Archive of Our Own

Jungkook hasn’t left the house in two weeks.

Well, not quite. He goes to work every day, working the morning shift at a corner store one neighbourhood away from his. He gets out of work at six and practically runs home, to be inside before it gets dark. 

There’s no lights on his street. One of them flickers. That’s the closest they’ve come to working in the past month Jungkook’s lived here. 

He double locks his flimsy door, slides the additional chains in, and tries to convince himself he’s safe. 

He is. Jimin knows this neighbourhood—he used to live here too, back when he first moved to the city, just two buildings down. It was the most affordable option for someone who doesn’t want to be found and has no money. It was an old neighbour of Jimin’s that let them know about the apartment being rented out—they went together, the two of them, and Jimin worked some big city magic and had the owner bending to his charm, and just like that, Jungkook had an apartment. 

An old run down studio, in an old, run down building, in an old run down neighbourhood. That’s the word Jimin keeps using—not poor, or dangerous, or disadvantaged. Run down. Sometimes he says a little rough, like it’s not its fault, like any day now it’s going to shake itself and shift into something more. 

Even with Jimin’s reassurances, Jungkook can’t get used to this. He’s never lived alone. There’s always been at least one other person in his home, plus his dad’s endless stream of weird friends who would just crush on their couch for indeterminate amounts of time and give him weird looks. 

He can’t get used to how thin the walls are. How creaky the doors. 

At least his bathroom’s renovated. 

He’s memorised every inch of this small space, and he’s sick of it, after two weeks of nothing else, which is why he’s clinging on to the dinner today like a lifeline. 

"Come early if you can, Jungkook-ah," Seokjin-hyung had said, "I always need the help, since no one else ever lifts a damn finger around here." 

So, Jungkook gratefully took the invitation and got there two hours before everyone else. He participated in the cooking a little, but his helping mostly consisted of nodding in support to whatever rant Seokjin pulled out of his pocket at any given minute. 

The doorbell rings as he’s looking for the plates to set up the table, and Jungkook’s head snaps up. Everyone else is here; Yoongi got here an hour ago, looking vaguely disappointed for some reason. Hoseok and Namjoon arrived together just twenty minutes ago, which means this can only be one person. 

“You getting that, please? Don’t think the others will,” Seokjin says with an eye roll. 

Jungkook wipes his hands on his jeans and gets it, and there's Jimin and Taehyung, hands held tightly between them. 

Jimin’s all bundled up, always one to be cold. He’s got a scarf on and a beanie clutched in his hand, the sleeves of his long sweater peeking out from the dark blue coat. His cheeks are flushed, his nose is red, his eyes are home. 

As soon as he registers him, Jimin smiles, wide and simple and loving. Jungkook's thoughts all white out instantly—his brain is a blank screen, the word  pretty flashing in big bold letters. 

"Hi!" 

He's hugged Jungkook the same, ever since they were kids. Back then, he was bigger than him, wrapping around Jungkook with ease and making him feel small and tucked away. Somehow, that still hasn't changed.  

Jungkook doesn't let himself linger, because Jimin's cheek is pressed against his and he smells so good and his boyfriend is right there. 

He pats Jimin's back slightly and he gets one more tight squeeze before Jimin goes inside. 

"How's it going?" Taehyung asks, a familiar awkwardness slipping into his voice. 

"Good," Jungkook says, staring just above Taehyung's shoulder. "Food's almost ready."  

"Can't wait!" 

It sounds a little forced. Jungkook responds with a tight smile. 

He knew Taehyung would be here. Jimin told them, and what's more, it seems that where Jimin goes, Taehyung goes, these days.

Ever since Jungkook moved here and found him again, he'd known Jimin had a boyfriend. It took months to actually meet him, though—Taehyung's schedule is completely erratic, if Jimin is to be believed. 

He'd never known Jimin in a relationship, when they were younger. He never could have been, not with what his folks were like. It's still hard for him to digest. That's why Jungkook doesn't look at them, shoulders pressed together, as they sit next to each other at the dinner table. That, and the other, more pressing reason. 

He doesn't speak a lot during the meal. He never does, really, in big groups—six people's attention on him at once can be overwhelming, especially when one of them flusters him enough to count for five. 

He listens, eating the food he helped prepare gratefully. He eats the carrots he was chopping when Seokjin was complaining about work, and he slurps the noodles he put to boil when Seokjin was detailing how stupid his last work meeting was, and he thinks about how lucky he is that he's not spending the night alone. 

Lucky, to have been accepted into their little group this quickly. Jimin invited him out with them on Jungkook's very first week in Seoul, stuck by him the whole evening, making sure he had something to talk about with everyone, throwing him encouraging smiles when he left them alone to discuss. He's good at that sort of thing, Jimin. Jungkook never was. 

Jungkook mostly sticks by Yoongi tonight, his quiet solid presence doing wonders for whatever this unsettled feeling is in his stomach. It’s hard to get back into the swing of talking, sometimes, when he spends most of his time alone. Yoongi doesn’t talk that much either, comfortable in silence, so it makes Jungkook feel better.

He's very aware of Jimin at all times. He hears his laugh across the room, and turns to look, gets caught staring for a moment, just prettyprettypretty. 

Jimin doesn't spend all his time with Taehyung. He talks to Namjoon for a while, telling a story with exaggerated gestures that make him laugh. He helps Seokjin clean up the table, he asks Yoongi's advice on something. Jungkook's instinct is to trail after him, but he stays put.

He's still thinking of the moment when he opened the door and blacked out, Jimin's face the only thing that existed for a few seconds. He didn't know that kind of thing happened in real life. He thought it was made up romcom bullshit, and yet here he is, a grown man, getting sparkle vision because of a boy. 

It might be fine if it was just anyone, but Jimin is so much to Jungkook.

He's his best friend. He's the one thing Jungkook could always count on to be there—until one day, he wasn't. For the next two years, he wasn't. 

Then he crashed back into Jungkook's life, jumping straight back to best friends again.

Only...it doesn't quite fit anymore. An old favourite sweater he grew out of,  but can't part with. There's something more there, something tight and unsettling threaded into the comfort of him.

Jungkook's dreading the moment Jimin notices. 

He's frowning at nothing, kind of mad at himself, when Jimin sinks into the couch next to him.

"Hey you," he says, poking at the crease between Jungkook's eyebrows. "What's got you so moody?"

The truth is off limits, so he has to improvise. "I think I ate too much." 

Jimin raises his eyebrows at him. "The Jungkook I know can never eat too much," he says, squinting at him suspiciously. 

He’s always saying that, these days. The Jungook I know this, back then you didn’t use to that, like he’s keeping a tally of everything he’s missed, splits Jungkook into new and old and tries to keep track. 

"Are you sure you're my Jeon Jungkook?" He pokes him again, on the cheek this time. 

Jungkook smiles despite himself. Smiles because Jimin’s close, because he’s got his attention, because my Jeon Jungkook. His dimple is right where Jimin's poked him. Jimin smiles, satisfied, as if he aimed for it.

"Promise, hyung."  

"What is it, really?" he persists, voice a bit quieter so the others won't hear. "How did you sleep last night?' 

"It was good, " Jungkook rushes to reassure. "Six hours and a bit!" 

"But did you rest?' 

Jungkook scrunches his face, and that's answer enough. Jimin's turn to frown now. 

He never should have told Jimin about his sleep problems. It had been wrenched out of him in a moment of weakness, admitting that he was still unsettled, sometimes, by the city, by the violent, constant sounds coming in from the street, the crashing and banging and thudding that’s always happening somewhere in his building. 

Immediately, this set off a worry in Jimin that he can't seem to turn off, as if he's the sole responsible for acclimating Jungkook in this new life. 

Here, too, his worry is evident in his thoughtful little frown. "What if—" 

Taehyung chooses that exact moment to come plop onto the couch practically in Jimin's lap, immediately redirecting Jimin's attention as he leans in and kisses him. 

Jungkook looks away hastily. That's rude, isn't it? Interrupting someone's discussion like that just to launch into PDA? Surely, it's not just Jungkook's biased feelings, here. He has half a mind to get up and leave without a word, but he was on this couch first and he will stay here, pettily. 

Jimin laughs a little before he sits up, and Jungkook can't help sneaking a glance. His cheeks are flushed and he's got a hand over his mouth, covering his smile. 

Not for Jungkook, this time. 

A little after midnight, everyone starts shuffling out. Jungkook slips out the door first after waving a quiet goodbye, mind already racing trying to picture his way back.

The bus stop is only five minutes walking. The streets are empty, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Surely, there will be people at the stop. And then it's just a quick bus ride, another little walk, and he's home. He knows the way, he's memorised it. He doesn't need to be stressed. 

He pulls the hood over his head, tracing through the way mentally, and just as he's about to take the first turn, someone catches the back of his jacket. 

Jungkook immediately grabs the arm back and twists it, keeping whoever it is in place, heart hammering in his chest. 

"It's me!" Jimin says, putting his other hand up in surrender. 

Jungkook instantly lets go. "Hyung, you scared the shit out of me!"

Jimin rubs at his arm. "I called for you twice, but you were completely lost to the world." He readjusts his scarf to go up to his nose, red from the cold. It’s so cute. 

"Sorry," Jungkook says, looking at the ground. He sniffs.  "Did I hurt you?"

"It's okay," Jimin says. "You didn't take my head off with your power moves,” he puts up his fists and gives two tiny punches to the air, “so it's all good." 

Jungkook laughs. "What are you talking about, power moves."  

"Well, I don't know! Seems pretty powerful to me."  

"Are you looking for a fight or what?" Jungkook grins. He raises his fists back. "Come on."  

Jimin shakes his head. He reaches out and catches Jungkook's hand in his own, and Jungkook's heart lurches violently. 

"No, no," he says, pulling Jungkook down the street. "No adrenaline this late at night."  

"What are you doing?' 

"Hm? Going home."  

"You don't live this way," Jungkook says, letting himself be pulled anyway. "Where are you going?"

"You left without saying goodbye."

"Hyung." Cut the bullshit, his tone says, and Jimin rolls his eyes at it.

“Okay, fine. I was going to ask you before, but we were interrupted," he says, burrowing a little deeper into his scarf, like he's embarrassed. "And you ran away before I could talk to you, so I had to make an executive decision."  

'To walk me home like a baby?"

"There's no shame in walking each other home."

Jungkook looks down, scolded at the slightly stern tone of Jimin's, the one that says you should know better.

"Also, I'm not just walking you home, I'm staying over."  He can see Jungkook about to protest, so he barrels on. "I think it might help you to have someone else in the apartment with you. For sleeping, I mean." He pulls Jungkook's hood back up with his free hand. "No offence, Kook, but you look like shit." He catches Jungkook's nose between his index and middle finger and squeezes, to take the sting out of insulting him, like he used to do when they were little. 

Jungkook bats his hand away, blushing. "Gee, thanks," he says. "Just what you want to hear after a party."  

"That's how all the best parties end, don't you know?" Jimin smiles at him. 

"Not really," Jungkook mumbles, looking down at their joined hands. "Where's Taehyung?"

"Home?" He sounds confused. "What does he have to do with you needing a good night's sleep?" 

Jungkook sighs, frustrated. "You shouldn't have to do this. I need to get over myself eventually."  

It’s been months, months of having an apartment and a job and a life here, and he’s still jumping at every shadow, at every noise. 

"You will. It took me a while to get used to it, too," he says, and then adds, softer, "I would have liked to have you around, back then."   

That sends Jungkook's heart in a wild somersault, but he ignores it. "I can't ask you to do this."  

"Did you ask?" Jimin says. "Funny, I don't remember that. I just remember following you home to sing you lullabies."  

Jungkook snorts. "Not the worst thing that can happen when people follow you home."  

"Don't say things like that."  

"Well, I’m safe tonight,” Jungkook says, wanting to chase away that dark tone in Jimin’s voice. “Since hyung's coming with me."

Jimin nods. "Right." He squares his shoulders, brings his fists up again and throws a playful little punch. So cute.   

Soon, they're in Jungkook's tiny apartment, and Jungkook's ruffling through the drawers frantically, but they refuse to reveal a second pair of pajama pants for Jimin.  

"I thought I had one, I'm sorry—"

"Don't worry about it. Look, here."  He pulls up a shirt from the drawer Jungkook's rifling through, one that's big even for him. "This one is long. I'll just wear it like a night dress." 

Jungkook blinks at him. "Right."  

"Right," Jimin smiles, raising an eyebrow at him. Jungkook feels like he's being teased, but he's not exactly sure how or why. "Wash up, get in bed."  

Jungkook runs away to the bathroom quickly, blushing, and when he comes back out, Jimin is sitting with his back to the wall. Jungkook takes three seconds, just three seconds, to appreciate the sight of him, soft and sleepy, in Jungkook’s bed, in Jungkook’s clothes, looking for all the world like he's meant to be here. 

One, two.

Three. 

Jimin doesn't look up from his phone immediately when Jungkook joins him under the covers. He's smiling down at it, typing something quickly and then biting his lip, waiting for an answer. 

"Sorry," Jimin says when locks his phone and puts it away, on the floor next to the bed. "Taehyungie told me to text him when we got here safe."  

Right. Smiling, biting his lip. Smitten boyfriend. 

"He says goodnight," Jimin adds, as he turns to face Jungkook. 

Jungkook nods. He doesn't really know what else to say. 

Jimin never talks to him about Taehyung. Sometimes it even feels like he's avoiding even using his name around Jungkook, but that can't be right. 

Morbid curiosity gets the best of him. “You’ve been together almost two years, right?” 

“One year and ten months.” A nod. “Yes.” 

“Who made the first move?” He frowns as soon as he says it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. If you think it’s too personal, or whatever.” 

Jimin looks at him with gentle confusion all over his face. “Too personal? Between you and me?” He shakes his head. “You know I tell you everything.” 

Jungkook swallows down his guilt. “So, who?” 

“It was me.” 

That’s exactly what Jungkook was afraid of. 

"How come?" 

“I just thought he was so handsome, you know? So beautiful in this aloof way of his. Like, he’s the kind of person people see in the street for a second and fall in love and never see again.” He smiles. “Except he fell for me back.” 

The sharp pain in Jungkook’s chest is entirely his own fault. It’s spreading out from his scorned little heart to his lungs, choking him, to his arms, numbing them. 

This just confirms what he already knew, why is it so hard to hear? He knew Jimin didn’t have these kinds of feelings for him, not now, not before, not ever. Jungkook’s alone in them and he knew, he knew, so why did he go looking to get hurt? 

Jimin shivers a little, and Jungkook frowns. His whole back is pressed to the freezing humid wall, since Jungkook doesn't own a second pillow either. 

He slips his own from under his head and puts it behind Jimin's back. 

"What are you doing?"

"You'll get cold," Jungkook says, folding his arm under his head and settling again. 

He gives him what he probably thinks passes as a disapproving glare, but it just makes Jungkook want to hug him. 

"Jungkook, the point of doing this is you sleeping comfortably."

"You're here too, hyung, are you just going to lean against the cold wall all night?"

"Don't worry about me."

"Aren't you here to help me sleep? What's with all the talking?" He closes his eyes hard, pulls the blanket up to his chin. It doesn’t do much to warm him up. "Get to helping."

Jimin laughs. "You—" He huffs a little. He grabs Jungkook’s shirt and pulls, hard. "Come here, then."

"Where."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "Here," he says, and pulls again, harder than before. "Put your head on my lap."

Jungkook just stares at him.  He seems to be serious, which is devastating. 

His lap. His lap, that's barely covered by the long shirt he got from Jungkook. Which at the slightest movement could ride up, and then they'd be skin to skin. Jungkook’s lips to the softness of Jimin’s thigh. 

Smitten. Boyfriend, Jungkook reminds himself.

"Come on, Jungkook-ah, we don't have all night."

Jungkook doesn't really have a choice, not when Jimin's looking at him like that, and Jungkook wants to listen to him anyway. 

So he settles on Jimin's lap, and Jimin pulls the covers over him. 

"Alright?" Jungkook nods. "Okay. Do you really want me to sing you lullabies?"

"Whatever you want," Jungkook mumbles. 

Jimin starts humming softly, and the sound of it fills up the room. It flies around them and settles everywhere, pressing down in the best way. 

He startles a little when he feels Jimin's hand slip into his hair, running through it slowly, keeping a sweet pace that matches his song. It’s all warm, all safe. 

Tears come to Jungkook's eyes, but he works hard to keep them back, because Jimin would feel them. 

When he wakes up, he feels brand new. For the first time in forever, he hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night because of the never ending weird noises—he’d slept soundly throughout.

He stretches slowly, savouring every single second of it, eyes still closed. His limbs are pleasantly heavy, and his head feels clear. 

Jimin's lying down next to him, deep in sleep. His hair is fanned all over the pillow, breathing softly, and Jungkook is struck with it. 

They used to do this all the time when they were little. Their moms were friends, so it was easy to convince them to have sleepovers. It's far from the first time in his life waking up next to Jimin. 

But he’s not at home. He’s not waking up in that tiny single bed he’d cried so many tears on, wondering why his mother left and why his father suddenly didn’t love him anymore. 

He took himself away from that, found a different tiny bed in a crumbling old building, and Jimin’s still here, somehow—still next to him, sleeping soundly, no worries or hung-ups between them, despite the two years they’d gone without each other.

His instinct says to lean forward and kiss Jimin awake, kiss his shoulder where the shirt's absurdly big neckline is open, kiss his neck, warm from sleep, his jaw. See his eyes flutter open and close again in a smile, a smile that's meant just for Jungkook, and then lean in and kiss him properly, kiss him deep and gentle and loving like the way Jimin makes him feel when he sings him to sleep.

Jimin's phone starts vibrating in a call, and the moment's stolen from Jungkook, just like that. 

Not that he could do anything about it, of course. 

"Mmmm." Jimin stretches sleepily. The blanket has slipped away from them, and the shirt does ride up, and Jungkook turns around and gets up and does not look.
"Morning."

"Morning." He checks his own phone, uselessly. The only people that have this number are their friends, still recovering from the late night just like them, and Jungkook’s shitty boss who always calls instead of texting. 

Jimin sits up a little, blinks blearily. "How’d you sleep?" 

"Really good," Jungkook says, looking at him, just so he knows he means it. That he's grateful, even if he can't say it. 

"Really?" Jimin smiles at him, pleased. His voice is scratchy, from the singing and the sleep. The damn phone is still buzzing. 

"Really, hyung." He turns away, tries to put some distance between them. 

"I'm glad," Jimin says, and yawns a little. "Sweetheart?" 

Jungkook's whole soul gives a flip, and he snaps his head back to look at Jimin. 

"Good morning to you too," Jimin says into his phone. Thank god he was rubbing at his eyes and didn't see the way Jungkook stood at full attention when he said that, to his boyfriend, who's calling him first thing in the morning, because they're in disgusting, awful, bruising love.

Jungkook takes a quiet breath just for himself, his lungs pressing into that want, growing roots inside his chest hard and fast.

He gets up and all but flees to the bathroom, leaving Jimin's rough morning whispers with Taehyung, where they belong. 

────────

Being drunk is fun, Jungkook thinks. Fun, fun, fun. So what if he's by himself, hm? So what if it's a Friday night and he's alone, his mood in the pits because he hasn't seen anyone in a week other than his piece of shit boss, and because the cat he tried to pet on the way home rejected him? So what! He has wine, and that's all that matters. 

It doesn’t matter that it’s his dad’s birthday today. Doesn’t matter that he knows that right now, back home, there’s all kinds of strangers dirtying his mom’s furniture while his dad lets it happen, like it’s some divine punishment. Doesn’t matter if some part of him thinks that his place is back there, running off to get them snacks and paying out of his own pocket, just so they don’t get angry. 

Maybe he's not all the way drunk yet, but he certainly plans on getting there, to drink until he blacks out. In his dad’s honour. Dishonour, whatever. 

Yes, good plan. 

The doorbell rings and Jungkook jumps out of his skin. He tiptoes to the door and looks through the peephole, and his whole heart stops, because Jimin's here. He's here!

"Jiminie's here!" he says, as he pulls the door open. "Why?" 

"Hi?" Jimin looks at him, confused. "What do you mean, why? Did you forget I was coming over?" 

Jungkook's just sitting there, leaning on the door and taking him in. 

"No? Today isn't Tuesday?" They've taken to hanging out at least once a week, at Jimin's insistence. He's said, what Jungkook needs to feel at home in his new apartment is to truly live in it—make it look like his own, spend time there alone, with friends. So, Jimin's been helping.

He hasn’t mentioned inviting anyone else yet. Maybe he wants Jungkook to take the initiative. 

Jimin keeps looking at him suspiciously. "Jungkook-ah. Are you drunk?"

"Not yet," Jungkook says. "It's not Tuesday."

"You're right, it's not," Jimin steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and locking. Clunk goes the deadbolt. "But something came up on Tuesday, so I rescheduled? We talked about this."

"We talked," Jungkook repeats. He's finding it very hard to not just stare at Jimin, lovesick. His hair is parted on the side, a gorgeous little sweep. It’s still black, and this troubles Jungkook. It’s so pretty, but he knows Jimin’s always wanted to dye it a bright colour. 

"We talked," Jimin repeats it slowly, like he's talking to a child. "Did you have dinner?"

Jungkook giggles. "Does it look like I had dinner?" 

He’s trying not to sway forward, gushy and happy to be in Jimin’s presence. Behave yourself, Jungkook. 

Jimin suppresses a smile. "Let me try again. Let's have dinner."

"I don't have anything."

"Do you have ramen?"

"Well. Yeah." 

'Then you have enough. Sit down, Kook, food’s ready soon."

"No! I have a better idea." Jungkook jumps in front of Jimin, blocking his way. Jimin blinks at him in surprise. "Drink with me."

He gets a flat look back. “Jungkook.”

"Come on, hyung," he says, drawing it out. He puts his hands on Jimin's sides and pulls him a bit closer. "Please. I haven't seen you all week. I want to see you." 

"You're seeing me now," Jimin says, but he's smiling a little. He brings his hands up to Jungkook's arms, holds him. 

They're holding each other. Jungkook is so happy. Who knew that’s all it would take to make him happy, just Jimin touching him, smiling at him, in his apartment, just the two of them, close close close. 

He feels a bit dizzy. He wants to sway into him. 

"And you want to put me to sleep!" Jungkook pouts. Last time Jimin was here, he’d insisted Jungkook had looked too tired, and dragged him to bed immediately. What if he wants to do the same today? 

Jimin snorts. "Don't say it like that, you're not a sick dog." 

"You want me to sleep right away? Don't you want to talk to me at all?" Jungkook's feeling sad all of a sudden. He leans his forehead on Jimin's, sighs a bit. "Don't you miss me at all?"

He feels Jimin freeze, and then there's a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing. "Ah, what's gotten into you?" His voice is soft, and he's so close. Jungkook never wants to move. 

"Missed you," Jungkook mumbles, and now he's really sad. He shifts, sliding his arms around Jimin's waist, wanting to be closer. 

"Did you?" He sounds like he's smiling. "Kind of felt like you've been avoiding me these days."

"That's different," Jungkook says, and pulls away to look Jimin in the eyes. "It's different."

"So you have?"

Jungkook shakes his head, even though it's true. He can't tell him why though. Can’t tell him he tries very hard to ignore him sometimes, because there’s Taehyung by his side, getting to touch him and hold his hand and be with him. He can’t tell him any of that. Ah, this is frustrating. 

"Jiminie-hyung." He has his fist tight in Jimin’s sweater, pulls on it for emphasis. 

Jimin squeezes the nape of his neck. "What is it?" 

"Drink some wine with me." 

Jimin looks like he wants to insist for a second, but then his expression relaxes. 

"One glass, okay?"

Jungkook beams.  

Five glasses in, they’re sitting pressed together on the floor. Jimin’s looser than before, and Jungkook’s officially drunk. The more he sits by Jimin, the more he settles, the nagging misery of his week slowly melting away. He’s relaxed and content and Jimin’s right next to him, telling him stories and poking him and looking at him. Just him.

"One more," Jungkook says cheerily, trying to empty the bottle in Jimin’s glass. 

Jimin groans. "Enough!" He catches Jungkook’s wrist, stilling it before he can. "It's really late, Jungkook-ah."

"So! Just have one more."

Jimin shakes his head. He plucks the bottle out of Jungkook’s hands, puts it behind his back, out of reach. Jungkook makes a noise of complaint.

"Come on, hyung," Jungkook whines, trying to reach around Jimin to grab the bottle. "We've never done this. We never got drunk together." 

Jimin steadies him with a hand at his waist when he almost tips over. "Why do you want that so badly?" 

"You're supposed to do that with your best friend, aren't you?" He abandons the bottle idea, too hard for his limited balance, so he drops his head on the bed, eyes closed. "We were supposed to sneak booze from one of our parents' cupboards when they're not home and drink it all together for the first time, and then get scolded and punished and grounded together for weeks, and then we'd always talk about it whenever we drank together again." 

Jimin's silent, so Jungkook goes on. "I wanted to ask you to come over on my birthday that year and do it then." He shrugs. "But then you weren't there anymore." 

The sting of it is old and familiar, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much. He knows the way it hurts, and it’s fine.

"Kook." 

Jungkook looks at him, and he realises their faces are so close. Does Jimin realise that? Does Jimin realise that he’s looking at him intense enough to make his heart stop? Does Jimin keep falling into these moments, same as him? 

"I know you said it didn’t matter anymore," Jimin starts, and oh, it’s this again. No matter how many times Jungkook tries to avoid the subject, to pretend these past two years were nothing, Jimin keeps bringing it back, eyes swimming in guilt and unshed tears. 

"I couldn't—I couldn't breathe there, anymore. I thought a clean cut would be the best for everyone, I didn't want my parents to come to you and harass you and…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “God, I don't know." 

"I wouldn't have told them," Jungkook mumbles, heart trembling. 

"I know," Jimin says, sounding choked up. "I know that now. I just...I needed to cut all ties.”

“You know why I’m here?” Jungkook asks softly. 

Jimin looks at him with pained eyes. “I can imagine.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. If there’s any day to talk about this, it’s today, right? “It got worse. It wasn’t just yelling anymore.” He shrugs. “You know, right after you left, I found a job.” To raise money. To come find you.  

“You did?” 

He sounds worried, like he’s doing the mental math and calculating exactly how hard it must have been for Jungkook back then, still so young and shy, to find a job and keep it. 

It was hard. He hated every second, but he just had one goal. “I knew when you got out that I had to get out too.” 

Jimin reaches for his wrist, grabs his shirt tightly, a point of contact between them. “Jungkook-ah.” 

“I imagined you somewhere, happy.” Jungkook smiles at the familiar thought; comforting, motivating. “Dancing, like you wanted. Maybe with a cat.” 

Jimin’s looking at him like his heart is breaking. “No cat yet.” 

“But the rest, you got it.” He can’t help the wonder that slips into his voice. He shakes his head. “I’m so proud of you, hyung. Seeing you like this…it makes me think I made the right choice. Even if it took so long.” 

There’s tears glinting in Jimin’s eyes. He scoots closer, fingers tightening on Jungkook’s shirt. “You don't know how..." He tries to talk, but he can't get the words out without his voice trembling. "I..." 

Jungkook hates seeing him like this. He wants him happy, always. He thought they'd drink some, giggle, maybe break something. He didn't want tears. Never,  for Jimin. “It’s okay,” he mutters in a meagre reassurance. He doesn't need an explanation. Having Jimin here now is enough for him.

"Just…” He catches Jungkook’s hand in his. “I'm here, alright? I don't want you to be scared.” He squeezes Jungkook's hand.  “I'm here, even if I wasn’t before." He kisses his knuckles, just once, voice choked up and heavy. "I won’t leave you again." 

Jungkook will never breathe again, maybe. "Yeah?"

"I promise."

God, Jungkook wants to kiss him. 

He wants to, he needs to, he doesn’t know how much fucking longer he can keep this in.

He swallows hard, and leans in. 

He kisses Jimin on the cheek, lingers just a second, just…he rests his forehead on Jimin’s temple, hears his breath hitch as tears finally fall. 

He wants to tell him it doesn’t matter. He wants to tell him he’s in love. He wants to tell him he’d forgive him worse. 

He's drowning in the past, and the alcohol is making his head swim. 

"Why couldn't you do it on Tuesday, again?" he asks, just to move them back to the present. 

"Taehyung and I are going away for a couple weeks," Jimin says. "For his birthday." 

"Right," Jungkook says, stomach sinking. He tries to keep his face neutral. "Right, you did tell me. I remember now." 

He gets up. He turns his back on Jimin. He rubs his eyes, takes a deep, deep breath, mumbles something about going to the bathroom. 

He doesn’t look back, too scared of what he might see. 

“Watch it!” his boss growls as Jungkook drops the boxes on the ground a little heavier than he wanted. 

Jungkook jumps, and then immediately stills, muscle memory kicking in. It wasn't even that hard, but he'd been watching him, waiting for Jungkook to slip up, somehow. 

He comes towards him, glaring at him as he harshly rips them open and inspects the produce. “You’re lucky nothing spilled,” he says, voice grating against Jungkook in such a familiar way. “So fucking lucky, kid.” He gestures to it. “Shelf it, right now. And if a customer comes in, take care of it.” He sniffs. “I’m going out for a minute.” 

A minute can range anywhere from half an hour to the rest of Jungkook’s shift, even overtime he’s never getting paid for. He always comes smelling of strong alcohol, and Jungkook’s sure that’s not the only thing he’s taken. 

Whatever. Not like he’s never dealt with this before. 

He keeps his head down until he hears the door close and sighs. He starts shelfing the drinks first. It’s not so bad, as a task. It’s repetitive, and he gets to make everything all tidy. There’s worse things, he’s sure. 

His head is pounding. The bright white lights and flashing neon sign over the cast register are not helping, either. 

Jimin woke him up this morning with a soft whisper of gotta go, Jungkook-ah, okay? have a good day! 

Jungkook was too asleep to really remember anything, so he didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. He won’t see him for two more weeks. 

Two weeks feels enormous. Feels like the sun’s gone with him, and it will all be one long endless string of gray until he comes back. 

How did he make it two years? Seems impossible, now. Seems unthinkable, to not even know how to reach him. I needed to cut all ties, he’d said. 

Jungkook quietly disagrees. Didn’t he know that Jungkook would have gone with him in a heartbeat, if he’d asked? If he’d known Jimin was planning to run away, he would have followed. No question, no hesitation, he would have packed a bag and met him at the bus station. He’d have stolen his dad’s drinking money and whatever was left of his mom’s jewellery and left behind everything he knew, just for the chance to be with Jimin. 

Jimin was the only thing that mattered in his life back then, anyway. 

And he still left him behind. 

Why would Jimin count him in with the others? Couldn’t he see…

His headache is piercing, now, a horrible persistent throbbing of his skull. 

Maybe Jungkook just wasn’t that special to him. Jimin was Jungkook’s everything, but maybe all Jungkook was to him was a friend. You can love your friends, and still leave them, just like you can love your son, and still leave him. 

It was me, his voice comes back to Jungkook. I asked him out. 

But he seemed happy, to have Jungkook back. He seemed genuinely emotional, that first time they saw each other. He slipped right back into taking care of him, like a day hadn’t gone by. Same soft voice, same gentle touch.

So Jungkook does matter to him, maybe, just not enough to stay. Not enough to ask. 

The first box is empty, so he puts it aside and moves to the second. Hunching down to get to it makes his head swim, and he has to take a minute for it to subside. 

The only sound in the store is the quiet buzzing of the fridges, that ever-present hum, until a rowdy group of boys come in. 

They look a few years younger than Jungkook at most. He recognises their type—their high school was full of kids like that, huddling together in loud gangs and making an enemy out of everyone that looked at them a second too long. 

Jimin was particularly scared of them. Every time they would pass by a group like that, he’d change sidewalks, if he could. At school, he’d keep his head down and be quiet quiet quiet until they were out of sight. 

Jungkook immediately moves to the cash register. He keeps an eye on them through the little screens of the security camera, on edge. If he lets the store get robbed, he’s not sure the boss wouldn’t make good on his promises and actually beat him up. 

They’re shady, but they don’t touch anything. They stay huddled in their group of four, not splitting up like they might if they wanted to steal something. That’s what the boss said, at least—look out for when they split. 

In the end, they buy one bag of chips and a six-pack of beers, and leave without causing any trouble. 

Jungkook goes back to his shelfing, but that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop lingers, uncomfortable and familiar, for the rest of the night. 

The imprints of the exhausting neon lights are permanent by now. He can’t close his eyes without seeing them flash behind his eyelids. 

It’s not so bad when he’s got the day shift, but out of nowhere, he got switched to the night shift. No warning, no nothing, just a call when Jungkook was preparing for dinner on his day off and a pissed off voice growling in his ear, you have one hour to come in. 

At night, the lights give him a headache. It settled in on Tuesday and hasn’t gone away no matter how many hours he sleeps. 

He’d tell Jimin, if he was here, because Jimin would notice. He’d notice the way Jungkook winces, the way he grits his teeth. He’d notice the shift change at all. His boss had said, cancel your plans for the rest of the week, you’re working nights until the end of the month. 

Jungkook nodded, but there were no plans to cancel, anyway. 

Oh, there was one. 

coming to dinner tomorrow? I need to know how many I’m cooking for! 

The text has been sitting unanswered in his phone for almost a full day. 

He doesn’t know if he should go.

He could, if he wanted. If the boss keeps to his word, today’s the last night shift. End of the month. So, in theory, he could go home, catch up on some sleep, and wake up just in time to make it to dinner. 

But he’s tired. The only words he’s spoken all week have been welcome, would you like a bag and thank you. The headache would still be going strong, too. He definitely wouldn’t make the best company. It’d be worse than usual, probably, somber and grumpy instead of just quiet. They’d be able to feel his bad energy hanging over the room like a dark cloud. They’d know. 

Jimin’s not there today to help out, either. 

He hasn’t heard from him since him and Taehyung left for their vacation. He’s posted a couple stories on instagram, beaches and fancy dinners. Jungkook didn’t press the little heart on purpose, reveling in the petty satisfaction for a second. 

So it’d be weird, to be there without Jimin. He might have been accepted into their group, but they’re Jimin’s friends. Surely, that means he can’t just just go there alone. 

He should tell Seokjin he’s not going, right? It’s only polite. How to phrase it… 

The little bell dings, and a familiar group of boys enters the store. Jungkook slips the phone into his pocket, immediately on alert. 

They’ve been hanging around. They’d come three times now, always the four of them, always with their hoods and caps on. Like that first time, they always look around the aisles, loiter loudly for a while, and leave with some beer. 

Always the same. Why do they bother to look for anything else if they always buy the same thing? 

“Hey, sorry!” one of the guys says, waving Jungkook over. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever addressed him. They’ve never actually spoken to him before. 

“I want to ask you something.” 

They know this store better than Jungkook does, at this point, what would they have to ask? 

Still, there’s no way to notify his boss without alerting them. He walks away from the register, all the way to the end of the aisle. 

“Yes?” 

One of them is by the pre-packaged meals. His buddy is right next to him, while the other two are one aisle over. “This is expired.” 

Jungkook frowns. “Is it?” 

“Yeah, see for yourself.” 

Jungkook does not want to turn his back on them. “I don’t think so. These came in just last week.”

“What, you’re calling me a liar ?” The guy puffs up his chest. “I said, see for yourself!”  

There’s movement at the corner of his eye, and sure enough, the other two guys have rushed towards the register. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Hey, stop that right now—” He makes to rush towards them, but a hand grabs him roughly by the shoulder and presses him to the shelves, packages tumbling down, and then everything moves lightning fast. 

One of the guys keeps him pressed there with his forearm to Jungkook’s throat as his buddies open the register and take everything inside. He tries to fight back, even if he's trembling inside—he tries. He kicks back at him and catches him off guard, lands a couple punches, but then the other one descends on him and he’s got no chance.  

One holds him down while the other kicks and punches, enough to immobilise him and then some. He tries to protect his head, scrunch up so they don’t get his ribs, too, but he’s too slow. 

“Get his phone and wallet too, there’s not enough in here!” one of the guys says. It sounds like he’s by the door. Fuck, Jungkook’s boss is going to kill him. 

The guy shoves Jungkook harshly to the ground and grabs his phone and wallet from his back pockets. He presses his foot on Jungkook’s back until he can hardly breathe, until Jungkook can't move anymore. 

They run off, leaving him there, wheezing.

Fuck, everything hurts. 

He remembers, spottily, getting up and dragging himself over to the back room, struggling to keep himself upright for long enough to use to shitty old landline attached to the wall.  

He remembers dialing the only number he knows by heart, forehead pressed against the dirty, humid, cold stone. 

He remembers Jimin's voice going from suspicious (unknown number, see) to panicked to deadly calm, getting the basic information from him, and telling him don't worry about a thing, Kook, okay? 

Jungkook trusts him, so he closes his eyes and slides down the wall, and everything goes black. 

When he comes to, his head is heavy as lead. He opens his eyes with incredible difficulty. He’s at home. He doesn’t really remember how he got there, but if he’s home, it must be okay. 

He slowly comes back to and realises Yoongi’s here, arms crossed in his chair next to Jungkook's bed. 

He’s exhausted, so he sinks down into the bed again, turning his face into the pillow, but it doesn’t last. His blanket is yanked away from him, and Yoongi says, “Rise and shine, Jungkook-ah.” 

He groans. "What the fuck, hyung."  

"Get up," he says, his voice groggy. "Dinner time."

"I can’t make it to dinner." That wakes him enough to realise that his stomach hurts. "Oh. I didn’t tell you guys."

Yoongi looks at him assessingly. "That ship has sailed, now. Do you remember going to the hospital?" 

It's all very vague, but if he concentrates, there's flashes from last night that come back to him. "Kind of." 

Yoongi takes off his slippers in front of Jungkook, leans down and slips an arm around Jungkook's waist, to help him sit up and stand. 

"Hyung, that's a bit much. I can—"  He goes to pull away, but when he tries to stand on his own two feet, his knees buckle. Yoongi's there to catch him. 

"A bit much," he repeats, and it would have been sarcastic if not for the exhausted tone. He waits for Jungkook to slip his feet into the slippers. It takes him longer than it should.

Yoongi helps him to the table. He brings him a robe that is definitely not Jungkook’s, and helps him slip it on. Jungkook ties it around his waist gratefully, cold. 

He’s so embarrassed. Yoongi looks like he hasn’t slept at all, all to baby Jungkook. 

Yoongi serves him a small portion, and at Jungkook's betrayed look he crosses his arms. "You can’t stuff yourself, you’ll fuck your stomach up. Start on that and we'll see."  

Jungkook grumbles something, but if he’s learned anything about Yoongi in this short time, it’s that he’s never wrong.  He does as he's told as Yoongi busies himself making some tea.  

Jungkook's full halfway through the small serving, and he pushes the rest away. 

"Does it hurt?" Yoongi says, gesturing to Jungkook's face. 

He hasn't looked at himself yet, but he assumes there must be bruising. His right cheekbone feels a bit sensitive. He brings a hand to it and winces. 

Yoongi bites his lip, looking serious. "Where else?" 

"Stomach, I think."  

He feels up his ribs to check for any excruciating pain, but it just feels tender. He lifts his shirt gingerly, and there's a big bruise covering his left side. 

"Okay," Yoongi nods. 

"There were four of them," Jungkook says, dazedly. "I mean, two beat me up, but there were four in total. They’ve been scouting the store, I think." He shakes his head, but it hurts, so he stops. “I should have told my boss. Fuck, was he mad?” 

“Why does that matter? You got hurt because he left you alone in the middle of the night.” 

“It was just the night shift,” Jungkook mutters. “He couldn’t have known.” 

“Well, apparently, he was mad. He fired you. As Namjoon was loading you into his car, scared fucking shitless, this guy started yelling about his money.” 

“Of course he did.” Shit, so he doesn’t have a job. What is he going to do? He needed it. It was shitty and exhausting, but he needed that money. Cold panic grips him. “Fuck.”  

Yoongi takes a big breath through the nose, lets it out slowly. 

"Why did you call Jimin?" Yoongi asks. “Why not the police?”  

Jungkook flushes. “It didn’t cross my mind. I couldn’t really—I didn’t really think at all. I just knew his number, so I called.” 

"He couldn’t do anything from all the way across the country, Jungkook.” He huffs. “Well. He did call Joon. He lives the closest to you. He jumped out of bed to come. You were in pretty grim shape when he found you."  

Jungkook bites on the inside of his cheek. He thinks about reaching out to hold Yoongi's hand. That’s weird. It’d be weird. He doesn’t really understand why Yoongi’s here at all. He twists his own fingers together instead. "I'm fine now, though." 

Yoongi looks up at him. His eyes linger on Jungkook's bruises.

"Are you feeling okay to take a shower?"

Jungkook nods. "Yeah, I think." 

"Is it not a bit much?" Yoongi asks, and now there’s that sarcastic tone. 

Jungkook sticks his tongue out at him and Yoongi smiles. 

"Go on, then," he says, and waits, watching. 

"I’m not a baby,” Jungkook complains. He shouldn’t be taking up Yoongi’s time like this. He gets up, stretches a bit, and walks to the bathroom door without incident. He turns around, opens his arms and says, “Ta da.”

Yoongi snorts. “Great job, kid.” 

Jungkook nods, closing the door behind him. 

“There’s a shift change right now, just so you know,” Yoongi yells from the kitchen.

“Alright,” Jungkook responds. He’s about to ask what that means, exactly, when he catches sight of himself in the mirror and winces. 

Yeah, ouch. The area around his right cheekbone is bruising unevenly, and now that he’s seen it, he feels it more. 

“Great,” he mumbles. There’s scratches too, above his jaw, like someone grabbed at it and pushed hard until their nails left marks. He doesn’t remember that, but the evidence is there. 

He turns the water scalding, and it smarts on some of the new scratches. He feels over the hurt areas, but the bruising is the worst of it. 

He scrubs himself as hard as his pained ribs will let him, but he still doesn’t feel clean. 

He hears the front door open and close, the rumble of voices from the other room. 

“Yah, are you dead in there?” comes Seokjin’s voice.

He grabs the robe Yoongi gave him, and smells like the detergent Seokjin uses. Looking at it a bit closer, this is definitely Seokjin’s robe. Maybe the pink should have given it away. 

He opens, and there he is, the man himself, putting a massive bag of groceries on Jungkook’s counter, and next to it, a twelve pack of banana milk. 

And that, on top of everything else, does it. 

“Yoongi said you went in there half an hour and–” He sees the tears streaming down Jungkook’s cheeks, the way he’s sniffling and turning away. 

Jungkook is so fucking embarrassed. He doesn’t know why that did it, it’s a stupid drink, for God’s sake, but it’s just…he’d mentioned it to Seokjin, the very first time they’d seen each other, how it used be his favourite when he was a kid, and how he can never afford it anymore. 

Seokjin had remembered.

Yoongi had watched over him, taken off his slippers so Jungkook’s feet wouldn’t get cold, and Namjoon had jumped out of bed to come get him, and it’s all just—

A lot. 

He hears a light chuckle and then he’s being turned around, pulled into a loose hug. He tries to get himself to calm down, forehead pressed into Seokjin’s chest. 

It takes a while.

“You missed me that much?” Seokjin says, ruffling his hair. “Didn’t know you loved me that much, Jungkook-ah. I always thought Jimin was your favourite, but clearly I’ve finally surpassed him.” 

Jungkook pulls away with a wet chuckle, wiping at his eyes. “Clearly.”

Yoongi comes back in, carrying one more bag and Jungkook turns to him to avoid Seokjin’s eyes, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “You’ve got the next shift then?”

“Did he call it shifts?” Seokjin squeaks, turning to Yoongi, hands on his hips. “Caring for our sweet hurt dongsaeng isn’t a job, Yoongi-yah, it’s a privilege and a pleasure!”

Yoongi nods sagely in response, putting the bag down on the counter and reaching for his phone in his back pocket. “I can show him the texts and confirm who introduced the term.”

Seokjin swiftly plucks the phone out of Yoongi’s hands. “No need for such pettiness, as long as we learn from our mistakes." 

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Can I have that back? I have to get home.’’ 

Seokjin puts it in the inner pocket of Yoongi’s leather jacket himself, giving his chest a pat when he’s done. He walks Yoongi to the door. “Ready to go."

“Am I?” Yoongi says. 

Seokjin flushes, and Jungkook is intrigued from where he’s gone to investigate the banana milk. He pretends to be very absorbed in his task, but from the corner of his eye he sees Seokjin, red in the face. 

Yoongi waits silently, arms crossed. 

Seokjin seems to think about it, moving his weight from one foot to the other, and then leans in quickly and gives Yoongi a kiss. 

Yoongi huffs a laugh, pleased. “I meant the car keys,” he says, smirking. 

Seokjin seems to be fuming with embarrassment as he fishes the keys out of his jeans and hands them over. 

Jungkook is fucking delighted. “Wow,” he mouths down at his banana milk. 

“Ready to go,” Yoongi says. “Bye, Jungkook-ah. Don’t drink all of that at once.”

Jungkook waves back, a carton in each hand. “See you, hyung.”

Seokjin closes the door. “Not a word.”

Jungkook blinks innocently back at him. “About what?”

Seokjin squints at him. He points at the milk in Jungkook’s hand. “You can have half of that.”

Seokjin leaves him with detailed reheating instructions for leftovers and the passwords to all the streaming sites he’s subscribed to, so Jungkook spends the weekend using them to fry his brain. 

He still feels like he doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t really have a way to contact them, mugged phone and all. Plus, they’ve done more than enough already. How could he ask more of them? That would be ungrateful, greedy. 

He’s trying to decide which of the last of Seokjin’s leftovers he’s going to have for dinner when there’s an insistent knock at the door. 

Pulse rabbiting, Jungkook checks the peep hole. 

“Hyung?” he says, confused, as he swings the door open.

Jimin rushes into the apartment, a cloud of worry following in his steps. His frown deepens impossibly when he sees the bruise on Jungkook's face. "Oh."

He reaches out a hand and stops just before he touches Jungkook's skin. 

Jungkook tries to joke. "You like it? I think it brings out my eyes."  

Jimin looks at him, upset. "Does it hurt?"

Yes. "Not really." 

"How do you feel?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Fine. I was a bit weak when I woke up the day after, but it's okay now."

"Other than your face, did they–"

Jungkook shakes his head, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He doesn’t want to talk about this. "How was your trip?" 

Jimin huffs. "Started out okay, but after...I just—I couldn't enjoy it anymore." 

"I'm sorry," Jungkook mutters. 

"It's not your fault," Jimin says, helplessly. "I wanted to leave early, but Tae said—well." He shrugs. "We ended up sticking it out."

"Didn't hyung tell you it wasn't that serious?" 

Jimin sends him a look that stabs. "Jungkook. You were assaulted. Of course it was serious." 

"I mean, I wasn't at the hospital or anything—they sent me home!" 

Jimin shakes his head. "Please stop talking or I'm going to start yelling." 

"I'm fine," he repeats the same thing he's told every single one of his hyungs. It’s not the first time he takes a beating, anyway, and no one ever made that much of a big deal out of it before. 

Jungkook takes a real look at Jimin. "Have you been sleeping?" 

"What is this, opposite day?" 

"Don't try to change the subject." 

"How could I sleep?" 

"Easy, you just go to bed, you close your eyes—" 

"You were attacked and robbed while I was halfway across the country and couldn't even call you," he says, cutting. "How the fuck could I relax?" 

Jungkook shuts up, shaken. Jimin's voice is stable, but his fists are tight at his sides.

Jungkook blinks. "I–um. I don't–" 

Jimin deflates then, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.” He pushes his hair away from his face, only for it to fall back down immediately. He sighs. 

When he opens his eyes, he looks even more tired. 

"You want to watch a movie?"

"I don't have a tv," Jungkook says, feeling absurd. 

"I brought my laptop." Jimin takes it out of the bag. He hands it to Jungkook. "Get in bed. I'll make us some tea, okay?"

Jungkook takes it, hugging it to his chest. He nods, and does as he's told. 

They're sitting with their backs to the wall, sharing the one pillow to lean against. Jungkook’s feeling wired and Jimin isn’t faring much better. He squirms against the wall again and again.

There’s an itch under Jungkook’s skin, begging him to reach out, and he can only resist it for so long. He’s spent days alone, hurting, jumping at every noise and avoiding sleep in fear he’d dream about it—he didn’t realise how tired he was, how close to the end of his rope, until the moment he had Jimin within reach. 

He puts his hand on Jimin’s thigh, and Jimin instantly turns to look at him. 

He doesn’t know how to ask. He just wants to close his eyes and open them again to the moment Jimin’s already nestled in his arms. 

“Hyung, can I…” 

That’s as far as he gets before Jimin breaks into a smile. “Cuddle time?” 

He grabs Jungkook’s arm and slings it over his own shoulders, thumb running over his knuckles. 

Jungkook’s not satisfied yet. “Just…” He slips lower, holding onto Jimin’s waist and pulling him closer until he’s tucked against his side. 

Jimin’s smile widens. “What’s this, hm? You miss me or something?” 

Yes. "Just don't squirm anymore, okay?" 

"I'm sorry, am I distracting you from your foot jiggling? I didn't realise this was such a stressful movie to you," Jimin teases back. Despite his smile he still sounds exhausted, just like Jungkook. 

"I'm very invested.” He doesn't give a fuck about this movie. He stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing on Jimin, the weight of him, the way he blinked, slow and tired, eyes on the screen. 

"I'm sure.” He tries to settle against Jungkook more comfortably, but he accidentally elbows Jungkook directly on the bruise in his stomach. 

He hisses, and Jimin jumps. "What?" 

Jimin sees how Jungkook's free hand has flown to the bruise, and is already pulling the shirt up before Jungkook can protest.  

"Nothing, it's—" 

He raises his eyes to Jungkook's scared ones. His look is steel. 

"Anywhere else?"

"No.”

"Jungkook." 

"I mean it," he says. "I'm not hurt anywhere else."

Jimin's look softens a bit. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have been more careful."

"I kind of forgot," Jungkook mumbles. "It really doesn't hurt unless—"

"Unless a big oaf elbows you directly on it?"

Jungkook laughs. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "I'll..." he goes to move away, but Jungkook holds him in place. He's not ready to let him go yet. 

"No, it's—let's stay like that for a bit." 

Jimin looks at him. Jungkook looks away. 

The movie's still playing, but neither of them are paying attention anymore–they’re not even pretending to, just sinking into each other. 

Jungkook wonders how long Jimin’s going to stay. Wonders if his boyfriend knows where he went, knows he’s spending the night in Jungkook’s arms.  

A hand comes to Jungkook's chin. Jimin turns him gently towards him, his eyes lingering on the bruise. 

Jungkook looks back hungrily. He desperately wishes this touch was happening differently.  

As it is, Jimin sighs sadly at the ugly splash of colour on Jungkook’s face. He runs a thumb right under it so gently, as if it could erase it. 

"Who would hurt you like this," he mumbles, talking more to himself than to Jungkook. 

Jungkook isn't breathing, isn't moving. 

Their faces are really close. Jungkook can feel Jimin’s breath on his cheek. Does he know Jungkook's had dreams that start like this? 

Of course he doesn't. Jimin's with someone else. Jimin doesn't know what Jungkook feels, and it's for the best. 

Jungkook brings his own hand up and engulfs Jimin's, holding still for one second more. He brings them down over his lap.

"It's not as bad it looks, hyung.” He tries to let go, but Jimin intertwines their fingers. 

"Nothing like this should ever happen to you.” He sounds so serious, so sad. 

Jungkook doesn't know what to do to alleviate the incredible guilt hanging over Jimin, to calm his worry. He’s not good at comforting—he never learned how. 

The only reference he has for it is Jimin, so he does the only thing he can think of.

Jimin blinks in surprise when Jungkook brings their joined hands up for a little experimental poke, and then his face splits open into the most beautiful smile Jungkook's ever seen. 

Jungkook's in love. In love, in love, in love, he hurts with it, he burns with it. 

Jimin turns back to the screen, smiling gently, content. 

Soon he’s asleep, head lolling against Jungkook's shoulder. Carefully, so carefully, Jungkook settles him in the bed. He pulls the blankets up over his shoulders, and Jimin sighs softly in his sleep. 

He grabs the laptop from the foot of the bed. When he closes the movie window, the background is the only light in the dark room. A picture of Taehyung and Jimin, cheeks pressed together, smiling. 

He feels it like a punch. 

He turns it off, puts it on the kitchen table next to Jimin's bag. Jimin’s phone buzzes, and he sneaks a look. 

2 messages - Tae ❤️ 

when are you coming home? 

i want to continue our conversation

Jungkook turns the screen down onto the table, heart aching.

He takes a look at Jimin, sleeping soundly in his bed. How much longer can he carry this alone? 

Something’s got to give. 

He tries for every store with a help wanted sign on the glass, but they all turn him away when they see the bruise still lingering under his eye. 

Eventually, when it fully fades, Namjoon lets him know about a restaurant in the neighbourhood. It’s a little noodle shop a couple streets away from his apartment. 

“I go there all the time,” he assures Jungkook. “It’s small and cosy, and the couple that owns it are good people. Their son used to work there, but he’s off to university now, so they’re asking all the regulars if they know someone of confidence to take over.” 

Namjoon smiles at him, and Jungkook wants to be a person of confidence, too. 

He goes, he talks to them, he tries out for a week, and then he’s hired. 

He might be uneasy about the nocturnal nature of it, but it's out of the way and sleepy. It's mostly frequented by older people who seem to love Jungkook on sight. And Namjoon’s right, the couple who own it are lovely. They always send Jungkook home with leftover food, warm and delicious. 

The pay’s hardly anything, just about the same as he was making at the convenience store, but it’s fine, when his belly is full of warm food and his bosses smile at him when they bid him goodnight. 

One night, a rowdy group enters. Jungkook tenses immediately, but when he turns to his boss, he smiles and shakes his head fondly. “College kids, Jungkook-ah,” he says. “I’m sure my boy is doing the same, being a hassle on some other poor old man’s ramen shop.” 

The group is loud with laughter and they’re definitely dressed for a night out. They tumble into a booth and reach for the plastic menus like they hold the secrets of the universe.

Jungkook watches them with a pang in his chest. In another life, would that be him, too? In a life where his folks cared enough to send him to school, would he have found himself a group like this, too? Would he have felt safe enough in this city to get drunk outside, trusting his friends to get him through? Would his biggest problem be having a hangover in class on Monday morning? 

Eventually, one of them approaches to order. He's tall, and handsome, and well past the point of tipsy, reading the beat up laminated menu with an intense frown of concentration. 

“Can I take your order?” Jungkook asks after a while, amused. 

The guy refocuses his drunk eyes on Jungkook, and they widen a bit. He sits up, visibly collects himself, and then starts flirting, way too competently for someone this far from sobriety. 

Jungkook blushes and fumbles a little. He’s never flirted with someone this good looking—he’s barely done any flirting at all. 

Thankfully, the guy, Seojun seems to find him cute in all his fluster. “Call me, okay?” He says with a wink as he slides Jungkook his number. 

He thinks about it all the way home, the little piece of paper tucked into the case of his brand new—second hand—phone. 

He thinks of Jimin and Taehyung coming into the room holding hands, Yoongi and Seokjin sneaking that kiss. 

They've all got someone. What does Jungkook have, other than a single pillow and a heart filled with someone who doesn’t want him back?  

So yeah, maybe it's time to move on. 

He texts Seojun and they go out. Once, twice. 

Both times, it goes well. Both times, he walks Jungkook home and Jungkook dodges the kiss, ducking away before he can get too close, and walks up the stairs to his apartment wishing he'd given him more of a chance. 

He doesn’t tell anyone about it, but they find out quickly anyway. 

They’re at the shop, all of them, because they decided to come and keep Jungkook company, all of a sudden. Jungkook thinks it has a lot to do with Jimin, trying to sneakily get Jungkook used to this new job quicker. 

He can’t deny it’s working—it’s good to see them all there. All but one, really. 

Taehyung asks to make his dish not at all spicy, and even though it’s not an outrageous request, it makes Jungkook grit his teeth. 

“The cook doesn’t accept that kind of thing."

Taehyung is visibly annoyed by this information. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it promptly. He looks back down on the menu and mutters something about needing more time, then. 

“In the mean time, Jungkook-ah, I wanted to ask about the cold soups.” Seokjin looks at him over the menu, eyes glinting.  “Which is the most extraordinary one, in your opinion?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Well, if you want a whole new lease on life, hyung—” 

Somebody sidles up to him, interrupting with a smooth voiced, "Hey, gorgeous." 

Jungkook turns. Shit, what is he doing here? “Hey,” Jungkook says, pulse spiking. Should he usher him away? Are they all looking? "I'll be with you in a second." 

"I'm not staying," Seojun says. "Just came to make sure we're on for this weekend." He smiles. God, he’s handsome.   

"We are," Jungkook mumbles, eyes darting to his friends too quick to actually gauge any reactions. He needs to chill. He moves Seojun a few steps away, conscious of their eyes on them. "Movie, right?"

"Buying you dinner, first." 

"Right," Jungkook says with a panicked nod. "We're on. I'll see you then." 

"See you then," his date says, kissing him on the cheek and disappearing with a wink. 

Jungkook gives a big exhale. He can't believe he got through all that without blushing to death. 

When he returns to the table, he's ready to pretend that never happened, but things can't ever be that simple.

“Who was that?”

Fuck. 

He turns to Jimin to answer his question. Without interrogating himself over it, he blurts,

“Someone I'm seeing.” 

Jimin looks shocked, and it pisses Jungkook off. What, he can't be seeing someone?

“That's—since when? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jungkook shrugs. He tries to look back to Seokjin so he can finish the order, but Jimin pipes up again. 

“Do you like him?”

“He's nice.”

“And?”

“And handsome.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says, and the frustration in his voice gets Jungkook frowning. “It's like pulling teeth! Tell me more about him.” 

That’s the last thing he wants. The last thing in the world, to sit here, in front of the inquisitive eyes of all his friends, and tell the boy he’s in love with lies about some guy he’s dating right now. 

He wants to scream, a little. He’s clicking his pen again and again. “Why?” 

Jimin blinks. “What do you mean why? Don't you want to—I mean. When you like someone, usually they're all you want to talk about.”

“Me?” 

Jimin looks back at him, considering. Jungkook can practically see him run through their time together, coming up zero on shared crushes. “Well,” he says, clearly caught off guard.  His eyes dart around, a little panicked, maybe realising he’s the only one talking. “I'm here if you want to. I'd love to hear all about him. We all would," he adds as an afterthought, even though the others haven’t said a word this whole time. "Right?" he says, turning to Hoseok directly like he's waiting for the validation. 

"Sure thing!" Hoseok says, a little confused but with a reassuring smile. “Anytime.” 

Everyone around the table gives a small round of agreement, except for Taehyung, who’s got his eyes fixed on Jungkook.

The next day, he gets a call from Jimin.

It's weird. Weird, because they mostly keep to texts, since Jungkook spends a lot of his day at work and the rest of it in a building with paper thin walls that he’s paranoid about. 

It’s a lucky thing he even heard it on vibrate. 

Jimin doesn’t even say hello. “Can I come over?” 

Huh? “Everything okay?” 

“Sure. Can I come over?”

“We just saw each other yesterday.” 

Jimin laughs. “So?” 

So, what’s gotten into him? Once per week has been their record for the past several months. “Don’t you have plans tonight?” 

A small pause, and then, “Do you? Is that what this is about?” 

“This isn’t about anything, it’s just…” Should he say it? “I thought on a Friday night you’d have plans with your boyfriend.” 

“Well, I don’t.” 

Oh, there’s ice in his tone. 

“Okay.” 

“So,” he insists, “can I come over?” 

Jungkook doesn’t know why it grates at him so badly, but he can’t help himself. Maybe it’s the feeling of Taehyung’s heavy gaze on him from the other night, the guilt that’s hung over him since. “Is he okay with it?” He swallows down the knot that’s formed right at his throat. “How often you come. To sleep over.” 

“Of course he is.” His tone is defensive, cutting in a way that tells Jungkook this isn’t quite the end of that. “He knows you’re my best friend.” 

“Right.” He inhales. “You’re friends with Yoongi-hyung, too. Do you hang out with him like this?” 

“No,” Jimin says immediately. “Like I said, you’re my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were babies. It’s different.” 

“And Taehyung doesn’t mind.” 

“I already told you he doesn’t.” He sounds annoyed now. “Are you listening to me?” 

“I am.” 

“If you’re too busy to hang out, Jungkook, just say it. What is it, do you have a date?” 

What are they doing right now? What the hell is this juvenile fight? “And what if I do?” 

“Then have fun.” 

“I will.” 

“Great.”

“Great.” 

“Bye, then.” He doesn’t wait for a response from Jungkook, just hangs up in his face.

Jungkook’s left fuming, feeling like a goddamn teenager. What the hell was that? 

He ends up going to Seokjin’s to play video games. They’ve been hanging out a lot more lately, since the banana milk incident. It just left some kind of mark in Jungkook, some kind of bond that says, hey, we’re something now. 

Sometime during the night, Seokjin asks him, “Have you talked to Jimin lately?” 

“Talked to him today.” 

“And how was it?” 

Jungkook squirms. “What does that mean?” 

“Means, was he okay?” 

“I guess he seemed…tense.” 

“Yeah. He hasn’t told you why?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Not really.” 

“I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while, either. Me and Jiminie get lunch at least once a week, and Taehyung often tags along. But after their trip, nada. No sign of life. The only time I saw him was at the noodle shop.” 

“I’m sure he’s just busy. He’s got a real hectic schedule, apparently.” 

“He had time before.” 

Jungkook’s traitorous little heart perks up at that. 

“Mm.” 

“You don’t think that’s interesting?” 

“I think it’s nothing to do with me.” 

Seokjin gives him a look. He knows Seokjin knows more than he lets on. He knows he could continue the conversation right now and have Jungkook spilling his shameful truth all over the living room carpet. 

Jungkook isn’t in a sharing mood. 

He grabs the controller again. “Another round?” 

Radio silence from Jimin for three days. It leaves him unsettled and annoyed, and he cleans his apartment from corner to corner to expel the restlessness, but no dice. 

Every time his phone lights up with a notification, his stomach swoops, only to be disappointed when it’s not him. 

It’s mostly Seojun, trying to keep up their conversation until their next date. It’s rapidly approaching, and Jungkook’s not against it, but his mind is somewhere else. 

Always that same somewhere. 

Jungkook’s frowning at the meager contents of his closet, trying to decide what he’s wearing for this date. 

Getting dressed is always difficult. If it were up to him, he’d be in dark sweats and a t-shirt, but Seojun had come to their previous ones so done up that Jungkook felt the need to show up for him too. 

He can’t be too fancy, because that’s just not him. He doesn’t even know how to do that, really. Maybe just some jeans and a t-shirt, a newer one. Surely that’s appropriate, right?

A harsh knock at the door shakes him out of his thoughts. 

Shit, is Seojun early? Jungkook’s so far from being ready.

He opens the door, an apology already on his lips and freezes when he sees who’s on the other side. 

Jimin's crying. He just stands there, shoulders slumped, eyes puffy. 

"Hyung? What–"

"We broke up," Jimin says, voice shaking. 

"You…” 

“We broke up,” he repeats, softer, more hurt. He’s looking at Jungkook like he’s waiting for him take the lead, like he used all his power to walk here and now there’s nothing left. 

Jungkook pulls him in, tucks him into his arms. 

Jimin brings his arms around Jungkook's waist and clings hard and desperate, like he wants to disappear into Jungkook. 

How could they have broken up? Last time he saw them, they were holding hands under the table, whispering at each other all the time, constantly off in their own little world. That was last week, how could that have changed so quickly?  

Jungkook figured they'd had a fight, maybe. That would explain why Jimin had gotten all defensive on the phone, had Friday night free. But a break-up?

Jimin cries for god knows how long, first in Jungkook's arms and then curled tight in Jungkook's bed. 

Jungkook feels absolutely fucking useless. The hurt little sounds Jimin’s making are cracking his heart right open, and he holds and holds him. 

Eventually, Jimin’s tears subside down to small sniffles. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s too weak to sit up straight. He brings his hands to his face, hides it, exhales. 

"Better?" 

Jimin shakes his head.

"Right," Jungkook mumbles, frowning. "Stupid question." 

"Very," Jimin croaks out. Jungkook shifts to get him some water, but Jimin reaches out a hand and grabs his pant leg. "Don't," he says, small. 

"Water," Jungkook explains, but he puts the glass back down and shifts closer, intentions forgotten. 

"Later," Jimin says. "Can you just…" Jimin trails off, shrugs. 

He pulls on Jungkook's shirt until Jungkook settles where he wants him, back to the wall and Jimin between his legs, back to his chest again. Jungkook's hands slide over Jimin's stomach, his chin on his shoulder. He holds him tight, feels him take a shuddery breath as he sinks into him, boneless. Tears keep falling, but it's not the desperate outburst of before anymore. They're quiet now, inevitable. 

"He said…” he starts, and then has to stop and clear his throat, “that it was over for us. That he feels like we ran our course, and we're better off as friends."

Jungkook has no idea what to say, again, but it doesn’t matter, because Jimin just goes on. 

"He said," Jimin's voice trembles, "he'll always love me, but not like that, anymore. And he thought it was the same for me. He was–he was so convinced we were on the same page." He starts crying again. "He just said ‘Let's finally do this, right, Jimin-ah?’ and I just had no idea what he was talking about."

Jungkook's heart cracks and cracks. "Oh, hyung."

"He was smiling the whole time, he held my fucking hand.” It pours out of him, the desperate sadness, raw and new and cutting. “I didn't even know what to say, I just...I asked where this is coming from and he just looked at me, like we both know, like it's obvious, and I was lost, I was so fucking lost, Jungkook-ah.” He takes a shuddering, halting breath. "I still don't know what he meant, he just...he said it hasn't been the same between us for a while, and it's not...he's not in love anymore, and he knows I'm not either."

"Are you?” Jungkook asks, before he can stop himself.

"I love him,” Jimin says. 

That wasn't the question, Jungkook wants to say, but he holds back, this time. 

"He took all his stuff on the way out. He kissed my forehead before he left. What the fuck," he says, voice trembling. He wipes his eyes with force. "What the fuck."

"Yeah," Jungkook mumbles. 

"Did you–" Jimin shifts, turns to face him a little. His eyes are red and puffy, his hair's sticking to his eyelashes. 

Jungkook reaches out and brushes them away. "Did I what?"

"Did you notice," Jimin asks, hushed. "Did you notice something different?" His eyes are eager, desperate for something, some kind of answer to clear it up. 

"No," Jungkook says, and it's the truth. "I thought you were both in love."

He doesn't add his own feelings on the subject, because now is not the time. It may never be the time. 

Jimin takes that in, bites his lip. He looks so sad still, so helpless. Like he's waiting for someone to come and tell him that it's a joke.

"I don't understand," he mumbles, closing his eyes. 

His brow is furrowed and Jungkook's overrun by the urge to comfort, so he doesn't think about it when he leans in and kisses him there. “I know.” He pulls away before he does any more. “Can I please get you some water?”

Jimin nods, mouth slightly open, eyes tight. Jungkook nods and does just that, taking a few precious seconds while he's filling up the glass to breathe without Jimin so close scrambling his head.

They really broke up. 

Seokjin-hyung was right. He’d seen it coming, and Jungkook hadn’t dared believe him. 

He wished for this. God, he’s unforgivable. 

Jimin's hurting, and Jungkook's hurting for him. He needs to just be there, just be a friend, a comfort and a safe somewhere.

He can take his own feelings, that horrible, detestable little part of himself that’s rejoicing at these news, and shove them way down deep. Jimin doesn’t deserve that. 

He brings it back and Jimin gulps half of it down gratefully, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He hands it back to Jungkook with a quiet you, too that has Jungkook's heart trembling. 

“Ugh, fuck,” he says, rubbing his face. “I feel like death warmed over." 

He slowly sinks down into the pillow and stares at the ceiling. “It really came out of nowhere, Jungkook-ah.” 

Jungkook lies down next to him, his arm beneath his head for support. “You didn't know he felt like this?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I've been seeing him less lately, but I thought it was just a phase, you know? Life gets stressful sometimes…I just figured he'd come back to me,” he says, swallowing hard. "Sounds so fucking stupid."  

“You don't,” Jungkook says. He's trying to keep from reaching out again. He's trying to keep up with Jimin's pace. He doesn't want to overwhelm him. "I'm sorry," he says, same low gentle tone. He sees Jimin shake his head from his periphery. 

"No use being sorry." 

"You don't..."  he trails off, and only when Jimin turns to look at him does he continue. “You won't try? To get him back?”

His heart trembles, trembles, balancing just barely on a tightrope, waiting for the gust of wind of Jimin’s answer to knock him over for good. 

Jimin turns back towards the ceiling, face impassive. “For what? He doesn't love me anymore." His voice is getting more solid every time he speaks. “He said it was a long time coming."  

“What did you say?”

“I mostly just tried to keep the fuck up,” Jimin sighs. "This was all new information to me."  

“So you won't.” 

“I won't,” he says, small small small. Jungkook’s not proud of the relief he feels at the words. 

There's silence, and Jungkook wonders if Jimin's crying silently again like before. He turns to look. He's not, but his mouth is tight and he's scowling. “I'm sorry I barged in like that." 

“Don't be stupid."  He brings his hand to Jimin's and runs his thumb over his knuckles gently. Jimin's fingers unfold, leaving space for Jungkook's.

They just fit. They always have, and they always will. 

“Distract me, hm? Talk to me about something else. How’s that guy you’re seeing?”

Jungkook stills. Of all the things to ask. 

“He’s fine.” He’s probably waiting for me at the movies as we speak. 

“You always get so cagey when I ask about him,” Jimin says with a frown. "You really don't want to tell me?" 

Jungkook sighs. "There's not even anything to say, hyung. He asked me out. I said yes. We've gone out a few times. He's nice." 

Jimin nods, and Jungkook thinks it's safe to let the subject drop. 

"I didn't even know you liked boys," Jimin mutters, and is that hurt in his voice? 

It can’t be. Why would it be? 

"We didn't exactly have the time to get to that," Jungkook mumbles back. 

“We’re the same,” Jimin mutters with a squeeze of their hands. 

Jungkook wishes they were. That the soft spot Jimin has for him was of a different kind, not just the soft indulgence of a best friend but the longing, the relentless pressure of another kind of love.

Jimin doesn’t meet his eyes. “You think you’ll stay with him for a long time?” 

It’s done already, probably. Doomed from the start. Wrong of him to even try, when his heart was hooked elsewhere already. 

“No.” 

It’s honest, it’s absolute. It’s simple, really. He can’t imagine himself being with someone else when he feels like this about Jimin.

“Jungkook-ah?”

His breath cuts at the way he says it, intense and solid.

“Yeah?”

He turns his head, chin on Jungkook's chest. He looks different, more awake than he has all night. 

Jungkook can almost imagine them like this in a different life. 

“Can we get drunk now?”

Jungkook exhales on something that sounds like a laugh. “Is that the next step in the official break up manual?” 

Jimin pinches him on the side weakly. “Shut up. I deal with my shitty life the way I see fit, okay?” 

“Sorry. I don't think I have alcohol, really? Not enough to get drunk, anyway."  

After last time, after he almost leaned in and kissed Jimin and was left with nothing but regret and a pulsing headache, the strongest thing he’s let cross his threshold is cheap beer. 

“What kind of youth are you,” Jimin grumbles. 

“The lame kind, clearly.” He pokes Jimin’s side. “Let me up. I'll go buy some." 

Jimin tries to sit up with him, but Jungkook pushes his shoulder back down. 

“I’ll go.  You stay here and take a shower."  

Jimin frowns. “Do you even know what to get?”

If there’s one thing Jungkook’s upbringing prepared him for, it’s hard alcohol shopping. “Whatever's biggest and strongest?” 

Jimin snorts, and it's the happiest he's been all evening. Jungkook smiles in response. 

“You got it,” Jimin says, shuffling off the bed and stretching. Jungkook wants to go to him again, hug him and press himself close, but it seems they're over this part of the night, and that's okay. Jimin needs to move on to getting smashed, so that's what they'll do.

“Towels are–”

Jimin waves him off. “I know where towels are.” 

He spills out into the street, pulling a mask on and zipping up his jacket. It’s cold and deserted outside. He has no idea what time it is, but if you told him it was deep in the am, he’d believe it. 

He turns the corner and there’s a few more people there, shady looking men in corners with cans of beer in their hands. Jungkook walks past them quickly, head ducked down. 

Jungkook shouldn't leave Jimin alone for too long. He plans to be gone and back in a flash, but his local corner mart doesn't sell shit strong enough, so he buys a few beers just to be polite and runs to the next one over.

He does as quickly as he can, but he's still gone for longer than he wants. 

Jimin will be fine. He's a whole adult. He's not suddenly incapable of being by himself just because he's got a broken heart. 

Still, Jungkook worries. He goes to check his phone out of sheer antsiness, but it's not on him. He doesn't remember picking it up, and he really hopes he just left it at home instead of losing it somewhere between booze runs. 

He runs back, the sensation of being cut off from Jimin if he needed something intensifying to a silly degree. 

“Hyung?” If he's a little breathless, he can claim it's the stairs.

Jimin's head pops up from where he's curled up in Jungkook's bed again, wearing Jungkook's clothes, big black hoodie and grey sweatpants.  “You got it?”

"Like, all of it,” Jungkook laughs a little, dropping it all on the table and moving to the bed. "Except for tequila, that one makes you sick. And I tried to look for that flavoured thing we had last time, remember, the one you liked? But I think it was at the store by Seokjin-hyung's place, and that one is a bit far–oh?” He sits on something hard as he puts his knee on the mattress. Confused, he fishes his phone out of the sheets. 

“Oh, good,” he says, dropping it back down on the floor where he always puts it, “I thought I lost it."  

Jimin looks at it all, surveying their spoils. “Let's start with vodka," he proclaims.   

“Yes, sir."  

And so they do.

It takes little to no time for Jungkook to get tipsy, even though he's going at half Jimin's speed. Jimin knows how to drink to get happy drunk and he knows how to drink to get shitfaced, and he's heading towards the latter fast. 

After he starts to need the wall behind him to sit upright, Jungkook pulls on Jimin’s sleeve and asks, “Should we get something to eat?” 

Jimin shoots him a look like he's dumb for even asking and stares him straight in the eyes as he downs another shot. 

Jungkook still needs at least a snack, so he tries to climb out of bed, crawling over Jimin's legs to get out. 

But he’s drunker than he thought, so he miscalculates his own ability to move right now and gets tripped up in the sheets, ready to faceplant onto the floor. He would have, if Jimin hadn't grabbed him, one hand clutching at the back of his shirt and another over his chest, holding him back. “Watch it,” he says, so close to Jungkook's ear it makes him shiver. “What do you think you're doing?” 

“Snack,” Jungkook mumbles. 

Jimin huffs a laugh. He pushes at Jungkook's chest trying to get him to lie back. “Sit down, Kook, hyung will get you a snack."  

This is unacceptable. He reaches to hold on to JImin's shirt, pulling for emphasis. "You can't!"

Jimin looks like he's trying not to smile. “And you can?” 

He doesn't understand. Jungkook shakes his head hard, which is a bad bad idea. Jimin's hand lands on the nape of his neck and squeezes a little, stopping him from moving. 

He looks at Jimin imploringly, to make him understand. "You can't do that for me.”

Jimin frowns. "I know you don't like to be babied, but you're so much drunker than me and I—"

"No," Jungkook turns to face Jimin fully, gets close. Jimin blinks. "You're sad. It's my turn."  

"Your turn...to do things for me?"

Jungkook nods, and it makes him dizzy again. God, why did he try to match Jimin’s pace? 

He needs to make him understand. Jimin’s the one always taking care of him. Finally, finally, Jungkook can be useful too.  "Tonight it's my turn." Deep breath. "Because you're sad, and I can't fix it, but I can take care of you. That will help. Won't it help, hyung?"

Jimin looks at him in this way, this soft, hushed, surprised way, and it makes his heart stop. 

"Won't it help," he mumbles again, just so they're not in silence, him, Jimin and this look. 

"It..."  Jimin trails off. Is he tearing up? Oh no. Oh no, this is the opposite of what Jungkook wants. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s neck, tries to bring him close for a hug, but once again, he severely miscalculates the force he needs—all he does is pull him down on top of him. 

Like this, Jungkook is on his back, arms around Jimin’s neck, and Jimin’s staring down at him, hands on either side of Jungkook’s face. 

"It will help," Jimin mumbles as if nothing happened. They stay locked like this, and Jungkook can’t help but look at Jimin’s hair, falling down around his face. He thinks about touching it all the time—not a day goes by when he doesn’t, and tonight, he gets to, brings a hand up and runs his fingers through, tries to tuck it behind Jimin’s ear. 

"So pretty," he mutters to himself. "You always said you wanted to dye it pink, remember, Jimin-ah? You were so sure it would look the best." He pouts. “I know your family wouldn’t let you, but you’re not with them anymore, you know? You’re with me.” 

Jimin’s still as marble above him, but Jungkook has different problems. The strand of hair won’t stay back. He frowns a little, tries again. 

Jungkook huffs. “It keeps falling.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin mumbles, hushed, hushed. 

Jungkook does it again, fully runs his fingers through, pulling the infuriating strand back and then holding his hand there, gripping a little.

Jimin breathes kind of hard and rushed then, and Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he says, but he sounds strange. Jungkook doesn’t quite believe it. 

“Hyung,” he tries again, but Jimin’s suddenly gone off him. 

“I said no.” He’s on his feet by the bed, a hand to his mouth and another on his waist, looking lost for a second. “I’ll. Get a snack. You stay,” he says to Jungkook, and then he’s gone. 

And that’s about all the memories Jungkook has from that evening. 

He wakes up the next morning with a pulsing headache. 

He stretches and stretches, and that’s when it all comes rushing back to him. He opens his eyes and the light of day that flashes fucks him up for a second, but he adjusts.

“What the fuck.” He groans, miserable, and rubs his face.

There’s no noise coming from anywhere in the tiny apartment. 

"Hyung?" he tries anyway. No one responds. Jimin’s shoes aren’t by the door, his bag isn’t on the floor where he’d unceremoniously dropped it last night.  

Jungkook fishes his phone out of the sheets to check the time. Oh, it’s well into the afternoon. Fuck. Thank God he works late.  

He has three messages and two missed calls from Seojun. He winces, rubbing his eyes. 

Whatever he’s said, I deserve it, he thinks, and unlocks the phone to bite the bullet, but it unlocks straight into his gallery, which is about 50 photos richer.

It’s him and Jimin in all of them. He doesn’t remember taking them at all.

He swipes through them and finds more than half of them are barely distinguishable. It looks like they went on for a while. Jimin’s the one holding the phone in the first ones, so it was probably his idea. Jungkook is too much of a clumsy drunk to even hold the phone up, so that makes sense. 

Some of these are really silly. Them winking at the camera with a faux smoulder, them poking their tongues out, Jimin’s whole hand over Jungkook’s face trying to cover him. After that one, it looks like there was a tussle, because the next one is Jungkook with his hand thrown over Jimin’s shoulder, pulling him close. They’re both lying down, and it looks so intimate it makes Jungkook’s heart swell. Jimin’s not even looking at the camera now, eyes closed and snuggled into Jungkook’s side. 

In the next tone, Jungkook’s eyes are closed too, and he’s pressing his lips onto Jimin’s head in a kiss. Sober morning Jungkook is half horrified and half extremely impressed that his drunk self managed to take a photo as centered as this with his eyes closed, especially while he has Jimin in his arms like this.  

It’s a little blurry, but they look so much like a couple Jungkook feels like crying. 

Clicking out his gallery, he goes back to his homepage, and he finds that last photo set as his background. 

He could change it, but. 

He doesn’t. 

The call goes as badly as Jungkook had feared and exactly as he deserved. The hurt and disappointment in Seojun’s voice is clear, and Jungkook apologises half a dozen times, but it does nothing to soften him. Fair enough, Jungkook thinks, when they hang up and he realises he’s never going to see this guy again.  

He thinks it might sting a little, if his heart wasn’t filled with that image of Jimin, snuggled and content in his arms.

"Hey," Jimin says, as he shuts the door behind him. Jungkook raises his head from his backpack, getting everything he needs for work.

"So you did take my key—" His jaw drops to the floor because. "Pink."

Jimin smiles, a little embarrassed, running his hands through his pink hair. Pink! 

"You like it?"

Jungkook walks over to Jimin, hearing his backpack fall to the floor behind him. It feels like he’s in a daze. 

“Pink?” he says again, and Jimin laughs. 

“I know it’s pink, I chose it. I’m asking if you like it.” 

Jungkook blinks and blinks. “I…” He shakes his head. Get it together. "It looks really good,” he manages. Good job, Jungkookie. 

Jimin’s eyes light up. “Really? It’s not too much?” 

Jungkook shakes his head again. “Are you serious? It’s…"

He reaches out a hand and doesn’t let himself think about it. He runs his hand through the pink strands. Freshly washed and styled, smelling faintly of something sweet. "It’s really pretty," he says. "It suits you." 

Jimin smiles and ducks his head, shy. Jungkook’s hand falls away. 

“You really are following some kind of break-up manual, huh?” 

It has the desired effect—Jimin slaps his shoulder and pushes him away, grumbling something about hyung knows best and to shut up and go be a ramen peddler and leave me in peace. 

He has to go to work then. He spends his whole shift thinking of Jimin, thinking pink, thinking do you like it.

He opens his door quietly when he gets back, just in case—it’s 2am, and he doesn’t want to wake him, if he’s here. 

His heart is pounding in anticipation a little. It’s fine. 

Jimin is there. He’s curled up in the sheets, watching something on his phone, too still to be really awake. 

Jungkook doesn’t turn on the lights, moving towards the bed. When the mattress dips as Jungkook sits down, Jimin stirs from a shallow sleep. 

“Mmm?” He looks up at Jungkook and slowly stretches a little. He frowns at the screen so disgruntled that Jungkook smiles, and he flips it over, so the brightest source of light in the room is facedown on the sheets. “You’re back?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook whispers. 

“How was it?” He stretches a little bit more, and then turns around so he can lie on his stomach fully, both arms under the pillow and staring up at Jungkook. 

Jungkook’s brain is flashing pretty pretty pretty in big bold letters again, so he grabs for the first piece of information that comes to mind. “Spectacular. Someone spilled soju on me and it’s still all over my hair.”

Jimin sits up, frowning at him, confused. “How can it be all over your hair?”

“Because, I bent down to pick something up from the floor next to this table, and one of the guys sitting there knocked the glass over with his elbow and it spilled all over my head.” He scrunches his nose in distaste. “I didn’t have time to even throw some water over it, we were so busy.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“How can you not, hyung, it stinks like someone fucking shampooed me with it—” and then he abruptly stops, because Jimin leans close and sticks his nose directly into Jungkook’s hair, inhaling deeply. His lips are brushing Jungkook’s cheek. It’s not the most intimate thing they've ever done, but Jungkook still feels prickly all over. 

“Mmm, no,” Jimin says. “Still nothing.”

“Shut up, come on.” Jungkook tries to push him away, cheeks flaming, but Jimin stays firmly put. He slings his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders and leans on him, breathing in again. 

Jimin chuckles, low and sleepy. “Sensitive, hm?” His back is stretched a little bit to lean on Jungkook, but when he feels Jungkook’s hand on his side to steady him he takes it as a green light and just climbs into Jungkook’s lap, slumping like a tired little koala. 

Jungkook is…overwhelmed. “What?” 

“Sensitive to smells, right? You’re always saying.” 

“Right,” Jungkook says with a gulp. “I should go shower.”

Jimin fists his hands into Jungkook’s shirt. “No you shouldn’t,” he says sternly, because apparently a sleepy Jimin is a clingy Jimin. 

Jungkook laughs, nervous. “Hyung.”

“Let’s sleep, come on,” he says, inhaling deeply again. “It’s late.”

“Well, why are you awake, then?” 

“Was waiting for you,” Jimin mumbles, and Jungkook’s heart does a flip. 

“I’m back,” Jungkook responds. “You can sleep.”

“By myself? No, thanks.”

Jungkook laughs again. “Then let me go so I can shower quickly.”

Jimin leans back finally, but right when Jungkook thought he was getting a break from this, Jimin takes his face in his hands and stares. “And then you’ll cuddle me?”

Jungkook blinks. “Y-yeah. Sure.” 

Jimin considers this with a pout and then nods, releasing Jungkook. “Fine, then,” he says, rolling off him and into the bed, arms under the pillow like before. “Quickly.” 

“Yes, your highness,” Jungkook says, pretending to be disgruntled, but he can barely think over the pounding of his heart.

What the fuck was that , he thinks as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. 

They go on like this for a couple more days. Jungkook doesn’t mention it and neither does Jimin—they just live their lives together in the tiny apartment like that’s what they always did. 

They move around each other with ease, coordinating effortlessly. It’s calm and solid and so fucking comforting, to have Jimin there when he comes home from work, to see his shoes by the door, the mug he prefers in the sink. 

Jungkook’s trying very hard to remember that Jimin’s hurting, even if it’s not showing all the time. To remember this isn’t the time to get lost in little domestic fantasies. 

Day seven of Jimin unofficially moving in, Jungkook goes to work. When he comes home in the evening, yelling out Jimin’s name, he finds his dishes washed, his laundry done, dinner waiting for him on the counter, and a note. 

Thank you for letting me stay. I would have gone crazy by myself. I’ll leave you in peace now, I promise. I owe you <3 

It’s harder for Jungkook to fall asleep in an empty bed, but he tries his hardest, scolding himself for getting used to a thing that wasn’t his to keep.

────────

They're sitting next to each other at dinner, and Jungkook's paying attention he swears, it's just that a good seventy-five percent of his brain is occupied trying not to touch Jimin. 

The thing is, the urge was always there, but he was good at holding it back. He let it flow through him, thought about it idly for a minute and then let it fizzle out, back into the land of unattainable fantasies. 

But it’s not unattainable any more. This time they spent together, sleeping next to each other for a week, practically spooning every single night…

It’s broken down a wall, and Jungkook doesn’t want to go back. He wants Jimin close all the time, and while that’s nothing new, now he knows what it’s like to touch. 

They're side by side, pressed closer than they necessarily need to be, and Jungkook holds on to that and tries to convince himself it's enough. 

The dinner goes on, but then Jimin says Jungkook's name and casually touches his knee, and it's over. 

He puts his arm behind Jimin’s chair and starts tracing gentle shapes all over his back. He doesn’t perceive an immediate reaction from the others, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have stopped, so. 

When Jimin leans into the touch, Jungkook freezes for a second, but then Jimin catches his eye and smiles, so he goes on, shamelessly. 

Jimin likes it, and he needs it, so he doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. 

He can’t really stop himself from reaching out again, after, as everyone shuffles away. Jimin’s the only one left standing by the table, reading through something on his phone. Jungkook’s next to him, for no reason other than he wants to be, and he tucks a strand of hair behind Jimin's ear. Jimin doesn’t even react at all, he just keeps looking through his phone. 

Jungkook’s trying not to press against his side, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around his waist and lean on him. 

Jimin turns to speak to him, and their noses almost brush.

“I thought I'd written it down in my notes app, the name of that place hyung recommended, but maybe I didn't. I'll have to go through my other bag—”

Do friends stand this close when they talk? Is this a normal position to be in, almost tucked into each other, voice low because what's the need for volume when you're standing a literal breath away? 

“Right?”

Jungkook blinks back into focus. “Mm? Right.”

Jimin squints at him suspiciously. “You weren't listening to me.” 

“I was!” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him and cracks Jungkook instantly. “Sorry.”

Jimin chuckles. “Get me my bag, hm?”

Jungkook thinks he sees Seokjin’s eyes follow him around the room as he goes to look for Jimin’s bag, but he doesn’t stick around to check. 

They spent more time together than before, now that Jimin’s single. Especially lately, what with Jungkook avoiding him and all, he’s missed him so much. 

Now, he gets to indulge. Movie night with Jimin apologising for the crumbs he’s leaving all over his bed from eating chips too quickly, groceries with Jimin who complained his shoulder hurt after having to do it all by himself, park stroll with Jimin because the sky is really pretty, Jungkook-ah, come watch it with me. 

He calls, Jungkook goes. It’s simple. 

It feels like they’re catching up for the lost time. All the moments that were stolen from Jungkook when Jimin left, slowly making their way back to him. 

“Where’s that lovely friend of yours tonight?” his boss asks him. 

Jungkook smiles at her. She loves Jimin. He’s rapidly become her favourite regular, surpassing even Namjoon. She would deny having favourites to the last, but Jungkook knows. 

“He’s busy,” Jungkook says, slipping her the order note. “Said he couldn’t make it.” 

“A date?” she asks. “Pretty boy like him, he must be fending the girls off.” 

What to say to that, now. “Not a date. I don’t think he’ll be dating for a while.” He hopes, at least. Selfishly, he’s not ready to let Jimin’s attention go yet. 

“Oh? Is he working hard?” 

“Yes, but he went through a break up recently. A rough one.” He shrugs. “I think it will take him some time to get over it.” 

“Poor thing,” she says, sympathy dripping from her voice. “How long were they together?” 

“Almost two—” Fuck, what day is it today? 

“Two months? Aish, that’s nothing, Jungkook-ah. You youngsters and your short-term relationships…” 

He stops listening. He tries very hard to remember. He goes to Jimin’s instagram, looks for the photo, and sure enough, one year ago to the day, Jimin had uploaded a photo of him and Taehyung with the caption one year x 

Shit. 

He texts Jimin immediately. He checks his phone every two minutes for the rest of his shift, but no answer. 

It's late, and nothing. The inside of Jungkook's mouth's been bitten raw in anticipation. 

The anniversary of what would have been his and Taehyung's two years shouldn't be an easy thing to get through, not so fresh after a breakup. If Jungkook knows Jimin at all, he knows he shouldn't be alone today—he needs company, he needs distracting. 

He’s barely watching where he’s going as he stumbles off the bus. Should he go to Jimin’s? Would that be too much? 

He sighs. Should he call, or is Jimin going to be mad? But he's so worried.

He fishes his keys out of his pocket and almost stumbles from not watching where he’s going. He curses under his breath and pulls his head up, and there, in front of his door, is Jimin, looking so, so tired. 

He's dressed up to go out. Skin tight jeans, white t-shirt that fits him perfectly, make up on. 

"Hey," he smiles at Jungkook, with the saddest eyes. 

"Hey," he says. He trails his hand down Jimin's arm all the way down, and his fingers are frozen. "Hyung, where's your jacket?" He takes Jimin's hands in his and tries to rub some warmth into them. "It's so cold outside, don't tell me you left the house like this." 

Jungkook scrambles to open quickly, to get him out of the cold. How is Jimin out in just a t-shirt? 

Jimin blinks at him blearily, like he's struggling to think properly. "Must have left it at the club," he murmurs, trailing off uncertainly. He's looking at Jungkook's hands on him like they fascinate him, stare fixed on them. 

"Here, wait," Jungkook says, reluctantly letting go. He grabs a sweatshirt of his and helps Jimin put it on, his movements still a bit dazed. 

He zips him all the way up and Jimin shivers. "There," he says, rubbing at his arms once before letting go. 

"Thanks," Jimin mumbles. He just stands there, looking a bit lost.

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. Should he ask? Should he let Jimin talk? Should he distract him? 

He ends up herding Jimin to the bed and making some tea, just to have something to hold, to warm his hands. Jimin rolls his sleeves back a few times, balancing the mug precariously on the mattress.

"How come you didn't answer my texts?" Jungkook ends up saying, a fake little pout in place. 

Jimin looks at him. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't..." He pauses, swallows hard. "It's...it was going to be..."

"I know," Jungkook mumbles. Jimin lifts his tea up gingerly. “That’s why I wanted to see you.” 

"You worried about me," he repeats, like it's not sinking in. 

Jungkook looks at him helplessly, head tilted to the side. 

Does he really have to say it? 

Jimin bites his lip, fixating on the mug. It's still steaming. 

“He, uh…” He licks his lips. “He texted me, when I was out. But I couldn’t read it alone.” 

Jungkook understands suddenly. “Okay.” He puts his tea down, takes Jimin’s too. “You want to do it now?” 

Jimin nods, dread written all over his face. 

He unlocks the phone, breathing deeply. Jungkook reaches out and squeezes his ankle, a small i’m here, go on. 

He watches Jimin’s eyes flit eagerly over the text for a long time, and then he sees his face crumple. 

Tears flood his eyes from one second to the next, breaths coming short and shaky, phone clutched horribly tightly in his hand. 

Jungkook’s heart twists helplessly. What the fuck did that text say? 

Not important right now, not when Jimin’s crying like this. 

"Hyung," he says, shuffling closer, putting an arm around his waist. Jimin's got his knees hugged to his chest, his head tucked, face hidden from view. He's trying very hard to be quiet, and Jungkook hates it. His other hand falls on Jimin's knee. He's wrapped around him from the side, trying to cover him, shelter him, even though he knows it's very little help. 

"Hyung," he murmurs, his head on Jimin's shoulder. "Shh, what…?" 

"What's wrong with me," he says, breath hiccuping. "Why can't I just move on from this—"

Jungkook wraps his other arm around him too now, pressing closer, rocking them gently. "Nothing's wrong with you," he murmurs. 

"Of course there is, he—he said he loved me and then he just stopped, if—how is anyone ever going to love me again—they're all going to see—what he saw and no one is going to want me, Jungkook, it's all going to be—shitty fucking hookups and—"

He holds him through it, Jimin's hands clutching onto his arm now, tight and desperate, clinging.

"That's good," he murmurs when Jimin starts to calm down. He kisses his temple, his shoulder. "That's good, just breathe."  

He listens, and his breaths are coming easier now. It calms Jungkook down a bit too, gives him a moment of clarity. 

He jostles Jimin a bit, getting him to turn to his side so they can look at each other. Jungkook's hand's still resting on his waist, the other one carding through his hair soothingly. "What did he say," he whispers. 

Jimin hands him the phone, eyes closed and forehead leaning on the wall. In the shitty lighting from Jungkook’s bedside lamp he looks like a hologram, pink hair against the white. 

Jungkook takes it, reluctantly unwrapping himself from around Jimin, and unlocks it, tapping in the code without pause. It opens directly on the chat with Taehyung, still saved as tae <3 . He doesn't read the messages before the last one, sent an hour ago. 

Hey, Jimin-ah. I just wanted to tell you you were on my mind today. It would have been a big day for us, you know? Thinking about it again, I'm glad we did things this way. Did you have fun for us today? I hope you did. Be well, okay? 

No wonder it had sent Jimin into an almost panic attack. Jungkook would have had the same reaction. Even now, when it's not about him, his chest feels tight with secondhand shame and anger. 

"Wow." It slips without his consent, and Jimin snorts humourlessly. 

"Yeah," he says. "Pathetic, right?" 

“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, but he doesn't know how to go on. Should he reach out to hold him again?

"Don't even try to tell me it isn't. Here I am, getting all worked up and going out to forget him, to pretend he never existed, letting strangers touch me just to—just to feel like someone wants me." 

I want you, Jungkook wants to scream. Me, I want you. For years, I’ve wanted you. Forever. 

Jimin takes a breath, shaking his head. His face contorts like he's trying to hold back tears again, mouth pursing, eyes scrunched shut. "And here he is," his voice cracks, rough from crying before already, "texting me so fucking carelessly, like it doesn't tear him to pieces to think of talking to me, like—like he's over it already—" 

A tear slips again, and Jimin wipes it stubbornly. "Which he probably is, right? He said it had been a long time coming. He was over us while we were still together, and I'm here crying over it like a moron after two whole months." He sniffs. "Pathetic."

Jungkook shakes his head. "You were together almost two years. Two months is nothing." 

"Why is he so okay about this?" He goes on like he didn't even hear Jungkook. "Didn't I mean anything to him? Was I so—forgettable that he just stopped caring from one day to the next?"

Forgettable? 

That's it. Enough with the bullshit. He can’t let Jimin think this way, not for another second. 

"Hyung."

He never knew conviction can make you dizzy. He takes a breath. It’s now or never, and Jimin needs this, so it has to be now. 

Here goes nothing. 

"I've liked you ever since we were kids." 

Jimin's eyes widen as he stops whatever he was about to say. His mouth opens and closes, no sound coming out. 

Another breath. "Since middle school, probably. I've liked you since then." He nods, biting at the inside of his cheek. He needs to tell him more. He needs to explain. "I…I, um, don’t really have a moment. It’s more like, you’re in all my happy memories,” he says, blushing to the roots of his hair. “Wait, it’s a lie—there is a moment, kind of.” He nods to himself. “When we met up for the first time here. When you came running towards me and you hugged me like two years hadn’t gone by.”  

Jimin is looking at him in disbelief. Jungkook tries focusing his eyes on something on the other side of the room. "I guess it all just—came rushing back, and I recognised it, then."

He feels so naked right now. His anxiety has crawled up his throat and lodged there, and he feels like he can't breathe properly, but another look at the tear tracks drying on Jimin's face has him pushing through.

"What I was feeling."

Jimin looks distracted from his tears, at least. "Jungkook-ah..."  He sounds lost. 

"I'm not expecting you to say anything," Jungkook is quick to reassure, his heart in his throat. "I didn't tell you so you could—confess back, or anything."  

"Then why?" 

"Because, hyung. Forgettable? Are you serious?" He laughs. "I've felt that way about you for ten years. Do you know how I just miss you, even when it doesn't make sense? Doesn't it tell you enough, the way I can only feel safe enough to sleep when you're around?" He shakes his head. "Even when you left, all that time, it never went away, this feeling—all it took was a hug." He risks a look up, and Jimin looks floored, hand clutching the necklace hanging on his collarbone, hands curled into fists. "So, you can call yourself a whole number of things, but I won't just stand by and let you think you're forgettable." 

Another breath. Almost there.

"You're—you're too good. You're too precious, to be crying like this thinking no one will ever want you. Love you," he says, voice going quieter with the last words. "That's not going to happen. Just...trust me."  

He finishes and it feels...anticlimactic. The silence of the room should scare him, but he's just weirdly...calm. He needed this out, needed Jimin to know. What's a little embarrassment when Jimin was hurting like this and Jungkook could help, somehow? 

Still, he's finding it hard to look up at him. 

"I don't know what to say," Jimin says, voice low. 

When Jungkook doesn't raise his eyes, he reaches out and holds his hand. His thumb brushes over Jungkook's knuckles gently. Jungkook takes a shaky breath, shoulders relaxing a little.

"I...I had no idea. I really didn't...even—"

"It's okay." 

"Is it, really? You felt all this, silently, for so long, and I never even noticed?” He makes a frustrated sound. "I'm sorry," Jimin says, and that has Jungkook's head snapping up. "I'm sorry for not realising sooner. All the—god, all the hugging and sleeping in your bed...kissing Taehyung in front of you, I'm..." He squeezes Jungkook's hand in both of his. "I should have seen it."  

That's the first time he's said Taehyung's name without crying in two months. He hasn't even realised. 

"I didn't really want you to know,” Jungkook says with a shrug. “And this isn't about me, anyway. I just wanted to tell you all that fear you have about ending up alone...you have nothing to worry about, hyung, okay?" He tacks on a smile at the end. He hopes it’s reassuring, but it feels fragile. 

Does he sound pathetic? He doesn't know. Now he’s not talking anymore, Jungkook’s words start to catch up with him. Worry is starting to squirm down in his belly. 

He hasn’t even told him the whole truth. Like you, he said. That’s such an understatement of his feelings it might as well be a lie. How did he think he could ever tell Jimin he was in–

Jimin is looking at him, expression cloudy, serious. 

"Can I...can I try something?" Jimin asks.

There’s that tightrope feeling again.  

Jungkook nods. He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. But it's Jimin, and tonight, Jungkook's here to give him whatever he needs. 

He watches, stomach twisting in intricate, painful knots, as Jimin scoots closer. He leans in, puts a hand on Jungkook's nape. Jungkook's heart is somersaulting in his chest. 

Panic and excitement and yearning and shock are all tussling for the win inside of him.

"Hyung, I don't need you to—" 

"I need me to," he mumbles, and then presses in, kissing Jungkook. 

His heart explodes, bright and loud and crackling, with the feeling of Jimin's lips on his.  

Holy shit, holy shit.

He’s not breathing, is he. He needs to breathe. But if he breathes, if he moves, then he might wake up, or Jimin might stop and come to his senses and then where will they be? 

Jimin pulls away just a fraction and Jungkook lets out a shuddery exhale. It’s over. It’s over, this thing he’s dreamed of for so long, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it—

Then he’s being kissed again. 

This kiss is filled with purpose, and it seems like that purpose is to make him fall apart.

Jimin makes a little noise in his throat and rises up on his knees, moving closer to Jungkook. He's leaning over him, sliding between his legs, and Jungkook feels dizzy, head tilted up and lost to the kiss. His hands must have reached out with no input from his brain, because they're clutching Jimin's shirt and then wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. 

Kiss, breath, desperate hammering of his heart, kiss, kiss, kiss. How is this what he’s doing right now? He never thought he'd get this, Jimin's hands in his hair like this, pulling so he opens his mouth wider, gives him more to work with. 

He wants this forever. He wants this now, and tomorrow, and every single day after, he wants to know he's waking up to this and letting it get him through the gloomy days, the shitty work and dirty apartment and noisy neighbours and frozen supermarket food, it would all be worth it if he could just keep kissing Jimin forever, forever. 

But tonight isn't about him. 

"Wait, wait," he says, between kisses, completely breathless and boneless and senseless. God, all this just from kissing? Jimin keeps kissing down his jaw, and he can't concentrate. "Hyung, um. Wait, please."  

Jimin pulls back a little, and it looks like it takes effort. "What is it," he says. Jungkook zeroes in on his lips despite himself, red and well kissed. Fuck.

"This isn't a good idea," he says, even though his whole body is screaming at him to shut up and just take a good thing. "You're—There's been so much, um. Crying, and big emotions aired out and everything, and I just don't think we're thinking straight, right now." He trails off a little weakly, barely believing what he's saying himself.

He knows he's right, deep in his mind somewhere, a logical mind of a person who wasn't kissed silly by Park Jimin. But right now he just wants to tackle him to the bed and pick right up from where they left off. 

Jimin licks his lips. He looks like he might just kiss Jungkook again, and he looks like he might run out the door and disappear into the night. Jungkook can’t read him at all right now, his mind so foggy. 

"You're right."  

"I am?" Jungkook says in surprise. "I am," with more conviction this time. 

Jimin smiles a little. "You are. Um, wait." He untangles his hands from Jungkook's hair and takes a breath, trying to clear his head. Jungkook unclenches his fingers from his shirt, lets him slip through his fingers. 

He sits down, still close to Jungkook, but not pressed together anymore. 

Now what, Jungkook thinks. 

Just as Jungkook's heart is starting to return to normal, before he settles his back against the wall, Jimin darts in and pecks him, solid and real, one more time. 

"Sorry," he says, to Jungkook blinking in surprise. "Sorry, I'll be good." He brings his hand to his mouth, biting his nail, the other arm going around himself. He looks like he's trying to hold himself back, and Jungkook can relate.

The way he's looking at him is making Jungkook's skin tingle. Jimin's eyes are taking him in like they're seeing him for the first time, and Jungkook can almost see the cogs whirring in his brain, running through their time together, recalculating, recalibrating. 

"Okay," he says, running his hands through his hair and breathing out long and hard. He blinks a few times, then snaps his fingers. "Water," he says, and that makes Jimin laugh, so he thinks he's on the right track.

The next morning, Jungkook’s making coffee when he feels two arms wrapping around his waist. 

Sleepy Jimin, clingy Jimin. He knows this. It makes him smile.

"Morning," he says, and he tries not to betray the way his heart shakes when Jimin touches him. 

"Mmm," Jimin mumbles back. He’s nuzzling his head against Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook wants to melt. 

"Slept well?"  

"Mmhm." 

Jungkook chuckles. "Is it a non-verbal kind of day?" 

Jimin doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns Jungkook around and pushes him back to the counter. His hands come to rest on Jungkook’s cheeks, and he just looks at him for a second, looks all over his face, like he’s checking something. 

“How are you feeling,” Jungkook mumbles, softly, even if he’s not really batting for a real answer right now. 

Jimin leans a little up then, just closes the distance, and kisses Jungkook in the light of day. 

Jungkook can’t really process what’s happening. He knows he woke up, didn’t he? He got up and washed up and started on breakfast, thinking it must be at least twenty four hours since Jimin ate, so he should make something for when he gets up. 

How can this be happening, then?  

Jimin drags his teeth over his bottom lip, just a little, just enough, and Jungkook sighs against Jimin’s mouth and thinks, if i’m still asleep, then this is a nice dream. 

He brings his hands to Jimin’s hair, pink and pretty and lovely, and runs through them, tilts his head so he can kiss him better, kiss him the way he didn’t let himself last night. 

Because last night Jimin was freshly heartbroken and tipsy, and today…today maybe he’s doing this because he wants it, even a fraction as much as Jungkook does. 

It would be enough, Jungkook thinks, and pulls him closer. 

────────

If Jungkook thought being in love with Jimin from afar was difficult, he has another thing coming. 

Knowing they've crossed the line, knowing he's allowed, now, to kiss him and hold him and have him, that way he couldn't before, is driving him slowly but surely crazy. 

He walks to work with a fucking spring in his step. His boss frowns at him like he thinks Jungkook's being weird, but it serves him well, since all the customers are eating his good mood up. 

He goes to the weekly lunch with his stomach all aflutter, because Jimin's going to be there. He's buzzing, bouncing his leg up and down radiating jittery excitement, but when Jungkook hears his voice from the corridor, he stops.

Jimin walks into the room, and Jungkook must light up, must show something, because Seokjin elbows him. 

He goes to the kitchen and waits, and when Jimin follows, half a minute later, Jungkook grabs him by the wrist and pulls him close. 

"Hi," Jimin says, eyes disappearing into his smile. He puts his arms around Jungkook’s waist and rests his weight on him, settling against him. 

Jungkook kisses his cheek, and he feels like he’s going to burst. "How are you," he whispers, nuzzling against Jimin’s cheek and kissing him lightly again. 

"Better now you’ve kissed me."

Jungkook ducks his head into Jimin’s neck. This Jimin, openly flirting with him is so new, and it takes his breath away. He takes the opportunity and kisses down Jimin’s neck gently, slowly, and Jimin sighs and leans into it. 

"Feels nice," he whispers, his hand slipping under Jungkook’s shirt to touch skin. 

"Mm," Jungkook mumbles and kisses back up his jaw until he lands on his mouth, kissing him deeper, open. 

This is all they’ve done so far, some days after Jungkook’s life was changed forever. They’ve kissed soft, and they’ve kissed harder, and that’s all, and it’s still too much for Jungkook to process sometimes. 

They can’t stay here for long. Someone’s bound to walk in. But the last thing Jungkook wants is to step out of Jimin’s arms, for any earthly reason. 

Jimin pulls away first. 

"Come to a movie with me, after? I'll buy you the big popcorn," Jimin says with a hint of shyness colouring his tone, like he thinks Jungkook might say no.

He still doesn't get it, does he?  

Jungkook nods happily and kisses him again to seal the deal. He doesn't ask anything more—where, when, what movie, why. He just drinks in Jimin's smile and is happy, happy, happy. 

Jungkook can’t stop looking at him all through the lunch and thinking, he’s kissing me, he asked me out, he sleeps with me every other night. No one else on the table knows but him and Jimin, and it feels fragile and precious and thrilling. 

They’re ten minutes into the movie when Jimin turns Jungkook’s face to his and kisses him like he’s been waiting to do it ever since they laid eyes on each other. 

Jungkook makes a surprised little noise, setting the popcorn down on the next seat, and Jimin smiles against his mouth. "Shh," he says, and leans back in, determined. 

This reality where Park Jimin kisses him on the regular, just reaches out and leans in and takes what he wants, is the best and worst thing to ever happen to Jeon Jungkook. Especially when Jimin kisses first—it sets his body on fire.

Jimin slips his tongue into his mouth and he stops thinking at all, after that. 

When Jimin pulls back, a minute or a month later, he takes Jungkook in and laughs. 

Jungkook pouts through his haze. "What," he mumbles. 

Jimin’s leaning his head against the seat, turned to Jungkook, smiling so brightly, eyes teasing. 

"I just love the way you look after I kiss you.”

“How’s that,” Jungkook mutters, and watches Jimin’s smile melt into something even softer. 

“Like you’re surprised by it, every time.”

Jungkook is. Jungkook is trying to figure out how they got here, how the math of their lives worked so heavily in his favour. 

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t care, not with Jimin’s finger’s tracing shapes over Jungkook’s palm, running over the creases of it, marking himself all over the life line, like he’s doing it on purpose. 

They spend the weekend together, holed up in Jungkook’s apartment. All they do is watch dumb movies and kiss and kiss, like they’re teenagers, just an endless tussle of tease, tease, and then there’s some tackling, some kissing, some gasping.

This place has never felt more like a home to Jungkook. 

His apartment is small, sunless little hole in the wall, but Jungkook feels like he's bathing in sunlight, warmed and cosy and safe. 

The noisy neighbours aren’t so bad when Jimin presses his ear to the wall and tries to eavesdrop with a devilish little smile on his face. The broken heater just gives them an excuse to stay in bed, to huddle together under the sheets. 

It’s magic, Jungkook thinks, as he watches him cook on the one stovetop that works, eyes glazed over, soothed by the gentle sound of Jimin’s voice as he’s explaining. The recipe is incredibly simple, really, but Jimin’s doing this thing where he pretends to be in a cooking show.

He's in Jungkook's shirt, that same sleep shirt he always uses, and it's falling off his shoulder—there's a bite mark peeking through there, one that Jungkook left. He can't take his eyes off it. 

"Hey," Jimin says.

"Hey," Jungkook says, blinking and focusing on him. 

"I said, what kind of egg do you want?" 

"A delicious one," Jungkook says, just to be a little shit. 

Jimin narrows his eyes at him. "What kind of egg." 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side like he's not understanding Jimin's question. "A delicious one." 

Jimin's crossing the small space and crowding him, coming up to his face. Giggling, Jungkook ducks to avoid him. 

"I'll decide for you, then." He turns around, but Jungkook catches him by the wrist before he can leave. He pulls him close, hands on his hips and drops a kiss on his chest, the closest part of him he has access to. 

Jimin's face softens. He brings his hands to Jungkook's hair, caressing, smoothing over and pulling it back. Jungkook lets his eyes fall closed. 

"You're cute." 

"You're one to talk," Jungkook mumbles. 

"I think you're definitely the cutest one out of the two of us." 

Jungkook shakes his head. He starts pulling Jimin's shirt up. He drops a kiss to his stomach. "Definitely hyung," he says, looking up with an innocent look. He drops another kiss, a little higher. 

Jimin's looking at him hungrily, as Jungkook keeps trailing kisses up and up on his chest. Eventually, he has to stand up. He stays close, mouth hovering over Jimin's. 

"Jungkook—"  

Jungkook leans in to kiss him and right then there's a sound like something sizzling, and Jimin jumps out of his arms to run to the overflowing pot with a slow chant of fuck fuck fuck. 

Jungkook helps him clean up.

Life goes on, and it’s the same, except Jungkook carries Jimin wherever he goes.

He goes to do groceries and thinks oh, Jimin would like this. He watches dumb videos on his phone and thinks Jimin would laugh at this, he would think this one’s stupid, he would imitate this until we’re both crying with laughter, I can’t wait to show him. Can’t wait to see him, can’t wait to kiss him. He sees couples holding hands and thinks us, thinks one day, soon. 

They’re at a club with their friends, and it’s loud and booming, and Jungkook’s tipsy, tipsy, tipsy. 

He doesn’t come out like this often—he finds it stressful more often than not, but they all wanted to and Jungkook figured where’s the harm, for once? 

“The secret,” says Seokjin, who also isn’t the biggest fan of clubs, “is getting drunk.” He winks at Jungkook and buys him the first drink, and Jungkook laughs and sticks by him.

He’s letting the music flow through him easy; Seokjin was right, the fourth drink really made all the difference. They spend some time commenting on people’s outfits, on their drunken dancing, but then Jimin moves within sight, and it’s a lost cause. 

Jungkook’s got his eyes hooked on him helplessly. 

He wants to wrap himself around him, feel the way he dances absolutely everywhere, have Jimin’s hands gripping his hair, his mouth on his, he wants it all. 

Only, all their friends are there. 

So he has to knock his drink back and tighten his fists, hoping that Jimin will come home with him. 

He’s slept over a lot, since they started this. He likes to drape himself all over Jungkook and cling. 

Jungkook loves it. He loves pulling Jimin’s back into his chest, slinging his arms around his waist, holding him close. He loves it too, when Jimin’s nose is in his neck, when he presses sweet kisses onto the sensitive skin of it. When Jimin slides a hand into his hair, when they’re forehead to forehead, running his fingers gently through Jungkook’s half formed curls and mumbling something soft, humming a word or a song or a jungkook-ah. 

He loves it, but he wants more, too. More like he remembers it, more like he’d imagined it those two years Jimin was gone, anytime he needed comforting. 

So when Jimin does tell their friends he’s getting Jungkook home and they say goodbye without batting an eye, he thinks maybe. 

Body and tongue loose after a little wine, drunk all the way from the way Jimin had pressed him into the back wall of the club as they waited for the taxi and kissed and licked and bit his neck until he was painted all over it, he thinks now.  

"Can you..." 

Jimin turns to him from where he’d already been lying down with his back to Jungkook, eyes bleary. "Hm?" 

"Can you do it like we used to?" 

Jimin  looks at Jungkook without moving just a second too long, and Jungkook almost takes it back. 

"Turn around," Jimin whispers. 

Jungkook does, and he melts into it when Jimin's chest presses against his back, arm wrapping around his waist. Jimin’s hand rests over his chest, his palm over his heart like he’s looking for himself in there somehow.

Jimin presses a kiss just under his ear. "This where you want me?" 

"I want you everywhere," Jungkook mumbles, eyes closed, drifting already. 

“Remember how often we used to do this?” Jimin whispers, a smile in his voice. “Even as teenagers. Even when we got too big for your bed.” He chuckles, and the hollowness of it doesn’t escape Jungkook, even like this. “I was so scared your folks would come in and see. Can you imagine what would have happened if they caught us?” 

“My dad wouldn’t care,” Jungkook mumbles. He doesn’t care about anything. 

“Your mom would coo at us, probably.” The thought makes Jungkook sad. “She was always doing that when we were little. Any time we’d hold hands, she would say, oh, you boys! So cute!” 

She would also say, you love each other so much, don’t you? 

“I remember,” Jungkook says, limbs feeling heavy. “I looked at you like this back then, and I wondered.” At Jimin’s inquisitive noise, he finishes, “what it would be like to kiss you.” 

“What is it like?” Jimin mumbles into his ear.  

“It’s like…” Jungkook starts, but can’t really finish it. His brain is already closed for business, his body relaxed and sinking into the bed, into Jimin. 

Jimin huffs a little laugh in his ear when he realises he’s not getting his answer. He puts his lips softly over the marks he’s left on Jungkook’s neck, dragging and kissing a goodnight onto them, murmuring something that Jungkook doesn’t quite get. 

Jungkook catches him drifting, sometimes. 

It’s not like he doesn’t understand. He knows it must all still be fragile for Jimin, so soon after a break up, finding out your best friend is in love with you. 

Jungkook’s letting Jimin come to him, waits with open arms and a wilting little sunflower heart that perks up when Jimin’s there, smiling at him, and Jungkook follows where he goes without complaint. 

He’s letting him get through this in between stage, this limbo where before is out of reach and now is too surreal, tries to be a solid marker of reality. I’m here, I was and I am and I’ll always be, somewhere to hang on to in this drift. 

They're watching a movie and he looks at him, just because he hasn’t looked in a while, and Jimin's eyes are stuck on some faraway spot on the wall, glazed over, a frown between his eyebrows. 

Jungkook drops a kiss on his shoulder, and he blinks back to focus, turning to him. Jungkook settles in closer, and Jimin smiles a little, just for a second. 

His eyes are awake now, but still sad. 

He puts his head on Jimin’s shoulder (I’m here), he grabs his hand to play with his fingers (I was), he brings it to his lips to kiss his knuckles (I always will be). 

Later that night, they’re just looking at each other, settled in bed, hands tangled between them, held tight. Jimin’s between wakefulness and sleep, his eyes closing and fluttering stubbornly open again. 

Jungkook giggles. “Why don’t you go to sleep?” 

“Mm,” Jimin hums with a little frown between his eyebrows. “Don’t want to, yet.” 

“Why.” 

“No reason,” he says, and scoots over closer to Jungkook. 

“No reason?” Jungkook asks, trailing his lips over Jimin’s forehead. 

“Not at all,” he says, barely getting it out around a yawn. “You?” 

“I’m not sleepy.” 

“Why are you in bed, then?” 

Because that’s where hyung is. “It’s my bed,” Jungkook says. “You’re invading and you dare ask me why?” 

Jimin smiles, leans close and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s lip. 

Jimin shakes his head. “You never answered me, that time.” 

Jungkook frowns. “What?” 

“About what it feels like to kiss me,” Jimin says, eyes on Jungkook, checking for a reaction. “If it’s everything you expected.” 

“Ah, hyung,” Jungkook mutters, embarrassed. “What kind of compliment are you fishing for, here?” 

Jimin’s straddling him the next moment, moving with the speed of someone not at all half asleep. 

He leans down, hovers, hovers. “Tell me, hm?” 

Jungkook leans up, but Jimin dodges him. 

“How do you want me to answer if you don’t let me kiss you?” 

Jimin smirks, clearly enjoying this immensely. Their lips are practically touching, but Jungkook doesn’t move again, because then so would Jimin—he recognises this light in his eyes, this teasing mood. He hates it and at the same time he wants to stay here forever, suspended in the seconds just before he gets to kiss him, body light with anticipation and Jimin sitting heavy on his hips. 

“Hyung,” he pleads. He reaches out and trails his hand up Jimin’s shirt, touching skin. “Hyung.” 

“Won’t you say please?” 

Jungkook wants to tease back, but now is not the time. “Please.” 

Jimin’s face does something funny, and he leans down to press their lips together, arms on either side of Jungkook’s head, leaning over him fully. 

Jungkook tries to find the words. He thinks of jumping from a great height, the tight exhilaration. He thinks of rushing down a river, carried by the current. He thinks of coming home in the winter, all the cold slowly melting off your limbs and warmth igniting little by little all over your body. 

He kisses back so gratefully, so carefully. Jimin grips his chin and makes him gasp, revels in it, kisses harder. Jungkook’s lost in it, tilting his head back and letting Jimin dip in and take and take and take. 

He thinks if he somehow managed to send all this, this sensation, back through time, to the Jungkook lying down on his childhood bed and wondering what that squirming feeling was in his stomach when he looked at Jimin, what a kiss from him might feel like, he would knock the kid out for weeks. He’d laugh, if he had any air left in his lungs. 

Jimin pulls back, leaving Jungkook alone in the dark. 

“So, how does it feel?” 

It takes him a second to find words. 

“Feels like you like to mess with me,” he mumbles. 

Jimin chuckles, leaning down to nip at Jungkook’s jaw. “It’s not my fault,” he says, words whispered into Jungkook’s skin. “You blush so prettily.”  

Jimin falls asleep first that night, a rare occurrence. Jungkook washes up as quietly as he can and slides into the bed. They really need to get a second pillow, if Jimin's going to stay over this often. Maybe he can go after work tomorrow. Buy a good one, with actual stuffing inside, not like this shitty one that came with the apartment. 

He lifts the covers, lies down and looks at the view. 

The dark brown is starting to grow out again, chasing the pink away. He should dye it again. Or maybe he should do another colour, now he's started. Go through more, shyly come to Jungkook to ask if he likes it. Better yet, bring him with him to the appointment, so they can talk and laugh and keep each other company, so that Jungkook is there through it all. 

Jimin stirs a little. With a frown he reaches over to Jungkook's side of the bed and blindly touches him. "Mmm."

Jungkook smiles, scooting closer. He's so beautiful like this. 

"Come here," he mumbles in his sleep, hand fisting in Jungkook's shirt. Jungkook stays put, just to see, just for a second. Jimin gives another little tug and Jungkook makes to follow with a smile, and Jimin says, 

"Tae, ‘s cold."

His smile freezes over. His heart too. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. It's okay. It's normal. He slept with Taehyung for almost two years, it's okay. He's not even really awake, it's okay. 

Jungkook swallows down the lump in his throat and gets closer, giving Jimin what he wants. 

Jimin hums, pleased and very much asleep. He presses his lips to Jungkook's chest in a sleepy kiss and mumbles something that sounds a lot like sweetheart. 

They keep going to the weekly get-togethers as friends.

Jungkook’s not worried, He isn’t. He’s giving Jimin time. 

It’s just weird, to have Jimin sucking hickeys onto his neck one night and greeting him with a ruffle of his hair the next, just because there’s people watching. 

He probably doesn’t want the pressure, the questions that might come with seeing them together. The judgment, maybe. 

Not that their friends would judge them, but still. What they have is so new, and so undefined—trying to explain it to others might shape it in a weird way, distort it. No, Jungkook gets it, he does. 

It’s just, he wants to be able to reach over and hold Jimin’s hand as they’re eating, sometimes. He wants to lean in and whisper in his ear and have Jimin turn right around and kiss him, heads bent together, lost in their own little world. He wants it so badly that there’s moments when he has to stop looking at Jimin, fearing that it’s all written all over his face. 

Hoseok’s telling a story as they’re all wrapping up, putting the plates together, clanking them loudly together specifically to annoy Seokjin. 

“And the customer was being a real dick, honestly—and I just kept thinking of that thing Taehyungie said one time, about how to deal with them—” 

Jungkook’s head snaps up at the sound of the name, and it seems like he’s not the only one. There’s an awkward air between them, everyone waiting for a reaction.

Sweetheart, Jungkook hears in his head. 

Jimin’s just frozen from where he’d been transferring the leftovers into one plate, fork and plate in the air. 

“Um,” Hoseok says, regret filling his voice. “I mean…” 

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, with a breathless little smile, strained and dead eyed. “What was it?” 

The room kind of untenses, and Hoseok stumbles his way back into the rest of his story, and they move on, except…

Jungkook pays attention, and Jimin’s subdued, the rest of the night. He usually would be the first to pour the drinks, settling into conversation and laughing loudly, but this time he just nurses his beer for a while, hanging out in the margins. 

Jungkook wants to go to him, but he doesn’t know if he’d be welcome. Jimin’s sitting on the armchair, so there’s no space for him anyway. 

Sweetheart. 

The rest of the night passes okay. They’d said they’d go home together, so they go through the charade—Jungkook says goodbye to everyone, including Jimin, and then whispers in his ear, “Wait for you outside?” Jimin mutters a yes, squeezing him tightly. 

Jungkook’s leaning against the wall, right next to the door. He can hear steps approaching right behind it, and his heart flutters—he wants to kiss Jimin. He hasn’t seen him properly in a couple days, and he’s just—really missing him. 

He focuses when he realises he can fully hear the conversation on the other side of the wood. It’s Hoseok’s voice.

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course, hyung.” 

“I don’t want you to just say that. It can’t be easy, this break-up, you know? And you never talk about it. I don’t know how it just slipped like that, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, and his tone of voice shows it’s not the first time in the conversation he’s had to say it. 

“How are you doing, Jimin-ah, really?” 

“I’m…well, I’m working on it.” 

“Must be rough, after so long. First love and all, hm?” 

The words hit Jungkook like a truck, because Hoseok’s right. How did he never think of that before?  

Taehyung was Jimin’s first love. It burns, somewhere inside him. He feels robbed, somehow—same as the first Jimin got drunk, it should have been with Jungkook, by rights, by all the laws that govern the universe. 

What do they say, about first loves? You never forget them. They always stay with you, even after it’s over. 

Jungkook can’t attest to that. His first love is Jimin, and it’s very much not over. It’s barely even begun at all. 

He tunes back in to hear Hoseok again. 

“We’re here, if you need anything. A shoulder, a distraction, to blow off some steam.” 

Hoseok’s voice does something strange then, something low and pointed, and Jungkook freezes. He doesn’t dare breathe until he hears Jimin’s response. Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he considering—is he thinking—? 

“Yah, Jimin-ah!” Seokjin’s voice comes from inside. “How dare you leave without taking down the trash! You and that kid, too, I swear—” 

Two bursts of laughter come from the other side of the door, and then their steps get farther, while Jungkook just sits there, heart pounding.  

Blow off some steam, that’s what Hoseok said. Is that what Jimin’s doing with him? Is that it, while Jungkook’s here dreaming of holding hands and mornings together in bed? 

“Hey, you.” 

Jimin’s stepping out, soft smile in place like nothing’s wrong. 

“Hyung made me take down the trash,” he says with a wince. He takes in Jungkook, and must notice something in his mood, because he asks, “Everything alright?” 

He reaches out and takes Jungkook’s hand, running a thumb gently over his knuckles. Jungkook feels instantly better, despite himself. 

Surely, he could never be just that. Surely, Jimin wouldn’t look at him so gently if that’s all this was, wouldn’t check on him and hold his hand. 

Even if he wasn’t his first love, he could still count for something.

“All good,” he says, trying to wish the bad mood away. He reaches for the trash bag, tries to take it out of Jimin’s hands. Jimin dodges him. 

“No reason to get your hands dirty too!” He entwines their fingers and pulls him to the elevator. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Jungkook’s almost appeased, that squirming feeling almost washed away, because Jimin’s talking to him easily, hands swinging between them as they walk down the street. He’s letting himself almost relax, looking at Jimin from the corner of his eye and smiling faintly.

“Jimin-ah!” 

They both turn towards the voice. It’s unfamiliar to Jungkook, but Jimin’s face brightens in recognition and he drops Jungkook’s hand, heading for the girl who’d yelled his name. 

“Minjee-noona! How have you been?” 

It’s a coworker, from what Jungkook gathers. They make some chit chat, Jungkook sitting there, hands in his pockets, until the girl turns her eyes on Jungkook and asks, “And this must be the boyfriend!” 

They both still. The drifting clouds themselves seem to get nailed into place with those words.  

Jungkook doesn’t want to assume. He doesn’t, he—he could never impose that on Jimin, when Jimin is the one who needs to take the lead here. 

He looks at him, ready to follow what he says, heart trembling. He looks a little shocked, a little scared. Jungkook wants to hold his hand again, but would that be too boyfriend? 

She’s looking between them, smiling, oblivious. 

“Um. This is my best friend,” Jimin ends up saying. 

It’s not a lie, but it makes Jungkook’s stomach sink anyway. “Um. Hi.” 

“Oh! Sorry,” she says. “Just I thought I saw—nevermind, nevermind.” 

She says more things, but Jungkook stops listening. He’s biting at his lip insistently, brain whirring like the fan of an old struggling laptop. 

How horrible, that stab of disappointment. He rubs at his chest, presses down on it nervously. How can the words best friend feel like a slap to the face? 

He is Jimin’s best friend. Has been since they were tiny. How can that not be enough to him, suddenly, especially when Jimin’s going through something? 

Greedy, greedy. 

Eventually, they’re left alone. 

The distance between them seemed so small before, but now it’s a chasm. 

“Who’s she?” Jungkook asks, trying to restore some normalcy. 

“Coworker,” Jimin mumbles. “I mean, ex-coworker.”

Usually he’d say more. He’d tell Jungkook stories about her, details, make him laugh. Jungkook can almost see that future splinter into existence, verging off from the version of reality when that question was never asked. 

In this one, Jimin just looks away from him in awkward silence. 

“Right.” Jungkook’s hands are still in his pockets. 

Ex-coworker. Not even someone in Jimin’s life currently. It’s not like their friends, who they see every week, who know them and might tease them or question them. This person has no stake in Jimin’s life—he might never see her again. 

And still, he wouldn’t call Jungkook—

It’s fine. They haven’t talked about it. It’s fine, they’ll get there, don’t be greedy. It’s fine, it’s fine. 

Jungkook stumbles out of bed way into the afternoon, to the beautiful sight of Jimin sitting at his kitchen table. 

He’d left the keys out for him, in case he wanted to come back after uni, and it seems like he had. The thought makes Jungkook giddy, and he jogs over to him to drape himself over Jimin’s back, tucks his chin on his shoulder to look at the notes scattered all over the table. “How was class?” 

“Exhausting,” Jimin says with a little sigh. “I need a break.” 

His phone lights up with a calendar notification and Jimin frowns at it, opens it up to delete it. 

His background is the sunset on the sea, and Jungkook instantly gets an idea. 

“Mmm, maybe we can go away for the weekend?” Jungkook proposes, nosing into Jimin’s neck. “To the beach?” 

Back when things were good, when Jungkook’s dad cared, they’d take them all to the beach for the afternoon, Jungkook and Jimin and Jimin’s brother. They would try to lose him, to make fun of him, to stay by themselves, because theirs was a party of two, complete already. 

They haven’t done that yet, in the after. Jungkook wants to, suddenly, now that it’s occurred to him, wants to very badly. 

“You can finally wear your sliders in public and have it be appropriate. And that brimmed hat that makes you look like a pensioner. Not this weekend but maybe the next?” he asks, unlocking his own phone to check when his days off are in the notes app. His own background is that picture they took when they were drunk and close and cosy, and Jungkook can’t get enough of it. “Yeah, that should work.” 

Jimin doesn’t respond for a second, just looks down at his notes until Jungkook drops a kiss to his neck. He unfreezes then, reaches out a hand to Jungkook’s cheek, to slip into his hair. He half turns around, pulls him in for a kiss, and Jungkook hums and smiles and gives in easily. 

They don’t end up planning the trip that day, since they’re otherwise occupied, but it’s okay, Jungkook tells himself as Jimin kisses him into the mattress. They can come back to it.  

They don’t leave the bed for a long time. Jungkook takes his sweet time to make sure Jimin’s relaxes, melts into the sheets and lets go of everything that’s stressing him out. That he sighs it out into the air, expelling it, when Jungkook bites his thigh softly, that he moans it out when Jungkook closes his mouth around him, that he grinds and squirms and leaves it all behind. 

He makes dinner out of what little there is in his fridge, and Jimin digs into it gratefully, looking a bit looser. Jungkook kisses his neck and mumbles, shower. 

He worries, when Jimin’s not there. He worries they’re slipping away from each other, that Jimin’s drowning in regret and doesn’t know how to say it, but then Jimin lets Jungkook kiss him, hugs him back, and Jungkook’s worry eases. 

Jungkook comes out of the shower, to find Jimin lacing up his shoes. 

“Where are you going?” He sits himself behind Jimin on the bed, slips his hands around his stomach. 

“I have an early class tomorrow.” 

“So? I’ll wake you up.” He presses a kiss to his shoulder, sweet, sweet. 

Jimin gives him a flat look. “You won’t.” 

“I could!” 

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin groans, and it’s a no, Jungkook knows it’s a no, and there’s that niggling worry again. “Your place is so much farther from campus.” 

Never stopped you in all these weeks, Jungkook wants to say. “What if I come over to yours?” 

“You’ll come over with me all the way there just to sleep and not even see me in the morning? I know you have the earlier shift this week.” 

He’s making sense, but Jungkook isn’t governed by sense, right now. He pouts.

Jimin dips in for a kiss, an apology. “Don’t be like that, hm? I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

When, when, when. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. He finds a smile somewhere, and Jimin seems to be convinced, dropping another kiss on his cheek and getting up for good. 

jk
how boring was class?
scale of one to hearing jin-hyung
recounting his fishing trips beat by beat

jiminie hyung

would take at least three 

jin-hyung fishing stories over this class

exhausting :( will go to bed
before ten rn like a grandpa 

jk
you’re home already?

i thought you were coming over?

jiminie hyung
sorry kook i’m just too beat

i would just fall asleep the
moment i arrived 

i’ll see you soon, ok? <3 

jk

yeah

shouldn’t deprive the elderly
of their rest, I guess

<3

hey, you want to go watch a movie? :)

hyung? 

jiminie hyung
sorry, sorry, saw this and
forgot to respond

i promised joon-hyung i’d 
hang out today, i’m sorry :( 

jk

it’s okay!

tomorrow?

jiminie hyung

maybe

I’ll let you know, okay? 

jk

sure

He doesn’t check back in the next day, and Jungkook doesn’t text first. It takes another whole day for Jimin to show real signs of life, texting something about the weekend.

And okay, maybe he just had an insanely busy week.

Or maybe, Jungkook thinks, dread pulling in his stomach, they’re just on borrowed time. 

Jimin hugs him when he sees him outside the movie theater. He smiles, and Jungkook smiles back, despite everything. 

“Let’s go! I bought our tickets already,” he says, dragging Jungkook over to the concession stand. 

It’s an action film, and Jungkook doesn’t care very much at all. As soon as he sits down, he turns himself to Jimin and asks, “How have you been?” 

“Ugh, torn into a million little pieces,” he says, popping some popcorn into his mouth. “Class has been incredibly heavy lately with exams coming up and everything, and at work they keep trying to load me with more shifts, and it’s like—at any other time, I’d take it, you know? I need the money, but—” 

Jungkook listens and listens, playing with the straw of his coke. Jimin goes on for a while, and Jungkook’s mind wanders to the last time they were here, Jimin leaned in and kissed him for a long time, ignoring the movie completely. He’s waiting for the moment it happens again. 

It doesn’t. Jimin stops talking as soon as the trailers start, patting Jungkook on the knee to get him to turn around and pay attention. 

Jungkook waits, but the movie goes on, and Jimin just watches carefully, getting through his popcorn and then picking through some of Jungkook’s as well.

Jungkook lets him have it. He sips on his coke, eyes on the screen and brain far away. 

He doesn’t hold Jungkook’s hand on the way back. Instead, he slings an arm over his shoulders, and talks about the movie, seeming not to notice how little Jungkook participates in the conversation. 

They reach Jungkook’s building, and Jimin’s still reviewing the movie. 

“And then the end was predictable, obviously, but still—” 

“Are you coming up?” Jungkook asks, internally wincing for interrupting. 

Jimin blinks. His hand drops off Jungkook’s shoulders, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket, checks the time. “Um…” 

Jungkook’s holding his breath. 

“Sure, for a bit.” Jimin smiles at him, and something in Jungkook unclenches a little. 

“Okay,” he says with a faint smile of his own, and lets them in. 

He brings out the wine and they sit on the couch, facing each other. Their knees are touching. Jungkook’s got an arm over the back of the couch, his head lying on it, eyes on Jimin as he recounts the last action movie he watched at the cinema, almost scene for scene. 

He’s so cute. He’s got the wine glass in hand, sloshing it around as he gesticulates, and Jungkook’s just waiting for the moment when he spills it on the couch. 

“So yeah,” Jimin concludes after a while. “I guess they’re all a little bit the same, right?” 

“I thought you liked romance movies,” Jungkook mumbles around a yawn. 

Jimin takes a swig of his wine, and then looks at it, twirling it around in the glass. “Yeah. I do.” 

“There was one showing today,” Jungkook says, remembering the poster he’d looked at as they waited for the popcorn of two people locked in a passionate embrace. “Why didn’t you get tickets to that?” 

“You don’t like that kind of thing,” Jimin says with a shrug. 

“I like you,” Jungkook says, before he can really think about it. He freezes as soon as his own words register in his brain, and then forces himself to not react, to not take it back. It’s true, anyway. Jimin knows it’s true. He told him, when they started this. That’s why they started this. 

Only now Jungkook’s realising Jimin never said back. 

Jimin flushes, cheeks reddening instantly. He draws his eyes away from Jungkook, taking a breath. 

“Maybe next time, then, hm?” He takes another sip of his wine. 

He wants Jimin to go, suddenly. It’s so instant, embarrassment tangling up with that anxiety he’s been trying to shove away, all mixing in a horrible cocktail that just makes Jungkook nauseous. 

It’s as if Jimin hears him. 

“You look tired,” he says, reaching out and running a hand through his hair gently. It’s so brief, there and gone, before Jungkook can enjoy the sensation. “I’ll let you go to bed.” 

He gets up, moving over by the door to put on his shoes. Jungkook doesn’t move. 

Jimin turns around after he puts his coat on. He looks like he’s thinking about it for a second, and Jungkook just pierces him with a look, still, to see what he’ll do. 

Kiss me, Jungkook’s chanting in his mind. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, stay with me, kiss me— 

Jimin walks over to the couch. He runs his hands through Jungkook’s hair again, pulling it away from his face, and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well, Kook.” 

Jungkook’s eyes slip shut for a second, the tenderness of the action clashing hard with the disappointment flaring in his chest. 

Jimin slips out the door, and Jungkook stays on the couch, knees pulled to his chest for a long time. 

They see each other at dinner the next week, only a couple texts exchanged in the meantime. Jimin’s smile is a little strained as he comes over to hug him, but no one but Jungkook notices. 

Jimin doesn’t even sit next to him at the table. He’s sandwiched between Hoseok and Namjoon, deep into conversation with them and barely throwing a look over to him. 

He doesn’t ask him to come home with Jungkook, after. He squeezes his arm in goodbye and gets out in a rush, running off to who knows where. 

He barely acknowledged him today. They’ve never been like this, this air of awkwardness and uncertainty hanging around them, using others as buffers. 

Jungkook swallows down that knot in his throat and walks home in the cold, the path familiar and mindless by now.

The bus is empty, so he goes and sits all the way in the back, in the higher seats, where the shuddering and clanking of it is less noticeable. He hugs himself and stares out the window, thinking, thinking. 

His heart leaps when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He rushes to slide it out, making things harder for himself in the process. What if he hangs up? Fuck, quick, quick, quick—

Oh. 

“Hey, Jin-hyung.” 

“You forgot your jacket here. Right on my couch. Right next to the door. While it is below zero outside. Tell me how that’s possible.” 

Huh? Jungkook looks down at himself, just to confirm, but he is literally wearing his jacket. “No, I didn’t.” 

“I recognise it, Jungkook, don’t take me for a fool. I’ve seen you wear it a thousand times.” 

“I’m telling you I literally have my jacket on right now—” 

Ah. 

“It…it’s probably Jimin-hyung’s.” 

Of course. He left like he was being chased, just to avoid lingering with Jungkook, to avoid coming home with him. He ran away so fast he forgot the jacket. Fuck, he’ll get sick. He gets sick so easily. 

“It’s not Jimin’s size. I know this is yours.” 

“Yeah, but I probably gave it to him.” Definitely. It was last time Jimin had come over for the weekend, over a month ago by this point, when it had been nice and sunny when he arrived on Friday only for Monday morning to bring wind and pouring rain, so Jungkook had graciously offered his jacket. 

He’d felt that cliche squirming satisfaction at seeing Jimin wear it.  Jimin had kissed him in thanks. 

Fuck, that might have even been the last time. 

Great. All he needs is to cry on the bus over a jacket, with Jin on the phone insisting on exposing him. 

“You gifted him your jacket?” 

“Hyung, it’s not mine. I mean, it is, but I’m not the one who forgot it. So call Jimin-hyung, okay?” 

“He’s not with you?” 

Wounds, meet salt. “No. Why would he be.” 

“Because you always leave together.” 

“We don’t always.” 

“Uh, pretty much always.”

“You saw him leave first.” 

“Yeah, but—” 

“He is not here. He’s probably home. Or maybe not home, what do I know. Maybe he’s got other plans, with other friends.” Maybe he’s hooking up with someone. Maybe he’s calling Taehyung to get back together, and when they meet Taehyung will coo at him and say Jimin-ah, where’s your jacket? and he’ll give him his, and it will look even bigger on him, because of Taehyung’s stupid broad shoulders. It will be softer, too, because he wears soft fabrics, because he has a real job, not peddling ramen that can only afford him one thick winter jacket, second-hand and obviously worn, to forget on Jin’s fucking couch. 

“Jungkook?” 

“What.” He blinks back into reality. He looks outside and realises he almost missed his stop, so he rushes to get up to the bus doors. The driver throws him a disapproving look as he breaks, and the forced nature of it makes Jungkook jolt to the side, barely hanging on to his balance. 

“Are you there or am I talking to air right now?” 

“I’m here, I’m here.” 

He stumbles off the bus, and the door shut behind him with a judgy noise. He pulls his collar up and walks towards home, his hand already freezing where he’s holding on to this phone. 

“Okay, so thank you for solving the jacket mystery with me. Another successful case for detective Jin. You have been a key witness.” 

Jungkook huffs. “Sure, hyung.” 

“So, I should return it to Jimin, right?” 

Jungkook doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if Jimin wants it. Doesn’t know if Jimin needs it anymore. 

He tries texting him again, and gets politely brushed off. He even calls once, and Jimin picks up all worried, but finds an excuse as soon as he realises Jungkook doesn't actually need anything.

He doesn't even come to dinner next week. Everyone asks Jungkook about it, and he has to admit he's just as lost as they are. 

His apartment feels twice the size, now. It feels empty without Jimin here. His favourite mug is sitting unused in the cupboard for weeks now. Jungkook hasn't touched it at all, same as the book that Jimin had forgotten here, on his coffee table. They're there, to keep Jungkook company, all that's left of Jimin. 

In the endless empty hours, he thinks until it turns to overthinking until it turns to wanting to knock himself out just to stop it. 

He's replayed every single moment in his mind a thousand times, trying to see where he went wrong. In the end, it all comes down to one thing.

He should never have let Jimin kiss him, that first time. 

He should have pushed him away, if not that night, then definitely the next morning. He shouldn't have pulled him closer, shouldn't have whispered sweet words into his mouth—he should have just kept them all for himself and been a friend, been there to hug and to comfort and to help Jimin get back out there with someone with a clean slate. 

Instead, he’d been selfish and stupid, thinking he was ever going to get what he dreamed of. 

He wanted too much, so he failed them both. 

He can’t just let it go on like this. He needs to talk to him. He needs to speak to clear things up, see where they stand. 

If Jimin doesn’t love him the same, he can—

He can take it. He’ll need some time, maybe a lot of fucking time, but he can take it, if it means not losing Jimin completely. 

He remembers how Jimin had reacted to Hoseok mentioning Taehyung, and he thinks he knows what Jimin’s answer’s going to be. 

He needs to try anyway. 

He just needs to find the guts to do it, and no time like the present, right?

It’s Jimin’s birthday, and he’s throwing a party at his house. 

He didn’t really have money for a big present, but he bought him a nice cake, and he printed out his favourite photo of them—the one that’s still the background on his phone. He bought a nice frame for it, one that would go nicely in Jimin’s living room, and he wrapped it up carefully. 

It’s stupid, but it feels like he’s wrapping up his own heart. 

He arrives when the party’s already in full swing, music reaching the hallway. 

Jimin opens the door with a smile, like nothing's amiss, and makes to step back to let Jungkook in. 

“Jungkook-ah, hey!” 

He gets up on his tip toes and throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook wraps his free arm, the one that’s not holding the gifts, around Jimin’s waist and hugs him tightly. 

He looks so pretty. He’s got some light makeup on, skin tight jeans and a white t-shirt, rings and necklaces on. He looks at the gift in Jungkook’s hands and his eyes widen. “You shouldn’t have!” 

“Don’t be silly,” Jungkook mutters. 

Jimin grabs the things from his hands and moves towards the kitchen. “Let me put this in the fridge! Do you want a beer?” 

“Sure,” Jungkook says, following him.  

“Lots of people already,” Jungkook comments as they make their way there. His hyungs are all there—Jungkook recognises a couple people from Jimin’s work, a few others that look like they’re students, and the rest of them are a mystery to him, but they seem happy enough, swaying to the music. 

“Yeah!” Jimin says with a grin. “Almost everyone came.” He opens the fridge and gingerly places the cake inside, pulling out a beer and handing it over. When he closes the fridge door, familiar photos look back at them, but one catches Jungkook’s eye immediately. 

It’s Jimin and Taehyung, cheeks pressed together. Jungkook knows this one. It was the background of Jimin’s laptop. He remembers how seeing it had been a punch to the chest. 

Not much has changed, has it? 

He closes his eyes for a second, trying to contain the sour feeling that’s starting to spread all over him. The beer is cold against his skin. 

“Come on,” Jimin says, dragging him towards the unofficial dance floor. “Everyone’s in there.” 

He herds him over to where Yoongi and Seokjin are, and they all make chit chat for a while, beers in hand, until Jimin’s whisked away to answer the door again. 

Jungkook goes through his beer, and then another. He didn’t come here for a party. He came for one reason only. 

It takes him about five drinks to work up the courage to do it. That picture from the fridge is burned against the back of his eyelids. 

“Hyung, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Jimin turns to him from where he was fiddling over the spotify playlist. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, like a liar. “Just, quickly? On the balcony, maybe?” 

“Sure,” Jimin says, eyebrows knitting together in worry. At least he still worries about him. 

They slide the door closed behind them and the noise of the party instantly gets muffled, blessedly. 

They’re sitting down close to the bars, and Jungkook doesn’t know where to start this. The passing cars are loud below them, and it grates at Jungkook's nerves. They can never escape the noise of the city, not even this high up. 

“Everything alright? It’s not too rowdy, is it?” Jimin asks, when he sees Jungkook needs some help to get going. 

“No, no,” he says. “It’s a good party. That’s not why—um. I wanted to talk about something, for a second.” 

He takes a deep breath, trying to get his thoughts in order. 

He’s been trying for days, and really, it’s hopeless—there’s no way he can say everything how he wants to say it. Better out and clumsy than kept inside and festering. 

“I just noticed that lately, things have been a bit…different. I don’t really know why, because it seems like it—I mean, I thought everything was going well, you know. And then one day, you just kind of…took a step back. And it kept going and going, and now I don’t know where—I don’t know what we’re doing, anymore.” 

Jimin keeps looking down at the street, on alert, and Jungkook can't pretend not to notice anymore, his mind a constant chanting of borrowed time borrowed time borrowed time . 

“Hyung,” he says, harshly. 

Jimin jolts, like he’s being woken from a sleep. “Yes.” 

Jungkook’s sadness has melted away, replaced with abject fury. "I’m sorry, am I bothering you?"

Jimin frowns. He grabs the rail in his fist, squeezes. His fingers turn white. “Why would you say that?”

"You haven't heard a word I've said this whole time. You just keep staring down there. Are you waiting for someone?" 

"We're nine floors up, Jungkook-ah. I'd have to be pretty eagle eyed to spot anyone from here," Jimin says. He turns to look at Jungkook and smiles placatingly, even though he looks nervous at Jungkook’s anger. "And you know I'm in denial about needing glasses, hm? Remember the other day, when—"

Jungkook really can't, anymore. "Hyung, why don't you go to him?"

The smile is wiped off instantly. "Why would I..?" 

He doesn't even try to pretend he doesn't know what Jungkook's talking about. That's good, at least, right? That he's not lying in Jungkook's face? 

"The whole time we were together, it was like you were holding your breath—that’s why, isn’t it? You’re just waiting for him to come back. Don't," he says, when Jimin was about to interrupt him, "lie to me. I know you."

Jungkook can't look at him, so he focuses his eyes on the one apartment across the street with the lights on, an orange square swallowed up by a big black one. Who knows how many people it houses. 

"I told you why I can't go to him," Jimin says, carefully. Reservedly.

"Pride." 

"It's not pride, it's—"

"It's pride, and fear, and bitterness, hyung." He sounds really mad, and that's good too—better than the desperate, scared little kid he feels like right now. 

"Jungkook!"

He shakes his head and soldiers on. "You're too hurt he was the one to end things. You want him back, but you're scared he's going to reject you. You don't want to be the one looking for him first, but you can't let go." He feels out of breath.

"Are you done telling me how I feel?"

"I'm telling you what I see." He looks up. "Hyung, I told you how I feel." 

Jimin's expression goes from surprise to embarrassment in a split second. 

Embarrassment. How does Jungkook take that? How's he meant to fit that into his idea of what they could be to each other, if Jimin is embarrassed to hear about Jungkook's feelings?

"You did," Jimin mutters. 

Jungkook nods. "When I told you that, it wasn't to ask you for anything. It was just—" 

"I know."

"You were the one that kissed me," Jungkook says, hushed now, hurt. "You were the one who slept in my bed and held me and kissed me, when you knew." You knew how I felt, how I wanted, how I got there first and waited and waited and waited and didn't even ask for this. "And I trusted you." 

Emotion is rising wildly up his throat, choking and choking him.

"It's not fair, Jimin-hyung. You know I…" Jungkook takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't deserve this."

He focuses his eyes on a figure one floor down, a moving shadow against the lit up apartment. 

"And you don't deserve to be miserable with someone you don't want when your heart still belongs somewhere else." He sniffs. "So."

When Jimin reaches out to hold his hand, he lets him. 

"I'm not miserable." It's pathetic, really. He sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than Jungkook. Doesn't he know Jungkook can tell, after all these years?  

"Don't lie."

"Not with you," Jimin insists. "Not because of you, Jungkook-ah. You always make me feel so good."

Jungkook's been trying really hard not to cry, and that almost breaks him. Still, it’s not fair. "Well, it makes me feel like shit to know you’re only with me because you can’t be with him."

Jimin shuffles closer. "No, no," he says, trying to catch Jungkook's eye. When that doesn't work, he leans in and wraps his arms around him. He tries to tuck Jungkook's head into his neck, but Jungkook stays still. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't," Jungkook says, and a tear finally escapes now that Jimin's not looking, because he feels like Jimin's taken a knife to his heart.

"Jungkook-ah," Jimin tries again. He doesn't notice how Jungkook's bleeding. "I'm not just doing this to forget him." He has a hand in Jungkook's hair, running through it, scratching at his nape. Jungkook thinks it's to soothe Jimin himself more than him. 

"But you're not doing this because you love me,'' Jungkook says, and his voice cracks. 

The silence is all it takes for the knife to plunge in deep, deep, deep, and settle, finding its place. After weeks and weeks of tiny cut after tiny cut, uncertain and clumsy, it's finally sheathed where it was meant to go all along. 

"I..."  He sounds so lost, Jungkook almost wants to comfort him. Almost. "I do —"

"Stop."  

Jungkook pulls away, gently but decisively. Jimin looks unmoored now that he's not holding on to him. 

Time he caught up.

"I think..." He takes a breath. Calm down, he thinks. You can let go when you're alone. "I'll go now." 

"Jungkook." He stands up when Jungkook does, following two steps behind as Jungkook reaches for the sliding door. "Don't leave like this." 

Jungkook pauses, his back to Jimin. "If I stay, then what?" He holds his breath, hoping for something. A touch, a word that can point to a future for them. 

Jimin is silent.

Jungkook can tell even without looking that it's killing him to not reach out to him right now. 

He wants Jimin to cling to him and beg him to stay. He's thankful he's letting him call the shots. He's heartbroken, and he's grateful, and he's dizzy, and he just wants to be alone to cry.

A shuddering breath from Jimin seals it.

"Happy birthday, hyung," is the last thing he says to him before he spills out into the room, bleeding bleeding bleeding.

The noise booms in his ears violently, and he grabs his coat and bag as quickly as humanly possible—he needs out, now. 

He thought he knew what alone was when Jimin left him, when he was sixteen. He thought he knew what it was when his dad yelled and yelled and threw things that only just about missed and he scampered into his room to hide. He thought he knew what it was on the train to Seoul, hugging his backpack to his chest, hurtling towards a city brimming with people, but none of them his. 

This, now, is a new kind of alone. The kind of alone that only comes when you offer up your heart to someone, trusting, trusting, and they leave it on a shelf, collecting dust. The kind that comes when you have to walk back into their house, look them in the eyes you love so much, and take it back all by yourself, press it to your chest and shove it right back in, and try to make it fit again, when you know it's fucking hopeless.

Heartbreak is too light a word, for this kind of alone. 

────────

There's unanswered texts clogging up his phone. Jungkook sees the notifications, but doesn’t bother to even check who they’re from before he swipes them away. 

He knows it’s not his bosses, because through some miracle, the shop will be closed for the next three weeks, since they’re visiting family. Small blessings—Jungkook has three weeks to get himself back to a state where he can drag himself to work. 

There's a knock on his door, and Jungkook tenses. He doesn't want it to be him. He wants it more than anything. 

The voice that comes a second later isn't Jimin's. 

"Open up, kid, or I'm calling the police." 

"Yoongi-yah!" A familiar scolding tone. "The police doesn't give a shit about neighbourhoods like this. We're on our own here." 

"Jungkook," Yoongi says again, knocking insistently. "Open up." 

Jungkook does. He unlocks the door and opens it a crack, not bothering to do it fully. He shuffles back towards the bed and lies on it, back to the door.

"Okay," Seokjin says as they enter. "Not the worst I've seen." 

He heads over to the tiny kitchen and opens the window that sees to the wall of the opposite building, and then he does the same with the tiny window over Jungkook's desk. 

Yoongi walks over to the bed, sitting down next to him. 

"Do you want to tell us or should we tell you?" 

Jungkook shrugs. 

"Us it is," Seokjin says, now shuffling over to the tiny kitchen again and clanking things. Probably preparing a drink for himself. "Go on, Yoongi-yah." 

"First of all, everyone thinks you're dead," Yoongi says. "A week without any signs of life at all. Don't do that again." 

"I'm fine." 

"This time." 

Jungkook hears the worry in his voice, remembers the way he looked at him when Jungkook woke up from the heavy, dizzy sleep after the hospital. 

"I just needed to be alone." 

He's alone anyway, so giving into it fully seemed like the only right thing to do. 

"Right. About that." 

Jungkook buries his head deeper into the pillow. 

“Jimin’s really worried.” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Yoongi goes on. 

"He's the one that asked us to come over and check on you. He's beside himself, but he thought you wouldn't want to see him."

He's right, and he's also laughably wrong. Jungkook wants it all. 

"He's doing pretty shit himself, you know." 

Despite it all, Jungkook hurts to hear that. It all started, all this, because he didn't want Jimin to be in pain, and now here they are. 

"What do you want me to do about it," Jungkook mutters. 

A pause, a sigh from Seokjin, and then he's sitting on the bed too. 

"Can I tell you what I think is going on, Jungkook-ah? And then you can confirm and deny for me." 

Jungkook shrugs. What does it matter, anyway. 

“You like Jimin, and you two had a thing going recently.” 

“What,” comes a disbelieving exclamation from Yoongi. 

“Shush,” Seokjin says. “How am I doing so far?” 

Jungkook nods. 

"Oh." 

“Right,” Seokjin says, pride creeping into his voice. “But now something's obviously happened, except neither of you are talking about it. I am going to go ahead and assume," he says, poking Jungkook's back, "that you broke things off for some reason, and now you're both languishing heartbroken in your beds and slowly decomposing." 

“Where are you getting all that from—” 

"He doesn't love me." 

"What?" 

"That's what happened. He's still hang up on Taehyung, and he doesn't love me. He knows I love him, but he's only with me— was only with me—because he didn't want to be alone." 

Jungkook's eyes flood with tears. "I couldn't ignore it forever." 

A hand comes and rests on Jungkook's back. 

"Oh."

Eventually, Yoongi gets up from the bed. Seokjin stays, running his hands over Jungkook's back soothingly as Jungkook cries and cries, quiet sniffling and loud gasping breaths. 

Yoongi cooks, and they drag him up, get him to eat.

 “Jungkook, you should know,” Yoongi starts. 

“Yoongi,” Jin says firmly in warning.

“He should know, hyung.” 

Jungkook looks up from where he’d been shoving food idly around in his plate, pretending to eat. “Tell me.” 

Whatever it is, can it possibly be worse than right now? 

Yoongi turns to him and says, “Jimin is meeting Taehyung today.” 

It’s like the floor opens up below him. His stomach swoops in that horrible way, like he was on an elevator in the top floor and the cables just went snap, hurtling down and down and down. 

“I don’t know why, but—” 

“I know why,” Jungkook says with a bitter laugh. The meager quantity of food he’d managed to get down is clawing its way back up, it feels like. “Of course he is. It was only a matter of time.” 

He ungracefully shoves his chair back and rushes to the bathroom, desperate to not be seen as he cries over this again, even though they know. 

This is it. It just confirms it. They’re going to get back together because Taehyung is who Jimin really wants. Jungkook was right. He knew he was, but now it’s for sure and he hates himself for seeing it coming and doing fucking nothing to protect himself. 

He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have told Jimin. He shouldn’t have let Jimin kiss him, or let them go on, or revel in the thrill of it, dream up domestic little fantasies. Jungkook knows his luck, doesn’t he? He comes from broken, he’ll have to live with broken. There’s no moving up. There’s no changing destiny. 

He just thought Jimin might break this curse for him. 

Jin and Yoongi stay, trading worried looks with each other, until Jungkook says he wants to sleep. 

"Answer our texts so we know you're not dead, okay?" Seokjin says. 

Jungkook nods. 

Yoongi steps forward and hugs him. Jungkook hugs him back, and then Seokjin wraps his arms around both of them. 

"It's not forever, this feeling," Yoongi says over Jungkook's shoulder. 

Jungkook repeats that to himself, eyes shut tightly, deep into the night. 

He changes his phone background to a picture of the sky, but he can’t bear to delete the photos from his gallery yet. He knows he’ll have to, eventually. But right now, he needs it, the proof that Jimin was there. With him, close and giggly and lovely. 

He mutes the group chat completely, something he should have done a while ago. He has Jimin blocked since almost the beginning, a useless gesture, a flimsy armour made of paper. 

The days pass slowly. His apartment is disgusting, so he does the absolute bare minimum. He eats frozen meal after frozen meal, things he’d stashed in his tiny freezer, and they barely go down. 

Jin is persistent. Even when Jungkook doesn’t answer him, he comes over and cooks, leaves leftovers like when Jungkook was recovering. 

One night, he comes with a purpose. 

“You’re going to get it all out.” 

Jungkook looks at him. “What.” 

“This has gone on for long enough, Jungkook. You need to go to work soon, don’t you? You need to join the real world again. And everyone knows that a key break-up stage is getting shit-faced with your best friend and trashing your ex.” 

“He’s not my ex,” Jungkook mutters. “We never officially dated.” 

“I see you’re not denying us being best friends,” Jin says as he pours some kind of unlabeled alcohol that will probably taste like rocket fuel into Jungkook’s glass. “That’s good. You’d have broken my heart.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and grabs the glass. 

They clink, and it begins. 

I just don’t understand why he would kiss me when he knew how I felt, if he didn’t feel the same. Why. Hyung, why?

He encouraged me! I thought he wanted it. I thought he’d get where I was, if I just waited. 

He’s just beautiful and funny and perfect and cute and I thought he could want me? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot I am. 

Some of it he says out loud and some is just desperate thoughts, but Jin says, 

“Jungkook-ah, you’re doing this all wrong.” 

“Huh?” 

“This isn’t pining hour. You went through this. This evening is meant to shove you into the anger stage. Trash talking your ex, remember? Your non-ex, whatever.” 

“I don’t want to trash talk him,” Jungkook says. “I just want to talk about him.” 

“Well, if you won’t, then I will.” He knocks back his glass like it’s water, though he’s starting to get flushed. “He acted so fucking irresponsibly with you.”

"Hyung…"

"He knew how you felt. He knew he wasn't over his ex-boyfriend, and he still went into the rebound with you. His best friend. Damn near exploiting you."

"Don't talk like that. "

"He's the one who did it!" He downs the shot easily. "Look, I love the kid. But I'm so fucking angry at him."

Jungkook is confused. "But he was your friend first. "

"So?" 

"Shouldn't you be on his side?"

"You're my friend too. Best friend, remember? Now, Yoongi would call me ridiculous for declaring best friendship so close to thirty, but Yoongi has never had that joie de vivre that I overflow with. We balance each other. That's why we work."

Jungkook huffs a laugh. 

"So, Jimin is wrong. Yes, he was hurting, but he was still wrong. And the only reason why I haven't scolded him about it is because I'm leaving that to you first. By rights."

"I did." 

"Huh?"

Jungkook sighs, runs a hand through his hair. It’s greasy and gross. He hasn’t showered in three days. “At his birthday, when we…not broke up, but…you know. I told him. That it wasn’t fair to me. That he shouldn’t have done all of this when he knew how I felt, when I didn’t ask—” He takes a shaky breath. He hasn’t cried in days, but it’s climbing back up again. “I just told him I liked him because he needed to know. He needed to hear it. He was so sad, saying that no one would ever love him again, but that’s so stupid, because I love him.” He brings his hand to his chest, hitting it once. “ I love him. I’ve loved him since we were kids, and then when he left me, I still loved him, and when I found him again, even more. Even more, then. Do I not count? Do I not count for shit?” 

There’s that anger Jin was talking about. It’s here, and it’s burning him alive. 

“He’s fucking everything, how could he do this to me, hyung? He just up and left me like that, not a word, for two years! If I hadn’t come looking, would he have ever cared to look for me again? Would he have just left me to rot back home with my dad and his booze until I just set fire to the fucking house once and for all?” He can’t breathe. “How could he fucking do this to me? His best friend, his—” 

His, his, his what? 

Nothing. 

He hugs his knees to his chest, hides his face away. Jin moves to the couch next to him and puts an arm around him as he pants and pants and pants and tries to find air again.

After Jin’s visit, other than a hungover, he has yet another thorn in his heart. 

Anger doesn’t last very long. Jungkook was never an angry person—which is hilarious, considering who his dad is. The gene must have never got passed down. 

It burns bright and flares out quickly, leaving ashes behind. Ashes that darken everything, making a mess of Jungkook’s counters, mind and heart. 

He can’t have a single thought untouched by bitterness. He thinks of Jimin all the time and feels something in him twist, something that used to be so vibrant and lovely and innocent. 

Jin’s words circle in his brain endlessly, too. Irresponsible. He was right. That was almost a nice way of putting it. 

Jungkook doesn’t think Jimin had bad intentions. He’d never exploit Jungkook just for the thrill of it, just to make himself feel better. He’s not a bad person—he’s good, down to the bones of him. That has just always been true.

So there must be another reason. 

He needs to leave his house eventually, because he’s running out of groceries. 

He gets dressed with whatever he finds, shoves a beanie onto his head to hide his unwashed hair, and braves the outside world, just wanting some ramen. 

But because he’s lucky, he meets the very last person in the world he wants to see. 

Taehyung’s standing there in the supermarket ramen aisle, looking clean and put together and everything Jungkook isn’t. 

They lock eyes, and Jungkook freezes. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” Jungkook says. It has always been awkward with him—they’ve never shared an easy moment, Jungkook trying to keep his biting jealousy at bay and Taehyung…god knows what. Maybe he saw through him. Maybe he just didn’t like him. 

He reaches for his usual brand and tries to make a swift escape, but Taehyung won’t just let it drop. 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Alright.” It feels like swallowing gravel. “You?” 

"Fine.”

And now they’re just staring each other in the empty aisle. Why is this supermarket so empty? 

“I saw Jimin the other day." Taehyung doesn’t notice the way Jungkook’s hands tighten on the packet. "I assume he told you." 

Jungkook shakes his head. Must he gloat now too? Jungkook didn’t think he’d be like that.

"Oh? I thought you'd be the first to know."

"We…don't talk anymore." 

Taehyung frowns. "What do you mean?" 

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. Why is he discussing this with Taehyung, of all people? Why doesn’t Taehyung know, since he and Jimin tell each other everything? "We had a fight." 

"Fuck, I should have known,” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. He throws the pack of ramen he was holding on the basket and it lands with a crinkle and a thud. “Understand what he was feeling. I thought he meant for me, but I guess that tracks, doesn't it?" 

Jungkook doesn't want to hear this. The last thing he wants in this world is to hear about Taehyung and Jimin’s back together conversation. He makes to go, says, “I’ll just—” 

Taehyung holds on to his sleeve, keeping him in place. Jungkook wants to tug himself away, but he feels frozen. 

"What are you doing?" 

"You should know," Taehyung spits out, "I knew me and Jimin were over the minute I saw you look at each other for the first time."

“What do you mean over?” He frowns. “Aren't you back together?” 

Taehyung laughs, a hollow, bitter, awful thing. “Are you serious?” He goes on without waiting for an answer.  "The moment you walked back into his life, there was no space for him to love anyone else." Taehyung says it with such conviction, like it's the only thing he knows to be true. 

He can’t have this right. “But, when you talked—” 

"I told him the real reason I broke up with him was you." 

Fuck. 

Fuck, no. 

"I was excited to meet you, you know.” Taehyung goes on, still holding on to Jungkook’s sleeve. “He talked about you all the time. It's like he didn't have a single other happy childhood memory, except for the ones with you in them. Talked about coming back for you someday, when he had the means to get you out. You know we haven’t gone on a single weekend away together for two years, because he’s been putting his money aside for that?” 

Jungkook’s knees feel weak. Absurdly, Taehyung’s grip on him is helping to keep him upright. 

“When you strolled back in, I thought, hey, now we can start living our lives. He can move on without having a foot in the past.” He brings his finger up. “Two weeks. After one year and a half together, I convinced him to go away with me for two weeks and we spent half of it fighting because you got hurt and he wanted to rush back to your side.” 

“I…” 

Fuck, what does he even say?

It’s all starting to make sense, with Taehyung’s words completing the picture, and the picture is this: 

All they're doing is hold each other back. Jimin leaving and taking Jungkook's heart with him, Jungkook ruining Jimin's relationship just with his mere presence, making him miserable. 

He wants to keep Jimin, but what if all they are is bad for each other? What if all they have together is a past? 

That’s it, isn’t it? They’ve both been too hung up on who they used to be to each other. Jimin was Jungkook’s safe place, so he ran to him when he was lost. Jungkook was Jimin’s responsibility, so he let that get in between him and his real life. 

“I need to go.” He pulls his hand out of Taehyung’s grip and turns quickly, clutching the packet in his hands but abandoning his basket. He can’t stay here anymore—one more word from Taehyung and he’ll scream. 

“Jungkook!” 

Despite himself, he stops. 

"Fix things with him." His voice is soft, but his eyes are angry. "You both owe me that fucking much." 

He walks away first, leaving Jungkook shocked still and trembling. 

Jungkook turns Taehyung’s words over and over in his mind until he feels sick with it. 

His apartment feels like a cage. He would take a sledgehammer to the walls if he could—like that, maybe they’d stop closing in on him. 

Jimin went to see Taehyung. What was that he said? Figure out what he was feeling. Feeling for who? For what? 

They didn’t get back together. They broke up because of Jungkook. 

It’s injected this jittery anxiety in him, this distorted sort of energy that feels like it’s sucking him dry. 

He needs to see Jimin. He doesn't care if it's too soon. Is a month too soon? He doesn't know. It doesn't matter, anyway. He needs to, to understand. 

He showers, eats, makes a human of himself, and then he texts him, right before he starts walking, i'm coming over. 

Like that, he can't take it back. 

Jimin opens the door looking frazzled and tender and beautiful, and Jungkook's heart beats and beats like it's trying to jump out of his ribcage to reach him. 

He digs his fingernails into his palms.

"Hey." 

"Hi." 

The silence is horrible. Jungkook clears his throat, and Jimin startles back into life. "Come in." 

Jungkook doesn't know if he should sit down. He decides this won't take long. 

He looks around, anxious, and sees their photo right there. The one he gave him for his birthday.

Jimin leans against the counter, gripping it a little. He's looking at Jungkook like he's scared he'll disappear between blinks, a hallucination. His hair is blond now, and Jungkook wonders if this counted a break-up thing too. 

"I don't really know why I'm here." 

Jimin looks at him. 

"I just felt like I needed to see you, I guess." One last time, he hears in his own words. He doesn't know if it's true. 

"Okay." Jimin nods, voice low. "How have you been?" 

Jungkook looks at him. "How do you think?" 

"Me too," Jimin says, guilt written clear and loud all over his face. Jungkook looks away, but Jimin walks towards him. "Jungkook, really. I've just been—I don't know, so worried about you and so lost inside my head that I just—" He stops himself two steps away from Jungkook. “I went to see Taehyung.” 

“I know.” 

“You do?” He frowns. “I—I just needed to see him, one last time. I had to—” 

“I know why.” He interrupts him. When has he ever interrupted Jimin, all their lives? “To know if you were still in love with him.” He ignores Jimin opening his mouth, cuts in before he can talk. "Hyung, I didn’t mean to break you up.” He doesn’t say sorry, because he doesn’t know how truthful that would be—and he’s not here to lie, one way or the other. "I just wanted my best friend back.” He looks anywhere but Jimin, and his catch on that photo. He doesn't want to weigh him down anymore. "But things got out of hand, so I came to tell you. Don't worry about me anymore. I don't want you to, okay?" 

"Jungkook." 

Jungkook’s heart is trembling, but the words are coming out sure and steady. "This wouldn't have happened if you didn't feel an obligation towards me, right? A guilt, for leaving. Maybe you thought you could make up for it, like that." He shrugs. "You don't have to, okay? I'm relieving you of the responsibility. I understand why you left. I don't need you to make up for it. I don't need anything from you that isn't real, anymore." 

"Stop." 

"You were with me because that's what I wanted, and you didn't want to let me down, right? Because you care about me, like family. But your heart clearly isn't in it, and you clearly don't want—" 

"Stop talking." 

"No, let me finish. I can take care of myself. I don’t need—" 

"No, stop that, right now—" 

"You don't love me like that, and that's fine! You don't have to care about me anymore, okay? I'm grown. I understand." 

"You don't understand anything." Jimin's voice is low and cutting, and he's marching up to Jungkook, pushes him in the chest. "Not a fucking thing, if you think I was with you because I felt sorry for you! You don't understand me, or us, or fucking anything." 

"Don't lie." 

"I am not lying." Jimin gets all up in his face, angry, angry, angry. The hesitance of before is gone. "You don't know what you mean to me. I barely knew until now, until I had to confront it, and it's still new to me and scaring me and making me feel so fucking small, and I don't need you to come in here being mad and wrong and shitty at me, Jeon Jungkook!"  

He pushes him again, pushes him until Jungkook takes backwards steps and his back hits the door. Jimin stays close to him, face storming. 

"I did so much wrong," he says, "and I'm sorry. But at least I never tried to tell you how you feel. I never stormed into your house and said horrible shit about you, demeaning everything, reducing it all to such pettiness!" 

He stabs Jungkook with a look that flattens his back to the wall. "Take it back." When Jungkook doesn't talk, he grabs him by the collar and pulls him closer. "Take it back," he says, and this time his voice cracks. "I can't have you thinking all that, Jungkook-ah, I can't." 

Just like every time Jimin cried, Jungkook crumbles. 

He reaches out a hand and grips at his wrist, covering it. 

"Tell me the truth, then." 

"The truth?" 

"How you really feel. If I'm so wrong, tell me." 

Jimin takes that in, then nods, eyes wide. He sniffs, visibly trying to gather his thoughts. "I just—" 

Jungkook wants to hug him. He holds himself very still. 

"So much has been going on lately. I've been so confused. I never thought you'd tell me all those things, or kiss me, or want me, and I didn't—I thought it came out of nowhere, I thought, how didn't I notice, how can it be true?" 

"I talked to Taehyung and he said he'd seen it immediately. He said I looked at you like I looked at him, only so much deeper." 

"And since then I've been thinking...and I think he's right. And that's so scary, to think I've felt all this for you and never noticed, never thought to look more closely at it, because—back then, I thought we'd always be together, and then when I left I couldn't bear to think of you for all the guilt, and then I was with someone, so I just painted over it like best friend, i missed him, I'm catching up, it's normal, it's normal. "

“Those two years…” He wrings his fingers. “I thought about you every single fucking day. I almost came back for you so many times.” 

“But I had ran away, Jungkook. I was sleeping on Yoongi-hyung’s couch and working two jobs to save up and I couldn’t take care of myself, so how could I take care of you?” 

He’s tearing up. “I know I left you. But at least you had a house. You had food on the table, you had two more years of school…” He shakes his head. “If I had pulled you out of that, what would have become of us?” 

“We would have been together.” 

“And starving.” 

“So you made that call for me, just like that.” He shrugs, that bitterness so heavy. “Never asked. Didn’t even leave a goodbye note.” 

“I always wanted to come back for you.” 

“You were happy with your friends and your job and your boyfriend when I found you, Jimin,” he says, tears climbing up his own throat. The accusation that he hasn’t wanted to throw at him surging up. “When were you going to come?” 

Jimin's eyes are swimming with endless guilt and it's making Jungkook's stomach turn.

"When you look at me like that, how the fuck can I believe you weren’t with me out of pity?” 

He looks up at Jungkook then. “I am…” Jungkook is expecting another apology, another toothless I’m sorry.  “So proud of you.” 

Jungkook sucks in a breath. 

“Just because the Jungkookie I know…he knew how to dodge. How to make himself small to avoid the worst. But you got out. You stood up to your dad and you fucking left, and you’re making your own life for yourself.” His hands slip down to his shoulders, eyes somewhere around his collarbone but at the same time a thousand miles away. “And you came to me—you came to me, and I know you love me, I know, and you still looked me in the eyes and told me that’s not how you want it to be. I know how much that hurt you. I wasn’t being fair, and you took care of yourself first.” He smiles. “I’m so proud of you for that. Even if you decide you don’t want me anymore, because I was too little too late, even then, I’ll still be proud of you.” 

Jungkook’s fighting not to cry. 

“Our whole lives…” He’s looking at Jungkook with shiny eyes. “Jungkook-ah, our whole lives you saw me so much better than I was.” 

“Hyung.” 

“And I’m just so glad.” He laughs, shakily, not letting himself be interrupted. “I’m just glad you can finally see me for who I am.” He licks his lips. “Like this, I know that if you say you want me, it’s real.” 

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks, his whole soul catching, holding its breath. 

“I want…” Jimin’s voice is shaky. “I want to stick around with you,” he says, almost shily. “I already lost you once, and I never want to do it again. I want us to learn what it’s like to grow together, too, now we have the space. God, I’m all over the place, I don’t know if I’m making any sense,” he says with a nervous shake of his head. He looks up at Jungkook after what feels like days. 

"I don't want to hurt you again," he says in a whisper. "I don't ever want to be the one that hurts you." He puts his hands on Jungkook's cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "I fucked it up very badly. I know. I'm so sorry."

Jimin's looking at him all tender, all honey. 

"Say something, hm?" He holds him tighter, gripping the fabric of his hoodie and bunching it up. "Please say something, Kook, please talk to me, I—" 

Jungkook leans down and kisses him, soft, soft, soft, with his heart pounding so hard he's feeling dizzy. 

Jimin gasps against his mouth, a small little breathless sound, and wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck. When he breaks the kiss, he jumps on him, face tucked into his neck. 

He's hugging him so tightly. Jungkook's clutching back, trembling with relief and emotion and proud and learn to be together. 

"It's not a goodbye kiss, is it?" Jimin asks, timid, against Jungkook's skin. 

"Not if I can help it," Jungkook murmurs back, holding him close. 

“Okay,” Jimin says with a breathless laugh. “Okay.” 

“Come here,” Jungkook mutters into his ear. “Let me see you.” 

Jimin steps back a little, but doesn’t move away. Just brings his face into view, tears rolling steady and silent. Jungkook kisses them away, humming against his skin. 

“Do you forgive me,” Jimin asks, holding onto Jungkook’s shirt as he receives the kisses dropped onto his cheek. 

“Yeah.” He presses his forehead into Jimin’s. “I do.”  

“But I can’t stop fucking up.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says with a small smile. “But I want to grow with you too."

“But I don’t want you to stay out of obligation, or, or…because you’re resigned, or—” 

“I’m staying because I want to trust you.” Jungkook kisses him. “I want to be right for trusting you.” He kisses his cheek, under his jaw. “Please, don’t prove me wrong. Please, hyung.” 

“How do I do that?” 

“Stay with me." He noses along Jimin's cheek. “Don’t disappear again. You said you wouldn’t leave again. You promised." 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jimin dips in and takes his mouth, determined. He slides his hands into Jungkook’s hair, and all of Jungkook’s thoughts get drowned in the chorus of jiminjiminjimin, and his heart is beating in tune. 

Jimin kisses open and unreserved, and like he wants to seal himself onto Jungkook forever. He doesn’t realise yet that’s a done deal. 

Jungkook pulls away just a fraction. “Did you miss me?” 

“I missed you so much,” he says, eyes soft despite his harsh breathing. Jungkook’s heart thumps. “So much, baby.” 

“Baby?” 

“My baby,” Jimin says again, not a sign of teasing. Just earnest, heavy feeling. “Mm?” 

Jungkook nods, a delicious weight settling onto his chest. “My Jimin.”

“I like it when you say my name like that,” Jimin mutters, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s. 

“I’ll say it more often, then.”

Jimin kisses hungry, down Jungkook’s throat, his collarbone, his chest. Even lower, keeping his hands on Jungkook the whole time. Jungkook breathes and breathes through it, pulse racing, heart singing. 

He pulls him as close as he can and tastes him again, tastes him different, and Jimin hums against his mouth, pleased and proud and not at all sated. 

They make it to the bed, eventually. They don’t sleep for a long time. 

Jungkook wakes up slowly, relaxed and pleasantly heavy, to an empty bed. He feels a knot start to form in his chest, but then he breathes. 

Please don’t prove me wrong. 

“Hyung?” 

A moment later, Jimin’s poking his head into the room. “Hey.” He comes back to bed, but settles at the end of it, by Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook scowls.

“Why are you all the way over there?” 

“I figured I’d give you a shot to take off running, if you came to your senses during the night.” 

This again. Why doesn’t he ever believe him on the first try?

“Jimin,” Jungkook says, low and scolding. 

Something blooms in Jimin’s eyes, a pretty pink spreading on his cheeks. 

Oh, okay.

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook tries again, and it’s even more effective this time, and it makes him smile. “Come here and kiss me.” 

Jimin’s worry clears off his face slowly. He crawls up the bed, hovers over Jungkook and leans in. 

“Who are you calling Jimin?” 

“I thought you said you liked it when I said your name,” Jungkook smirks. 

Jimin narrows his eyes at him.  He runs his hand through Jungkook’s hair and kisses him, soft and tender and bright in the sun and then he pinches him in the stomach, hard. 

“Ow!” 

“Be respectful,” Jimin says, fake outraged, cracking into a laugh.  

“What will that get me?” 

He moves down with purpose. He glides his lips over the sensitive skin, dips out his tongue just for a taste, then presses a sweet kiss there just as Jungkook starts squirming. 

“Get back up here,” he demands softly. 

“Mmm,” Jimin hums. “I don’t know. I think there’s plenty I can do down here.” He goes even further down, mouthing at the sensitive skin of Jungkook’s thighs. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, breathlessly. “Don’t tease.” 

Jimin grins, and drags his teeth over his skin again in warning. Jungkook flushes. 

“You sure you’re not running for the hills?” 

“No more running.” He slides his fingers through Jimin’s hair, tender. “Not unless you’re running with me.”  

Jimin looks at him like he’s some kind of miracle.

He presses his lip to the softest, untouched spot on his thigh and whispers kisses into it, whispers promises, whispers baby and so good for me and stay with me, stay with me. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and lets himself be loved, careful and full of future, in the light of day.