook wouldn’t notice.
Jungkook’s eyes raked Jimin’s body, his hands reverently moving over Jimin’s skin — up from his feet, over his thighs, up his chest, cupping around the nape of his neck. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his hand caressing Jimin’s cheek and threading through his hair before leaning in for a kiss that Jimin could only describe as luscious. It was wet, and passionate, and Jungkook hungrily claimed Jimin’s lips, running his tongue over them, licking into his mouth, tugging Jimin’s lips between his teeth. Jimin was powerless, swept up in the slide of their lips, in the feel of Jungkook’s firm muscles under his hands, in Jungkook’s growl as he said, “Knees up for me, hyung.” Jimin was powerless — and for once, that idea didn’t scare him.
Jungkook slicked his fingers, rubbing slow circles around Jimin’s hole, peppering kisses on his thighs. Jimin gasped as one finger penetrated, slowly moving in and out. As soon as he felt Jimin bearing down around it, Jungkook added another — his free hand coming up to pinch Jimin’s nipple, his long fingers deep inside, stretching Jimin open, dragging along his walls, brushing against his prostate teasingly. Jimin moaned, rocking down onto his fingers, chanting “there, there” but Jungkook stayed away — he could give it out as well as he could take it, and he too wanted Jimin on edge, wanting him, desperate, keening with desire. Jungkook added a third, Jimin watching as his fingers plunged into him, a throaty moan escaping his lips.
Jimin knocked Jungkook’s hand away, leaving his hole gaping, open, waiting. He didn’t need to utter a word — Jungkook ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it down quickly and slathering lube on it. “Want this?” he asked Jimin huskily — confident, cocky, merciless. Sliding a pillow under Jimin’s ass, he pushed one knee up hard and lined himself up. Jimin nodded, not trusting his voice, not wanting to give away how needy he felt — but more, how emotional he was feeling.
Jimin clutched at Jungkook’s arm as Jungkook entered him cautiously, watching his face. Jungkook was an attentive lover — always careful, always checking in. It wasn’t in Jungkook’s nature to be thoughtless about Jimin’s needs, his comfort — but it only went so far. Just as it had always been with Jimin — this thing between them wasn’t about feelings — it was just friends getting each other off, plain and simple. Jimin tried to remind himself of that, remind himself not to get caught up in the tenderness, not to believe that the passionate kisses and gentle touches and whispered intimacies hinted at a deeper connection than what it clearly was.
A little squeeze of his hand and a nod from Jimin, and Jungkook began to move, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, setting a slow but steady pace, bottoming out with each stroke. Jimin groaned at the fullness, tilting his hips up even higher, throwing a leg over Jungkook’s shoulder, fingers reaching up to graze across Jungkook’s nipples. “Harder,” he gasped, clutching at the sheets to anchor himself as Jungkook began thrusting with force, Jungkook’s high pitched moans going straight to Jimin’s cock. “Louder,” he whimpered.
“Fuck, Jimin, you’re so tight — ah, you feel so good around me. So perfect, there’s no one like you.” Jungkook continued a string of praises, Jimin’s heart racing at his words, his eyes fluttering shut. The way Jungkook pounded into him anchored his body to the earth, while his mind floated somewhere above. Somewhere where no earthly concerns could touch him. Somewhere where the only thing Jimin could hear was Jungkook whispering pretty words meant only for him, and the sound of their ragged breathing, and the echoes of letting go reverberating in Jimin’s head.
“That’s right — ah, right there,” Jimin keened, writhing as Jungkook hit his prostate dead on. Jimin’s eyes rolled back in his head, arching off the bed, clutching at Jungkook’s arms. “So— good,” Jimin choked out. “So good— to me.”
Jungkook gave Jimin’s thigh a little tap, murmuring, “Turn over,” as he pulled out. Jimin obeyed, getting on his knees, ass in the air. “Did you say you wanted me to fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk tomorrow?” Jungkook hummed, running his hands over Jimin’s round ass, passing over his hole and up to his lower back. Jimin squirmed at his touch, little shockwaves passing just under his skin, gasping as Jungkook teased the head of his cock around Jimin’s empty hole.
“Yeah, fuck yes,” Jimin croaked, voice hoarse, wiggling his ass in invitation. “Show me, Jungkook-ah. Show me how much you want me.” He pushed himself back against Jungkook, waiting, waiting to lose himself completely.
Gripping his hips like a vice, Jungkook plunged in, bottoming out in one stroke, and began thrusting — relentless, brutal. One hand was on the small of Jimin’s back — the other gripped Jimin’s chin, where he inserted his thumb between already parted lips. Jimin moaned, drooling as he swirled his tongue up and over it, whimpering as Jungkook hit his prostate over and over.
Jimin yanked hard on his own cock, the pressure behind his belly mounting. “Like this, you like it like this — don’t you Jimin-ah, like me fucking you hard like this?” Jungkook slurred, his breathing ragged. “You’re so beautiful— so perfect— take my cock so well,” he said as he kissed his way up Jimin’s spine, slowing his pace, trying to prolong it, driving Jimin a little mad.
“No, I’m so close, so close, don’t stop,” Jimin begged, but Jungkook only wrapped an arm around Jimin’s chest, lowering himself until they were flush together, boldly biting at the juncture of Jimin’s neck and shoulder before laving his tongue over it. “Ahh,” Jimin cried, gasping at the sting. “Too hard — it’ll leave a mark.”
“What if I want everyone to know?” Jungkook breathed against his ear, licking around the shell, taking it into his mouth and sucking. Jimin shivered at his tone, at the barely veiled implication, at the way it made his stomach swirl. Jungkook moved his cock in slow circles inside Jimin, then pulled Jimin up onto his knees, still held close, not an inch of space between them. Jimin could feel Jungkook’s heart hammering against his back as he settled on Jungkook’s lap, clutching at Jungkook’s arm that was still holding him strongly.
Jimin began moving, bouncing frantically, still chasing his orgasm. Jungkook thrust up to meet him, his free hand pumping Jimin’s cock. “Come for me,” he murmured into Jimin’s flushed skin. “Come for me, Jimin-ah.”
Jimin turned his head, capturing Jungkook’s lips in a needy kiss, shoving his tongue in, devouring him as his orgasm hit. His body stuttered, arching back into Jungkook’s embrace as he came all over Jungkook’s hand and their thighs. Jimin’s broken moans echoed off the walls as Jungkook stroked him through it, kissing his shoulders softly, and finally releasing his hold as Jimin fell forward onto the bed. Jungkook slammed into him three, four times, and then tipped over the edge. He came with a low, loud groan of Jimin’s name, filling the condom and collapsing forward, breath heavy on Jimin’s skin.
His arms shaking, Jungkook pulled out, leaving a flurry of open mouthed kisses over Jimin’s back and ass before standing to tie off the condom and dispose of it. Jimin rolled to his side, watching Jungkook move, watching how his muscles undulated just under his skin, at the stark black ink against his skin, at his hair that was once again so long it hung in his eyes.
Jungkook returned with a small towel and a bottle of water. “M’sorry,” he mumbled, “there’s no bathroom down here. Sorry if it’s cold.” Jungkook poured water from the bottle onto the towel, cleaning Jimin off first, then himself, pitching it across the room when he was done.
“C’mere,” Jimin said, arms outstretched, pulling the comforter up and over them once Jungkook was snuggled up beside him. “That was amazing,” he said with a gentle kiss to Jungkook’s lips. “You always make me feel so good.” Jimin slung a leg over Jungkook’s hips and pulled him closer, delicately removing damp locks of hair off of Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook was quiet beside him, his eyes taking in Jimin’s face, finally landing on his lips. He raised his index finger, gently sliding it over Jimin’s red and swollen lips.
“Can I — can I kiss you?” Jungkook asked quietly, hesitantly — a question that Jimin didn’t fully understand. They had literally just fucked — and if that wasn’t permission, Jimin didn’t know what was.
“Wh—? Of course you can, you don’t need to ask me something like that,” Jimin responded, holding his breath as he waited, wondering.
Jungkook slowly leaned in, never breaking the intense eye contact, his lips meeting Jimin’s with a tenderness he hadn’t expected. It made Jimin’s head spin. It was only a single kiss — no pressure, no ulterior motives behind it, nothing more than a simple kiss. But a kiss, a moment, that seemed to express so many unsaid things — things that Jimin wasn’t sure he could allow himself to contemplate. It wasn't part of their arrangement, this catching feelings thing that he knew he’d been doing. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it. Moments like this made him weaker, but he reminded himself that Jungkook didn’t feel the same way. It was just the afterglow of sex, the closeness they always felt after sharing such a passionate moment together — wasn’t it?
“Hyung?” Jungkook murmured, his hand reaching for Jimin’s under the covers, twining their fingers together, his eyes searching.
Jimin was afraid, and he didn’t know the words, and he made a split second decision that he knew he’d regret the moment he’d done it. “Shhh. It’s late Jungkookie, we can talk in the morning. Let’s sleep.” Jimin looked away, trying to pretend he didn’t see the way Jungkook’s face faltered and fell at the dismissal, trying to pretend that those words didn’t feel like he’d stabbed himself in the heart.
Jungkook’s breathing was even and slow, his face softened with sleep, mouth open — and Jimin kept staring at him. He hadn’t slept at all, his mind turning over what had happened that night, had been happening over the past few months, creeping up on him, unexpected but not entirely unsurprising.
There wasn’t anything anyone could find to dislike about Jungkook, after all — his heart was pure, his mind was sharp — his body was amazing, of course — and spending time with him made Jimin happier than anything else. They’d been friends for years, long before that night how many years before — had it really been two years? — when they’d turned to each other in need and then vowed it would never happen again.
But it did happen, again and again. Finally, instead of pretending they would magically stop fucking each other at every opportunity — after all, why stop when it felt so good, when they were so compatible, when it was so easy? — they’d sat down and talked, coming to an understanding. Friends, fuck buddies, nothing more. No feelings, no expectations, no exclusivity.
They’d stuck to that pact over the years — Jimin had been somewhat seriously involved with someone else for a while, and he knew Jungkook had had at least one guy he saw off and on sometimes. Jimin hadn’t been jealous about it — there was no room for that in their friendship, and they had no desire to complicate things or make things uncomfortable. They couldn’t afford that. And it had worked. It had worked amazingly well — until now. Until Jimin suddenly wanted more.
He slipped out of bed carefully, bare feet silent on the hardwood as he stepped out onto the deck, gulping in deep lungfuls of the cool night air. It cleared his head, and Jimin pulled one of the chairs upright and sank into it with a sigh.
The deck of the floating house was bathed in a milky glow, the gently flowing river reflecting the moon in little dips and curls, lapping against the rocking boats. Jimin leaned back in his chair, listening to the frog chorus as he silently watched the clouds pass over the moon, his mind drifting along with the waves. Like so many nights, he contemplated the universe, and his place in it — and wondered if fate really did put certain people on your path, people you were destined to meet. Ones that could become your family by choice — or maybe someone with whom you could share a rare, incomparable kind of love.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard the door open and the padding of soft footsteps. “Jimin-ah?” Jungkook said sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” Something must have shown in Jimin’s eyes, because Jungkook took a step closer, asking more anxiously, “Is everything ok?”
Jimin didn’t respond to his question, instead asking his own. “Jungkookie?” Jimin asked, without taking his eyes off the sky. “What’s been the best part of being here for you?”
Jungkook blinked, taken aback at the sudden question, stopping mid stride. “Um. Best thing I’ve done here? Or best thing about being here?” He set up the other chair a few feet away from Jimin and settled into it, resting his hands on his knees.
“Both,” Jimin said, running his hand through his hair. The light from the moon cast everything in a blue glow. It made Jimin feel peaceful, even though his heart was racing. They were both facing the water, which Jimin was grateful for. It made it easier to talk this way, when he didn’t have to look at Jungkook’s face — imagining that his fond smile meant something more.
Jimin snuck a glance over to see Jungkook looking up at the moon, the light from it bouncing off the smooth planes of his face — he looked like he was glowing from within, his profile bathed in silver. Jimin’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. He’d always thought Jungkook was handsome, complimented his looks, praised his body, his muscles — but somehow Jimin had never seen him like this. Gorgeous. Literally breathtaking. It was if his eyes were finally open — and now that he’d accepted his feelings, he saw everything about Jungkook in a new light.
“Painting. I love being able to paint,” Jungkook said with a shrug. “It’s something I never make the time to do — art, I mean. It seems so — i don’t know, self indulgent, I guess, when we’re so busy working.”
Jimin nodded. “I know what you mean. There isn’t time in our lives for much of anything else.”
Jungkook was quiet — but Jimin could almost hear him thinking. “What about you?” Jungkook asked. “You have such a hard time shutting off from work,” he added, his eyes searching Jimin’s with concern. “Are you feeling ok — being here? Staying in this place, with no schedule? Just lounging, resting — being?”
Jimin didn’t have to think too hard about it. “I’m feeling great, actually,” he said. “Something about being here, my perspective, maybe? — I feel like it has shifted somehow. I’m relearning how to appreciate everything, everyone,” he emphasized, “around me. Does that seem dumb, or weird, or whatever? It’s only been what, five days? I feel like I’ve had the time and space to allow myself to truly think. To think about what’s important to me, and how to be better at prioritizing it.” You, Jimin thought to himself. You are what’s important to me, and I’ve only just realized how much.
“That’s not dumb, hyung,” Jungkook said earnestly. “Sometimes it’s the little things that make the most impact on your life, even when you take them for granted or don’t realize how important they are at the time. You can only look back and see it later, looking back from a different point of view.”
Jungkook placed a hand on Jimin’s knee, giving it a squeeze. Jimin flinched at the touch, and Jungkook removed it at once. “Oh, shit, I forgot. I’m so sorry. How does it feel?” Jimin could see the bruise forming even in the dim light, and he knew Jungkook could, too. Jungkook’s brow knit together in worry, and he gently ran his hand over Jimin’s knee, carefully avoiding the small scrape.
Jimin grimaced. “It hurts, especially now that the alcohol has worn off. And, um, I wasn’t exactly careful with it, you know, um, before,” Jimin said, uncharacteristically shy talking about the fact that he and Jungkook had just had sex, even though it had happened probably hundreds of times before. He felt his cheeks heat up and wondered if Jungkook had noticed that as well. “But I’ll be ok, don’t worry,” he added, hoping to erase the frown still present on Jungkook’s face.
Jimin was silent for a minute, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair in a random rhythm. “So besides painting, what do you like about actually being here?” He wasn't sure where he was going with all the questions, but he had this need to connect to Jungkook right now, in a way that wasn’t sexual. Jimin wanted to feel the warm glow he got whenever he was able to talk to Jungkook like this. He wanted to feel that innate way they had of understanding each other, in a way that no one else could.
Jungkook looked to the sky, smiling. “The best part of being here? There isn’t one thing that stands out. It’s all the little things.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I like being surrounded by nature. Being able to see the sky clearly, and just breathing in the fresh air — not like it is in Seoul. I like seeing the hyungs — everyone, including you — having fun in their own way. We have fun when we all hang out together — but even when we’re separate, doing our own things, it just makes me happy seeing everyone happy — relaxed. It’s been such a stressful year. We all deserve some peace.”
Nodding, Jimin looked out at the waves and thought about how different this summer was from all the previous ones. “A lot different than last year, that’s for sure.”
“I’m really glad you got to travel last summer, Jiminie,” Jungkook said, soothing his hand over Jimin’s knee again. “Who knows when you’ll get a chance to do that again? Especially now, with most travel shut down for the foreseeable future.”
“I had fun, that’s true.” Jimin hesitated — each movement, each word, seeming to have more importance now — but put his hand on top of Jungkook’s anyways, trying to be casual about it. “But, honestly, I sorta wish I’d stayed home a little more, spent time relaxing like this, instead of being on the go all the time. Maybe I would’ve been just as happy spending time at home with you. We could have gone to Busan together.”
Jungkook chuckled. “But you have me all of the time, hyung. Traveling the world — you’ve always wanted to do that.”
“I still wish you’d agreed to come with me — to Hawaii, at least. We — we would have had fun,” Jimin remarked.
“It’s — traveling isn’t really my thing, hyung, you know that. I hope you understand it wasn’t personal.” Before Jimin could protest, Jungkook added, “I’m glad you went anyway. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get to live your life the way you want. Wait, are you saying you regret going now? I hope not. Life is too short for regrets.”
Jimin smiled at Jungkook, the memories of the conversation they’d had ten months prior flooding back. “No, never. I would never regret going, I just wish I— I mean, you and me both,” he corrected, “had more of this.” Jimin gestured, his hands moving to encompass the entire scene around them. “What we’re doing now — more time where we can be just us. No schedules, no press to worry about, no managers or meetings or stylists.”
Jungkook laughed, running his hands through his soft floppy hair. “No stylists? So you like this look on me, huh? I look like more and more of a wreck every day we’re away from home,” he laughed, his face breaking into a wide grin.
“You never look bad, Jungkookie, even when you’re as grubby as grubby can be,” Jimin said, his head lolling to the side to look at Jungkook. “I’m no better.” Jimin pushed his hair back, then shook it into his eyes again with a chuckle. “I’m like a shaggy dog.”
“You’re definitely better looking than me. No one holds a candle to you, hyung, no matter what,” Jungkook said, maintaining eye contact for a beat too long. “You’re always beautiful to me.” Butterflies erupted in Jimin’s stomach and he closed his eyes, his mind in turmoil.
Jimin tried to take his emotions out of it. He was definitely reading too much into Jungkook’s words, into the looks between them. He was imagining the tenderness, taking ordinary moments and making more of them because it was what he wanted to see, not because it was true. Jimin stayed that way — eyes closed, focusing on his breathing, willing himself to find some courage — for what seemed like an eternity. For his part, Jungkook didn’t say anything either, but Jimin felt his gaze heavy on him and he wondered what exactly Jungkook was thinking.
Finally, Jimin took a deep breath and spoke, asking the question that had been haunting him. “What— what are we doing?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper, cracking when he met Jungkook’s eyes.
“What do you mean, hyung?” Jungkook replied carefully, hesitantly.
“Us,” Jimin said, his voice coming out a breathy croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Us,” Jimin repeated emphatically, wanting to be clear. “What are we doing? Right now? Before— I mean, everything. Fuck. ” He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “We’re friends, we fuck — what exactly are we doing?”
“Are you — are you unhappy? With us — with me?” Jungkook said, his shoulders slumping. The mood had shifted from light and contemplative to instantly dark, and heavy, and uncomfortable. Jimin’s stomach dropped when he saw Jungkook’s face crumple and the light go out of his eyes. Jungkook shifted in his seat as he said, “Or, wait. Are you getting back together with—”
“No, no. That is over for good. Thank god.” Jimin gave a wry chuckle. “It’s not that, Jungkook-ah.” Better to get it out in the open, Jimin thought. No matter what happens, he deserves to know. “I suppose... maybe I am unhappy. Or not unhappy, um... discontent? Maybe I’m just confused. I don’t know.”
“What are you discontent… or, uh, confused about?” Jungkook asked, his voice tight as he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists in his lap.
“Our — arrangement,” Jimin said, gulping. “Our agreement . I don’t — I don’t think I feel the same way I did when we started this whole thing.”
Jungkook visibly flinched, leaning away from Jimin. “Oh. Ok, I get it. We can go back to being just friends, regular friends — that’s ok, you know?” He smiled, but Jimin could tell that it was forced, and he once again wondered what was going on in Jungkook’s head. “We don’t have to have sex if that’s not what you want, hyung. Our friendship is more important. We never — I mean, we didn’t expect that this would go on forever, I don’t think.”
Ignoring Jungkook’s apparent misunderstanding for the moment, Jimin asked, “Have you — are you seeing anyone else?” He would never want to disrupt or complicate things for Jungkook if he was already seeing someone. Jungkook hadn’t mentioned anything, or anyone, to Jimin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone, either. Jimin braced himself for the answer, that same possessive impulse making rearing its ugly head again, just like it had earlier. He wanted Jungkook for himself. He didn’t want to share him.
“Oh, no. I’m not. I haven’t been,” Jungkook said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Not for a long time, honestly.”
Jimin was surprised. He knew plenty of people with more than a passing interest in Jungkook — he really could have his pick, if he wanted. “Why not? You’ve dated before.”
Jungkook shook his head and chewed on his lip nervously. “I, uh, I don’t know if I would call it dating. Hooking up, I guess? But um, I never—”
Jimin waited for him to continue, but Jungkook had snapped his mouth shut, and didn’t seem inclined to finish that thought. “You never what, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin asked gently. “It’s ok, you can talk to me.”
Jungkook gulped. “It was never the same. Sex with other guys, um, it was ok, but,” he broke off, lifting his gaze to meet Jimin’s, “it was — it wasn’t like it is when I’m with you. I guess I just, sorta… lost interest. In sleeping with anyone else,” he finished, his voice wavering.
“Lost interest? But Jungkookie, maybe you’d be more compatible with someone else? Maybe you just haven’t been with the right guy yet. Why not keep trying? There are a lot of people out there,” Jimin said, his heart in his throat. One part of Jimin selfishly wanted to keep Jungkook all to himself, but the truth was that he would never want Jungkook to think he had no other options. Jimin didn’t want him to think that he had to settle for an occasional fuck with someone he didn’t love any more than as a friend. No, Jimin wanted Jungkook to know real, true love — wanted him to fall in love, wanted him to spend every day with that one person who made his heart sing. Even if it wasn’t Jimin.
“No,” Jungkook replied, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, mindlessly staring at a spot on the deck. “No, it’s been months now, and I don’t, I haven’t—” Jungkook met Jimin’s eyes, and even in the dark, Jimin could see the uncertainty in his gaze. “It wasn’t that I didn’t find the right guy yet. I did. It’s just that — it’s you, Jimin-ah. I only want you, hyung. There isn't anyone else.”
Jimin stopped breathing, unsure if he was understanding Jungkook properly. What he saw before him was a Jungkook who looked like he was about to cry — was it from sadness, from confusion, from fear? Jimin didn’t know. What he did know is that he had to be honest, with himself, and with Jungkook. Maybe Jungkook only meant that he didn’t want to have sex with anyone else, but it was time for Jimin to tell him that he himself wanted, that he needed, for their relationship to move past that.
He reached over the short span between them to take Jungkook’s hand. “What if — what if I told you that I’m not seeing anyone else either, and that I don't want to? What if I — I said I wanted us to be exclusive?”
Jungkook snapped his head up. “What are you saying?”
“I’m—” Jimin began, taking deep breaths to calm himself, “what I’m saying is that you’re not the only one that feels that way. I think — Jungkook-ah, I think my feelings have moved well beyond just wanting to be friends with you, just wanting to fuck you — and I’m way past not caring if you’re fucking someone else. I want you with me, only me . And not only that — I want more. I need more. Not just friends, not just sex. More.” Jungkook was quiet, and Jimin fervently hoped that he was making some sort of sense, that Jungkook understood his very awkward, poorly stated confession. “Jungkookie, baby, I hope, I want — I want you to feel the same way. About me.”
Jungkook blinked at him, and let out a long, slow breath. “I do,” he whispered. “Jiminie, I do feel that way about you. I want more, too. I didn’t— I didn’t know. I thought — fuck, I thought you were happy with what we had. I thought that you wanted it this way. I convinced myself that you did, and that I could be content with our relationship, our arrangement — that it was enough . For me, and for you.”
“It’s not enough,” Jimin breathed, “not anymore.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened, and he clung hard to Jimin’s hand. “So now what?” he asked quietly. “What — what are we?” He cleared his throat. “I mean... what I mean hyung is, what do you want us to be?”
Jimin shrugged. “I don’t really know. I know what I want it to be. It’s just — do we have to, um, define it, right now? This is all so new. I’m not sure what it will mean, for us.” He smiled at Jungkook, who returned it, and to Jimin’s newly opened eyes it was as if he’d never seen Jungkook smile at him before. His stomach bubbled in excitement as reality began to sink in, but he was trying to be practical and not rush into something he wasn’t prepared to deal with. “We have other people to think about, too. I just — can we just be together, and take some time to figure things out?”
“That’s ok, hyung. I can do that,” Jungkook said, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “I’m willing to wait until you’re comfortable, or until we both are, whenever that is.” Jimin hummed in contemplation. He hadn’t thought about anything past this moment, and he hadn’t even thought about that much to begin with. What did he want? Putting aside all the concerns about other people and the group and the company and their families — what did he, Park Jimin want? How did he picture what it might look like to actually be free to be with Jungkook, in all the ways that mattered?
“Maybe I do know what I want, after all,” he said, his voice sure and steady. “Jungkook-ah, I want to kiss you without it having to be about sex. I want to share everything that we have now — be your best friend, laugh and spend time together — but also, I want to feel like you want me, all of me. Not just as a friend, not just as a sexual partner, but as someone you might have a future with.” Jimin stopped, realizing that he might have gone too far. “Is that too much? Thinking about a — a future? Because I feel like I might fall in love with you, Jungkookie. Is that — does that scare you?”
Jungkook shook his head. “No, actually, it doesn’t,” he said, chewing on his lip, playing with Jimin’s fingers. His eyes met Jimin’s, shining with an intensity that Jimin didn’t recognize. It sucked all the breath out of Jimin’s lungs, and he swore he could feel the earth come to a screeching halt as he waited for Jungkook to speak again, his heart pounding in his ears. “Would it — would it scare you if I told you — Jimin-ah, I think I might already be in love with you.”
“Wait. What?” The world spun out of control now, the only thing still and solid was Jungkook — Jungkook, who was holding Jimin’s hand; Jungkook, who was holding Jimin’s heart. “Jungkook-ah — you are? You do? You’re sure?” Jimin said, his eyes suddenly welling with tears. “You— you love me? You’re in love with me?” he stammered.
Jungkook nodded quickly, his bottom lip quivering, his hand shaking in Jimin’s. Jimin covered it with his other one, rubbing it soothingly, gulping back his tears. Jungkook brought Jimin’s hand to his mouth, kissing it with trembling lips. “I think, no. I’m sure. I’m really sure. There’s no one like you, and I don’t think there ever will be. Not for me, not ever. You — you are everything I ever wanted, Jiminie. You are my everything. I feel — I can’t even believe that you want me the same way I want you. I feel like I can’t breathe.”
Cupping Jungkook’s cheek, Jimin said, “I do. ” Tracing his fingertips over Jungkook's face, he took in the features that he had long since memorized. Jimin’s fingers ended at Jungkook’s lips, his fingers lingering on the soft fullness, Jungkook’s warm breath on his skin. “I do want you, all of you.” Jimin searched Jungkook’s eyes, which were open, full, sincere — and he choked back a sob. “Ah, dammit, you’re not supposed to make me cry,” Jimin complained, wiping at his tears with a smile.
“You always cry,” Jungkook said fondly. “You’re such a softie, Jiminie, admit it.”
“Never,” Jimin said. “Lies.” He hid his face with his hands, embarrassed. There was a scrape of metal against the wet boards, and suddenly warm arms were wrapped around him, Jungkook humming into his hair. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Jimin murmured, leaning backward awkwardly and almost losing his balance and tipping the chair in the process.
Jungkook caught him before he could fall, and they both laughed, wide smiles plastered to their faces. “Let’s do this properly,” Jimin said, stepping around the chair and launching himself into Jungkook’s arms.
Before Jimin could capture the lips of the man who loved him — loved him, all of him — Jungkook stopped him, moving his hand to caress Jimin’s cheek. “Whatever happens next, no regrets, ok? Promise me.”
Jimin leaned into his touch, his eyes closing with a smile — peaceful, content. He snapped his eyes open, giving Jungkook a mischievous grin. “Fuck no. Zero regrets,” Jimin replied with a giggle. He surged forward then, finally, kissing the lips that were so familiar, that he knew so well, and yet held new secrets — secrets that Jimin was eager to explore the boundaries of. Were there even boundaries? Were there places that they couldn’t go, heights they couldn’t reach together? Jimin didn’t know, but diving into the deep end — with his best friend, with his lover, with his Jungkookie — felt good.
Present Time
Jimin turned to Jungkook, who was standing in the doorway, silently watching the interview. “So?” Jimin asked him, tilting his head in question. “What do you think?”
“Sounded good to me,” Jungkook said with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I think you, uh, covered it all. I don’t think you need to add anything more.”
Jimin turned to the producer, asking, “Is that all? Are we done?” He didn’t wait for a response, already grabbing his bag and stuffing his phone inside, eager to get to Jungkook.
“If you want to be done, Jimin-ssi, we can be,” the man said with a smile and a nod, reviewing the tape. “I think we have enough footage.”
“Ok, great. I’ll be leaving then. Thank you,” Jimin said with a small bow, already across the room and shuffling into his shoes.
The grey from the previous day had moved on, and the sun was blinding as Jimin stepped out the door. He squinted against the bright light, hanging onto Jungkook as he stumbled forward. “I already loaded your suitcase into the car,” Jungkook said, taking Jimin’s small bag from him and slinging it over his own shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re ok to drive, Jiminie?”
“I’m fine,” Jimin replied. Frowning, he protested, “I can carry that, I’m not that injured,” reaching to grab his bag off of Jungkook’s shoulder.
“I know,” Jungkook said with a grin. “I want to.” They walked down the slope in silence, Jungkook slightly in front of Jimin, down the hill toward the car that would take them back to reality — a bit of a scary prospect, now that Jimin considered it. Jimin hugged Jungkook from behind, standing on tiptoe to bury his face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck. “Jungkookie,” he mumbled. “Wait a minute.”
“What’s up? Are you — is your knee feeling ok?” Jungkook asked, stopping mid stride and wrapping one hand around Jimin’s. “Do you need me to help you, or—”
“No, my knee is feeling better,” Jimin murmured. “It’s not about that. I just—”
“Just?” Jungkook asked, raising his eyebrows with concern.
“I’m… nervous. More like scared, actually,” Jimin confessed. “I don’t know how to do this.” Jimin dropped his arms, where they hung limply by his sides. “What if I mess up? What if it doesn’t work, what if we don’t work, or—”
Jungkook turned to face him, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly. “Then we’ll figure it out, ok? It’s not like we have to suddenly change things.” He tilted his head, trying to catch Jimin’s eye. “It’s ok if we take our time — or if you need to take your time. Besides, I’m nervous, too. Shit, I don’t know how to do this either. Everything’s changed. It’s all new, for both of us.” He grabbed Jimin’s hand. “You’re not in this alone, you know that, right?”
Jimin took his hand. “Right,” he agreed, giving a firm nod. “Together. We’ll figure it out together. No regrets. Zero.” Jungkook squeezed his hand back and beamed at him. “It’s just — wow. It hasn’t sunk in yet. I keep having to remind myself that it’s real,” Jimin said.
“I really wish I could kiss you right now,” Jungkook whispered against Jimin’s ear, and a shiver went down Jimin’s spine. “Maybe that would help you remember that this is real, that you and I are real.”
“I wonder what everyone would say if you did,” Jimin giggled, looking around. There were staff everywhere — packing things up, loading up SUVs, wandering around on phones. The solitude and quiet of the past week, the happy bubble they’d all stayed within, had burst, and the regular mayhem of Jimin and Jungkook’s everyday lives came thundering back to them. “I’d love to see their faces.”
Jungkook grinned at him. “Well, maybe someday we’ll find out. I probably won’t be able to resist kissing you forever, regardless of who happens to be around.”
Jimin laughed, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s waist and squeezing him hard before pulling him down the hill again. “So… what’s the first thing you want to do when we get back?” Jimin asked, taking one last look around at their little sanctuary.
“Me?” Jungkook asked, tapping his finger on his lips in mock contemplation. “I think I might take my love out on an actual date.”
Jimin grinned. “Count me in.”