Archive of Our Own

In the heart of San Francisco, Bangtan Games is located in a cramped studio on the 5th floor of an unassuming building. The team is small, comprised of 7 Korean-American men all in their twenties with one exception. (RIP Seokjin.) Either Namjoon is a miracle worker, extremely lucky, or it was simply fate for the studio to be exclusively Korean-American and mostly queer. (Yoongi's sexuality remains a mystery to this day.)

“I still think we should crunch,” Seokjin says, chewing loudly on his Cheetos. The crinkling of the bag echoes in the silent meeting room when he plunges his hand back into it to grab a handful. His fingers are covered in sticky red dust.

Namjoon sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. From across him, Jungkook does his best to repress a shiver. Is it bad that he thinks it’s kind of hot when Namjoon looks disappointed?

“We’re not crunching just because you think it’ll be a fun bonding activity, Seokjin,” Namjoon says, exasperated.

“This is a democracy, Joon.” Seokjin licks his fingers before wiping them on his shirt. It’s dark blue, with a drawing of Mario sitting on the toilet in the middle. Mario’s face shines with the thin layer of spit Seokjin leaves on it. “Who’s up for crunching?” Seokjin asks, raising his hand.

The room stays motionless.

Seokjin huffs, lowering his hand. “I just think—”

“Can I go back to my desk now?” Yoongi asks, his tone grouchy. He’s slumped in his ratty wooden chair, the lines of his body defeated. There are dark circles under his eyes from late nights spent not dealing drugs in a back alley — contrary to popular (Jungkook’s) belief — but taking care of his sick cat. In Jungkook’s defense, the man seems to have inexplicable knowledge about a variety of drugs. 

Namjoon looks resigned. He leans his elbows on the table, covering his face in his hands as he rubs his eyes. His voice sounds muffled when he simply says: “Just go.”

Yoongi leaves without fanfare, the dreary gray door closing behind him with a soft click. The others take it as a sign to leave as well, shuffling back to their work silently, careful in their steps. Only Jungkook lingers behind, stopping in front of the door and wringing his hands together. He fiddles with his tie, nervously fixing it back into place.

Namjoon is eerily still, face hidden into his hands, the only sign of life his back rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths — the rhythm steady even as Jungkook takes two steps in approach, stopping next to him. Jungkook places a gentle, trembling hand on his shoulder. His pulse races wildly beneath his skin.

“Don’t… Don’t worry, Namjoon. We’ll figure it out.” He feared his voice would come out shaky, the way it usually does when he’s alone with Namjoon, whole body fluttering from the nerves, the thrill. The fear, the excitement. It’s enough to leave him winded.

Namjoon raises his head, sending a small smile Jungkook’s way, eyes crinkling at the corners. Jungkook feels his heart jump in his chest, a flush slowly spreading over his face. It’s hard to keep a goofy, lovesick smile from breaking free.

“Thanks, Jungkook.” Namjoon’s voice is warm, smooth, enough to have Jungkook release some of the tension in his shoulders, melting back into a dropped position.. What is it about Namjoon’s voice that makes Jungkook’s name sound so perfect? As a child, he sometimes harbored resentment towards his name with every subsequent instance of someone botching it; now, not a day goes by that he doesn’t internally thank his mom for giving him the greatest name on Earth. After Namjoon.

Namjoon stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head. The action drags his t-shirt up, exposing a small sliver of his stomach. Oh. That’s bad. That’s really bad.

Jungkook is so transfixed he almost doesn’t notice Namjoon addressing him again. “I’ll call another meeting later today. We really need to get our production schedule sorted out.”

Jungkook looks away with a blush, staring at the blank white wall. He clears his throat. “Of course.”

If Namjoon notices Jungkook’s creepy staring, he doesn’t mention it. Jungkook gets a whiff of his faint cologne when he walks past, feeling himself go a bit weak in the knees. Namjoon smells like something rich but not overwhelming. Something earthy. 

Jungkook leaves the meeting room in a daze. He startles, jumping a foot into the air at Jimin’s sudden appearance in his vision, his body leaning against the wall next to the door. Legs and arms crossed. He’s dressed immaculately today too — wearing an all-black outfit with a collared v-neck cinched at the waist by a thick belt, leading into stylish cargo pants tucked into short boots. At his neck sits a heavy chained necklace. His black hair is elegantly styled. Jungkook briefly wonders how he has the energy to come into work looking like he’s ready to hit the runway every day.

In comparison, Jungkook’s outfit feels drab — a simple white button-up tucked into slacks with a black tie around his neck. It’s simple. Definitely not on Jimin’s level, but Jungkook thinks it makes him look handsome and more mature. Even if it doesn't, his mom certainly thinks so, if the barrage of compliments she sent him on his first ever day at his previous job was anything to go by. (He'd been pressured into sending her a picture.)

Jimin’s eyebrows are scrunched into a displeased frown; Jungkook doesn’t have to think very hard to guess the reason for the expression. The sight is menacing — the narrowed eyes, closed body language, sharp angles all over — Jungkook’s body preparing itself for the confrontation, tense. Jungkook hates arguing — he's bad at talking back, and though he'd never admit it to anyone (including himself), he's slightly scared of Jimin. The man is intimidating. Something about the hardened gaze he settles on Jungkook is unnerving.

Jimin cocks an eyebrow. Mocking. "Wow."

Jungkook bristles. "You have anything to say?" 

"Nothing," Jimin says breezily. He’s good at that — pretending he’s above derision. He delivers his comments like they’re simple truths. "You're just so obvious about your crush. It's kind of embarrassing."

Jungkook clenches his fists, feeling his face heat up. He knows he shouldn't let it get to him, and yet— "Comforting someone is a crime now?"

Jimin adjusts his sleeve. "Please. You look at him like you worship the ground he stands on."

Jungkook isn’t aware of how he looks at Namjoon. He’s never disconnected enough to realize what his body is doing in Namjoon’s presence, Although he knows he's not as obvious about his crush as Jimin is making him out to be, he can't deny there's probably a bit of truth to his words. He admires Namjoon a lot. He's probably the greatest person Jungkook has ever met. 

But he'd rather die than give Jimin an inch. 

Jungkook points an accusing finger at him. "You're throwing a fit out of jealousy. It's childish and ugly of you."

Jimin snorts, pushing himself off the wall. He stalks closer, steps light. Invading his space. He's uncomfortably close, and Jungkook feels himself swallow when Jimin narrows his eyes at him. He smells good, like something floral and woodsy. Not the typical scent of cologne men love to douse themselves in.

"Keep telling yourself that. If my 'jealousy'" — he uses air quotes — "is childish, then your insecurity is downright humiliating to look at." He places a finger on Jungkook's chest, pushing slightly. The tap is light, but Jungkook feels it like a shove. The touch stings uncomfortably even when Jimin draws his hand back.

Jimin isn't even looking at him anymore. "What do you even mean by insecurity—"

"Oh, Namjoon-hyung!" Jimin’s gaze brightens when the door opens, any lingering trace of aggression disappearing like he’s been reset. Jungkook knows Jimin never uses the word hyung in English. He's an absolute fraud. 

Jimin rushes over to Namjoon's side. Namjoon freezes awkwardly at the threshold of the door, startling when Jimin pushes Jungkook to the side in a swift movement. Jimin places a hand on Namjoon's arm and leans in. His eyebrows turn down in a compassionate frown. "Don't worry about Seokjin. I can handle him. Worst comes to worst, I'll knock him out cold and stuff him in a closet. Then when he's freed we can make a bunch of coming out jokes at him."

Namjoon throws his head back in a loud laugh, pulled deep from his belly, his dimples on full display. 

His dimples. 

As if Jungkook didn't already hate Jimin enough. He's fuming. Jimin isn’t funny enough to deserve the sight of Namjoon’s cutest quality.

Jungkook grits his teeth. "'You're so obvious about your crush'," he mocks under his breath, watching in annoyance as Jimin drags Namjoon off with a hand settled low on his back, the movement smooth enough to prevent Namjoon from acknowledging Jungkook’s lingering presence. The touch is so casual it makes Jungkook sick. 

In petty retaliation, he leaves to make a fresh cup of coffee and dumps a fistful of salt into it before placing it on Jimin’s desk while he’s distracted. Too busy fawning over Namjoon-hyung to keep an eye on his space. Serves him right. The cup sits there — unassuming — until Jimin comes back. Jungkook leans dangerously to the side of his chair and watches him like a hawk around the corner of his own desk.

Jimin pauses with a hand in his pocket before picking the cup up. Without blinking twice, he makes his way to the bathroom, disappearing behind the door. Jungkook strains to hear any sounds. A few seconds later, Jimin reappears, the cup — now emptied — hanging loosely from his fingers. He sets it aside on his own desk and then sits down gracefully, cup abandoned and forgotten. Jungkook scoffs under his breath. Jimin crosses his legs in a loose motion.

Jungkook turns back to his screen, his unfinished 3D model staring back at him. His keyboard clicks angrily with the excessive force he taps the keys with. He's not sulking. His stylus glides snappily over his tablet.

"Did your PC personally offend you? Is it lagging? Are you done with the sword yet?" Taehyung asks from in front of him, his desk placed right across Jungkook's, flush against it. As the lead artist, he oversees Jungkook's work. Jungkook doesn’t bother to glance at him.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" He grumbles. 

Taehyung gives him a look. Jungkook sighs. “No, I’m not done. I’m gonna go take a break.”

“Don’t take all the rice krispies!” Taehyung shouts at his back. Jungkook doesn’t even like those.

The break room is a small thing, second-hand furniture that doesn’t go together cluttering the space. Namjoon insisted on having one for the morale of the team, but despite his best efforts, the room still looks like a mess. Charming, but disorderly. The red couch pushed along the side wall is everyone’s favorite — after that comes the black armchair. Then the beige one. On the other side, a brown table pushed against the wall is covered by a mountain of different treats, brought in by everyone except Taehyung;  he always mooches off everyone, and Jimin spoils him by buying his favorite snacks. Next to it, there’s a fancy coffee machine that Yoongi largely paid for by himself, although he still extorted funds out of everyone to help finance it. 

Yoongi is there now, napping on the couch. He doesn’t open his eyes at Jungkook’s noisy entrance, although Jungkook can tell he’s awake. He doesn’t apologize for waking him.

“Have you noticed anything obvious about me?”

Yoongi slowly blinks. His mouth hangs open, his bleary eyes squinting in an attempt to decipher Jungkook’s question. “...Huh?”

“Is there anything obvious about me?” Jungkook repeats, still standing at the entrance.

“...What?”

Jungkook sighs, frustrated. “Anything obvious about me in regards to… a specific person?” He wants to keep it vague in case Yoongi doesn’t know. Not in case. Yoongi doesn’t know. Jungkook is certain of that. But he might have an inkling. If he does, he should know what Jungkook is hinting at; if he doesn’t, then Jungkook doesn’t want to alert him to it. 

Jungkook has never seen Yoongi look so confused. After a long, tense moment of silence, he says: “You mean how you and Jimin clearly have some sort of feud going on?”

“We don’t have a— a feud!” Jungkook snaps, defensive, cheeks heating up. He can’t have Yoongi examining that thought any further, because then he might figure out why that’s the case. Ugh. Why did Jimin have to be so blatantly annoying? At least Jungkook can be subtle with his hatred.

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s just a bit annoying,” Jungkook acquiesces, mumbling. 

“Right.” Yoongi looks amused, a smirk growing on his face. Heis gaze is more awake, now that he’s spotted an opportunity to tease him. Jungkook feels hot under his collar. Annoying. What is Yoongi trying to imply? The thought of anyone else having noticed the bad blood between Jungkook and Jimin is— upsetting. Embarrassing. Jungkook doesn’t want to be the type of coworker who’s seen as unable to keep things professional, no matter how unprofessional the setting finds itself being.

Extending the conversation will only lead to Jungkook digging himself a deeper grave. He knows how to pick his battles. He huffs, turning on his heels to leave with the tentative satisfaction at Yoongi’s — and by extension, everyone else’s — ignorance of his crush on Namjoon. As the most unnervingly observant of the group, Yoongi would be the first to notice.

On his way back to his desk, he spots Jimin approaching in the distance, ignoring Jungkook as he makes his way past. Chin raised in arrogance, shoulders pulled back. Like he’s hot shit.

It’s a spontaneous decision.

Just as Jimin steps past him, Jungkook immediately shoots his foot out to the side. Jimin’s yelp is strangled as he falls to the floor with a heavy thud, barely catching himself on his palms, the noise alerting everyone in the vicinity to his tumble. Their heads all swivel in surprise — concern — before going back to their tasks once it’s been made clear Jimin only tripped. Jungkook hears Taehyung snicker to the side. 

The way Jimin turns his gaze around is slow. Measured. Controlled in a way that Jungkook can tell means he’s furious. He almost squeals in excitement, but immediately tampers it down when Jimin meets his gaze. His eyes are nothing short of murderous. Jungkook gulps.

“Oh, you’re fucking on,”  Jimin growls. He stands up in one hurried, angry movement, and for a moment Jungkook is scared he might have to square up. He’s never thrown a punch in his life. 

Instead, Jimin pushes past him, making sure to bump his shoulder into Jungkook’s as hard as possible. The impact leaves a dull ache. He slams the door to the breakroom shut, startling everyone a second time. 

“What crawled up his ass?” Hoseok asks, hand on his chest. 

Jungkook snorts under his breath. Of all the times Jimin has glared at him, this might be the most furious he’s ever looked. It’s funny, but now Jungkook is getting kind of nervous. He doesn’t know what Jimin is capable of. 

Still, he tries to bask in the glory; he sits down at his desk with a smug smile on his face. Taehyung peers at him curiously from behind his screen, but Jungkook ignores him. He cracks his knuckles, his neck, renewed energy surging through him when he remembers the way Jimin looked sprawled on the ground. He giggles to himself. Taehyung squints at him.

Jungkook has never considered himself a particularly petty person – he falls on the lenient side of things more often than not, sometimes to a fault. It’s the kind of attitude that spares him a lot of anger, but also leaves him susceptible to mistreatment; although he keeps to himself enough that it isn’t often a problem. He’s never disliked someone enough to go out of his way to get back at them, before Jimin. It doesn’t feel unjustified.

(His good mood doesn’t last long — he accidentally moves unwanted geometry on a part of his model without realizing it and has to redo 10 minutes of work. Taehyung doesn’t even look twice when Jungkook buries his face in his hands.)

The screen stares back at him, mocking. Jungkook takes a deep breath, psyching himself up to fix his mistake. Just then, Namjoon appears at the edge of his vision, approaching his desk nervously. “Is this a bad time?”

Jungkook jolts in surprise, eyes wide as saucers as he turns to Namjoon. It’s not rare for Namjoon to seek him out, but it still sends Jungkook’s heart careening into a frantic rhythm each time he does. “No,” he stutters, unable to look away from Namjoon’s face and the way his dimple crops up with his nervous expression. “Um, what’s up?”

Namjoon wordlessly hands him a small box; Jungkook takes it without question. He glances at it curiously, seeing the words Benzoyl Peroxide printed on the front. He frowns, confused. 

Namjoon looks around before bending down to give them a semblance of privacy, voice low and quiet. His breath washes over Jungkook’s face. It sends shivers down his spine, and he almost whimpers. Namjoon’s face is so close. “Jimin told me you have a painful pimple on your butt,” he says, and Jungkook freezes. “That you didn’t want help even though sitting is painful. So I got you this.”

Namjoon looks so earnest as he says it. Like he genuinely just wants to help. Jungkook wants to cry.

He tightens his grip on the small package. Namjoon is trying to be helpful, and Jungkook can’t just tell him it was all a bad prank because Jimin hates Jungkook. He looks too cute with his wide eyes, glittering with concern. Jungkook tries to smile, feels it wobble around the edges.

“Thank you,” he says, almost crushing the cardboard between his fingers. “Uh— please don’t tell anyone.”

Namjoon smiles back at him, round cheeks filling out as he does. He looks so happy to have helped. He straightens back up in one quick movement, almost excited. “Of course not! I hope it gets better soon.” 

Jungkook’s smile turns into a grimace. Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice. 

He leaves. Jungkook spots Jimin loitering in the background, observing the interaction like a creep. He catches Jungkook looking, smirking with an eyebrow raised. Jungkook turns back to his screen, the heat on his face shifting from embarrassment to blazing fury. He feels like he might explode. He keeps it all locked in. 

The benzoyl peroxide gets its own spot in a corner of his cabinet at home — after all, it’s still a gift from Namjoon.

Namjoon had a vision for a fantasy RPG with a focus on unique mechanics and engaging dialogue. 

Yoongi and Namjoon had been close friends for years, and despite not having studied the same source, or even at the same uni, Namjoon decided to recruit Yoongi for his project anyway — the reasoning being that his game would need a composer eventually. A composer and a programmer — a bit of an odd duo to start with. They took it in stride.

Thankfully, Namjoon also knew Seokjin, a friend from his computer science course who was insane enough to leave his job for the project, based solely on his trust in Namjoon’s creative vision. There’s no innovation to be found with these corporate pigs, he’d said. Jungkook fully agrees with him.

Jungkook was recruited online after quitting his job at a big gaming studio, suffering from the worst burnout of his life on account of the horrible working conditions. He'd been looking at indie studios regardless, certain that he would never want to work at a big studio ever again. And if part of the reason he finalized the offer was because he has a crush on Namjoon, then— so what?

Next came Jimin and, by extension, Taehyung. Jin had remembered a super-nerd he'd TA'd in university who'd become his somewhat friend before Jin inevitably graduated and they simply stopped talking. Jungkook remembers how excited Jin had been to get someone of Jimin's caliber on the team. 

What he also remembers is how flustered Jimin and Taehyung — but Jimin especially — had made Jungkook when he’d first met them, with their model-like looks and impeccable style. Taehyung quickly lost interest in putting effort into his appearance, sometimes even coming into the office in his pajamas, but Jimin always walked in with subtle yet effective makeup and outfits Jungkook thought only existed on Instagram. It made him seem unapproachable to someone like Jungkook.

That was before Jungkook came to realize how hard it is to talk to him for entirely different reasons. He thinks it’s a shame that Jimin doesn’t have the personality to match his good looks; everything is fair in life, he supposes.

Hoseok was the last to join their team, recruited online the same way Jungkook was. Anything audio-related was initially left to Yoongi — they figured they didn’t need anyone specific for those tasks, but quickly back-pedalled when Yoongi revolted, grumbling in a low voice at having to do multiple jobs at once. Thus, in came Hoseok. Jungkook is thankful they hired him, because without him, Jungkook isn’t sure anyone on the team would have gone from coworker to actual friend. Which is good, because Jungkook doesn’t really have any friends outside of Bangtan. 

Everyone being friends does come with caveats, though — mainly because of Taehyung’s antics. Jungkook gives in to them a little too easily, but so does everyone else. 

Which is why the meeting room is comically full of color today: everyone is wearing some shade of green, even people who never wear color (Yoongi and Jungkook). Yoongi at least has a green sweater, but all Jungkook had was a deep forest tie. It sits snugly around his neck. 

“It's a symptom of the lack of care between the team,” Taehyung says. Namjoon just wanted to solve the issue of food theft from the office fridge. As always, it’s been minutes of unproductive discussions derailed into whatever topic someone decides to initiate. “Look at Jungkook: he could only be bothered to put on a green tie for green day!”

“This is the only green piece of clothing I had!”

“Jimin is the only one who understood the assignment,” Taehyung adds, ignoring Jungkook. He gestures towards Jimin, who’s dressed in a full monochrome green outfit. Jungkook knows what he’s trying to do. Jungkook narrows his eyes at him, then shifts them to the side to glare at Jimin, who puffs his chest up in arrogance. Always looking to brag, the asshole. 

“Can we get back on topic, please?” Namjoon pleads. 

Taehyung looks at him. “This is just as important—”

“I bet Taehyung did it and he’s just trying to deflect,” Jungkook cuts in, vengeful. He has no idea who did it, but he might as well throw Taehyung under the bus for singling Jungkook out and interrupting Namjoon.

Taehyung gasps, appalled. Jimin sends Jungkook a nasty look, placing a supportive hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “How dare you accuse my soulmate of such—”

“He’s acting suspicious—”

“You’re such a spiteful little—”

“To be fair,” Hoseok cuts in, nonplussed. He doesn’t seem bothered by the state of affairs. His chin rests on top of his palm, lips pursed. “I’ve never seen Taehyung bring his own lunchbox.”

Silence. Everyone turns to Hoseok, before slowly swiveling their gaze to Taehyung. Taehyung’s face is blank, eerily so, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything in his defense. No one seems to know what to say.

The silence is broken as Yoongi launches himself at Taehyung over the small table, shifting it from the force of his movement. It makes a loud scraping noise on the floor. He takes a hold of Taehyung’s collar to yell at him for stealing his hard-worked meals, you lazy fuck, just because you can’t cook like the useless adult you are doesn’t mean —

Namjoon desperately tries to hold Yoongi back before he stretches Taehyung’s collar irreparably, flustered at the turn of events, and Taehyung holds his hands up in surrender as he’s jerked around.

Seokjin cackles, delighted. Jungkook stands from his chair to point an accusing finger at the scene, exclaiming: “I told you so! I told you so!” Next to Taehyung, Jimin sits still with his mouth hanging open in betrayal.

When Namjoon finally manages to get Yoongi under control — wrangling him into a tight hold around his shoulder as Yoongi fumes and continues glaring at Taehyung — he says, exasperated: “Taehyung, please stop stealing everyone’s food. Yoongi”—Yoongi huffs and rolls his eyes—”please don’t attempt murder. It’ll hinder our progress on the game.” Then, looking back at Taehyung, he adds: “If this continues, I’ll be forced to put a padlock on the fridge with a code that everyone except Taehyung knows.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw Taehyung pick a lock a few weeks ago,” Hoseok casually chimes in. He hasn’t moved from his position.

Seokjin looks delighted at this turn of events, but Jungkook knows that’s just because he keeps his food hidden in a cooler bag every day. He’s been happy to let everyone burn under Taehyung’s crimes while his food stays safe and sound.

“What?” Namjoon starts, bewildered. “Why?” Hobi shrugs. Namjoon turns to Taehyung.

“Someone left their bike out and I wanted to see if I could unlock it,” Taehyung confesses, although it’s less of a confession and more of an easygoing comment. He throws up a peace sign as he says it, like there’s nothing else for him to feel but pride at his skills.

Jungkook blanches. He sometimes takes his bicycle to work. He leaves it right outside the building.

Namjoon seems equally speechless, lost on how to respond to an admission of the sort. Seokjin, however, has no such grievances, jumping up excitedly from his seat and rushing towards Taehyung.

“You need to teach me how to do that.” He wraps a hand around Taehyung’s arm, hauling him up and dragging him out of the room — out of the office. The door slams loudly behind them.

Namjoon lets go of Yoongi and jolts out of his chair, running towards the door and throwing it open. “Please don’t encourage his thieving habits!” He calls after them. “And Taehyung, please stop stealing everyone else’s food!”

It’s useless. They’re gone.

Namjoon slumps back, defeated. He closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose, shoulders slumping with the heavy sigh he lets out. “Please let me know if Taehyung continues to bother you,” he says, addressing the rest of the group with his back turned to them. He leaves without another glance, the lines of his shoulders defeated.

Jimin stands up to follow him. Jungkook startles at the sudden movement before scrambling out of his own chair, painfully aware of Jimin’s intentions.

He stumbles out of the room hurriedly. His eyes shift around in search of Jimin's figure, rushing in his direction when he spots Jimin's long legs quickly bringing him towards Namjoon. 

"Namjoon-hyung!" He hears Jimin call, gritting his teeth stalks forward. Jimin doesn't spare him a glance despite hearing his footsteps, his focus taken up by Namjoon. The way he spins around with an open expression on his face, despite his current frustration. He's so kind. Jungkook feels himself swooning, even if he's not the recipient of Namjoon's attention. "I'm sorry about Taehyung. You seem stressed out. Do you need a shoulder massage?" Jimin asks, presenting a hand and wiggling his fingers. "I've been told I'm very good with my hands."

Jungkook gasps, horrified, yanking Jimin's hand out of the air where he was reaching for Namjoon. "I really wouldn't recommend that," he says with a strained smile, gripping Jimin's wrist hard enough to cut the blood flow, even as Jimin tries to wrench it free. Namjoon looks between them with a confused smile. "Jimin is a brute." Namjoon glances at the grip Jungkook has around Jimin's wrist. 

"I am not—"

Namjoon's eyebrows seem to be unable to decide whether to rise or furrow. His gaze flits between the two of them. "Jimin has given you a massage before? I didn't know you guys were that close." Even as he says it, he sounds confused. 

Jungkook laughs fakely. "Well!—"

"Absolutely not —"

Namjoon bites his lip, his bewilderment growing, seeming conflicted on whether this situation requires his intervention as the team leader. He wipes his palms on his jeans. Jungkook's eyes follow their trajectory down to Namjoon's thighs, and they stay there even when Namjoon removes his hands. The distraction loosens his grip enough for Jimin to free his hand from it with a hard tug, but Jungkook has more important things to worry about right now. Like the way he’s never paid attention to how Namjoon’s legs look in tight jeans. 

Namjoon decides on a tentative, slightly hopeful smile. “Well, if you guys are getting along, that’s good! Teamwork is important!”

“Sure is,” Jimin replies through gritted teeth, his smile tense. 

“I better…” Namjoon trails off, awkwardly gesturing towards his desk. He’s so cute. His desk is the endearing kind of messy, too, cluttered in a way that displays his varied array of ideas. He’s full to the brim with them, creative in a way that feels so refreshing in comparison to the mind-numbing corporate sludge Jungkook and his old coworkers had to navigate. There are different sketches on papers, post-it notes, messily scribbled words like Namjoon had to rush to get them out before his mind flicked to the next idea; then there are trinkets like a small toy turtle or a mini potted cactus. 

Jungkook forgets to say anything before Namjoon scurries off, too busy admiring the full perfection of him in his head. Having to interact with the most perfect man he’s ever known puts Jungkook under a lot of pressure. It’s understandable that he’d fumble through some of the conversations.

The moment Namjoon is out of earshot, Jimin whirls on Jungkook. “What the fuck, dude?” Giving a quick scan around the area, he wraps his hand around Jungkook’s arm and hauls him out of the office, into the hallway. Jungkook’s rage and disgust come back to him all at once at the reminder of Jimin’s existence, but he lets himself get dragged off with a flare of his nostrils. Getting out of Namjoon’s earshot seems like a wise choice.

The walls are a drab off-white color, less so as if that had been the intended color, and more as if no one had bothered to clean them for decades. The carpet running along the floor is a pattern of gray with black streaks, like something you’d see in a cheap hotel. The air smells stuffy. Jungkook already doesn’t like being here, but having to share the space with Jimin is a new level of torment Jungkook hasn’t experienced before. Jimin is notoriously proficient at giving him new miserable experiences.

When Jimin stops and releases him, Jungkook huffs and crosses his arms, interrupting whatever Jimin was planning to say. “Do you really think what you’re doing is going to work on him? You called me obvious, but you’re coming on so strongly I wouldn’t be surprised if he tells you off.”

Jimin scoffs, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “Sure, I’m gonna take flirting advice from a guy who can’t even look at him for more than 5 seconds without creaming his pants. Keep it up and you might make progress in the next 5 years.”

Jungkook chokes, his cheeks burning in offense. His shoulders raise defensively, and his voice is marginally louder than it was before. “I’m trying to get closer to him naturally!”

“And how well is that working out for you?”

Jungkook breathes to compose himself, his fingers tensing and relaxing. He leans against the wall cockily before immediately regretting it when he remembers he’s wearing a white shirt. He hides his wince. “Better than it is for you, that’s for sure. Bet he thinks your fawning is annoying.”

Jimin doesn’t react defensively, staying composed. He hums. “Oh yeah?” He cocks a hip, lifting his chin in a taunt. The dim lighting pouring in from the small window casts his features in angled shadows, his gaze darker than usual. Still, there’s a glint. “Want to bet on that?”

Jungkook doesn’t. He searches Jimin’s face for any hint that he’s joking — the slightly hooded eyes, neutral lips, relaxed expression — finding nothing. He’s not the kind of person to wear his feelings on his face. Not easily. It’s what gives him the upper hand when it comes to flirting, Jungkook supposes; it’s easier to play around when you’re not wearing your feelings — vulnerable feelings — on your sleeve. 

Jungkook is aware that he can be horrifyingly competitive, to no real gain at times. He’s not sure it’s always a matter of pride. In this case, it is; he doesn’t see himself backing down in any universe. He’s an artist, but not a master of the art of seduction — there’s nothing to base his confidence on. It’s all fake. Jimin narrows his eyes at him like he can see right through him, to his core, the hidden weakness of it. Like he’s just waiting for Jungkook to shy away and admit defeat. 

Jungkook has effectively nothing to gain. But out of Jimin and him, he’s not going to be the weaker of the two.

He shrugs, trying to adjust his tie nonchalantly. It’s uncomfortably tight around his neck. “Why not? If you’re that unafraid of losing.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You got 100 dollars?”

“Only?” Jungkook doesn’t know why he says it. He’s swept away by the moment. He sweats, remembering his meager savings.

Jimin gives him a hard stare. “200 and a whole week of doing whatever the winner wants. First one to get Namjoon to reciprocate their feelings wins. Deal?”

Jungkook’s head is blank. He doesn’t let himself think about the mess he’s gotten into, or what the consequences of his actions will be. He’ll leave the panicking for later, when no one is around to see his breakdown. “You’re on,” he says instead, like he has any idea what he’s doing.

They shake hands. Jimin’s grip is tight, too tight, even though his smile is scarily sweet. His hands are too soft for his personality. Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised to see his pupils turn to slits. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

His tone is so mocking, Jungkook almost kicks him in the shin. Jimin clearly has no such reservations, because he shoulders past Jungkook roughly before walking back into the office, not bothering to hold the door open for him. 

Jungkook stays in the stuffy hallway for a few more moments, collecting himself before heading back to work. 

He’ll think about it later. 

Panic sets in. Jungkook sits on his small couch at home, sharing his warmth with his Hello Kitty plushie, and he pauses with his chopsticks half-raised to his mouth. 

Google is too general. And confusing. Jungkook needs someone to guide him through it step by step while holding his hand. 

He texts Seokjin. 

Me:

jin

how do i dress nicely

Jin:

what the hell happened to suddenly make YOU interested in clothes

Me:

can you just help me

Jin:

i have no idea why you're asking me of all people

ask jimin

he clearly knows the most out of any of us 

Me:

absolutely not

Jin:

??

okay, well

are you trying to woo someone

Jungkook blushes. He retypes his message three times. 

Me:

no

Jin:

dress according to their interests

they like sports? dress like a jock.

wearing a lot of video game t shirts works well enough to attract nerds for me

Me:

im not trying to woo anyone!!!

Jin:

then just go on pinterest or something

Seokjin is useless. Jungkook isn't surprised. He'd known it was a last-ditch effort. He'd already tried to use Pinterest, but it was too difficult to navigate to find anything that was fashionable, looked cheap, seemed like something he could pull off, and was something he already had in his closet. How would he even apply what he'd seen without owning the exact same clothes they use? Jungkook only has t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, sweatpants, and sneakers. 

God. Why is he such a nerd? Why did he never bother trying to dress up? He should've known being a stereotypical programming nerd would come to bite him in the ass when it matters most. 

What's important is mapping out a plan now. Jungkook brings the last of his instant ramen to his mouth while he thinks. 

First of all: in the field of fashion, Jimin clearly has him beat. It's not even a competition. Jungkook has no qualms admitting that, even if letting Jimin have anything makes disgust roil in his stomach. What can Jungkook realistically do to step his game up and become a worthy competitor, without needing years of experience of dressing himself? 

Maybe a full suit will enhance his features nicely to make him look more handsome and mature. No man looks bad in a suit. 

He leans back against the couch, inspecting himself. His t-shirt is plain black with a simple Monster Hunter logo on it, and his sweatpants are the most standard pair you could find in any store. 

He lifts his shirt, observing his stomach before poking it. It's soft. Should he start working out? He hasn't gone to the gym in years. Only did it for a few inconsistent months before giving up entirely. He never found any enjoyment in it, and never felt the sweaty, painful, and difficult experience to be worth sacrificing his free time for. 

But Namjoon is muscular. Should he put in some effort? Does Namjoon like muscles? Or does he like a soft, skinny twink? Jungkook thinks he can be that. He’s never called himself one, but he thinks he might fit into that category. Jimin definitely does. But people always like at least a little bit of muscle definition, right? He can’t tell if Jimin has any. He hopes Jimin wears a crop top soon so Jungkook can determine whether he does. He needs to know what he’s up against. 

He’ll leave that for later. For now, focus on clothes. After that, focus on his hair. Then maybe makeup. (Maybe not makeup, actually. He’s not good at it — any attempt will probably only make him look worse.)

Jungkook reflects for a few more seconds before deciding that a full classic suit should be good for now. He doesn’t need to know how to dress himself when he can simply go for a classic look that all men look handsome in. He already wears button-up shirts with slacks, but what’s more handsome than that? A suit.

He moves to his small closet, not having to rummage through it for long to find his blazer. The space is cramped, but he doesn’t have a lot of things to hang up. It’s fully black, cut in a way that’s supposed to look flattering on most people. His mom helped fund it when Jungkook first started job hunting. The quality isn’t out of this world, but it’s still the nicest piece of clothing he owns, and definitely the most expensive. His mom wouldn’t stop fawning over how handsome and mature he looked in it, and while Jungkook doesn’t trust his mom to be an accurate judge of his appearance because she calls him handsome no matter what, it’s the most positive reaction she’s ever had to an outfit of his. 

Although that could also be because it’s a symbol of adulthood. She never liked the ripped jeans Jungkook wore in middle school.

Jungkook slips the blazer on, admiring the lines against his body. It still fits him perfectly, because his body hasn’t changed in the few years since he first got it. Jungkook angles his body this way and that in front of his mirror, a tremor of excitement making its way up his spine. It looks good, even without the rest of the ensemble. Maybe he really has been missing out on dressing up all these years. This is fun. 

Thinking about Namjoon seeing him in the outfit tomorrow makes his stomach erupt in nervous butterflies, and he quickly takes the blazer off before sweating all over it. He’s anxious, excited, scared, impatient all at the same time. He’s never had such a strong crush before. 

He hopes Namjoon likes it. 

For good measure, he continues his fashion research on Pinterest in bed before going to sleep. 

A blush sits high on Jungkook’s cheeks when he arrives at the office the next day. He felt highly exposed and silly for biking in a full suit on his way to work, but he’s determined to bike more often in the hopes it might give him some muscle definition. 

He’s always early, and today the only person there before him is Hoseok. Hoseok smiles widely when he spots him, and Jungkook already feels embarrassed before Hoseok has even said anything. He felt good about his outfit yesterday, but actually having to wear it in front of people is a different story altogether. They’re going to notice he put in effort.  

“JK!” Hoseok says loudly, beaming, “I love your suit! Special occasion or just felt like it?”

Jungkook scratches the back of his head, looking down shyly. He knew this would happen. “Um— yeah, just felt like it.” Can Hoseok feel the way Jungkook is lying right now? Is it spelled all over his face that he has a crush? But surely people can just dress up for themselves? Jungkook doesn’t do it, but he knows other people do… 

Hoseok’s smile stays warm. If he thinks anything of it, he doesn’t say it. “It looks really nice!”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook squirms. He escapes to his desk, hoping to hide behind the giant screens. Hoseok’s desk sits diagonal to his, the front of it pressed against the front of Yoongi’s desk next to Jungkook’s, with some space in between for people to walk through. Jungkook doesn’t have the courage to check whether Hoseok is still looking at him, but the small reprieve makes him let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in.

Hoseok’s positive reaction, while embarrassing, gave him some confidence; at the same time, he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle anyone else’s reaction, let alone Namjoon’s. (And Jimin’s. Ugh.)

Jungkook busies himself with turning his PC on and rearranging some notes on his desk when Seokjin arrives. He does so with a slam of the door, not sparing anyone or anything a glance as he rushes past the desks to lock himself in the office toilet. Hoseok startles at the loud noise but doesn’t react beyond that. Seokjin can be… a bit of an oddity, to say the least. Everyone is mostly used to him, by now. Not much surprises them anymore. 

Taehyung arrives quickly after, and Jungkook makes himself as small as possible behind his monitor. His greeting is meek, quiet, and he doesn’t so much see as hear the raised eyebrow and smile in Taehyung’s voice when he greets him back. When Jungkook chances a glance at him, Taehyung gives him a knowing grin. He doesn’t say anything, but Jungkook glares at him with warm cheeks anyway. 

Jimin and Taehyung are usually the last people to arrive at the office, so it doesn’t surprise him when Namjoon and Yoongi walk in next. Jungkook hears Namjoon’s voice before he sees him, and his heart jumps into his chest. Kickstarting a frantic rhythm so familiar to Jungkook when he’s around Namjoon. 

Jungkook feels an overwhelming urge to hide — a feeling so instinctual it takes him all his willpower not to succumb to it the way he usually does. The whole point of him dressing up was for Namjoon to see it. And no matter how tough Jungkook likes to pretend he is, Jimin’s words affected him. He hasn’t made much, if any, progress with Namjoon ever since he first realized he had a crush. It’s a bit harrowing to think he’s been harboring these feelings for the better part of a year without having taken any real action to do anything about them. 

Still, gathering his courage to go talk to Namjoon isn’t easy. With a thundering heart and determination in his chest, Jungkook pushes himself out of his seat. He can’t let himself be too obvious though, so his plan is to pretend he’s going to the break room to get a snack and say hi to Namjoon on the way. Easy. Casual. 

He feels terribly conscious of the way he walks the closer he gets to Namjoon’s voice. Suddenly his strides are too short, too hurried, too heavy, his hips are stiff, he doesn’t know where to put his hands, and oh god Namjoon is right there—

Namjoon is in the middle of a conversation with Yoongi, but they both turn to him the moment Jungkook steps into view. Jungkook forgets how to speak. His heart is in his throat.

“Oh hey,” Namjoon says, smiling at him. 

“Good— Good morning.” Jungkook feels like he’s about to throw up. He never should’ve let himself be egged into speaking to his crush. 

Namjoon’s eyes give Jungkook a quick scan. It’s terrifying. “Nice suit! Is that the one you wore on your first day here?” 

Namjoon’s smile is so genuine, so kind, but Jungkook’s color drains from his face entirely. It had completely slipped his mind. Jungkook can’t believe he’d forgotten to take that into account. His plan of wearing something unexpected and surprising Namjoon is completely ruined. All this worrying only for everything to fall apart before anything had even started. 

But as the words echo in his mind, Jungkook feels warmth building in his chest, spreading back into his face, because—

Namjoon remembered.

“You remember that?” Jungkook asks with a blush, shyly peering up at him through his lashes. His heart stutters in his chest when Namjoon’s smile widens into a grin, bashful yet boyish. 

“Of course! You looked so serious about the whole thing it inspired me a lot. It made me realize I wasn’t alone in trying to make this studio work.”

Jungkook stops breathing. It inspired me. It inspired me a lot. His face must be red as a tomato as his whole body tingles in joy. There aren’t a lot of things Jungkook wants to hear more from Namjoon than those words. To know that he not only has Namjoon’s respect, but inspires him? The person Jungkook looks up to the most?

This is the happiest he’s ever felt. Jungkook knows he’s gaping, that he’s silent, that he should respond with something, but he’s too stunned to speak. Namjoon looks radiant. His smile hasn’t dimmed. It’s only settled into something softer, something Jungkook desperately wants to interpret as fond as he continues looking at Jungkook.

The spell is broken by Yoongi laying his hand on Namjoon’s arm, catching his attention. Jungkook feels himself float back to the ground when Namjoon breaks eye contact. “I’m gonna go make my coffee,” Yoongi says, nodding towards the break room. They’re all standing in front of it, the gray door staring back at them. 

Namjoon startles when Yoongi moves past him to open the door. “Oh, wait. Let me go with you.”

Jungkook watches Namjoon disappear behind the door for a beat, heart pounding loudly in his chest. He presses a hand against it to feel the thrum of it. The beating travels up to his head, blood rushing in his ears as the feeling lingers.

The moment shatters with a snort from behind him. Jungkook’s face twists into a heavy scowl before he even turns around, deepening at the sight of Jimin hiding a smirk behind his hand. His eyes have narrowed with the force of his amusement, eyebrows raised in pity. 

“That’s what you call flirting?”

Jungkook clenches his fists, the surge of warm emotions leaving place for hot frustration. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalking me? Like finally fixing the cube?”

A repeat offender in their bug-testing has been a baffling issue of the playable character turning into a cube in extremely specific, seemingly random situations. Every time they think they’ve come close to fixing it, it inevitably pops up again weeks later. It’s hilarious, but frustrating in its perplexity. 

Jimin doesn’t take the bait. Jungkook shouldn’t have expected him to — Jimin is extremely proud of his work, but he’s always been easy-going about any bugs. A perfect mirror image of Jin, who always looks ready to tear his hair out with every new bug they discover; joking about them to his face when the wound is still fresh is a guaranteed way to inspire his ire for a good week.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, smile widening. His white teeth are all visible. “Your suit is cute, but you’re gonna have to try a bit harder than that. I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

He brushes the front of his shirt off, and Jungkook’s eyes finally take in what he’s wearing. It’s the kind of outfit that seems simple enough that it shouldn’t look as good as it does — a brown jacket on top of a white tank top, jeans, and chunky boots, all accompanied by numerous accessories. It looks good, but Jungkook can’t figure out what makes it stand out. If he wore it, it wouldn’t look nearly as stylish. Fashion continues to elude him, and it annoys him to no end that Jimin has this edge over him. 

Jungkook doesn’t even blink at his outfit being called cute. It sounds mocking coming from Jimin. “What, you’re gonna grope him for a minute?”

Jimin sighs, waving his hand dismissively. “Watch and learn, newbie.”

Newbie????? Does he really think Jungkook is a newbie at flirting?

Well. 

He is. He’s never attempted to do it before this. Even so, he doesn’t think he’s bad enough at it to merit being called a newbie. He squawks, opening his mouth with a retort, but Jimin slaps a hand over it. Jungkook flinches back, surprised.

"Nope! I don't want to hear your whining."

Jungkook's protests come out muffled. The look Jimin gives him is stern, a warning, and Jungkook sends a scathing glare back as he struggles against Jimin's freakishly strong grip. He's thankful Jimin's nails are short, because the way his fingers dig into his cheeks is bordering on painful. Jeez, is typing code all day the secret to arm strength?

Jimin's relentless hold on his face scratches his cheeks raw with his struggling, so Jungkook eventually gives up, slumping in resignation. Jimin continues glaring at him. Jungkook's skin feels warm, and his cheeks ache. 

Jimin glances over Jungkook's shoulder before settling his gaze back onto him. "Are you going to be good and stay quiet?"

Jungkook feels his stomach lurch. It's embarrassing, the way his heart stutters, and he's thankful that the red marks Jimin's fingers will inevitably leave on his face will cover up his visible embarrassment. Outwardly, he scoffs in disagreement, attempting to glare, but finding himself unable to meet Jimin's gaze for more than a second. 

Jimin's grip tightens in warning. Jungkook tries jerking away from the touch again, but then a door opens behind him and Jimin furiously hisses a "stay here and learn" before he removes his hand from Jungkook's face. His touch leaves heat and dull pain behind. Jungkook rubs his cheeks, soothing the ache. 

The moment Jimin lets go, he switches tune, going from Jungkook's worst nightmare to the picture of sweetness. The change gives Jungkook whiplash. 

"Namjoon-hyung! Good morning! I love your shirt." Jimin's tone is cheerful, dripping with fake excitement. It makes Jungkook want to gag. 

Jimin hurries over to Namjoon's side and Jungkook turns, observing the interaction with his cold hands on his cheeks to relieve the heat. 

Namjoon startles at Jimin's sudden exclamation then flusters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah— really? It's not really anything—"

"It really flatters your shape," Jimin interrupts, emphasizing his words. His gaze is intense. 

Even though Jimin is talking out of his ass, Jungkook admits the shirt does look good on Namjoon. But that might be because Namjoon looks good in anything. It's a simple black button-up that pulls taut across his chest when he brings his shoulders back, emphasizing his width. If Namjoon hugged him, Jungkook wonders if he'd be engulfed entirely in Namjoon's arms. He bites his lip.

Any good feelings dissipate as he watches Jimin step closer. He brings a hand up to Namjoon’s collar, adjusting it unnecessarily. Jungkook can tell Jimin’s fingers brush the skin of Namjoon’s neck at the way Namjoon shivers, and feels his chest light up with jealousy. Especially when Namjoon grows bashful, dimples popping as he smiles nervously. 

“Your collar was a bit crooked,” Jimin says, glancing up at Namjoon, who refuses to meet his eyes. Jimin stays there for a beat longer before slowly sliding his fingers off from the shirt and stepping back. Namjoon’s face has been steadily growing redder, and he fiddles with his collar, ruining any work Jimin might’ve done to fix it had there been anything to fix.

He clears his throat. “Thank you,” he stutters. “Um, I should be—” he points in the general direction of his desk. “Yeah,” he finishes helplessly. He runs off without another glance.

Yoongi walks out of the break room just as Jimin turns towards Jungkook with a smirk, and Jungkook opens his mouth with a scathing reply on the tip of his tongue—

A blood-curdling scream echoes from the restroom. Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook all turn to it with a startle, just in time to see Hoseok come hurtling out with a horrified expression. Hoseok is easily scared, so everyone is mostly used to his dramatic reactions of fear, but the horror on his face is unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. 

“What the fuck happened in the restroom?!” He screeches, pointing maniacally towards the closed door behind him. Jimin inches hesitantly towards it, followed by everyone else as they gather around. Namjoon comes running, ever the leader.

“I think I’m going to puke,” Hoseok pants, looking green. Namjoon gasps in alarm, rushing to grab a trash can that he places in Hoseok’s arms. Hoseok heaves and gags over it. 

Taehyung doesn’t waste another second and throws the door wide open. As soon as he does, the pungent smell of death immediately permeates the entire space. He gags heavily. Jungkook covers his nose, nausea building violently in his stomach as the smell continues invading his nostrils, and he sees everyone keel over in a similar fashion at the assault on their senses. Jungkook can’t imagine the sight Taehyung is currently being presented with. 

“Oh God,” Taehyung says, before gagging again. His stomach makes a dangerous gurgling sound. Yoongi desperately yells at him to close the door, pinching his nose shut tightly. Taehyung does so with the last few remnants of his strength, immediately collapsing afterwards. Jimin scurries towards the closest window to open it as wide as it’ll go. 

“What? What does it look like in there?” Jungkook asks nervously. Hoseok and Taehyung both refuse to answer. Jungkook grows even more nervous. Namjoon rubs Hoseok’s back and heads towards Yoongi to help him calm down. Yoongi looks as miserable as Jungkook feels, still harshly pinching in his nose and scowling heavily.

“Okay, well,” Namjoon starts, tentatively. “Someone needs to clean it.”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. He shoots a hand towards the side, pointing at Jimin. “Jimin volunteered.”

Jimin jerks angrily. “Well, clearly, you’re raring to go—”

“Just make them clean together,” Taehyung pipes up unhelpfully, looking mostly recovered from his nausea spell. He’s still crouched on the floor, sweat dotting his hairline, but he never misses a chance to create more chaos. 

“No!” Both Jimin and Jungkook yell together. 

“Where’s Seokjin?” Hoseok suddenly asks, breathing heavily. Everyone stops in their tracks, snapping their heads towards Seokjin’s desk. 

He’s there, hunched over his keyboard with a dangerously pale hand clutching his stomach. Jungkook sees the realization dawn on everyone’s face in real time. 

“Ah,” Taehyung says simply. 

Namjoon sends Seokjin home because he looks terrible and is clearly not fit to work. They avoid the restroom for the rest of the day, keeping the door firmly shut to avoid any of the smell leaking into the space, and keep a window open as a precaution. The neighboring office kindly agrees to let them use their restroom for the day instead when Namjoon asks. Jungkook feels embarrassed having to walk into an unknown office and unknown people just to go pee, but he bears with it. 

No one volunteers to clean the toilet. Namjoon grows restless as the day draws closer to an end and hesitantly proposes they could do rock paper scissors to determine who the victim will be, but eventually Yoongi grows so tired from the smell sneaking past under the door that he does it himself, marching in determinedly with a mask over his face, yelling in rage and horror all the while. 

He goes straight for the break room when he’s done. 

Jungkook still hasn’t forgiven Jimin for the events of that morning, so he starts planning his revenge. Yes, he’s petty. So what? Some people deserve it. 

His first order of business, after brainstorming for a while and sending glares towards the back of Jimin’s head, is to say, loudly, when Namjoon comes back from the neighboring office: “I think Jimin might have diarrhea, too! He’s been farting all afternoon.”

Taehyung had gone out for a short smoke break, the days’ events having aged him five years. He seemed haunted by what he’d seen. Hoseok snorts, covering it up with a cough, keeping his eyes glued to his screen.

Namjoon stops in his tracks, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He looks slightly fearful, even. Jungkook shivers thinking about the trauma everyone went through that morning, but he doesn’t feel so bad weaponizing it if it means getting back at Jimin. Jimin spins in his chair, lips raising in a sneer.

Namjoon turns towards him. Jimin immediately drops the expression. “Is that true? Do you need to go home, too?”

Jimin laughs it off, strained. The side glance he throws Jungkook’s way is deadly, something Jungkook thinks he should’ve gotten used to by now but suspects he never will. Something about Jimin’s eyes intimidates him like nothing else. Maybe it’s the fear of everything Jimin is capable of that he hasn’t shown yet. 

“Of course not!” Jimin chuckles, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I think Jungkook is embarrassed I heard him fart really loudly, so he’s trying to pin it on me.”

Jungkook feels dread drip down his spine when Namjoon turns his gaze back on him, hot, crushing shame bursting in his chest. He opens his mouth, panicking, eyes flitting between Namjoon and Jimin. “He’s lying! I don’t know what he’s talking about!”

“O—kay,” Namjoon says, looking between them. Jungkook and Jimin continue glaring at each other, and when Jungkook glances back at Namjoon, he looks bewildered. “You’ll tell me if you’re not feeling well…?”

“Of course,” Jungkook hurries to say. He needs to salvage the situation. “I’ll tell you if it looks like Jimin is about to shit himself.”

Jimin snorts loudly. “Funny you say that, considering you currently look—”

“—perfectly normal!”

“I’m just… gonna leave you guys to it,” Namjoon says quietly. His eyebrows are creased in confusion. Worry. He slips away just as Jungkook think he wants to see that expression forever — it makes Namjoon look stern in a hopelessly attractive way. Jungkook doesn’t know what it says about him that he wants his crush to be a bit strict with him. Mean, maybe. It’s not Namjoon’s style, and Jungkook thinks he’d cry if Namjoon was genuinely disappointed in him, but that doesn’t stop Jungkook from fidgeting at the idea of it. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The moment Namjoon finds himself out of earshot, Jimin huffs. It’s haughty, the way he rolls his eyes at Jungkook before turning back to his screen, arranging his body into something sweetly composed. Head raised, fingers tapping lightly on his keyboard. Like Jungkook can’t see the tight clench to his jaw, the tense set to his shoulders. The contrast — the barely restrained fury — sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. It’s clear Jimin won’t let this go.  

Jungkook monitors him for a few more minutes before tentatively going back to his own work. He feels on edge the rest of the afternoon, flinching every time someone walks past him. Taehyung looks at him strangely whenever he does, but Jungkook ignores him. 

Jimin seems to leave him alone apart from glaring at him whenever Jungkook meets his eye, which is customary for them anyway. Jungkook feels tight as a bowstring as the end of the day draws near, but Jimin leaves without another word. He’s eerily calm as he walks past Jungkook’s desk, expression blank and composed. Jungkook watches him, goosebumps pebbling his skin. 

Somehow, it feels like a warning of what’s to come. 

The warning wasn't for the destruction of Jimin's revenge. Jungkook runs into him the following day.

Jungkook usually does all his grocery shopping on Friday, leaving his weekends free for other chores he enjoys more, along with his hobbies — which include video games and very soft singing. (He's embarrassed by the prospect of his neighbors hearing him.) Faced with empty deodorant and shampoo bottles, he'd been left with no choice but to go on an emergency shopping trip after work.

Hindsight is 20/20. Regret is a bitch.

Jimin stands in the middle of the skincare aisle, inspecting a bottle of serum in his hand. Jungkook doesn’t realize it’s him at first; by the time he gets close enough to notice —- heart lurching, alerting him to the imminent danger, his heels digging in to come to a rapid halt — it's too late. Jimin is too observant. His head snaps to the side, his gaze heavy as it settles on Jungkook.

He's dressed casually, which Jungkook realizes he’s never seen before. His outfit isn't too dissimilar to Jungkook's — a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, black cap on his head, matching with Jungkook’s own t-shirt and sweatpants. But that’s a weird thought to have, so Jungkook dismisses it. 

The harsh lighting in the store makes him somehow look both sharper and softer at once. It washes his features out, the shadow from his cap darkening his gaze. Jungkook notices he’s not wearing makeup, the first time he’s seen Jimin without it. His skin is slightly uneven, and there’s a hint of dull darkness under his eyes. He still looks terribly handsome. It’s unfair. He doesn’t smell of anything either, the muted scent of sweet perfume he usually wears absent. 

He seems like a different person, somehow, like this. It’s a bit fascinating to witness. 

The Jimin he knows comes rushing back the moment Jimin scowls, then sneers at Jungkook. Immediately, Jungkook is brought out of his trance, feeling the urge to cower under the glare that’s still just as intimidating without all the glam. He comes to his senses, indignation rising within him — why is Jimin mad at him? This is the supermarket closest to his apartment, and he’s certain Jimin doesn’t come here often, because Jungkook has never seen him here before.

“Why are you here?” he grumbles, accusing. 

Jimin gives a pointed look towards his basket. Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“You're not funny.”

Jimin brushes his shirt off fakely, putting the serum back on the shelf. He hums in question. “I’m not sure I understand. Is there any reason I shouldn’t be here?”

“Yes!” Jungkook snaps. “I shop here! Go somewhere else!”

“Hm,” Jimin says, casually as ever. He enjoys the fact that he’s encroaching upon Jungkook’s space. It’s obvious in the glint of his eyes that he doesn’t mind having to deal with Jungkook’s presence — if it means having the upper hand on him. “Do you think Namjoon would enjoy having a childish partner?”

“Well, do you think Namjoon would like—” Jungkook cuts himself off. Cutting his losses short. He doesn’t have a comeback for that. He doesn’t know how to describe Jimin’s actions in a way that doesn’t make him seem insane — childish. They’re annoying, without a doubt, but saying that would only reinforce Jimin’s point. “Whatever,” he says instead. Lamely. 

“Nice shirt, by the way,” Jimin says apropos nothing. 

Oh God. Jungkook feels blood rush to his cheeks when he looks down and notices he’s wearing his Sylveon t-shirt. Combined with the glasses sitting on his nose, he must look like the stereotypical vision of a nerd. 

“Can’t say the same to you,” he quips, defensive. Glancing at Jimin’s outfit again, his eyes get stuck on Jimin’s exposed skin instead. The slope of his arms. They’re skinny like his own, bare of any visible muscles. Hm. Maybe he could still have a faint outline of abs, though? 

He continues staring like he could somehow see through Jimin’s shirt. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s doing — he immediately snaps his gaze away, avoiding Jimin’s eyes. The shelves are brimming with colorful pots and bottles, a collection of different promises written on them. It seems like a scam to him, but every attractive person he knows swears by skincare. Oh. Is that something he should start investigating?

Jimin stays silent throughout his internal dilemma, and when Jungkook braves peeking back at him, his heart stutters in embarrassment at Jimin’s raised eyebrows. That’s when he decides to speak.

“Were you checking me out?”

“What—” Jungkook splutters, flushing. “No!”

“Hey, I get it. I know I’m—”

“Shut up,” Jungkook grouches, interrupting him. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with Jimin’s games right now, so he turns to leave without another word; it’s rude, but he doesn’t care. That’s what he wants. 

The patter of footsteps immediately follows behind him, close enough that there’s no doubt as to whether Jungkook is being followed. Jungkook doesn’t want to think of it as ominous — Jimin might be intimidating, but he doesn’t want to admit that — but they don’t exactly go out of their way to interact with each other in peaceful ways. Jungkook turns a corner. Jimin follows.

He starts sweating. Can’t he shop in peace? Jimin’s presence is so overbearing, it feels like he’s breathing down the back of Jungkook’s neck. It’s creepy. Jimin is a creep. A creepy little weirdo Namjoon should fire regardless of his decent programming skills, just for lowering team morale and trying to flirt with his boss. There’s not an ounce of morality to be found in the man.

Jungkook turns more corners and ends up in the exact same place they started. He whirls on Jimin, who comes to a stop — eyes wide open in surprise before he regains his composure. 

“Stop stalking me,” Jungkook hisses, hating how his voice borders on a whine.

Jimin’s free hand settles on his waist as he shifts his weight to one leg. It looks like a pose, but the way he moves into it is too casual to be calculated. “Can’t a guy just happen to need the same things as you?”

“Really,” Jungkook says, deadpan. “Is this you trying to get back at me for yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” Jimin asks, widening his eyes in mock confusion. His tone is unnaturally high-pitched. “What happened yesterday? I don’t think anything did.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but then snaps it shut, cheeks heating up at the reminder of how it went. He really hopes he didn’t make a bigger fool of himself in front of Namjoon than Jimin did. Knowing Jimin (which— he doesn’t, really, but he knows what to expect when it comes to their battles for the most part), it doesn’t matter much whether Jungkook succeeded in his goal of making Jimin look bad. The fact that he attempted to do it is offensive enough. Jungkook can’t say he doesn’t relate to that to some extent. 

Having to describe the situation just to try and extort Jimin’s intentions from him doesn’t seem worth it. Jimin is the most stubborn and confusing person he’s ever met — he’d rather not try wrangling anything out of him. 

Jungkook turns away. If Jimin insists on playing games, then Jungkook will simply refuse to play.

Jungkook heads to the next aisle over in search of shampoo, Jimin following without a word. Jungkook scans the shelves, hesitating when he spots the basic shampoo he usually gets. Heat creeps down his neck as he stews in self-consciousness under Jimin’s observant gaze; ignoring him isn’t as easy as he expected it would be when he feels like he’s been put under a magnifying glass by someone on the lookout for any potential flaw. What if he’s committing some grave hair sin that he’s unaware of? What if he somehow puts his hair-washing habits under public scrutiny?

With a determined purse to his lips — ignoring the blush on his face — he grabs the bottle quickly and tucks it under his arm, hidden from Jimin’s gaze. 

Jimin steps closer, bending to look at the row of bottles Jungkook plucked his shampoo from, pensive hand on his chin. He grabs one himself, inspecting it. Turning it this way and that unnecessarily. “Oh. You chose this one,” he simply says. His tone would sound neutral in any other circumstance. 

Jungkook bristles. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jimin says breezily. “Well—” he starts, putting the bottle back on the shelf. “It’s shit, but whatever floats your boat.”

Jungkook clutches the bottle closer to himself. “Didn’t know you were a hairdresser now.”

“Not quite,” Jimin hums, readjusting his cap over his head. His deliberate vagueness is incredibly frustrating. It’s an obvious attempt at getting a rise out of Jungkook, and it’s working. 

Still, Jungkook isn’t the kind of person to give in so easily. So what if Jimin finds it bad? He’s not exactly known (by Jungkook only, but that’s irrelevant) for having the best opinions. The shampoo works well enough. 

“Why are you even looking at what I’m buying?” 

Jimin shrugs, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “Gathering information about my enemy.”

“Great,” Jungkook grumbles.

He turns his back to Jimin, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses and heaving a heavy sigh. While he’s here, he may as well stock up on his body wash that he’s running out of, but he needs to weigh the pros and cons of this situation accurately — Jimin isn’t likely to leave him alone any time soon, but he could very easily grab what he needs then leave immediately. Some battles aren’t meant to be fought, but he doesn’t want to feel like he’s running away. It’s a matter of principle.

He needs to learn how to stand tall in front of Jimin. Otherwise, how else is he supposed to match him in a war of seduction? Jimin isn’t afraid of confronting him and doing whatever needs to be done. 

Nodding to himself, Jungkook steps over to the body wash section, quickly grabbing the first floral, sweet-smelling one he sees. 

“Oh, that’s the same one I use.”

Jungkook almost drops it. He rushes to put it back — the other bottles wobbling dangerously as he does — grabbing the one next to it instead. Jimin laughs. It doesn’t sound mocking, for once — it’s amused, and a quick glance in his direction shows his eyes curled up at the corners as he smiles widely. It’s weird. Jungkook has never seen that expression directed towards him. Somehow, it doesn’t make him feel good, because it’s still at his expense. Jimin is toying with him. 

“Is it really?” Jungkook asks, annoyed.

“Not kidding.”

Jungkook grunts, gathering his items in one arm and making his way towards the cashiers, Jimin hot on his heels. Jungkook tells himself to keep his mouth shut.

“Haven’t you had enough?” he asks, frustration reaching its boiling point. It’s not the worst interaction he’s ever had with Jimin, but he’d rather be left alone. Especially on his day off. 

“What can I say—” Jimin starts, but he’s interrupted by Jungkook’s phone ringing.

Jungkook drops a bottle in his haste to take his phone out and turn it off, Hatsune Miku’s voice blaring from the speakers. He doesn’t bother looking at who the caller was, whole face burning hot red, embarrassment dripping down his stomach like hot coals. He’d forgotten he’d recently changed his ringtone to that.

“Was that Hatsune Miku—”

“No,” Jungkook desperately says, before his phone lights up with another call, Miku’s voice booming in the aisle once again. This time, he spots his mom’s name on the screen, cursing internally at her horrible timing. 

Barely two seconds after he’s denied the call, she calls again. Jungkook groans. His mom never gives up before having attempted to call five times in a row. He quickly picks the call up, hating the way he can feel his cheeks burning.

“Hello?”

“Why did you decline my call?” his mom asks, whining.

“I’m kind of busy right now,” Jungkook hisses, quickly glancing to the side. He doesn’t spot Jimin, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there. 

It’s the wrong thing to say. If he’s really busy, he’ll put his phone on Do Not Disturb. His mom latches on to his desperation immediately — he can hear her perk up. “Oh? Did you finally find yourself a boy?”

“Mom!”

“You know you’ll have to let me meet him sooner rather than later. We wouldn’t want another high-school Marcus situation—”

“I get it,” Jungkook interrupts. “Can you please stop bringing him up?” he pleads.

She chuckles, and Jungkook hears Jimin snort at the same time. He spins on his heel, glaring at Jimin. The way he has a fist covering his smirk. “Aw, my baby. I’m sorry. You know I don’t mean it!”

“Yes, yes,” he rushes to say, impatient. The knowledge that Jimin can hear everything she says makes him squirm. “Did you need something?”

She huffs. “Can’t I call just to ask how my son is doing?”

“He’s doing very well, thank you, can I go now?”

Jimin is now rubbing a finger across his lips, still stretched into that infuriating smirk. His mom squawks indignantly. “I see you’re too busy to talk to your own mother . Fine! Go attend to your business, then! Clearly you have better things to do!”

She cuts the call. 

“A momma’s boy, huh?” Jimin says, smiling widely.

“Shut up!” This is potentially one of the most humiliating experiences of Jungkook’s life. It would’ve been bad enough in front of anyone else, but Jimin is the absolute worst person it could’ve happened with. Just by the grin on his face, Jungkook can tell this is prime blackmail material. His whole face must be painted red. 

He hurries to pick up the bottle he dropped, scurrying to pay. Jimin is right behind him the whole time, snickering to himself under his breath, but Jungkook dashes out of the store before Jimin can follow him all the way home as well. He doesn’t doubt that Jimin would. Clearly, he finds joy in spending time with Jungkook in his own twisted way when he has the opportunity to torment him. 

Jungkook slumps against his closed apartment door, screaming into his own hands.

He sends his mom an apology text later that day. She accepts it quickly enough, although not before sending him a wall of angry emojis.

Things don’t change much at work on Monday. Jimin and Jungkook continue to ignore each other for the most part, Seokjn comes back healthy and alive with a dramatic entrance that Hoseok claps at; Yoongi has a hard time looking Seokjin in the eye. All normal things. 

Jungkook doesn’t wear his suit again, instead putting effort into his hair. The results aren’t great or particularly noticeable, and he deflates when Namjoon doesn’t comment on it. Even Taehyung doesn’t notice anything until Jungkook points it out. 

He sighs. Drags his pen around on his Wacom tablet miserably. Back to fashion, it is. 

He almost forgets about Jimin’s unspoken promise to get back at him from Friday until he hears his name from across the room, Jimin in an amicable conversation with Namjoon — he’s dressed impeccably, hair pushed off his forehead, leaning against the side of Namjoon’s desk and smiling widely.

“Jungkook told me he only showers once every two weeks,” he says, laughing. 

Namjoon’s eyes widen in horror before he starts chuckling too, disbelieving. “No way.”

“No way!” Jungkook repeats, yelling from across the room as he jumps out of his chair. Taehyung flinches across from him. Jungkook slams his hands on his desk. “What the hell are you telling him!” 

Jimin glances over his shoulder. Smug smile on his face. “What? That’s what you told me.”

Taehyung grimaces in disgust. Jungkook’s jaw drops open in offense. “I never told you shit!” He looks desperately towards Namjoon, pleading with his eyes. Namjoon stutters weakly, scratching his cheek guiltily.

“Dude. That’s gross,” Taehyung says. He doesn’t look away from his screen. 

“Jimin is lying out of his ass. I shower every day.” Jungkook pushes his lips out in displeasure, hating the way he has a tendency to sound whiny when he’s upset. 

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, making his way over. He’s still smiling, but the way he’s walking is menacing. Spelling trouble. 

“I’m sure,” Jungkook says tightly, leaning away when Jimin steps into his space. His heart skips a nervous beat when Jimin grabs his arm, lifting it, dipping his head towards Jungkook’s chest and inhaling deeply. Jungkook stops breathing. He wonders what he smells like — strong perfumes give him headaches, so he tries to keep it subtle, relying on mostly body wash. He does have a tendency to sweat nervously, so he hopes that smell doesn’t come through his deodorant.

Jimin hums, dropping his arm. “Inconclusive. You could’ve showered for the first time in two weeks yesterday.”

“I—” Jungkook has no idea how to react. His brain has stuttered to a halt. “What?”

"Come on, stop teasing him," Hoseok pipes up. "I definitely would've noticed if he didn't shower enough."

Hoseok is an angel. If Namjoon didn't exist, Hoseok would definitely be Jungkook's favorite coworker. 

Speaking of Namjoon—

His mouth is curved up into a little smile as he looks over the group. Fond. Jungkook's heart skips a beat for an entirely different reason, finding himself awestruck by the sight. His features are soft, so loving, and fuck. Jungkook's chest fills with something light and warm, rushing to his head. He feels floaty. 

He jerks back when Jimin snaps a finger in front of his face, his eyebrows drawn together. 

"Don't float away, lover boy," he murmurs, low enough that Taehyung hopefully doesn't hear. God knows his senses become supernatural when he has the opportunity to be nosy. Jungkook’s bubble bursts, any positive feeling leaving him, sending him crashing, forced to confront his uncomfortable proximity to Jimin instead. He leans away, lips pursed. 

“It’s really not body odor we have to worry about,” Yoongi says dryly, pointedly looking at Seokjin. 

Seokjin’s ears go red. He clears his throat. “You’re right. It’s your habit of picking your nose.”

Yoongi leans forward, affronted, the laziness of his slouch replaced by a rigid tension in his shoulders. “You’re a liar if you pretend like you don’t do it yourself!”

The accusation ripples through the group. The catalyst for a wider, more chaotic debate — because God knows this team can’t ever have a civil discussion about a normal topic. Nose-picking frequency is something everyone clearly has an opinion on, because the room quickly fills with the tin of heated discussions, lively as ever. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, refraining from participating. (He definitely has some thoughts of his own, but he won’t stoop so low as to voluntarily engage with the discussion. Not when Jimin has left him frustrated enough already.) He slips out of the room. “You guys are impossible,” he says to an audience of zero.

The break room is thankfully mostly silent, only muted words slipping into the space. He grabs the packet of salted peanuts from the snack stash, making himself comfortable on the couch to scroll through Pinterest for a bit, as he’s started doing to get fashion inspiration. He finds the app easier to use now that he’s gotten into the flow of things. He thinks he might be ready to venture out into a clothing store soon to do some shopping. (Sparingly. He’s not that rich.)

He eats his way through half the bag before deciding to head back, folding the edges neatly and laying it carefully back on the table to avoid spilling anything. He doesn’t know who consistently brings salted peanuts to the office, but he’s eternally grateful towards them, he thinks as he continues crunching on the last few in his mouth. 

The debate has mostly died down by the time he’s back, although conversations still flow smoothly. Just calmer. No yelling. Everyone has made their way to their desk already, so Jungkook scurries towards his chair. It creaks when he sits down, making him grimace. The sound is going to drive him insane sooner rather than later. 

Taehyung’s face is set into its usual blank veneer as he clicks around, the screen reflecting in his unblinking eyes. Time for work and no talking, then. 

Jungkook wiggles his mouse to wake his monitor from sleep, then clicks on the icon of his software to open it.

Except when he does, it opens the context menu.

He makes a small noise of confusion in the back of his throat, clicking on it again. Same thing. “What the fuck?” he mumbles to himself. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s wrong. The left and right mouse inputs are switched, for some not-so-inexplicable reason; he has an inkling of what’s going on. Or what went on when he was away from his computer. 

The switch is immediately grating — even when he forces himself to be conscious of it, muscle memory kicks in faster than he can think, every time without fail. Opening the settings takes longer than he’d like to admit, and things are only made worse by the fact that he can’t find the settings for mouse clicks as quickly as he’d like — in fact, he doesn’t find it at all. His frustration quickly reaches its tipping point when he continues forgetting to flip his inputs, cursing as he pulls up Google. 

Taehyung snickers. A tiny, quiet thing. 

Jungkook shoots his head up in confusion, suspicion — and indignation — building in his gut. He looks back at his screen, clicking on the wrong side of the mouse again. 

Another chuckle rings behind him. 

Jungkook jolts in his chair, heart stumbling over itself at the sudden scare. He whirls around, not surprised to see Jimin leaning his back against the wall, legs and arms crossed as a gleeful smile plays on his face. The shock from the sudden noise quickly subsides as he takes stock of his feelings, finding himself entirely unsurprised at the sight. He should’ve suspected this immediately. 

“You!”

Jimin tips his chin towards the screen, grinning with his white teeth on full display. “Having a bit of trouble?”

Taehyung giggles. Jungkook turns to him with betrayal written clearly (he hopes) all over his features. Taehyung puts his hands up defensively, placatingly. “What! It was funny!”

Jungkook purses his lips, trying not to sulk. He can never be genuinely mad at Taehyung, but he admits the coalition with Jimin against him leaves him less than pleased. 

He doesn’t see it when Jimin steps closer — only feels it when a body brushes against his, leaning over him. Jimin’s weight against the back of the chair presses it ever so slightly forward, his knuckles lightly brushing against Jungkook’s left shoulder. It takes him a while to realize Jimin has put a hand on his chair, left frozen by the heat of Jimin’s body against his. He doesn’t smell oppressive, only light, subtly sweet. Flowery. It’s nice. Not befitting of his nightmarish presence. 

Jimin grabs his hand and lifts it from the mouse carelessly to replace it with his own, clicking away at the settings page to hopefully fix the problem he caused. As he does so, he turns his head slightly, sniffing Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. 

“You ended up using the same body wash as me, after all?”

Jungkook stutters, face heating up at the reminder of that incident. “Of course not!” He turns his head towards Jimin, offended, freezing, then snapping his gaze away when he realizes how close Jimin’s face is. His skin is so smooth. Jesus. Jungkook genuinely hates that Jimin is pretty, sometimes. He doesn’t handle being close to attractive people very well. Not that Jimin is attractive beyond having a nice face. 

He’s so distracted he doesn’t pay attention to what Jimin is doing until he pulls away. His hand is still on the back of Jungkook’s chair. “Okay, all set,” he says. 

Jungkook quickly grips his mouse away to close the settings screen, only to realize the inputs are still flipped. Jimin snorts. Jungkook huffs a fake laugh. “Very funny,” he grumbles. 

At least Jimin actually opened the right settings window for him. Jungkook resets the settings himself before glancing at him. “Why are you still here? Go away.” He makes a shooing motion, impatient. 

“Aw JK,” Taehyung coos. “Don’t be grumpy!”

“I’m gonna be a whole lot grumpier if he doesn’t leave,” Jungkook replies, looking at Taehyung as he says it. Jimin is still too close for comfort. 

“Come on, guys,” Namjoon pops up out of thin air. For such a big guy (comparatively speaking — in a room full of shut-in nerds), he sure can be sneaky when he wants to. Jungkook swears he has a sixth sense for conflicts in the team sometimes. “Leave the guy alone.”

Jungkook’s heart swells in his chest, looking up at Namjoon with wide, adoring eyes. Jimin turns that same look to him, jumping in to defend himself innocently. “We weren’t bothering him! It was a harmless prank between friends. Right?” As he says it, he drops a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, fingers squeezing. Scarcely digging in. There’s always an undercurrent of something threatening and vaguely ominous during every interaction Jungkook has with him.

Jungkook pushes his lips out into a slight pout. Playing it up. He may dislike Jimin with every fiber of his being, but not enough to go whining about it to his crush, because he’s an adult. Namjoon doesn’t need to know that right now, though. It’s embarrassing, but he has to do what needs to be done. 

“No.”

Namjoon’s mouth curves down in concern, gaze dropping to the hand Jimin has on Jungkook’s shoulder. He seems conflicted. Something about Jungkook’s expression must convince him, because he nods to himself. It’s barely perceptible. “Okay,” he starts slowly, making his way closer. He looks at Jimin. “I think pranking time is over. Please let Jungkook get back to his work.”

Jungkook feels the way Jimin’s grip tenses. His fingers flex before removing themselves, leaving Jungkook’s shoulder feeling cold. Despite this, his voice sounds light when he replies. “Sure. It was over, anyway.”

He walks without another glance — not even in Namjoon’s direction — making his way back quietly to his own desk. Once there, he switches his screen back to his code, seemingly getting back to work without issue. Namjoon’s lips thin in remorse, and he runs a hand through his hair. He does his best to send Jungkook a quick warm smile before hurrying back to his desk, but Jungkook can tell he doesn’t like having to reprimand anyone. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels high on vindication. He doesn’t like adding onto Namjoon’s worries, but damn if seeing Jimin get reprimanded, however lightly, doesn’t feel good. He has to bite his lip to stop a dumb grin from breaking out on his face, reminding himself that Taehyung is right in front of him. There’s no doubt he has an inkling of the rivalry between him and Jimin — if Jimin hasn’t straight up told him everything, considering how close they are — but he doesn’t want to seem like an asshole. 

He simply thinks Jimin got what was coming to him. 

He doesn’t even mind when Jimin glares at him (as is customary) as he walks past Jungkook’s desk to leave the office for the day. Winning feels amazing.

The store keeps playing the most grating pop from its speakers, and Jungkook thinks he might get a headache if another employee tries to help him.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has an idea of what he’s looking for, but he’s still no fashion expert. That doesn’t mean he wants, or needs, help.

That — unfortunately — turns out to be the least of his worries. 

There’s something to be said about winning some and losing some. His mom always used to stress the importance of balance. Jungkook has taken her words to her heart, and to this day he still believes the universe takes and gives in equal measure. Jungkook’s historical win should’ve set him on edge, or at least prepared him for the possibility of an incoming disaster.

He accidentally bumps into Jimin. 

Jimin, who happens to be at the same clothing store, at the same time, in the exact same place. He’s in the same outfit he wore at the office, a red leather jacket over a black shirt, silver chains around his neck, black jeans tucked into combat boots. His fingers are covered in rings where they’re wrapped around a shirt, and they go slack as Jimin's expression twists into a grimace — nose wrinkling like Jungkook is a stain on his existence — before shifting to horror with a gasp. 

Jungkook doesn't have time to process the swift change before Jimin is ripping the leather jacket Jungkook is holding out of his hands, ignoring his protests.

His mouth drops open in disgust as he looks over it. He holds it away from his body like it's filthy. "Don't get this wretched thing. Faux leather is atrocious in just about every way."

See, the thing is — Jungkook isn't sure of the kind of aesthetic to opt for, but enough scrolling on Pinterest has convinced him that leather jackets are timelessly cool pieces of clothing that not only look good on everyone, but instantly elevate the look of any outfit. 

Now, the second thing is — Jungkook isn’t rich. His mom occasionally sends him support money under the pretense of it being a gift, because she worries about his prospects as an indie game developer. Jungkook has learned to accept it gratefully — with an imaginary bow towards her when the money appears in his bank account and an actual one when he sees her in-person (which isn’t often) — because she’s stubborn and constantly frets over him. Jimin wasn’t entirely off-base when he called Jungkook a momma’s boy. It’s just that Jungkook doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. 

A real leather jacket is entirely out of Jungkook’s means, but faux leather is cheap and still looks good to him, so he didn’t question his decision to get the first jacket he saw. 

Jungkook doesn’t know much about clothes, but he thinks he should’ve studied more about them if he’d known he would’ve ended up being confronted by his local fashion expert. He’s embarrassed to have been caught doing something potentially very dumb out of a lack of knowledge, but then he thinks— why is this any of Jimin’s business in the first place?

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he grumbles.

Jimin pulls the jacket away when Jungkook reaches for it, holding it out of reach. Jungkook growls. Jimin is unphased. “I’m not letting you waste money on something that’ll disintegrate in a few months before ending up in a landfill. Absolutely not.” He hangs it on a rack behind him before crossing his arms, looking at Jungkook seriously. “If you want cheap but good quality leather, buy it secondhand. I can show you some good stores.”

Jungkook blinks. This is… new. He doesn’t know whether he should thank Jimin or not. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

“The audacity of these shops to sell those plastic horrors,” Jimin sneers, twisting his head and narrowing his eyes at the jacket. Seeing Jimin turn his glare on something that isn’t Jungkook for once is new. A bit uncanny. It’s not often that Jungkook is hit by the realization that Jimin is a real person and not just someone sent to torment him. 

Jimin turns to look at him again. He rolls his eyes. “Wipe that stupid look off your face. You look like a shark.”

A— “What?”

Jimin purses his lips, his grip on his arms tightening. Jungkook thinks he sees redness creep up his face, and— he blinks furiously. Is he embarrassed? “Do you not know those sharks with googly eyes?” Jungkook does not. Jimin waits a moment for him to respond, and when the silence stretches, he clears his throat. “Well. Anyway.”

Jungkook’s mind has stuttered to a halt, struck dumb by the sight of Jimin blushing. He didn’t think it was possible for Jimin to feel embarrassment. A voice at the back of his head whispers to him that he should be celebrating this feat, but the larger part of him is left stupefied. 

Jimin huffs. “If you’re just going to continue gaping silently at me, I’m leaving. See ya.”

Jungkook jolts back into proper awareness when Jimin squeezes past him, their shoulders so close to brushing that Jungkook feels the contact anyway. He shakes himself off with a little laugh, breaking out into full giggles when Jimin is out of sight. Who would have guessed that the secret to gaining the upper hand on Jimin was to stay silent and let him talk himself into the ground? It’s an unconventional strategy Jungkook doesn’t think would work in any other context — considering their obstinate proclivity for ignoring each other whenever possible — but getting the chance to witness its effect in person is the highlight of his week. 

After Namjoon talking to him, of course.

The reminder of Namjoon has Jungkook sobering up, coming back to the problem at hand — without that leather jacket, Jungkook has no idea what to do. A few other people mill around, slowly parsing through the racks on racks of clothing, and Jungkook figures he may as well join them. He may not be leaving with his primary target in hand, but he figures he can still find something with his overarching objective in mind. He’s a bit flustered to have been robbed of his most concrete solution to his fashion problem, but Jimin never told him where to find the actual leather jackets he mentioned, and Jungkook would rather die than willingly ask him. 

He could get the faux leather jacket out of spite — after all, it’s not like he’s keen on listening to Jimin. Pleasing him, even less. But Jimin is a clothes guy who clearly knows his shit. If he says something is a waste of money, then Jungkook will take his word for it. He doesn’t seem like the type to lie about his knowledge, but rather use it against people who know less than he does. To embarrass them that way. 

Definitely a smartass and a know-it-all.

Jungkook makes his way through the racks, scanning them superficially, not knowing what he’s looking for. He glances around, feeling sweat build in his pits. Can people tell he has no idea what he’s doing? Is the discomfort obvious on his face? 

The men’s section is a fourth of the size of the women’s, so it doesn’t take him long to cover the whole floor. He doesn’t bump into Jimin again, so he assumes he’s left, glad to know he’s not there to notice the way Jungkook retraces his steps and rifles through the stacks of clothing haphazardly, frustrated at the way he gravitates towards basics he already has. At least he has the self-awareness to recognize he shouldn’t spend money on anything he doesn’t think will add much to his closet. At the same time, he doesn’t feel confident enough to go for the flashier pieces. Scared that he’d just make them look awkward. 

“Watching you is sad.”

Jungkook jumps with a startle, whipping his head back and meeting Jimin’s gaze with wide eyes. He immediately drops the t-shirt softly pinched between his fingers, a blush creeping up his face. Jimin is good at upsetting him, but he’d rather not have to deal with his mockery more than he has to.. 

“Leave me alone,” he snaps. It’s bad enough that he’s embarrassed himself in front of Jimin at work, but it can’t keep happening outside of it on top of that. 

Jimin places a hand on his hip, his rings glinting. “Do you need help?”

Jungkook’s face burns hotter, anger rearing its head. The question feels mocking. “No.”

“Okay, sorry. That wasn’t a question. I’m helping you. What are you looking for?”

Jungkook frowns. Somehow the question feels like a trap. Extending a benevolent hand is— something Jimin has never done before. To him, at least. The only place Jungkook could imagine it happening is within the context of work. This doesn’t serve Jimin in any way, so Jungkook doesn’t see why the offer would be genuine. 

“I don’t want your help.”

Jimin tilts his head. “But you need it?”

“No,” Jungkook scoffs.

Jimin steps closer, jabbing a hand into Jungkook’s chest. “You do. So I’m helping you. I’m not backing down, so either you accept my help, or I continue pestering you until you do. Your choice.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair offer,” Jungkook says dryly. 

“It’s not, because you don’t have a choice,” Jimin replies easily. “So tell me what you’re looking for.”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose, taking a step back to put some space between them, hating to admit he fully sees Jimin persistently wearing him down until Jungkook gives in — which doesn’t seem ideal. He fully believes in Jimin’s stubbornness, and he’d rather make this as painless as possible. Regardless of how embarrassing it is. 

“Fine,” he grouses. Jimin smiles victoriously — it briefly makes Jungkook reconsider his decision until he reminds himself the alternative is worse. If he has to do this, then he should at least make the most of it. “I was looking for something cool that’s not… a t-shirt and jeans.”

Jimin stares at him. He blinks. “That’s it?”

Jungkook feels heat bloom on his face. “Forget it,” he snaps, turning around, hugging an arm to his chest. Hating how stupid Jimin makes him feel.

“No— okay. Sorry. That’s fine. I can work with that. I just thought you’d have something more specific in mind.” Jimin doesn’t sound judgemental as he says it, and even if Jungkook doesn’t quite understand why, he’s thankful for it. 

He still doesn’t like it — doesn’t feel fully collected from the burst of shame Jimin made him feel. He stays in place until Jimin’s tap on his arm makes him jolt. “Follow me,” Jimin says, nudging his head towards a different section of the floor. “I know where to start.”

Jungkook grudgingly shuffles after him, dragging his feet. He’s curious about what Jimin has in mind, but stronger than that is the desire to oppose whatever he proposes on principle. Jimin knows more than he does, but openly admitting that is something he’s reluctant to do. He’d rather figure things out on his own.

Jimin takes him to the jeans display. He must see the skepticism on Jungkook’s face, but he doesn’t address it. He claps his hands together. “Alright. Do you own a pair of black jeans?”

Jungkook shifts on his feet. “...No.”

Jimin nods to himself. “You have long legs, so a pair of black pants with black shoes will emphasize their length even further and make them the highlight of your look.” Jungkook hadn’t noticed that about himself. Is that something people pay attention to, or just Jimin? Doesn’t everyone have about the same length he does? Jimin rummages through the pile before pulling a pair up. “These seem like they should be your size.” He hands them over and moves on; Jungkook checks the label. It’s indeed his size. 

“To keep it simple,” Jimin starts as he’s walking, Jungkook following closely behind. “You can go for all-black for a sleek look. Then you can easily add another layer on top for a pop of color. You can wear a button-up, a t-shirt, a shirt on top of a button-up, a baggy shirt, an unzipped hoodie on top of a t-shirt — the world is yours. Oh,” he suddenly stops. Jungkook almost crashes into his back. “Make sure to tuck your shirt into your pants if you want to elongate your legs.”

He starts walking again and Jungkook scrambles to keep up. Jimin’s steps are long and quick, and he barrages Jungkook with so much information at once that he can’t keep up. He wonders if it would be weird to ask Jimin to write this all down for him. He’s already forgotten most of what’s been said, mostly because he has trouble sharing Jimin’s vision. 

“If you don’t have a belt, you should get one.” He picks a black one seemingly at random, pushing it into Jungkook’s hands. He makes quick work of picking up all the pieces of clothing he’s mentioned as he rambles, and Jungkook starts worrying at the growing pile in his arms, knowing he can’t afford all of it. 

As if Jimin is reading Jungkook’s mind — or Jungkook is simply that easy to read, which he hopes isn’t the case — he flicks a wrist and says: “Don’t worry about buying all of this. This is just for demonstration’s sake so you can try it on here and see for yourself.”

“Um.” Jungkook feels guilty at the idea of trying on all these pieces of clothing he won’t buy. “Do they let you do that?”

Jimin looks at him strangely. Slightly amused. “It’s not like they know. Besides, the cabins aren’t full. We can take as long as we want.”

Jungkook isn’t sure about that, but he supposes Jimin is the more experienced one between them and would know better. Worst case scenario, he simply never comes back to this store. 

They make their way towards the cabins, and Jimin directs him towards the first open one with an extended hand. It’s more gentlemanly than it has any right to be, so Jungkook does his best to ignore it and the way Jimin leans against the wall in front of his cabin, foot propped behind him. He raises an eyebrow when Jungkook takes too long to close the curtains. Jungkook coughs before rushing to drag them closed. 

Knowing Jimin is right outside and waiting for him makes Jungkook overly self-conscious of his every movement, even if he knows Jimin can’t see anything. It’s even more flustering when he realizes he’s dressing himself in clothes Jimin picked for him, and he hates the way he blushes at the thought. It’d be embarrassing even with a friend or a partner — with his enemy even more so. 

“Put the black t-shirt on first!” Jimin calls out when Jungkook is shirtless. He hugs himself with his arms, aware that Jimin has no way of knowing, but feeling exposed anyway. 

Jimin gives him a once over when Jungkook walks out, having tucked his t-shirt into his pants like instructed. He admits he likes the way it looks, even if it's a bit simple. The waistband is slightly too large, hanging loosely around his waist, but as long as the pants don’t fall down Jungkook is fine with it. It’s a running problem for him with jeans.

“Don’t forget the belt,” Jimin says, reaching past Jungkook into the cabin to grab it off the hook. 

Jungkook thinks Jimin will hand it to him, so he holds his palm out. Instead, Jimin steps to his side, grabbing the end of the belt and pushing it into Jungkook’s belt loops. His chest brushes Jungkook’s arms as he does so, and Jungkook tenses when he feels the belt slip into the loop at his back, over his butt. Holding his breath the whole time. Breathing out slowly when Jimin slips the prong into a punch hole and steps back. He refuses to look into Jimin’s eyes. 

Jimin nods to himself, satisfied. “That looks better. Accessories add a lot to an outfit — belts in particular can change the whole look and silhouette. Don’t underestimate them.”

Jungkook looks down at himself before moving back in front of the mirror, twisting this way and that and admiring his outfit. It does look better with a belt. He looks good. He feels a bit giddy at the sight, happy at getting to see himself look nice in something. It makes him feel more confident. 

“Honestly,” Jimin adds, “you probably need to wear a belt regardless. Your waist might be too small for most standard-sized pants.”

Jungkook hums, glancing at his waist in the mirror. It didn’t sound like an insult, so he doesn’t take offense to Jimin’s words. “Yeah, it’s always loose around there. But it’s fine.”

Jimin huffs. “It’s not. Standard sizing is just shit for a lot of people.”

Jungkook doesn’t really know enough about clothing to say anything to that, so he doesn’t. 

“I wish the sleeves on the t-shirt were a bit shorter. They don’t drape as nicely as they could,” Jimin says, glancing at Jungkook’s shirt thoughtfully. He says it like he’s mostly speaking to himself, and Jungkook doesn’t understand what he’s talking about anyway. “Okay, try the button-up and the short-sleeved sweater on top.”

Jungkook feels too good about his outfit to mind being bossed around. 

It takes them a while to get through the whole stack of clothes despite the collection being small, because Jimin insists on making Jungkook try out every combination he can think of. It helps a lot, even if Jungkook is reluctant to admit it. It's the most pleasant interaction he's ever had with Jimin and it's nice, for a change. Having an enemy is exhausting. Jungkook would still prefer to keep his distance, but if Jimin were like this all the time, he thinks he could tolerate his presence. 

They leave the cabins and Jimin slips his phone out of his pocket, clicking his tongue at the time. "I gotta dip. Buy the black jeans — and the belt if you don't have one already," he orders, fingers flying over his screen as he types. He glances up, making sure Jungkook is listening, then pockets his phone again. The way he so easily orders Jungkook around is annoying — now that Jungkook isn’t being distracted by his look — and his jaw ticks, but he doesn't protest. He sees Jimin's point. "See ya," Jimin says, waving a hand over his shoulder. 

"See you," Jungkook grunts. Realizing how civil he's been with Jimin makes him feel strange. Defensive. Like something has shifted without his permission that he has no control over. 

Jimin’s figure quickly disappears behind the racks of clothing, leaving Jungkook stranded on the pristine white floors. The stack of clothing in his arms grows unbearable, so he moves to rid himself of most of it. 

He buys the black jeans and the belt. 

Jungkook wasn’t planning on wearing his new clothes immediately after getting them with Jimin’s help. That would be embarrassing.

He ends up oversleeping, so it doesn’t matter what he’d planned anyway.

He stumbles into the office almost an hour late, heaving and drenched in sweat after a hurried bike ride to the building. He’s thankful to have forgotten to iron his button-up shirt yesterday — he can hide his sweat under the oversized sweater he put on. It feels strange to be wearing his glasses to work instead of the contacts he didn’t bother spending time trying to insert. It makes him feel like he’s back in university.

Jimin is the first person he runs into — well. Runs past. Jimin’s brows raise into his hairline as he blinks dramatically at the sight of him, but Jungkook rushes past him without a second glance. He falls down heavily into his chair, his breathing loud in his ears as he tries to catch his breath. He taps a finger on his knee as he hooks his laptop into the monitor and impatiently waits for it to boot up. He tries to tame his curls as the screen lights up. He knows his face is flushed.

“Take it easy, man. It’s not life or death. You’ve never been late before. No one cares.” Taehyung sounds listless as he says it, his eyes glued onto his screen. Jungkook huffs in objection. 

He springs out of his seat when he spots Namjoon, walking up to him with quick steps. Namjoon’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he spots him, but Jungkook can’t rid himself of the guilt he feels. 

“I’m sorry for being late.” Jungkook hates the way his voice wobbles with remorse.

Namjoon puts his hands up. “It’s fine! You’re so diligent all the time. It’s fine if you’re late once in a while.” His smile is kind as he says it, but Jungkook has never been late before. He hates the thought of disappointing Namjoon when he feels like his work isn’t up to par; that includes his time management. Namjoon will always take the path of compassion — he’s genuinely the greatest unofficial boss Jungkook has ever had the pleasure of working with — but that doesn’t mean Jungkook will stop holding himself to standards of perfection. He wants to make Namjoon proud.

They’re entering the final stretch of development. Jungkook can’t afford to slack off now. His hesitation must be apparent, because Namjoon’s smile grows softer and he lays a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. Rubbing it gently. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

The contact is electrifying. It sends his heart racing in his chest, and suddenly Jungkook is hit with the realization of the power touch can have. Is this something he should attempt more often with Namjoon? Casually touching him? Jimin did, and he flustered Namjoon. Is Jungkook losing because he’s not initiating physical contact?

His fingers twitch as his thoughts swirl in his mind. Weighing the risks and costs of bringing his hand up to lay it over Namjoon’s. Namjoon removes his hand before he’s come to a decision, and Jungkook tries to bite back the simultaneous regret and relief he feels. He leaves Jungkook with an encouraging smile. 

Jungkook walks back to his desk in a daze, sinking slowly into his chair. It takes him a few seconds to shake himself out of it and properly gear up for work. A quick glance at Taehyung to make sure he wasn’t watching reveals him resting heavily on his hand, cheek scrunched against his fist. He looks on the verge of falling asleep. 

“Sleep badly?" Jungkook asks, slightly concerned. 

Taehyung hums, rubbing his eyes. “Stayed late at work. I was in a creative flow and I didn’t want to interrupt it.”

Taehyung, as a person, is a bit of an enigma to Jungkook. At times cheerfully goofy; at times effortlessly suave with a hint of mystery. Able to switch between the two at the flick of a switch. What Jungkook does know, however, is that he’s an amazing artist and he works goddamn hard. It inspires Jungkook to apply himself even more to his work. 

With a determined nod to himself, Jungkook breathes out harshly and sets himself to work. He needs to do better with Namjoon, too. First work. Then Namjoon. 

Taehyung startles him when he suddenly stands from his chair a few hours later, letting Jungkook know he’s leaving for lunch. He has a tendency to eat at odd times, so Jungkook quickly checks the time. 12:03 pm. His meal-prepped lunch (which was technically just frozen veggies with chicken and rice) got left at home in his hurry to get to work, so he grabs his wallet and sneaks his way out of the office, knowing Hoseok likes to join anyone on their lunch-buying excursion. Jungkook can’t have that.

On his way out, he spots Namjoon and Jimin in a conversation just as Jimin throws his head back in a loud laugh and places a hand on Namjoon’s arm— and oh. Jimin inspires Jungkook to work harder, too. Just in a different way.

The supermarket is bustling with hungry office workers when he enters. Jungkook secures himself a cheap pre-heated meal then beelines for the snack aisle, grabbing what he thinks is Namjoon’s favorite snack. Cheez-its. He’s seen Namjoon eat them from time to time, more than any other snack from the snack table. Jungkook doesn’t know how he would’ve explained going out of his way for this. He’s relieved he managed to walk past Hoseok undetected. 

Namjoon is seated at his desk when Jungkook gingerly enters the office again, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Jungkook doesn’t know if Namjoon has eaten yet — he’s staring at his screen with a concentrated frown that’s unfairly hot. 

Jungkook places one foot in front of the other, making his way towards Namjoon. He doesn’t remember how he normally walks. Does it look casual enough? Can Namjoon tell that Jungkook’s heart is caught in his throat, that he feels overly warm in his sweater? Will he notice the way the cardboard box he’s holding crinkles slightly under his tight, sweaty grip?

“Would you— um.” Namjoon looks up with a start, an encouraging smile making its way onto his face. This is going terribly. Jungkook feels like his nervousness is visible from a mile away. “This is for you?”

He pushes the box of Cheez-its forward. “Oh,” Namjoon says, blinking at it. “Is that a question?”

“No!” Jungkook tries to compose himself again, clearing his throat. “It’s for you.”

Namjoon looks at him in pleasant surprise. Jungkook thrusts the box further in front of him, waiting for Namjoon to put his hand forward to receive it. Jungkook refuses to look at his face as he moves to hand it over. The moment his fingers brush Namjoon’s, he jolts, dropping the box in his shock. It makes a soft noise as it tumbles to the floor.

“Oh— I’m sorry,” Jungkook stammers, dropping to his knees with a burning face to pick it up. This is going just the way he was dreading it would go. 

Namjoon laughs, a quiet, breathy thing. It doesn’t sound mocking. “No, no, it’s fine,” Namjoon waves him off, reaching a hand down to grab the box himself. Their fingers brush again. Jungkook withdraws his hand in surprise, letting Namjoon curl his fingers around the box. 

Jungkook looks up at him, refusing to look Namjoon in the eye. He sees the way Namjoon’s lips curl into a cute smile. “You didn’t have to go out of your way, JK. This is really sweet. Thank you.”

Jungkook wants to hide his face in his hands. He doesn’t know why he thought this was a good idea. He can’t handle this mix of overwhelming embarrassment mixed with euphoria. He rushes to stand up, brushing his knees off. Namjoon is still looking at him, but Jungkook can’t handle meeting his gaze. Jungkook brings a hand up to his glasses to fiddle with them, hoping his hands aren’t visibly shaking. 

“It was no problem, really,” he murmurs. A pause. “Right. Well”---he points toward his desk, staring at the way Namjoon’s shirt hugs his shoulders. “I should…”

He hears the sweet smile in Namjoon’s voice when he responds. “Oh, of course. Don’t let me keep you. Thank you again.” This time, when Jungkook wagers a look at him, Namjoon has a small grin on his face.

“No problem,” Jungkook repeats, before realizing he’d already said it. He holds back a wince. Namjoon doesn’t comment on it, but Jungkook feels stupid all the same. 

Letting go is hard. Jungkook doesn’t want to overthink it, but he can’t help it; that’s just how he is. Too self-conscious for his own good. That’s one thing he admires about Jimin, despite it all — the way he manages to push on with confidence Jungkook wishes he had. 

The office feels stuffy, yet too big at the same time. It’s warm in the hallway, but at least he’s alone. 

Jimin finds him there, crouched down in front of the wall, face buried in his hands. He kicks Jungkook’s shoe with a heeled boot to get his attention. 

“That was sad to see.”

“Thanks, hadn’t noticed,” Jungkook snarks.

Jimin sighs. “This isn’t high school. You need to be more proactive with your flirting. Compliment him in ways that make him feel good about himself, and not like you’re simply interested in whatever you’re complimenting him on — as an example.”

Jungkook lifts his head, glaring at Jimin. “What? Are you trying to give me flirting advice now? Because I don’t remember asking for it.” Even if Jimin is a smartass — the type of person to make sure someone knows when they’re wrong or could do something better — Jungkook doesn’t understand why he would go out of his way to give Jungkook an advantage. He seemed like the kind of guy to play dirty as much as possible.

“I’m trying to help,” JImin huffs, clicking his tongue. Ignoring the substance of Jungkook’s complaint entirely, he continues: “Although, you do have a cute puppy-like vibe. Maybe emphasizing that would work better for you, depending on what Namjoon likes.”

Jungkook has a scathing reply prepared, ready to brush Jimin’s words off entirely when they actually hit him. His heart lurches in his chest. Shoulders raising. He looks at Jimin in shock, too caught off-guard to feel flustered. “I have a— what?”

“You have a cute puppy-like vibe,” Jimin repeats, gaze shifting to the side.

“No, I— heard you the first time,” Jungkook rasps out. 

“Well?” Jimin’s eyes meet his own again. Raising an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

Jungkook has no idea what to say to that. What to even think of it. “I haven’t exactly thought about it before.”

“Now you know,” Jimin states bluntly. “So? What are you going to do?”

Jungkook looks at him suspiciously. “I don’t think I should reveal my plans to my rival.” It sounds more teasing than he wanted it to come out. 

“Please,” Jimin waves him off. “I don’t need to know them to win. Otherwise I wouldn’t be helping you.”

“‘Helping’ is a stretch.”

“You got advice from a seasoned flirter. I’d say that counts as help.”

“Unsolicited advice.” Jungkook snorts. “‘Seasoned flirter’,” he repeats, trying to tame his amused smile. It doesn’t work.

Jimin crosses his arms, shrugging. “Compared to you, at least.”

“I’ve done it before,” Jungkook defends himself. His words sound whiny to his ears. 

“Yeah?” Jimin grins wolfishly. “Show me how you do it, then.”

Ah. This was a bad idea. Jungkook needs to learn not to put his foot in his mouth. Jimin is too good at making him do that. He’s not prepared for this. He’s not a quitter, though. “Fine.”

Jimin’s grin widens. He holds a hand out to help Jungkook up, but Jungkook ignores it.

Jungkook has Namjoon in his sights. He’s just sat down at his desk after a brief conversation with Yoongi, typing away calmly at his keyboard. Jungkook feels bad at the idea of bothering him a second time that day. He hesitates. Sweat gathers in his pits. He doesn’t know how to approach this. 

Jimin makes a sound of exasperation next to him. He lays a hand on Jungkook’s lower back and pushes him forward with a light shove, impatient. The action sends a burst of nervous energy through Jungkook; he’s not ready. He needs more time to prepare — this is wholly out of his comfort zone. He can’t let any of that show after talking big to Jimin, so there’s no choice but to go forward. He can’t do this, but he can. If Jimin can do it, then Jungkook needs to find a way to embody his energy. 

Compliment Namjoon. That seems doable. Physical contact is too advanced for him, so he’ll skip that for now. Baby steps.

No one spares him a glance as he walks up to Namjoon’s desk, engrossed in their own work. The nerves come flaring back like fireworks when Namjoon spots him hovering at the edge of his desk. Jungkook feels like he’s fucked up before he’s even had the chance to do anything.

Namjoon’s face is open. Jungkook clasps his hands together, rubbing the skin anxiously. How does he initiate this? Oh God. He should’ve thought this through more. “Are you busy right now?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Not at all. What’s up?”

There’s a piece of dust on Namjoon’s hair— and oh. Jungkook knows how he can do this. He brings a hand up to his own head, pinching a lock of hair to pull it down over his face, emphasizing its length. “I, uh. Need to get my hair cut. Where do you”— a breath —“get yours done?”

Namjoon furrows his brows, gaping dumbly at him. “Are you sure you want to be asking me that?”

“Yes,” Jungkook rushes to say. This is it. “You look really good. With your hair, I mean. Not that you wouldn’t look good without it.” He waves his hands frantically. “Um, anyway. Hair. Where do you get yours done?”

“Oh,” Namjoon says, flushing slightly. “Thank you.” He rubs the back of his neck. Jungkook turns to Jimin, eyes wide, and Jimin gives him a single encouraging nod. “I can send you the address?”

“Yes, please.” The piece of dust stands out against the black of Namjoon’s hair. It bothers him. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching out, but he flinches to a halt when Namjoon looks at him oddly. “Oh,” Jungkook says simply. “Sorry. You have a piece of dust in your hair.” He points at it.

Namjoon brushes his hair off but misses the piece. 

“Wait, you missed— here—” Namjoon lets Jungkook place his fingers on his hair to dust it off gently. The strands under Jungkook’s skin are soft, silky, and he wonders what it would be like to run his fingers properly through it. The way Namjoon leans into his touch, pliant as he lets Jungkook handle his hair— Jungkook doesn’t know how he survives it. 

“Thanks,” Namjoon smiles at him, a little thing as he rearranges his bangs. 

“No problem.” Jungkook sounds breathless.

Namjoon picks his phone up, typing quickly on the screen before placing it back on the desk. “I sent you the address.”

“Thank you so much.” Jungkook checks his phone, seeing the notification with Namjoon’s name on it. He doesn’t receive messages from him very often, so the sight is exhilarating. He bows slightly at the waist, which makes Namjoon laugh. Laugh!

Jimin is where Jungkook left him, leaning against the wall. Jungkook turns to him eagerly, fingers tingling from where they touched Namjoon. One corner of Jimin’s lips turns up, and he gives Jungkook a small thumbs-up.

Jungkook bites his lip to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. 

Deja vu is a strange thing. Jungkook definitely feels like he’s been here before, as he stands helplessly before his closet.

Namjoon had organized a group dinner at a cheap local Korean restaurant, stating it’d been too long since they’d all hung out together outside of work, and that it was his gift to them for working so hard before they entered the last leg of development. 

The problem is, Jungkook doesn’t know what to wear. 

In theory, he remembers what Jimin and Pinterest have taught him. And Jimin really did help him out a lot — he knows he wants to wear the black jeans already — but Jungkook still doesn’t feel confident putting an outfit together on his own. Especially because this is a rare chance for him to impress Namjoon. He can’t mess this up. 

The blank message box he has with Jimin stares back at him for a good few minutes. He talks himself out of it, then into it again. He runs through all possible scenarios in his head before deciding to just send the message.

The moment he hits send, he throws his phone on his bed and refuses to look at it. When it vibrates only a few seconds later, he jumps out of his skin. He lies down on his side, taking a heavy breath before opening his messages.

Me:

i don’t know what to wear

Jimin:

sounds like a you problem

God, this is exactly what Jungkook was fearing. He’s so annoying. Nothing is straightforward with Jimin. Jungkook takes a deep breath before swallowing his pride.

Me:

don’t be annoying

please

i need your help

Jimin:

well…

since you asked nicely :)

where do you live?

Jungkook jolts as he reads the message, panicking. He sits up. Jimin wants to come over?

Me:

you don’t need to come over

really

ill just facetime you

or something

don’t come

Jimin:

how am i supposed to help if i can’t get a good look at what you own?

just send me your address.

Me:

no

Jimin:

don’t be stubborn

i’ll text jin for it

Me:

don’t do that

i’ll send you it

Jimin:

:)

Jungkook jumps into a panic, looking around the space frantically. He throws dirty clothes into the hamper, stuffs empty wrappers and ramen cups into the trash bag, moves dirty dishes into the sink to give them a quick wash. The floor is somewhat dusty, but he doesn’t know how much time he has before Jimin arrives. He opens a window to ventilate the area in case any weird smells still linger, and then he remembers he’s wearing his ratty sweatpants with a Bloodborne t-shirt.

The doorbell rings. In just under 20 minutes, Jimin has arrived. 

Jungkook tries to smooth his hair down as best he can in an attempt to tame his nerves. He opens the door tentatively, peeking through the crack to see Jimin standing there in his full glory, fancy sunglasses covering his eyes before he takes them off. He doesn’t seem annoyed, but he also doesn’t seem thrilled to be here. His face is carefully blank. 

“Are you going to let me in?”

Jungkook throws the door open with a flush, stepping aside to let Jimin take his shoes off. Surprisingly enough, they’re sneakers. Jungkook rakes his eyes over Jimin, taking in his surprisingly muted outfit — black pants with black jacket over a white shirt. Jimin, in turn, looks around the space. Jungkook winces. 

“Nice place,” is all Jimin says. It's oddly restrained — polite — from him; Jungkook flits his gaze over the place, notices the kitchen counter that's seen better days, the empty white walls, the desk that doubles as his dinner table, the coffee table that doesn't match the rest of the furniture, all things he knows Jimin could — would — tease him over. 

“Um, thanks. Do you want anything…?”

“No.” Jimin runs a hand through his bangs. “Lead me to your bedroom.”

Straight to the point. It's like he's on a business trip. “Jesus, okay.”

Jungkook’s closet is small with only a few shirts hung up on a rack, the rest folded in cramped shelves. Jimin glances at the pair of black jeans carelessly thrown on top of Jungkook’s sheets but doesn’t say anything, throwing the closet doors open before beginning to rifle through Jungkook’s clothes. He’s silent as he works — his expression doesn’t betray anything. Jungkook wrings his hands together, not knowing how to interpret Jimin’s mood. There's been no comment on Jungkook's sparse collection of clothes.

Before long, Jimin is throwing a white tank top behind him — it lands softly on top of Jungkook’s bed — and then a zipper hoodie follows shortly behind. 

“Do you have any accessories?”

Jungkook takes a while to register the question. “Accessories like..?”

“Necklaces, rings, bracelets.”

Jungkook has never felt the need to get any. “No…”

Jimin shrugs, not looking particularly surprised. He turns around with his hands on his hips. “That’s fine. I’ll lend you a necklace tomorrow at work. Any high-heeled boots?”

That’s way above Jungkook’s level. He snorts. Jimin’s lips curve into a teasing smile. 

“Shoe size?”

“9.”

“Same size as me then,” Jimin hums. “I’ll lend you a pair tomorrow too. We’re going for boyish but fancy casual.”

“Whatever that means.”

Jimin flicks a finger on his forehead. Jungkook rubs the spot with a scowl. “Leave it to the experts.” Jimin gives the space another cursory glance — Jungkook suddenly realizes he should've made his bed, at least — before putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging. “Well, that’s it from me.”

That was… a lot quicker and more painless than Jungkook expected. Jimin must have been in the area already, because he doesn't see how this would be worth driving over for. "That's it?"

Jimin looks at him curiously. "Well, yes. I've done my job here."

"I mean— you have," Jungkook stutters, a bit taken aback, unsure how to navigate Jimin's pointed efficiency. He wasn't expecting them to hang out afterwards — and clearly, Jimin isn't either — so really, there was no other way for this to go. The lack of teasing, short quips, or simmering back-and-forth is striking. It leaves the whole thing feeling— unfinished. "You didn't drive all the way here just to spend three minutes picking my outfit, did you?"

Jimin looks at him steadily, waiting a second or two before answering. "I have other errands to run."

Of course he does; Jungkook feels foolish for even considering the alternative. "Ah."

A pause. Jungkook wonders if Jimin is waiting to be dismissed, or accompanied out. It's a surprisingly deferential attitude for him. 

“Do you want anything to eat..?”

Jimin gives him a knowing look, the corner of his mouth crooking up. “What do you have in your fridge?”

Jungkook’s face twists into a grimace. “Leftover rice, chicken, frozen broccoli and a vegetable mix…” His voice grows weaker the more he lists off. Jimin grins at him. 

“Very generous of you to offer, but I’m good.” He reaches into his pocket for his sunglasses and places them on his nose, hiding his eyes entirely. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Okay.”

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind Jungkook’s lack of cordiality. Or social capabilities. He makes his way towards the door, crouching down to put his shoes on while Jungkook hovers awkwardly behind him. 

“Oh, by the way,” Jimin says as he stands up. You left a pair of boxers on your bed. Love the pink.”

Jungkook groans in mortification, turning around to avoid seeing Jimin's expression as he laughs, his tinkling voice petering off as the door closes behind him with a soft click. 

Jungkook brushes a hair down his face before it dawns on him that he never thanked Jimin for his help. 

Almost more important than that is the realization that Jimin must have noticed, but never asked for it.

The restaurant is a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of thing. It’s owned by a Korean family where only the daughter speaks English, so they all dust off their Korean as best as they can. Jungkook regularly speaks Korean with his mom, so it’s not much of a problem for him; Seokjin’s parents, on the other hand, insisted on their children integrating into American society as much as possible, which meant speaking almost exclusively English at home. Seokjin has since taken it upon himself to try and learn Korean, but his skills are still elementary. Sometimes Jungkook will catch him watching K-dramas without English subtitles at work. 

Jungkook feels self-conscious in his clothes — especially the boots — but all he’s received so far is a pleased nod from Jimin and overly excited praise from Hoseok. He’s not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed that Namjoon hasn’t said anything, but he supposes Namjoon was too busy ushering everyone in and ordering for them. 

It smells like grease, meat, and everything good on Earth. Jungkook feels happy to stuff his face and let the conversations around the table flow over him. Yoongi is to his left, Hoseok to his right, and to his dismay, Jimin is right across from him. Namjoon is next to Yoongi, his loud voice carrying over the whole table as he talks excitedly to Taehyung in front of him. Jungkook hasn’t been paying attention to the discussion, but he likes hearing Namjoon’s voice. He’s cute when he gets passionate talking about a topic. 

Jungkook knows he’s not being a very engaging conversational partner, but Hoseok doesn’t seem to care that all he’s getting in return are one-word responses. Seokjin has now moved on to a funny anecdote that makes everyone laugh, and Jungkook smiles into his glass. 

A plate of perilla leaves gets put on the table. Jungkook reaches for one immediately, struggling to separate the top leaf from the one under it. 

He’s about to use his free hand to pick it up when Jimin grabs ahold of the other leaf, pulling it away from Jungkook’s before stuffing it into his mouth. Jungkook is frozen, his arm hovering awkwardly over the table. That’s— Okay. Jimin gives him a strange look when Jungkook still hasn’t moved after a few seconds, his brain having stuttered to a halt. He jolts and shoves the leaf into his mouth, refusing to look at Jimin as he chews. His throat feels tight as he swallows. His cheeks feel scalding when he puts the back of his hand on them to cool them down. 

Jimin doesn’t seem to think much of it, even reaching casually for another leaf as if he hadn’t just performed one of the most romantic acts Jungkook has ever experienced. Jungkook hides behind his bangs as his brain melts. His fingers curl tightly around his chopsticks. 

Does— What does this mean for Jimin? Does he like Jungkook? Jungkook is scared for a moment that he might be projecting — he has absolutely no reason to, he doesn’t want Jimin to like him — but then the scene flashes before his eyes again and he shrinks in his seat, shy. There’s no way he’s mistaking it for anything else.

Suddenly he’s hyper-aware of Jimin’s presence; the way he sits; the way he holds his chopsticks elegantly; his unbuttoned collar showing off a sliver of collarbones and chest. He laughs loudly, too, and he doesn’t hesitate to pile food on other people’s plates. Jungkook had never imagined that Jimin might like him, so to be suddenly presented with the possibility of it— it’s overwhelming. His mind spins. 

Jimin slips out of his seat, murmuring something that sounds like “restroom” before he disappears around the corner. Jungkook feels close to bursting, too — having spent the latter half of the dinner hiding his face in his drink — and even though Jimin hasn’t come back yet, he can’t hold it in.

He waddles over to the restroom, and just as his luck would have it, he runs into Jimin in the cramped hallway in front of it. Jimin startles at his sudden appearance but composes himself quickly. He easily directs Jungkook past him with a hand half on his waist, half on his lower back, and— Jungkook malfunctions for a bit. The action is incredibly casual, but Jungkook feels as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. Jimin’s hand feels scorching through his clothes.

He squeals into his own hands once he’s locked the restroom door behind him, leaning against the grimy wall for a bit to gather his bearings. He doesn’t need to glance in the mirror to know what he looks like. The area Jimin touched still tingles, and Jungkook rubs it softly. 

He refuses to meet Jimin’s eyes when he sits back down, determined to ignore him the rest of the dinner for his own peace of mind. Hoseok asks him if he feels sick, if he needs any fresh air. Jungkook shakes his head with a blush, distracting himself with a piece of samgyeopsal. Hoseok doesn’t press, but Jungkook can tell he’s noticed the strange mood he’s in. 

Despite his resolution, Jungkook can’t help but steal glances at Jimin whenever he can. It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to observe him so openly, to take in all his features in a neutral way. He really is pretty. Jungkook still can’t believe he’d openly flirt with him in front of all their coworkers. He hopes no one noticed. 

Jimin’s hands are small, but they look sturdy. His rings complement him well, giving him an edgier look. He drums them languidly on the table as he talks. They fold his napkin neatly on the table when they’re done eating. Jungkook hasn’t paid attention to any of the discussions. 

Yoongi nudges him in sympathy when they’re ready to leave, asking him if he needs some peace and quiet. If he has a headache, maybe. Jungkook denies it at first, but doesn’t know what to say instead, so he lies and nods. Yoongi pats him on the shoulder and says he’ll explain it to the others. That Jungkook can head straight home. 

Jungkook peeks over his shoulder as he walks away, wanting one last glance at Jimin. Jimin is already looking his way, brows furrowed. Their eyes meet, and Jungkook whirls around, heart quivering. 

Oh God.

It’s not his proudest moment, but Jungkook starts avoiding Jimin at work. 

He leaves Jimin’s boots and accessories on his desk, too scared to give them back in person. He’s self-conscious and overly aware of everything Jimin does. They didn’t have a lot of contact before anyway, but the way Jungkook slinks away the moment he spots Jimin or Jimin tries to tease him is obvious. Jimin’s lips purse every time, but he doesn’t say anything. Jungkook hates the way he’s reduced to a flustered mess whenever Jimin leaves mildly threatening post-it notes on his desk or fixes his crooked tie for him. 

He simply doesn’t know how to handle the knowledge that Jimin likes him. 

His avoidance doesn’t last longer than a few days before Jimin corners him in the hallway outside the office. He backs Jungkook up against the wall, eyes narrowed in displeasure. Jungkook squirms, not wanting to answer the question in Jimin’s eyes. Trying to come up with a good excuse that Jimin won’t see right through. 

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook hurries to say. Unconvincingly. 

Jimin seems to think for a moment. “Does it have anything to do with Namjoon?”

And Jungkook doesn’t know why, but he hates that Jimin is bringing Namjoon up right now. They haven’t done so as much lately, and it never bothered him before. So he doesn’t know why it does right now. 

Instead of answering, he blurts out — recklessly, spontaneously: “Do you like me?”

Jimin’s expression flickers off. His face turned carefully blank, not betraying anything. He stays silent, and that’s answer enough. 

Jungkook feels hysterical. “You do! What the fuck! You do. Why?”

Jimin crosses his arms, taking a step back. He looks to the side. Shrugs. “Why not?”

Jungkook is beyond baffled. Suddenly, his chest flares with anger, although he doesn’t understand why. He feels a mix of confusing emotions. “You always treat me like I’m stupid or incompetent. Why do you like me?”

Jimin’s posture is defensive. Tense. His nostrils flare, and Jungkook can tell he’s struck a nerve. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do!” Jungkook accuses. “Is this a trick? Are you trying to confuse me because of Namjoon?” Jungkook didn’t want to bring him up, but he feels keyed up, his emotions frayed. A conflicting mess. He can’t help but lash out. He doesn’t like Jimin, and he wants to continue feeling justified in not doing so.

Jimin snaps, fists clenching tightly. “Not everything is about the fucking bet, Jungkook,” he grits out. He stops, huffs, looks away with his tongue in his cheek before scoffing bitterly. “If you dislike me having feelings for you, that’s fine. But you don’t have to be a fucking asshole about it. If you want the fucking bet money, I can give it to you. I don’t care about it anymore.”

Jimin rips his wallet out of his pocket, counting out a few bills before slapping them harshly on Jungkook’s chest. He steps past Jungkook, their shoulders grazing, opening the door with excessive force. Jungkook stutters, scrambling to hold the bills against him. “I’m not—”

The door shuts with a heavy slam. Jungkook hears Hoseok startle with a shout. 

Taehyung’s brows are creased in concern when Jungkook sits down solemnly at his desk, the dollar bills tucked into his pocket. When he asks, Jungkook doesn’t reply. 

Jimin is the one who avoids Jungkook after that. 

Jungkook feels weird about it, strangely enough. He thought he’d prefer it this way, because the idea of Jimin liking and pursuing him makes him feel uncomfortable. At least, it should. Instead of relief, all he feels is guilt for what he said in the heat of the moment. 

The tension doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team — it’s a stark difference to what things were like before, especially the past few weeks, but in some ways it’s reminiscent of how they were months before that. Namjoon seems like he wants to intervene, but something stops him from doing so. Jungkook doesn’t know if Jimin talked to him. 

It’s been about a week of Jungkook only catching glimpses of Jimin when he’s working at his desk or when he’s hurriedly leaving, his back to Jungkook. Jungkook’s productivity suffers, regret weighing him down, and it makes him want to scream. Nothing is going right. Somehow, even the thought of Namjoon talking to him doesn’t spark much joy. All it does is remind him of the stupid bet, and then he feels disgusted with himself. 

The office is quiet in the early morning when Jungkook arrives, set on making up for his slow work over the course of the week. He sighs heavily into his head as his bleary eyes watch the monitor boot up, the sudden bright light irritating. He decides he might as well make himself a coffee while he waits. He’s not getting through the day without one. 

Considering the lack of noise in the office, Jungkook expected it to be fully empty. Instead, when he opens the door to the break room, he watches as Namjoon and Yoongi both spring apart from each other, heavily flushed with mussed up hair. 

Oh. Oh.

“Jungkook. Ah— This isn’t—” Namjoon blabbers, looking incredibly flustered. Yoongi refuses to meet their eyes. 

Their lips are swollen — there’s no doubt as to what they were doing. Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach, leaving him off-kilter. There isn’t much space for them to move, so Namjoon and Yoongi end up close to each other, still, even with the space they try to put between them. There’s a certain ease and comfort to the way they stand in each other’s presence. Jungkook can’t tell if that’s a recent development or something he only notices now that he knows.

“Are you guys, like—” Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to finish the sentence. He’s not sure he wants the answer to the question.

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s reply comes out muffled, half his face hidden behind his hand. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says dumbly. He feels almost numb. He doesn’t know how to process what he’s feeling. “How long?”

“Five years,” Yoongi says. He clears his throat. “We’re married, actually.”

And that’s— wow. Jungkook might have a hard time detangling his emotions, but he knows there’s shock. And guilt, somehow — that neither Namjoon or Yoongi felt comfortable telling him for so long. That he only found out by accident something they clearly didn’t want him to know. He wonders if he’s the only one to have been left in the dark. Surely not — Jimin wouldn’t have made the bet, otherwise. 

Deep down, there’s a flicker of heartbreak, because he still likes Namjoon. But it’s somehow not the all-encompassing sadness he was expecting he would feel. He suspects some part of him had already accepted Namjoon would never return his feelings. Right now, that’s a good thing.

“That’s—” Jungkook blinks, speechless. “Okay. Five years.”

“We didn’t want to hide it from you, I swear,” Namjoon stresses. He looks almost desperate.. “It just never came up, and then we felt bad for not having told everyone from the start, so we kept hiding it out of embarrassment. It’s nothing against you, I promise.”

His eyes are pleading. Jungkook believes him. That sounds like a Namjoon and Yoongi thing to do. Jungkook could easily imagine himself in the same situation. He doesn’t hold it against them. 

“It’s okay,” he says, watching the tension bleed out of Namjoon’s shoulders. Yoongi looks at him curiously. “I get it. I didn’t tell my mom I quit my job for months because I felt bad that I hadn’t told her immediately.”

Namjoon’s mouth curves down in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook waves him off. 

“If we could ask you a favor,” Yoongi starts, scratching his chin, refusing to meet Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook has never seen him look so embarrassed before. “Please don’t tell anyone, yet. We’d prefer to break the news ourselves.”

Jungkook bobs his head frantically. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry for, um, interrupting your— private time. I’ll leave you guys alone.”

Yoongi blushes heavily. “No— we’re not—”

Jungkook giggles despite himself. The situation is a little funny, but mostly he thinks it’s out of hysteria. He might be in shock. He looks them over once last time — taking in the flush on their faces, the fondness as Namjoon looks at Yoongi, the way fixes his shirt, the crooked collar — then closes the door, walking back to his desk where he sits for a few moments. Staring blankly into space. 

Oh. He never got his coffee. He hopes Namjoon and Yoongi finish up soon. 

Jungkook confronts Jimin the first chance he gets, ambushing him in the hallway outside of the office when he’s coming back from lunch. For some reason, they seem to meet a lot here. 

“Did you know? About Namjoon and Yoongi?”

Jimin moves to ignore him, but Jungkook blocks his path. He looks tired, weary, unwilling to humor him. He looks well-dressed as ever — and it’s definitely wishful thinking on Jungkook’s part, but Jimin’s outfit seems simple for his standards. More than it usually is. Black jeans, black t-shirt, heeled boots. 

Jimin’s expression darkens, shoulders tensing, fists clenching.

Before Jimin explodes on him, he realizes he has to suck it up and apologize. Even if he’s not mentally prepared for it. “I’m sorry,” he says, pleading for Jimin to forgive him. He doesn’t know how to put it into words, exactly — he’s never been the most articulate person. He just knows he feels a lot of regret for what he told Jimin in a fit of anger. It was unfair. Jimin hasn’t been that bad lately — has even gone out of his way to help him more than anyone. It was unfair of Jungkook to be so accusative towards him just for having a crush. 

Jimin looks at him blankly for a moment before sighing, resigned, because Jungkook is still blocking his path. “I knew, yeah. But I only found out about it a week or two ago.”

Which means… a few days before confessing to Jungkook, at most. He fell for Jungkook before even knowing Namjoon was married? “So… how long did you like me for, before that?”

Jimin gives him a hard stare. Jungkook can physically see his hackles rising. “Are you still trying to figure out whether I was tricking you or not?”

“No!” Jungkook rushes to protest. “No, I was just… curious. It wasn’t fair of me to accuse you of that.” He feels heat rush to his cheeks. This is so embarrassing. Why is he asking about this? He wasn’t planning on doing it. 

Jimin squints at him before looking away pensively. He moves to lean against the wall. It takes him a moment to reply. “I don’t know. Several weeks, probably.”

Oh. That’s longer than Jungkook expected. Now he feels really bad for the way he reacted. 

“Well,” Jimin says, pushing himself off the wall when Jungkook doesn’t say anything, “don’t worry about me making it weird. I’ll leave you alone.”

Jungkook panics, making himself taller in front of the door. Jimin frowns, wrinkling his nose. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not weird. Or uncomfortable.” He bites his lip, breaking eye contact. “I don’t mind.”

Jimin looks hesitant, a bit confused. It’s a new look on him. Usually he’s so headstrong, like nothing bothers him. “...Alright?”

Jungkook nods to himself, jerking to the side when he realizes he’s still blocking Jimin’s path. He rubs the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Right,” Jimin says, looking less confused and more amused, now. His smile is teasing when he opens the door and disappears into the office. 

When Jimin is leaving for the day, Jungkook makes an effort to talk to him. He wants to act casual, to show that he’s definitely not feeling weird and uncomfortable about the whole thing. He’s good. He’s chill. He can handle a guy having a crush on him like a grown man. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Jimin looks skeptical, but accepts easily enough. He doesn’t have much of a choice anyway, unless he wants to try and prevent Jungkook from following him. 

There’s a long, drawn-out moment of silence where neither of them says anything. The staircase is empty, dirty concrete steps winding down multiple floors. Their steps echo. Jungkook is used to Jimin being the better conversationalist of the two, so being left to do the work is stressful. “So,” he starts, awkwardly. “How was… work?”

Jimin snorts, finding Jungkook’s inability to hold a casual conversation funny. “Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Jimin sobers up, his smile turning bitter. He skips down three steps, landing effortlessly. He takes his phone out, checking the time. Jungkook doesn’t trust himself to take more than two steps at a time, so he hurries down normally. “You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to. I don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not it,” Jungkook vehemently protests. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, really.” Jimin opens the building door, making his way out onto the street. It’s noisy, the way the city usually is, acting as a buffer for their conversation. It’s warm — the setting sun beating down on them, bathing Jimin in a warm glow. Jungkook follows easily, keeping up with his steps. “Are you going to follow me home? Are you the one stalking me, now?”

“I just want to hang out!”

“Okay,” Jimin goes along with him easily. He stops in front of a convenience store. “Do you want ice cream?”

Who the hell is Jungkook to say no to that?

They get ice cream. Jimin insists on paying because he’s older, even when Jungkook complains that that logic doesn’t make sense because they’re not in South Korea and they earn the same amount. Jimin elbows him in the stomach then goes to pay. Jungkook lingers close behind, secretly pleased at being spoiled.

They find a bench to sit on. The breeze is nice and warm as they eat. They sit close to each other, enough for Jungkook to feel the heat radiating from Jimin’s thigh, not enough for them to touch. The contact would feel nice, he thinks. 

The silence is pleasant, but Jungkook can’t help but break it to ask: “Why do you like me?” It’s an embarrassing question, and he doesn’t know why he’s so fixated on it. Maybe because it’s his first time experiencing someone having a blatant crush on him. He doesn’t really get it. 

Jimin chokes on his ice cream, coughing a few times. “Do you have a praise kink or something?”

Jungkook frowns. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Okay. Forget what I said, then.”

“What is it?”

“Not telling you.”

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket. Jimin leans over to wrestle it out of his grip, his ice cream threatening to spill all over Jungkook’s lap. He presses into Jungkook’s side, his pleasant scent drifting into Jungkook’s nose. His body is soft, but firm. “Don’t look it up!”

Jungkook holds his phone out of reach. “I won’t, if you tell me why you like me.”

Jimin sighs in defeat, slumping against the back of the bench. Jungkook misses the contact immediately. “What do you want me to say? You’re cute. You’re good at your job. You’re genuinely an amazing artist, and you clearly have a lot of passion for what you do. It’s no wonder you quit your previous job — you’re too good for those soulless big corps.”

Jungkook’s face heats up to match the slight blush on Jimin’s cheeks. That’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever told him. Not that he was still doubting it, but… Jimin really does like him, huh. He has a hard time wrapping his head around it. It’s hard for him to believe Jimin perceives him in such a positive way. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

Jimin nods, but doesn’t say anything else, finishing his ice cream instead. Some of it has dripped down onto his fingers, and he brings them to his mouth to lick it up.  Jungkook feels bad for not reciprocating. Jimin opened up to him in a way that must make him feel vulnerable, even if it seems like nothing affects him. 

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook starts when it looks like Jimin is ready to leave, “I have a lot of respect for the work you do, too. Even if I don’t act like it.”

Jimin huffs. “You definitely don’t.”

“Can you blame me,” Jungkook grouches, stuffing his face with the last of his ice cream cone. “You didn’t exactly make me want to compliment you.”

Jimin sighs. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Jimin stands up to leave, the wrapper making a crackling noise in his fist. Jungkook pushes himself off the bench to join him. “You’re not gonna continue avoiding me at work, are you?”

Jimin lifts his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who started avoiding me first.”

Jungkook deflates, biting his lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Can we be friends, at least?”

Jimin seems to take a moment to think about it. Jungkook knows he’s putting him in a difficult situation, and maybe it’s completely unfair of him. Maybe the right thing would be to keep his distance, not lead him on. Let Jimin’s feelings fizzle away. He doesn’t want to do that, though. 

The back of Jimin’s head glows with the sunset. He brings a hand up to head, ruffling his hair. Jungkook wants to get closer, see his expression up close. Get a better read on him. He deflates when Jimin doesn’t answer, staring at his shoes, the thin layer of dirt on them, scuffing them on the pavement. 

“Alright.”

Jungkook whips his head up in disbelief, a smile breaking out on his face. Jimin isn’t looking at him, his hand fiddling in his pocket. He’s still, otherwise.“See you tomorrow, then?”

Jimin turns to him, smiling back. Soft. “See you.”

Things settle at work as Jimin and Jungkook’s fight dies down, the tense lines of Namjoon’s shoulders loosening until he’s all happy smiles. Jungkook and Jimin greet each other cordially each day, which is a genuinely remarkable development for them. They haven’t hung out again, but Jungkook can’t deny he wants to. 

They’re getting closer to the release date of the game. One of their social media posts — handled by Namjoon — blows up; Namjoon calls them all into a meeting, vibrating out of his skin at the numbers he’s seeing. A wave of excitement ripples through the group as they huddle over Namjoon’s laptop to see for themselves, gasping in awe, and Jungkook’s eyes drift towards Jimin. There’s a sparkle in his eyes. At the same time, he notices the glances Namjoon and Yoongi throw at each other, fond and full of love, and wonders how he could have been so oblivious. 

The heavy rain that suddenly comes pouring down without a warning doesn’t put a damper on the team’s mood — at least until Jungkook remembers he took his bike to work, and the rain doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

“Tae,” he whines. “Can you drive me home? I took my bike to work.”

Taehyung continues clicking around on his screen. “Ask Jimin. You guys are close now after that fight you had, aren’t you?”

Jungkook would rather not. That’s a step further than he’s comfortable with, for now. They’ve only just become friends. 

“Ask me what?”

Jungkook jumps out of his skin, whirling around with a hand on his chest. “Jesus Christ!” Taehyung and Jimin both snicker at his reaction. 

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s being arrogant, but Jimin looks subtly happier nowadays — more relaxed. His neck is decked out in at least five different necklaces, all coming together somehow to form one harmonious piece. There are two chains hanging from his belt, giving him an overall edgier look; on each finger is a ring, sometimes two. They clink together when he brings his thumb to his nose, scratching it lightly. The way his hands look different when they’re accessorized is— interesting.

It’s Taehyung who explains. Jungkook blinks himself out of his staring. “JK wants a ride home because he took his bike to work.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Jungkook looks at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Jimin doesn’t look bothered. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, shrugging. There’s no smile playing on his lips, but his eyes are open. “Yeah. Come on.”

Jimin’s car is a gray, unassuming little thing. Jungkook wants to get a good look at it, but the rain pelting down on them urges them to be quick.

Jimin helps Jungkook load his bike into Jimin’s car in the rain. They hurry, heaving it into the trunk in one go, but they still end up wet by the time they get inside the car — not drenched to the bone like Jungkook would’ve been had he biked all the way home, but wet enough to be uncomfortable. Jimin’s car is neat and tidy, no useless trash hanging about. Jungkook had pictured him with a flashier car, something more fitting of his personality and style; instead, the car is almost comically ordinary. Then again, Jungkook doesn’t know a whole lot about cars. 

Jimin looks cool driving, his rings glinting against the steering wheel. His brows will sometimes furrow in concentration, giving him a stern appearance. Now that he’s not on the receiving end of it, Jungkook can admit it’s a good look on him. His wet hair hangs loosely into his eyes, and Jungkook watches him push it off his forehead each time he does it. 

The traffic is bad, but it still doesn’t take them long to reach Jungkook’s apartment. Jimin parks the car as close to the entrance as possible. They’re only damp when they arrive.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Jungkook says, rummaging around for his wallet. He has to grab his backpack from between his legs to fetch it, zipping it open noisily. He pulls out the two hundred dollars Jimin gave him. “Here.”

Jimin frowns at him in confusion, refusing to take the money. “What?”

“Your bet money.”

“I got that. Why are you giving it back? You technically haven’t lost.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pushing the bills into Jimin’s chest in a similar way to how Jimin did it to him. “He’s literally been married for five years. I don’t even care about the bet anymore.” Jungkook doesn’t know what the final nail in the coffin was, but he knows he doesn’t care much to try and gain Namjoon’s affections anymore. He’ll probably always idolize him and have a bit of a crush on him, but that’s just because Namjoon is his hero. 

Jimin scrambles to keep the bills from falling off his chest. He doesn’t protest anymore, so Jungkook nods, satisfied. 

“Do you want to come up?” Jimin’s eyebrows raise, and he looks at Jungkook weirdly. Only then does Jungkook realize it sounded suggestive. He shoves Jimin’s shoulder. “Not like that!”

Jimin just laughs. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

“I promise my flat is cleaner than last time.”

Jimin hums. “Well, then. I guess I have to see it for myself, don’t I?”

Jungkook drags his bike out from the car himself, running to safety under the roof next to the entrance, where he locks it in the bike rack. Jimin runs to join him, hand raised over his head to protect his hair from the rain. 

His building is on the older side, the elevator so cramped only two people fit inside of it, and only if they plaster themselves to one another. They both cram themselves into a corner, but it’s still close enough for their sides to stick together. Jungkook feels the heat radiating off Jimin through his clothes, enjoying the contact more than he thought he would. His heart stutters, skin tingling; he feels embarrassed to be so affected when Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. They don’t look at each other, but Jungkook hears Jimin suck in a heavy breath. He lets it go once the elevator doors ding open.

Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said his apartment was cleaner — he’d vacuumed and mopped the floors that weekend, he’d done his laundry, his dishes were clean outside of a plate or two left in the sink. His fridge still wasn’t as full as he’d like it to be, but it offered a lot more than what it did the last time Jimin had come over. It still isn’t big — Jungkook doesn’t mind that fact as much this time around.

“I can make you dinner,” Jungkook offers. “As thanks.”

Jimin smiles at him from where he’s crouching down to take his shoes off. He leaves them on the shore rack. Seeing them next to Jungkook’s own shoes is strange — he isn’t used to the sight. “Don’t be dramatic. I only drove you home.”

Ah. The stubbornness. The pride. Jungkook recognizes it all too well. Seeing this facet of Jimin’s personality in this new context— it’s not bad. Jungkook just has to fit it into the picture of Jimin that he knows. 

Is it pride? Or is it his thoughtfulness? 

Jungkook turns to his kitchen. “I need to cook for myself anyway.”

Jimin seems to accept that excuse easily enough. He doesn’t complain, following Jungkook into his tiny kitchen, standing at the edge of it. He crosses his arms with a playful smile. “Am I going to get a bowl of plain rice? Maybe some reheated vegetables if you’re fancy?”

Jungkook opens his fridge. “You’ll get nothing if you keep it up.”

Jimin laughs. It’s light, playful. It sounds nice. 

He offers to help prepare dinner after watching Jungkook for a few minutes — hovering. Jungkook immediately declines, sending him off to the living room. Telling him he can occupy himself with any game Jungkook has on his PS5. Jimin smiles knowingly at him — always so observant, reading between the lines, looking at Jungkook like he’s an open book — and settles on the couch, making himself comfortable. He seems to settle on a game quickly enough.

A few glances every so often reveals Jimin Jimin zooming past all the enemies in Bloodborne, defeating any bosses with no real difficulty, picking the most optimal routes Jungkook has seen in speedruns. He’s a tryhard. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Jungkook. 

Jimin is in the middle of fighting the horde of spiders when Jungkook plates their dinner and brings it to the coffee table. Jungkook cringes. “Ew.”

Jimin shoots him a quick glance before refocusing back on the game, taking only a few more seconds to defeat the boss. He immediately exits out of the game, joining Jungkook in helping him set the table. The food is nothing fancy — a chicken stir-fry with sliced vegetables and a bowl of rice. Jungkook isn’t very confident in his cooking skills, but this is one of the dishes he knows he can get somewhat right. Edible, at least. 

He doesn’t have a dinner table, so they sit on the floor in front of the TV as they eat. Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He hands Jungkook the controller, telling him to put on a show. Whatever he wants. He doesn’t complain when Jungkook puts on a cliche slice-of-life high school romance anime. While Jungkook thoroughly enjoys these kinds of stories, he admits that he put it on to tease Jimin — unable to resist. He can’t help but make life a little bit harder for Jimin, still. 

Jimin watches it earnestly, invested. He does poke fun at it good-heartedly, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The fact that it’s bad is half the fun. 

“Stupid fun,” Jimin says when an episode ends, shaking his head. 

Jungkook grins. It feels a bit weird, still, to be hanging out with Jimin like this. But he’s not so bad. Jungkook could get used to this. 

Jimin thanks him earnestly for the food. They don’t stop watching even when they’re done eating. They don’t move to the couch. The floor is hard, but Jimin doesn’t say anything about it, resting his back against the couch, eyes glued to the TV. 

He clicks his tongue. On screen, the female character wakes up early to bake her love interest cookies. “Why is she the one baking for him? Dumb, boring, and toxic. A dreadful combination. He should be the one slaving away in the kitchen and begging for her forgiveness.”

He sounds so affronted that Jungkook snickers. “The bad behavior is what makes him attractive!”

Jimin twists his head to look at him, face scrunched in concern. “You have feelings for a man like Namjoon, and yet you defend this soggy piece of tissue?”

Jungkook snaps his jaw shut, chewing on his bottom lip. He turns back to the TV, but he’s not watching it. At the sudden silence, Jimin tilts his head, before he straightens in alarm — head lifting off the couch cushion — realization dawning on his face. “Do you not like Namjoon anymore?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to reply then closes it again, unsure how to word his answer. “I don’t… not like him?” His voice is quiet. Hesitant. 

Jimin stares at him in shock before slumping back against the couch, his breath leaving him. “10 years of liking him, gone the moment you saw him with Yoongi. Damn.”

Jungkook splutters. “It wasn’t 10 years! And he’s married! How long did you even like him for?”

Jimin settles an elbow on the couch, hand dangling off, his other hand playing with his rings as he hums. Pondering the question. He looks at the floor. “A bit over a year. Give or take.”

Jungkook doesn’t know which answer he was hoping to hear, but it’s thankfully not as dramatic as he expected. “Hm. Rookie numbers.”

Jimin drops his head to the couch, peering up at Jungkook through his lashes. He grins teasingly. “Want me to break that record?”

It takes Jungkook a second to catch on to the meaning of Jimin’s words. His whole body twists when he does  — face, heart, lungs, stomach — a violent blush rippling across his skin, the heat reaching his ears. He breaks eye contact, refusing to answer. Not knowing how he should. Not knowing how he wants to. Jimin doesn’t push.

They don’t rewind the episode to see what they missed. It’s not hard to guess, with how predictably cliche the story is. 

At the end of an episode, Jimin stands to gather the dishes, silently bringing them to the kitchen. Jungkook makes a noise of protest, moving to stand up; Jimin settles him with a pointed look. Jungkook stays seated.

The sound of running water makes a drop of guilt, and embarrassment, pool in Jungkook’s stomach. It was Jimin’s own idea, but Jungkook still feels bad at his guest washing the dishes for him. Jimin sits back down quietly when he’s done, his fingers empty, rings clinking together in his pocket. His hands are slightly damp. Jungkook thanks him, but Jimin waves him off easily. 

“Next episode?” he asks. 

Jungkook nods, pleasantly surprised that Jimin wants to continue hanging out, having expected Jimin to slowly make his way out after having washed the dishes. Jungkook brings his legs closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, making himself more comfortable for the next episode. Jimin feels warm next to him, even if Jungkook doesn’t think he’s sitting much closer than before.

Jungkook jolts awake when Jimin moves under him, wincing when he realizes he’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. It’s fully dark outside. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re cute. My shoulder was falling asleep, though.”

Jungkook snorts, ignoring that Jimin called him cute. His brain is sluggish, still half-asleep. His head feels heavy when he lifts it. “How can a shoulder fall asleep, dumbass.”

“Try having someone’s big head on your shoulder for an hour and see how you feel.”

Jungkook grimaces. “An hour?”

Jimin stops rubbing his shoulder dramatically, shrugging. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind. I should probably head home, though.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jungkook rubs his eyes, trying to make himself more awake. 

Jimin smiles at him, ruffling his hair. The touch sends sparks down Jungkook’s spine. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Jungkook mumbles before yawning, walking Jimin to his door and waving him off.

 Jimin’s expression is soft when they part ways. It’s the softest he’s ever looked. His features don’t look as sharp in the low lighting, eyes crinkled at the corners.

The last stretch of work is stressful, but Namjoon is determined to make everyone leave their desks at a reasonable time each night. 

Jimin and Jungkook don’t hang out again for a while, even though Jungkook wants to — until he finds the courage to bring up Jimin’s abandoned Bloodborne playthrough and ask him if Jimin wants to finish it. Jimin agrees easily. Jungkook wonders if Jimin felt the same urge to spend more time together, but was too afraid to ask and potentially make Jungkook uncomfortable. They finish the anime, too. Jimin says he’s never watching anything like that ever again. 

The game releases officially a few weeks later. Bryan’s Door is a fantasy RPG with witty, complex, and surprisingly emotional writing at times, with a stunning artstyle and soundtrack to boot. The game knows when not to take itself too seriously, paving the way for a fun — at times ridiculous — gaming experience. 

The whole team sits around Namjoon’s PC when the game officially goes live, watching with bated breath as the first few sales come dropping in. A few months back, they’d expected just a few sales the first day, maybe twenty if they were lucky. By the end of the first day, they’ve sold more than a few thousand copies. Everyone in the group has the same awestruck expression on their face. 

Namjoon cries, gives them all a big hug and thanks them for believing in his vision. Being embraced by Namjoon feels better than Jungkook could’ve ever imagined. Seeing him openly crying makes Jungkook tear up too, and Jimin clicks his tongue at him, smiling teasingly as he wipes Jungkook’s tears. Jungkook can tell he’s emotional too. He sees the way he secretly rubs his eyes when no one’s watching.

Namjoon invites them all over to his flat for a celebratory dinner, and they order way more soju than they should realistically drink. By the end of the night, they’re all shitfaced, giggling uncontrollably at Jungkook when he bursts into tears and confesses how much he loves all of them. Seokjin starts crying too, and then he’s hitting Jungkook for making him emotional. 

Since no one can drive home, they all crash at Namjoon’s place, falling asleep wherever they can. Jungkook ends up curled on the floor next to Jimin, sharing a pillow, and if he ends up studying Jimin’s features longer than he should, that’s no one’s business but his own. 

Jimin drives him home the next morning, as they all have a day off work before the onslaught of bug reports start coming in, and ends up spending half the day finishing his playthrough of Bloodborne on Jungkook’s PS5 while Jungkook watches, curled up next to him on the couch.

The next few days, Jimin and Seokjin work tirelessly to fix the more urgent bugs. Jungkook’s mom calls him to congratulate him on a successful release, and Jungkook can’t deny the relief he feels at finally knowing he’s not going to go into severe debt. Jungkook makes sure to leave snacks on their desks for their hard work.

At the end of the week, Namjoon takes them out to another restaurant to celebrate, the game having sold almost a hundred thousand copies. With drinks flowing smoothly, Jungkook quickly overheats, excusing himself to get some fresh air in the alley next to the restaurant. Alcohol has the unfortunate effect of making him emotional, so it’s not long before tears start brimming in his eyes as he thinks about the unexpected success they’ve had — after all the grueling work they put in to make it happen.

The door opens next to him, the bustle of the restaurant seeping into the alley as Jimin steps into it.

Jimin sighs fondly when he spots Jungkook’s tears, bringing his sleeve over his hand to wipe them away for him. “Crybaby.”

Jungkook’s heart flutters at the action. The care with which Jimin touches him. Their faces are close.

“I saw you secretly wiping your tears on Monday. Don’t even start,” he warbles.

One corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts in a crooked, goofy smile, no real embarrassment to be seen at having been caught being emotional. His smiles always light his face up, his cheeks bunching up prettily.

“Have you noticed the way Namjoon and Yoongi keep sneakily touching each other?” Jimin leans in closer to say it, conspiratorial. His breath washes over Jungkook’s face. Their noses are almost touching.

“Ugh,” Jungkook says.

“I agree. Disgusting.”

Jungkook sniffles, wiping his nose. Jimin steps back, the edges of his sleeve slightly damp. He motions towards Jungkook’s body. “Nice outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replies, deadpan, his voice sounding thick still. “Some guy helped me with it.”

Jimin whips his imaginary long hair behind his shoulder, posing proudly. “He did a good job.” Jungkook giggles. He’s drunk, overly warm, emotional, but he can’t remember the last time someone made him giggle. Christ, what’s wrong with him?

Jimin leads Jungkook back in with a hand on his back, then pats him once on the thigh under the table. The touch leaves Jungkook’s skin feeling electrified, like a physical mark that doesn’t go away until they’re all hobbling out of the restaurant late at night and Jimin drives him home, sending him off with a soft smile that twists Jungkook’s stomach. 

Jungkook can’t stop stealing glances at him. This is bad.

Jungkook finds relief in work. They all throw themselves back into it — less frantically than the weeks leading up to the release, but at a comfortable pace — working on future updates and improvements to the game. It offers a nice distraction. 

He doesn’t know why he feels the need for one. He knows Jimin likes him (and the thought sends a rush down his spine every time he has it), so theoretically, there’s no issue. Except there is. Jungkook feels off-kilter. He supposes it’s a shift in worldview. 

Jimin comes over again to finish his Bloodborne playthrough. He breezes through it, uncaring of Jungkook calling him a show-off. They start another romance anime after that, despite Jimin’s complaints. He whines loudly about it, but doesn’t fight to take the controller from Jungkook’s hands. Sometimes Jungkook thinks Jimin is more invested in the show than he is. 

Jungkook’s birthday comes around. The entire team hides around corners in the office and jumps out the moment Jungkook arrives at the office, startling him so strongly he falls back on his butt. Hoseok laughs so hard he cries. They almost make up for their horrible surprise with the chocolate cake they got him, topped with a little Eevee birthday candle. 

“They grow up so fast,” Jin sighs, swerving to avoid the kick Jungkook throws towards his shin. 

On the way back to his desk, Jimin nudges him to get Jungkook’s attention. “Let me take you out for ice cream after work.” Jungkook’s never going to say no to that. 

Lunch time rolls around. Jimin gets a call, his generic Samsung ringtone catching the attention of the whole office. He excuses himself, scuttering out of the office into the hallway. Jungkook watches him go, curious. When he comes back, he drags Namjoon into the small meeting room. Jungkook leaves his desk to lean against the door, too nosy for his own good. Yoongi looks at him curiously but doesn’t stop him. Jungkook bets he secretly wants to know, too. 

The voices are quiet, muffled. It’s hard to make out what’s being said. 

“...full-time. Benefits included. I’d just have to go in for a short interview. Said I was one of the best junior developers he’s ever had, and he’d seen the buzz surrounding Bryan’s Door .” Nothing in Jimin’s voice betrays how he feels about it.

A stone drops into Jungkook’s gut. He reels back from the door, unsettled. A lot more hurt than he’d expected. The door stares back at him, a dull gray that spans his entire vision. If this means what he thinks it means—

He doesn’t think Jimin will leave, but… what if he does? There’s no telling how long the success of Bryan’s Door will last. They could be barrelling straight back into financial insecurity. Working conditions at big companies are notoriously horrible, but this might be a good deal. It has to be if Jimin is telling Namjoon about it. 

It’s not fair. 

They’ve become friends. They’ve somehow gone from hating each other’s guts, and now that Jungkook is coming to terms with— his feelings, the universe wants to rip Jimin away from him? Is this a sign that he took too long — that Jimin has moved on already? 

It has to be if Jimin is considering the offer.

Jungkook doesn’t think he can listen to the rest. He doesn’t want to know. He won’t be able to handle it if Jimin’s decision is anything other than staying. 

Work passes slowly, Jungkook’s mind swirling with bleak possibilities. Jimin should do what’s best for him, he tells himself. He can’t quite convince himself that he earnestly wants that. Taehyung seems worried at Jungkook’s sudden dejection, but Jungkook brushes him off. Tells himself it’s fine. This doesn’t have to mean the end.

Jimin’s easy smile turns into a concerned frown when he looks Jungkook over after work; Jungkook assumes his anguish is written all over his face. He knows his mood is muted, something it shouldn’t be on his own birthday, but gathering up the energy to seem excited when his gut is twisted in nausea is too difficult. 

The drive is mostly quiet, generic pop filtering out from the radio. Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. Jimin keeps glancing at him, but Jungkook doesn’t have the courage to meet his gaze. Feels like Jimin will immediately be able to read the reason behind his hurt if he does. 

It’s easier to drag up some semblance of enthusiasm when they’re inside the shop, rows of beautiful gelato laid out right in front of him. This is Jimin’s gift for him, after all — Jungkook goes overboard with the toppings on his chocolate ice cream in an effort to seem excited, laughing genuinely at the plain disgust on Jimin’s face. Jimin seems to relax at the sight, the tightness between his brows disappearing. 

They eat at a table outside. The weather is nice, a gentle, warm breeze ruffling his hair. The contrast between Jungkook’s mountain of chocolate, sprinkles, whipped cream and Jimin’s simple and small bowl of vanilla and strawberry makes them laugh. 

Still, Jungkook can’t get what he overheard at lunch out of his head. He swirls his spoon through the sludge of his ice cream, thinking. Jimin notices his shifting mood, putting his spoon down.

“What’s up?”

Jungkook looks up at him, lips thinning. He doesn’t know how to approach the topic. 

“Are you leaving the team?”

Jimin leans back, eyes wide. He abandons his spoon entirely. While he seems caught off-guard, he doesn’t look surprised that Jungkook knows, composing himself quickly.

“We would still be able to hang out.”

Oh. Jungkook’s stomach shrinks entirely, and he drops his spoon with a clatter. He hugs himself around his midriff, throat closing off. It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be. Most people don’t work with their friends or crushes. 

He hates the idea of Jimin leaving.

“So you’re leaving.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.” 

Jimin looks at him for a long moment. As if he’s trying to work something out. Jungkook doesn’t know what there is to see. 

“Why do you care that much?”

“I don’t.” He does. “I do. I don’t like it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Jimin looks a bit pained when Jungkook says it. Friends doesn’t encompass what Jungkook has started feeling for Jimin but doesn’t want to admit, but what else can he say? He can’t put into words the pre-emptive sorrow he feels at the idea of Jimin leaving. 

Jimin observes him for a long moment. Jungkook hates that he still can’t read him, after all this time. But it hasn’t been long, has it? Since they started talking properly. Jungkook hated him for the longest time. How did it all change so quickly? 

“I’m not leaving,” he says decisively after a moment, taking another spoonful of ice cream. Jungkook feels all of his tension rush out of his whole body, leaving him light-headed with relief. “I just wanted to discuss it with Namjoon.”

“You’re not?”

“Promise,” Jimin smiles. His skin looks golden in the glow of sunset. There’s a warmth to it that Jungkook wants to engrave in his memories forever.

“Fuck,” Jungkook says, burying his face in his hands. Jimin laughs lightly at his antics. 

“Were you really that worried? I meant what I said. We could still hang out.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Jungkook pouts, looking away. He’s lost his appetite, but he doesn’t want the ice cream Jimin bought him to go to waste, so he forces himself to take another bite. 

Jimin huffs. He grabs a napkin, then leans over the table to wipe at Jungkook's chin. A gentle stroke as his other hand holds Jungkook’s chin in place, fingers light. Jungkook’s brain stumbles to an emergency halt, breath catching in his chest. His eyes are wide, taking in all the details of Jimin’s face — the mole on his cheek, his straight lashes; the brown of his eyes; the pink of lips. 

The soft brush of his fingers as they withdraw from Jungkook’s face, leaving a tingling warmth behind.

Then he's leaning back in his own seat, lips closing around a spoonful of ice cream. Peering at Jungkook in question like he didn’t just send him careening into a state of shock.

"You—" Jungkook stutters, gaping like a fish. Frozen in his seat. Jimin tilts his head.. "You can't just—" Jungkook takes a deep breath, splaying a hand over the lower half of his face as he sinks into his seat. His face feels overly warm. His brain malfunctioning. "Please just kiss me," he blurts. 

Jimin freezes, spoon hovering in mid-air. 

His face goes through a myriad of emotions, but Jungkook thinks he's never seen him look as bewildered as he currently does. 

"What?" he asks dumbly. 

"Please," Jungkook repeats, closing his eyes tightly. "You can't do these kinds of things and expect me to not lose my mind. I like you too much. It just happened. You can't keep touching me casually like this."

When Jungkook peeks at Jimin through his fingers, Jimin hasn't moved. He's entirely still. A statue. 

"...What?" Is all Jimin manages to say after a few seconds of silence, repeating himself like a broken record.

Jungkook uncovers half his face, swallowing heavily. He's done it now. He can't even blame it on being drunk, he— simply reached his breaking point. 

"Take responsibility," Jungkook mumbles, slumping over the table.

Jimin has to physically shake himself out of it, finally dropping his spoon and pushing his bowl away. In a flash, he's pulled his chair forward — the legs scraping harshly against the concrete — grabbed the back of Jungkook's head, and dragged him into a kiss over the table. 

His lips are soft, but firm. Demanding. It's nothing more than a press of their lips, a peck, and it takes Jungkook a moment to catch up before he's pushing back. Moving his lips against Jimin's when Jimin leans back to take a breath before pressing back in. 

Jungkook has to brace himself on the table as Jimin's unyielding grip keeps his head locked. His neck aches at the uncomfortable position, but Jungkook wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Jimin's hand feels strong and secure against him, their lips moving together with insistence. 

Jimin tugs like he’s trying to pull him impossibly closer. The edge of the table digs into Jungkook’s stomach, almost painful, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. One of his hands tangles at the front of Jimin’s shirt, the fabric twisting dangerously under his fingers. He breathes a soft sound when Jimin responds in kind, his other hand reaching up to cradle Jungkook’s jaw. Tender. The opposite of his tightening hold on Jungkook’s head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Jimin groans, drawing back to kiss Jungkook one, two, three more times before dropping his head, breathing heavily. Jungkook feels just as breathless, even if nothing about the kiss was heated. 

"What the fuck," Jimin whispers to himself. His hand is still tangled in Jungkook's hair. 

Jungkook starts giggling, and when he starts, he can't stop it; before long, he's laughing loudly, incredulous. In disbelief that this is real. 

Jimin looks at him curiously before breaking out into his own giggles, hunching over the table with Jungkook. 

It doesn't take him long to pull Jungkook back into another kiss, their smiles too wide for their lips to meet properly.

They don't immediately tell anyone at work. 

When Jungkook's mom calls him during a weekend when Jimin is over, Jungkook hurries to tell Jimin to be quiet. His mom is too perceptive for her own good. If she so much as hears Jimin breathe, she'll immediately know something is up. 

"How's my favorite son doing!" she asks, chipper.

"I'm your only son, mom." Jimin curls a hand around the back of his neck, massaging gently. He scoots closer to hear the conversation more clearly, their bare thighs pressed together. Jungkook isn’t used to showing this much skin to anyone, but Jimin really likes his legs, so— he doesn’t mind walking around in boxers more often.

"Details," she says, waving him off. "How's the game going? Have you found yourself a boyfriend now that you're rich?"

Next to him, Jimin muffles a giggle. Jungkook glares at him sternly. "The game is doing well, but we're not rich yet, mom. Sorry to disappoint."

"Soon," she says with conviction. "I check the sales every week!"

"Thanks, mom."

A moment of silence.

"So," she starts, and Jungkook bites back a groan. "You never answered my other question. Boyfriend?"

Jungkook hesitates for too long. 

His mom gasps excitedly. "You do!" she squeals. "Show me!"

"I'm not showing you him," Jungkook hisses, blushing. 

"Oh come on," Jimin cuts in. Jungkook's mom gasps again at his voice. "You can introduce us."

"You absolutely can," his mom says in a low voice. "I'm calling back on FaceTime."

She immediately hangs up, and a second later Jungkook's phone lights up with a FaceTime call. Jungkook groans. Jimin, on the other hand, looks way more excited than he should be. Figures he'd be a mom-charmer.

"Where is he?" his mom immediately asks when Jungkook accepts the call. Jimin drapes his arm around his shoulder, leaning into the frame. He waves happily with a grin. Jungkook's mom gasps dramatically for the third time, putting a hand over her mouth. "He's so handsome! How did you bag that?"

"Mom," Jungkook protests. 

"I'm very flattered," Jimin says charmingly. "You're very beautiful yourself. I can see where your son got his good looks from."

Jungkook hates that his boyfriend is the type to flirt with his mom. Horrible. Terrible fate. 

Jungkook's mom softens, her eyes sparkling with glee. Jungkook can tell she's already going to like Jimin more than she ever liked him. "Oh, you!"

The only reason the team finds out, weeks later, is because Yoongi walks in on them kissing in the hallway. It feels like a cruel parallel to when Jungkook caught Yoongi in the exact same position. Jimin seems smug about it, refusing to back away from where he’s got Jungkook trapped against the wall. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at the action, but doesn’t say anything. Jungkook hides his face in Jimin’s neck.

Yoongi brings him aside to talk about it, later. "To be honest, I kind of suspected this already. I knew you liked Namjoon for a long time."

Jungkook blanches. "You knew?"

Yoongi smiles, amused. "You were kind of obvious about it, sorry. You were cute, though. I wouldn't have minded you joining our relationship."

"I—" This feels like a nuclear-level bomb of a revelation. Jungkook has no idea how to process this. "What?"

Yoongi shrugs, still smiling, walking back to his own desk. 

Namjoon calls a meeting. Everyone gathers around the table as Namjoon asks Jimin and Jungkook if they have anything to say for themselves. Jimin grabs Jungkook's hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. Jungkook's face bursts into flames as the table erupts into chaos. 

"God," Hoseok says. "I should have expected this, but I still can't believe it. Weeks! You hid this from us for weeks! I can't trust anyone on this team! Next thing I know, I'm finding out Yoongi has been in a relationship for years!"

Namjoon chokes. Jungkook and Jimin snort at the same time. Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee. 

Hoseok groans. "You've got to be kidding me."