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Jimin taught himself a long time ago to not want, to not anticipate, to not need.
It was easier that way, to lower his expectations down to nearly nothing, to not expect new friends to stay, for lovers to stick around, or even his family to be consistent with keeping in touch. With his expectations low, he was less likely to be disappointed, less likely to be hurt when eventually the phone calls stopped happening, the texts stopped coming, the dates were ignored or missed or forgotten.
He was used to it now, asking for less, but that didn’t always stop him from wanting more.
He knew he wasn’t the most interesting person to be around. He preferred quiet things, nights in to nights out, books and parks over drinks and bars, the soft sound of music playing from his stereo over the bass of a club dance floor. He didn’t think liking those things was wrong, but he got it, he knew he wasn’t the best company because of his preferences.
He’d been told often enough anyway.
“You’re too quiet.”
“You never want to do anything fun.”
“You should try being spontaneous more often.”
But Jimin liked his routine, liked his silent mornings and his soft afternoons and his still nights.
Until one day his routine was gently interrupted by someone.
It’s a rare night out for Jimin, coerced and coaxed by his best friend, Namjoon, into coming out for a night of coffee and thoughtful conversation. The cafe they're sitting in is open until three am, and it’s almost two when Jeongguk walks in, hand raising in a sheepish greeting when the others in their friend group wave him over. Jimin is not expecting a seventh tonight, no one told him to prepare for this, and he definitely could have used some time to prepare, because…
Jeongguk is beautiful.
That is the first thing he thinks when he sees him, he’s never met him, only heard about him, but none of the stories have done him justice. He is beautiful in a way poets write about, beautiful in a way that songs should be written of. With his wide dark eyes framed by long dark lashes, with his hair curled and framing his face like a portrait, with his pretty smile and his sweet voice.
Because Jeongguk is lovely, his midriff exposed and a long, black ribbon tied around his neck and his silver jewelry winking like little stars that fell just to adorn him.
“I forgot to mention Jeongguk was coming,” Namjoon says softly, “I should have, sorry.”
Jimin can’t find it in himself to respond, staring (and he knows he’s staring) as Jeongguk walks across the room and every single pair of eyes in the little space falls on him. He moves like music, and maybe Jimin should stop with the metaphors, but nothing literal could ever come close to explaining what Jeongguk must be made off. Moonglow and mithril, sunsets and starlight.
“Is this seat taken?” He asks, and it takes Jimin a few seconds to realize that he’s being spoken to, he’s being asked, Jeongguk could have said the same thing to anyone else at their table, but he asked him, Jimin, no one else.
“No.” Jimin whispers, hating how faint his voice sounds, like he’s going to be blown away on gusts of wind and he’ll never be seen again.
Jeongguk smiles, he smiles and the world fades away to nothing but shadows, because Jimin didn’t know true light until that very moment.
Jeongguk sinks down next to him and offers a hand to shake, a large hand, all veined and just as beautiful as the rest of him, “I’m Jeongguk.”
“Jimin,” he replies, because other words beyond that are beyond him.
The night unfolds like this-
Jeongguk listens, he is quiet and he is sweet and he speaks when spoken to yes, but he listens, he really listens, eyes wide and attentive, and Jimin notices right away that he doesn’t ask for more than what is offered, he never demands answers, never implies he needs more. He takes what is given and looks happy just to have that.
Are you like me? Jimin wants to ask it, Have you stopped asking for more because you’re scared too?
The night ends like this-
Everyone outside, breath escaping like ghosts in the cold night air, and Jimin stands by, waiting for Namjoon to say his goodbyes to everyone and suddenly Jeongguk is there, close close close, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, pretty pretty pretty.
The night air is frigid around them, their breath escapes their lungs and forms into little phantoms that fade into the darkness. Jeongguk looks cold, huddled in on himself and shivering.
Jimin wants to give him his jacket.
Jeongguk doesn’t ask but Jimin thinks that maybe he can give it anyway.
Jimin shrugs out of his coat and holds it out, Jeongguk looks at him with questions and wonder in his eyes.
“It’s cold,” Jimin says by way of explanation.
Overhead the sky is dark and empty, all the stars have fallen and landed in Jeongguk’s eyes.
He holds his jacket out and feels like a fool until those long fingers reach out and take it, shy and slow, eyes blinking big and smile so soft, “Thanks,” Jeongguk whispers.
“Yeah,” Jimin says.
“It was nice getting to meet you.” Jeongguk says, staring down at the cracks in the pavement.
“Yeah,” Jimin says, and then shakes his head because he should say something other than that, “It was nice meeting you too.”
“Will you be here… next week?” Jeongguk asks.
The Jimin at the start of the night would have said no, but the Jimin right here, right now, bathed in starlight that shines from a pretty boy's eyes says, “Yeah, I will be.”
He catches his other friends staring, they know him, know he wouldn't typically agree to going out again so soon, but Jeongguk is smiling and beautiful and his long fingers curl around the edges of Jimin’s jacket and hold it a little closer and though they don’t really know each other, Jimin thinks it might be nice to try, just this once.
Next week it's raining. He wears a different jacket because he let Jeongguk take his the last time and he takes the subway because Namjoon is out of town. The rain doesn’t fall hard, just enough to make the sidewalks shine and the street lights look fuzzy. The neon lights reflect in the water, bright like spilled paint, he wants to dip his fingers in the puddles and bathe the shadows with colors. He wants to reach out and craft stars from the streetlights. Instead he bows his head against the rain and walks, hopes for his night to be colored by Jeongguk instead. He gets to the cafe and sees a figure standing outside, alone, and Jimin hesitates when he realizes who it is.
“Been waiting for you,” Jeongguk says, holding out a jacket, Jimin’s jacket, and he didn’t have to wait outside, it’s cold, even with him wearing his own coat, but he did and it’s weird, Jimin isn’t used to someone giving… someone giving back. He takes the jacket, their fingers brush, and the neon is lighting Jeongguk’s face in soft pink and dark blue and he is pretty pretty pretty.
Jeongguk sits next to him again, whines and complains and urges YG to shift aside until there is space next to Jimin and he doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand why Jeongguk wants to be beside him. He’s quiet and shy and Jeongguk shines bright, Jeongguk is the city at night, he is sweet and lovely and charming, and Jimin is just Jimin.
He says something like that to Namjoon, when the two of them are alone for a brief moment, and Namjoon looks at him and shakes his head and smiles, “Maybe he feels safe next to you, maybe he feels at ease.”
Jimin doesn’t know what to say to that, but he likes the idea, that Jeongguk feels secure at his side, like he’s a lighthouse, a harbor, a landing pad that can offer rest. He hopes Namjoon is right, he hopes he offers Jeongguk comfort.
Jimin doesn’t know how it happens, how they exchange numbers, how Jeongguk texts first and Jimin texts back, how he responds to every message, asks questions, gives and takes and takes and gives and Jimin is dizzy with it, so unused to having things returned, having effort match effort. He’s scared, feels like he’s teetering on the edge of an abyss and eventually he’ll fall and no one will be there to catch him in the end. The fear grows and grows, a monster under the bed reaching up in the small hours of the night, telling him he’s already let too much go, that he’s going to regret giving away so much of himself to this star-filled stranger who someone else might call a friend.
But Jimin is too scared to make that jump, even though everything about Jeongguk says he will reach out to catch him, that he won’t let him fall.
The fear spirals, a galaxy of doubt that spins at dizzy speeds in his head, and the monster now at his throat, clawed hands on his skin, making it hard to breathe, telling him he’s not worth the effort Jeongguk is showing, telling him he’ll get bored, he’ll disappear, that all of this is too good to be true.
So Jimin disappears first.
It’s the coward's way out, he knows that, but it’ll hurt a lot less if he gives up first, years of experience have taught him that. He finds little distractions, creates problems that need fixing, finds ways to not show up to the cafe or respond to texts or answer calls. Jeongguk is patient though, always forgiving, always willing to take what is given, even if it’s not much, but Jimin knows it’s only a matter of time before Jeongguk gives up on him just like everyone else has.
Except… he doesn’t.
After missing three weeks in a row of meet ups, Jimin is sitting at home in his pajamas, working on a project that doesn’t really need his attention, coffee table littered with papers and his laptop and his lower lip chewed raw because he’s so anxious about his own self sabotage he can barely think. He hears his phone ding a couple times, but ignores it in favor of staring at the mess in front of him and thinking about the mess inside of him.
The gentle sound of someone knocking on his front door half an hour later is harder to ignore.
He frowns as he pushes himself up off the couch, can’t begin to guess who it could be out there because what friends he does have are all at their usual hang out and it’s inching towards 8 pm, a little late for people to be going from door to door.
He cracks the door open just enough to see who is outside and is met with wide, luminous eyes, eyes he’s come to be very familiar with despite his better judgment. He immediately panics and almost closes the door, but catches it half a moment later, stammering out a greeting, well aware that he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Jeongguk?" His voice sounds distressingly high in his ears, and he's certain he is blushing, "What are you doing here?"
"Hi," Jeongguk says, as if that’s any sort of response to someone whose sanity is crumbling before their eyes, “I brought dinner.”
Jimin lets his gaze fall to the white plastic bag clutched in one of Jeongguk’s hands, “Umm.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want it,” Jeongguk says in a rush, “I can just eat it or… I mean…” he trails off, gaze stuck in a spot on the still barely open door and cheeks tinted pink, “I can just- I can go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced, that was dumb of me, I just, I heard from Joon that you’d been working a lot lately and I thought maybe it would be nice if you didn’t have to worry about food because I remember you said you’re bad about feeding yourself when you’re really busy and I didn’t like thinking that you maybe hadn’t eaten and I’m rambling I’m so sorry-“ Jeongguk cuts himself off and turns, and Jimin feels a fresh surge of panic because now that he’s here, he can’t just leave.
“Wait!” Jimin as he throws the door open, wincing as it slams into the wall but leaning forward to grab Jeongguk’s arm before the man can truly disappear, “I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard… you can… you can come in,” the last words are said in a whisper, “You’re right, I haven’t had dinner yet and uh…” he throws a glance back at the cluttered table and the empty apartment, “it would be really nice to take a break… with you.”
He risks a glance up in time to watch Jeongguk’s expression turn from embarrassment to happiness, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Jimin nods firmly, “really.”
So that’s how he finds himself sitting next to Jeongguk, eating chicken and experiencing various levels of confusion because no one has ever done anything like this for him before. Whenever he makes excuses to not show up people take it at face value and… that’s it. He doesn’t show, they don’t offer to do anything, and that’s how things are, how they’ve always been.
Except now.
He thinks Jeongguk might be an exception to every rule Jimin has made for himself over the years.
The night unfolds like this-
Jimin reaches for the same piece of chicken as Jeongguk at the exact same time and it shouldn't be awkward. It shouldn't make him blush and pull his hand back as if burned. It shouldn't make the eye contact afterward so intense.
But it does.
Jimin forces his shoulders to drop, forces himself to smile, forces himself to say, "Sorry," in the most neutral way he can manage considering his heart is a thunderstorm in his chest.
Maybe this is why people don't spend time with him too often. Because aside from being boring, he's awkward too. But Jeongguk just flashes him a bright and blinding smile and chases his hand with his own, tangling their fingers together and giving it a little shake, "Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it."
The words echo around in Jimin's head for far too long, because how is he NOT supposed to worry about it, about how his heart felt battered and how his cheeks are warm and how Jeongguk is the prettiest person he's ever seen. There's a moment that lasts forever but really only lasts as long as it takes Jimin to draw half a breath before Jeongguk is disentangling their hands and waving away his discomfort away like it's a bothersome fly and not a weight that's been dragging Jimin down into a mire of his own creation.
They spend the rest of the evening talking, the show on the television forgotten in favor of little questions, little jokes. Jimin revels in the way Jeongguk watches and listens and takes but also gives pieces of himself away, beautiful pieces, all precious as jewels, little things for Jimin to covet and hold close.
Now Jimin knows his favorite color, his favorite band, his parents names, his birthday. Now Jimin knows that Jeongguk doesn’t like coffee but he does like mint chocolate ice cream. He knows that Jeongguk can sing but is shy, can paint but doesn’t do it often, knows and knows and everything he learns becomes treasure that Jimin wants to hoard because everything about Jeongguk feels precious and worthy.
It's late when Jeongguk leaves, nearly one in the morning, and Jimin might not have gotten any work done after Jeongguk appeared, like an angel from heaven bearing chicken wings instead of feathered ones, but he's so happy he can’t stop smiling, and that work didn't really matter, anyway. Not in the same way that Jeongguk's laughter matters, or his thoughts, his opinions, his delight in all the things that Jimin said or did as the night unraveled around them far more rapidly than Jimin is used to.
He leaves, lingering by the door, and Jimin doesn't want him to go, but he's not sure he has the language to ask for him to stay.
"This was nice," he offers instead of asking, asking feels a lot when Jeongguk has already given so much, "thank you."
"It was nice," Jeongguk nods, and there's something sparkling a little extra bright in his eyes when he asks, "do you know what else is nice?"
Jimin shakes his head, not certain how to reply, not certain that the night could get any nicer, but then Jeongguk swoops down and plants a satin-soft kiss on Jimin's cheeks, his own red red red, and while he's still there, still close, he whispers, "You are... Good night, Jimin hyung. I can't wait to see you again."
Then he's gone, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of his detergent and the feeling of his soft lips pressed to Jimin's skin, and Jimin, who reaches up to touch his cheek, eyes wide and lips parted, astounded by the turn of events.
He sinks into bed that night and he swears he can still feel Jeongguks kiss, like little petals pressed to his skin, and that night when he dreams he dreams that he looked into the mirror and saw his cheek shining bright like the touch of Jeongguks lips had left starlight in their wake.
Maybe, he thinks when he rises the next morning, it was all a dream- not just the starlight on his skin, but the whole night, from Jeongguk showing up at his door to their conversation to the goodbye at his door. Except that he walks into the kitchen and sees two glasses in the sink, waiting to be washed, and empty take out containers in the trash, he knows it was real.
It was real.
Jimin spends the rest of the day feeling a little lost and a lot overwhelmed. His phone takes his attention away from his job more often than not because Jeongguk is still there, still giving. He didn’t run away. He sends pictures of little things, the flower stall he walks passed on the way to his own job, a dog he met, his lunch- small, inconsequential things that feel so big because it’s Jeongguk who is sharing them.
Jimin starts to wonder if he isn’t boring after all, that maybe he just stopped thinking the little things mattered, so he stopped paying attention, stopped sharing them, shut himself away and ended up hurting himself more than he should have. But today he decides to try, today he sends Jeongguk a picture of the sunset from the street outside his work, he shares a selfie of himself eating his lunch, a picture of some street art he passes on the way to the metro. Jeongguk has things to say about all of them, their chat full of emojis and exclamation marks and laughter and Jimin falls asleep that night with a smile on his face.
It is still real.
It’s a gradual shift after that, a little tilt to his world that feels more like slipping down a children's slide then it does the axis of his existence flipping like it would have in the past. Jeongguk seeks him out, Jeongguk fills the hollow spaces in between- his lungs and his heart and his scurrying thoughts, and Jimin does his best to meet him there, to give back instead of pull away.
His fear is still there, he’s been left behind so many times that it is hard to disregard all those old wounds, but it is muted, dimmed by starshine and moonglow and Jeongguk’s big, bright, forever smile.
It’s Friday, and Jimin is at the cafe again and Jeongguk is curled up against him, pretty pretty in his oversized shirt that shows off his delicate collarbones and his soft skin. He’s showing Jimin his fingernails, which his niece painted with shimmering pale pink polish and he smells like strawberry lemonade. He wiggles a little in his seat, puppy-like squirming and a little pout on his lips until Jimin is forced to raise his arm and then Jeongguk is falling against his side with a happy sigh, bringing his legs up and tucking himself all small into Jimin.
He looks down and Jeongguk is looking right at him, face so close, eyes so big and shining with delight, “You’re warm,” Jeongguk says, snuggling a little closer, and Jimin smiles easy and pulls him a little nearer and gives and takes and takes and gives and the scales tilt and shift until a perfect balance is found, hung from chains of gold and heat.
He looks up and the others are sneaking surreptitious glances at them and Jimin sees no hint of judgment, no looks of disbelief. It’s like they seem them together it is right, it’s good, even though Jimin still has trouble letting go of his insecurities and he doesn’t understand what Jeongguk sees in him. Even though he is certain that Jeongguk could find someone more interesting, more brilliant and star born than Jimin is.
Jeongguk has kissed him a few more times since that night he’d come over. Little kisses, swift and certain, cupid darts to his jaw, his temple, his shoulder and neck. He’s always giggling and sweet when he does it, leans in, presses close, big hands wrapped around Jimin’s wrist, his waist, pink lips and watermelon gloss and shimmering delight, laughter and curls brushing soft against Jimin’s skin.
The night wanes like the moon, the others drift away to their own homes, Jeongguk and Jimin walk to the metro together, not wanting the night to end. Jeongguk’s hand is near his, Jimin can feel it, the way their knuckles brush against each other. He takes a silent breath, holds it for a heartbeat, and hooks their pinkies together, careful, gentle, loose in case Jeongguk doesn’t want it. He can feel Jeongguk look at him, he glances over, sees the smile, and gives in to the urge to tangle their fingers together completely, just like he wants their lives to be.
Their first real kiss goes like this-
They're standing at an empty station, waiting, still pressed together, no one else there to break the spell, and Jeongguk is standing with his back to a concrete pillar, coat hanging off his shoulder. His chin is tilted down as he smiles and he’s looking up through his lashes and playing with his lip ring and Jimin wants.
He wants to be brave, to continue this game of give and take, to move forward and to be met in the middle. So he leans in, close, close, and Jeongguk leans forward, close, close, and then they are kissing.
They are kissing and it’s just as sweet as Jeongguk, star light and star bright and the first stars they’ll see tonight. It’s roses in May and late August berries and the first snowfall of winter and warm sunlight in fall.
“More,” Jimin whispers when the first kiss stops.
And Jeongguk gives it to him
“More,” Jimin says again after the second.
And Jeongguk does, laughter and joy, giving and taking.
“More,” he pleads.
And Jeongguk listens.
Jimin taught himself a long time ago to not want, to not expect, to not need.
But Jeongguk has taught him that it is okay to do those things, it is okay to lean into the fear and the worry because he was there to catch him every time. Jimin doesn’t think he is broken or boring anymore.
He thinks he is loved.
And he is.
Fin.