Archive of Our Own

There is a variety of noises that Jimin expects to hear when working in the hospital. There is the squeaking of shoes on the freshly cleaned floors. The whirr of the coffee machine in the breakroom, gossipping behind the computer screens when all is calm, or the almost unintelligible muttering through pagers as people run past. There is the excited laughter of children who are meeting their new siblings for the first time, and there is the anguished wailing of a stranger who has just lost the person they loved most in the world. All of these are expected. Daily occurrences, even. But what Jimin never anticipated to be confronted with after a twelve hour shift was…

Gunshots. 

And terrified screaming.

Muffled footsteps could be heard from outside as people started running in all directions. Jimin’s own footsteps sounded clear as day through the hospital corridors, in sync with the numerous others running for the windows, looking to find out what was going on. 

In front of the hospital entrance, a total of 6 black cars had pulled up – Jimin was never good with cars, so that was the only identifying feature he could list, apart from the huge build and tinted windows – and some men had gotten out of the cars, ducking behind the machinery and opening fire on each other, while others had simply rolled down their windows a bit, the barrel of some weapon just peeking out enough to inflict damage. 

Civilians and hospital visitors were taking cover behind pillars and the hospital flower stand, Jimin could even hear a baby wailing somewhere outside. All of it broke his heart and sent it into panicked overdrive.

“Get away from the window, Jimin!” Hoseok, his favorite colleague, hissed tensely as Jimin almost pressed his nose to the glass, eyes frantically searching for injured people. Luckily most of the bullets seemed to be carefully aimed at the strange men, only some stray bullets posing an immediate threat to innocents. The attackers seemed to not care deeply about anyone but them in their sudden, public war. 

Jimin took a step back from the window, just like Hoseok urged him to once he had time to assess the battlefield below. But not before making sudden, intense eye contact with one of the men ducked behind the most expensive-looking car. 

“What is going on?” Jimin whispered to his frightened colleagues, all of them mute in fear or helplessness, he couldn’t tell. 

“I don’t know, but it’s probably best to wait this out, try to remain unseen, and then help whoever has gotten caught in the crossfire of whatever this is.” Jimin turned to the owner of the voice – an old nurse called Yena, who had taken him under his wing when he first started this job several months ago. 

Her normally smiling mouth was pressed into a grim line, the wrinkles by her eyes which normally made her look approachable and warm, were now making her look old. 

“Somebody might be seriously hurt, though,” Jimin argued softly, head involuntarily turning back to the window. Jimin felt antsy and helpless. 

“Maybe,” Yena conceded easily, surprising Jimin. “But you will be of no use to them if you run out there and get injured or killed as well.” 

Seokjin, another senior-nurse from his department, which Jimin loved working with, was staring tensely at his pager as he leaned against the wall at the back of the room. “Paramedics have been dispatched to deal with a shootout ten minutes from here, which seems to have moved to here now,” he finally relayed the whole information. “Once they deem it safe, we will have a batch of ten moderately to severely injured pedestrians waiting for us in the ER, on top of the ones right at our doorstep.” He sounded extremely calm, but Jimin could see Seokjin’s legs shaking. This wasn’t a walk in the park, not even to him. 

So, although Jimin’s instinct to help blared at him agonizingly, Jimin stayed ducked behind the windows of the second floor break room, as gunshots sounded through the streets like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. It was killing him to hide instead of help at the moment, but it wasn’t safe, and there were more casualties expected to arrive for treatment any second now. He could help them at least.

None of his coworkers dared to look outside, either because of fear of detection, or fear of what they would see on the streets. All of them were accustomed to blood – being squeamish was a no-go in their field of work – but seeing harm inflicted so openly, and blood spilt so maliciously, was enough to make any person’s stomach roil. There is a difference between blood shown medically and blood born from violence.

Eventually – after what seemed like an eternity – the gunshots grew further apart in frequency, and the anxious nurses could hear tires screeching as the attackers fled from the scene, finally satisfied with whatever they set out to do. Nobody dared to breathe for a few more agonizing seconds, until one of the newer nurses piped up from the back of the couch. 

“I mean… I know crime is rampant in our city – I have seen the occasional stab wound during my short time here as well – but a shootout in front of the hospital? Does that happen often?” the young man’s voice trailed off into a mousy squeak at the end of his question, betraying his attempt of being nonchalant about the very unexpected situation. 

“No,” Yena sighed as she stood up, her older bones protesting against her formerly crouched position. The nurse pulled her glasses off to clean them, to hide the trembling of her fingers, but Jimin noticed. He always noticed when any of his coworkers were uneasy.

He too got up slowly, his eyes instantly straying to the window as his stomach filled with heavy dread. What would he find when he chanced a look outside? Would it be a massacre? Would there be anyone to save? Did they wait too long?

Only now did Jimin realize that he hadn’t even thought about calling the police. He sincerely hoped that someone else inside or outside the hospital had.

He slowly inched closer to the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he peered outside. 

Blood was bespeckling the hospital driveway like confetti on carnival. There were two bodies lying forgotten on the pavement, their limbs sprawled awkwardly on the cement, blood pooling under their bodies from various bullet wounds decorating their torsos. Their guns lying next to them – one with the finger still on the trigger – identified them as two of the attackers. 

Jimin swallowed down his tears, relieved that no innocents seemed to have lost their lives, but some of the tears already stemmed from the grief of the wasted lives of the attackers. What led them down this path? Could they have been saved? No human was born evil, in Jimin’s opinion.

He was about to turn away and relay the information to the rest of his colleagues when he noticed the faint wails of a small child hidden behind the hospital flower stand. The sound was muffled by the distance and the glass separating them, but Jimin still picked up on them. They belonged to a little girl, her pigtails askew on her head and tear streaks on her flushed cheeks. 

She was clutching at her leg, blood seeping through her tiny fingers and coloring her blue striped tights into a gruesome purple. A stray bullet must have hit her.

Before Jimin could even think, he was bounding down the stairs in his orthopedic shoes, determined to get the small child into safety and treated as quickly as possible. All alarmed shouts of his name stayed ignored. He didn’t know where her parents were, but that was a question for a calmer minute. 

The cold raised the hairs on his arms as he bounded into the October air, head quickly swiveling about to find the little child in her hiding place. She instantly looked up with wide and teary eyes as Jimin crouched down in front of her, slightly out of breath. 

He tried his best to smile comfortingly at her, even as his hands shook from anxiety and he had to claw at his crouched knees to stop the little one from noticing. “Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed as soothingly as he could to keep the child at ease. His training with child patients really came in handy at that moment. “That was quite scary before, wasn’t it? But you were so brave! I’m sure you were extremely scared and that you’re in a bit of pain, but I’m gonna make it all better with the other nice doctors and nurses, hm?” 

The small child nodded her head, trying her best to suppress her soft whimpers of pain to truly appear as brave as Jimin had named her. His heart broke for her. 

“I’m gonna try to pick you up now and bring you inside so we can take a look at that leg, okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” But before Jimin could put his arms around her small frame to pick her up, a car came screeching around the corner, making Jimin jump out of his skin. 

It was one of the massive black cars with the tinted windows from before. Jimin’s blood ran cold as he protectively stood in front of the little girl. The car came to a screeching halt right in front of the two of them, the backdoor opening before all four wheels even stood still. 

Jimin could see three men in the quite spacious back of the vehicle, before a suit-jacketed hand with blood on the white hem of the dress-shirt shot out and grabbed Jimin by his scrubs. 

Before he could even scream, he was pulled into the car, the door slammed shut, and the wheels in motion again. It was all happening so fast Jimin had no time to process his sudden kidnapping.

The atmosphere inside was panicked, something Jimin didn’t expect as he was pushed to the floor in front of the guy in the middle who was bleeding profusely from his side, the formerly white material of his shirt stained in red like a blossoming rose. It was sticking to his skin, a tear in the fabric, which Jimin identified as a possible bullet entry.

“Do something!” the man who had grabbed him barked angrily at Jimin, yanking at his shoulder hard and forcing Jimin to break his fall against the knees of the injured man out of fear he would faceplant into the floor. There were guns lying by their feet, and Jimin didn’t know if they had the safety on.

Now that Jimin was this close and he had a second to acclimate to his kidnapped situation, he could identify the man in the middle as the man he had made eye contact with briefly at the start of the shooting. It sent a jolt through his body as they made eye contact again.

His eyes still held the same intensity as before as he took in the blonde nurse at his feet, but his eyebrows were scrunched together in a clear sign of pain.

“Heal him!” the order once again came from the man’s lackey at his side, Jimin enduring another shove to his shoulder as he glared at the culprit. The man was beginning to severely piss him off, and he wasn’t too positively inclined towards the others either.

“Would you care to tell me what you want me to do here in this cramped, moving car without any of my usual equipment?” he asked through a fake smile, his eyes betraying how mad he truly was. The car hit a pothole at that exact time, almost as if trying to underline the point Jimin was trying to make. The gun on his left skittered into his knee, making Jimin flinch.

His patient let out a breathless chuckle at his sass, one bloody hand reaching out to placatingly press against his coworker’s chest. It left a bloody handprint on the already soiled fabric but managed to calm the man down enough so he leaned back in his seat.

“Sorry to whisk you off the street in the way that we did,” he apologized suavely, his voice oddly clipped from the pain, no doubt. Jimin could look through his nonchalantness easily, identifying the pain he was trying to hide. Apart from the physical pain he must have been in, he seemed oddly detached.

At the realization, the blonde’s eyes instantly zeroed back in on the clear bullet wound decorating his side, eyeing it worriedly. He knew that the person in front of him likely deserved it since he probably had inflicted the same — if not worse — on other people, but still, he was human, and Jimin was a firm believer in doing what he could to alleviate pain to all people.

“I don’t know where we’re driving, but if it isn’t a hospital, then I don’t know what you expect me to do,” he mumbled crossly, finding the eyes of his captor once again. “Why did you take me anyway? You know that this is kidnapping.” His voice held firm even through the fear a situation like this would pump through everybody.

“We’re mostly trying to dodge police right now,” the injured man shrugged, looking out of the tinted windows over his silent companion’s head. “I’m sure you understand why I can’t simply stroll into your hospital and ask for treatment, right?”

Jimin was intrigued by the man’s calm demeanor. He had seen many men cry for their mothers with far less severe injuries before. And here the man was, staring out the window with not even a tremble in his fingertips.

Jimin followed his gaze, debating on what he should do. “Why did you do it?” he finally asked, thinking back on the small child he had unwillingly abandoned behind the flower stand. He sincerely hoped one of his colleagues had gone down to help her once Jimin was taken.

“They killed my sister.”

His eyes quickly flitted back to the dark-haired man in the middle seat, finding his face contorted in anguish of a different kind. Jimin didn’t believe in the morality of paying death with death, but seeing the clear emotional pain and loss in the man’s eyes was something Jimin understood all too well. So when he looked away again, he found himself saying something that he didn’t expect of himself but also did not wish to take back.

“Take me back to the hospital so I get the necessary instruments for a bullet extraction,” he announced with a strong voice full of conviction. “Then drive to the address I give you. I’ll meet you there as fast as I can.”

He was expecting full compliance as the man’s lackeys seemed so eager to get him help just a second ago, but instead Jimin was met with a rather rude snort coming from his left. 

“Yeah, right, blondie” the man chuckled grossly, peering at him with condescension. “We’re just gonna drive you back to the hospital, let you get out and then drive to a location you tell us as if you wouldn’t call the police on us the second this car door closed behind you.”

Jimin glared at the man, feeling emboldened by his anger. “You can do that or your friend here can die because what the fuck do you think I can do without the necessary equipment?”

The tension in the car was suddenly diffused by the injured man’s laughter, though it was quickly interrupted by a groan of pain. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

“A firecracker who can save your life but only under certain conditions,” Jimin replied dryly before turning back to the man who had put up most of a fight until now. 

“And what if your conditions aren’t met?”

“Then I will die in this car and all this gas used to drive in circles right now will be wasted.”

All eyes flitted back to the bleeding man in the middle seat. He had a resigned smile on his face as if the prospect of imminent death didn’t scare him. As if he didn’t care at all. 

Jimin saw the pure emptiness in his eyes and it scared him a little. “I won’t let you die.” His voice didn’t waver as he spoke. Their eye contact was magnetic. 

After a second he pulled away, instead finding the eyes of the opposition again, eyebrows raised in question. Or will I?, they seemed to say. 

So there he was, ten minutes later, dodging the frantic questions of his worried coworkers as he made his way to the supply closet of the hospital. He knew it was suspicious to raid the hospital’s supplies after just being returned from what very well was a kidnapping situation, but he managed to placate Hoseok and Seokjin by telling them it was for the little girl who had been moved to the ER minutes after he was taken.

It was a lot more difficult to sneak back out of the hospital with all of his loot and get to his car, worry for the bleeding man he had sent away at the back of his mind the entire time. He had tried to stifle the bleeding as best as he could with the instruments he had at his disposal in the back of the car on their return journey to the hospital, but he still needed urgent treatment if he was to make a full recovery.

He couldn’t sneak any blood transfusion bags out of the hospital though, so he sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up into the garage of his apartment building, still in his scrubs. He could see the black car parked near the elevator doors and made a beeline straight over, finding the injured man and dumb and dumber right where he told them to wait.

“How’s the bleeding?” he asked instead of a greeting when he made his way over to them, noting the sweat on his brow worriedly. But when he stood up on only slightly wobbly feet, Jimin was reassured that he was not in as bad of a state as he initially feared.

“Pretty good. Slow,” the man mumbled quietly, balancing against the wall as Jimin called the elevator with his keys.

“I won’t let them come up with us,” he said without turning around, stepping into the elevator when the doors opened with a soft ‘ding’. He didn’t know why he was so emboldened to speak this way to them, but he somehow felt like he was safe with the injured man as a bargaining chip in his hand. Besides he really disliked them both. 

“As if we’d just let you take him, blondie!” the one with anger issues hissed at Jimin, eyes narrowing into slits as he made to step into the elevator. But one shake of his boss’s head and he stopped, looking at him with disbelief.

“Wait here,” he simply instructed, then followed Jimin into the elevator. The ride up was silent and awkward, only interrupted by the semi-labored breathing of the other man next to him.

As soon as they made it into Jimin’s apartment — not without the worry of detection on Jimin’s part — he instructed the man to sit down on a dining chair while he started sterilizing the area.

Taking care of a bullet wound wasn’t something Jimin did on a daily basis, so he had to take several steadying breaths before he felt ready to attempt his at-home surgery on the man. 

With his tools and working surface sanitized, he turned back to his patient, trying to sound as professional as possible as he instructed the stranger in his room to “undress for me please”. 

The stranger did so without any complaints, but the intense eye contact as he unbuttoned his shirt made Jimin blush to the tips of his ears, so he quickly turned around so he wouldn’t see. 

“You should take off your belt as well to bite it. I couldn’t get my hands on any anesthesia,” he mumbled apologetically. Seconds later he heard the soft scraping of a belt sliding out of belt loops, and when he felt calm enough to turn back around, he found the mobster reclined in his dining chair, shirt open and dangling from his wrists and his belt wedged between sparkling white teeth. 

His torso was glistening with a cold sweat and moving up and down in a labored fashion. If he wasn’t so obviously in pain, Jimin could even think it was quite an erotic sight. He quickly shook his head in an attempt to physically shake off these thoughts, and stepped up with an alcohol-soaked rag to clean the skin around the bullet wound. 

He took care to clean the surrounding skin as gently as possible, but still his patient flinched and unleashed the occasional grunt of pain. “I’m sorry,” Jimin kept mumbling every time, but there still wasn’t much he could do. 

He had never performed any type of procedure quite as painful as this without anesthesia, so he had no idea what he should expect either. It was difficult to push down the panic he felt, but he soldiered on through for the sake of his patient. 

“I have to clean the wound to see what we’re dealing with,” he mumbled softly, fingers shaking with anxiety as he held up the bottle of alcohol. He had no idea how to do this any better at home so he decided to just go for it. “It’s going to hurt a lot,” he tagged on with a nervous smile. 

The man looked at him through misty eyes, his chest moving up and down rapidly from the pain. “Just do it,” he spoke through clenched teeth, so Jimin bit his lip and poured the bottle over the wound. 

The belt did little to muffle his screams as the alcohol made contact with his open flesh. He began convulsing in pain as if trying to move away, almost tipping over the chair as he bowed his spine violently. 

Jimin had just enough time to steady the man by his shoulder and keep him from cracking his skull on his hardwood floors. “I’m so sorry!” He almost keened as he watched the alcohol-diluted blood stream down in rivulets. 

Screams turned into soft moans of pain eventually, and Jimin came to the stark realization that whatever he was doing here in his dining room had very little resemblance with his medical training at all. 

“This chair won’t do. I’ll have to get you reclined on my couch,” he mumbled more to himself than the almost passed out man before him. He already mourned the comfy white material as it would inevitably get ruined by all the blood. 

“Can you walk?” he asked hesitantly, noting the half-lidded eyes of his patient. 

To his surprise, he nodded his head, belt falling from between his lips as he mumbled a decided, “yeah”. 

So Jimin and the stranger slowly and strenuously moved to the pristine white couch that was Jimin’s most prized possession and laid the man down on his favorite throw pillow with a cat in sunglasses on it. 

“Press this on,” Jimin instructed as he pressed gauze into the man’s hand, before leaving to retrieve the belt again. 

With it back securely in his mouth, Jimin removed the gauze, which had significantly slowed down the bleeding so he could now take a look at the wound. “I don’t think it hit any vital organs or arteries, so you’re lucky,” he mumbled after a while, gently prodding at the edges of the wound. “The bullet is also still whole, which should make removal a little easier. I’ll still have to cut a bit though to get to it.”

Jimin instructed him to once again apply pressure while Jimin moved his setup to the coffee table and sanitized everything again. 

The man nodded and tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position as Jimin sat down next to him, scalpel in hand. The injured man eyed the tool warily, then put the belt back between his teeth again, each tooth perfectly fitting the grooves they had made there previously. 

“Try to stay still please,” Jimin asked, face scrunched up in concentration as he started making a small incision to open the wound further and make bullet extraction a little easier. 

The mobster screamed again in pain, Jimin holding him still by leaning his whole weight on his chest and pinning him to the couch. Blood was seeping into the white material as Jimin pulled the invasive object out with his tweezers, careful to keep his hand as straight as possible. 

“You still with me?” he asked after the bullet fell onto the coffee table with a dull clang. At this point his patient was barely awake, all fight gone out of him and voice hoarse from the screaming. 

“Yeah,” he rasped weakly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He didn’t protest when Jimin started stitching the wound closed, the needle penetrating his skin. It was a little worrying to have him suddenly be so quiet, but Jimin monitored his breathing while he was stitching and it seemed to stay consistent and strong, so he decided to carry on. 

He was barely awake and extremely sweaty when Jimin finally finished stitching and sanitizing the wound. He exhaled shakily as he admired his handiwork. It would have been a lot easier if they actually had anesthesia on hand. But despite this huge hurdle, he thought he did decent work. 

His joints protested loudly as he stood up with a groan. The noise alerted the half-conscious man on his couch and his eyelids fluttered open to look at Jimin. For a barely conscious man, his eyes still were intense and Jimin had to look away lest he blush. He was sure he looked gross after this whole ordeal. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water with some pain killers. Then try to sleep,” he instructed. He helped the mobster drink and swallow the pill by propping his head up and providing a straw. Silence settled around them, and Jimin finally had time to mourn his expensive, and comfortable couch. 

“I loved this couch,” he sighed with a wry smile, taking in the absolute murder scene imprinted forever in the material. 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” 

Jimin flinched, having thought that the man had passed out already but finding his eyes on him groggily. He chuckled weakly, then closed his eyes and became dead to the world. 

Now that the brunt of the situation was over and Jimin had informed the man’s lackeys about his state and how he will have to be monitored for at least a night, Jimin could finally shower off all the anxiety, sweat, and blood. 

He felt so much better immediately upon stepping out of the shower, water droplets painting starry constellations on his bath mat. 

Dressed in his most comfortable loungewear and a towel draped over his shoulders, Jimin made his way back to the man passed out on his couch, checking his temperature and the state of the wound. 

As he crouched there, gazing at the stranger’s face, Jimin realized for the first time that he didn’t even know the man’s name. The only information he had on him at all was that he shot up and hurt a bunch of people, which wasn’t really a comforting thing to know about a stranger in your home. But still, Jimin’s big heart had won over his fear and morals and now that was the situation he was faced with. 

A violent stranger. In his home. On his couch.

Jimin shook his head at his own decisions. There was nothing he could do about it now, so he chose to simply go to bed, triple-check if his door was locked properly, and worry about the rest in the morning. He probably couldn’t attack Jimin if he tried – given the very crude surgery he had just performed on him – but as Seokjin would always tell Jimin when he made fun of him for double-checking the expiration date of the milk in the breakroom – better safe than sorry. 

The next morning, Jimin was awoken by a loud crash in the kitchen, accompanied by a loud groan of annoyance. It took Jimin’s sleep-addled mind just a few seconds until he could remember the happenings of the day prior and draw a connection between the noise that woke him and yesterday. 

“Shit!” he cursed as he jumped out of bed and almost slipped on a sock on the hardwood floor. He caught himself on his dresser just in time before he too would have become injured, then quickly ran to the kitchen where he found the stranger up and clutching onto the kitchen island, face formed into a grimace of pain. 

“You shouldn’t be up!” Jimin’s voice cracked from disuse as he scolded the man, gently turning him to see what was wrong. “What are you doing?” 

“I was trying to go to the bathroom but bumped into the pan on the way past,” the stranger grumbled, voice laced with discomfort. The culprit pan was still sitting handle-out on the countertop where Jimin left it to soak the day before – although now precariously close to the edge. 

“Get back to the couch, I have to have a look at your wound first. What if you ripped open your stitches?!” This was not the way Jimin usually liked to start his mornings – especially his work free ones. 

With some more – weak – protest, the man returned to the couch, while Jimin got the necessary materials to refresh the bandage around the stitched up area. He also filled another glass of water with some painkillers, before returning to the ruined couch and the patient reclined on top of it. 

“I really need to pee, you know,” he mumbled as Jimin took a seat next to him, starting to slowly undress the bandage. 

“I’m just redressing your wound and making sure you are okay. Then you can get to it,” Jimin mumbled softly, inspecting the stitched skin. 

Luckily, everything seemed fine and there was no infection or ripping of stitches from the earlier bump in the kitchen. After redressing the bullet wound, Jimin gave him the pain killers and the go-ahead to use the bathroom on his own. 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, by the way,” the stranger announced as he returned, sinking back into the formerly white cushions with a soft groan. 

Jimin was surprised by his boldness to tell him his name. He was a witness to his cruelty in fact, so he could very well turn him in to the authorities now, but on second thought, Jimin guessed he could have done that already while he was out cold after the “surgery”, so he was probably right in the assumption that Jimin wouldn’t, even after telling his name.

“I’m Jimin,” he finally answered after a few seconds of tense silence, in which Jimin could feel Jungkook’s intense gaze burn into his cheek. 

“Jimin,” the man repeated as if savoring the sound on his tongue, and Jimin finally found the courage to look at him directly. It was a lot more difficult now that he wasn’t in such bad shape anymore. 

“Thank you for helping me yesterday. Not many people would have.”

That too surprised the smaller male, who had anticipated no show of gratitude at all from the criminal on the couch. This Jungkook was a lot more civil than he had expected him to be. 

“I am a nurse. I can hardly leave a patient in need of help unattended,” he mumbled curtly to try to mask his surprise. 

The other man grinned as if he knew. “Still. And I also want you to know that it wasn’t my intention to endanger this many civilians. It wasn’t us who opened fire in front of the hospital.”

Jimin nodded, unsure about how trustworthy the man’s statements truly were but accepting them nonetheless. Because it made it easier to accept the fact that he took in this criminal in the first place. 

There was a short lull in conversation as both just stared at each other for a few seconds, unsure how to continue in this bizarre situation.

Finally, Jimin decided to just come up with some ground rules for how their short co-living situation would transpire. “Okay, so-” he started, catching the man’s attention again from where he started typing on his phone.

Jimin hadn’t even realized that he had pulled it out in the first place. Nor did he know where he had kept it last night.

“So I will need to monitor your stitches for at least another day or two before I can safely send you back home, and preferably, I would like to see you again in another week to remove them if everything heals well, but before we even get to that point, I need to explain some ground rules for how this short living situation is going to work,” Jimin started.

Jungkook put his phone down at his words, giving Jimin his whole attention, which he appreciated. He was very respectful, surprisingly.

“Sure. What are your conditions.”

Jimin was reeling for a split second before he could continue. “Uhm- No lackeys while you’re staying here. I don’t like them. I don’t want them to know my apartment number. I don’t want them in my home. Secondly, no one comes and goes without my permission, and that includes you. I need to be able to monitor your condition in case it worsens quickly.”

Jimin kept counting on his fingers. “Also, I need you to stay inconspicuous. My wall-to-wall neighbor is my best friend, he is extremely nosy, and he has a key to my apartment. I do not under any circumstances want to be forced to explain what an injured hunk is doing in my apartment, alright?”

“Uh- sure,” Jungkook chuckled nervously at the last part. “Can I borrow some clothes and a charger then? Unless you prefer me in my blood stained clothes, of course.”

And, so, the tone for their 24 hours together was set. 

Jimin’s apartment wasn’t small for normal standards. And most of the time he was completely content with the amount of space that he had – sometimes even overwhelmed really – but now that he was forced to share it with a stranger, it seemed like all walls were closing in around them at the most inopportune times. 

In the past 24 hours, Jimin managed to bump into Jungkook in front of the bathroom three times, almost walking in on him on the toilet once. In the same vein, he also once left the door to the bathroom open while he showered because he forgot he wasn’t alone. Thankfully, no awkward run-in happened at that time. Jimin didn’t think he could survive  if it happened. 

But despite those few clumsy encounters, Jimin mostly didn’t even notice Jungkook was there. He rarely left the bloody couch – only occasionally migrating to the window to stare out at the roof of the building opposite Jimin’s, where one man kept doves. 

He didn’t ask for anything, not for food, water or painkillers but Jimin never failed to deliver. The complete apathy was worrying to the nurse because even though Jungkook seemed to heal well physically, Jimin could tell that some wounds under the surface are beyond his skill to treat. 

So the following afternoon – even though everything in Jimin’s soul protested against it – Jimin let the man walk out of his front door and to the car waiting outside the complex. He had to remind himself that whatever mental struggle was brewing under the man’s skin, he wasn’t equipped to heal. 

Jimin sighed wistfully as he leaned against his open doorway, staring down the stairs Jungkook had just descended. He was so deep in his own thoughts and lamenting his savior complex, that he didn’t notice the apartment door next to him creak open, and a familiar curly, brown mop peer out and study his face. 

“Why do you look like Kate Winslet hanging off the back of the titanic right now?” 

The terrified squawk that left Jimin at the sudden voice next to him was atrocious, but the laughter following even more deranged. 

Taehyung fell back into his own apartment with the force of his laughter, only his fingers clawing at the door frame betraying his presence. 

“You scared the shit out of me, you asshole!” Jimin whined as he rounded on his best friend, staring at him from the hallway, one hand positioned on his hip ‘menacingly’ and the other covering his heart. 

Taehyung was clutching at his stomach as he stood doubled over in his apartment hallway, tears streaming down his face as he gasped for air between laughter. “I should’ve filmed this moment!” he choked out between his fits. Then he tried imitating Jimin’s noise of terror. 

Grabbing the baseball bat that Taehyung always kept next to the front door in case of emergency, he jokingly rounded on the other man, pulling his chin up to look at him with the end of the bat. 

“So you think that’s funny, huh?” he challenged, trying his very best to keep the amusement off his face but knowing he wouldn’t succeed. Besides, Taehyung knew him too well to fall for his mock-anger anyway. 

“Would you please refrain from murdering my boyfriend, Jimin? I have no doubt he deserves it but I’d like to keep him anyway,” another voice drawled out with an exasperated sigh right after the elevator door behind the two men opened. 

Jimin turned his head to see Yoongi walk out of the elevator, long black hair tousled by his hands and glasses hanging on his coat collar. He looked like the textbook definition of the word “tired” to Jimin, and he often urged Yoongi to pick his battles and choose himself sometimes, but the lawyer never listened to anyone but maybe Taehyung, and even he was losing battles on that front. 

“You look exhausted,” Taehyung frowned, speaking right out of Jimin’s soul as he stood up to greet his boyfriend at the door. 

Jimin stepped away as Yoongi crossed the door threshold, putting one arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders to press a soft peck to the other’s pouty lips. “I’m feeling much better now,” he mumbled softly into Taehyung’s cheek, then proceeded to take off his shoes, leaving Jimin feeling more single than ever after the exchange. Maybe he should leave…

“I made mozzarella sticks,” Taehyung called after the lawyer as he walked deeper into his apartment, turning back to face Jimin a second later. His voice instantly switched from soft and loving to the forceful nosy one he normally sported around Jimin – but Jimin knew this one too stemmed out of love, albeit a different kind. 

“Why were you Kate Winsleting in your doorway earlier?” 

“I totally wasn’t Kate Winsleting, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin countered, bat raised in defense again. 

Taehyung squared up too, fists raised in front of his face, ready for the match. 

“Jimin, wanna stay over for dinner?” Yoongi suddenly called from the kitchen, as if he could sense the blooming altercation in the hallway. It was the perfect distraction for the nurse to quickly accept and dispel Taehyung’s thoughts from the scene he had witnessed in the hallway. 

He really wasn’t prepared to divulge his “kidnapping-to-personal-nurse-to-roommate-pipeline-situation” to his best friend and his boyfriend yet. He honestly doubted he would ever be, since he knew how good Yoongi was at conveying utter disappointment and disapproval with his eyes and Jimin never wanted a stare like that to be directed at him. Ever. 

Having dinner with his two friends not only managed to make Taehyung get off Jimin’s back, but also helped himself forget about the man with the bullet wound for a little while, until he came back to get his stitches removed of course. 

Jimin made sure to choose a time when neither Taehyung nor Yoongi were home to remove Jungkook’s stitches. They owned a key to his apartment for emergencies that Taehyung rarely used for actual emergencies and mainly boredom, so Jimin knew that he had to be extra careful to eliminate every chance of the other finding out about the criminal Jimin would be harboring for that time. 

He had been lucky that Taehyung hadn’t decided to break and enter legally while Jungkook was staying there for two nights. He wouldn’t be this careless again. 

When Jungkook entered Jimin’s apartment that evening, he looked a lot better than the last time Jimin saw him. He was moving more freely, a healthy glow had replaced the anemic paleness of his skin, and he obviously had showered off all the grime that he couldn’t before. 

His hair was gelled back and he was wearing a suit again, which gave Jimin the impression that he was already “working” again. That knowledge weighed heavy in his stomach. 

“How are you?” Jimin asked softly as both of them sat down on his murder couch, which he now always kept covered with as many colorful throwblankets as possible. He was desperate to keep the state of it a secret from anyone who would visit. 

Jungkook grinned crookedly as he shrugged his shoulders. “I barely feel it most of the time,” he mused, hands wandering to his shirt buttons, clearly just waiting for the go-ahead from Jimin to strip down in front of him.

Jimin gulped, eyes quickly flitting from his hands back to his face. “That’s… good,” he finally mumbled, choosing to focus on his words instead of his slender and tattooed fingers on the buttons of his shirt.

All the equipment for a successful stitch removal was laid out on his coffee table already, sanitized and everything. Jimin came prepared this time, even though this procedure would be far more harmless than the last time he had used his medical training in his own four walls.

At least he hoped so, as making mistakes now would not only be uncomfortable for the man in front of him, but also extremely embarrassing.

“You can take off your shirt now and lie down for me,” he instructed with his best professional voice while he put on his gloves. There was rustling on the sofa in front of him as Jungkook took off his clothing for easier access, Jimin paying him no mind as he knew his cheeks would flame up awfully if he chanced a look.

His cheeks always gave him away, and he would never live it down if Jungkook caught him sneaking glances at his very attractive body.

Jimin didn’t really know what it was about the man that made all professionalism fly out the window with a giddy “yippie!” because he never had problems staying professional with anyone else before. He normally prided himself on his ability to calmly deal with all sorts of emotions when his profession was concerned.

Abs.

Jimin knew Jungkook’s body type — he had just recently patched it up, of course — but it truly was difficult to move past the chiseled physique now that there was no imminent life threat in the form of a bullet wound or potential sepsis.

There were tattoos snaking down the man’s left pectoral, stemming from the full sleeve creeping down from his shoulder. All the artwork was in shades of black and gray, swirls of clouds and traditionally drawn dragons winding around the planes of his body as if entangled in a dance.

Jimin quickly tore his gaze away when he realized the path his eyes were taking once again. “It looks good, we can remove the stitches today,” he quickly mumbled to cover up his staring, but considering from the distracted “hm” he got in response, it seemed like Jungkook hadn’t even noticed his wandering eyes.

Thankfully.

Before he could delay the procedure any further, Jimin got to work, quickly falling into a concentrated trance of cutting and pulling out the stitches, only occasionally tuning back into the real world when Jungkook would make some kind of discomforted grunt.

Removing stitches always felt unpleasant. Not necessarily painful, but simply weird. Jimin knew from firsthand experience after that one time he dropped his heavy glass sodastream bottle and it exploded on his tiles, a shard cutting his bare ankle very badly.

“We’re almost done,” Jimin whispered softly once he started pulling out the last stitch, his eyes trailing up to Jungkook’s face for the first time since he started his work.

He was surprised to find Jungkook’s eyes already trained on him with his usual intensity, head propped up by one arm for the correct angle. Jimin inwardly startled at their unexpected eye contact, but Jungkook stayed cool as a cucumber, not even batting an eye.

“Right,” Jimin whispered to himself as he looked back down at the task at hand, quickly but carefully finishing up and then beginning to put his equipment away so nobody could accidentally hurt themselves on anything.

“Just be careful, nothing is holding your wound together now. Try not to rip it open,” he instructed calmly, listening to the rustling of clothes as Jungkook got dressed again.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” the man in question answered gratefully in reply to Jimin’s warning, nimble fingers buttoning up his shirt with speed. Jimin was impressed by his skills which seemed to be honed by routine.

“Of course. No big deal,“ the blonde mumbled back, sinking into his armchair awkwardly, knees tucked into his chest as Jungkook made no move to leave.

The raven-haired man adamantly shook his head, leaning forward on his knees, eyes trained on Jimin with gravitas. “It is a big deal, Jimin. What you did for me that day after everything that you have seen me and my men do… nobody would have done. You have a good heart. Don’t risk it with the likes of me again.”

Jimin frowned as Jungkook suddenly stood, clearly wanting to leave after his cryptic last message to the nurse. He trailed behind on socked feet, catching the other man at the front door again.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned, still frowning. They were basically chest to chest now, Jimin’s small hand clawing at the door frame to keep the other from leaving without providing answers. Their proximity made their height difference even more apparent now.

Jungkook looked down at him from under his lashes, head slightly cocked to the side. “There are many dangerous people running around in this city, Jimin. I would hate to read about you in the newspaper someday.”

Jimin’s hand fell back to his side, stunned. Jungkook took the opportunity to slip by the smaller male, nodding once more in Jimin’s direction with a mumbled “thank you”, then he was gone again from Jimin’s life. For good this time.

Returning to normalcy after the brief encounter with the enigmatic mobster was somehow difficult for Jimin. At the most random times, he would pop back into Jimin’s memory, and his words would play back in his mind. “I would hate to read about you in the newspaper someday.”

Jimin still wasn’t quite sure how to take those words. Were they intended to be simple words of gratitude and a wish for Jimin to stay safe? Or was it a warning about a threat on his life? The uncertainty of those words never quite lifted off of his shoulders, hiding away in a dark corner of Jimin’s brain constantly, only flaring up when Jimin was confronted with another victim of gang violence in the E.R.

There weren’t more gang-related injuries than usual, but they stuck out to Jimin more now. His thoughts always swirling around the mysterious man when he was stitching up another wound.

It also didn’t help that Hoseok and Seokjin kept nagging Jimin for more information on his “kidnapping situation” a few weeks prior. Jimin never quite knew what to say to them, somehow reluctant to share any information about Jungkook — even if it wasn’t identity-compromising.

“I can’t really remember. It all happened so fast and the car was dark, I didn’t see his face,” he kept repeating over and over every time he got cornered in the break room or in a supply closet with either of the two devils.

He had to repeat the phrase so often, that it already turned into an automated phrase, altering his memories of that particular first encounter until his brain almost believed them to be the truth.

But he remembered the screams and the blood, and the passed out, pale face on his stained red couch. And the hard muscles of a sweaty chest, and the intense charcoal eyes that seemed to drown out the world once they locked on you. He remembered Jungkook in an almost photographical sense that was both exhilarating and concerning.

Jungkook was still an enigma to Jimin. He basically knew nothing about the man apart from his intensity and chest — a weird combination for sure.

And he would never see him again. He would never be able to puzzle out the juxtaposition of his kind words and bloody profession. It was driving Jimin just a little bit insane.

But he could manage. He did agree with Jungkook that it would probably be best to stay off the radar of any other gang affiliates — for his own safety and the safety of his loved ones. It would be extremely unwise to start a makeshift clinic for mafiosi in his living room. Even though his couch would fit that particular vibe quite well.

“Jimin, I’m worried about you,” Seokjin’s gravely voice shook him out of his musings, the other man’s lunch tray clattering loudly on the cafeteria table, Hoseok setting his own down a lot more gently on Jimin’s other side.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked in confusion, head lifting from his propped up hand to focus on Seokjin. He had completely forgotten about his untouched meal on his own tray, quickly picking up his chopsticks to get some food into him before he had to go back to work.

“I am worried about how chill you are after being kidnapped by a volatile gang just a few weeks ago. “

Jimin groaned in annoyance at having to regurgitate the same topic once more. “There is nothing to be not fine about! I can’t remember much and it all happened so quickly there wasn’t anything to get traumatized by!” 

Hoseok sat down his juice pouch with a little too much gravitas at Jimin’s words, making the blonde fear for what was about to follow. Serious Hoseok was never a good time. 

“Jimin… Taehyung told me you were Kate Winsleting after your kidnapping. All Rose-after-the-dinner-hanging-off-the-ass-of-the-ship-like.”

“He did not say that to you!” Jimin gasped at the sheer audacity of his best friend. The gossiping little bitch really wasn’t helping his case at all. 

But right when Jimin was about to pop off and forcefully make it clear that he was okay, Jimin looked at Hoseok and noticed the anxiety and affection behind his eyes. 

He realized that they weren’t nosy simply for being nosy, but because they were genuinely concerned for him. They cared. And Jimin couldn’t be mad at them for that, even if it was extremely annoying and kind of difficult to stay on top of the lies that way. 

Jimin quickly calmed down after that revelation, taking one of each of his friends’ hands in his own and squeezing. His eyes flitted from one to the other, trying to once again drive his point across. 

“I really appreciate your concern. Really. I promise you that I’m doing okay. I would tell you if I wasn’t, truly. The absolute truth is that nothing happened that day. They didn’t do anything to me. I know it sounds crazy but they let me go because I didn’t have anything of value to them.”

Hoseok nodded lightly, taking in Jimin’s words. He still doesn’t seem entirely convinced but with another look exchanged with Seokjin, Hoseok seemed to drop the subject. “I trust you, Min. And if you say you’re fine, then you’re fine until you tell us otherwise.”

Jimin smiled, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave. “Thanks, you two. Truly.”

When Jimin stepped out of the elevator in his own apartment complex, he didn’t know what had been more tiring that day; the hustle and bustle of the hospital or the lunch break talk with his two friends. 

Either way, Jimin was more than relieved to have the day end finally, have a hot shower and then cozy up in his favorite armchair in his most comfortable snuggle socks and read that one book that was collecting dust on his nightstand. 

Jimin unlocked the door with a weary sigh, cleaned his shoes on his welcome mat, and stepped inside. He took off the shoes at the threshold, lining them up next to the door, rolled his shoulders back to alleviate the tension that had been accumulating in his upper back over the whole hospital day, turned around and stared straight down the barrel of a gun that was aimed between his eyes. 

The whole world stopped for a second as Jimin realized what it was that was pointed at him in the (un)safety of his own home. 

He had never seen a gun this close before. Only ever dealt with the aftermath. 

Jungkook’s face flashed before his eyes. The most inopportune time to be reminded of the man who he had doctored up right on the very couch his attacker was standing behind. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you,” the man chuckled darkly, giving a formerly romantic phrase from countless male leads of movies a dark twist. 

Jimin took another step back, his heart beating wildly like a bird in a cage, panic overtaking every muscle in Jimin’s body. But outwardly, he was frozen in fear. 

“Jeon should have been more careful to hide his little toy if he didn’t want it to get broken.” The man slowly walked around the couch, every step of his heavy boots sending a jolt through Jimin. He couldn’t move. 

He could hardly breathe. . 

“Or maybe he didn’t care enough to keep you hidden properly? A shame really…” 

With his eyes now closed, Jimin could only listen to the footsteps stopping some feet away from him, the safety of the gun clicking off. “With lips like yours, I wouldn’t have let you out of my bedroom.” 

A tear rolled down Jimin’s cheek from behind his closed eyelids, as he made peace with his untimely death. He mourned for Taehyung, who would inevitably find him murdered when he would let himself in to check on him. His best friend would forever be changed. 

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. Jeon will join you soon once we’re done with him–”

The man’s monologue was cut short by the front door violently hitting the wall behind him, Jimin’s eyes flying open from sheer shock. 

His attacker dove behind Jimin’s couch for cover just as a strong arm snaked around Jimin’s waist, pulling him to a firm chest. Jimin could feel a strong heart beat quickly on his back, another arm pointing a gun over his shoulder at the attacker. 

The nurse turned his head slightly to see the grim side profile of just the man he had tried so hard to forget. Jungkook’s eyebrows were drawn low over his eyes in concentration, his arm steady as he aimed at the attacker behind the couch. 

“Really cheap of you to go after a nurse instead of taking up your vendetta with me personally,” he drawled out, sounding almost bored, if Jimin didn’t notice his nerves by his accelerated heartbeat. 

Jungkook maneuvered Jimin behind him as the other man stood up again, gun raised and locked onto him. 

Jimin couldn’t watch what was about to unfold in front of him, so he pressed his face in between Jungkook’s shoulder blades, eyes closed so tightly that static was flickering behind his eyelids. 

It didn’t feel good to hide behind another human being like they were some type of human shield, but Jimin couldn’t help making himself as small as possible to keep out of harm’s way as much as possible. Besides, Jungkook seemed to be able to handle himself just fine. 

“Another step closer and it’s going to be the last step you ever take.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through Jimin’s entire body. 

The intruder laughed humorlessly. “Really? Funny, your sister said the exact same thing before we knocked her down and tortured her slowly. Maybe you would like a demonstration with the blondie behind you? It was such a shame that you couldn’t witness it last time, but that can be rectifie–”

The gunshot was barely perceptible due to the silencer on Jungkook’s gun, but Jimin could almost feel the literal dead weight hit his living room floor. 

Jimin gasped as all fight left his body, knees giving out under him from the relief of being alive and the realization that a man who had threatened his life was just shot in his living room. All his locked muscles released at the same time. 

Jungkook quickly gathered him into his arms, shushing Jimin’s choked sobs with his shoulder, hands cradling his head like a father would his inconsolable toddler. 

“It’s over, I got you. I’m sorry that they came after you. I really hoped they wouldn’t.” His voice was gentle, almost crooning as he pulled Jimin’s head from his neck, making the blonde look at him. His eyes were dark and serious as ever and very easy to get lost in. 

Jimin barely noticed a suited man walk past Jungkook and into the living room, disposing of the body sprawled out on Jimin’s hardwood floor. Jimin willed himself to keep his eyes on Jungkook. 

Jungkook, who was cradling his head in the palms of his hands like he was holding something precious, wiping his tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

Jimin’s hands clasped around his wrists, unsure if he was trying to push him away or keep him in place. His breathing was still labored, trying to catch up with his panicked brain. 

“I’m sorry I was late, Jimin. I came as fast as possible, hoping I could intercept them before you came home. I’m so sorry you had to see this.” 

Jimin hiccupped, closing his eyes again as he willed his breathing to return to normal. “Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered, barely audible if it wasn’t for their close proximity. 

“Of course,” Jungkook whispered back, as if talking any louder would burst the bubble of intimacy that they had created for themselves. 

Footsteps stopped on Jimin’s left, a deep voice following behind. “I have disposed of the intruder, Sir. What is our next course of action?”

Jungkook looked up at the man, Jimin’s gaze following to find a kind face with dimpled cheeks looking back down on them. His gaze was almost apologetic as it regarded Jimin’s crouched position, making the smaller one wonder how someone with a kind face like that could come into a violent profession such as this. 

“Thank you, Namjoon. It would probably be best for us to head back now before we garner more unwanted attention for Jimin.” But as Jungkook made to stand, Jimin’s unexpected whimper and tug at his hands surprised everyone, most of all Jimin. 

Panic flared back up in his chest at the thought of being alone in his apartment after what just happened. He didn’t feel safe in his own home, and there was nobody he could go to for help or comfort but the same man that had saved him in the first place. 

Telling Taehyung and Yoongi would only worry them and potentially put them in danger themselves, something Jimin just couldn’t afford, same with Seokjin and Hoseok. 

With all of these complicated thoughts and feelings coursing through his brain, the words that made it out of his mouth were a soft “don’t leave me, please”, which effectively halted Jungkook, his eyes finding his with unconcealed astonishment. 

Jimin felt small under his gaze, thinking that maybe he had gone too far in his request. They were barely more than acquaintances after all. Just because Jungkook felt morally obligated to save his life after he had saved his, didn’t mean that they were close enough for Jimin to request for him to stay with him after the scary encounter. 

He dropped Jungkook’s hands gently, pushing his knees closer into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Namjoon, I trust that you can handle the syndicate while I’m gone. I believe I still have business here.” 

Jungkook’s soft but decided voice made Jimin look up from his little shame bubble, eyes wide as he watched the other man nod his head and walk out of Jimin’s apartment, door clicking shut softly behind his retreating back. 

And Jungkook was still here. Still in Jimin’s hallway, crouched next to his small form. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to stay,” Jimin mumbled, a little ashamed of his outburst. 

Jungkook sighed, sitting down criss-cross in front of Jimin. “Do you want me to leave?” 

Jimin shook his head, albeit a little hesitantly. 

“Then I will stay right here with you.” The unbothered shrug of his shoulders made his decision seem a lot more casual than it really was. Jimin appreciated the casualness. 

And Jungkook did stay. After Jimin’s afore-planned shower, he was still in the living room, lounging on Jimin’s couch, suit jacket hanging over the back of the armrest, shoes neatly lined up next to Jimin’s at the front door. 

He would have painted the perfect picture of after-work domesticity if it wasn’t for the agitated promises of violence made over the phone to whichever unfortunate soul was at the receiving end of it. 

Jimin slowly shuffled over to his armchair, curling into himself with one of the throw blankets littering his living room furniture. He felt a little self-conscious in his get-up with the other man there, wearing his favorite sweater, shorts and fuzzy socks. 

His hair softly dripped onto his hoodie as it curled against his forehead after the shower. Opening his book – which he had been looking forward to the whole day – he suddenly couldn’t concentrate on it, his whole mind concentrating on every one of Jungkook’s moves. 

“I have heard back from my men that there is some suspicious activity noticed from our adversaries so I think it would be best if I stayed with you until the situation dies down or the matter is settled,” Jungkook finally spoke, giving Jimin a reason to look up from the words on the page that he was merely pretending to read for the last few minutes. 

“Would you want that? I would tell Namjoon to drop off some spare clothing and toiletries then,” his eyes were once again boring into Jimin’s, leaving him feeling vulnerable. 

He found himself nodding before he could really think about the situation further, putting the book down on the armrest at the page he was on. “But what about my work? I can’t just hole myself up in here.” 

Jungkook hummed, giving Jimin’s inquiry some thought, which Jimin could appreciate. “You should be safe in the hospital. There are too many people going in and out, as well as a lot of security, so they most likely won’t attempt to hurt you there. They would have today if they considered that a viable option. To be safe, I will drop you off and pick you up from work everyday to intercept any attempts at that time, but otherwise you should be fine. Does that work for you?”

Jimin stared down at his feet as he took in those words, wiggling his toes in contemplation. “Okay, I think that works,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. The whole target situation still seemed incredibly intimidating but this seemed the best option for the cards he had been dealt. 

“Great. That’s settled then. Could I borrow some clothes and take a shower?” Jungkook sat up with a soft groan, cracking his back as he got up. 

The weird sense of domesticity returned in full force when Jungkook came back out of the shower, his formerly, perfectly crisp suit and gelled back hair was now replaced by comfy pajamas and wet locks dripping onto his cheeks. 

He looked a lot softer that way, and way more approachable. Jimin already felt more comfortable with him dressed this relaxed, making his own get-up less ridiculous. 

For a while they co-existed in perfect harmony – Jimin finally concentrating on his book, and Jungkook watching TV on a low volume so as to not disturb the other. When it was time to go to sleep, Jimin brought a pillow and blanket for the other man, then returned to his own bed. 

This time he didn’t lock his bedroom door. 

The next day, Jimin collapsed onto his couch the second he made it through the front door, Jungkook walking close behind with an amused chuckle. He had picked Jimin up from work just like he had said he would the night before, making Jimin feel a lot safer after yesterday’s incident. 

“Someone seems tired, although it’s barely 3pm,” he chuckled, leaning against the headrest of the couch, looking down at Jimin with a spec of mirth dancing in his dark eyes. 

Jimin grinned at him, heaving a sigh that both conveyed immense exhaustion and glee. “I know it’s not late and very unusual to be home this early even, but it seems that everybody is walking on eggshells around me now after my ‘kidnapping’.” 

Jimin threw a pointed look at Jungkook, albeit less menacing than he intended it to be. “They feel like I might be close to snapping and so they keep giving me easy and short shifts. I actually have paid leave for this weekend as well, although I was scheduled for another weekend shift.”

Jungkook crossed his arms, resting his chin on his forearms with a soft grin. “Well… I’m not quite sure if I should say ‘sorry’, or ‘you’re welcome’,” he laughed. 

Jimin shrugged. “I’m not sure either. But it seems like we’re gonna hang out a lot the next few days. Sorry about that.”

Jungkook straightened up again, shrugging his shoulders. The smile had somehow slipped off of his face again, as if he just noticed it was there and felt it was inappropriate. Jimin’s own smile fell at the revelation. 

He sat up too, watching the other man closely as he fidgeted with his phone. “Since it is still early in the day, I wanted to suggest someone to pick up this couch and bring in the new one I bought you.”

Jimin’s eyes almost fell out of his head from surprise. “You bought me a new couch?” he sputtered, standing up to properly meet the other eye to eye. 

Jungkook looked confused at his reaction, his head cocking to the side like a confused puppy’s. “I promised you I’d replace it, didn’t I?” 

“I mean, yes, but you were drugged out of your mind when you said it,” Jimin giggled nervously. 

“Maybe, but it was my fault we were in that situation in the first place.”

“Maybe so, but–”

“Jimin,” he interrupted his rant before it could even begin, halting him with the sheer gravity of his voice. “I wanted to pay you back for the furniture I ruined. Let me.”

He could keep arguing on the matter. Jimin had gone harder and stood his ground on smaller matters, but something in Jungkook’s eyes held him back from being as stubborn as he could be. It seemed like this was more important to him than it would be for Jimin to get his way. 

“Fine,” he sighed finally, giving Jungkook a small smile. 

So instead of destressing after work and taking a nap or a similar activity, Jimin was tasked to help Jungkook and Namjoon get his old couch out of his apartment so that they could bring the new one up from the garage.

Jimin was a little worried about Jungkook’s stitches, but all thoughts quickly flew out the window when he watched Jungkook lift his side of the couch with ease. The low grunt as he picked up the end of the couch replayed in his mind for a few seconds too long, cheeks heating up quickly when he made eye contact with Namjoon, who had been watching him curiously.

“Jimin, can you open the door for us, please?” Jimin was quickly shaken out of his stupor, making a dash for the door to help wherever he was allowed to — since Jungkook wouldn’t let him help carry the couch. “Three pairs of hands are one too many,” being his reasoning.

Jimin stood pressed against the hallway wall as he watched Namjoon and Jungkook start their descent down the stairs, holding his breath and crossing his fingers that no one would fall down the stairs and injure themselves. He had seen too many broken bones at work lately.

Just as the two men were about to round the first corner on their descent, the apartment door next to Jimin opened, and a disheveled-looking Taehyung slipped out to meet his best friend. “What’s going on?” he asked groggily, smoothing his hair down with his left hand.

“Getting a new couch,” Jimin just mumbled, eyes staying glued to Namjoon, who was walking backwards down the stairs, leading the pace for the other.

When they rounded the corner, the huge blood stain came into focus for the first time, Jimin’s breath hitching in his chest when he realized that Taehyung could now see it too. He quickly whipped his head around to look at his best friend, who was staring right at the stain with a stoic expression.

“I spilled coffee on it. That’s why I’m getting a new one,” Jimin quickly rushed out, trying to explain the stain away and conceal it as anything but what it, in fact, was.

Taehyung slowly nodded, his gaze finding Jimin’s with a little too much severity. “Looks like red velvet cake coffee. Didn’t know they had that flavor.” Jimin winced, looking back to the two men, who had now completely rounded the corner, putting the stain out of range for either of them.

He didn’t know what to say to make this any better, so a soft “yeah” just slipped past his lips, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

He could feel Taehyung’s appraising stare all over his body, no doubt searching for any concealed injuries that he wouldn’t be able to find since it wasn’t his own blood on the formerly white fabric.

“I’m okay, Tae. I promise it’s not what you think.” The guilt of lying made the phrase sound unbelievable even to Jimin’s own ears, but instead of arguing — which he expected Taehyung would get into right away — the other man mutely nodded again, slipping back into his own apartment.

“You know where to find me if you wanna hang out,” he mumbled, severe and worried gaze finding Jimin’s own once more before the door clicked shut behind him.

Jimin heaved a sigh when he was gone, head dropping into his hands. There was a headache forming behind his temples, so Jimin went back inside as well, searching his medicine cabinet for some relief. 

A while later, Jungkook and Namjoon came back with the new – identical – couch, exertion clear on their bodies by their flushed skin and damp hair. They placed it down in the same spot that the old one was sitting, slumping against the armrests with loud groans. 

Jimin grimaced in sympathy at them, hovering around nervously. “Let me get you something to drink,” he mumbled, quickly rushing to the kitchen to procure two beers from the fridge, as is customary for any moving-in-help. This wasn’t the exact same situation, but Jimin deemed carrying two couches up or down seven flights of stairs enough to get offered a beer. 

“Thank you, Jimin,” Jungkook croaked out gratefully as Jimin handed him the cold bottle. He completely ignored the bottle opener that the blonde held out to him and popped the bottle cap open with the ring on his right index finger, a move that Jimin deemed both highly impressive and extremely prone to accidental skin abrasions. 

“Should I order some pizzas? Are you hungry?” he asked next, noticing how Namjoon plopped onto the couch, rubbing at his right shoulder with a slight grimace. 

“Sure, but while you do that I’m gonna go take a shower and change out of yesterday’s clothes,” Jungkook mused, slapping his knee as he stood up. Only then did Jimin notice the big backpack leaned against the couch, which no doubt encompassed the clothing and toiletries that Jungkook wanted to bring around. 

Jimin watched him go until he disappeared behind the bathroom door, the shower turning on a few moments later. He turned back to the other man on his couch, once again making note of his discomfort. 

“Is your shoulder okay?” he asked softly, getting the other man’s attention. 

“Oh, yeah. I just bumped into the railing real good on our way up,” Namjoon answered with an awkward grimace. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just gonna bruise, but I’m fine.” 

Jimin nodded, debating for another second if he should insist on having a look at it, but ultimately he suspected that injuries weren’t a new occurrence in his life, so he trusted him to know if he needed his shoulder to be looked at. 

“If you insist,” Jimin conceded, taking out his phone to dial up his local pizza place. 

By the time Jungkook came out of the shower, hair dripping everywhere and steam wafting from the bathroom into the hallway, the pizza had already arrived, cartons opened on Jimin’s coffee table. 

“I took that long in the shower?” Jungkook sounded perplexed as he sat down next to Jimin and Namjoon, grabbing a hefty slice of cheese pizza. 

“You always do,” Namjoon answered casually. Jimin was oddly endeared by it. 

They fell into a comfortable routine after that day. Jungkook still slept on the couch, but without the blood stains and the heap of blankets and pillows to conceal them, it was now a lot more comfortable. They got up together in the morning, brushed their teeth side by side, and then drove to work together. 

Jungkook would  let Jimin out in front of the hospital with a grin and a “have a nice day at work, see you later”, and pick him up after a grueling day with “how was your day?”. 

Jimin never asked Jungkook how his own workday was and Jungkook never told. It was an unspoken agreement between them, that they both held to the utmost significance.  

Jimin did notice however, that sometimes Jungkook would pick him up in a different suit than the one he left the house with. He didn’t comment on that either. 

But despite all the shady happenings, Jimin did kind of enjoy coming home to someone in the evenings. He used to loathe having to cook after an already grueling day – and more often than he should admit, he would skip the task altogether. 

But now, with a second person sharing his space, Jimin didn’t mind dragging his tired feet into the kitchen to make food as long as there was a second person at the dinner table. It made the apartment feel less lonely. 

But this particular evening, after an especially long shift and a lot more running around like a headless chicken, Jimin was more like a zombie walking around after Jungkook picked him up. 

He clumsily peeled his shoes off his feet with the other one, kicking them into a corner of the hallway afterwards. His brain felt like it was tightly packed in cotton, so he didn’t notice Jungkook follow behind him with a worried frown, tidying up Jimin’s shoes after him. 

The nurse walked to the fridge on autopilot, opening the doors to stare at the contents of the fridge, not registering any of the ingredients he found inside. He yawned. 

Suddenly a pair of hands reached out from behind him, gently peeling Jimin’s fingers from the refrigerator door. “Let me,” he hummed softly, and Jimin had no energy to resist. He let himself be guided to the couch – which Jungkook cleaned his sleep pillow and blankets of every morning in order to not hog the space completely – and watched with heavy lids as the enigmatic man in his kitchen started pulling out ingredients. 

Jungkook started humming a tune that Jimin vaguely recognized but couldn’t work out with his sleepy brain, pushed up his sleeves and started cooking. A small smile stole itself on Jimin’s face as he watched the man cook what smelled like omelets quite skilfully actually. 

His eyes started drooping more and more, eyeballs actually burning with fatigue the longer Jimin fought for them to stay open. He just noticed the man turn around with a soft smile to look back at him, when his eyelids finally won the battle.  

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darling,” was the last thing he heard, spoken fondly by a deep voice – or maybe he just imagined it – and then he succumbed completely to the sweet warm embrace of sleep. 

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to a gentle hand carding through his blonde hair, accompanied by a chuckle when Jimin let out a tired grumble and attempted to half-heartedly swat the hand away. 

“Food is ready, join me at the table when you stop drooling on yourself,” Jungkook grinned, then left to the dinner table, where he had already set the plates. 

Jimin’s stomach started growling the second his nose sniffed out the delicious scent of what he guessed was a delicious omelet with all the leftover ingredients lying around the fridge, since they didn’t have time to go grocery shopping yet. 

From the first – admittedly cautious bite taken – Jimin could tell that he had severely underestimated the other’s cooking skills. The eggs were perfectly fluffy and tastefully seasoned, the leftover spinach, baby tomatoes and cheese perfectly accentuating the flavor profile. Paired with the plain toast with butter, it was a perfectly delicious, not too heavy dinner that Jimin could appreciate. 

His eyes widened in surprise at the deliciousness, making his face look so comical that Jungkook actually cracked a smile at his expression. 

“You didn’t tell me you could cook! Why have I been making all the meals all this time!” Jimin complained in astonishment, though his face betrayed his amusement. 

Jungkook chuckled into his glass of water, eyes dancing with something close to mirth as he looked at Jimin. “I thought you liked cooking so I didn’t want to intrude into your space.”

“I am notorious for neglecting dinner time because I am too tired to cook,” Jimin chuckled, making a conscious effort not to scarf down his food too fast and sloppily. 

“Then I can cook more often, if you want. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to do it all the time, if you don’t enjoy doing that.”

Jimin smiled, very appreciative of the offer. Jungkook kept surprising him with his gentle nature and helpful demeanor. The picture he had of him upon their first meeting became more and more removed from the image that he continued to paint himself now. 

“She’s flatlining! We need help here!” 

Jimin’s feet stopped dead in his tracks, head whipping around to find a flurry of doctors filter into the room he had just exited a little while ago. 

Through the bustle he could make out the small body of Haseul – the five year old girl he had just spent his lunch break playing uno with – as an oxygen mask was pulled over her scrawny face. 

“No,” he gasped out as his feet finally unfroze from the ground, pushing through the nurses in his way to get to the little girl. “You were supposed to be discharged in two days, you were on the mend!” 

Jimin didn’t know if he was screaming the words in his head, or out loud, but seeing the small girl so lifeless on the too-big hospital bed, broke his heart in more ways than one. 

It was only yesterday that she could keep food down again. The little girl enthusiastically enjoyed her favorite dessert just half an hour ago with Jimin in this very room. Her face had been sunken in from malnourishment, but her smile had been big and toothy, brimming with so much life and joy. 

“You can’t die on me. You were supposed to go home soon, “ Jimin clenched his teeth with determination, starting CPR on the small ribcage underneath his hands. 

There was a rushed flutter all around Jimin, but he stayed determined, keeping track of his chest compressions through song. Not that he got much enjoyment or even comfort from the tune playing in his own head. 

Someone somewhere around him was charging up the defibrillator, Jimin stepping away just long enough for another nurse to clear her chest. 

“Clear!” Jimin moved back as the defibrillators made contact with the small chest, Haseul’s whole body jolting with the voltage, but otherwise remaining just as lifeless as before.

The second jolt of electricity did not manage to revive her either, but Jimin was not ready to give her up. Even through the sudden loud crack under his hands he did not stop. 

He had no idea how long he stayed focused on the chest compressions, the only constant being the terrifying beep of the flatline monitor and the yelling of the other hospital staff all around him. 

They turned quieter eventually. 

Suddenly, a hand fell on his shoulder, making Jimin startle so badly that he lost track of his compressions. 

Seokjin’s apologetic face came into focus when he turned his head to see the interruption, and Jimin instantly knew what this meant. 

“No, no no I can get her back,” his voice sounded desperate and weak even to his own ears, a mixture of a whimper and a sob breaking through his constricted throat when Seokjin shook his head. 

“She’s gone, Jimin. I’m so sorry, you did everything you could.” 

“Time of death, 14:36,” a disconnected voice called out just as Seokjin pulled Jimin’s hands away. They were shaking badly. 

Jimin had never lost a patient before in his 3 years of working in the medical field. Though he was aware of the possibility at all times, he never expected it would hit so suddenly… So young…

“She was getting better, hyung,” his voice sounded broken even to his own ears. 

“I know, buddy,” Seokjin sighed, enveloping Jimin into a hug that had the power to both tear him apart and put him back together. “This shouldn’t have happened, but there was nothing that you could have done to fix this.”

Not a single tear fell from Jimin’s eyes the whole rest of his shift, just going through the motions. Haseul’s small body jolting under the defibrillator kept replaying in his mind, the record occasionally broken by their last happy moments playing uno together. 

He had promised her to play again soon… 

By the time Jimin got into Jungkook’s car, he was a husk of his normal self, and Jungkook noticed instantly. 

Jimin could feel his concerned stare bore into his cheek every time he could afford to look away from the road, but couldn’t bring himself to look back at him or tell him what had happened. 

Back in the apartment, Jimin made straight for his bedroom, not even thinking about closing the door behind him when he started frantically pulling at his clothes, trying to get out of them and into his comfort pajamas. 

The need for a shower also sat in the back of his mind, but Jimin could not focus on keeping himself together for that long, so instead he crawled into bed, the blankets pulled up to his nose. 

He wasn’t alone for long though, as socked feet soon came into view in the doorway, a heavy sigh accentuating Jungkook’s presence. 

Jimin watched him walk closer to the bed – the first time he had ever been inside Jimin’s bedroom since they first met over two months ago. Jungkook crouched down by Jimin’s head, his worried and all too tender face coming into focus. 

Jimin’s eyes burned from not blinking to keep his tears at bay, and his throat kept constricting painfully from the sobs simmering under the surface, deep in his chest. 

Another sigh left the dark-haired man as he took in the entirety of Jimin’s distress. Without a word, Jungkook sat on the floor by Jimin’s bed, a hand reaching out to tenderly card itself through Jimin’s hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp gently, sending a pleasant shiver through Jimin’s body. 

“What happened, honey boy?” 

And with those soft words, spoken so affectionately, the dam inside Jimin, which he had tried so hard to contain, splintered with unmatched force, and sobs so guttural they hurt his throat, spilled from his lips. 

The loss and inadequacy he felt were amplified by the fact that it was his first time losing a patient – and with no chance to prepare for the possibility – but Jimin doubted this pain would get easier with time and exposure. 

Jimin cried almost as hard as on that one fateful day. The sobs wrecked his throat and his lungs screamed in protest, not getting enough oxygen through all his hyperventilating. 

Jungkook stayed with him through all the blowup, carding his fingers through Jimin’s hair like a lover would and wiping his tears with his thumbs although they were replaced too quickly for it to even matter. 

It took Jimin a while to calm down enough to stop his wailing, and even longer until he  eventually was reduced to just wet hiccups as his breathing forced itself to regulate again. 

“I lost Haseul. She suddenly flatlined and I couldn’t bring her back.” Admitting it aloud hurt Jimin even more than his wrecked throat did, as it protested against every sound leaving him. 

Jungkook didn’t try to console Jimin with words at the revelation, which Jimin appreciated. There was nothing he could have said that would make Jimin feel better right now. 

Instead, he sighed again, resuming the gentle caresses on Jimin’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a while, and those simple words were enough for Jimin right now. He didn’t need to have his feelings validated by someone else – he knew that they were – it was just nice to have them acknowledged. 

After a while, Jimin began to drift off to sleep from the sheer exhaustion of the day and his emotional outburst. He was treading the very edges of sleep, when Jungkook stopped his ministrations, his hand retreating as if he was about to leave. 

Without even thinking, Jimin’s hand shot out from under the blanket, where it had rested balled under his chin. He caught Jungkook’s wrist just before it could slip from reach, effectively halting the other man in his steps. 

Jimin could see him look down at him in surprise from between his almost closed eyelids. “Please stay,” he whispered, grip tightening in fear of rejection, but he didn’t need to be worried. 

A tender smile had made itself onto Jungkook’s face before Jimin had even finished his plea, his fingers gently peeling Jimin’s hand from his wrist. “Okay, let me just change into appropriate bedwear,” he conceded instantly. 

Satisfied with that answer, Jimin’s hand retreated back under the warm covers, waiting for the other with heavy eyelids. 

A few minutes later, Jimin could hear footsteps approaching the bed again. When the bed dipped behind him, he finally succumbed to sleep. 

Even after the initial shock of Haseul’s death wore off, Jimin remained a husk of his former self. He didn’t eat unless he was forced to by both Seokjin and Hoseok at work, as well as Jungkook at home. He rarely laughed, and even actively avoided contact with his friends. 

Taehyung had tried countless times to reach out and get Jimin out of his apartment but Jimin would ignore his messages. He even started keeping his own key inside his lock so he couldn’t attempt to get into Jimin’s apartment and forcefully pull him out of his depression den. 

All Jimin did was work himself to the bone and then go straight to sleep if Jungkook allowed him to. 

But even though Jimin had made it a habit to reject all social interactions and actively avoid all humans, at night he still asked for Jungkook. He was afraid of the total silence which would leave him alone with his thoughts. 

So Jungkook slept next to him, never touching more than a simple lock of pinky fingers, but it calmed Jimin to hear his breathing. 

And Jungkook seemed fine with it for the most part, until he suddenly wasn’t anymore. 

One day, after picking Jimin up from the hospital, he slammed the front door a little too hard, betraying his frustration before he could even move his mouth and voice them. 

“This ends now. I can’t keep watching you waste away because of this.” His voice was harsher than Jimin had ever heard it, making him flinch slightly as he turned around to face the other man. 

He stayed mute as he watched Jungkook cross the living room, hands tugging at his work tie harshly until it hung loosely around his neck, jacket shrugged off and thrown over the armrest of Jimin’s favorite chair. 

“I get that you have experienced a loss and that mourning is normal and all, but I believe I have let you wallow long enough now.” Jimin flinched at the words, hands balling up in the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt – a nervous habit of his. 

“You’re completely shutting out the world! You’re working yourself to exhaustion and avoiding everyone who cares about you. This isn’t healthy! This isn’t healing!” Jungkook was now rounding the couch, advancing on Jimin. 

Jimin was exhausted. He had been on his feet all day, running around the hospital without a single break – not even taking lunch in order to avoid Seokjin and Hoseok. But most importantly, he didn’t want to deal with Jungkook’s outburst right now. 

As he made to walk to his bedroom – completely intent on shutting the door and turning the key, which he hadn’t done since the very first night that Jungkook had crashed in his apartment – Jungkook stepped in the way, successfully cutting off Jimin’s attempt to escape. 

“No, not this time, Jimin,” Jungkook laughed humorlessly as he stepped in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest. His voice was almost mean as he looked down on Jimin, but the worry was etched into his face, plain as day. 

“You need to start living again and stop shutting everybody out. All you do is work to escape your thoughts and I’m done watching.” 

Jimin’s face hardened with every new word spilling from his mouth. He hadn’t felt much apart from numbness and exhaustion lately, but suddenly the hot flames of anger flared in his chest, his formerly expressionless face morphing into one of anger. 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he ground out suddenly, catching Jungkook by surprise. The other raised one eyebrow as he looked down at Jimin, looking broad and intimidating with his crossed arms. But Jimin wasn’t cowering in front of his authority. 

“Excuse me?” Jungkook chuckled, but Jimin was having none of it. It oddly felt good to feel something, even if that feeling was anger. 

“Yes! Excuse you! How dare you criticize my way of coping when you have been doing the exact same ever since I met you?” Jimin jabbed his pointer fingers into Jungkook’s sternum as he started unleashing all of his frustrations on the other. 

“You’re a goddamn hypocrite!” 

“A hypocrite?” Jungkook laughed humorlessly, starting to follow behind Jimin again as he started stomping away. 

“Yes!” Jimin slammed the kitchen cupboard after pulling out a glass, filling it with water from the sink a little too aggressively. He almost choked on his gulps from the way he tried to convey his sour attitude in the simple action. Jungkook didn’t look impressed. 

“You still , after weeks-!” Jimin slammed the glass on the counter, water sloshing over the rim and spreading over the white countertop. 

“- keep drowning yourself in your work. You don’t talk to me about what happened and I highly doubt you have talked to Namjoon about it either. I can tell you’re holding yourself back from smiling, you know?“Weeks! If not months of this already. You can grieve but I can’t?” 

Jungkook froze in the middle of his retort, eyes suddenly staring blankly. 

The sudden shift from impassioned and worried to completely nothing scared Jimin. 

“She was my sister, Jimin. They dumped her in front of my door after two weeks of her being missing. She died on the stairs while I was away searching for her.”

Jimin’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes filling with tears at the gruesome thought. 

“And yes, maybe I am coping in an unhealthy way. I know that. But I have failed Jihyo. I should have been there to get her to a hospital before she could bleed out on my steps. But I wasn’t there.”

Jungkook was advancing again, cornering Jimin against the kitchen counter with slow and deliberate steps. Jimin couldn’t move, just watch him come closer. 

“But you were there for that little girl and you did everything you could. Your guilt is misplaced, Jimin. It was out of your hands. My sister died because of me.”

Jimin shook his head adamantly, as Jungkook stepped ever closer. 

“It hurts me to see you in so much pain and it hurts even more to just sit here and be unable to help you,” Jungkook whispered the last part, they were almost flush together now. 

Jimin’s hip pressed into the sharp edges of the counter, completely caged between Jungkook’s arms. 

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, eyes tracking Jungkook’s ever-advancing face. 

Jungkook pressed his forehead to Jimin’s then, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, as if tasting Jimin in the air. Their lips were centimeters apart. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin’s voice was barely there, completely overwhelmed with the proximity. HIs breath shuddered out of his lips. Jungkook had closed his eyes, simply breathing the blonde in as well. 

His hand raised then, slowly trailing up Jimin’s arm – leaving goosebumps in his wake – until it found purchase on Jimin’s jaw, cradling his face delicately. Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch. He could feel Jungkook breathe shakily on his lips.

“I care about you. More than I should probably. I want to see you smile again more than anything. I would kill to hear your laugh again if I thought that is what it would take to hear the sound fall from your lips.”

Jimin’s mind was reeling, heart beating out of his ribcage. The mixture of emotions almost made him feel nauseous, but he didn’t pull away. He liked the feeling after the vast emptiness that sat in his chest before. 

He couldn’t deny that his heart had desired for such words to leave Jungkook’s mouth before. His heart had been fluttering for a while, if he let himself acknowledge such attraction earlier. It was terrifying. It was nuts to fall for someone with such a violent profession – and Jimin could not deny that there was the occasional shame associated with the comfort he felt around the man – but it was undeniable. 

“I will try for you, if that is what it takes for you to start living again too,” Jimin finally answered, gathering the courage to bridge the almost nonexistent gap between their lips and finally slot them together. 

Jungkook’s lips were warm and fit with Jimin’s so seamlessly, as if they were meant to be touching. He kissed like he was a drowning man and Jimin his first breath of oxygen after fighting back to the water’s surface. 

Everything about Jungkook was intense, and his kissing was no different. Jimin gasped into the kiss, arms snaking around Jungkook’s back to card through his gelled hair, pulling it free from its perfect styling and making them fall into Jungkook’s face. The strands tickled Jimin’s face, making him smile into the kiss. 

When they finally pulled apart, both their chests were heaving and eyes sparkling. Jungkook was the first to break the silence, chuckling tenderly as he took in Jimin’s red cheeks.

“I like this look so much more on you,” he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to Jimin’s forehead before he pulled away, giving Jimin room to step away from the kitchen counter. 

Jimin immediately sought out their closeness again, taking Jungkook’s hand in his. He didn’t want Jungkook to put space between them, especially no physical one at the moment. 

“I’m tired,” he mumbled, hoping that Jungkook could sense the underlying plea for closeness in his words. 

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” the other smiled, gently corralling Jimin into the bedroom. 

After changing into more comfortable clothes, Jimin crowded into Jungkook’s space on the bed, resting his head on the other’s chest. 

It was pitch-dark in the room since the blinds were still drawn from last night, and in the cocoon of darkness, he was emboldened by the fingers playing with his hair. “Tell me about your sister,” he spoke into the darkness, the ribcage under him rising and lowering in a deep sigh. 

“Jihyo was always supposed to take over the syndicate once our father died. She was the eldest child in our family and gifted in the family business. Nothing and no one could intimidate her, and no one could outshoot her,” Jungkook chuckled softly as he spoke the last sentence. 

Jimin could sense the love and heartbreak in every word released into the darkness around them. 

“Jiyho was fierce and insanely smart, always the one to come up with the best strategies. She lived and breathed for her work in a way I could never aspire to. She was the perfect heir to our family business.She was snarky and made enemies just as easily as she made friends. Family was above everything for her. She was loyal to a fault.” Jimin could feel Jungkook’s grief rattle through his lungs and it hurt him to witness his grief. 

“She always told me that I should follow my dreams. That, as the oldest sister, she felt honored to take those burdens so I could have the future I wanted. Our father got shot in Jiyho’s pursuit when she was taken from her apartment by the Choi’s, and I – scared shitless – needed my sister to make the world make sense again. But I didn’t get to her in time.” Jungkook was trembling under Jimin’s body, but when Jimin sat up to search his face, there were no tears. 

“She was beautiful, Jimin. Maybe not a good person to the rest of the world, but in my eyes, the best sister I could have asked for in my circumstances and it kills me to think how scared she must have been as she lay dying on my doorstep.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” Jimin choked out the words, his shaking hands caressing the other’s face to try to soothe Jungkook the same way he had when Jimin first came home after the incident. 

“I understand your pain,” he whispered. “I too lost a sister – younger sister actually – in a hit and run.” It was hard to talk about Jinah, but Jimin felt like maybe sharing his own story could help Jungkook in his own grief. 

“Jinah was thirteen and only three years younger than me. I had promised for her birthday that I would take her to her favorite book store and buy her a novel of her choosing. We were supposed to meet there after school,” the longer he talked, the more difficult it was for Jimin to get the words out – to relive that day. 

“She was doing everything right. She was waiting on the sidewalk until the traffic light for the crosswalk turned to green. I was waiting on the other side for her, returning her wave excitedly when she noticed me.”

Jimin could feel Jungkook’s stare on the side of his face, but couldn’t bear to turn his head, instead staring into a corner of his bedroom. 

“She was about halfway over the street when a car hit her at full force, sending her flying into the windshield and then toppling over the roof of the car and back into the road. The driver didn’t even slow down after hitting her. They left as quickly as they came, and my sister lay sprawled on the street, dead upon impact. They found the driver only fifteen minutes later, hood bent around a traffic light. Her blood was still sticking to the windshield. I swore to myself that day that I would go to medical school to prevent another person from ever having to experience the grief that I felt that day.”

Jimin exhaled shakily, forcing himself to shrug as he looked back at Jungkook, who looked so heartbroken for Jimin that he almost wished he hadn’t burdened Jungkook with it at all. But shared grief was supposed to be easier to bear. 

“So I think that might be why Haseul’s death affected me so badly.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Jimin,” Jungkook pulled Jimin back to his chest, pulling him impossibly close as he kissed the crown of his head. 

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back. 

Jimin felt a little lighter after the confession and after a while, both of them succumbed to sleep, holding each other tightly. 

One can imagine the pure relief that Seokjin and Hoseok felt the day Jimin joined them at their usual lunch table, his favorite sandwich on his tray and a hefty helping of fruit salad on the side. 

Hoseok almost looked like he was about to cry as he made space for Jimin at the table. 

“Hi,” Jimin smiled nervously, knowing himself how long he had been avoiding his friends and how worried they had been for his mental wellbeing. 

“Hi. It’s good to see you,” Seokjin was a little more composed than Hoseok, but still visibly touched by his sudden reappearance. 

“It’s good to be back,” Jimin replied, and he truly meant it. Of course he still had his moments in which he became overwhelmed with emotions, but he could brave through them a lot better now. 

At home, so much has changed ever since their blow-up in the kitchen. Apart from the unabashed displays of tenderness that Jungkook especially seemed fond of, they both had taken their conversation seriously and made efforts to work through their traumas and heal. 

Jungkook had stopped bringing his work home – as much as it allowed him to anyway – and he had started to spend that time going after his own interests, like listening to audiobooks and cooking. He was smiling more, which always sent a full-body shiver of happiness down Jimin’s spine when he saw it. 

Something that Jimin found out in their newfound bubble was that Jungkook seemed to be the absolute cutest romance movie fanatic. Jimin did like them too, but he was in no way as immersed in the sometimes over-the-top love stories the way Jungkook was. 

Tucked into Jungkook’s chest on this Friday evening, he couldn’t concentrate on the characters fighting on the screen. Jungkook was big on skinship, always having his hands touch any part of Jimin’s body – and normally Jimin loved that too – but today the hand in question was sitting high on Jimin’s thigh, drawing agonizingly slow circles into the meaty part of his inner thigh. 

A blush crept high on Jimin’s cheeks as he felt the telltale signs of arousal sweep through his body. 

They had never gone further than kissing before and although Jimin usually appreciated how patient the other was and how he didn’t demand intimacy, now Jungkook’s skinship was just a bit infuriating. 

Jimin soldiered through another fifteen minutes of the rom-com he wasn’t even processing, but when the couple on screen finally fell into bed together – pure passion depicted on their faces – and Jungkook decided that exact moment was the time to press an innocent peck behind Jimin’s ear, he had enough. 

With a – maybe a bit too loud – groan, Jimin sat up to fetch the remote from the coffee table and turn off the TV. He then turned around to glare at the offending party behind him, earning a tiny grunt of confusion from Jungkook who had now ceased his slow circles on Jimin’s inner thigh. 

“What?” he asked softly when Jimin didn’t speak for several seconds, his cheeks darkening even further when his actions sunk in. He didn’t know what to say now. 

“You’ve been touching me,” is what he ends up coming up with when their silence stretched on a little too long for Jimin’s comfort. It wasn’t really the most enlightening thing he could have said at that moment. 

“I have,” Jungkook answered after a deliberate pause, the confusion with Jimin’s words clear on his face. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Jimin paused. “Actually yes, it is a problem.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, a small smile tugging at his lips but he suppressed it. “Care to enlighten me how they are a problem and also not a problem at the same time?”

Jimin bit his lip, glaring at the man cozied up to him when he noticed Jungkook’s amusement with the situation. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled. 

“Of course not, love.” 

“You’ve just been touching me but not touching me.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“I want you to touch me, Jungkook.”

“Oh .”

Jimin threw his hands up in frustration when he still got nothing but that one syllable answer, but before he could voice his opinion about it in a more bratty way, those same arms had been gripped by stronger ones. 

In the blink of an eye, Jimin had been maneuvered onto his back, hands pinned to the couch cushions above his head. Jungkook smirked down at him from above, fitted snugly between Jimin’s thighs as one hand effortlessly held him up and the other still gripped both of Jimin’s wrists. 

“You know,” he started, his voice suddenly infinitely deeper and sexier than it was just a moment ago, “you could’ve just asked me to fuck you and I would have loved to comply.”

“You’re a menace,” Jimin glared up at Jungkook, face furiously red with embarrassment and desire. He didn’t know if Jungkook could read his mind or if he was just that perfect to embody all of Jimin’s turn-ons. 

“And yet here you are begging me to touch you.”

Jimin already had another bratty retort on his lips, but what came out of his mouth instead was one, embarrassingly drawn out moan as Jungkook pushed down his hips, giving sudden attention to Jimin’s already plumpening cock. 

Nothing turned him on more than when his partner was just the slightest bit mean to him when they were intimate, so Jungkook had pushed all the correct buttons without even having touched him yet. 

“So cute,” Jungkook chuckled into Jimin’s ear at the sound, starting to move against him in earnest, all the while kissing up his neck. 

Jimin still couldn’t touch him, so he tried to no avail to move his arms, but Jungkook held firm, sucking at the skin behind his ears, then blowing on the wet spot, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine. 

“Be patient, baby,” he chastised with his sultry voice, Jimin almost wanting to obey him to hear him call him “baby” one more time. But instead, he bucked up his hips, trying to get the upper hand and flip them over, but before he could even blink, Jungkook had released his wrists and the hand was now at his throat, not squeezing but holding him in place. 

Jimin froze, eyes wide and pupils blown with arousal. Jungkook had let up his attention at his neck, now moving to Jimin’s lips, hovering over them with a hair’s breadth separating them. Jimin could almost taste him. 

“Behave, or I’ll make you behave.”

There were a million thoughts rushing around in Jimin’s head, all of them screaming a mixture of “yes”, “fuck”, and “more”. But they hadn’t really talked about what kind of stuff they liked or were okay with in the bedroom yet, so although he knew he looked more than into it at this point, he could still see the small question mark in Jungkook’s eyes, knowing he was holding back to make sure Jimin was okay with it. 

So Jimin moved one of his newly freed arms to move to his neck as well, cupping Jungkook’s bigger hands with his and squeezing them around his neck, showing he was more than okay with what was happening at the moment. 

“Don’t be a coward. Make me behave.”

Jungkook didn’t have to be told twice, diving into Jimin’s lips with the fervor of a feral beast tasting first blood. 

Every sound Jimin made was silenced by his mouth, lips plumping and tingling from teeth nipping and biting. He was the perfect juxtaposition of gentle and rough, and although Jimin normally enjoyed the fight for dominance and the upper hand with his partner, Jungkook drew an unexpected submissiveness out of the blonde. 

Jungkook worshiped every inch of revealed skin as he slowly undressed Jimin, placing kisses and caresses to all nooks and crannies of Jimin’s alabaster skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

He paid special attention to Jimin’s small pink nipples. Teasing them with his fingers until they perked up in interest, then abusing them with his mouth and teeth until they were puffy and tender once Jimin’s moans grew louder and betrayed how sensitive he was. 

By the time he moved on and Jimin could think again beyond pleasure, he noticed that he was almost completely naked, which contrasted with Jungkook still being fully clothed. It shouldn’t be this erotic to be the only one on display while his partner was still clothed and in control, but Jimin’s cock jumped in interest nevertheless, neglected and aching in his boxers at this point. 

“Can we get to the bedroom now, please?” Jimin whined pitifully once Jungkook sat back on his haunches, peering down on Jimin’s marked up skin with a dazzling look akin to pride.

 “The couch not good enough for the little prince?” Jungkook teased with a mean chuckle, but picked Jimin up effortlessly anyway. 

There was no hint of exertion at all on the other’s face as he lifted Jimin’s body in his arms to start their short trip to the bed. Jimin not only thought that to be highly impressive but also insanely sexy. 

He was tossed on the bed unceremoniously, yelping as he made contact with the mattress, bouncing up twice until he came to rest in the middle of the bed. 

“How gentlemanly,” he grumbled drily, watching Jungkook get on the bed as well, crawling up Jimin’s bed like a panther about to pounce. Something about the scene and the glint in his eyes was so primal, it shot a thrill of adrenaline up Jimin’s spine. 

It almost felt like he should start running to make Jungkook chase him. The spike of fear as he ran sounded way too delicious in his mind right at that moment.  

Jimin filed that fantasy in his brain for later – not that he had time to voice it now anyway, since Jungkook had caught up to him by now, flipping Jimin on his stomach with one arm. 

Jimin looked back at him with lidded eyes, watching Jungkook finally slip out of his clothes, revealing the beautiful muscles that Jimin felt under his hands every time they touched, and the beautiful tattoos which snaked down his body. 

Jimin wanted to trail all of them with his tongue, but this too had to wait for another day, because Jungkook clearly had other plans with him tonight. And Jimin was not about to interrupt those plans. 

“Ass up, pretty,” Jungkook commanded once he was in a similar state of undress as Jimin – naked except for his boxers. Jimin could see an impressively big bulge through the fabric, making his mouth water. 

It had been so long since he had been fucked dumb by anyone, and now that he had seen a glimpse of his immediate future, he was not thrilled about drawing this out any longer. “No more teasing. I want you to fuck me now,” he whined, but followed Jungkook’s orders, keeping his torso lowered to the pillows and arching his back prettily for the other. 

“Are you really that greedy for my cock? Can’t even wait until I’m done worshiping your body?” Jungkook started palming himself over his boxers at his words, Jimin’s eyes zeroing in on the bulge so much he feared he was going cross-eyed. 

He nodded before he could really process the second sentence, just wanting to finally feel Jungkook inside him. 

Jungkook sighed at the action as if he was disappointed, but Jimin could see the small smile play at his lips, betraying his mocking words. 

They had enough time to play around after Jimin had satisfied his curiosity about his dick. 

Without even waiting for Jungkook to give his okay to his plans, Jimin reached into his nightstand and retrieved his favorite lube and a condom, placing it down next to Jungkook with expectant eyes. 

“Impatient brat,” Jungkook grumbled, but finally pulled down Jimin’s boxers, revealing the juicy flesh of his ass cheeks to his eyes. “Fuck, you’re just gonna suck me right in, aren’t you?” he chuckled, smoothing his hands over the globes with reverence. 

Jimin grinned proudly, wiggling his ass coquettishly. Jungkook slapped his right cheek in warning. 

“Better stop that until I dive in there, until I die.”

Jimin moaned at the sting, head falling into the pillow as he heard the lube bottle open. He jumped when the cold liquid made direct contact with his rim, realizing Jungkook had poured it straight over his ass instead of warming it up with his fingers. 

He could feel it sliding down his thighs and drip to the bed, making a huge mess on the sheets. Jimin couldn’t find it in himself to care too much. 

Another slap resounded through the moderate silence – only broken up by Jimin’s pants and soft mewls. Jungkook rubbed out the sting of the spank, hand trailing between his legs to collect some lubricant in his hand. Jimin moved into the touch, searching for more pleasure from him. 

And for a few moments he got it, Jungkook slowly jerking Jimin’s weeping cock which hung red and angry between his legs, thumb digging into the slit and milking it until Jimin’s legs almost gave out under him from the overwhelming pleasure the touch brought. 

“Aren’t you just sensitive,” Jungkook outright laughed when he noticed the twitching, letting go of Jimin’s cock to move onto his rim to finally prepare him for what was to come. 

He circled and prodded a while around his rim until he finally slid one finger into Jimin, moving slowly to stretch him enough to add more fingers. 

Jimin started fisting the bedsheets hard between his hands when Jungkook began to kiss down his back as he added another finger, slowly fucking in and out. 

At three fingers, Jungkook had fully started kissing and sucking at Jimin’s ass cheeks, clearly very infatuated by it. Jimin knew the impact his ass had on people, but it still felt good to be reminded of it sometimes. 

Jungkook’s fingers were longer than Jimin’s, so he reached places inside him that had not been touched in a long time, making his eyes roll into the back of his head. His moans spilled from his lips without abandon as soon as he found the little bundle of nerves inside him that made the blonde see stars, and then abused it until Jimin was shaking once more. 

“Please, please, please fuck me,” Jimin keened, reaching behind him to try to pull Jungkook’s hand to get him to move on. 

“Brat,” Jungkook growled into his skin but conceded, but not without one punishing bite to his ass that made Jimin yelp loudly from the mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“You’re the brat,” he groaned, but Jungkook already ignored him, taking off his boxers to roll on the condom. Jimin almost salivated at the sight of his cock. He was the perfect size, straight out of Jimin’s dirtiest wet dreams. 

That shut him up quick enough. 

Jungkook watched him present himself for a few moments, slowly jerking himself in his hand before lining the tip up at Jimin’s rim. The blonde tried to rock back into his length, and Jungkook surprisingly let him, watching as Jimin slowly speared himself open on his dick. 

Once he was fitted snugly inside, Jimin let out a loud moan, and Jungkook took over as soon as he felt him relax enough. 

Jungkook set a fast and brutal pace right from the beginning as he sensed that was what Jimin wanted most in that moment. 

Jimin was seeing stars as he was continuously rocked into the headboard to the point he had to cushion it with his pillow so he wouldn’t hurt the crown of his head by banging it on the wood. 

Once Jungkook found that tiny bundle of nerves again, he doubled down on it, precisely hitting it with every thrust until Jimin’s brain completely shut down everything except the delicious pleasure coursing through his body. 

He almost screamed out his moans until Jungkook stuffed his fingers into his mouth to silence him. He was completely draped over Jimin’s back now, close enough that Jimin could feel his breath on the nape of his neck. 

“You’re gonna wake up your neighbors,” he groaned into his skin. 

Jimin sucked on the fingers in his mouth, spit dripping down his chin. One of his hands started their trail down his body until he could form a fist around his neglected cock, pumping himself in time with Jungkook’s thrusts. 

It didn’t take long after that for Jimin to near his orgasm, the precipice inching closer with every pant and groan muffled into Jimin’s neck. They both were a sticky mess of sweat and lube at this point, but neither cared. 

“I-I’m close,” Jimin whined around the fingers stuffing his mouth, but somehow Jungkook understood. 

“Come for me, pretty,” he groaned into Jimin’s ear and that simple order made stars explode behind his eyelids. 

Jungkook’s fingers almost weren’t enough to silence his moans as his orgasm rushed through his body, cum decorating his abdomen and the already ruined sheets underneath him. His legs gave out halfway through his prolonged orgasm as Jungkook still chased his own high, the sticky fabric underneath him almost too much on his sensitive cock. 

He didn’t stay down long, however, as Jungkook pulled him up like a ragdoll when he sat on his haunches, Jimin’s back pressed flush to Jungkook’s sculpted chest, one strong arm holding him in place against him. 

“Fuuuck,” he whined, not sure if he should push Jungkook away or pull him closer as he fought the oversensitivity setting in after his orgasm. 

Jungkook took that decision from him as he buried his face in Jimin’s neck, grinding into Jimin’s ass as he too finally toppled over the edge, milking his orgasm into the condom. 

They both stayed in their seated position for a few seconds, panting heavily as they came down from their highs. 

When Jungkook moved again, Jimin could feel the switch from this dominant persona to the man he had come to know in the way his hands caressed his arms. 

He gently pulled out and laid Jimin down on the bed, careful to not place him in the disgusting mess they had made but in a cleaner spot. 

Jimin smiled up at him tenderly – sleep trying to overwhelm him – as Jungkook discarded the condom. Soon enough, he was returning to Jimin’s side, cradling him to his chest as if he was the most precious thing in the world and pressing kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Are you okay? Was I too rough with you?” His tired voice was laced with worry which Jimin was quick to dispel. 

“I loved every second of it. You are perfect for me,” he whispered, lips seeking out Jungkook’s to seal their moment for eternity. 

“I’m glad. You are perfect to me too,” Jimin could feel the smile on the other’s face against his skin. They fell asleep soon after. Perfectly happy. 

Jimin kind of became insatiable after that initial time they were intimate with each other. Not that Jungkook minded much when their movie nights were interrupted by Jimin crawling into his lap. 

Everything just always felt so new and exciting with Jungkook, and as someone whose love language was expressed through quality time, Jimin was partial to quality bed wrestling sometimes. 

So when Jimin crawled into Jungkook’s lap after dinner that night, Jungkook already put the book he was reading down, a smirk playing on his lips. They hadn’t even changed out of their respective work clothes yet. “You’re early today,” he joked, making Jimin pout in his hold. 

“I just wanted a kiss,” he lied, puckering his lips for Jungkook who rolled his eyes in amusement. 

“Sure you did, little vixen,” he chuckled but indulged him anyway. 

Soon he was pushed down, Jimin having taken a seat right on his crotch as if he belonged there. He took the liberty to unbutton Jungkook’s white dress shirt, revealing his chest with every popped button. 

Jungkook watched him go with a small smirk on his face, otherwise completely pliant to Jimin’s advances. 

The nurse’s eyes gravitated to the scar on Jungkook’s abdomen, stroking it with his fingers. “It healed prettily,” he commented. 

“Oh, is this another checkup? I thought I was done with those.”

“Smartass,” Jimin glared, continuing his descent to the fly of his pants when he stopped. 

Jungkook was still wearing his gun holster, the smooth metal catching his eyes instantly. He was unsure if he could touch, but something warm coiled tight in his stomach at the sight. Was he…aroused? Jimin gulped. 

Jungkook suddenly reached out, taking the gun out of the holster. Within a second, bullets rained down over his exposed chest as he expertly emptied the magazine so it was safe to handle for Jimin’s inexperienced hands. 

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but next thing Jimin knew, he was pointing the barrel of the gun at Jungkook’s chest. His exhale sounded shaky and laborious even to his own ears when he finally made eye contact with Jungkook’s impossibly dark ones. 

A primal fear mixed with excitement zapped down Jimin’s spine at the expression. This was uncharted territory. 

Jungkook seemed to read his mind – or maybe he could feel the tension about to snap too. “Run,” the command was barely above a growl, but Jimin bolted over the headrest of the couch before he was done with the syllable, gun held tight in his hands. 

As if it could protect him. As if he even wanted it to.

Jungkook rounded on him way too quickly, Jimin dodging and weaving through furniture as he tried to – not really – get away. 

He screamed as he got caught by the hallway, Jungkook slamming him in the wall that toppled the small lamp sitting on the dresser next to them. It crashed to the floor with a loud bang, but Jimin barely heard it. 

His heart was in his throat from the adrenaline but his cock jumped in excitement at being caught. 

Jungkook’s thigh made its way between Jimin’s legs, pushing against his plumpening cock, drawing a loud moan from Jimin’s petal lips. 

The gun was wrestled from him easily, the cool metal suddenly pressed to the underside of his throat. Jimin swallowed drily, closing his eyes with another soft moan. 

“Caught you,” the words almost sounded mocking against Jimin’s lips, but before they could meet in a bruising kiss, the front door opened with such force, it crashed into the wall with a loud bang. 

“GET AWAY OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” The enraged voice of one Kim Taehyung startled them both so badly that they jumped away, Jungkook instinctively pointing the unloaded gun at the two intruders in the doorway. 

There they stood – Taehyung looking like an enraged angel of death next to Yoongi – armed with the defense baseball bat and a slipper respectively. 

“What-” Jimin started until his horny brain finally rebooted and he noticed for the first time the state they were both in. 

Jimin had screamed in their little chase, they had toppled the lamp of his dresser, and he had been tackled into the wall he shared with Taehyung and Yoongi’s apartment. All of that paired with the half-undressed stranger pointing a gun at Jimin surely did not look good. 

“It’s not what it looks like!” he screamed just as Taehyung was about to take a swing at Jungkook. 

The whole world stopped. Three pairs of eyes zeroing in on Jimin who was still standing against the wall like a trapped rabbit. 

“This is consensual, so don’t hurt him,” his voice sounded small and ashamed even to his own ears. 

“What?” 

“We’re sort of… together,” Jimin quickly glanced at Jungkook, who gave him a tense smile and a nod to continue what he was going to say. 

“I- I patched him up after that shootout in front of the hospital, and through circumstances we grew closer and now- yeah,” Jimin trailed away awkwardly at the end. 

Taehyung still looked a little confused, no doubt trying to process all the information he just got in such little time. 

When his eyes found Yoongi’s, Jimin just wanted to pass away on the spot. There it was. The disapproving-disappointed look in his eyes that could make flowers wilt on the spot and melt stone. The one look he never wanted to have directed at him, hitting him with the force of a thousand elephants fired out of a cannon. 

“We need to talk,” he simply said, stepping over the lamp pieces littering the floor and walking to Jimin’s bedroom. He didn’t pay Jungkook even a single glance. 

Taehyung followed behind without a single word, leaving only Jimin and Jungkook in the hallway now. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin mouthed at Jungkook, then followed behind. 

The second the door closed behind Jimin, Yoongi started chewing him out. Jimin had never really seen him angry before, but he knew it was born out of concern for him so he couldn’t really be angry at him. 

“What were you thinking?” He started pacing the room, Taeyhung throwing Jimin an unsure glance. 

“I couldn’t leave him to die on the streets!” 

“Oh, because he has such big problems with doing that? He’s a true peace-keeper, isn’t he?”

Jimin flinched, stare directed at his socked feet. 

“That man in your living room kills people, Jimin! Isn’t that in direct conflict with everything you stand for as a nurse?” 

“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through,” the protest sounded weak even in Jimin’s ears. 

Yoongi was right. He had tried to blend that part of Jungkook out completely. He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer to him, but he certainly was to some families. 

“The way you can’t meet my eyes tells me you know that whatever you have going on with him isn’t a good idea.”

At those words Jimin looked up, a defiant glimmer in his eyes as he found Yoongi’s. 

“We both know there is more to people than simple black and white, good and evil.”

“Maybe so, but reflect on what you want to associate with, Jimin.”

Yoongi calmly brushed past Jimin with those parting words, Taeyhung trailing after him with a soft sigh and tiny smile at Jimin. 

Within seconds Jimin and Jungkook were alone again, but all thoughts of romance were gone from their minds. 

He could see it in Jungkook’s smile that he had heard every single word that was flung across the bedroom. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered tearfully as he came to stand in front of him. 

Jungkook just shook his head, pulling Jimin into his embrace, lips pressed to his forehead. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, always so very tender in the way he comforted him. 

Nobody knew this side of him and Jimin’s heart broke for him. 

They went straight to bed after they had cleaned up the broken lamp, but neither of them slept. They were entangled tightly in each other, but both minds were far away. 

Jimin wanted to break the silence several times, but never found the courage to talk about what had happened and what had been said. 

The next morning, Jungkook was packing his bags. Jimin trailed after him like a lost puppy, hands itching to unpack every item packed away again. 

But he respected his decision. The difficulty of their relationship was violently dragged to the foreground yesterday, meaning they could not ignore it any longer. 

With the bags sitting at the front door, Jungkook finally spoke up. “I have made a decision,” he started, and Jimin’s tears started falling as if somebody had turned on the faucet in his eyes. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either but your friends are right. Our lives are not compatible with each other right now and I don’t want you to have to feel ashamed of the person you’re with.”

Jimin wiped at his eyes, feeling small in the middle of his hallway. 

“I won’t call it love, because it’s too early for that, but I know loving you would be the easiest thing in the world, honey boy. I want you to be able to be proud of the man I am, so there are some things that I have to change about my life. So I can be proud of who I am as well.”

He stepped closer now, brushing Jimin’s tears with the pads of his thumbs. There was hope in his eyes. 

“So I would like to ask you to wait for me while I make the arrangements to leave behind the bloody life I have been leading. It never suited me anyway, and now that my last remaining family member is gone, there is no reason to hold onto that part of the legacy. It would have died with me anyway, either through a bullet, sickness or old age.”

Jimin cupped the hands cradling his face, staring up at Jungkook with so much pride. There was a watery smile already forming on his lips. 

“I would wait for you a million years if that is what it took to have and keep you. And beyond the reach of this apartment also.” 

Jungkook smiled so big at his words, his eyes crinkled at the corners from happiness. He kissed all over Jimin’s face reverently. 

“When I return to you, I will be the kind of  man you can be proud of, Jimin.” 

Jimin walked him to the elevator, holding onto him until the very last second. 

“You already are.”