Work Text:
Title from Beyoncé ft Jack White - Don't Hurt Yourself
The video auto-plays before Jimin can stop it.
It's grainy. Shaky. Shot like someone didn't want to get caught filming and still wanted the whole world to see it.
But there's no mistaking him.
Jungkook's jacket. His walk. That same apartment building Jimin used to know by heart.
And her.
Long hair. Cute laugh. A purse that looks expensive enough to piss Jimin off even more. Jungkook holds the door open for her, like it's normal, like his hand hasn't held Jimin's waist in that exact hallway.
The date stamp reads: eight months ago.
Right in the middle of their break.
Jimin barely registers that his thumb is shaking as he scrolls.
He shouldn't scroll.
He scrolls anyway.
And it gets worse.
Because he finds it.
The second video.
Ten months ago.
Different girl.
Same building.
Same Jungkook smile.
That small smile he used to give Jimin when he was trying not to look too in love in public.
The comments rip Jimin open like they have teeth.
isn't he supposed to be with that jimin guy?
LMAOOO guess the break is permanent
she's so pretty omg who is she
another one? didn't we see him with someone else last year too?
Jimin's breath stops.
His phone hits the wall before he knows he's thrown it.
The screen cracks like a spiderweb but the audio keeps playing, some pathetic trending heartbreak sound that makes Jimin's eyes burn.
His hands shake.
No.
His whole body shakes.
Because for an entire year, Jimin has been good.
Perfect.
Sweet as sugar, soft as silk—everyone says so. Jimin with his gentle laugh and his careful words and his thoughtful gestures. Jimin who brings homemade cookies to the studio. Jimin who remembers everyone's coffee order. Jimin who smiles like sunlight even when he's dying inside.
He has been the poster boy for restraint. For composure. For "taking time to heal."
He's been doing the mature thing.
The adult thing.
The graceful thing.
And Jungkook has been letting strangers into the life that was supposed to be theirs.
Jimin's vision blurs.
He turns his head slowly, like his body already knows what it wants before his mind catches up.
The baseball bat in the corner.
The one Jungkook bought him three years ago.
A joke gift, almost. A soft little "I remembered you said you used to love this."
Jimin never used it.
It's been collecting dust.
Not anymore.
The metal is cold and heavy in his hand.
And the second his fingers curl around it, something in him clicks into place like a lock.
He doesn't put on a jacket.
It's February.
He should feel the cold.
But he doesn't feel anything except rage like electricity under his skin.
I gave you everything, Jungkook.
And this is what I get?
The drive takes twelve minutes.
Jimin makes it in seven.
Two red lights. One illegal turn. No regrets.
He still has a key.
Because they never asked for them back.
Because the break was supposed to be temporary.
Because nobody wanted to make it real.
Because the truth is, they were both waiting for the other person to come crawling first.
Jimin's hands shake again when he fits the key into the lock.
It turns like it remembers him.
The apartment is dim.
Quiet.
Too calm.
Like Jungkook has the audacity to be okay.
There's light under the bedroom door.
Music playing soft.
A slow song Jimin introduced him to years ago.
Like the soundtrack of betrayal.
Jimin steps into the living room and his eyes adjust.
And then he sees it.
Two wine glasses on the coffee table.
Bright red.
Like blood.
Jimin freezes.
For half a second.
Just long enough for something inside him to snap.
The bat comes down.
Glass explodes in a thousand pieces.
It is violent and loud and so satisfying Jimin does it again, slamming the bat into the bent metal frame like it personally insulted him.
The wine glasses go flying.
Red wine splashes across Jungkook's white couch like a crime scene.
The sound that comes out of Jimin's throat is not a sob.
It's not a scream.
It's a laugh, sharp and cracked and completely unhinged.
"Cute," he whispers, staring at the couch.
"Real cute."
The bedroom door swings open.
"What the fu—"
Jungkook stops in the doorway.
Shirtless. Hair messy. Sweatpants low on his hips.
He looks like he was halfway through being normal.
Halfway through being fine.
His eyes land on Jimin.
On the bat.
On the destroyed coffee table.
On the wine bleeding into the fabric.
"Jimin?" he breathes, like the name physically hurts.
Jimin's chest rises and falls too fast.
He looks up slowly and smiles.
That smile.
The one that used to make Jungkook's knees weak.
Sweet. Devastating. Dainty as a flower with teeth.
"Hi, baby," Jimin says softly.
Like he just stopped by to say hello.
Like he's not holding a weapon.
Jungkook's face goes white. "Hyung—what are you—"
Jimin tilts his head, considering.
"I could've texted," he says, voice light. Conversational.
He takes one step forward.
"I could've called."
Another step.
The bat taps gently against his thigh.
"I could've been mature about this."
His smile sharpens.
"But I wanted you to see me like this."
Jungkook swallows hard.
Jimin's eyes glitter, bright and feverish.
"I wanted you to see what you did."
He swings.
This time the TV stand.
The lamp goes flying.
Jungkook flinches.
"Stop—Jimin, stop!"
Jimin whirls on him with the bat raised.
"Don't."
The word comes out low. Dangerous.
Jungkook freezes immediately.
And Jimin loves it.
Not because he wants Jungkook scared.
Because Jungkook finally looks like he understands.
"Don't you ever tell me to stop like I'm the crazy one," Jimin says, voice shaking. "Not when you've been doing whatever the hell this is."
"Jimin, please, I don't—"
"The TikToks," Jimin says sweetly. "I saw them."
Jungkook's face drains of color so fast it's almost comedic.
"Oh my god…"
"Oh my god is right," Jimin says, and his smile turns ugly.
He storms toward the bookshelf.
The one with their life on it.
Vinyls. Memories. Stupid souvenirs from trips. Polaroids of them smiling like they weren't doomed.
Jimin sweeps his arm across it.
Everything crashes.
Frames shatter.
A photo of them in matching hoodies breaks clean down the middle.
Jungkook lurches forward and grabs Jimin's wrist.
"Jimin, please—"
Jimin jerks away like the touch burns.
"Touching me now?" he snaps. "Oh now you remember I exist?"
His smile is wrong.
Not sweet. Not soft.
It's the kind that comes right before something breaks.
He tilts his head, breath shuddering like he's trying not to sob and failing at it.
And when he speaks, his voice is painfully calm.
Almost gentle.
"So tell me."
Jungkook's throat bobs. "Jimin—"
Jimin shushes him with a tiny lift of the bat.
"No. Don't. Don't ruin it."
His eyes flick over Jungkook's bare chest like he's memorizing it. Like he's trying to carve it into himself before he loses it again.
"Did they give it to you the way I do?"
Jungkook freezes.
Jimin laughs once. A small sound. Sharp.
"Did they take you the way I take you?"
He takes one slow step closer. Another.
Each step measured like he's stalking something.
"Did they look at you like you were holy?" Jimin whispers. "Like you were the only thing standing between them and collapsing?"
Jungkook's eyes gloss. "Stop—"
Jimin's smile widens, trembling at the edges.
"Oh, you want me to stop?"
He leans forward slightly, voice turning sweet like poison.
"You didn't stop."
His fingers flex tighter around the bat.
"Did they let you be needy, Jungkook?" Jimin asks, almost curious.
"Did they let you be obsessive and clingy and possessive the way you are with me?"
Jungkook flinches like he's been slapped.
Jimin's eyes shine, bright and glassy, full of pain that turned mean out of self-defense.
"Did they hold your face after, like you're something that needs saving?"
His laugh splinters.
"Or did you just… finish and go quiet like you do when you're ashamed of wanting too much?"
Jungkook's mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Jimin hums like he's thinking.
"And did you say my name?"
Jungkook swallows hard.
Jimin's smile becomes feral.
"Oh. That's interesting."
He lifts the bat and points it at Jungkook's chest like an accusation.
"Because I'm pretty sure you did."
Jungkook's breath breaks. "Jimin, I—"
Jimin's arm jerks.
The bat slams into the dining table.
Wood cracks.
The sound echoes like a gunshot.
"Don't lie to me," Jimin spits, voice suddenly shaking again. "Not when I'm standing in your house with grief in my hands."
Jimin wipes his face with the back of his hand like he's angry at the tears for existing.
He laughs again—a warped sound.
"I gave you everything, Jungkook."
His voice goes low, soft, almost loving.
"My heart. My body. My youth."
He gestures with the bat like it's a conductor's wand, like he's orchestrating his own downfall.
"And we said we'd take a break, right?"
His head tilts.
"Just long enough to figure ourselves out."
He nods slowly like he believes it.
Then his eyes sharpen.
"But c'mon."
His voice drops into something quieter.
Something uglier.
"Industry girls…"
Jimin's smile trembles, half-sob, half-snarl.
"…who aren't even half of me…"
He looks Jungkook up and down like he's measuring him.
Then he whispers:
"…having what is half of me."
It lands like a curse.
Jungkook looks ruined.
And Jimin laughs like he can't stop himself.
"That's crazy," he says softly. "That's insane, actually."
He lifts the bat and lightly taps it against his shoulder, thinking.
"Industry girls."
He says it again, like he's testing the weight of it.
Like it's a mantra.
"Who aren't even half of me."
His voice cracks.
"Having what is half of me."
Each repetition builds.
Gets sharper.
More certain.
"You let industry girls—"
He laughs, broken and bright.
"—touch what I earned."
Jungkook steps forward. "Jimin, I didn't—"
Jimin swings the bat into the cabinet so hard the door splinters.
"You DID."
He points it at him again, shaking.
"You did. You let them have the parts of you I carved out with my blood, sweat, and love."
Jimin's breathing slows.
Not because he's calmer.
Because he's going somewhere colder.
He smiles.
"Oh, baby."
Jungkook's eyes flicker. "Don't call me that."
Jimin's laugh is quiet. Fond. Horrible.
"Why not?"
He steps in like he belongs there, like he never left.
"That's what you are."
His gaze slides down Jungkook's body like he's remembering everything.
Then he looks back up and his voice turns velvet-soft.
"Did she make you feel big? Isn't that what you've always wanted, huh? For me to let you be the big one, the hyung? And didn't I?"
A pause.
"Did she make you feel wanted?"
Jungkook's mouth tightens.
Jimin nods like he expected that.
"Or did she make you feel lonely even while she was touching you?"
Jungkook's eyes shine.
Jimin's smile breaks into something manic.
"Oh my god," Jimin whispers, laughing like he's losing it.
"You were lonely."
He points the bat at him again, like he's aiming.
"You were lonely with someone else in your bed."
Jungkook takes another step. "Jimin, please."
Jimin's face twists.
"Please?" he echoes.
"Please is what you said when you pulled me back into you every time you got scared."
His voice grows sharper.
"Please is what you said when you didn't want me to leave."
He slams the bat into the kitchen island.
A crack splits through the wood.
"Don't please me now."
Jimin's voice drops so low Jungkook has to lean in to hear him.
"That's the problem, Jungkook."
He smiles like he's telling a secret.
"You can't unlearn me."
Jungkook whispers, "Jimin…"
Jimin shakes his head, eyes burning.
"You can put your hands on other people."
He nods like he's being fair. Like he's being reasonable.
"You can try to make them feel like home."
Then his expression sharpens.
"But you'll never stop remembering what home actually is."
He taps the bat against the floor once.
Once.
Like a countdown.
"Because I trained you."
Jungkook's breath catches.
Jimin's smile trembles.
"Your body knows me."
His voice cracks.
"Your mouth knows me. Your hands know me. Your need knows me."
He laughs, broken.
"So tell me—when she touched you…"
Jimin tilts his head, cruel and desperate.
"…did you still feel empty?"
Jungkook's eyes fill with tears.
Jimin nods once like he won.
"Yeah."
A whisper.
"I know."
Then he swings the bat into the wall and the sound is pure heartbreak wearing violence as a costume.
Jimin grabs something to throw.
A frame.
He holds it up.
And freezes.
Because it's a picture of them.
On a balcony. Laughing. Jungkook kissing his cheek while Jimin's eyes are half-closed like he's trying not to smile too hard.
Jimin's fingers shake.
He can't throw it.
His breath catches.
Then he drops it.
It lands gently in the middle of shattered glass like it's being spared.
And that's when his whole face collapses.
Like his body finally understands the truth.
This is not rage.
This is grief wearing rage like armor.
Jimin's knees buckle.
He slides down the kitchen island, bat clattering from his hand.
His palms press against his chest like he's trying to stop his heart from breaking out of him.
"I gave you everything," he says, voice small now. Ruined. "My heart. My life. My body. My youth."
Jungkook stands there frozen, shaking like he's about to fall apart too.
Jimin looks up through tears.
"And yeah," he chokes. "We said we'd take a break to figure ourselves out."
His voice rises again, broken and furious.
"But c'mon, Jungkook."
He laughs once, bitter.
"Industry girls—"
The words taste like acid.
"—who aren't even half of me—"
His voice cracks completely.
"—are having what is half of me?"
Jungkook makes a sound like he's been stabbed.
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what?" Jimin whispers. "Like I'm not humiliated?"
Jimin wipes his face angrily.
"Do you want to know what I did during our break?"
Jungkook's voice cracks.
"Don't—"
"Zero," Jimin says.
Jungkook blinks.
Jimin laughs, shaking.
"I slept with zero people."
Jungkook's eyes widen in genuine shock.
"I didn't touch anyone," Jimin whispers. "Not once. Not even when I wanted to. Not even when I was lonely. Not even when I was angry."
His voice breaks so hard it almost disappears.
"Because how the hell am I supposed to touch someone else when you're the only person my body remembers?"
Jungkook looks like he's losing oxygen.
"Oh my god…"
Jimin's laugh turns into a sob.
"I spent a year pretending I was discovering myself," Jimin whispers. "I went to parties. I smiled for pictures. I laughed with friends. I was so sweet about it. So graceful. So understanding."
His chin trembles.
"And then I went home and died quietly."
Jungkook drops to his knees in front of him.
Glass crunches under his skin.
But he doesn't care.
"Jimin," he says softly, like a prayer. "I didn't know."
Jimin's face twists.
"You didn't know?" he snaps. "So what did you think this was? A breakup?"
"I thought you were done with me," Jungkook admits, raw. "I thought you wanted space from me because I was too much."
Jimin stares at him, eyes wide.
"I never wanted space from you," he whispers.
"I thought you did," Jungkook says, voice shaking. "And I panicked. And I did the stupidest thing I could do."
Jimin's jaw tightens.
"You slept with them."
Jungkook nods once, shameful.
"I tried," he says hoarsely. "Because I thought I had lost you."
Jimin's eyes flare.
"So you tried to replace me."
"No," Jungkook says desperately. "I tried to survive it."
Jimin's breath stutters.
"I called one of them your name," Jungkook admits.
Jimin pauses.
"…You did not."
"I did," Jungkook whispers, miserable.
And Jimin's laugh breaks out through tears, sharp and watery.
"Good."
Jungkook lets out a cracked laugh too, then immediately starts crying again.
"I hated it," he says. "Every second of it. I hated myself. I hated this apartment. I hated my own hands."
Jimin's eyes soften. Just a fraction.
"I wasn't free," Jungkook says. "I was just alone."
Jimin's voice turns deadly quiet.
"So why didn't you come back."
Jungkook looks at him like he's terrified of the answer.
"Because you asked for the break."
Jimin swallows.
"I thought you wanted it."
Jungkook laughs wetly, incredulous.
"I thought you wanted it too."
A beat.
And then they both realize the same thing at the same time.
They ruined themselves for a year because they were both trying to love each other "correctly" instead of just… loving each other.
Jimin's hand shakes as he reaches out and grabs Jungkook's face.
His voice is small, devastating.
"I was never not yours."
Jungkook lets out this wounded sound, and his hands grab Jimin's wrists like he's trying to keep him real.
"I love you," Jungkook says, immediate, shaking. "I love you like it's a sickness."
Jimin laughs through tears.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Jungkook leans in, stops at the last second.
"Can I?"
Jimin looks at him like he wants to bite.
"You're asking permission now? After I committed a felony in your living room?"
Jungkook laughs again, teary.
"I don't want to assume."
That line cracks something in Jimin's chest clean open.
And all the anger drains into something softer.
Something starving.
Jimin's hand tightens on Jungkook's jaw.
His voice drops.
Soft.
But with steel underneath.
"Kiss me like you're apologizing," Jimin whispers. "Like you mean it this time."
His eyes lock onto Jungkook's.
"And if you fuck with me like this again, Jungkook…"
His smile is sweet again.
Dainty.
Lethal.
"…I'll fuck up more than this."
Jungkook's breath hitches.
And he believes him.
Completely.
"I know," Jungkook whispers. "I know you will."
Then he kisses him like he's dying.
Like he waited a year just to breathe again.
Jimin kisses back like he's claiming what he never stopped belonging to.
Messy.
Desperate.
Tears in their mouths.
Love like a disaster they're both choosing.
When they finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air, Jungkook laughs wetly.
"You know what's crazy?" he whispers.
Jimin hums, eyes still closed.
"I always thought I was the possessive one," Jungkook says. "The obsessive one. The one who loved too hard."
Jimin's eyes open.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"And?"
Jungkook's smile is trembling but real.
"Turns out you're just as insane as I am."
Jimin's laugh is soft. Almost fond.
"You're just figuring that out now?"
"I guess I forgot," Jungkook admits. "You're so… sweet. So gentle with everyone. So careful."
Jimin tilts his head.
That smile again.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he says lightly.
Then his eyes glitter.
"Or in this case—a man."
Jungkook's laugh breaks into something like relief.
"You destroyed my apartment."
"I know."
"You broke my coffee table. My TV stand. My—"
"I know," Jimin says sweetly.
He reaches up and fixes Jungkook's hair with gentle fingers.
Like he didn't just commit vandalism.
"And I'd do it again if you ever make me feel like I'm half of anything."
Jungkook's eyes shine.
"I won't," he whispers. "I swear to god, I won't."
"Good."
Jimin's hand slides down to cup Jungkook's cheek.
His thumb brushes away a tear.
"Because I would go to hell for you, Jungkook."
His voice is soft.
True.
"I would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you."
Jungkook kisses his palm.
"I know," he says. "I see that now."
"Do you?"
"Yeah," Jungkook breathes. "And it's the most terrifying, beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Jimin smiles.
Really smiles.
Sweet as honey.
Sharp as glass.
"Good," he whispers. "Remember that."
Then he kisses him again.
And this time, it tastes like forgiveness.
Like possession.
Like coming home to a house you set on fire just to prove you could rebuild it.
Together.
Later, when they're sitting in the wreckage of the living room, Jungkook looks around at the destruction and laughs.
"We have to clean this up."
Jimin hums, curled into his side.
"We will."
"The landlord is going to kill us."
"Let him try."
Jungkook snorts.
Then he looks down at Jimin—sweet, delicate Jimin with his soft features and his gentle voice—and shakes his head in wonder.
"You're terrifying, you know that?"
Jimin looks up at him through his lashes.
"Only when I need to be."
"Remind me to never piss you off again."
Jimin's smile is angelic.
"Oh, baby," he says sweetly. "You won't get the chance."
And somehow, that sounds like both a promise and a threat.
Jungkook wouldn't have it any other way.