Chapter Text
God, this guy is so full of himself.
Static was all that registered in Jimin’s brain as he tried futilely to tune him out. His date — his blind date, no thanks at all to Taehyung, that rat bastard — was some dude who looked like he was north of thirty five and with the fashion to match. Really, who wears a suit on a first date? Even if, like the guy had said, he had just come from “the office?”
Jimin tried not to bang his head on the table as the dude droned on and on about some business deal, and how much won it would make him when it finally went through. Every three minutes he’d halt his spiel to pick up his phone and send a message to someone, flashing Jimin a simpering smile when he would set it down with a self-important, “Now where was I?”
As if Jimin gave two shits about what he’d been blabbing about before.
The restaurant they were eating at was some sort of pretentious Korean/international fusion cuisine with a faux-fancy decor, all dramatic mood lighting and glossy wood and white polyester tablecloths that were meant to look like linen. Jimin had never eaten here before — it was in a part of town he didn’t frequent, but he’d always been a little curious. The food was supposed to be delicious, but horrendously expensive — and one glance at the menu had verified that. Jimin had let his shock at the prices settle before picking something that wasn’t the cheapest thing on the menu. There was enough left in his monthly budget to pay for it. He’d planned ahead.
He’d almost been sad when the waitress had taken their menus away — he couldn’t spend his time staring at the same three lines of text as an excuse not to make conversation. As it turned out, that didn’t matter in the least. This guy wasn’t interested in making conversation with Jimin — he just wanted to talk about himself.
At least this blind date hadn’t dragged Jimin to a cheap dumpling place, complete with cockroaches, like his last date had — even after Jimin had made it clear that he had strict dietary preferences. That guy had apparently only focused on Jimin’s mentions of affordable and off-the-beaten-path as criteria for picking a restaurant. This time around Jimin had been a little more particular in his requests, and there was food here that at the very least he felt safe eating, even if it cost him as much as his regular weekly food budget.
So this dude, with as little as he had going for him, had one point in his favor — but just one, out of at least a hundred prerequisites Jimin had for a potential partner.
Well, maybe two out of a hundred. Jimin begrudgingly gave him another point because Sanghun — at least Jimin thought that was what his name was — was apparently buddies with Taehyung, although for the life of him Jimin couldn’t figure out why.
Jimin wasn’t even sure why he kept having Taehyung repeatedly set him up on these blind dates. So far, not one guy he’d gone out with was more than even slightly interesting to Jimin.
Taehyung was a very good salesman — which was very helpful in his line of work, but it had been proven to be Jimin’s downfall. He had this way of selling a guy to Jimin, of making Jimin believe in the possibility that this guy could be the one, and Jimin allowed himself to fall for it every time. When it came right down to it, he only had himself to blame for his current predicament.
Jimin was an easy sell. Desperation will make a person believe almost anything.
Taehyung was his best friend. He had a steady, stable, loving relationship with his long-term boyfriend, and he knew Jimin better than anyone else — so what else was Jimin supposed to do? Taehyung rubbed shoulders with many men during his business dealings, many of whom were also single.
Of course Jimin went to Taehyung to help him find a partner. Even though he’d had plenty of opportunities, Jimin was looking for longevity here — a serious relationship, not some hookup or casual fuck buddy thing.
Of course Jimin put his trust in his best friend.
That didn’t mean that more than once in the past few months Jimin hadn’t wondered if his trust in Taehyung was misplaced. In fact, after one failed blind date after another, Jimin was beginning to feel like he was being set up to fail — if not by Taehyung, then at least by the universe.
This had to be some sort of a joke, because in what world would he, Park Jimin, be unable to find someone to spend the rest of his life with?
Jimin’s mind drifted — he ruminated on the items on his To Do list, worried about a work meeting tomorrow and pondered if the six foot monstera in the corner was fake while he was supposedly listening to something about the pros and cons of options versus shares, or some boring shit like that. The topics of conversation on these dates blurred together in Jimin’s mind, as inconsequential and unremarkable as the endless string of guys who sat across the table from him.
Where had Taehyung even met this Sanghun guy? Jimin vaguely wondered, but he couldn’t remember the specifics. For as interesting and engaging as Taehyung was as a person and a friend, his coworkers and business associates must be deadly dull, if this was the best Taehyung could do for him.
Usually the men Jimin went out with on these blind dates were interested in achieving only two things.
One was getting into Jimin’s pants, especially once they met him in person.
Jimin supposed he should be flattered when they complimented him endlessly, but it got real old, real fast when even the good-looking guys were insufferably boring and arrogant.
Two was stroking their own ego — or even better, having Jimin stroke their egos.
The amount of bragging and arrogant flaunting of, well, you name it — money, power, cars, diamond bling, penthouse apartments — that Jimin had had to put up with was painful. He wasn’t one to lie to himself — financial stability would be nice, but not if he had to listen to one more asshole boasting about his new watch worth more than Jimin’s annual salary, his latest vacation in Fiji, or some other shallow bullshit.
Where were the guys who wanted to settle down, form a lasting commitment with someone, build a home and a family? Why couldn’t any of the guys he’d been set up with see that Jimin didn’t care about flash and cash?
The dude across from him had been typing away on his phone for at least two minutes now, with barely a muttered yeah, give me a minute thrown in Jimin’s direction. The insulting rudeness, the plain bad manners of ignoring someone on a first date — this was the direct opposite of what Jimin was looking for.
Jimin rolled his eyes in displeasure, leaning away from the table to take a good look around the restaurant while he waited for the minutes to tick away. Maybe the food would be good at least — that might make this experience not a complete waste of his time.
The restaurant was busy — almost every table was filled now, and quiet voices deep in conversation filled the space around them. Jimin watched the servers balancing fancy drinks on trays, their white aprons pristine — but their cheap, worn shoes gave away their low pay. Everything about this place was about appearance, not substance. It was no wonder someone like the dude across from him chose it.
Most of the other diners were paired off on dates like he was, and Jimin couldn’t help but notice the small gestures that passed between the couples — a hand at the small of a back, a whisper and a quiet laugh, gentle hands held under the table, a collar straightened or a strand of hair tucked behind an ear. The familiarity, the kindness, made Jimin sigh. Kindness as a quality seemed like the bare minimum as far as expectations went, but Jimin craved it.
He craved the fondness he saw in their eyes, the care apparent in their actions — that was what Jimin wanted. A partner he could settle into, a relationship where the two of them were so in sync that they knew what the other was thinking by a single look. Jimin wanted someone he could always count on. He wanted that perfect chemistry that only seemed to be found in the movies. He wanted a happy ending.
People watching had always been a fun pastime for Jimin, but these days it made him more wistful, more dejected than entertained.
Everywhere Jimin went he was surrounded by couples. Everyone was capable of finding someone to spend their lives with — except for him, apparently. It made him think of giving up entirely. Quit this dumb merry-go-round of blind dates, and cross Find the Love of My Life off of his To Do list for good.
Tonight, Jimin was more annoyed than melancholy — and he was hungry, and he was bored. Bored by his present company. Bored by watching perfect couples having their perfect conversations in their perfectly boring outfits in this perfectly fake fancy restaurant. Bored thinking about suffering through the rest of this damn date.
Jimin regretted going out tonight, or any other night, and certainly regretted all the mind-numbing, bored-out-of-his-skull blind dates he’d subjected himself to.
And just when Jimin had taken inventory of every single thing in the restaurant, boring or not, his night was turned on its head by the appearance of someone who was decidedly not boring. That alone had Jimin sitting upright in his chair, craning his neck to get a better look at just who had entered the dining room on the heels of the host.
Being seated at the table directly in front of Jimin were two men. One, carefully coiffed and well-heeled, wearing a stiff, blue-colored button down shirt had taken a seat with his back to Jimin — but he wasn’t the one that had caught Jimin’s attention.
Sitting down opposite the man in blue was a guy who looked wildly out of place in this stuffy formal restaurant. He must be around Jimin’s age, and was unquestioningly good looking, but not in that trying too hard way that Jimin was all too familiar with. No, this guy looked alive in this sea of safe designer chic and inoffensive muted colors.
Purple was Jimin’s first thought. His hair is purple.
It grazed his shoulders in the back and parted near the middle, one side swooping across his face as he delicately tucked the other behind an ear, a hint of silver glinting from multiple earrings. An oval pendant, the chain hanging low, swung over an oversized sunshine yellow sweater that was tucked into belted inky black jeans that highlighted his impressive thighs and small waist. He was gorgeous in that enviable just-rolled-out-of-bed-already-looking-like-a-dream quality, all glowing skin and perfectly-mussed hair, his twinkling eyes emphasized with smoky makeup. Fuck.
It wasn’t until the guy sat and made direct eye contact that Jimin realized he was staring. Double fuck. Jimin was most certainly not bored anymore.
The guy, the purple-haired guy — Jimin was enchanted by the way it shone lollipop-bright in the light — quirked an eyebrow at him, a lopsided smile playing on his lips until the man he was with said something. Tearing his eyes away from Jimin, he became instantly engrossed in what the other man was saying, propping his chin on his hand and batting his eyelashes at what obviously was his date.
The man in the blue shirt had brought Purple Guy flowers, and not just the kind you picked out of the bucket at a convenience store. Lush pink peonies were complemented with dark purple irises and white and yellow daisies, wrapped up with a spray of baby’s breath and wide pink ribbon. They must be serious, Jimin thought, and jealousy flashed through him. No one had ever brought Jimin flowers on a date. Why couldn’t he have that, a serious relationship with a partner who was considerate and bought him flowers? Was it really too much to ask?
Jimin nursed his drink and pouted while he waited for Dude — he couldn’t be bothered to try to remember his name anymore, so Jimin just gave up, he was now known as the mononymous Dude — across from him to finish whatever the hell he was doing. Jimin tried to find something else, anything at all, to look at — but as hard as he tried, his gaze kept wandering back to Purple Guy’s table.
The man he was with, Blue Shirt, was handsome and physically fit from what Jimin could tell, and well-off, judging by the expensive shoes on his feet. He was talking to Purple Guy animatedly, a few words making their way over to where Jimin sat with his head bowed, concentrating. He was trying his best to act disinterested in their conversation, but in reality he couldn’t help but try to piece the words together. What was Blue Shirt saying that had Purple Guy so entranced?
This is who you’ve become, Jimin chastised himself with deep self-loathing. Someone who eavesdrops on conversations that have nothing at all to do with you. Someone who tries to live vicariously through some stranger’s relationship. A creep. Jimin downed his cocktail and sunk further in his seat, staring at the flickering flame of the cheap candle in the center of the table. Dude asked him a question that Jimin didn’t quite hear, but he nodded in agreement, and soon a fresh drink was set before him.
When Jimin glanced up next — at Purple Guy, of course, he couldn’t seem to help it — the man in the blue-colored shirt was gesturing widely with his hands, voice raised in excitement and apparent happiness. Purple Guy nodded along, smiling, adding little reactions, his pink lips going round around an oh or ah.
The more Jimin watched him though, the more he wondered if he was only acting interested. Purple Guy never seemed to add anything to the conversation, and his foot bounced restlessly where it crossed his leg under the table. When his date looked away, you could almost see Purple Guy sigh in relief.
Jimin recognized that fake smile, the glazed look that Jimin himself wore so often on these types of dates. Maybe his first impression had been wrong. Maybe they weren’t so close after all.
At that exact moment, Purple Guy glanced over his date’s shoulder at Jimin. His phony smile directed at his date never faltered, but his eyes settled into more of a smolder than the wide-eyed fascination he’d been sporting up until now. A tingle zipped up Jimin’s spine.
Dude set down his phone and suddenly placed his meaty paw on top of Jimin’s hand, jolting Jimin from his thoughts as his eyes snapped back to his actual date.
Ah yes, reality.
“Hey, sorry that took so long. Duty calls, you know how it is,” he said with an unbothered chuckle. Jimin pulled his hand away, clasping it in his lap and trying not to grimace. Oblivious to Jimin’s discomfort, Dude went on rambling about something that once again Jimin could not care less about.
Jimin tried to estimate the time — he’d only been here, what, twenty minutes? Thirty? But thirty minutes was more than long enough for Jimin to be weary of this charade, and for Dude to be on his third drink. He wished he could pull out his own phone and check the actual time, but Jimin had vowed long ago that he wouldn’t be one of those people. It was in such poor taste, and an instant turn off — so even though Dude wouldn’t have even noticed, Jimin resisted, pleased with himself if nothing else. Even when he was being treated rudely, Jimin’s manners were still in place. He could still be the bigger person, and act like the adult he was.
Dude’s face was turning red from the alcohol, and as his mannerisms got looser, his voice got louder while they waited for their food. Other diners turned to find the source of the disturbance of their otherwise peaceful, boring evening, and Jimin forced a tight smile, looking into his lap as he tried to avoid their stares. Tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently, Jimin counted down the seconds until this date was over so he could go home and curl up on the couch — and give Taehyung a piece of his mind.
Disregarding his general rule to never drink to excess on a blind date, Jimin threw caution to the wind and downed his drink in one go, immediately waving the server over to order another. As he nodded his head in thanks as she left, Jimin noticed Purple Guy staring at him with a little frown creasing his brow — but when he saw Jimin had noticed him, he grinned surreptitiously and winked.
He fucking winked.
Clearly he shouldn’t be doing that when they were both on dates, for god’s sake. What about the guy he was with? What would he think if he noticed Purple Guy throwing flirty winks at random strangers in a restaurant? — because that’s what that was, it was definitely flirty, and Jimin felt the flush creep up his chest. He told himself it was just the alcohol, but not even he was buying that weak rationalization. Purple Guy, with a tiny smirk that just screamed self-satisfaction, went back to his conversation with his obviously well-rehearsed pleasantry, and Jimin — Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off of him now, no matter how hard he tried.
Jimin’s drink arrived at the same time as their food, and he was glad for the distraction of a plate before him — at least he could have something else to look at besides the cute guy he wasn’t on a date with. His food looked aesthetically pleasing, straight off of an Instagram feed — it smelled delicious and certainly met Jimin’s healthy eating standards, but suddenly he wasn’t hungry. Dude was talking at length about something regarding his parents — wait, was he actually talking about his parents? On a blind date? — while Jimin picked at his food. Swirling his drink, Jimin frowned in revulsion as Dude stuffed his face, not paying any attention to the fact that Jimin wasn’t eating — just like he hadn’t noticed Jimin hadn’t talked all night, for that matter.
At the other table, Purple Guy was leaning back as far as he could be in his chair, ankle across his knee and one arm thrown over the back of his chair. He looked relaxed, an easy smile on his face as he fake laughed his way through a conversation — and it definitely was fake, as fake as the monstera plant in the corner, Jimin was sure of it now.
When his date was looking down at the wine menu, Purple Guy glanced at Jimin, rolling his eyes and gesturing to him under the table — talking, talking, talking, his hand said. Jimin suppressed a smile, then straightened out his face as Dude looked up at him, a smear of sauce on his lips and crumbs on his shirt. Jimin shivered in revulsion.
“Are you done already? Gonna eat the rest of that?” Sanghun asked, pointing at Jimin’s practically untouched food, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jimin shook his head, and Dude slid Jimin’s plate toward him — he made quick work of it, stacking Jimin’s plate on top of his with a contented sigh and a pat to his belly. “So,” Sanghun began, taking Jimin’s drink out of his hand and setting it aside before trapping Jimin’s hand between his own, “did you say you had to be up early tomorrow? I thought maybe after this, we could head back to mine for a drink or two.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Jimin had to hold back his gag.
“I didn’t say anything about tomorrow, actually.” Or anything else, he added silently to himself. Jimin could count on one hand how many sentences he’d said to Dude the whole night.
Over Dude’s shoulder, he could see Purple Guy, his eyes sharp, watching him with interest — and something else Jimin might almost classify as concern .
“What do you think?” Dude was smoothing his sweaty hand over Jimin’s, smiling up at him from under his thick brows. “You’re utterly enchanting, has anyone ever told you that? A beautiful man like you shouldn’t have to spend the evening alone.”
The way Dude was leering at him made his skin crawl, and Jimin took a deep, steadying breath.
This guy was not only boring, and conceited, and horribly ill mannered, but he was just so… sleazy. The alcohol had Jimin feeling fuzzy around the edges — he instantly regretted drinking so much in such a short time, and on an empty stomach.
I’m fine , Jimin reminded himself, pushing down the alarm bells bubbling nauseatingly in his stomach. They were in a public place, and there were plenty of people around, no reason to think anything bad would happen. Besides, Jimin knew he could take care of himself if it came right down to it, even if this guy was almost twice his size. There is nothing to worry about.
“Who said I’d be spending it alone?” Jimin quipped back, attempting to regain control of the situation. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be pushed around by some dude.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Sanghun said with a grin, completely misreading Jimin and his obvious distaste at the suggestion they spend the night together. “I’ll be more than happy to keep you company tonight. More than happy, my lovely.” He attempted to bring Jimin’s hand to his lips but Jimin ripped it away, done with being polite and keeping up appearances.
Dude’s phone rang before Jimin could open his mouth to set him straight. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, um— oh, it’s Jimin-ssi, right? Sorry, doll.” Jimin scoffed and rolled his eyes at that, but his irritation went right over the head of his oblivious date. “I need to take this,” Dude said. “I’m just going to step out for a little minute. Don’t go anywhere,” he sing-songed in an ingratiating tone that made Jimin want to punch him.
With no one impeding his view, Jimin’s tipsy mind shifted from disgust to pleasure as he shifted his gaze in Purple Guy’s direction, free to ogle him all he wanted now that he was alone at the table. But when his eyes landed on Purple Guy, the light and sunshine that had previously lit up his large eyes had disappeared, replaced with what seemed to be an odd roguish determination.
For an instant Jimin wondered what was wrong — except, wait. Where was Purple Guy’s date? He should be blocking Jimin’s view. Glancing around the restaurant, Jimin saw a blue-colored back turning the corner towards the restroom, and before he could even look away, a vice-like grip wrapped around his arm.
“C’mon, let’s go!”
It was Purple Guy, his large hand encircling Jimin’s wrist, tugging him out of his seat urgently.
“Wha—what?” Jimin stuttered, looking from Purple Guy’s hand to his face. “Where— where are— wait. What’s going on?”
“Hurry,” Purple Guy urged, pulling a little harder as he glanced around. “Let’s go before they come back!”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way Purple Guy’s face was lit up like the cat who’d stolen the canary — or maybe Jimin had literally lost his mind. Seemingly of their own volition, his legs followed Purple Guy up and out of his seat, his eyes darting around the restaurant as they made their way to the exit. They passed right by Dude — seated at the bar, so engrossed in his conversation that he didn’t even see Jimin go by — and burst out the front door into the warm night air of summertime in Seoul.
Purple Guy was a fast runner, and he steered them down the block and around a corner in a flash. Jimin thanked his disciplined workout schedule — five miles on the treadmill every other day — that allowed him to keep up at all. He was breathless and laughing in incredulity when they finally stopped just out of sight of the restaurant.
“Holy shit, are you crazy?” Jimin panted, peeking around the corner as if someone might come after them. The thought of Dude lumbering down the sidewalk made giggles erupt, and Jimin covered his mouth trying to hold them in. He really shouldn’t find this quite so funny.
“Nope, definitely not crazy.”
Purple Guy was grinning down at Jimin and damn it if it didn’t make Jimin’s heart flutter. He was holding his bouquet of flowers in one hand, and was still holding Jimin’s in his other — as if they were friends, as if they’d known each other forever. Jimin took his hand back, shoving it in his pants pocket self-consciously. “You can call me Jungkook,” Purple Guy said, smiling widely and showing off the silver lip ring to one side of his mouth. “Jeon Jungkook.”
“I can call you… Jungkook?” Jimin repeated dazedly, forgetting his honorifics entirely. “What is that, like, your spy name? Secret identity? Are you James Bond?”
“Maybe,” Jungkook said, eyes glinting. “What’s your secret identity?”
What is with this guy? Jimin thought. “Uh, I’m Park Jimin.”
“Park Jimin-ssi, it’s very nice to meet you,” Jungkook said, sweeping the flowers across his waist and bowing low over them.
Jimin took a long look at their surroundings, trying to get an exact bearing on where he was, trying to digest everything that had happened in the span of mere minutes. “Why— why did you— what are we doing, exactly?”
“I rescued you from that horrible date of yours, obviously,” Jungkook said, brows raised in amusement.
“Who said I needed rescuing?” Jimin said, crossing his arms with a huff. “Do you often go around stealing people from restaurants?”
“No, I don’t, and yes you did . Trust me,” Jungkook stated, as if he knew Jimin, as if he knew anything at all about what Jimin needed or wanted. Impertinent. “I saw how he was looking at you.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jimin shot back, irritation rising . “He had his back to you — you couldn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t need to see his face to know what he was thinking. I saw your face when he held your hand — that was all I needed to know.” Jungkook blew his hair off of his face, revealing an eyebrow piercing Jimin hadn't seen before. He leaned nonchalantly against the brick wall next to Jimin, one knee bent, the picture of cool. Jimin tried not to stare into his dark eyes. Something about this Jungkook guy puzzled him, intrigued him — infuriated him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “No need to thank me for saving you, it was my pleasure.”
The brazen presumptuousness . Annoyance prickled Jimin’s skin — he really didn't need to be rescued, even if that Dude had had less than honorable intentions. “I have a black belt, you know,” Jimin said, crossing his arms defiantly. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need to be protected or whatever you thought you were doing.”
Jungkook laughed, a high pitched giggle that almost made Jimin a little less mad at him. “I wasn’t thinking he was going to kidnap you or something, Jimin-ssi! I just meant that you looked bored, and exasperated, and like you wanted to slap him. You’re too cute to be stuck with some dickwad like that.”
Jimin screwed his lips up, but an amused snicker slipped through despite his best efforts. “He was a dickwad.” He glanced down at the flowers in Jungkook’s hand, noticing for the first time his hand tattoos. It seemed that every time he looked at Jungkook he discovered something new. It left Jimin feeling off balance. “But what about your date?” he asked, nodding at the bouquet. “Isn’t he going to be pissed?”
“Oh, that guy?” Jungkook laughed. “He was totally insufferable. I thought about leaving almost as soon as he started talking.”
“He brought you flowers, though,” Jimin said. Jungkook shrugged dismissively, eyes never leaving Jimin’s face. His gaze was soft, amused — intent . “If you didn’t like him, why didn’t you just leave right away?” Jimin asked, clearing his throat and taking half a step back, trying to put some distance between them. “Why put yourself through that?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Jungkook smirked, and Jimin scowled in return. “Well, you see, there was this gorgeous guy sitting right near me, and I thought it might be fun to stay and flirt with him a bit.”
“Knock it off,” Jimin complained, even though his stomach swooped at the word gorgeous. “I’m pretty immune to compliments after going on so many blind dates. They’re all assholes who think they can take me home if they pull out their thesaurus to find the most obscure synonyms for beautiful.”
Jungkook laughed again, and if it was possible his laugh was even more high pitched than the last, his mouth open wide as he clapped. The flowers in his hand flopped around, a few petals fluttering to the ground. He claps like a seal, Jimin thought, and tried not to find it endearing.
“Ok, fine. You win,” Jungkook said, “I won’t call you anything that comes anywhere close to the word beautiful.” He wouldn’t stop smiling at him, and it was beginning to make Jimin sweat. “What adjective did that guy back there,” Jungkook gestured in the direction of the restaurant, “use on you tonight?”
“Enchanting,” Jimin said with a snort.
“Ah fuck, he really is too old for you, isn’t he?”
Jimin gave Jungkook the once over, wondering just how old he was — younger than Jimin, that was for sure. Maybe even more than a couple of years. “So if that guy you were with was so insufferable, why were you even with him?” Jimin asked, anxious to take the attention off of himself.
“Oh, well, my mom set me up on this stupid blind date — yeah, a blind date, just like you,” Jungkook said with an eye roll and a laugh. “That guy, he’s the son of one of her friends or something.” He put the flowers to his nose and took a long sniff, closing his eyes with a happy little sigh. “I suppose she thinks that because both of us are gay it’s a match made in heaven.”
It reminded Jimin of his parents, and he laughed. “Yeah, I get that from mine, too.”
“I’m such a sucker for my mom — I can never tell her no,” Jungkook said thoughtfully, tracing the cracks betweens the bricks with his fingertip, his attention diverted from Jimin for the first time since they’d run away together. “I only agreed to go because it made her so happy. I suppose tomorrow I’ll have to explain to her what happened.” Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, distressed. “That should be fun.”
Jimin leaned against the wall next to Jungkook, scuffing his boot on the pavement as he spoke. “My friend Taehyung-ah set me up with that dude,” he said, even though Jungkook hadn’t asked.
“Some friend.”
“Hey,” Jimin snapped, glaring at Jungkook. “Not fucking cool.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jungkook said immediately, hands held up in defense. “You’re right. That was totally out of line.”
“You don’t know shit about me or my friend,” Jimin said harshly, but felt a tiny pang of regret when he saw the remorse clearly written on Jungkook’s face. “Just— he means well,” Jimin said, easing off of his anger. “Tae-yah, my friend — he wants what’s best for me.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he does,” Jungkook said quietly, eyeing Jimin appraisingly. “Hey, did you even eat?” he asked. “I saw your date take your plate from you.”
Jimin nodded. “I let him. He was disgusting — by the time my food got there, I’d lost my appetite.” Jimin frowned at the memory of Dude talking with his mouth full, spewing bits of food all over the table. “So, no, I didn’t eat. Just had a few drinks.” A few drinks too many, Jimin thought, because he was definitely not thinking clearly if he was still here, chatting with this stranger.
“Wanna go down to the convenience store over there?” Jungkook hooked a thumb at a sun-faded green and purple sign lit up on the far corner of the block. “I’ll buy you some cup ramen and we can, um, I don’t know. Talk. Hang out. Something. Recover from our horrible dates.”
“I— no,” Jimin replied without a second thought, almost before Jungkook had finished his sentence.
Jungkook seemed taken aback at how quickly Jimin had shot him down, and it took him a second to respond. “Why— why not?”
Jimin crossed his arms in firm certainty. “I don’t eat cup ramen, and I don’t even know you. Why would I go anywhere with you?”
“You went somewhere with that guy,” Jungkook pointed out, just a little testily — and for the first time, Jimin saw a glimpse of something other than the sunny, fearless aura that seemed to surround Jungkook. “You didn’t know him either. What’s the difference?”
There was no difference, Jimin knew that. It just felt… dangerous. Jungkook didn’t seem dangerous per se, but this — this whole scenario, this was not the sort of thing Jimin did. He didn’t run away from his dates, and he didn’t hang out with guys like Jungkook — not anymore, anyway.
A few years ago, sure, he might’ve said yes. Jungkook was the kind of guy who would have turned Jimin’s head back then, before he’d grown up, before he’d become an adult. Jimin knew all about guys like Jungkook.
Their main objective was fun — they were looking for trouble, and never took anything seriously. Jimin had had his fair share of short-term, fly by night boyfriends and meaningless hookups, and that was the exact opposite of where he was in his life now. Jimin certainly wasn’t going to eat cup ramen with some guy with purple hair just because he was the prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. He had priorities.
“I should go,” Jimin said. Better to remove himself from temptation before he did something he’d regret.
“Wait,” Jungkook said, “how are you getting home? Are you going to be safe going alone?”
“I’ll get a taxi,” Jimin stated, pulling out his phone and opening the app. “And, Jungkook-ssi, once again let me remind you that I can take care of myself. You certainly presume to know a lot about me for someone I don’t know.” When Jimin looked up, he saw uncertainty on Jungkook’s face, his smile gone, eyes skittering away from him — and disliked how that made him feel. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was a little harsh.”
“It’s ok. You’re right, we don’t know each other. I shouldn’t act like we do,” Jungkook murmured, looking down at his feet. “I apologize, Jimin-ssi,” he said with a low bow.
Jimin squirmed in discomfort. He felt awful for how he’d been treating Jungkook, maybe more than he should about someone he’d known all of what, fifteen minutes? “What about you?” Jimin asked hesitantly. “Do you have far to go? We could— I guess we could share the taxi,” he added belatedly, although that sort of defeated his goal of getting away from Jungkook and his big, dumb, twinkling eyes.
“No, no, I’m good,” Jungkook said, waving him off. “I live just up there.” Jungkook pointed up the hill across the street from where they stood. “Just a few blocks.”
“Really?”
“Yep. That’s why I chose that restaurant for our date. I figured if he was lame I could bolt and head home. I just didn’t think I’d be bolting with some cute guy on my arm.” Jungkook smiled sheepishly. “Oops, sorry. I forgot. No compliments.”
Jimin tried to hide his smile. “It’s fine.”
After ordering his taxi, Jimin sighed and slouched against the wall to wait. The car was seven minutes away. The adrenaline from their escapade was draining out of him now, exhaustion replacing it, sinking its claws into him. Jimin was ready for home, a cup of tea, his fuzzy socks, and the new episode of his favorite kdrama — in that order.
“So, what do you do?” Jungkook asked, his confident grin making a return when Jimin hesitated. “Hey, I’m just being friendly,” he clarified innocently, batting his eyelashes. “I just thought we could get to know each other while you wait for your ride. Y’know, so we’re not complete strangers anymore.”
Jimin bit back his snarky retort. But we are complete strangers, and I need to keep it that way, because he didn’t want to hurt Jungkook’s feelings any more than he already had.
“I’m only making polite conversation,” Jungkook entreated, waiting in anticipation like an eager puppy.
Jungkook was getting under his skin too easily, and without Jimin knowing anything more than his name, his penchant for bucking convention, and his love for his mom. That alone made Jimin want to stomp on the brakes before things went any further — but he wasn’t a total asshole. Jungkook deserved a little small talk at least, after he’d so expertly extracted him — he absolutely did not rescue me! Jimin thought defiantly to himself — from his terrible date.
“Fine,” Jimin said, trying to sound begrudging, because why give Jungkook more than he was asking for? It was small talk, it didn’t mean anything, and in five minutes or less, Jimin would climb into the back of a taxi and never see Jungkook or his long purple hair again.
“I work in Myeongdong, at a natural beauty products store. Nature Republic — maybe you’ve seen it. I’m the store manager now, but I worked my way up from the bottom, stocking shelves, sweeping the floors, that kinda stuff. Anyway, I’ve been there nine years now — ten next spring. Taehyung-ah — my friend, the jerk who set me up on this blind date — works part time there, but we’ve been friends since we were kids. He moved into my neighborhood when I was eight and that was that. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”
Jimin wanted to slap a hand over his mouth. There was no reason for him to share all of that personal information. Jungkook had only asked what he did, not for his life story. He wasn’t looking to become friends with this guy.
“Must be nice to have an old friend like that,” Jungkook said thoughtfully, then brightened. “Oh! I think I have seen that place! Right across from the Line Friends store, right?”
“Um, yeah. That’s where I work. Right across from that giant brown bear.” An orange taxi pulled up to the corner. “That’s me,” Jimin said with an unwelcome twinge of regret. Just leave, idiot, he berated himself. This is the right thing to do.
Before Jimin could hop into the car, though, Jungkook jumped in front of him, blocking his way.
“What are you doing?” Jimin glowered at him, nodding to the driver in apology.
“Here,” Jungkook said, thrusting the flowers into one of his hands and grabbing Jimin’s phone from the other simultaneously. Jimin didn’t have time to protest or react — Jungkook was already typing into his phone, then held the phone up to snap a picture of himself.
“Wha—?” Jimin said less than eloquently, looking from the bouquet of flowers to the phone that Jungkook was already pressing back into his hand. He curled Jimin’s fingers securely around it before letting go.
“Just in case you need to be rescued again, Jimin-ssi.” Snatching a daisy from the bouquet, Jungkook stuck it behind his own ear with a cheeky grin. The white petals stood out against the purple like a star in the night sky.
Jimin didn’t have even a moment to respond — Jungkook bounded away from him, weaving around the taxi before sprinting across the street, waving back at Jimin with a huge smile. “The flowers are yours, now, Jimin!” he called, jogging backwards, hands cupped around his mouth. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime! Get home safe!”
Safe. Jimin was certainly not safe from his lingering thoughts about a certain guy with purple hair and twinkling eyes, who’d abruptly swooped into his life superhero-style, leaving behind a breathless Jimin holding his first bouquet of flowers in the back of an orange taxi.
🍜
“No way, I’m not doing that again.” Jimin turned toward the door as the bell rang. Nodding to the woman who’d walked in, he said sweetly, “Good morning.”
“Why not? You’re the one who started this. This guy is great. I just know you’ll like him,” Taehyung said, flashing his trademark confident smile that probably made every office manager swoon and immediately sign on the dotted line, but Jimin was not just some chump in a cheap suit. He was Taehyung’s best friend, and was not about to be swayed that easily.
Standing behind the register on the opposite side of the counter from Jimin, Taehyung popped another chip from his hidden bag into his mouth.
“Great — just like the last one, right?” Jimin whispered under his breath, quietly enough that their customer couldn’t hear. “That was a fucking disaster, Tae-yah.” He straightened the tiny jars of skin cream on the shelf in front of him, refusing to look at Taehyung. “And stop eating on the sales floor!” Jimin grumbled. “That shit will kill you, by the way.”
“Yes, sir,” Taehyung exclaimed, bowing deeply in jest, but defiantly sneaking another chip when he thought Jimin wasn’t looking. “Maybe that guy wasn’t so great, but you can’t really complain. Your night ended just fine — you had some cute guy take it upon himself to rescue you.” He gave Jimin finger guns and waggled his eyebrows. Taehyung always had had a penchant for the dramatic, and this was exactly the kind of shit he lived for.
Sanghun, of course, had told Taehyung that Jimin had bailed on their date, forcing Jimin to explain what had happened — but he’d managed to get away only sharing the basics, not all the details. Jimin had omitted his conversation with Jungkook, the blatant flirting, the flowers, and especially how Jungkook had made Jimin feel, and what he still felt. What was it even? Curiosity? A yearning to know more about Jungkook, to understand him more? Or maybe it was even more simple than that — plain old physical desire?
Jimin was not letting Taehyung sink his claws into that one — he would never hear the end of it.
Jimin would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about that night many times in the past three weeks. He would also be lying if he said part of him hadn’t hoped he would run into Jungkook somewhere. But just like the bouquet he’d saved and hung to dry in the corner of his bedroom, he kept that information to himself. It was ludicrous to think about a guy who Jimin didn’t know, and was the exact opposite of what he was looking for. He’d never see Jungkook again, and that was for the best.
The less Taehyung knew, the better.
“You mean how I was dragged out of there against my will by a complete stranger?” Jimin huffed. “And I never said he was cute.”
“But he was.” The twinkle in Taehyung’s eyes told Jimin that he knew Jimin was holding something back. “You wouldn’t be so defensive if he wasn’t.”
Jimin couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend the whole truth. The only thing Jimin wanted to do was put Jungkook away in the distant past where he belonged. A chance encounter, meaningless and fleeting, soon to be forgotten entirely.
“I thought you didn’t click with Sanghun and didn’t want to be there, but you’re still insisting that guy dragged you away? ”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“What’s the harm in trying again, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung said, his voice softer. As much as he liked to tease Jimin, he also knew when he was going too far — and he also knew how important finding a serious relationship was to Jimin. Even though they disagreed on what Jimin’s ideal guy might look like, or what Taehyung said were Jimin’s unrealistic expectations , Taehyung took the role of Jimin’s wingman seriously. “This guy is younger, and he’s really good looking. I showed him your picture and he’s very eager to meet you.”
“Do you ever tell them about me personally, Taehyung?” Jimin countered, voice quiet and terse. His gaze was on their customer who was still browsing, ready to jump in if she needed help. “Like, about my personality, or preferences, or anything at all — or do you just show them my picture? Because most of these guys are only interested in one thing, and it’s not stimulating conversation about my interests, unless it’s what I prefer in bed.”
“This guy isn’t like that, I promise. Lim Youngsoo-ssi — that’s his name, by the way— just got out of a long term relationship, so he’s into commitment, too,” Taehyung explained. “And yeah, of course I tell them about you. What kind of friend do you take me for? You’re so much more than your pretty ass, my friend.”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “Just got out of a relationship? Fuck, Tae-yah, those guys are the worst. They’re either heartbroken, and I’ll have to deal with them getting drunk and crying on my shoulder the whole night, or they’re drowning their sorrows and fucking anything that walks. Or sometimes that’s why they got out of the relationship in the first place, which still sucks. Any way you look at it, it's a lose lose lose for me.”
“He’s not like that, it was an amicable break up.” Taehyung put his hand on his hip, sighing in exasperation. “Min-ah, you’re the one who’s trying to find Mr. Right. If you don’t like who I’m choosing for you, then use a dating app. I’m trying here, which is more than I can say for you.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Jimin hissed. “I am trying — why do you think I keep going on these blind dates?”
Jimin murmured a thank you for stopping to the woman as she exited the store, then rounded on Taehyung.
“I don’t want to use a dating app, and you know it. I feel more comfortable if you know the guys. I don’t want to hit up some rando who’s probably trying to catfish me, and no one is looking for anything serious on those things. All they ever want are hookups.”
Jimin had thought many times about using a dating app — had downloaded one to his phone, even had gone as far as creating a profile and browsing a little. It had just seemed — cheap. Tacky. Weird. He couldn’t imagine finding a life long partner through a cheesy bio and photoshopped picture. He’d deleted it the same night, and thrown himself at Taehyung’s mercy instead.
“C’mon, I promise you’ll like him,” Taehyung said, using the soft tone and puppy dog eyes Jimin could never say no to. “You know how much it hurts me to see you unhappy all the time.” He cupped Jimin’s face in both hands. “I don’t want you to spend one more night sad and alone, my sweet Min-ah. I want you to have someone to pamper you like you deserve.”
“Fine,” Jimin relented. There was no way to fix this longing he had without continuing to try. “Just this one time, though, and if it doesn’t work out, I’m done — for good.”
🍜
But it was never just once. Jimin allowed himself to get set up by Taehyung again and again, in the hope that one of these times someone would take. Jimin was tired of being alone. He was tired of waking up alone and going to sleep alone. He was tired of being the third wheel.
Taehyung had Yoongi, and they had a real adult, mature, loving relationship. They were living together, had adopted a dog, and they were happy . Jimin had Netflix and his spider plant, and, for all his touting of healthy food and clean living, a pint of ice cream when things got really bad.
He’d tried meeting people on his own, but approaching some guy at the grocery store and asking him out based only on his looks and the contents of his basket just felt… off. Jimin felt the same way when guys approached him, flirting and insinuating how much they’d like to take him out and show him a good time. It felt shallow, hollow, based on nothing but physical attraction and ego.
It wasn’t like Jimin didn’t know how to have a good time. He and Taehyung, and even Yoongi sometimes, would go out together — Yoongi usually sat in the booth with a scotch and soda, looking deceptively bored while Jimin and Taehyung got drunk and danced. Plenty of guys approached Jimin on those nights, and when he’d been younger Jimin had indulged in his share of hookups, fueled by need and a large amount of alcohol.
There had even been a few guys he’d seen off and on for a while, only interested in a semi-regular fuck at the time. But he was really over that whole scene and the idea of a casual relationship that would lead nowhere. He was an adult now — with a real job and real responsibilities — and Jimin wanted the adult, committed relationship to go along with it.
Taehyung was always telling him to ease up a little, get to know a few people, have a little fun. He made it sound so easy — and it was, for Taehyung. Not for Jimin.
Taehyung was everyone’s friend. He knew how to strike up a conversation with some stranger sitting next to him on the train — before you knew it, the two of them would be laughing and sharing their life stories. That was not something Jimin felt comfortable doing.
It took time for Jimin to warm up to people, to want to share his thoughts. He needed to feel things out first, and to a lot of people he came off as cool and detached. Jimin knew he missed out on a lot of opportunities to make friends, and potential partners, because of it, but what else was he supposed to do? He was just built that way.
Always-extroverted Taehyung couldn’t understand where Jimin was coming from, but Jimin couldn’t just make himself be more outgoing — no matter how much he wanted to, or how much Taehyung pushed him to try.
And so Jimin was stuck in yet another endless cycle of blind dates, helpless in the hands of Taehyung. Taehyung understood why Jimin was so dead-set on a certain type of relationship, and he really was trying his best to find Jimin a guy who ticked all the right boxes — but the question was, what would be the thing that moved someone from the category of suitable into the Mr. Right slot?
Jimin wasn’t even sure he knew at this point — there had been a few guys he’d been set up with that had seemed at least interesting. A couple Jimin had even allowed to kiss him goodnight — but not one of them was someone he’d ever consider a second date with. With those few guys, it had been pleasant enough — but shouldn’t he feel fireworks, or hear bells ring or some shit? Shouldn’t there be that instant connection he’d always heard about?
After every blind date, Jimin made it a habit to delete the latest reject’s contact information immediately, determined to wipe away the memory of yet another failure. Often when he was scrolling through he’d spot Jungkook’s picture and the name he’d typed — JK — in his contacts.
The picture Jungkook had taken was striking, even while slightly blurry from his quick movements at the time. His eyes were playful and mischievous after successfully stealing Jimin’s phone, purple hair falling across them in his haste, and he was grinning from ear to ear, his lip ring glinting even in the dim light of the alley.
Jimin would stop scrolling and look at it every time he saw it. He couldn't seem to help himself. Invariably, he’d find himself reliving the memories of that night, and he often found himself involuntarily smiling — then would curse his weakness.
He knew he should have deleted it as soon as he’d left Jungkook on that street corner that night. That would end this once and for all, he would tell himself, and yet still didn’t do it. A few times he’d even tried — but, his finger hovering over the Delete Contact button, he’d hesitate, sometimes for as long as for a full minute, before locking his phone in frustration and shoving it deep in his pocket.
Running had always cleared Jimin’s head in the past, and yet no matter how many hours he spent on the treadmill, he couldn’t shake the melancholy that had fallen over everything he did. He tried to run from the emptiness, run towards something enveloped in fog, something he couldn’t see — just a wish, a dream, but it always seemed to be just out of reach.
Upstairs, his empty apartment waited for him, devoid of the warmth he’d felt when he’d moved in. He’d been so excited that first day, bursting with happiness that he could finally afford his first place — blissfully alone, no roommates to keep him up at all hours, or leave dirty dishes in the sink, or come up short on the water bill. Decorating his small space, buying some plants to put in the wide south window, contemplating paint colors and throw pillows — he’d felt like an adult.
But now — now, Jimin felt hollowed out, as empty as the conversations on his blind dates — as empty as his bed.
Nothing held his attention anymore. Work was robotic and dull, the same thing every day, and even Taehyung’s frequent evening shifts weren’t enough to lift the dreariness.
Here, at the apartment complex’s small gym, with his favorite drama on his tablet, earphones in to block out distractions, putting in his nightly miles — Jimin would still find himself drifting, reaching the end of the episode without knowing what had happened.
Jimin found he barely remembered the past six months at all except for that one bright spot, the night he kept coming back to — ironically the thing he’d vowed to never repeat.
He found himself wondering, daydreaming about the answers to questions he hadn’t asked at the time. What did Jungkook do? How old was he? Was he from Seoul, or had he moved here? At the time, Jimin hadn’t cared — or more like, he’d been too suspicious and shocked to want to get to know Jungkook better. So why couldn’t he get this guy out of his mind now?
It was ridiculous, he knew it was, spending any time thinking about Jungkook. And yet the more Jimin thought about it, the more he found he wanted to relive not the moment, but that rush — that thrill of confusion and the exhilaration he’d felt when they’d bolted from the restaurant, leaving their dates in the dust. It was by far the most exciting thing that Jimin had ever experienced on any date, ever.
The thing was, why did it matter? Why should Jimin care about some cute guy he’d met accidentally one time and had never spoken to again? He didn’t care. He shouldn’t care. And yet, here he was.
Jimin had deleted the contact information of every guy he’d dated for the past six months. Each and every one he was determined to never think of again — but he hadn’t deleted Jungkook. And yet he’d never spoken to Jungkook again because Jimin had chosen not to — for what he thought was a very good reason.
There was no point. Jungkook was decidedly not the kind of guy Jimin was looking to date.
🍜
Jimin stood outside the restaurant, watching diners entering and exiting for ten full minutes, willing himself to walk through the door. He was being rude and inconsiderate — his date was waiting for him inside, but being here again was disorienting, to say the least.
He’d let the other guy pick the place again, and he had sent Jimin just an address and time. When Jimin had pulled up, a cold chill had run through him, from head to toe, and it took everything in him not to tell the taxi to turn around and take him home. Out of all the establishments in Seoul, it had to be here? What were the chances?
As he and his date followed the host through the familiar dining room, Jimin couldn’t help but glance at the table Jungkook had sat at, now occupied by a different couple. After they’d been seated, he stared at the spot where he’d been sitting across from Dude, now empty. He barely listened as the very nice man he’d been set up with spoke, and barely made an effort to answer when he’d asked Jimin about his interests. Being here felt wrong. It felt empty and cold without Jungkook’s presence to brighten it.
It had only felt boring before, but now it felt worse — it felt fake. He felt fake.
The fake monstera was still in the corner in its faux ceramic planter. The tablecloths were still fake linen. The tables were still occupied by couples swathed in tones of beige and grey. Even their quiet conversations and loving gestures felt contrived and fake to Jimin.
The food was excellent, something Jimin had missed out on before, and the guy across from him was attentive and very sweet for once, but Jimin felt a bit immune to these dates by now. The questions were all the same, his answers were all the same, he always ordered some variation of the same meal wherever he went — some sort of seafood, heavy on the vegetables, but vegetarian if he could get it — and always had the same drink, a cranberry vodka. Jimin was bored. It had nothing to do with his present company, and everything to do with Jimin.He was the one who was fake. It’s not you, it’s me.
What a cliché he’d become.
Jimin tried to resist the urge to look around to see if Jungkook would suddenly appear out of the woodwork to save the night once again, because it drew such a stark contrast between what was happening now and what had happened that night. These intrusive thoughts made Jimin feel angry, and weak, and made him doubt his own mind, his own resolve. Focus, Jimin told himself, yet he kept failing, so wrapped up in his own head that he was bordering on rude, barely able to pay attention to what his date was saying.
Jimin had a goal, a desire that went beyond the need for adventure and impulsivity. By now, he knew for certain that while quite suitable, this guy didn’t fit his vision either. No guy he’d dated so far was it — but Jungkook wasn't it either, so it made no sense to dwell on him.
When he and his date parted at the door, Jimin didn’t even bother pretending like he’d call. He deleted the guy’s contact before he even got into the taxi, a new record. Too mentally exhausted to even contemplate what he’d do with the rest of his evening, Jimin slumped in his seat, head pressed to the cool glass of the window.
Not even a block away from the restaurant, the taxi paused at a stoplight — coincidentally, on the same corner where Jimin had talked to Jungkook. Without thinking, Jimin craned his neck to look up the hill in the direction Jungkook had run towards home that night. When he realized what he was doing, he whipped his head in the opposite direction, clenching his fists in his lap.
Just how far was he going to let this go? Jimin felt like he was really losing it. It wasn’t like Jungkook was going to come bounding down the hill, his purple hair flying behind him, at that exact moment. Even if he did, what did Jimin think would happen? Was he planning to jump out of the car, run up to Jungkook — and say what exactly? Jimin was not nearly bold enough, and didn’t care about Jungkook nearly enough, to do something as reckless as that.
The light turned green, the taxi started to move away, and the moment was gone — but it put a dangerous idea into Jimin’s head.
🍜
Instead of putting Jungkook and the terrible idea out of his mind, Jimin had impulsively gone ahead with it. He’d suggested what he now thought of as Jungkook’s restaurant to his next date.
Jimin had had an exhausting week at the store. The guy had been pressing him to make solid plans, and insisted Jimin pick the location. Instead of feeling like he was taking Jimin’s preferences into consideration, it felt like a slick move to get on Jimin’s good side, and that had not bode well for this guy already.
So, maybe Jimin had been a touch distracted and hadn’t thought it through completely. It was the first restaurant that popped up, since he’d been there the most recently. That was as good an excuse as he could come up with — that, or he’d tipped the scales onto the side of delusional.
Worse, Jimin arrived early and lingered around outside for longer than was necessary, trying to pretend he wasn’t hoping to run into Jungkook. But so what if he was? It didn’t hurt anyone to let himself indulge in the idea that Jungkook might walk by. No matter how many times Jimin stopped his pacing to stare down the block, there was never any sign of him. His eyes found only the faded sign of the CU convenience store and empty pavement. There was no reason to think he’d find anything else. Jungkook had probably forgotten Jimin even existed.
Once or twice in the past few months Jimin had imagined that he’d seen a flash of purple hair walking past his store in Myeongdong, but whenever Jimin stepped out the door, whoever it was — if it had really been anyone at all — had melted into the throngs of shoppers that always choked the streets.
The ludicrous wish that Jungkook would come to see Jimin was even more ridiculous than Jungkook just happening to walk down this exact street at this exact time. Why would Jungkook have bothered to make the trek, brave the crowds, just to see Jimin’s store — and not even come in? And why would he even care? Jungkook probably lived a charmed life like Taehyung did — he probably met a ton of people and made friends with all of them. Jimin presumed that Jungkook met cute boys everyday and flirted with them, because why wouldn’t he? Anyone with eyes in their head would fall for his charms.
Dozens of guys probably had Jungkook’s contact in their phones. They probably all loved eating cup ramen at the convenience store with him. Maybe toying with someone just long enough to make them feel like they were somehow special was Jungkook’s idea of fun. Now that Jimin thought more about it, he was sure that was the case. The sooner Jimin got that through his head — that he was no one special to Jungkook — the better.
🍜
“So, how do you know Taehyung-ssi?”
Woo Jae Seong was a personal trainer at Taehyung’s new gym, and he certainly looked the part. Jimin had to hand it to his best friend — this guy was much better looking than Taehyung’s recent choices for him. Physically fit, as Jimin would have expected, but young as well, maybe only a year or two older than Jimin. Hair slicked back off his face and sharp eyes were softened a bit by roundish cheeks, and he had a pleasant, soothing speaking voice. Jimin could almost forgive him for starting off with the most baseline question possible.
“Well, Taehyung-ah’s my best friend from way back, and he also happens to be my part time employee. We both started out as part timers in high school, but after Uni he got a full time job, while I stayed on,” Jimin explained for what felt like the umpteenth time. Every guy started off with that question — if they cared enough about Jimin to ask at all.
Their server came by to take their drink orders. “Cranberry Vodka, please,” Jimin said with a polite nod, hoping the alcohol would numb the pain that was sure to come.
“Bring us a bottle of champagne, if you would, doll,” Jae Saeng drawled with an affected simper aimed in Jimin’s direction. “Feel like celebrating tonight.”
Jimin resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the server took her leave, shooting Jimin a curious glance as she passed by him. Damn, maybe she recognizes me, Jimin thought with an uneasy lurch, but he shook it off. “Anyway, as I was saying, I'm the manager now, and I’m pretty sure Tae-yah still works there only to annoy me.”
Jae Seong laughed a little too hard, head thrown back and mouth agape, and Jimin soured. Now he knew what category to put this guy in. Ass kisser.
He only managed to stay in the ass kisser category until the server brought their appetizers — that’s when he graduated to a more uncomfortable category — presumptuous prick. Jimin had to clench his jaw as the guy started running his foot up Jimin’s calf under the table. “So, Taehyung says you work out?”
Jimin swallowed hard, tucking his feet underneath him, out of reach. “Work out is a bit of an exaggeration on Tae-yah’s part. I mostly use the treadmill,” he said, taking a big gulp of his second drink as soon as the server placed it in front of him. “Been a runner from way back.” The cocktail burned as it went down, sloshing in his stomach. Why is it so damn stuffy in here? Jimin wondered, pushing up his shirt sleeves.
“You should come down to the gym with Taehyung-ssi sometime. I’d love to show you some of the other equipment — I could spot you.” Jae Seong ran his tongue across his lips menacingly, eyeing Jimin like the Big Bad Wolf sizing up Red Riding Hood. “Wouldn’t want a pretty little thing like you to get hurt.” Jae Seong’s foot was searching for his leg under the table, and Jimin scooted his chair back, just a hair.
“I have a gym in my building, actually,” Jimin said, sitting up straighter and pulling his shoulders back, trying to exude calm, even though he was feeling anything but. His discomfort was making him twitchy, flighty. “I work out there, and I’ve tried other equipment — I just prefer to run. Alone,” he added firmly, trying to emphasize his point. “Did I mention I have a black belt in taekwondo?” His throat constricted, lungs struggling to pump enough air to keep Jimin above the waterline. He’d never felt this off balance on a date before, and they were barely through the first course.
“Sure, sure,” Jae Seong said with a dismissive wave. “At my gym we have top notch equipment, as I’m sure you already know. We could be workout buddies — I mean, running buddies, whatever you want. The treadmills are brand new, first class, top of the line.” He poured himself another glass of champagne, smirking as he appraised Jimin. Jimin’s skin prickled. “I bet you look great even after a ten mile run.”
“Is this a date or a sales pitch?” Jimin snapped.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I did come off a little strong there, didn’t I?” Jae Seong reached for Jimin’s hand, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles. Jimin gulped and looked away in feigned disinterest, hoping Jae Seong would get the hint, but instead he squeezed his hand more tightly, maybe a little desperately, trying to turn Jimin’s attention back to him. “I have a tendency to do that when I’m in the presence of a man as beautiful as you.” Beautiful, Jimin thought with a derisive snort. This guy couldn’t even be bothered to find a more imaginative word. Jimin closed his eyes to focus on calming his stomach which had begun to churn unpleasantly.
When Jae Seong lips met his knuckles, Jimin snapped his eyes open and immediately pulled his hand away in revulsion, unable to hide his grimace. His heart began to race, and the room began to spin, and he couldn’t breathe. He had to get away. Now.
“Everything ok, babe?” Jae Seong asked in genuine puzzlement.
“I — I have to use the bathroom,” Jimin choked out, grabbing only his phone before fleeing the table. He wiped the back of his hand, and hopefully all traces of the unwelcome kiss, on his pants.
Jimin barricaded himself in a stall, sweating and muttering to himself. “Fuck this. I need to get the fuck out of here.” He felt like a piece of meat — all these dates, all these men. They were just potential bidders sniffing around, poking and prodding, trying to determine the price they were willing to pay for him. Jimin groaned, lightly pounding his head on the metal door of the stall, trying to figure out what to do next, but the gears in his brain seemed to have seized up.
Anxiety thrummed through him. He couldn’t just leave — his coat and bag were at the table, and he wasn’t brave enough to march in there, grab his stuff and flip Jae Seong off as he calmly walked out the door. Not on these wobbly legs with his breath coming up short. The very idea of facing him made Jimin nauseous — what if Jae Seong prevented him from leaving, blocked his way, followed him out of the restaurant? Then what? Jimin wasn’t sure he could put his taekwondo skills to use when he was feeling so unwell.
Taehyung knew Jae Seong, sure, but how well did he really know him? Panic spread under Jimin’s skin. He placed a hand over his heart, which thudded hard beneath it, pounding almost as quickly as his racing thoughts. Dizziness made him lurch and he leaned heavily on the metal wall of the stall, his hand clammy against it.
Jimin tried to calm himself down, taking big gulping breaths and repeatedly telling himself he was being irrational. The chances of things going that wrong — dangerously wrong — were slim to none. There was nothing that had happened that night to support the idea that Jimin was in actual danger with Jae Seong. The guy was an ass kisser and had been borderline sexually harrassing Jimin — but damn, that was more than enough. Jimin wanted to get the fuck away.
Banging through the stall door, Jimin paced the bathroom, shoes tapping on tile floor, back and forth, back and forth as he eyed the door, afraid it would open at any moment. Stopping in front of the sink, he rinsed his hands and splashed water on his face, trying to cool himself down. He pushed the damp hair off his forehead as he glanced into the mirror — haunted eyes, and a pale face drawn tight in anxiety, stared back at him. He was almost unrecognizable to himself.
What the fuck was he doing here? What was he doing? What had happened to him? What had he become?
Jimin was done. He was so over it. All of it.
Done.
No more blind dates that made him feel worthless. No more putting himself out there on the auction block. No more hopes being dashed. No more searching for that one right person. It ended here and now.
If Jimin was destined to live his life alone, he might as well start getting used to the idea.
But first, he had to find a way out of this bathroom.
Jimin growled in frustration. In his haste to get away from Jae Seong he had literally cornered himself, and with each passing minute his anxiety rose. The risk of his date coming to look for him grew steadily stronger, and Jimin just couldn’t face him — not now, not like this, not when he felt so weak.
Get out kept replaying in his head.
Leave.
Thinking about the difficulty he would have in actually leaving this restaurant only brought one thing, one person to mind — but Jimin couldn’t do that. No way. Bad idea. Very bad. Dangerous .
Going against every rational bone in his body, Jimin pulled out his phone anyway, scrolling through his contacts quickly to find the picture of a certain purple-haired guy with a mischievous smile.
Jungkook hadn’t been afraid to bail on his date. He hadn’t been afraid to get up and leave, stealing away with another guy’s date as a bonus. He had quite literally snatched Jimin away from Dude, absconded with him into the city streets without so much as a backwards glance.
Jungkook would never find himself in this position, cornered and panicky in a restaurant bathroom.
“Hello?”
It had barely even registered with Jimin that he’d actually pushed call until he heard Jungkook’s voice.