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In Bangtan, if one heart broke, six other hearts broke with it too.
For Jungkook, Bangtan is love. Bangtan is life. Bangtan is family. They are the people he would do anything to keep.
Jungkook sits in the corner with this thought. He's quiet in the boisterous loudness of the dorm but that's nothing novel. It's just one of those days. His thoughts are too loud and he needs to think but he doesn't want his mind to wander into dangerous territories so he sits outside with his Hyungs.
With Hobi's shrill and resonating laughter booming in his ears, and Yoongi's loud ‘Ya. YA. Hajima, Taehyung-ah’, there isn't a chance for a coherent thought to form in Jungkook's head.
It's good. It's positively great.
Except it isn't.
It's bad, in fact.
Jungkook's chest hurts from time to time when he thinks about his fight with Jimin from a couple of days ago. In all honesty, he doesn't even remember why they fought, but he remembers Jimin's face and his disappointment, and then his resignation and forgiveness even though Jungkook hadn't specifically asked for it.
Jin is maybe breaking utensils in the kitchen, or worse, he's finally lost it and is burning everything down. No one is brave enough to go and check, because Namjoon sheepishly walks into the hall and there's this practiced look of mortification on his face that everyone recognizes with a loud, collective groan.
“I swear, it was an accident.” He's quick to clarify because Yoongi and Taehyung give him an eerily similar look of dead-eyed disdain.
“What did you break?”
“The fine China.”
Hobi gasps, eyes like saucers, “All of it?”
“Yeah, it was in the way.”
“So, it was on the floor?” Yoongi deadpans.
“No,” Namjoon rolls his eyes like he's just been asked the world's stupidest question, “It was above the cabinet, where it always is.”
Yoongi blinks and Jungkook just knows he's about to throw hands. “How in the name of God was it in the way?”
“That is a smart question,” Hobi says.
Jungkook doesn't butt in, but he enjoys the unraveling case of the broken fine China from afar. Yoongi usually doesn't care much, but when he gets invested, there is absolutely no shaking him.
This is more or less Jungkook's life. Chaos and comedy and the many joys and long-suffering sorrows of living with six others from different walks of life.
Well, this and Jimin.
You see, microanalyzing all his interactions with Jimin is a hobby Jungkook did not take lightly. Jimin is just so...Jimin, after all. Eccentric, caring, clingy, lovely, both wild and kind at the same time.
While Jungkook is the complete opposite.
Cold. Mean. Awkward.
Jungkook's head is in choppy waters again. On top of that, Jimin comes home from practice, and he's exhausted and flushed a beautiful pink, and suddenly, the loudness of the dorm is a faraway sound in Jungkook's ear. Also, he may or may not be hyperventilating on the inside.
Because Jimin has very thick and beaky lips, and they're always moist and soft, somehow, unlike Jungkook who keeps forgetting to put his lip balm on.
But Jimin is always…rosy.
Like…everywhere.
Jungkook doesn't know why he's so bothered by it, but he likes looking at Jimin. So, he looks and Jimin lets him, because maybe, just maybe, Jimin also likes it when Jungkook looks at him.
For the sake of his sanity, Jungkook doesn't think too much about it. But with Jimin splayed on the mattress beside him and so close, it's hard not to.
“Long day?” Jungkook asks quietly because he's awkward like that. Jimin only hums in response, eyes closed serenely despite the screaming match inches away from them. “Shower?”
A smile creeps onto his exhausted face. “Why, you wanna join?” He flirts and Jungkook goes fucking berserk a little because yes, maybe he wants to join and see if Jimin flushes rosy everywhere on his body. It's a morbid enough thought, and then Jimin opens his eyes and catches him staring, and that makes things way more worse somehow.
“Hmph, no,” Jungkook looks away with a grunt, “Want to sleep.” He closes his eyes and feels Jimin plop himself up on his elbow.
“Miss home?” He whispers too close to his ear and Jungkook's eyes whip open to see if someone is watching them. But everyone is busy scolding Namjoon for breaking the fine China so he turns his head to Jimin with only mild hesitance. “Me too.” He smiles and it's…sad.
“Sleep in your bed?” Jungkook asks because it's okay to ask. He knows Jimin would give him anything, half his portion of ramen, his last sip of orange juice, his turn to shower, a place in his bed, and forgiveness in the face of Jungkook’s blatant insults. Things like that.
“I'll save you some space if you don't hog the blanket.” Jimin teases.
And well, Jungkook feels fucking sick to his stomach because Jimin is an angel who he just keeps fucking exploiting, but it's not his fault that he can't help it, right?
So, Jungkook takes all that Jimin unconditionally gives him.
And he doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Jimin realizes crying under a soothing warm shower or in the comfortable darkness of his and Hobi's bedroom or even in the crisp, biting chill of the night on his way back to dorm is so much better than losing your happy go lucky facade in front of someone you consider family.
It's not their first fight. But it's the first time Jimin’s heart truly breaks. Jungkook does this sometimes, says stuff he doesn't mean because he's young and awkward. They fight sometimes, they argue and bicker, and it's normal because Jimin knows Jungkook has a good heart, and at the end of the day, he cares and means well.
Besides, Jimin has grown very thick skin over the years. Mean comments and remarks over his looks and weight don't bother him anymore.
Or so he thinks they don't.
But one triggering word and Jimin shatters like a doll made of glass. He stops eating. Or if he does eat, he retches it all out.
So, yes, Jimin’s thick skin is for show. He isn't actually who the company portrays him as. He isn't manly, he isn't a bad boy. It's just a concept forced onto him and it's bad enough that he has to live with it, that he has to wake up and hit the gym rather than doing what he loves and is good at; dancing.
But Jungkook is the one person who he finds comfort in. He's shy so he pushes Jimin away all the time, makes fun of his height, and calls him names and fights with him, but he always comes back.
He's Jimin’s home away from home.
Jimin's Busan in Seoul.
It's the people that you love that hurt you the most, after all. But love wouldn't be love if it didn't hurt a little, right?
And in Jimin’s experience, it hurt plenty.
They are back at the dorm from some show when it happens. Jimin is exhausted from putting up a front all day long, so naturally, he wants nothing more than to wash up and go to bed.
Hobi is in the shower so he's waiting his turn, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. His eyelids are so heavy, he doesn't know if he'll be lucid enough to change and bathe.
But then Jungkook steps into the room and Jimin perks up like a cat. He's smiling like an idiot and he's almost about to tell the younger to sleep in his own bed as a joke because Jungkook never comes to him at night for anything other than wanting to sleep with him.
Or so Jimin thinks.
“Just…stop! Stop approaching me in front of everyone, Jimin!” Jungkook bursts out of nowhere. He's shaking with a discomfiting rage, and Jimin’s heart lurches, the thought comes to him unbridled: what did I do now? “It's creepy! People are thinking all sorts of weird things about us, and I don't like it!”
Jimin blinks. Because Jungkook is frustrated enough that his eyes tear up. And he doesn't understand why. He never understands why. Jungkook runs on fumes, he's hot and he's cold and he's warm and he's lovely, and Jimin never knows which version he will get.
“Like what?” He asks, even though he knows. But Jimin wouldn't be Jimin without wanting to get hurt.
“Like…like…gay stuff,” Jungkook looks like he's ashamed to even utter the word, “You need to tone it down, I don't like it. And I'm not gay like you!”
Jimin dry swallows as if something hot and jagged has lodged itself in his throat. He's not a stranger to this feeling of quiet hurt. “I…I'm not…why would you say that?” He breaks because it's too much.
“I don't like boys,” Jungkook declares and it feels like a slap to Jimin’s face, “And I hope you can respect that!” The venom in Jungkook's voice and the look of revulsion on his young face make Jimin hate himself a little more.
How strange, isn't it, that he's crying and yet he can't help but want to comfort the angry, doe-eyed boy standing at the foot of his bed.
“Jungkookie, I do respect that,” He says, “And…I…I'm sorry for being like this…I,” Jimin's sobbing now, the room is dimly lit but he feels as naked as a stripped live wire.
Jungkook cares little for his tears, that much is clear to him. “Just…stay away from me!” He barks, clipped and just so hindered like Jimin is nothing but a thorn in his side. And thorns are only ever broken apart from the stem, cut off and thrown away.
Good thing, Jimin has enough self-respect to remove himself from Jungkook's path for the foreseeable future. He only hoped the Hyungs wouldn't notice the obvious change in their dynamic, and of course, his always swollen and red-rimmed eyes.
Crying in general seemed like such a hassle to Jimin, a waste of time and emotions, but crying in the dim loneliness of his and Hobi's room and having to muffle his sounds into the pillow was a different type of low.
His own identity crisis and raging battles within himself were bad enough, and on top of that, now he had to face Jungkook and pretend he didn't hear the echoes of his stinging words blare in his head like a broken radio every night.
But perhaps, the fault lay with him, ultimately, for being so clingy…so painfully himself. And so he starts distancing himself from Jungkook, stops lingering around him, stops practicing with him, stops hi-fiving him for getting a step right, stops laughing with him and then ruffling his hair, stops eating midnight snacks with him, and stops sleeping with him in the same bed.
Jimin stops being himself, choosing instead to confine himself to the loneliness that came with Jungkook's absence. He preferred exhausting himself, losing himself in the tedious routine of his up and coming idol life in hopes that his self-deprecating thoughts would cease.
That is until one fateful night, Jungkook climbs into his bed again, and just like that, it begins all over again, a long-suffering cycle of heartbreak.
“What is it?” Jimin mumbles sleepily when a pair of strong arms engulf him from behind. He doesn't need to turn to know it's Jungkook. “You miss home?”
Jungkook only hums, pressing his lips to Jimin’s nape. It's a strange sensation, to say the least, gentle…too gentle, and yet it ignites something inside of him. Something that shouldn't be there, something forbidden.
“I'm sorry,” Jungkook’s lips move against his skin, and Jimin shivers, “I'm sorry for..earlier. What I said was…,” Of course, he has no words. He often doesn't but Jimin doesn't mind. Forgiveness comes to him easily when it's Jungkook.
“It's okay, Jungkookie,” He says, knowing he shouldn't be like this, this easy, this accommodating, but Jungkook is wrapped around him and he is gentle and Jimin is lovesick enough to accept his apology. “Hyung forgave you already.”
Jimin doesn't turn, afraid, terrified by their proximity all of a sudden. It never used to be like this, but this is different. Jungkook's intent…seems…different. His touch is…deliberate…and it burns.
“But you're distant.” He complains softly, moves his lips down to Jimin’s shoulder and Jimin should draw away. He needs to draw away, but he's frozen, or perhaps, Jungkook’s grip around his body is too tight.
“It's what you want, isn't it?” It hurts to say that and even worse to hear Jungkook's answer.
“I mean yes,” He says easily, while his hands trace the curve of Jimin’s waist under the blanket. “But I don't like it. I like touching you, and I like when you touch me.”
Should Jimin find comfort in that? He knows he shouldn't, but he does. It’s hard to see reason with Jungkook clad around him like a heavy blanket. So, he does what he always does. He gives in, turns in his arms, and finds something akin to desire gleaming in Jungkook’s dark eyes. He doesn't understand. He doesn't want to.
“Just not on camera, hm?” Jimin teases, hoping the tension between them will dissipate, but Jungkook’s breath is warm and minty against his lips and they’re just so….goddamn close that Jimin’s head spins a bit, though that might’ve also been because he skipped lunch and dinner altogether.
Still, Jimin forgets his hunger when Jungkook’s hooded gaze flits down to his lips and then up at his eyes again. “It could be our secret.” He says and Jimin swallows at the implication.
“Mkay,” He’s quick to agree, whatever that may mean in Jungkook’s mind. It’s a recipe for disaster, a recipe for another heartbreak but Jimin is too drunk on the scent of Jungkook’s aftershave to care.
Jungkook takes the consent and inches closer, pressing his forehead to Jimin’s, and though they’d done this countless times before, the purpose is intrinsically different, the undertones are no longer innocent. Nothing happens, of course. They’re both tired so they just sleep.
For now.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Jimin grows in beauty and grace and Jungkook grows in size. They’re at the peak of their career, and closer than ever. And because they are still young and dumb and a little high on all things golden, and pumping adrenaline after performances, they kiss.
Jungkook doesn't remember how it happened. All he remembers is that he was backstage with the members, he was sweating like a dog, his heart was pounding in his ears, and Jimin was close, rosy from exertion and looking like a fucking dream with those tight-ass pants and a choker around his neck and his slightly smeared makeup.
And Jungkook fucking loses it. He’s horny and warm, and Jimin is cold from sweat and so damn soft, and he’s smaller than him now, his body is lithe and nimble and pale, and a hundred other things that he can’t put into words. So, they go to the bathroom and Jungkook is quick in his ministrations. He cages the older against the door and locks it, and Jimin looks surprised but then Jungkook is touching his waist and pulling him in and he’s really dominant about it and just like that, Jimin goes pliant.
They make out and it's pretty heavy. There is tongue involved and Jungkook discovers how truly fucking glorious it is to kiss his Hyung, who he reminds himself is also a man. The thought should disgust him and it sort of does, but Jimin is just so….fucking beautiful and he’s making all these whimpering sounds, and his waist is small and he’s very docile, so Jungkook forgets all about it and kisses him like there’s no tomorrow.
They’re both rock hard and it’s pretty fucking painful but they don’t talk about it and return to the dorm with swollen lips and at least one hickey each. Of course, nothing good comes out of it when Jungkook jerks off and then feels horrible about the whole thing. He wants to go to Jimin and apologize because he thinks they took it too far, but he’s too much of a coward, so he stews in the crap until he’s horny and thinking about Jimin and his lips again.
It’s a vicious cycle and he hates it.
Jimin also doesn't approach him, and everything between them becomes painfully awkward and charged with tension. If the members notice, which they do, they don’t say anything because this is typical of Jimin and Jungkook. While Jungkook is insanely bothered by this attraction, it's costing him sleep and discipline, and Jimin doesn't make things any easier for him, or more like Jungkook doesn't want things to be easier.
Jungkook decides such thoughts are not nice to have and turns to casual sex, hoping it would fix his fucked up brain, but he keeps thinking about Jimin as he fucks the pretty girl. He tries to focus, she has beautiful eyes, and her lips are painted and pretty but they’re not thick like Jimin’s and she doesn’t moan like Jimin does, and she just….feels wrong. He comes and then he makes her come as well because he's a gentleman, but he doesn’t remember her name.
Jungkook goes back to the dorm feeling unfulfilled and shitty, and to make things worse, no one is home except for Jimin. It’s a little past midnight. Jimin is wearing a very loose shirt, it keeps falling down his shoulder as he cooks ramen, and Jungkook has an inkling that it’s probably his shirt. Something stirs in him, a deep desire to throw caution to the fucking wind, perhaps.
“Oh, you’re back,” He says when he spots Jungkook, “Want some ramen? I made enough for two.” He’s smiling. He’s fucking smiling, while Jungkook is suffering with the worst case of whatever it is he is going through, and it drives him up the wall to see Jimin so….normal about it.
Jungkook power walks to him, causing Jimin to back away, his back hits the sink and his eyes are big and puppy-like as he looks up at the younger with a question. Jungkook doesn't have any answers, but he has this relentless desire to consume so he gropes his ass and presses a hand to his nape to smash their mouths together once again.
Jimin makes a startled noise at the back of his throat but Jungkook presses closer, parting his lips open so he can lick into his mouth. And Jimin gives in, as always, he opens beautifully. His hands clutch Jungkook's front and Jungkook’s hands are all over him. He loves his ass, plump and so gloriously thick. Jungkook has caught himself having more than just a few unholy thoughts about it.
When they part to breathe, Jungkook heaves him onto the side of the sink and Jimin blinks in a daze, thoroughly affected by the younger's strength. Jungkook is hard in his pants, and Jimin is very clearly hard in his shorts but they don’t care. It’s all very intimate and ridiculous, Jungkook wants to die from shame, but he also wants to kiss Jimin again. He leans over intending to ravage him again but Jimin presses both his hands to his chest.
“You know, I'm your Hyung, right?” Jimin says, and he doesn’t sound very Hyung-like. Instead, he’s panting and his lips are parted and his eyes are hooded with clear desire. “You need to stop kissing me like this.”
“But you like it.” Jungkook slides a hand up his thigh boldly, and Jimin’s breath hitches when Jungkook hooks a finger in the band of his shorts.
“That…isn't the point.” Jimin tries to squirm his way out of Jungkook’s grasp but he’s tall and towering and Jimin is very weak in his knees. “You just…came back from…from…,”
“She…wasn't my type,” Jungkook says at once, and he sounds a little like he’s begging.
Jimin huffs, breath a warm puff against Jungkook’s mouth. “And I'm your type?”
Jungkook hums, his forehead goes thump on Jimin’s shoulder. He smells like ramen and vanilla and that somehow turns him on even more. “You would be if you were a girl,” Jungkook confesses and feels a giggle bubble out of Jimin’s chest. “ Would I be your type if I were a girl?”
Jungkook lifts his head and finds Jimin looking at him with a look of….longing, perhaps, or perhaps, Jungkook’s brain is much too fried to decipher his emotions. Jimin shrugs touching Jungkook’s face gently, “You're my type now.”
And Jungkook takes the consent and kisses him again.
It’s exciting, to say the least, this thing between them, all the sneaking around, the stolen glances and intentional touches here and there. They become inseparable, joined at the hip, always together. If you want to find Jungkook, you must look for Jimin and if you want to find Jimin, you must find Jungkook first. It’s ridiculous, but it’s fun and lighthearted. The members start calling Jungkook a clingy guard dog who keeps following Jimin around everywhere, and Jimin isn’t any better. He clings to Jungkook a lot, sits in his lap, acts cute, and bats his eyes at him, and he jumps in his arms and Jungkook holds him in that friendly 'bro way', but they’re not fooling the members.
They sleep in each other’s beds often, they cuddle and make out under the blanket and rub against each other, but they never take it any further. There’s a boundary that both of them are not willing to cross even when they recognize the notes of desire in each other’s eyes. But Jungkook burns brighter in his lusts and Jimin likes being overpowered, he’s sensitive and he’s small, and he drives Jungkook crazy, so Jungkook almost feels his restraint snap sometimes.
He stops, though, because Jimin starts asking questions that Jungkook doesn’t have the answers to. Like, ‘What is this?’, ‘What are we?’, ‘Isn’t this….gay?’ But he’s not weird about it, just curious. Jungkook is curious too, but he’s enjoying this way too much to dwell on these things.
“It’s just kissing,” Jungkook says this one time. He’s lying on his back and Jimin is lying on his stomach beside him, his socked feet are dangling in the air and he’s tracing patterns on Jungkook’s chest. “Kissing is not….gay.”
Jimin giggles at that, because yes, it sounds ridiculous, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s too immersed in memorizing Jimin’s eye smile, and how insanely pretty he looks with dark hair. “Isn’t it, though? A little?” He says, laughing, “We’re both boys.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue and tucks Jimin’s hair behind his ear, “It’s just kissing,” He says, “Besides, kissing you feels like kissing a girl, anyway.”
Jimin only laughs more at that. He’s not bothered, he’s secure and comfortable with his looks as he should be. No matter that it fucks with Jungkook’s head sometimes how attractive he finds Jimin than most girls.
“How so?”
Jungkook shrugs, “Your lips are pretty and you’re soft when I touch you.”
“I’m still a boy!” Jimin half yells incredulously but he’s still laughing in that fond way.
“It’s just kissing,” Jungkook shrugs again, “And you’re a very pretty boy.”
Of course, it doesn’t stay ‘just kissing’ for long. Jungkook knows he’s treading dangerous waters when he unbuckles Jimin’s belt in one of the backstage bathroom stalls after one particularly electrifying performance. It was just supposed to be kissing, but Jungkook feels so fucking hot and bothered and Jimin is wearing that glittery eye makeup that makes him look like an ethereal fairy so he takes that next step and jerks Jimin off while kissing his neck.
He comes with a high-pitched deep moan that he stifles in Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook gets an epiphany and kisses him through it. It’s so fucking dirty and they’re running out of time, so they wrap it up and go back to the dorm where Jimin returns the favor and gives Jungkook the best handjob of his goddamn life.
It starts like this, heated makeout sessions and heavy handjobs, groping hands and muffled moans. And again, it gets out of control because it’s just not enough. Soon, Jungkook finds himself wondering how it would feel like to fuck Jimin. He’s never watched gay porn before but for educational purposes he does. It’s gross and he hates it, but then he looks at Jimin and wants to fuck him so bad he loses his mind a little.
They fuck.
Because, of course, they do.
Jungkook doesn’t remember how the conversation goes, but Jimin agrees. He was shy, this part Jungkook remembers, while confessing that he often fingers himself because it feels good to come with something penetrating him. Jungkook gets so fucking hard, he busts a nut just from hearing Jimin say that.
And before he even knows it, things take a turn for the absolute fucking better, and he has Jimin face down and ass up, mewling like a pornstar as Jungkook fingers him open. He is gorgeous on all fours, and his ass is atrociously thick and he bruises easily, and God, Jungkook feels like he hit the lottery.
Jungkook himself is so much bigger now, because he takes chest and back workouts very seriously and he’s thankful that he does because Jimin seems to like it, he likes feeling soft and small under his weight, and lo and behold, Jungkook finds that fucking Jimin, who is his Hyung, mind you, is so much better than fucking girls. He should be disgusted by himself but he isn’t.
And then things go south.
Jimin comes out to the members.
And though, they are supportive and celebratory, Jungkook feels betrayed.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Jimin has been prone to self-doubt for as long as he can remember. He’s had to kill many parts of himself to fit the idol life and be accepted by society, but he’s grateful now to find a chance to rediscover himself all over again. It’s Jungkook, of course, who’s helped him the most through this journey and though, he doesn’t realize it, he’s a big part of the reason why Jimin decides to come out to the members.
Nothing in their life as idols ever happened on their terms, but this is the narrative Jimin thinks is his own. This is his truth and he wants to share it with the people he trusts and cares about. So, he sits everyone down and comes out. He doesn’t know what he expects, but it isn't acceptance. It isn’t Jin and Namjoon’s ‘We know’, it isn’t Yoongi’s ‘Fucking finally’, it isn’t Hobi’s ‘Oh, Jiminahhhhh, Saranghae’, or Taehyung’s bear hug and Jungkook’s deafening silence and lack of reaction.
Jimin doesn’t understand the strange, unreadable expression that passes across the younger’s face, but he fears the worst. Because worse seems to come between them every once in a while. He doesn’t get the chance to ask him though as he’s whisked away into the festivities of a group dinner. Their generous leader declares that this calls for a celebration and everyone gets with the program pretty quickly.
They’re in the personal booth of their favorite restaurant and it’s a boisterous affair. Taehyung is already a little drunk so there’s no telling the turn this night might take. Jimin tries to focus his energy on them. They’re there for him and they’re happy, and he’s happy that they’re happy, but Jungkook is wearing the hood of his dark jacket even indoors and he’s aloof, and he’s chewing his lips and Jimin can’t focus.
It could be nothing, Jimin reasons. Jungkook is a reserved man, always has been, and he goes nonverbal sometimes to recharge. That’s standard for him. Jimin could just be overthinking. They are okay.
But Jungkook is far from okay. He doesn’t know what about this whole thing is bothering him, but he feels like he’s there with Jimin, out in the open, in the spotlight. He feels…exposed, and he hates it.
“Okay, so off the record, now that the cat’s out of the bag, would any of you sleep with me?" Hobi’s question is met with a series of groans because Hobi, for all his sunshine energy, is probably the straightest member of the group. “Me, personally? I would definitely sleep with Yoongi. Hand of Midas and all.”
Jimin laughs, floored by his drunken bravado. The group erupts in hollers as well because the innuendo is very telling. Yoongi strikes a cool-guy pose, puts on his sunglasses, and gives them a show. He’s drunk, so he would have plenty of time to regret his choices later on.
“I wonder who Yoongi Hyung would sleep.” Taehyung prompts the game of who would sleep with who and the members take the bait. “Who would you fuck?” He says and he’s brazen about it. It’s Taehyung after all and he doesn’t have a verbal filter or any type of filter for that matter.
But Yoongi is a monster when he needs to be, so he grows solemn and arches his brows at Taehyung, “You,” He says, “I would fuck you.” The group roars to life. Hobi is on the floor and Jin’s windshield viper laugh booms across the room.
Taehyung looks shocked at first but then gets into character and burrows into Jimin’s sweater like a shy bride. It’s fucking ridiculous, they’re all fucking children, but Jimin is so happy his cheeks hurt from laughing, and Jungkook just watches him with a flickering light pouring out of his chest.
“I’ll hold you that Yoongi Hyung,” Taehyung winks lewdly at the older man, and because Yoongi is drunk he doesn’t deck Taehyung in the face and only rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, Namjoon Hyung’s turn!” And just like that, all the attention shifts onto Namjoon.
Their leader looks handsome with his slightly buzzed persona, all dimpled and dopey smiles while he prepares to indulge the members. Everyone's eyes are on him but his turn to Jimin. “Jimin,” He says, “It would be Jimin.”
Jungkook blinks, surprised, and then he feels something raw and ugly snap inside him. Namjoon’s gaze is soft and fond, and Jimin laughs as the members shout and scream and hype them both up. Jungkook can so easily tell that he’s shy because he’s very pink and he’s covering his mouth and Jungkook fucking hates it.
“Wait, wait, I have to ask,” Yoongi steps into his god-given role of an MC, and turns to Namjoon with a makeshift mic, “Why Jiminie?”
Namjoon shrugs, “I like small and cute things.”
A wild heat unfurls in Jungkook’s gut, it swallows him whole watching Jimin bask under Namjoon's attention. It’s such a strange thing to feel, heady and intense, so much so that he feels like throwing up. But he swallows and digs his fingernails into his palms. It’s just a game, he thinks.
But then it gets worse.
"Looks like Jungkook-ah has some tough competition, huh." Yoongi drops the bomb very casually in his drunken haze, and Jimin stiffens. The group sobers up and falls silent because this thing between Jimin and Jungkook is so deeply unspoken that even the rapper panics after having said it out loud.
But the arrow has left the bow. Jungkook needs to say something.
And so he does.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He snorts airily, "Just because Jimin Hyung clings to me like a dog, doesn't mean something is going on between us."
Jimin feels his world stop on its axis. His heart constricts and though, it’s nothing new, it’s still painful. The words echo and he blinks and blinks, waiting for the ache to subside but he can’t fucking breathe and it just...hurts so fucking much that he feels absolutely incapacitated. But he’s Park Jimin. He’s heard worse things and survived, so what is another bullet in the armor of his heart?
He pulls himself together and laughs the pain away.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Jin suggests they go out, just the two of them and Jungkook just knows it’s about to be a damning intervention after his colossal fuck-up at dinner last time. He’s miserable and he hates himself already but he agrees because he needs to hear whatever Jin has to say.
The members are doing their utmost to keep the tension at bay by separating them for the time being. Taehyung and Hobi cling to Jimin and never leave him alone when they’re in the dorm, and Seokjin keeps Jungkook at an arm’s and leg’s length from Jimin. Jungkook is not sure how that’s helping, but he keeps himself busy by working on his tattoo sleeve design or working at ungodly hours with Yoongi because if he doesn’t, he’ll lose his mind.
There’s talk about moving out of the dorm and though Jungkook was enthusiastic about the prospect before, he doesn’t participate in those discussions anymore. He’s terrified. There’s already so much distance between him and Jimin, and if they move now, he fears all will be lost forever. He doesn’t want that to happen but he also doesn’t know how to fix what he broke.
“What you did was wrong,” Jin starts and he looks on business. They’re sitting in a private booth to have a late lunch, but Jungkook isn’t hungry—only defeated.
“I know,” Jungkook nods. He could accept at least that.
Jin sighs, and he looks more defeated and bothered than Jungkook feels. He probably doesn’t know how to broach the subject and Jungkook is right there with him. It’s difficult to talk about it without using clear-cut words, and Jin isn’t the one to beat around the bush—they don’t have all day—so he nips it in the bud.
“I know you care about Jimin, maybe more than any of us,” Jin says, “So, why?” His wide shoulders rise and fall in disbelief like he doesn’t understand why Jungkook would say something so insensitive in front of everyone to deflect. Truth is, Jungkook doesn’t understand too.
“What why?” Jungkook shrugs and he knows he sounds like a petulant child, but he has no answer for Jin and even himself.
Jin clicks his tongue and lets out a deep groan. “It’s always like this with you both, Jungkookah!” He complains, “You pull and push him as you please, care about him beyond anything and then you don't. Make it make sense!” Jungkook only stares into his glass of water. Jin tsks irritatedly again. “Look, this tsundere act is not going to take you too far. Everyone has their limits Jungkook, and if you think Jimin is going to stay through all this and wait for you to sort your feelings out then you need to think again."
Jungkook just shrugs. “I don’t have feelings for him,” He declares but he doesn’t believe it himself. His hands shake from the ridiculousness of the lie. Jin notices the tremble and only lets out an amused chuckle.
“Don’t lie to yourself at least,” He snorts but Jungkook can tell he’s angry. "You know, it's okay, right? It's okay to like who you like. It's okay to feel lost because of your emotions but it's not okay to treat Jimin like he's some option that you can explore just because you’re having a late gay awakening.”
Jungkook goes back to the dorm with an unwavering resolve. He’s going to make things right. At least, that’s the plan after Jin’s explosive advice, but he doesn’t find Jimin in the dorm for the next two days. Their timing doesn’t match. It’s a cruel joke of fates, and Jungkook feels like dying.
The stars align after a whole week of pining, and Jungkook begs Hobi to swap rooms with him for one night. Hobi agrees and pats him on the back, he even offers him some words of encouragement but Jungkook is too in his head to hear any of it. He can’t wait to see Jimin, but he’s also terrified because what if Jimin has had enough of him? He paces around his room and thinks himself mad until Hobi shoves a pillow in his chest and kicks him out of the room.
Jungkook stands in front of Jimin’s door for what feels like an hour. He’s fucking shaking and he might’ve also torn the pillow apart by squeezing it too hard. But then he says fuck it and raps on the door and holy shit, he almost runs away again. Jimin opens the door though, and Jungkook freezes. He’s soft and tousled from sleep, and he’s deeply surprised to see Jungkook.
“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Jungkook asks and he’s prepared for rejection because he deserves it. But it’s Jimin. The sweetest, most kindest soul Jungkook has ever known, so the rejection he’s expecting never comes. Instead, Jimin gives him a tight-lipped, sleepy smile and lets him in.
He goes back to lie down without a word, but he leaves space for Jungkook, and Jungkook almost breaks down with relief. He hurries to bed and closes the distance in an instant, wrapping the smaller boy in his embrace tightly. It’s so fucking comforting to press into him again that Jungkook practically cries. The faint scent of Jimin’s vanilla lotion makes his head spin with want and he curses himself. It would’ve been better if he’d have jerked off before coming here, but he doubts it would’ve helped.
Jimin is soft and warm in his arms. He’s wearing his sleep shorts so his round and perky ass is pressing into Jungkook’s crotch. And he lets Jungkook nuzzle into his neck, he lets him touch, slide his large hand down the curve of his waist. He lets Jungkook do anything as he always does, and it drives Jungkook mad, this surrender, his own desire to have and consume Jimin.
“Missed you, missed you so much, missed this,” Jungkook rambles as he rolls his hips, slow and deliberate. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Would Hyung forgive me?” His voice breaks and he’s on the verge of tears but Jimin turns in his arms and hooks a leg over his hip to press close.
“Hyung will always forgive you,” He mumbles and his voice breaks too, “I just…wish you’d stop treating me like an option.” It sounds like a plea, and God, Jungkook hates himself so much. He feels like a fucking asshole.
“I just…I don’t understand it. I’m sorry,” He barely stops himself from crying, but Jimin’s thick and plump lips take his attention. He’s beautiful and freckled barefaced. “I’m figuring it out.”
“Figuring out whether you like me or not?” Jimin smiles and it’s teasing but it’s also a little sad.
“But I do like you,” Jungkook says, “You’re always my number one, Jimin Hyung.” He touches his face tentatively but Jimin urges him on and presses closer so Jungkook throws all caution to the wind and kisses him deep and hard. “Missed this,” He breathes when they part, “Missed kissing you, touching you, you’re so pretty.” He’s rambling again, but Jimin seems to like it. He’s pink from the praise.
“Are you drunk?” Jimin chuckles.
“Honest,” Jungkook rises over him, “And horny.” He adds and Jimin sucks in a sharp breath when Jungkook presses a knee between his legs. He’s hard and his lips part, his waist arches and it’s so goddamn sensual that Jungkook tugs at his shorts, kisses, and bites down his neck while he kicks off his own pants. “You want it?” He asks, and Jimin nods, pink from agony. “Condoms?”
“Bottom drawer.”
Jungkook pulls at Jimin’s flimsy shirt and he’s very authoritative about it. “Off,” He commands and Jimin shuffles to obey, wrestles out of his shirt in record time. The impatience is sexy, this drive to please and appease shines in Jimin, it rouses Jungkook more because Jimin really, really wants it. He takes his time though, steady and slow, with killer foreplay because he can’t get enough of ravaging Jimin’s mouth. His moans are like music to Jungkook, muffled and high-pitched, his best song yet. And he likes it when Jungkook sucks his nipples, makes a mess of precum on his stomach, and fuck, Jungkook is fucking lost. “How do you want it? On your stomach?”
“On top of you,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s heart stops and then sputters to life. “Wanna ride.” He moans and he’s delirious and fucking hell, Jungkook hit the lotto, didn’t he? He quickly goes under and Jimin takes his position on the top, and holy shit, he’s majestic and prettier than anything with his bitten pink nipples and flushed to the high fucking heavens skin.
Jungkook falls in love.
Yeah, he thinks, he’s definitely in love.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
They go steady.
As a group and well, as whatever they are.
Jungkook doesn’t want any labels to define them and it isn’t like they could ever come out as a couple to the world. Hell would probably freeze over. Jimin has no qualms about that, anyway. He’s happy with how things are, but he doesn’t know for how long. In his experience, the other shoe always drops. He should probably put his big boy pants on, that’s how life works, but he sometimes looks at Jungkook and thinks, fuck, I’m in too deep with him.
And it’s terrifying because for all Jungkook is, dominant and bigger than him, insanely Jimin’s type on paper, he’s also young and still figuring out where he stands on the sexuality spectrum. But at the very least, he accepts that whatever they have going on is pretty fucking gay.
So, Jimin takes comfort in that small win.
They move out of the dorm. Months and months of planning finally bears fruit and each member gets their personal space. It’s something they’ve worked very hard for but it’s certainly an adjustment. They’re all so used to living together that a place void of each other feels like a nightmare, but Jungkook becomes a fixture in Jimin’s apartment as he was in his life.
He sleeps over whenever Jimin gets lonely. He cooks. He cleans. He even folds his laundry sometimes and watches stupid romcoms with him. He teaches Jimin how to play difficult chords on the guitar among several other things because he is an ace, the golden maknae, the know-it-all of Bangtan, and it’s all so lovely and tender. It’s the life Jimin wants.
They explore sex on a more intimate level and Jungkook gets considerably good in bed with diligent practice. He fucks like a beast, and Jimin loves this menacing side of him. It serves him well because Jungkook is huge and mean when he’s horny, and Jimin likes getting thrown around and feeling like a ragdoll for his pleasure.
Jimin is the one, after all, who incites these emotions in Jungkook on purpose and Jungkook always takes the bait. He’s hot-blooded like that, with a thirst to prove himself, and he does on the daily. Jimin just has to tie his hair in a ponytail and act cute and Jungkook loses his mind in T-minus sixty seconds. It’s empowering to know the effect he has on the younger.
On the days Jimin feels low and struggles to get things right at work, Jungkook finds some hidden nook and jerks him off, kisses him through it, calls him a good and pretty boy until Jimin’s anxieties clear and he’s able to focus better. But even then it’s a test of restraint and wit to be around Jungkook under the scrutiny of their Hyungs.
No one says anything but they notice and share knowing smiles. And Jimin wants more. He wants certainty, to have and to belong without a shadow of a doubt but he’s content because it’s good. Fulfilling. This unlabelled thing between them. Even though, it bothers him that all their passionate intimacy only ever leads to sex, after which they go back to being bros again.
Jimin hates it, but at least, he gets to have Jungkook this way. He’s figuring it out, anyway, and the last thing Jimin wants is to rush him due to his own insecurities. He can wait, and it isn’t like Jungkook would ever hurt him. They are friends before they are anything. That’s the only label they’ve both agreed to keep forever.
But it all shatters, as all good things do.
Jimin is booked for an overseas schedule, and even before that, they’re both swamped with work. Since moving out, all the members have been busier than ever, either with subunits or solo endeavors, which is fine. It’s only fair. They’re turning a new page in their lives and careers.
But Jungkook’s presence suddenly becomes very scarce. For the most part, Jimin doesn’t mind. He knows the hard and fast idol life and he never faults Jungkook for canceling their plans. Jimin is secure. He’s doing his own thing. He’s okay. At least, that’s what he tells himself when he sends his fifth text message to let Jungkook know about his three-week international schedule.
No matter that his calls and texts sit unanswered and on delivered in the inbox for the complete duration of his stay. Hobi calls to check on him because he does that sometimes when he knows Jimin is suffering in silence. This is the reason he considers Hobi as his best Hyung, but even he doesn’t tell Jimin that his carefully crafted bubble of a whirlwind romance is about to become an open wound.
He finds out when he lands back in Korea and into the private listening party of one of their mutual friends. Of course, he intended to surprise Jungkook with his arrival. He even buys the foreign snacks that the younger liked, hoping he’d come over and they’d finally get to spend time together after this long bout of separation.
But his happiness turns to dust in his mouth when he sees a woman on Jungkook’s arm. Jimin’s smile falters under his mask and a heady anxiety pools in his chest. She looks like a model, and she’s so gorgeous and thin. Jungkook has an arm around her waist and he glances at her now and then. They look good together. It hits Jimin like a brick, a bitter reality. She’s a woman, after all. And Jungkook is not gay.
Of course, Jimin would never be his first choice.
His heart burns at the thought, his eyes water, and his throat closes. He thinks he’s going to break down right then and there because Jungkook looks…strangely content….like he’s happy to have her there with him.
Jimin’s stomach turns. He wants to throw up, but the group spots him and their eyes finally meet. Jungkook looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and all Jimin can think is how much he’s missed him. He feels stupid. Hurt beyond all pains of love and yet, he thinks of Jungkook with tenderness. They’re family before they’re anything, after all, and pain is just pain. It comes and goes. Jimin is used to it.
He’s graceful when he meets her. She gushes about being a fan and Jimin bows and thanks her before taking his leave without sparing even a glance at Jungkook. The members notice because it’s hard not to, but they don’t intervene. Jimin is infinitely thankful because he doesn’t want to cry, but then he finds himself alone in the bathroom and that’s what does him in.
He breaks the fuck down.
He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get it. It doesn’t make sense.
Jungkook finds him, of course. He slams the door closed and he’s breathing heavily but he doesn’t say anything, and suddenly, Jimin regrets not locking the door. He regrets ever coming here. He regrets not leaving at the first glance of Jungkook’s betrayal because his silence speaks volumes. He has nothing to say. He has no excuse, and Jimin thinks if he has come to gloat.
“I thought we were okay,” Jimin breaks the terse silence because he can’t fucking bear it.
Jungkook takes a step forward, but Jimin backs away with a jerk. “We are okay,” He says, raising his hands to placate.
Jimin wipes his face and looks up at Jungkook, and his heart breaks all over again. “Right,” He can’t help but snort, “I forgot you’re not like me. Gay.”
“Jimin,” Jungkook sighs defeatedly and he looks severely pained. He reaches out to Jimin, but Jimin feels like he would never feel clean if Jungkook touched him with the same hand that was resting on that woman’s waist. So, he backs away again. It’s painful, and it’s fucking ridiculous.
And Jimin feels fucking pathetic for crying again, because when has it ever mattered? When has his tears ever had their intended effect on Jungkook? “I was gone three weeks, Jungkook,” He says through sobs, “And you-you found someone else to warm your bed!”
“She didn’t…I mean…warm my bed,” Jungkook puts out a piss-poor defense. He’s desperate to touch Jimin, but Jimin feels…exploited. Fucking finally. “She’s just someone…it’s nothing, I promise!”
“Don’t touch me,” Jimin shouts and steps backward. He feels used. He feels dirty and pathetic.
Jungkook inhales a long breath and steadies himself. He’s looking at Jimin’s shoes and he’s blinking really hard. It’s a telltale sign that he doesn’t know what to say, and when Jungkook doesn’t have anything to say, he usually says something very wrong. It’s a sabotaging habit.
“Don’t act like I cheated on you for fucks sake!” Jungkook grits out low and filthy. It’s downright mean, but Jimin blames himself for giving Jungkook the benefit of the doubt, and the icing on the cake is that he’s still willing to do just that.
“You said…you were figuring it out!” Jimin leans against the sink and cries into his hands because he doesn’t know what else to do except hold onto the flimsy rope of hope that maybe, just maybe Jungkook cared.
“This is me figuring it out, Jimin! I want - I just want to be sure.” Jungkook says, irritated, and Jimin can’t believe his ears. The audacity gobsmacks him in the face, the utter disregard, the lack of empathy for someone you call family, someone you have spent half your life with in a cramped dorm.
“Y-You’re not sure…that you want me?” He asks in a small voice, befuddled. “Still?”
Jungkook makes a face. “Of course, I want you,” He says, but he looks confused himself. He swallows and licks his lips, stalls so he can come up with another genius excuse to keep Jimin. “I just…I need to know what I feel is…real. It’s fucked up, I know. I just,”
“Wow,” Jimin laughs. How stupid of him. How very stupid.
All this time, he thought they were making progress, that he was something to Jungkook now when in reality, Jimin never moved up the ranks, he probably didn’t even make it to the bottom of Jungkook’s list of priorities.
How foolish of Jimin, to have his heart broken for the umpteenth time by the same boy. All this fame, this name, these titles, and accolades–he could have anything in the world, anyone he wanted and here he was, crying in some bathroom, begging to be loved.
But there is more where that came from.
There was much lower to go.
“Don’t fucking act like a jealous clingy girlfriend!” Jungkook snaps. He’s red and he’s seething, his eyes are the darkest they’ve ever been. “Why do you want to fill the void of a woman in my life so bad, huh?” He grimaces as if he’s disgusted by the sight of Jimin.
“Pardon?” Jimin gapes. He expected everything, every insult, but this cut deeper than every slur he’d ever been called on the internet.
“You heard me.” Jungkook maintains. There is no regret in his eyes, yet. There never would be, but how crazy that Jimin still searches for it. Another reason to stay.
“Loud and clear,” Jimin nods with a tight-lipped, shaky smile. “Goodbye, Jungkook.”
And just like that, what never began came to an end.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Regret rears its ugly head because it always does. Jungkook’s golden maknae image is at stake because he can’t stop acting like a lovelorn, jilted Romeo. Piercings, tattoos, drinking in his weight, and having one too many girlfriends is one thing, but becoming a damn recluse with no desire to partake in anything is a recipe for disaster.
It’s bad for the group, and even badder for business, and he doesn’t want his Hyungs or their group dynamic to take a hit so he bites the bullet, works on some music, and releases it. For the sake of keeping up appearances, Jimin shares it on social media but as always, his words of praise sound too much like himself, too pure, too genuine, too Jimine Hyung–Jungkook’s number 1.
Next thing he knows, he’s having a full-blown mental breakdown in Yoongi’s studio, because it hits him like a brick that he hadn’t heard Jimin’s voice in what felt like years. The weight of that realization crushes him, and it all comes back, his own words are an echo in his mind, and he can only imagine how Jimin must’ve felt, how he must’ve ached to hear such words from someone who was supposed to be… family.
Jungkook beats himself up all night. Works himself to the bone with tears in his eyes. But it’s not enough. Jimin avoids him like the plague, and they very conveniently cease all group activities for the foreseeable future, but Jungkook thinks he would break into hives if he didn’t see Jimin.
Their leader intervenes this time which is a blaring alarm in itself. Jin sits back and only looks tired, while some old jealousy reawakens in Jungkook when Namjoon strictly forbids him from reaching out to Jimin. The wound is still raw, he says, and Jimin needs space, but Jungkook has an epiphany on the spot and decides that he cannot lose Jimin.
Jin unhelpfully points out that he already has.
But Jungkook is not going to listen to him.
He finds himself under Jimin’s building the same night, dilly-dallying like a masked stalker, and smoking like a chimney by the benches. He’s trying to build up the courage to go up but it’s positively nerve-wracking, tobacco is not working, he needs a stronger drug to face his shame.
But he nips it in the bud because this is his fault and he deserves to feel shit about himself for doing what he did. As far as apologies go, this may be Jungkook’s most worthless, half-assed attempt at remorse. The flimsy bouquet he’s holding feels pathetic and light in his hands, and Jimin certainly deserves more than just some pink flowers and takeout dinner to even think about forgiving Jungkook.
Jungkook rings the bell and he waits. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. And then the door opens and his heart almost detonates from the anticipation of the rejection that probably awaited him. Jimin has every right to kick him out and even call the security on him.
But it’s Jimin. So, he just stands there, looking beautiful and shocked. Jungkook probably looks ridiculous. He’s clad in all black to avoid being recognized, but Jimin recognizes him. Because it’s Jimin, and Jimin has seen him in all his sorry states.
“I brought dinner,” He says pathetically, “And flowers.”
Jimin sighs. He looks tired, but also very bright and gorgeous in his homey clothes. Jungkook sighs too, because, oh, how he’s longed for this sight. Despite what Jungkook expects, Jimin lets him in.
“You didn’t have to,” He says, closing the door after him and walking past Jungkook toward the living room. “I already had dinner.” There’s an edge of cold in his voice, but his eyes droop in that tender way that Jungkook loves so much.
He’s tired of Jungkook. It’s clear. He’s tired of letting him in again and again, and yet he always does.
“You did?” Jungkook places the flowers and the takeout on the counter and removes his jacket. There’s not much to say. He didn’t prepare a grand apology. He should’ve. Because now it’s just awkward.
Jimin stands at a distance with his arms crossed. He’s wearing his sleep shorts and a loose sweatshirt. His hair is messy and silverish blue, and his skin is rosy and pale. He’s insanely gorgeous is what Jungkook thinks because his brain capacity is maxed. So, he just watches Jimin, watches what he’s lost, perhaps for good this time. And he waits for Jimin to say something.
“Yeah,” Jimin nods, “A while ago.” It takes Jungkook a minute to realize he’s talking about dinner. Jungkook nods too. But then the silence comes back and it's empty and full at the same time–quiet and deafening.
“I broke up with her,” Jungkook starts. He’s at the verge, his hands are trembling but screw it. Jimin deserves to know. “I um…met her at the gym. It was random.” A flash of hurt passes over Jimin’s beautiful face, he grows tense and he blinks his eyes a couple of times. “I hurt you. I know. I have…no excuse left to give. I thought that…one day…I would grow as brave as you, but I…feared…judgment. I saw what it did to you.”
“And you didn’t want to be like me,” Jimin says, smiling, but his voice breaks. Tears well up in his beautiful eyes and fuck, Jungkook desperately wants to go to him, but he knows it’s not allowed anymore.
“I wanted to be exactly like you. Kind and warm,” Jungkook tells him, “But instead I’m this….selfish and unworthy of your love. But I just….I can’t….I thought it would work.” He exhales a shaky breath, trying his best not to break down, but Jimin is already crying. What had he to lose? He lets go. “I thought that if I tried hard enough…I could be…not myself. But I…I kept trying to find you in her.”
“Is that - Is that supposed to make me feel…better?” Jimin’s face morphs into a sad scowl. “I was there, always, and I…I was ready to wait for you.”
Jungkook goes to him. He can’t bear it anymore. “Jimin,” He calls softly, “Jiminah,” And sweet Jimin lets him in once again. He lets Jungkook into his space, lets him touch, and hold. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jungkook breathes, cupping Jimin’s small face in his big hands.
“No, I’m sorry,” Jimin shakes his head. A moment of silence stretches between them. Jimin’s lips part and he raises a hand to touch Jungkook’s cheek, and touch starved Jungkook is a kid again, longing for home, for Busan whose scent he found in Seoul. "I've loved you for so long, I lost myself in the ecstasy." Jungkook blinks, feeling his heart soar like a hawk, like a weightless feather floating in space but Jimin is still crying, Jimin is still hurt and Jungkook is still frozen in some deep-rooted fear, still afraid and unwilling. "I love you,' Jimin repeats but it is the finality in his tone that breaks Jungkook. He rises on his tiptoes and presses his lips to Jungkook’s nose. "I love you,” He breathes, “And I'm letting you go."
This is all it takes.
This is all it takes for Jungkook's confusion to melt into crisp realization. All this time Jimin loved him. And well, Jungkook loved him too.
And oh how brutal, that Seokjin’s words hold true. That it was indeed too late.
"Jimin, please," Jungkook begs, holding his hands tightly when Jimin tries to pry them away.
"I'm sorry, I thought I could love you in silence, forever." He sobs, and Jungkook does the only thing he can do, he presses Jimin's small body into his chest and sobs with him. "I promise I will stop. I have to. I should have." Jungkook buries his face in Jimin's hair, filling his lungs with the lilac-scented shampoo Jimin favors because he knows this is the last time. There will never be another moment like this. "Do you hate me?" Jimin looks up, droopy eyes wide and fearful and so red-rimmed.
"No," Jungkook says, aching to confess that he could never. That he would much rather hate himself than hate Jimin. That he loves him, to the point of no return, to the moon and back where they had promised to go together - but it is much too late. "You're still my no. 1, Jimin Hyung. You always will be and I'm sorry for everything. You did not deserve what I put you through, and I hate myself for it."
Jungkook pours his heart out, apology after apology. Reminiscent of old memories together, two normal boys from Busan connected through destiny and dreams. Jungkook thinks he was a fool to ever be confused. Now as his eyelids feel heavy with oncoming slumber with Jimin's comforting weight on his chest, his life flashes in front of his eyes, like this moment was the death of something beautiful. It’s filled with all things Jimin, the young, cherubic-faced boy who laughed with his whole body, whose eyes turned into crescents and spoke of playful mysteries.
In a way, it was the end of Jungkook and Jimin before it had even begun. A regret that the younger would carry for years and years to come. Jimin would be there, always within reach and in front of his eyes but the invisible wall of spikes would always separate them. A punishment that Jungkook thinks is befitting of his crime.
When dawn arrives with the hopeful chirps of sparrows and cicadas, Jimin is long gone. It is cold now where he had laid, warmth all gone from his arms, from Jimin's side of the bed, from the room, from the house.
Perhaps, this was love.
Close, but unattainable.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Time passes. It hurts, but the pain ebbs. Things settle, but Jungkook’s feelings don’t.
They’re at a point as a group where everyone focuses on their solo careers, putting out hit after hit, smashing record after record. Jungkook is especially doing well, he’s putting on a good show, but in reality, the wound is fresher than ever, the pain of losing Jimin and the bond they shared is ever-present.
It never stops hurting, no matter how much he fucks and drinks through the glories of his golden life. The shadow of Jimin’s absence burns like a ball of fire, and Jungkook thinks he’s Icarus, the man who flew too close to the sun. But it wasn’t the sun’s fault that he burned, it was his own.
Jimin is always there, though. He’s even prettier, more comfortable in his skin. Secure in his femininity and masculinity both. Jungkook watches his promotional interviews and variety shows religiously. He laughs through them, and then he cries because it’s all…just gone.
They never see each other after that night, but Jimin always supports Jungkook’s works on his socials and Jungkook has no choice but to take comfort in those little interactions, he sleeps easy on the nights Jimin posts. He’s reduced to a lovelorn fan, and he has no one but himself to blame.
Jungkook thinks with time he’d grow formidable enough in the face of his loneliness, that he would tackle the pain of an existence where Jimin isn’t a fixture in his life, but as always, pain given is pain returned tenfold.
He learns that the hard way.
There’s lower to go, one more hit to take for a love lost.
They meet again, the same terrible way they had once parted.
There’s a lady on Jungkook’s arm yet again for appearance's sake, and Jimin arrives. Bangtan is complete, gathered under one roof together after a long, long time. It’s a yet another listening party, and Hobi is their host this time. Of course, Jimin would come. Hobi is always number one to him, there is no way he was going to miss it, even when it meant being in the same room as Jungkook and his new fling.
Jungkook blinks as the group comes alive with cheers and laughter. Taehyung and Hobi engulf him, urging the rest of the group to join in, but Jungkook’s heart is pounding and he suddenly feels too tipsy from champagne.
Jimin laughs, his giggles are muffled because Taehyung and Hobi refuse to let him go. But when they do, Jungkook comes face to face with the bane of his existence. He feels his heart stop for a beat, then it drops into his stomach when Jimin’s face falls for a moment, and his eyes droop in that sad way that Jungkook is so well-versed in.
But then he smiles and it's genuine, because he’s Jimin, and they’re…..family. He acknowledges Jungkook with a soft nod and introduces himself to a yet another woman on his arm with all things grace and elegance.
And Jungkook can’t help but gawk at him. Jimin practically glows, like he’s surrounded by a bright beam of happiness. He’s beautifully rosy as always, but the cold makes him downright ethereal. Jungkook could just eat him, he looks so fucking soft and delicate in his beret hat and that fuzzy sweater that’s too big on him and doesn’t look like his own. His dark hair are blonde now and slightly longer.
It’s not fair. Jungkook thinks. It’s not fucking fair.
Jimin mingles and talks to everyone. He laughs and dances to Hobi’s new song, and not even once does he look at Jungkook with longing. But Jungkook longs, he yearns, his heart fucking eats itself, because oh, how could he have lost something so pure?
Then Ian comes.
And it all comes to a head.
Jungkook’s world fucking shatters when the other man snakes an arm around Jimin’s waist in that very telling way. It makes his stomach fucking twist when Jimin doesn’t push him away.
No one from the members bat even an eye. They greet Ian and welcome him to sit at their table and sit he does, right beside Jimin. There’s that air of romance between them that’s so suffocatingly…just there, and no one fucking says anything. Jungkook wants to throw up. He feels sick to his stomach.
Perhaps, it’s the wine, he thinks, but it’s Ian’s hand perpetually glued to Jimin’s thigh under the table. It’s the way Jimin makes himself small beside him, because Jungkook knows for a fact that he likes his men bigger than him, and Ian is big, he’s older, he’s handsome, there’s a rugged charm he carries, in his dark eyes and tattoos, in his mysterious and meloncholic songs, and yet his eyes soften when he looks at Jimin. There’s no mistaking his tenderness.
It’s all so….out in the open. Still new. But not in an uncertain way.
“Let go,” Jin says to him airily.
“What if I can’t?” Jungkook grits out, almost crushing the glass he’s nursing.
“You don’t have a choice,” Jin snorts because he cares, but he’s also very mean about it.
“I’ll win him back,” Jungkook says but he knows he’s talking out of his ass. It’s the hot-blooded youth speaking, but he doesn’t feel so hot-blooded with Jimin laughing with his whole body at something Hobi says and with Ian’s hand hovering at his back protectively, to probably save him from falling. It disgusts Jungkook to no end, to know that someone else knows Jimin like he does.
“Oh, Jungkookie,” Jin heaves a dramatic, drunk and pitiful sigh, “It’s too late.”
And he's right.
A little towards the end of the night, Jungkook finds Jimin alone at the balcony, soaking in the moonlight. Jimin might seem like an extroverted social butterfly, but Jungkook knows it exhausts him. He wonders if Ian knows this, if he sees through the many masks Jimin often wears.
But right now he stands bare of all facades under the glowing moon.
They’re alone. It feels wrong. Jungkook feels undeserving and unworthy, but a conversation hangs heavy, closure, perhaps. But Jimin isn’t…awkward about it. He smiles at Jungkook, and its a very…casual smile. It fucking stings. Jungkook is also a little drunk, so he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by saying something weird.
Jimin is leaning over the railing, one hand pressed to his cheek. He is….comfortable but Jungkook is plagued by guilt and regret and a hundred other emotions he can’t name. It’s so….ridiculous, though. So fucking ridiculous that it’s almost funny. A beautiful woman waits for him outside, mind you, one he can’t remember the name of now, and here he is, in love with his bandmate at the eve of too-fucking-late.
“So, Ian,” Jungkook leans at the railing too, looking far out into the night.
Jimin turns his head and so does Jungkook, there’s that mischievous smile curling at his lips. “Yeah,” He sighs, and Jungkook swallows the ball of fire lodged in his throat.
“You look good,” He says pathetically, “Happy.”
“I am, thank you,” Jimin says, no biting mockery behind his words. “And you?” He gestures inside, “She looks like a pretty good lady, and I think she cares about you.”
“It’s…you know, it’s just for show,” Jungkook manages, “How long has it been?” He shouldn’t, but he asks, because he can’t let go. He has to know he lost, and it’s for good this time. He needs to absolutely be sure.
Jimin hums, thinking, “A little over 5 months?” He answers, easily.
Jungkook snorts, its bitter like his pain. “You moved on fast, huh?” He mutters without thinking, because Jungkook is self-sabotaging like that, he does many things without thinking. The regret is instant, of course, but Jimin only chuckles. He doesn’t sound like he’s bothered by Jungkook’s terse words, rather he’s used to it.
“I moved on too late,” He snorts, and now that’s a wakeup call right there. Jungkook nods, he opens his mouth to say sorry, but Jimin waves a hand, “If you’re going to apologize, don’t. You’re forgiven.” Jimin shrugs. “We were….young. And we had a lot going on.”
“Don’t make excuses for me,” Jungkook spats, angry at Jimin’s nonchalance and disregard. “I wish…I wish I could change it. I wish I could change it all. Don’t you miss it?” He pleads, and Jimin breaks a little. “Are you not me and I am you?”
Jimin swallows, and it cools Jungkook’s heart, to see the waver in his bearings, to see his thick lips wobble, and to know that he’s effected. “We could’ve been.”
“We could be,” Jungkook inches closer, but Jimin backs away with a shake of his head. “If you…if you just give me another chance. I swear, I’ve figured it out.” Jimin chuckles, but there are tears in his eyes. Jungkook knows he sounds insane, there’s a woman waiting for him back inside, for fucks sake! How could he even claim to have figured it out? But he’s desperate. He’s so fucking desperate to touch Jimin.
“I can’t,” Jimin sniffles, wiping at his eyes, “Ian is…,”
“Do you love him?”
Jimin looks up, eyes red-rimmed and little button nose pink and cheeks rosier than ever. And Jungkook just wants to touch, he just wants to be allowed one last touch, but that’s asking too much.
“I don’t know,” Jimin frowns, “I think I can, though. He makes me…very happy.” He tells Jungkook, “He…doesn’t think of me as someone whose trying to fill the void of a woman in his life.”
Ouch. Fucking ouch.
“Jimin,” Jungkook begs, for what? He doesn’t know, but he begs. Jimin shakes his head, wistfully beautiful, like an unattainable dream.
“We’re private, but I’m not his secret, Jungkook,” Jimin says, “He treats me with a gentleness all lovers deserve to be treated with….regardless of their gender. And..he…he doesn’t leave me hanging after a fight, doesn’t ignore me, or gives me the cold shoulder, doesn’t climb in my bed at night and kisses me only to go back to being a stranger in the morning.”
Jungkook listens and nods, urges Jimin on, because he deserves the pain. He deserves to know all the ways he couldn’t love Jimin, all the ways another man does now. “What does he do?”
Jimin hums, framing his face between his small hands. “He’s gentle and soft-spoken. Always comes back and apologizes. Brings me flowers even when I tell him I’m not a girl.” He giggles, and it’s fucking beautiful. “We’re nothing alike, but it works for us, because we make it. It’s the little things.”
“Right,” Jungkook huffs, “I’m not jealous at all.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Jimin shrugs, “You were always me, but I think I was never you.” It cuts deep, but he’s right. “But you’ll always be my Jungkookie,” He acts cute to lighten the grim mood, and Jungkook breaks into a smile for his sake, but he feels like he’d never recover from this. “I’ll always forgive you.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin says, “It’s yours. Take it or leave it.”
A loud knock takes them out of the moment. Hobi peers inside the balcony and looks between them. “If you jilted lovers are done, Ian’s looking for you.”
“Thanks, Hobi Hyung,” Jimin laughs, “We’re just about done.”
And they were. Done.
They walk out of the balcony side by side, shoulders brushing and fingers touching, but there’s no underlying meaning to it, no hidden significance. They’re just bandmates, two friends from the same walk of life, same city, same interests. But Jungkook realizes being dead similar to someone doesn’t always mean things will last.
Opposites attract too, after all.
Ian and Jimin are proof.
His eyes light up when he sees Jimin walking over to him. The members are gathered around, probably to end the night and say goodbye. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Ian opens his arms dramatically, and the surprise is that Jimin goes to his side with a giddy excitement, lets himself be held and squeezed. “Who’d you leave me for?”
“It was just Jungkookie, Hyung,”
Just Jungkookie.
Jungkook almost laughs at that. He could’ve had it all, and now, he is reduced to being just Jungkookie forever. What they say must be right, that you don’t come back from some mistakes, and besides, Jungkook was too far gone anyway.
Taehyung and Hobi coo at them, Yoongi is obviously grimacing, but Namjoon and Jin have a tender look of adoration on their faces which then turns into pity when they turn to Jungkook. Jungkook gives a tight-lipped smile and accepts their concern. Mostly, he’s floored at Ian’s unapologetic candor, to show affection and care so openly even amongst friends.
But Jungkook can see why they work. Ian is not confined to societal expectations, and he makes Jimin feel comfortable and safe enough to be truly himself even out in the open. Jungkook doesn’t know much about Ian to cast any judgements, but it’s very clear that he’s very taken with Jimin, enough that it shows in his dark eyes.
“Thank you for inviting me, it was a lovely evening and it was really nice meeting you all so casually,” Ian says to Hobi, one hand pressed to his chest and the other hovering at the small of Jimin’s back.
“I hope we can do it again soon,” Namjoon proposes, and everyone lets their assent know with loud shouts of excitement.
“Why don’t we invite them over for dinner at our place?” Ian asks teasingly, and the loud shouts of excitement turn louder still.
“Our place?” Jin shrieks, “Did you guys move in together already?!”
Hobi gasps. “Don’t tell me you guys got married in Thailand!?”
Ian is laughing but Jimin elbows him in the rib, rolling his eyes with a dramatic flair. “He’s joking.”
“I got a place near him,” Ian concedes, a little pink in his ears, “We were thinking about doing a little housewarming next month once our schedule clears. Right, Park Filter?” Jimin rolls his eyes and punches him in the side again.
Jungkook can’t help his own smile. Sure, it breaks his heart, he feels gutted and raw, but Jimin’s delight always was contagious. Jungkook takes comfort in the fact that at least one of them is happy, and better Jimin than him.
Maybe in a few years, he will heal, and his heart will no longer ache at Jimin’s name, but now as Jimin says his goodbyes to the members with Ian patiently waiting by his side, Jungkook thinks he will never recover from this loss.
There’s a moment where Jimin turns to catch Jungkook’s eye by way of gentle farewell, and for a split second, they’re boys again, fighting for that last bite of pizza, for an early spot in the shower, for any and everything, and then at night, Jungkook is a kid who misses Busan, and well, Jimin is Busan.
His home away from home. His Busan in Seoul.
Perhaps, in another life, this oath would have been theirs to keep:
You are me, I am you.
But in this one, they are echoes of what could’ve been. Almost always, never enough.
Maybe one day, Jungkook will write a song about it— about love that slipped through his fingers, about the one he lost before he understood. And when he sings it, it will sound like a love song, but he’ll know it’s a requiem.