Archive of Our Own

“What is the purpose of chihuahuas? Like, why do they even exist?” Seokjin asks, draining the rest of his gin and tonic with a long swallow. “What is the point?”

Jungkook laughs, his cheeks a little rosy from the few beers he’s had. They’re nearly shouting to be heard over the loud din of the crowd in the packed bar. “Some people love them, okay? I know they’re not for everybody, but believe it or not, I’ve met some sweet ones. They can definitely be, um… yippy, though.”

Seokjin scoffs. “I’m sure they’re tolerable once you’ve knocked them out for surgery or something. No wonder you think they’re fine. I bet they’re perfectly pleasant once they’re unconscious.” 

“That’s a little harsh, Jinnie,” Namjoon says, choking back a laugh. Yoongi and Hoseok glance at each other with twinkling eyes and exchange a knowing look: Here comes drunk Seokjin and his uncanny ability to offend everyone in 3, 2, 1…

“I just don’t understand tiny dogs in general,” Seokjin says flatly. “Why haven’t they gone extinct? What is their value? Why are we intervening to keep them alive?”

That captures Taehyung’s attention from across the booth, and he cuts himself away from his conversation with Jimin to stare at Seokjin with his mouth hanging open. “How dare you speak that way about my precious baby—”

Seokjin throws up his hands. “I’m not talking about Yeontan. He’s gained quite a bit of weight recently, if you haven’t noticed. Calling him a tiny dog would be a stretch.”

Taehyung reaches over and flicks Seokjin’s forehead with his thumb and index finger, earning a surprised yelp. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he tells Seokjin, letting out a dramatic sigh before turning back to Jimin with a look on his face that clearly communicates: What the hell are we going to do with him?

Jimin just shakes his head and laughs, taking another sip of his red wine and running a hand through his hair in faux exasperation.

It’s either his third or fourth glass—by this point, he can’t really remember. It’s rare that all seven of them have the opportunity to get together like this, and when they do, they have a tendency to let loose completely, just like old times. And letting loose—well, that’s exactly what they’re doing.

Seokjin completely loses his brain-to-mouth filter when he’s tipsy, and after a few drinks, he’ll thoughtlessly blurt out whatever string of words comes to mind. This has gotten him into more than a little bit of trouble over the years. 

Each of them has a trademark quirk or habit that creeps out after they’ve been drinking, actually, and those are all coming out in full force this evening. Jimin gets so flirty that his friends have to supervise him carefully, and he’ll always scoff and insist he’s not flirting!—even as his jacket slips down to expose a bare shoulder and he’s batting his eyelashes at everyone who passes by. 

Taehyung becomes quiet and stoic, happy to sit and silently observe everyone else as they have a good time. Jungkook, who’s usually pretty introverted, transforms into a giggly, outspoken, smiling ray of sunshine who laughs too loudly at every joke. Namjoon somehow gets even more cerebral, eager to start a debate over whatever ridiculously obscure concept he’s been obsessed with that particular week. His debate partners are only sometimes willing.

As for Yoongi and Hoseok, they stick together like glue when they’re drinking, tag-teaming in their efforts to ignore everyone else’s unhinged, drunken shenanigans, doing their best to carry on a normal conversation.

“It’s nice to have everyone here,” Tae says quietly to Jimin, leaning his mouth towards Jimin’s ear. It’s difficult to hear him over the loud and musical sound of Jungkook cackling over something Namjoon’s just said. “How long has it been? A month? Two?”

“Something like that,” Jimin agrees with a nod, crossing his legs under the table as he scoots in closer to Tae in order to hear him better. “It always feels like I just saw you guys yesterday, though.”

All seven of them attended the same university, and they were inseparable during their overlapping time in school. Although their careers took them down wildly different paths in life, they all ultimately ended up staying in Seoul, which really was quite a miracle, as far as the odds of maintaining adult friendships were concerned. Namjoon had temporarily left for a few years while he was still working as a reporter, but now he’s writing books instead, and he’s settled back down in the city.

Between the seven bodies squished together in this tiny booth, there’s enough intelligence and drive to overthrow an entire government, probably. Taehyung’s a free-spirited artist, quite famous in Korea, often referred to as a national treasure. Seokjin and Jimin are both university professors—Seokjin teaches history, and Jimin teaches marketing. Namjoon recently published his first novel to critical acclaim. Hoseok is a professional dancer, and Yoongi is a renowned music producer. Jungkook is a veterinarian at a local animal clinic.

With work keeping them all busy and schedules that often conflict, it can be difficult to find a mutually agreeable time that works for all seven of them to hang out. Seokjin frequently teaches night classes, and Namjoon prefers to write at night, which can make evenings difficult to coordinate. But Jimin cherishes whatever time they’re able to spend together, and despite all the years that have passed since they were in school and saw each other every day, catching up like this always feels effortless. 

There wasn’t any particular occasion for them to hang out tonight. Usually they’d try extra-hard to make it work if it was somebody’s birthday, or if one of them was celebrating something—a promotion, a new gig, a big show. But this evening was a rare and miraculous occasion: they’d made the effort, simply because it was important to them.

The bar is packed and hazy and full of rowdy, drunken groups of friends. It’s not necessarily the place Jimin would have picked, had he been the one to choose. He prefers to actually be able to hear his friends during these rare opportunities to catch up, rather than being forced to shout over the drone of everyone’s intoxicated yelling. But once everyone gets a few drinks in them, no one seems to mind—the volume of their conversation increases gradually, the way it tends to do, with no one really noticing as it happens.

“I saw a cat with no ears today,” Jungkook announces loudly to no one in particular.

Everyone turns to gawk at him. “What?”

He nods, licking beer foam off his bottom lip. “He lost them both when he was a kitten, apparently. It’s pretty typical for me to see cats with part of their ear missing, or maybe even one whole ear missing. But both gone… that is, um, a sight.”

“Do you have a picture? Please tell me you have a picture,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, but just imagine, like, if an otter and a cat had a baby. An otter-cat. Honestly, it’s much cuter than you would think.”

“Wait. Have you seen the otter and cat on YouTube? The ones who’re best friends?” Namjoon asks from across the booth, setting down his martini.

Jimin practically squeaks. “What?”

“I’d expect you, of all people, to know what I’m talking about. You don’t know Sakura the otter?” Namjoon asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He looks around the table, and everyone just stares back at him silently. “None of you know Sakura the otter?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at him. “Since when do you watch cute animal videos on YouTube?”

Namjoon doesn’t answer, taking a gulp of his drink. Jimin thinks he might even be blushing a bit, but it’s probably just the alcohol taking its toll. 

“We all have our vices,” Namjoon mumbles, crossing his arms. 

“I’d love it if my vices were as innocent and harmless as that one,” Yoongi says, reaching over to ruffle Namjoon’s hair. “I swear, you are the most adorable person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not adorable!”

“You are very adorable,” Taehyung pipes up from across the table, a hiccup tacked on the end. 

“Most adorable out of all of us, probably,” Hoseok agrees with a noncommittal shrug. 

“What? Stop!” Namjoon’s eyes go wide. He looks horrified.

Jimin dissolves into a fit of laughter, head falling onto Tae’s shoulder for a moment. He loves these silly people so, so much.

Each one of them is special to Jimin for vastly different reasons. They’ve formed an inseparable group, sure, but Jimin values his individual bond with each of them more than anything. 

Namjoon and Seokjin have both filled a similar role in Jimin’s life: doting older brothers who are way too eager to dish out life advice, always willing to listen to Jimin vent about anything at all, no matter how insignificant. 

Hoseok is the sparkling ray of sunshine who never fails to cheer Jimin up if he’s going through a tough time, a supportive and optimistic friend who has helped carry Jimin through some of the most difficult parts of his life.

Yoongi acts like Jimin’s stern uncle, but he’s not-so-secretly soft for him, bending over backwards to help him over the years whenever he’s been afforded the chance. Jimin even crashed on his couch for a few weeks once, many years ago, when he had nowhere else to go.

Taehyung and Jimin are the same age, and they instantly felt an unwavering connection from the very first day they met, sitting down next to each other in a film class by sheer coincidence. Taehyung has always joked that they can communicate without speaking, but it’s not really a joke. They’re practically telepathic at this point. 

And that leaves Jungkook. 

Jimin steals a glance at him, grinning widely over his mostly-empty glass of beer. 

Jungkook is Jimin’s best friend in the entire world. His most important, irreplaceable person.

They’ve been attached at the hip for the past eight years, their friendship a lifeline through every phase of adulthood: university, navigating the world young and scared after graduation, juggling a million responsibilities while Jungkook was in vet school and Jimin was getting his MBA while working full-time. 

Their circumstances have changed over and over, but their friendship has not. In the chaos of life, the unpredictability of the world, no matter how scary or uncertain things become, there is one thing Jimin has always been able to rely on: Jungkook is there for him. No matter what. 

He’s a constant. He’s Jimin’s strength, Jimin’s safe place. 

However, there is one tiny, slightly problematic detail about their friendship that Jungkook isn’t exactly aware of—which is that Jimin is hopelessly and desperately in love with him.

Yeah. Yikes.

This isn’t a new development or anything. Jimin has felt this way for as long as he can remember—six years? Seven years? He’s not sure. By the time Jimin fully realized how he felt, Jungkook was already a permanent fixture in his life, the most valuable friend he had. 

Jungkook was so young, then, and he never showed any indication that he might feel the same way, so Jimin pushed it aside from the beginning. It quickly became clear to Jimin just how important it was for him to keep Jungkook around—vital, really, in a way he couldn’t even fully explain to himself—so the thought of potentially making things awkward and losing his friendship entirely was a risk that Jimin wasn’t willing to take.

As they got older, Jimin’s feelings shifted and morphed in a way he didn’t expect. It really started out as a harmless crush and nothing more—one that consumed his brain, sure, but it was light and fluffy, and he could brush it aside if he really tried hard enough.

But as the years passed by, that crush matured into something bigger, something overpowering. It transformed into an all-consuming love that took up all the space in Jimin’s heart.

That was a lot more difficult for him to ignore.

But for the sake of keeping Jungkook around—combined with the paralyzing fear of losing him altogether—Jimin has spent all this time loving him in silence, a weight so heavy that sometimes it feels like it’ll crush his chest. 

But in the end, he still has Jungkook by his side, so it’s fine.

It has to be.

Jimin glances over at Jungkook again, who’s sitting next to Namjoon on the other side of the booth. He’s talking to Seokjin, hands waving animatedly. It seems the conversation has somehow backpedalled to Seokjin’s chihuahua rant, and Jungkook is now trying to explain the importance of all dogs to human society. 

He’d come straight from work, so he’s still wearing his scrubs. They’re navy blue and tightly fitted across his chest and arms, straining against his muscles as his arms flail around. Seokjin makes a comment under his breath that Jimin can’t quite catch, and Jungkook bursts into another fit of laughter. The sound is musical and contagious and one of Jimin’s favorite things in the entire world.

“Hey, listen up,” Taehyung announces loudly, meaningfully raising his voice and tapping on his glass to get everyone’s attention. “I know this is super last-minute notice, but I found out I’m actually being included in that gallery opening tomorrow night—the one I thought was gonna fall through. Can any of you come? Please? I need someone to shoot the shit with. You know how much I hate these things.”

“Ah, Taehyungie, I would never desert you in your time of need,” Seokjin says, a little louder than is probably appropriate, waving his cocktail glass around perilously. “Also, since when do I ever have plans on Friday night? I have no social life whatsoever. You already know this.”

Taehyung smiles, reaching over and gently pushing Seokjin’s hand (and glass) back down towards the table. 

“I can probably make it, too,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I have a lot of writing I need to get done tomorrow, but as long as I can manage to finish it on time, I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook chimes in quietly. A lock of long blonde hair falls down onto his forehead as he turns to look at Taehyung. “I thought it wasn’t happening anymore, so I made other plans. I can cancel, though, if it’s really important—”

“What? No!” Taehyung cuts him off, raising a hand. “You don’t need to cancel your plans. Are you hanging out with Jimin?” He glances over at Jimin, and Jimin just shakes his head.

“No. I actually… um.” Jungkook pauses for a second. He looks kind of nervous. Taehyung raises an eyebrow suspiciously. 

There’s a moment of confusing silence.

“Are you finally going to get your mysterious rash checked out?” Yoongi deadpans.

That breaks the tension. Seokjin is thoroughly amused, slapping the table and wheezing out his windshield-wiper laugh.

“I hate you,” Jungkook says sweetly. “No. I’m… going on a date, actually.”

Jimin chokes on his wine mid-sip, coughing loudly. Taehyung glances over, alarmed, and slaps him on the back. 

“You’re what?” Jimin asks weakly, uncomfortably aware of the way everyone is staring at him, including Jungkook.

“Yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything. I just didn’t want to say anything about it, because I didn’t want to… jinx it, I guess? But I’ve started going out with this guy. We’ve gone on two dates already.”

“Watch out, world! Jungkookie has officially entered the market,” Seokjin announces loudly, whooping and waving his glass around again. A little bit of his drink sloshes onto the table. 

Jimin barely registers the words. His hearing has gone fuzzy. He thinks he might be sick, actually.

“That’s great, Kook,” Hoseok says. “It’s been a long time. I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there. Good for you. Who’s this guy?”

“His name is Seojoon,” Jungkook says. “He’s a lawyer. A few years older than me.”

“A lawyer!” Taehyung whistles. “Wow, Kookie. Please don’t cancel your date with Mr. Lawyer Man on my behalf. I don’t think I would ever recover from the guilt.”

“Okay. So, obviously, he’s rich. But is he hot?” Seokjin asks, resting his chin on his hands like an excited child.

Jungkook laughs, quiet and shy. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean… yeah?”

“That’s not important,” Namjoon insists, gently shoving Seokjin’s shoulder. “Is he treating you well? Does he pay when he takes you out? Do you feel safe around him?” Namjoon sounds like an overbearing dad.

Jungkook nods, smiling a little. “Yeah. I really like him.”

“Jimin’s being awfully quiet,” Seokjin announces loudly from across the table. Taehyung shoots him a wordless glare, quick enough that Jimin could have easily missed it—and he prays that everyone else actually did miss it.

“Oh, I’m not—” Jimin stumbles over the words, clearing his throat. It feels like his heart is being tightly squeezed by a fist. “I’m not trying to be. That’s great, Jungkook. I’m—I’m happy for you.” 

Jungkook smiles and lets out a little puff of air, but he seems to be having difficulty meeting Jimin’s eye. Jimin would typically wonder why, but he’s too busy being actively consumed by the desire to hurl himself off a cliff.

He should have known that this would happen. Eventually. 

But now that it’s here, he isn’t ready for it at all.

Despite how long he and Jungkook have been friends, Jungkook has never actually been in a serious relationship. This… whatever this is, Jimin has never been forced to deal with it. Sure, there have been hookups here and there, a few casual flings that Jimin desperately tried to avoid hearing details about, but never a boyfriend. 

Jungkook always took his academics very seriously, and during vet school, he said he didn’t have time to date. Which was true—he barely had time for anything. Once he graduated and started working as a vet, he threw himself and his whole heart into his career, and he never really seemed to care about putting himself out there. He’d never even downloaded a dating app—at least not to Jimin’s knowledge.

So this is new. This dating thing. And Jimin knows that he should be happy for him, that he should want him to be happy…

But right now it just feels like he’s been knifed in the gut.

“Gotta pee,” Jimin mumbles, nudging Taehyung to slide out of the booth and let him out. Taehyung eyes him warily for a brief moment, then slips out of his seat so Jimin can get up.

Jimin barely feels his legs under him as he makes his way to the restroom, taking a few deep breaths as he squeezes through the crowd of people in the middle of the bar. When he pushes open the door and it swings closed behind him, the sudden silence is deafening. All he can hear is Jungkook’s voice, replaying in his mind, over and over:

I’m… going on a date, actually.

Jimin stares at himself in the mirror. Despite the alcohol coursing through his veins, which would usually leave him looking a little flushed, he looks pale. He runs both hands through his blonde hair, pushing it off his face, meeting his own gaze in the reflection and letting out a deep sigh.

Overall, he thinks he looks relatively composed, which is a relief. The last thing he wants to do is tip Jungkook off about his feelings. Especially not now.

The bathroom door swings open and Jimin jumps a little, startled by the sound. It’s Taehyung. 

“Hey,” he says. “I came to check on you.”

“Thanks,” Jimin mumbles. He feels a little embarrassed, even though he knows there’s no reason to be. He just doesn’t like it when people pity him.  

Taehyung is the only friend in the group who knows about Jimin’s feelings for Jungkook. Although Jimin’s sure that the others might have an idea, based on what they’ve observed with their own eyes, Taehyung is the only one Jimin has actually told. He needed to talk to someone about it, or his heart would have exploded.

And Taehyung has been very supportive over the years—never making Jimin feel stupid or wrong for the way that he feels, and never complaining when Jimin needed to vent about his emotions. There have been multiple occasions where Taehyung has cradled a weeping (and usually drunk) Jimin in his arms, petting his hair as Jimin wails about how much he loves Jungkook… and how badly it hurts.

Jimin’s always expected that Taehyung might snap and get tired of it at some point, or even take matters into his own hands and tell Jungkook himself, just so he won’t have to deal with it anymore—but that has never happened. He’s been nothing but kind and understanding. 

“Are you okay?”

Jimin nods, then lets out a nervous laugh and shakes his head. “I mean… no? But I guess I have to be.”

“Jiminie, I feel like…” Taehyung trails off, looking unsure. “I feel like this is only happening because you haven’t told him. I feel like if you just told him—”

“No,” Jimin says, cutting him off. “No. That is not happening. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway.”

Taehyung sighs. “Fine. But I think we should talk about this later. When it’s less… fresh. I just wanted to check and make sure you were alright. I was kind of expecting to find you drowning in a puddle of your own tears.”

“I’m saving that for later.”

Taehyung tsks under his breath, then takes a step closer, reaching out and giving Jimin’s shoulder a squeeze. His eyes are soft. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just gonna fake it ‘til I make it.”

“Would more drinks help? I already ordered you another glass of wine. Just in case.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna need it.”

——— 

As terrible as it made him feel, Jimin found himself secretly wishing that things would fizzle out between Jungkook and the lawyer. It was how he comforted himself: it had only been a few dates. It wasn’t guaranteed to lead to anything more. Maybe they would end up breaking it off before things got too serious. 

Unfortunately for Jimin, that is not how it plays out.

One date leads to another, and then to another. It seems like every time Jimin sees Jungkook, he has something new to say about Seojoon. A few weeks go by, and then it happens—what Jimin was fearing the most.

They’re at a coffee shop—Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung—a frequent meetup spot for the three of them. It’s near the animal clinic where Jungkook works, and he often likes to stop by during his lunch breaks, which usually line up with Jimin’s. Taehyung doesn’t work a job with regular hours, since his career consists of flinging thick globs of paint onto giant canvases until he’s happy with how it looks, so he has the flexibility to meet up with them whenever. 

Jimin’s in the middle of taking a long sip of his latte when Taehyung asks the question, and it’s a miracle that he doesn’t choke on it.

“How are things going with the boyfriend?”

Jungkook glances down at his coffee, looking a little shy. “Good. Really good, actually. I can’t wait for you guys to finally meet him.”

Jimin just stares at him with wide eyes, mouth still full of latte, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.

After a moment, he swallows with a loud gulp. “So, uh… it’s official, then? If you’re calling him that?”

Jungkook nods, both hands wrapped around his mug as he smiles softly. The lighting in the cafe makes his blonde hair glow like a halo. “Yeah, we decided to be exclusive.”

“Wow. That’s…” Jimin trails off, hastily taking another sip of his drink in order to buy some time to craft his response. “That’s horrible” or “That’s literally the worst news I’ve ever received in my entire life” are probably not appropriate responses, although they are what he feels compelled to blurt out.

“That’s really something,” Jimin ends up saying with an inappropriate amount of gusto. It’s Taehyung’s turn to choke on his beverage.

Jungkook glances at him, one eyebrow raised slightly. He apparently decides to leave the choking unacknowledged. “Yeah, this is all kind of unexpected, to be honest. But I’m really happy. I’m trying to not worry about things too much. I just want to see how things go. You know?”

Jimin nods. “Yup.”

Jimin had learned later that night at the bar that this relationship wasn’t actually something that Jungkook had actively been seeking out. He hadn’t been looking on dating apps or anything like that—contrary to what Jimin had assumed. He actually met Seojoon at the animal hospital. 

Seojoon apparently has a Golden Retriever with an ongoing health issue (something to do with its hip—Jimin’s not clear on the details) that resulted in frequent visits to the vet. Each time Seojoon came in, he would shamelessly flirt with Jungkook every opportunity he got. 

Which, honestly... Can Jimin even fault him for that? Probably not. 

Anyway, Jungkook said he just laughed and brushed it off at first, but he eventually caved and agreed to let Seojoon take him out on a date. Originally, Jungkook mainly just wanted a free meal, but he ended up enjoying Seojoon’s company so much that he agreed to another date. Which led to another, and another…

And now they’re here. Official. Exclusive.

“He’s wrapping up a big case next week, one he’s been working on for months,” Jungkook is saying when Jimin tunes back in. “That’s why he’s been so busy, but I’m hoping when that’s done we can all get together. I think you guys would really like him.”

“He sounds great,” Jimin says in his most convincing voice.

Although they hadn’t met yet, Jimin had heard plenty about him, and seen photos, too. Seojoon’s in his early thirties, a few years older than Jungkook, enough time to establish himself financially after law school (read: he’s pretty impressively rich by now.) Jimin’s eyebrows had shot straight up to his hairline when he saw pictures of him for the first time—he’s got to be over six feet tall, and he’s super muscular, with handsome, chiseled features that make him look like he should be the star of some legal drama.

Jimin doesn’t have a problem with any of these aspects of Seojoon or his appearance, but it all stings a little. Because if this guy is Jungkook’s type, then Jimin thinks it’s pretty clear why he isn’t. 

It’s not like it should come as a surprise. He’s spent the last six or seven years wondering why he’s not Jungkook’s type. Lying awake in bed fretting over it, crying over it, bargaining in his own mind: are there parts of him he could change that would make a difference?

Which part of him is the dealbreaker? 

He sighs into his cup, draining the last of his coffee before glancing up at Jungkook. He’s wearing dark gray scrubs today, embroidered with Dr. Jeon, Veterinary Physician in white thread over the left side of his chest.

“How did your class go this morning? You were testing out that new assignment, right?” Jungkook asks Jimin.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot that was today,” Taehyung adds, turning to Jimin. “How did the gremlins fare?”

Taehyung always refers to Jimin’s students as gremlins, as if they’re misbehaving five-year-olds, not adult university students. Honestly, he’s not entirely wrong.

Jimin cracks a smile, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “It actually went really well. They were super engaged and excited about it. I think I’m going to add it to the syllabus every semester from now on.”

Jimin teaches a course on ethical marketing, and since he’s been teaching the same curriculum for about two years now, he had been looking for a way to spice things up a little. There was a recent scandal involving a popular car manufacturer which had falsified data about the fuel economy of their vehicles. Jimin decided it might be interesting to provide a real-life case study, so he asked his students to come up with two things: a viable alternative marketing strategy for the cars moving forward, as well as a game-plan for the company to recover their image after the damaging claims came to light.

“I don’t think it will be something people forget about anytime soon,” Jungkook says. “It’s going to be pretty hard for them to regain everyone’s trust.”

Jimin nods. “My students had some great ideas about how they might do it. Maybe one of them will get a job there after graduation this year and be able to share their ideas. I’m not sure if their marketing is in-house or outsourced to an agency, though. Although I guess they’re probably going to change things up after all this conspired. What a mess.”

Jimin graduated from university with a marketing degree, and he started out his career at the bottom of the food chain at a large agency. Eager to climb the ranks and improve his career prospects, he decided to simultaneously go for his MBA while still working full-time. 

It was a stressful couple of years while he went to night school alongside a full-time job, and although he did land a promotion afterwards, Jimin felt increasingly disenchanted by the marketing tactics used by the agency he worked for, many of which he felt were unethical. He eventually found a job with a different firm, and when he met the same frustration there, he invited Seokjin out for beers and spent over three hours picking his brain about teaching. 

Seokjin put him in touch with the right people, and Jimin ended up landing a job teaching at the same university as Seokjin. He created and pitched a course on ethical marketing strategies, which is now in high demand and sees full enrollment every semester. 

It wasn’t an easy transition, but Jimin is so much happier now. He’s not making quite as much money as he did in the corporate world, but he’s doing something a lot more important—helping to set future generations on the right path and positively influencing the trajectory of the industry. He feels like he’s helping, and in a big way, not just helping CEOs line their pockets like he was before.

“I’ve gotta go,” Jungkook says, pushing back his chair and grabbing his leather jacket as he prepares to leave. “I’ve got a big surgery this afternoon and I don’t want to be rushing back.”

“Dog? Cat? Gerbil?” Taehyung asks.

“Cat. He’s got a fractured femur, and we’re going to try to repair it and save the leg. Otherwise, we’ll need to amputate. Poor guy was hit by a car. He’s doing pretty well, all things considered… I just really hope we can save his leg.”

“That’s a pretty common surgery for you, right? I’m sure you’ll do great,” Jimin says, remembering times Jungkook has talked about broken femurs before.

Jungkook nods. “This one is just really bad—it’s pretty much shattered. He’ll be okay if we amputate… cats do better with hind leg amputation than they do with their front legs. But I’d still rather save the leg.”

“Good luck, Kookie,” Taehyung tells him. 

Jimin has no doubt that Jungkook will be able to repair the broken bone. He’s incredibly gifted at what he does—he was at the top of his class in vet school, and he has a well-known reputation in their pocket of the city for being an amazing veterinarian. The volume of patients at the clinic he works at has increased by 50% since he started working there.

Jimin has no idea how he does it—how he faces so many high-pressure situations and emotional challenges on a daily basis, yet still manages to come home with a smile on his face and his calm, happy spirit intact on most days. But if anyone has the heart for it, it’s Jungkook. 

Taehyung and Jimin leave the coffee shop a few minutes later, and Taehyung doesn’t say anything further about the latest developments in Jungkook’s relationship. 

Jimin doesn’t either. 

——— 

“Maybe you could try being nicer to the president of the business school if you really want a raise,” Seokjin says, his voice tinny and distant on the other end of the phone. “You called his daughter ugly.”

“I did no such thing—” 

Okay, actually, he did. Sort of. Seokjin had shown Jimin a picture of the newborn baby that the president had shared on social media, and Jimin, not aware of whose baby it was, said that it looked like a potato that had been left out in the sun too long.

Jimin backtracks. “I mean, it’s not like he heard me say it.”

“No, but I doubt sending that energy out into the universe has done you any favors.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin groans. “She really did look like a potato, though.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Do you think this is helping your case?”

“No. Hey, when are you going to—” Jimin pauses in the middle of his sentence when his phone begins to vibrate against his cheek. He pulls it away from his face and glances down at the screen. There’s an incoming call from Jungkook.

“Gotta go. Jungkook is calling. If he’s calling instead of texting, the world might be ending. I’ll call you back later.” 

Seokjin says his goodbyes, and Jimin presses the button to answer Jungkook’s call, closing the dishwasher he’d been emptying with one hand as he chatted on the phone. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Jungkook’s voice is shaky on the other end of the line. “Hey—um, no, actually.”

Jimin freezes, sensing that something is very wrong. “What’s up?”

“My apartment… I just came home and it was completely flooded.”

“What? Are you okay? Oh God—is Haru okay?” Jimin’s stomach drops, thinking of Jungkook’s cat. If anything happened to her— 

“She’s fine,” Jungkook says, and Jimin lets out a deep sigh of relief. “The apartment, however, is not. There’s like two feet of water on the ground. She was on top of the kitchen table, so I guess she hopped up there once it started to flood.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I can tell you more about it later,” Jungkook says, still sounding shaken. “I just… need somewhere to go, I guess? I have Haru with me, and I was able to grab some clothes and stuff from my top drawers, but I don’t know where to go—”

“Just come here. Don’t even worry about it. We’ll figure things out when you get here. Okay? You can park in the guest spot.”

Jimin can hear the deep breath that Jungkook releases. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Thank you. I can come now? You’re home?”

“I’m home. Just come now. Have you eaten? I’ll make something for you.”

“No. I’m starving. I was just on the phone with my insurance for like an hour. Thank you so much, Jimin hyung.”

Jimin hangs up a few moments later and gets to work, warming up the leftover rice in the rice cooker and pulling out a few side dishes from the fridge. He sets out a couple of plates on the kitchen table, frowning to himself as he worries about what this will mean for Jungkook, his apartment, and all his stuff. He grabs a clean glass dish from the cupboard and fills it up with cool water from the sink, placing it on the floor in the corner of the kitchen so Haru will have something to drink when she gets there. He’s not sure how long she’s been without food or water.

Haru’s actual name is Haru Haru, but she’s usually just called Haru for short. She has bright blue eyes and long, silky white fur, and she’s very small for an adult cat—people often mistake her for a kitten, despite the fact that she’s fully grown. She’s also Jungkook’s favorite thing in the entire world.

He’d found her during one of the darkest times of his life. He had just been laid off from the veterinary clinic where he worked, after he’d only worked there for a few months, and it sent him into a tailspin. It had taken him forever to find a clinic that was hiring new vets after he graduated, and after all that work to find a job, the clinic ended up being sold to new owners—a husband and wife duo who didn’t want any other vets on staff—so the existing vets were let go.

So he found himself jobless again, after years of grueling hard work and education. He was starting to feel like it was all for nothing. Like maybe it was a sign he had chosen the wrong path. Like he wasn’t good enough for this.

A few days after he lost his job, he was walking home from the convenience store near his apartment, and as he was about to round the corner onto his street, he heard a tiny mewl from a nearby alleyway. Approaching the source of the sound, he discovered a tiny white kitten nestled between some garbage bags, frozen half to death and partially covered by snow, with no siblings or mom in sight. She was way too young to be separated from her mother and tiny enough for Jungkook to cradle in the palm of his hand. 

He was relatively certain that she would die.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook had murmured softly, gently rubbing the small kitten in between his hands, trying to generate some friction and warmth to increase her body temperature. “I know how to do this. I can take care of you. Just hang in there, little one.”

He’d typically bring her into the clinic where he worked, but he didn’t have a clinic anymore, so he brought her home with him instead. The biggest hurdle was getting her back up to a regular temperature without her going into shock—assuming she wasn’t already too far gone—and getting her through that first night. 

And she survived. He couldn’t believe it, but she did. A kitten that young needs to feed every two hours, and since he was unemployed, he was able to do it, feeding her formula from a small syringe that she’d hungrily suckle down, surprising him with her appetite. She was so small, even for her age, but she steadily grew, and although she seemed a little less smart than a typical cat—which Jungkook figured might be due to oxygen deprivation during her frozen brush with death—he found her unpredictable and silly antics to be rather adorable.

More than anything, she gave him a reason to get up in the morning. He had been feeling worthless, hopeless, staring at the wall all day long, feeling like he had lost his calling. Waking up to her soft meows and checking her frostbitten paws each morning gave him a renewed sense of purpose.

And that’s how she got her name—Haru Haru, day by day. Every day, she reminded him that this was all worth it. 

He’d saved her, but she saved him, too.

And it was like she knew it. Although she was a little dumb, they shared a deep bond. Any time he was at home, she was by his side—sleeping next to his head on the pillow, sitting on the desk next to his computer, sprawled on his lap on the couch. She seemed to sense whenever he needed comfort and would always deliver it in the form of loud purrs and aggressive head-butts. It was as if she understood how hard Jungkook had worked to keep her alive and she wanted to pay him back in the currency of love.

That’s why Jimin was so worried when he heard about the flood—why he immediately wondered about Haru. If anything happened to her, it would absolutely destroy Jungkook. 

Jimin’s going to give her a nice big squeeze once she arrives.

His doorbell rings just as he sets the last of the food out on the table, and he rushes over to answer it. 

Jungkook stands in the threshold, a plastic cat carrier in one hand, a large duffel bag in the other. His hair is sticking out in a million different directions, and his plain white t-shirt is disheveled, collar pulled to one side.

“Come in,” Jimin tells him, reaching out to take Haru’s carrier. He brings her inside, and Jungkook follows, taking off his sneakers inside the door. Once the door is closed, Jimin sets the carrier down on the ground and opens the hatch. Haru bolts out in a lightning burst of white, immediately skittering underneath the couch.

Jimin rises back up to his feet, taking Jungkook’s jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He turns to look at Jungkook, who’s just standing there silently with shining eyes, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Jimin says, opening his arms. “Come here.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward and letting Jimin wrap him in a hug. Jimin wraps both arms around him tightly, stretching across his broad shoulders and squeezing hard.

“It’ll be okay. You and Haru are okay, and that’s what matters,” Jimin tells him. 

Jungkook nods, his cheek brushing against Jimin’s hair. 

Jimin reluctantly releases him after a couple of seconds. He always tries to keep their hugs short. It’s just easier.

“Eat,” Jimin commands, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Jungkook to sit down. “You must be starving.”

“I am,” Jungkook says with a sigh. He sounds exhausted. He sits down in the chair obediently and it’s only a moment before he’s stuffing his mouth with bites of rice and the side dishes Jimin has laid out.

“Sorry it’s kind of an odd assortment. I need to go grocery shopping,” Jimin says as he slides into the chair across from Jungkook.

“No, it’s great,” Jungkook says with a mouth full of cucumber. “Thank you.”

After Jungkook has had a few minutes to get some food in his system, he tells Jimin more about what happened.

“So I came home from the gym, and the elevator was out of service, which I thought was weird. I took the stairs up to my floor and the hallway was completely flooded. I guess all the units on the floor were flooded, not just mine. It happened so fast that the fire department wasn’t even there yet. I was obviously very worried about Haru, but she was fine. She wasn’t even wet.”

“Do they know how it happened?”

“I guess a pipe burst, and something about how it happened caused other pipes to burst, too. I’m not exactly a plumbing expert, so I didn’t really understand when they were explaining it to me. And everything was kind of a blur, honestly.”

“I’m so sorry. You were so excited when you bought the place… I can’t imagine what it must feel like to see it flooded like that—when it’s your own home, not just somewhere you rent. And all your furniture…” Jimin swallows hard.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, head resting on his hand. “It’s really upsetting, but from what I was able to see, I don’t think I lost much of sentimental value. My homeowners insurance will cover the cost of the damage to the apartment, and replacing my furniture, too. Pretty much all the furniture is done for, I think. But the water wasn’t high enough to get to anything I really cared about… pictures, or stuff that really matters.”

“But the house can be fixed? It’s not a lost cause?”

“I was talking to my insurance on the phone, and they won’t know for sure until they come inspect in person after the water has all been drained out, but it sounds like it can be fixed. They said it will take some serious gutting—basically redoing the walls and floors, so if it works out that way, it’s going to take several weeks, or maybe even months.”

Jimin stares at him with wide eyes. “What are you…”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m homeless at the moment,” Jungkook says, letting out a dry laugh. “I thought about asking Seojoon to stay with him, but I honestly think it’s too early in our relationship, because it would basically be like I was moving in, so it would be weird—”

“You should stay here,” Jimin blurts out.

Jungkook glances up, his gaze softening. “I had wondered about that, but you don’t have an extra bedroom, and I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Jimin shakes his head aggressively. “No, no, that doesn’t matter. I know sleeping on the couch isn’t ideal, but as long as you don’t mind it, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. Don’t even worry about it.”

Jimin does have a queen-size bed, and it’s more than big enough for two, but that is not happening, for obvious reasons.

A visible weight seems to be lifted from Jungkook’s shoulders as he slumps back in his chair, sighing. “Okay. Thank you so much. I’ve never been in a situation like this before—I wasn’t even sure where I was going to sleep tonight. And my parents are so far away, it’s not like I can go stay with them. I just didn’t know...”

“I know. But it’s okay. Do we need to go get food for Haru?”

Jungkook nods. “All her food was under the kitchen sink, so it ended up underwater. I couldn’t save any to bring with me.”

“Okay. There’s a pet food store just around the corner. They’re probably still open.”

“You’re sure it’s okay for her to stay? Don’t forget it’s not just me. Doesn’t your lease say something about no pets?”

Jimin ponders that for a moment. “What my landlord doesn’t know won’t kill him. Besides, she’s such a scaredy cat, I’m sure she’d hide if he happened to come over anyway.”

It hasn’t really sunk in that he’s just invited Jungkook to live with him for an extended period of time. Jimin didn’t even really think the offer through before he made it. Jungkook is his best friend, so it’s not like there’s really much to consider—he needs a place to sleep, so of course Jimin will provide him with that. It’s not like he would just leave him out on the street.

But now, as reality sets in, images are dancing across Jimin’s mind, domestic visions he’d never dared to dream about: Jungkook, brushing his teeth in the bathroom before bed. Jungkook, asleep on Jimin’s couch, snuggled under a pile of warm blankets. Jungkook, toweling his hair off after a shower. Jungkook, half-asleep in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee with messy hair and no shirt on.

This may have been a bad idea.

Haru appears from under the couch, then, hesitantly peering around with dilated pupils so big that her eyes look completely black. 

“Come here, honey,” Jungkook calls her, scratching his fingers together in summons. She reluctantly walks over, keeping her body low to the ground, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth nervously.

“I know you don’t know this place, but you know me,” Jimin tells her quietly, leaning down and offering his hand. She nervously steps over to sniff it, bumping her nose against it once before walking back towards the couch. She sits down on the floor and stares at them both.

“It’ll probably take her a while to get comfortable here, but don’t take it personally,” Jungkook says. “You know how she is.”

Jimin nods. “I know how she is.”

When they get back from their run to the pet food store, Jimin gathers some shower supplies for Jungkook, since he was only able to haphazardly grab some clothes and a few random hygiene items on his way out of his apartment. 

While Jungkook is in the shower and Jimin is very much not thinking about him in the shower, Jimin fetches some clean bedding from the linen closet and makes up a bed for Jungkook on one end of the sectional sofa in the living room, fluffing up two pillows and smoothing out a quilt and a soft blanket.

By the time Jungkook crawls into the makeshift bed, he’s looking thoroughly less frazzled than earlier—his hair is damp, his face is freshly scrubbed, and he’s wearing a too-big t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. 

It’s not like Jimin has never seen him like this before, but having him here in his house, alone, it’s… different. 

Jimin swallows down the thoughts. He doesn’t have a choice. He shouldn’t even be thinking them.

Jungkook was never his, and he’s especially not now.

“Do you need anything before I go to bed?” Jimin asks him gently, hand hovering over the lightswitch in the kitchen before he heads down the hallway to his bedroom.

“I’m good. You can turn off the light. I just…” Jungkook trails off. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Jimin says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jungkook says quietly.

Jimin turns off the light, catapulting them into darkness.

——— 

Having Jungkook around all the time ends up being a strange mix of torture and delight. 

He’s very neat and tidy, as far as roommates go, which is ideal, especially since he doesn’t even have a real room to stay in. But the constant reminders of his presence are still there, even while he’s away at work or out with Seojoon. The side of the couch that he sleeps on still clings to his scent—fresh laundry and cotton—even after his bedding has been folded up for the day.

But most of the time, when Jimin’s home, Jungkook is there, too.

In a way, this is what Jimin has always wanted: to come home after a long day at work and be greeted by Jungkook’s bright smile when he walks through the door. To have dinner with him every night. To share a pot of coffee in the morning, sleepy and bleary-eyed, shoulders brushing in the kitchen. To enjoy each other’s company in silence after the sun has set, watching a movie or reading a book. 

And it’s so tempting to play pretend. To let himself feel like Jungkook is here because he chose him. 

But he didn’t, and eventually, this will all be over.

So Jimin tries to focus on the positive. He doesn’t know what will happen with Jungkook and Seojoon—it’s entirely possible that things will get more serious. They could move in together, even decide to commit to each other forever. If that happens, he’ll be losing his chance with Jungkook for good—and losing his spot as the most important person in Jungkook’s life, too. 

With that possibility hovering on the horizon, the next several weeks feel like Jimin’s last chance.

Last chance for what, exactly? He’s not sure. To confess? Of course, although that feels wrong for him to do, since it would be interfering with Jungkook’s relationship at this point. To selfishly enjoy Jungkook’s company without having to share him with anyone else? Maybe. 

So he does his best to not think about anything too hard—to not let it get to him when the apartment is dark and quiet because Jungkook is spending the night at Seojoon’s. To not let his eyes linger when Jungkook’s in the bathroom with the door open after a shower, towel sliding down his hips as he brushes his hair. To not let himself read into it when Jungkook comes up behind him and gives him a hug out of nowhere, or dissolves into a fit of laughter over one of Jimin’s silly jokes, or glances at him with fond, smiling eyes over the kitchen table.

None of it means anything.

That’s what he tells himself as he stands in the kitchen tonight, watching the sun through the windows as it begins to sink below the horizon and paint the Seoul skyline in hues of pink and gold. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, playing a game on his phone, humming quietly to himself.

Jimin is absentmindedly stirring sugar into his tea, lost in thought as he waits for his dinner to finish reheating in the microwave. His bare feet are cold on the kitchen tile, and he’s wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, his sandy blonde hair a complete mess. He’s always lazy in the summer, when school’s not in session. On days when he doesn’t have to work or even leave the house, sometimes he doesn’t even get dressed.

About forty unnecessary stirs later, the microwave’s end signal beeps loudly, and Jimin snaps back to reality, swivelling around and taking a few short steps across the kitchen to retrieve his food.

Unfortunately for Jimin’s grumbling belly, it will soon become clear that this dinner is not meant to be.

Haru, sweet and fluffy as she is, is easily spooked—especially since she’s still not completely adjusted to her new environment. Usually, when she darts across the apartment in a white flash, dramatically frightened by the tiniest of noises, it’s hilarious. It’s not particularly convenient now, though, as she bolts right across Jimin’s path in the kitchen, startled by the beeping of the microwave, swooping directly underfoot. 

He pivots last-minute to avoid stomping on her, awkwardly turning his body as he does. As his foot makes contact with the ground and he nearly loses his balance, he hears it before he feels it: a quiet pop. His ankle bends slightly in a way it is surely not meant to bend, and a second later, intense pain shoots up from his foot into his leg.

“Fuck, ow,” Jimin swears, lifting his foot back off the ground and clutching the kitchen island for support. “Ow, fuck, fuck.”

Jungkook glances up from his spot on the couch, mildly alarmed. “What happened? Did you burn yourself?”

“No,” Jimin chokes out, the searing pain overwhelming him. He has a pretty high pain tolerance, but it’s really bad. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he blinks them away rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. “Just twisted my ankle, I think. Haru almost tripped me.”

“Haru! What are we going to do with you?” Jungkook shouts in her vague direction, although there’s no bite to his voice. “Come sit on the couch,” he says, shifting his attention back towards Jimin and scooting over a bit. “You should probably elevate it.”

Jimin attempts to gingerly place his foot back on the ground, hands still resting on the counter, but as soon as he puts the slightest amount of weight on it, sharp waves of pain shoot through his foot. He winces and sucks in a breath, eyes squinting shut. “I don’t think… I don’t think I can walk.”

“Oh, shit.” Something seems to shift in Jungkook’s demeanor, then, as he realizes just how seriously Jimin is hurt. He leaps off the couch, brows furrowed and face etched with concern, crossing the living room in a few long strides and sliding in next to Jimin at the kitchen island. His voice softens noticeably as he says: “Here, let me help you.”

He slips one arm around Jimin’s waist tightly, using his other hand to coax Jimin to lift his arm and put it around Jungkook’s shoulders. Through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, Jimin can distinctly feel Jungkook’s fingertips pressing gently against his side.

Jimin closes his eyes for a second. He’s silently thankful for the intense and searing pain distracting him at the moment, because otherwise, he’s pretty sure that having Jungkook’s arm so firmly wrapped around his waist would send him straight to the grave, and he is far too young to die.

He puts most of his weight on Jungkook and more-or-less hops over to the couch on one foot, which takes a terribly long time, considering the short distance between the kitchen and living room. By the time he makes it to the couch, he’s exhausted, and the pain is rapidly getting worse. Jungkook helps to lower him down onto the sofa, not releasing his hold on Jimin’s waist until his butt has hit the cushion.

“Can you turn sideways so that your legs are on the couch?” Jungkook asks, doctor mode kicking in. He doesn’t wait for an answer—he gently places his hands on the outside of Jimin’s thighs and helps to guide his legs up onto the sofa. At the same time, Jimin rotates his body so that his back is up against the armrest. 

Jungkook shoots a fleeting glance at Jimin’s new position, then grabs a cushion from the opposite end of the couch. He steps behind Jimin and presses lightly on his back with two fingers, apparently indicating that he should lean forward. Jimin does, silently impressed that he’s managed to deduce the meaning of that gesture, because all this physical contact is making his brain a little fuzzy.

Well, actually, maybe it’s the excruciating pain. He’s not entirely sure.

Jungkook slips the cushion behind his back, and Jimin sighs, immediately more comfortable. Then Jungkook carefully sits down at the other end of the sofa, seemingly trying to not jostle Jimin too much.

“Is it okay if I look at it?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward. His eyes are anxious and concerned as he glances up at Jimin, and something about it makes Jimin’s chest ache.

Jimin nods silently.

Jungkook slides a bit closer to Jimin and gently moves both of Jimin’s legs so that his feet end up in Jungkook’s lap. Then he repositions Jimin’s injured foot, one large hand wrapping around Jimin’s calf and lifting it up so he can examine it. Jimin focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

“I am not an expert on human ankles,” Jungkook hums under his breath, fingers ghosting along the back of Jimin’s heel. “But, believe it or not, mice ankles are really similar to human ones.”

“They are?” Jimin asks weakly. “But they’re so tiny.”

“I know. You’d be surprised by some aspects of animal anatomy. It’s really interesting,” Jungkook says, his voice soft and level as he visually inspects Jimin’s ankle, not touching it yet. “To be fair, your ankle is also pretty tiny.”

“Hey,” Jimin complains, the playful jab igniting a spark in him. “Don’t forget how easy it would be for me to kick you in the face right now.”

“I don’t think you would do very much damage in your current state,” Jungkook says, laughing under his breath. His eyebrows are furrowed now, expression serious again as he places a finger underneath Jimin’s ankle bone. “I’m going to press. Let me know how much you can tolerate.”

Jimin only manages to survive one second of pressure before he yelps in pain, and Jungkook eases off, frowning. 

“You’re really swollen already,” Jungkook murmurs, his hand now wrapping around the bottom of Jimin’s foot. “I’m going to rotate your foot a little bit, okay?”

Jimin swallows and nods.

Although it’s painful, he’s able to endure the slight rotation of his foot in every direction: forward, back, left, right. Despite the pain, there’s something comforting about having Jungkook’s hands on him, doting on him with such careful touches and a worried expression. Jimin’s not accustomed to being under such close scrutiny. 

“I think it’s just a sprain,” Jungkook announces, gently placing Jimin’s foot back down in his lap. “You should see a doctor tomorrow, but we don’t need to rush you to the hospital or anything. I really don’t think it’s broken. You should get some ice on it ASAP, though. I’ll get some—stay here.”

“I can’t walk,” Jimin says flatly.

“Right,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose. He hops off the couch and heads back over to the kitchen, opening the freezer and rummaging through it. He emerges with a bag of frozen corn a few moments later, wrapping a tea towel around it and walking back over to Jimin. He grabs another big pillow, lifting Jimin’s leg and positioning the pillow underneath it so that his foot will be elevated, then he gently wraps the frozen bag around Jimin’s ankle. Jimin winces at the cold, but he does sigh in relief when it begins to numb the pain right away.

“Be right back,” Jungkook assures him, then he disappears again. A few moments later, he returns with a glass of water in one hand, and two pills in the other.

“Take these,” he instructs, handing Jimin the pills, then the water. “It’ll help with the pain and inflammation. You should take two every six hours.”

“Thanks, Dr. Jeon,” Jimin says with a small smile.

“Since Haru can’t speak Korean, I will apologize on her behalf,” Jungkook says, reaching out and ruffling Jimin’s hair a bit. “She is very cute, but she is also very dumb. Like, seriously, one of the dumbest cats I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of cats.”

“It’s not her fault,” Jimin says with a shrug. “It’s not like she was trying to hurt me.”

“Yeah, but…” Jungkook trails off, chewing on his bottom lip. “It is kind of my fault, though. She’s only here because of me. And now you’re hurt.”

“Hey, no,” Jimin says with wide eyes. “Don’t say that. Please don’t feel bad. I’m happy to have you here. You and her are both welcome here as long as you need to stay. Don’t feel guilty. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I need to go to work right now or anything, anyway. Hanging out on the couch for a few days won’t kill me.” He suddenly becomes aware that he’s babbling, and he abruptly closes his mouth.

“I know. It’s just… I really don’t like seeing you in pain,” Jungkook says quietly.

Jimin’s heart does a weird fluttery thing, but Jungkook opens his mouth to speak again before Jimin is forced to spend too much time mentally processing the comment. 

“Well, at least let me keep you company. What do you wanna do tonight? We could play a board game? Movie marathon? Get drunk for no reason? Or, like, all of the above?”

Jimin blinks at him. “Um. Weren’t you planning on staying over at Seojoon’s tonight?”

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, a little sheepish. “I mean, yeah. But it’s not like I would leave you alone like this. You can’t walk.”

Jimin doesn’t bother to argue with him. “I guess you have a point. It would be nice to have someone to help me hobble to the bathroom. Although I’m sorry it has to be you. That’s not a very glamorous job.” 

Jimin knows it’s wrong to feel pleased that Jungkook will be spending time with him tonight instead of Seojoon, so he decides to ignore the feeling of warm delight that spreads through his gut once he realizes that he gets Jungkook all to himself this evening. He should feel bad that Jungkook is being forced to cancel his plans. He spends, like, at least three or four seconds forcing himself to think the thought. 

Oh, it’s a shame he won’t be able to hang out with his super-hot, super-dreamy boyfriend tonight. I’m definitely really sad about this. Super disappointed for him.

Jimin leans the side of his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment and listening to the sound of Jungkook padding back over towards the kitchen. Then he hears Jungkook ask Siri to call Seojoon. A few moments pass, and then he’s speaking into the phone.

“Hey, babe.”

The pet name stings. Jimin fights to keep his facial expression neutral, resisting the urge to flinch.

“I’m not going to be able to come over tonight. I’m sorry.” A beat of silence. “No, everything is fine. But Jimin sprained his ankle, and he can’t walk at the moment. I need to stay here and help him, in case he needs anything.” More silence. “Yeah, I know. I was looking forward to it too.” Jungkook’s voice gets quieter. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? We can plan something fun. But I gotta go. I’m sorry.” 

Jimin hears the sound of Jungkook’s phone being placed on the kitchen counter with a quiet clatter. “I’m going to wrap your ankle now that you’ve been icing it for a little while,” Jungkook calls out, now walking down the hall. “Stay there,” he adds teasingly.

“I think I’ve moved about six inches from where you originally deposited me,” Jimin calls back. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responds, voice muffled from somewhere down the hallway. He returns a minute later, a roll of stretchy elastic bandage in hand. “I took the liberty of rummaging through your medicine cabinet. I’m glad you have this. You’re impressively well stocked.”

“Yeah, I think that’s left over from when I fucked up my wrist a few years ago.”

“I remember that,” Jungkook muses, crouching down on the floor beside the couch and beginning to unwrap the roll, looping it loosely around his fingers. “You versus the bowling ball.”

“I really wanted to beat Tae,” Jimin whines. “Why is he so good at bowling?” 

Jungkook smiles, shaking his head. “This will feel a little tight—it’s supposed to be. But if it feels too tight, like it’s gonna cut off your circulation, let me know, okay?”

Jimin nods as Jungkook begins to wrap the bandage around his ankle. He’s starting to get used to the feeling of Jungkook’s gentle touch by now, his skilled fingers carefully brushing over Jimin’s bare skin as he tightly wraps the bandage over and over in a figure eight pattern. His long hair falls into his eyes as he meticulously makes his way down Jimin’s foot, securing the end of the bandage with some tape once he’s finished. He looks up at Jimin and smiles, reaching up to brush his hair off his forehead.

Jimin thinks, fleetingly, that Jungkook is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Thank you,” Jimin says softly, pulling his leg back a little bit, out of Jungkook’s hands. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow. They’re closed by now.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, looking at Jimin for a couple beats longer than usual before shaking his head a little and rising to his feet. “You never ate your dinner, did you?” he asks, eyebrows raising in realization. “Do you have any appetite?”

“Yeah, I should eat.”

Jungkook heats up Jimin’s meal again, which is quite easy to do, since it’s still sitting in the microwave where he left it. He brings it to Jimin on a tray, along with a pair of chopsticks. Jimin’s stomach immediately starts growling at the sight of his food—he’d forgotten how hungry he was before he got hurt.

“Thank you,” Jimin says again, mouth full of rice. “Ugh. I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot over the next couple of days.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Jungkook says. “Please don’t feel bad about letting me help you. Let’s not forget the massive favor you’re doing me by letting me stay here. And you’re not even letting me pay you any rent… so.”

“Of course I’m not letting you pay me any rent. That would be ridiculous. And if you try to get sneaky and hide cash in my house, I will catch onto you. Don’t think I forgot what you did after the trip to Jeju.”

They had planned a friends’ trip to Jeju Island—Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung and Seokjin—right before Jungkook lost his job a couple of years ago. Everyone decided to pitch in a little extra so that Jungkook could still come, and a few months after the trip, once he had started working at the veterinary hospital where he still works now, he’d hidden money in everyone’s apartments after they all refused to accept anything from him. Taehyung found cash inside the airtight container where he kept his dog food, and it took him two weeks to figure out where it came from.

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head and winking at Jimin—although it really looks more like he’s blinking at him, since he doesn’t actually know how to wink. This is one of the thousands of small things that Jimin finds terribly endearing about him.

“You know me well enough to know that I’d never rely on the same scheme twice,” Jungkook says. “That would be a rookie mistake.”

Jimin smiles at him, but his voice is serious. “You don’t need to scheme. I can’t take your money. You’re like family to me. Okay?”

Jungkook sighs, pouting a little. “Okay.”

Jungkook stays, just like he said he would, and they decide to binge-watch While You Were Sleeping. It’s a legal drama they’ve already watched together years ago. They had originally put it on in search of a distraction, expecting it would most likely be too cheesy for their tastes, but they both ended up hooked on the plot, which is filled with twists and turns. 

Watching it together again now brings Jimin right back to that time: Jimin had been stressed with the heavy workload for his MBA, too much on top of his full-time job, and Jungkook was overwhelmed with his veterinary school course load. They could both feel that they were dangerously on the brink of burnout, and they decided to take a single night off from all their responsibilities, turning a blind eye to their anxiety, if only until the sunrise. 

Jungkook had come over to Jimin’s tiny apartment, and they sat together on his old, beat-up couch, eating fried chicken and watching the drama on TV. By the time they fell asleep, thoroughly distracted from their worries, it was past 4AM, and Jimin’s head was in Jungkook’s lap, cheek pressed against the soft flannel of his pajama pants, the blue light of the television softly illuminating them both. Jungkook had fallen asleep sitting up.

The scene is rather different now: Jimin’s apartment isn’t hardly as cramped. His velvet sectional sofa is comfortable and spacious, and there’s enough room for him to sprawl out with his ankle propped on a pillow on the chaise end, Jungkook curled up under a fleece blanket on the other side where he usually sleeps, plenty of space between them. 

Both of them are blonde now, not dark-haired like they were back then, and Jungkook’s grown out his hair long enough to pull the top part into a ponytail. Jimin’s wardrobe is entirely different now, too—gone are the stiff button-ups and ties from that time in his life, traded in for soft sweaters as soon as he left the corporate world. 

As Jimin thinks back to that moment, feeling a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he steals a glance at Jungkook, whose eyes are focused on the TV screen. Although years have passed since the old memory, he realizes that he doesn’t feel any differently towards Jungkook now, despite the passage of time. He’s still the same shining dream in Jimin’s life, the same steady source of comfort that keeps him afloat through every season. 

If anything has changed, it’s only that Jimin loves him more. It’s a love that has wedged itself deep into his heart. It lights him up in a way that he doesn’t know how to turn away from.

And tonight, if only for a night, he decides to ignore that Jungkook isn’t his to keep. Just until the sunrise, he’ll stop fighting the feeling. He’ll let himself enjoy it: the warmth, the comfort, the peace of having Jungkook by his side.

It’s a feeling that he needs to learn how to let go of. A feeling that he knows he can’t keep clutching onto forever. 

But he’ll allow himself to forget all that for a little while—just until the sun rises. 

——— 

A few weeks after Jungkook moves in, he comes up with a horrible, terrible idea.

But of course Jimin can’t tell him that.

They’re sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch together when Jungkook looks up at him, a little shy, and says, “Hey. I was thinking…” 

“Mmm?” Jimin prompts, his mouth too full to speak. 

“I always go over to Seojoon’s, and he never comes over here. Which, like, makes sense, since this isn’t really my place, but I was wondering… would it be okay to have him over for dinner tonight?”

Jimin blinks at him, fighting to keep a neutral expression.

“I don’t want to intrude, so if you don’t want him to come over, it’s fine,” Jungkook rushes to add. “It’s just—you’ve never really hung out with him, and it’s… kind of important to me that you like him, you know? I want you to have a chance to get to know him.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Jimin says, chewing slowly. “Of course he can come over. I don’t want you to feel like you’re a guest here or have to ask permission to do stuff. You can have whoever you want over anytime.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, sounding surprised for some reason. “Great. I’ll text him and ask if he can come.”

“I can make plans with Tae or something if you want the place to yourself,” Jimin adds, scrambling for a way out of this. “I’m sure I could even crash at his place if you wanted privacy—”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, no. I… part of the reason I wanted him to come over here was so we could all hang out together. I don’t want you to leave.”

Jimin forces a smile, pondering the variety of options in his mind that would be preferable to spending the evening as Jungkook and Seojoon’s third wheel. Listening to a baby cry nonstop on an international flight? Hours of medevial torture? Death?

“That sounds fun,” Jimin says.

“Cool,” Jungkook says, looking so happy that it makes Jimin feel slightly uncomfortable. “I can cook dinner. Maybe bibimbap? I’ll need to go to the grocery store.”

“Sure,” Jimin agrees. “Just let me know what time so I can be ready.”

Seojoon does accept the invitation, much to Jimin’s disappointment, and they set the plans for six o’clock. As grumpy as Jimin feels about the whole thing, he realizes this might just be the way things are going to be from now on. Maybe this is a good chance for him to start trying to get used to it.

It looks like Seojoon is a punctual individual, because right at 5:59, the doorbell rings. 

Jimin remains seated on the couch, unsure what to do with himself as Jungkook leaps up and walks over to answer the door.

He peers over hesitantly as the door opens. Seojoon is so tall that it looks like he might have to duck just to make it through. 

“Hi,” Jungkook says, stepping aside to let Seojoon enter. 

“Hi, baby,” Seojoon says, hands finding Jungkook’s waist as he steps through the threshold. He leans over and kisses him chastely.

Jimin feels slightly ill.

He clears his throat, rising from the sofa. Jungkook glances over to him, looking somewhat nervous. 

“Jimin,” Seojoon says, sparing Jungkook the need for an introduction. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jimin tells him. 

“I appreciate you inviting me over. Wow, this is a really nice place,” Seojoon says, glancing around the living room: the velvet sofa, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the tasteful art hung on the walls—half of which is by Taehyung.

“Thank you.”

“And here I was thinking you were slumming it while you were waiting for the renovations to be done,” Seojoon says to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. 

“He’s not,” Jimin says, forcing a smile.

“I think Jimin hyung’s couch is actually more comfortable than my bed was,” Jungkook says. “I’m sure I’ll have to replace the bed anyway, so I’ll definitely have higher standards this time around.”

“Your bed was really uncomfortable though,” Seojoon whines. “I told you that.”

“Would you like anything to drink?” Jimin pipes up, eager to steer the conversation away from Seojoon’s intimate knowledge of Jungkook’s mattress. “Wine? Soju?”

“Wine sounds great.”

Jimin agrees. He’s going to need at least a few glasses to survive this evening.

Seojoon seems quite interested to hear about Jimin and his life, and while Jungkook cooks dinner, he spends that time asking Jimin approximately 37 different questions about himself and his livelihood. Jimin offers to help Jungkook in the kitchen multiple times, trying to weasel his way out of the conversation, but Jungkook waves him off each time.

“So you’re a professor?” Seojoon asks, looking intimidatingly sharp in his white button-down.

“I am,” Jimin says. “I’ve been teaching for about two years now.”

“Jungkook told me you used to work at a big marketing agency.”

Jimin nods. “I spent the first several years of my career doing that, but I eventually decided it wasn’t for me.”

“Corporate life isn’t for everyone, that’s for sure.”

“Do you practice corporate law?”

Seojoon shakes his head. “No, far from it. Family law. I primarily defend women and children who are trying to escape from bad situations. I work for a firm that takes on many of those types of cases pro bono.”

Jimin sighs. Why is he making it so difficult to hate him?

“That sounds like it must be very fulfilling.”

“It is. The main reason I went into law is because I wanted to help people, so it was important to me that I was helping the right people. It can be really stressful, really long hours, a lot of high pressure situations… but it’s worth it. I really enjoy it.”

“You and Jungkook have that in common,” Jimin says. “I always wonder how he manages to handle the pressure of his job.”

“I’d say his is even more stressful than mine,” Seojoon says, glancing over at Jungkook fondly. “I can’t speak for him, but the payoff of knowing you helped someone—or even saved their life—makes all the pressure and anxiety feel worth it in the end. Meaningful impact doesn’t come easily. There’s usually some struggle along the way.”

Jimin hums in agreement, swirling the wine around the bottom of his glass. 

“How is your dog?” Jimin asks, mentally filing through his brain, searching for non-awkward conversational topics. “I heard about how you guys met—is your dog doing better now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojoon says. “That’s sweet of you to ask. She’s doing fine. It wasn’t anything life-threatening—she just has a bit of arthritis in her hip, so for a while, she had to come in for a weekly shot to help lubricate everything in there. Now she just gets it once a month.”

“Ah, I see. That’s great news.”

“Do you have any pets?” Seojoon asks, glancing around the apartment.

“Nope. Haru’s staying here, now, of course, but technically I’m not allowed to have any because of my lease.”

“That’s a shame. Do you like animals?”

“I love them. I haven’t had any pets since I moved out of my parents’ place and left for university, though. I get to hear lots of animal stories from Jungkook, but sometimes I do wish I had one of my own.”

Seojoon smiles. “I love hearing his stories, too.”

As if on cue, Haru appears in the living room and freezes, staring at Seojoon and Jimin with her giant, crystal-blue eyes. Her tail swishes back and forth nervously. 

“Hi, Haru,” Seojoon says, crouching down and reaching out his hand. “I missed you.”

Haru walks over and hesitantly sniffs Seojoon’s hand for a brief moment, but when he reaches out to pet her, she sidesteps him and heads over to Jimin instead. She paces back and forth in front of his legs, brushing up against them and nuzzling her head into his calves, purring softly.

“Rejected,” Seojoon jokes, getting back up and brushing off his pants. “Looks like she’s taken a liking to you.”

“I think she’s finally starting to get settled in here. It took a little while.”

“Are you talking about my precious baby?” Jungkook asks, walking in from the kitchen, wearing a red apron tied tightly over his light blue sweater. His nose scrunches a little when he sees Haru weaving between Jimin’s legs.

“The one and only,” Seojoon says.

Jungkook swoops down and grabs her, picking her up and cradling her in his arms like a baby. She goes limp, stretching out her legs in surrender.

“Dinner is basically ready,” he informs them, scratching the fur on Haru’s belly.

“Thank you,” Seojoon says, stepping in and leaning down to kiss Jungkook on the cheek. 

“I need more wine,” Jimin declares, ducking around them both and seeking out the half-empty bottle in the kitchen. 

As the evening progresses, with the cushion of alcohol, Jimin manages to survive the night. Seojoon is rather pleasant, despite Jimin’s preconceived notions that he would most likely be a pompous jackass. And he doesn’t stay late—he lingers after dinner for one more glass of wine, but he ends up leaving around 9. 

Which is good, because that’s when Jimin’s mask inevitably begins to wear off. 

Thinking about Jungkook and Seojoon together was one thing, but actually seeing them together? It stirred up emotions in him that he wasn’t prepared to feel. 

He plastered on a pleasant face as he watched Jungkook laugh and cling to Seojoon, eyes glittering with happiness every time Seojoon looked his way or made a sweet remark. But on the inside, Jimin felt like he was being torn apart, shredded to bits with every loving glance.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Jungkook happy. Actually, seeing Jungkook happy is probably the most important thing to him in the entire world. 

The problem is that he’s not the one making Jungkook happy, and he doesn’t know how to come to terms with that.

“Did you like him?” Jungkook asks him a little while later, putting away the last of the clean dishes in the kitchen.

“Of course,” Jimin says, wiping at a grease spot on the counter for a little longer than is probably necessary. “I can tell he makes you happy.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again. Jimin barely notices, still rubbing mindlessly at the counter.

“I was lonely for a long time,” Jungkook says.

You didn’t have to be, Jimin thinks. I’m right here.

“I’m glad you’re not anymore,” Jimin says instead, tossing the dishrag to the side. “It’s good to see you happy.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jimin forces a smile. “I’m pretty tired. I’m gonna go to bed early, I think.”

Jungkook glances at the clock with wide eyes. “You okay? It’s way early for you.”

“I’m okay,” Jimin says, nodding in what he hopes is a convincing manner. “I think the wine just made me sleepy.”

“Okay. Goodnight, sleepyhead,” Jungkook says.

Jimin leaves the kitchen and heads down the hall to his bedroom, his throat burning. 

He had been doing alright—not allowing himself to think or feel, just for the sake of making it through the evening—but when Jungkook said he was lonely, it was like something cracked inside him. 

He closes his bedroom door behind him quietly, feeling invisible.

Hot tears silently stream down his face as he pulls his sweater over his head, wiping at his cheeks before he rustles through his dresser drawer and pulls out a shirt to sleep in. He slides his jeans off, then crawls into his bed, burying his face in his pillow.

I was lonely for a long time. 

The words play on a loop in Jimin’s mind as he quietly cries into his pillow, finally releasing all the pent-up emotion he’s been trying to bury ever since Jungkook came to stay with him. 

Crying makes him feel worse, somehow—instead of feeling lighter, he just feels pathetic and sad and unwanted and utterly, entirely ridiculous.

And the worst thing about it is that usually, Jungkook would be the one to comfort him when he’s upset. Despite the thin wall separating them, Jimin feels a million miles away.

He reaches out to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, blinking tears away in the darkness. He’s got to do something about this. He’s got to get over this somehow.

It might be time to ask someone besides Taehyung for advice.

——— 

“I don’t think I’ve seen the sun in three days,” Namjoon says, curled up in the armchair in Jimin’s living room, wearing a grey sweatshirt and black joggers. He somehow still looks thoroughly intellectual, despite the sporty ensemble, wire-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“That’s not healthy,” Jimin chides. “You need vitamin D.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. Anyway, I’m just trying to say that this was nice. It gave me an excuse to escape my writing dungeon. And it’s been forever since I saw you.”

Jimin, still off work for the summer, had invited Namjoon to come over while Jungkook was at the clinic.

“Good,” Jimin says, sinking into the couch with a mug of tea in his hands. “I need your help with something.”

Namjoon rubs his hands together. “Okay, hit me.”

Jimin swallows, gearing himself up for the confession. “Can’t we talk about you first?”

“I have a feeling whatever you need help with is more important, considering you literally summoned me to your home for an in-person consultation.”

“I’m in love with Jungkook,” Jimin blurts out, staring down at his tea.

Namjoon is silent. Jimin slowly glances up at him, expecting to see shock or disbelief, or possibly Namjoon toppling out of his chair.

Instead, Namjoon is staring at him with a perfectly neutral expression.

“Are you… are you not…” Jimin says. “Are you going to say something?”

“It seems like you are expecting me to be surprised by this information.”

Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “Please tell me it’s not that obvious.”

Namjoon chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking. “I don’t think it is to Jungkook, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s different when you’re the one involved. But to me, yes. I’ve known for years.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I figured if you wanted to talk to me about it, you would.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you about it. I just didn’t want to make it into… a thing.”

Namjoon nods. “Talking about it makes it real.”

“Taehyung is the only one I’ve told. Do the others know, too?”

“The only one I’ve discussed it with is Seokjin—at his prompting, not mine—and he seemed to have noticed as well. I’m not sure about the others.”

Jimin is silent. 

This is so embarrassing.

“Why did you want to talk to me about it today, Jiminie?”

Jimin takes a deep breath. “I need help figuring out how to get over him.”

Namjoon hums. “I worried about this when he started dating, when I heard he was moving in… I didn’t want to bring it up, like I said, but I’ve been worried about how it would impact you.”

“I think I underestimated it, too. Having him here all the time is challenging enough, but with Seojoon in the picture, it’s been… a lot. I just feel like I’m at a crossroads, where I need to do something about it, but I don’t know what.”

“And you won’t tell him.” 

It’s a statement, not a question.

“I won’t,” Jimin says. “Before, it was always because I was afraid he didn’t feel the same way… it’s different now, though. This situation has made me realize I should have told him a long time ago, but it’s too late at this point. Telling him now, when he’s with somebody else, asking him to choose me… it wouldn’t be fair to him at all.”

Namjoon nods. “You’re right.”

“But I feel stuck, like I’m out of options. I need to move on, but I don’t know how. I literally have no idea what to do.”

“In my experience, it’s really only possible to move on when that person isn’t in your life anymore,” Namjoon says quietly. 

Jimin shakes his head vehemently. “No.”

“I know. I don’t want that for you, either. I’m just saying… it’s going to be difficult. I don’t have an easy answer.” 

“I’m just tired of feeling so… consumed by this, you know? I feel like an idiot. He chose someone else. Being so hung up over him just makes me feel pathetic,” Jimin says, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “This whole situation is so embarrassing.”

Namjoon softens. “It’s not pathetic, Jimin. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. You’ve been in love with him for years. It’s understandable to feel the way you do. Having difficulty moving on doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

Jimin wipes at his eyes. “Okay.”

“I understand you’re an emotional person and you’re mainly ruled by your heart. But it’s important to remember that even if you feel consumed, there’s more to you than these feelings. There’s still a you in there. Something that might help you move on is paying more attention to yourself. Being kinder to yourself. Instead of funnelling all your love into Jungkook, why don’t you show yourself some love, too?”

“I don’t know if I know how to do that,” Jimin says, pulling his legs up on the sofa and wrapping his arms around them. He rests his chin on his knees. 

“You’ve always cared too much about everyone else,” Namjoon tells him. “Not just Jungkook, but all of us. I think it’s easy to lose yourself in that. You’re always so worried about everyone else being happy… making sure we’re all okay. But it’s more important that you’re okay, Jimin. I worry that over the years, I haven’t done a good enough job of helping make sure that you were… or the rest of the guys, either.”

“Jungkook always does,” Jimin says. “That’s why this is so weird for me. He’d usually be the first one I come to with any problem. But I can’t come to him with this. I think he can sense something is wrong, but I’ve had to lie to him and say I’m fine.”

“I’m glad that you came to me,” Namjoon says. “You shouldn’t have to bear this alone.”

Jimin smiles a sad smile. “Thank you, Namjoonie hyung.”

Haru hops up on the couch, curling up by Jimin’s side. He reaches out to pet her soft fur as she eyes Namjoon with suspicion.

“I still think you need to focus on you,” Namjoon says softly. “Spend some time doing things you enjoy doing. Be a little selfish. For so long, you’ve worried about how to make him happy. You deserve to be happy, too.”

Jimin knows Namjoon is right. When he thinks about himself, about who he is, he thinks about his relationship to the other people he loves: his friends, his brother, his parents. Jungkook. Those connections are what makes his life meaningful. Love has always been at the center of his life. But somewhere along the way, it feels like maybe he’s lost his own identity.

He’s not sure if finding it again will actually help him get over Jungkook, but it seems like a good thing to do regardless.

Later that day—after Namjoon has left, but before Jungkook has come home from work—Jimin sits at the kitchen table with a notepad, turned to a blank page, pen in hand. He stares at it silently, nibbling on the pen cap.

After a moment, he scribbles a title at the top:

Things I like doing and should spend more time doing because I am important 

That was the easy part.

He ponders for a couple of minutes, eventually jotting down a few bullet points:

• Tennis
• Spending time with animals
• Baking

He stares at the list, blinking. If you don’t count the recent presence of Haru in his household, he hasn’t really spent any time doing any of those things in… years.

It should be easy enough to pick up those hobbies again. The gym he already has a membership at includes two indoor tennis courts, and baking is just a matter of picking up the ingredients and making the time to do it. He’s not entirely sure how to spend more time with animals, since it’s not like he can adopt a pet on his lease, but maybe he can ask Jungkook about that.

He pushes back his chair and rises from his seat, turning around to face the kitchen. He’s sort of tempted to start this mission right now, before he gets too overwhelmed and backs out entirely.

So he grabs an apron and pulls it over his green sweater, tying it snugly at the waist. Rummaging through the cupboards, he gathers the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies: flour, sugar, baking soda, chocolate chips, vanilla extract. There’s enough butter in the fridge to make a half-batch. He used to bake cookies so frequently that he could probably do this with his eyes closed, and he knows the recipe by heart.

He’s scooping the dough into balls and dropping them onto a cookie sheet when he hears the jangling of keys at the front door, and Jungkook enters a moment later, letting out a noise of delight when he sees what Jimin is doing. He must be coming from the gym—he’s got his gym bag with him, his hair is damp, and he looks a little sweaty. 

“Hi,” Jimin says, turning to wave at him briefly with his free hand before going back to his cookie-dropping. “How was your day?”

“It was good. Really long, though. I worked an hour later than I should have, and the gym was super busy, so it took me longer than usual to get in and out. And I forgot to pack a snack, so I’m hangry.”

Jimin rolls out another small ball of dough, but instead of dropping it onto the cookie sheet, he pulls a spoon out of a nearby drawer and places the dough ball on it. He spins around, holding it out for Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He grabs the spoon, shoving the entire thing in his mouth at once.

“Mmmm,” he says, mouth full of cookie dough. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

It takes all of Jimin’s best effort to not burst into laughter. 

God, his life is a mess. 

“No, I don’t believe you have,” Jimin says, unable to fight back the tiny smile that appears on his face as he drops the last ball of dough and transfers the sheet to the oven. 

“Have you not been baking as much recently? This is the first time I’ve seen you baking since I moved in.”

Jimin shakes his head. “I haven’t been, no, but I’m trying to intentionally spend more time doing things I enjoy.”

“Oh! I see. That sounds nice.”

“I actually need to ask you something related to that, but not now, if you need to do stuff first. You’ve barely made it through the door.”

 “Sure. I didn’t shower at the gym, so lemme just shower real quick. I feel gross. I won’t be long.”

Jimin nods in agreement, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Jungkook drops his bag near the door and heads down the hall, pulling his sweaty t-shirt over his head before he’s even made it to the bathroom, his back muscles rippling with the movement. 

Jimin glances away, his stomach fluttering at the sight.

“That was unnecessary,” Jimin scolds, glaring down at his belly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen him without a shirt before. Get a grip.”

He hears the shower turn on, then the metallic sound of the curtain being pulled back as Jungkook steps inside. 

Jimin sighs deeply.

He busies himself with loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters while Jungkook is in the shower, and he’s just finishing up with his tidying when Jungkook emerges from the bathroom some minutes later.

He’s wearing a clean t-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair is freshly towel-dried, hanging loosely in his face. He grabs a banana off the kitchen counter and tears into it like a starved animal.

“What did you want to ask me?” Jungkook asks between bites.

“Ah, right. So, I want to spend more time doing things that are… just for me. Things I like doing. And having Haru around made me remember how much I love animals. But I can’t get one, so… I was wondering if you had any ideas? Like, ways for me to spend time with animals? I feel like I’ll be really sad once Haru is gone.”

“Oh! Actually, I totally do,” Jungkook says, tossing his banana peel into the compost bin. “There was a girl in the clinic last week—she works at a big animal shelter that’s like ten minutes away from here. She was dropping off a few kittens to be spayed. We were chatting and she mentioned they are super desperate for volunteers. Maybe I could put you in touch with her?”

Genius. “I hadn’t even thought about an animal shelter. Do you know what that would involve, exactly?”

Jungkook nods. “Usually it would be walking the dogs, scooping litter boxes and feeding the cats, that kind of thing. But of course you’re able to pet them and play with them, too. I volunteered at a shelter in Busan when I was younger.” 

Jimin smiles. Of course he did.

“Yeah, please see if you can get me her number, or her email, or something. That sounds really great. Especially during the summer, when I don’t have much else to do.”

“You would be so great at it, too,” Jungkook tells him, now demolishing two hard-boiled eggs he’s fetched from the refrigerator. “Animals are drawn to you. They always seem to trust you immediately. Even Haru loves you.”

“That’s not me, that’s you,” Jimin says, brushing him off. 

Jungkook smiles and scrunches his nose. “Whatever you say. Anyway, I think this will be really good for you. I’ll pull her info when I’m at the clinic tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, stretching his arms above his head as he yawns. He’s had a long day, too, and his conversation with Namjoon feels like it was a week ago, not earlier this morning.

“What’s the story behind this goal of doing things? Is it just something you decided to do, or did something prompt you…?”

“Ah,” Jimin begins, pausing. “It sparked... from a conversation with Namjoon, actually. He came over and hung out for a bit while you were at work.”

Jungkook makes a sad grumbly noise, and then he pouts, poking out his bottom lip. “Namjoon was here?! Ah, man, I haven’t seen him in like two or three weeks. I’m so bummed. I wish he would have come over when I was home.”

That would not have been a very conducive environment to confess my overwhelming feelings for you and strategize the best ways for me to forget all about them, Jimin thinks dryly.

“I’m sure he would come over again if you invited him,” Jimin says. “Don’t forget you can always invite over whoever you want. I don’t mind.”

Preferably not Seojoon, though, thank you.

“I know. I’ll always check with you first, though. You know that’s just… me.” Jungkook walks over to the couch and plops down in the middle, pulling his feet up under him and leaning back into the cushions. “Do you wanna hang out tonight?”

Jimin blinks at him. That’s an unusual question.

Of course, they spend a lot of time together. They live together. It’s sort of inevitable. But Jungkook doesn’t usually ask him to.

“Sure,” Jimin says neutrally, trying to mask how irrationally delighted he feels. “Are you not hanging out with Seojoon tonight?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nope.”

Jimin expects him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“Want a beer?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook nods. Jimin grabs two from the fridge, then joins Jungkook on the couch, sitting down a few feet away and handing him one.

“I was thinking about your mom today,” Jungkook says, cracking open his beer. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw her. There was a woman who brought in her rabbit today, and she reminded me of her so much.”

Jimin laughs, trying to visualize his mom with a pet rabbit. He can’t picture it. “What was it about her? The way she looked, or…?”

“It wasn’t a physical resemblance as much as it was just, like, her vibe. Maybe it was the way she talked, her mannerisms… I dunno. But it made me miss your mom terribly.”

“I miss her too. Maybe we should plan a trip back to Busan soon? We could drive together, see your parents and mine. I’ve been feeling a little homesick lately.”

Jungkook ponders that for a moment, and a shadow of something crosses his face so briefly that Jimin hardly picks up on it. “I’m not sure if I can get time off work anytime soon, but if I can, I would love that, hyung.”

“No pressure. Just let me know. I know you’re busy with the renovations and stuff, too.”

Jungkook nods. “I’ve started ordering new furniture this week. Things are getting pretty far along, enough that I’m able to have stuff delivered to the apartment now. I think it should only be a few more weeks until I’m out of your hair. Maybe even less.”

There’s a little twinge of pain in Jimin’s heart. 

He’s not ready to think about how quiet and lonely the apartment will feel once Jungkook is gone. Or the change in their relationship that it will symbolize. The letting go, once and for all.

No, he’s definitely not ready for that at all.

“You know I don’t mind having you here, though,” Jimin says, waving his hand. “It’s actually been kind of nice, not being alone.”

“Oh? I thought you liked living alone?”

Jimin nods. “I mean, I do. But I don’t think I realized how lonely it can be sometimes. I dunno what I’ll do once you’re gone and I have to get used to it again. Maybe I’ll start dating or something,” he says with a short, dry chuckle.

Jungkook doesn’t smile. “Well, it’ll still be a little while before I move out. And once I do, I can try to make a point of coming over more. We were bad about seeing each other before.”

“That’s true. But you’re so busy. Especially since—well, yeah.” Since Seojoon.

Jungkook hums. “I know. But honestly, hyung... it’s been really nice getting to hang out with you so much,” he says quietly, looking away. He picks at a loose thread on his sweatpants. “It’s nice being able to just… be myself.”

Jimin is half-tempted to press him on what he means by that, but he decides to let it go.

“Yeah, it’s been great,” Jimin says lightly. “What do you wanna do tonight? Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says, reaching out and grabbing the TV remote. “I can’t make any promises that I won’t fall asleep though. I feel like I’ve been awake for like… 24 hours.” 

“That’s fine,” Jimin says. “If you fall asleep, you’ll already be in bed.”

“True,” Jungkook says, laughing.

“You can pick. I don’t care what we watch.”

Jungkook chooses Captain Marvel—which is good, because if he had picked anything other than an Avengers movie, Jimin would have thought something really weird was going on with him. Something seems off about him tonight, but Jimin decides he’s probably just tired, like he said. And if it’s anything related to Seojoon, he doesn’t exactly trust himself to give unbiased advice, so he tells himself it’s better that he doesn’t poke the beehive.

Jungkook is mostly quiet as they watch the movie, but Jimin enjoys the silent company. That’s always been one of his favorite things about spending time with Jungkook: it’s perfectly relaxed, and neither of them feel pressured to fill the silence that might sometimes stretch between them. Even if they aren’t speaking, Jimin feels warmer, safer, lighter with Jungkook beside him. He always has.

About three quarters of the way into the movie, Jimin can tell Jungkook is starting to fall asleep. His head is beginning to flop to the side, and he’s sunken so far down into the cushions that he’s practically laying down. 

“You awake?” Jimin asks, poking Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” Jungkook says unconvincingly. “Just sleepy. Gonna lie down.”

He swings his legs up on the couch, then turns and lies down to face the TV, his head landing on the same cushion where Jimin is sitting. The top of his head brushes lightly against Jimin’s thigh.

Jimin freezes for a moment, then takes a deep breath and tries to relax. “Is that comfortable?”

“Mmhmm,” Jungkook says, positioning his arm under his head to support it. “It’s fine.”

Ordinarily, he’d coax Jungkook’s head onto his lap and let him fall asleep there, like he used to do so frequently in their younger days. But something about the intimacy of that—it doesn’t feel right anymore. Not when Jungkook is someone else’s.

So Jimin lets him fall asleep where he is, hearing his breaths gradually even out, long and slow, fast asleep before the movie has ended. Jungkook has already seen it multiple times, so it doesn’t matter too much. 

When the movie is over, Jimin pushes himself up off the couch cartoonishly slow, trying not to wake him. He grabs both of their empty beer cans and brings them to the kitchen, then pads quietly back over to the living room in his socked feet, leaning over to grab Jungkook’s folded blanket from the other side of the couch where he usually sleeps. He shakes it out, gently placing it on top of Jungkook, then leans down to make sure his toes are underneath. 

Jimin fetches Jungkook’s pillow next, then crouches down so he’s hovering near Jungkook’s head.

“Head up,” Jimin murmurs quietly, sliding the pillow towards Jungkook. Jungkook groans a little, not really waking up, but he lifts his head up just enough for Jimin to slide the pillow underneath.

And Jimin should get up now, should head down the hall and get ready for bed—but he can’t help it. He hovers for a moment, still crouched on the ground in front of where Jungkook sleeps, eyes fixed on his face.

Jungkook has a sort of frantic, nervous energy whenever he’s awake, constantly fidgeting and bouncing around. But asleep, it’s like peace finally overtakes him, allowing his mind and body to rest. His breathing is slow and even, dark lashes fanning across his cheeks, his lips pursed in a tiny pout.

And Jimin can’t deny himself this: he reaches out, gently brushing Jungkook’s long hair out of his eyes. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers, tugging the blanket further up Jungkook’s shoulders before he gets up and heads off to bed.

——— 

Over the next few weeks, as Jungkook picks out new furniture for his house and prepares to move back in, Jimin tries not to think about it too much, instead focusing on the activities he’s decided to pour himself into.

Hoseok was on the varsity tennis team when they were in university, so he’s overjoyed when Jimin calls him up and asks him to be his new tennis buddy. They decide to meet twice a week at the gym—where, conveniently enough, Hoseok already has a membership as well—and although Hoseok reliably kicks Jimin’s ass every single time, whacking around a ball for an hour ends up being a surprisingly effective way to release some frustration.  

What ends up being even more therapeutic than the tennis itself is the dedicated weekly time with Hoseok. His positive energy is so ridiculously infectious that Jimin can’t help but be in a good mood by the time they’re finished, no matter how horribly he loses. And it’s pretty rare that the two of them get a chance to hang out one-on-one, despite being roommates for a year back in their university days, so spending all this time together feels nostalgic in a way that’s very comforting to Jimin.

Jungkook looked up the contact information for the girl who worked at the animal shelter, like he promised he would, and when Jimin got in touch with her, she was overjoyed to hear from a potential volunteer. After learning more about what the responsibilities would entail, Jimin volunteered to come in twice a week during the remainder of the summer—which is only for a few more weeks—and then he’ll reduce that to once a week after classes start up again.

It’s his new favorite thing in the entire world. Although he helps with both the dogs and cats, the majority of his time is spent with the cats—feeding them, cleaning their litter boxes and wiping out their cages, brushing the long-haired ones, playing with them and making sure they’re getting enough love and attention. 

Because his lease doesn’t allow him to have pets, he doesn’t face the dangerous risk of falling in love with every animal he meets and subsequently bringing them home. And that’s a good thing, because otherwise, there are at least four cats who would probably be chilling at his apartment with Haru by now. 

There is one particular kitty who stands out from the rest, though. Jimin’s all-time favorite is Dae, a charming cross-eyed Siamese cat who’s been at the shelter the whole time Jimin has been volunteering, although Jimin has no idea why he hasn’t been adopted yet. He’s ridiculously affectionate and loves to sit in Jimin’s lap, purring at a louder volume than Jimin has ever heard from a cat, nudging his face into Jimin’s palm and demanding attention. 

The only reason Jimin can think of in order to explain his extended stay would because he’s a bit older—at seven years old, younger cats and kittens are more appealing to most potential adopters. 

If Jimin’s being honest with himself, he is getting a little attached to Dae. He starts meowing at the top of his lungs as soon as Jimin walks through the door, so it’s hard not to be. Another volunteer mentioned that they’d never even heard Dae meow before, not until he saw Jimin for the first time.

But Jimin can’t adopt him, so he tries not to develop too much of an emotional attachment. He would be lying to himself, though, if he pretends that Dae isn’t the first cat he looks for every time he arrives at the shelter each week.

He’s diligent about spending time baking, too, fishing out his old cookbooks from the dusty boxes he’d shoved in the hall closet, exploring recipes he always wanted to try but had never gotten around to. Cookies, cakes, cheesecakes, pancakes, bread… he’s experimenting with all of those and more.

The apartment is now filled with delicious aromas on a daily basis, and Jungkook has been complaining that he has to hit the gym extra-hard lately in order to not gain weight from all the treats that have been at his disposal. Usually, Jimin would bring the goodies into work, but since he’s still off for the summer, he sends leftovers into the clinic with Jungkook. The staff there are now completely enamored with him, despite most of them never having met him before.

After a few weeks of this, Jimin wakes up mid-morning on a weekday and heads out to the kitchen, intending to make some coffee, when he discovers a bundle wrapped in white tissue paper on the counter. There’s a tiny notecard resting on top of it. 

Noticed your old one had holes in it! If you’re going to keep fattening me up, I figured you might need a new one. —JK 

Jimin laughs out loud, unwrapping the paper and pulling out the folded bundle of fabric inside. He holds it out, letting it unfold in front of him. It’s an expensive-looking apron, cream-colored with thin grey stripes, made of thick cotton. On the chest, tiny initials are embroidered right in the center: JM.

“This is too much,” Jimin murmurs incredulously, rubbing the apron between his fingers. “What’s gotten into him?” 

He grabs his phone and shoots off a quick text: Thank you for the apron!!! That was totally unnecessary, but very sweet of you.

Jungkook texts back a few minutes later: Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do to say thank you for how much you’ve helped me.

Jimin shakes his head, and he can feel his cheeks flushing in response to the kind gesture, although he tries not to think about it too deeply. He was planning on having a quick and easy breakfast, but his new apron is beckoning him, so he pulls it over his head and starts pulling out ingredients to bake muffins.

Cracking eggs into a bowl, he can’t help but think about Jungkook. 

Jimin can’t deny it—over the past month, investing time in himself and distracting himself with things that he enjoys, he’s definitely felt less sad overall. But he doesn’t love Jungkook any less. The feelings haven’t dulled. He hasn’t moved on… not at all.

To be fair, he wasn’t really expecting to.

It feels like Jungkook has been talking about Seojoon less recently, hardly ever bringing him up in conversation, but Jimin can’t tell if it’s because he’s become desensitized to the topic, or if the frequency has actually lessened. Jimin’s not allowing himself to read into it—Jungkook still spends multiple nights per week hanging out with Seojoon, sometimes even staying the night.

Jimin thinks that sends a pretty clear message.

So he bakes, and he plays tennis, and he scoops cat poop, day after day, hoping to continue easing his burden. And although there are rare instances, late at night, usually when Jungkook isn’t home, when Jimin crumbles—when the tears come, when his longing crushes his chest like a heavy weight—it’s not as frequent now. He’s mostly okay. 

He’s learning to live for himself.

——— 

“I don’t think you understand, Jiminie. This man was the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. As soon as he spoke to me, I immediately became so overwhelmed that I was convinced I would die.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the exact same thing you said about the last guy you went home with,” Jimin says. He’s sprawled out on his couch, talking to Taehyung on the phone.

“My standards were lower then. I hadn’t met this one yet.”

“I see. How was he?”

“Not as much stamina as I would have preferred, but the jury’s still out. I’ll give him another chance when he’s sober.”

“That seems only fair,” Jimin says, laughing.

“Not to say this influenced my decision at all, but his brother works at the national art gallery.”

“You really waited this long to tell me that, huh?”

“But that’s not why! I only found out after he was balls-deep down my—”

“Stop,” Jimin commands, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Did he know who you were?”

“He... did,” Taehyung says hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t fault you. You’ve been trying to get a piece into that museum for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s not why I—”

Jimin bursts into laughter. “I know. I’m just messing with you.”

“I do have his brother’s business card, now, though, so…”

Jimin glances up, hearing the sound of keys jangling outside the front door. It’s unexpected—Jungkook wouldn’t typically be home from work for another few hours, at least. But a moment later, the door opens, and Jungkook steps through. 

At the sight of him, Jimin nearly drops his phone. 

Jungkook closes the door with shaking hands, paler than Jimin has ever seen him, save for his bright red nose that gives away the fact he’s been crying.

“Sorry, Taehyungie, I’ve gotta go,” Jimin says quickly. “Call you later.”

Jimin hangs up, then rises off the couch, taking a step towards Jungkook.

He’s toeing his shoes off at the door, looking like a zombie, his eyes focused a million miles away.

“Hey,” Jimin says cautiously, tilting his head. “You okay?”

It takes Jungkook a few moments to respond, blinking slowly as he slides out of the white lab coat he’s wearing over his scrubs. 

“I’m… n-no, I’m really not,” he says, his voice cracking. 

“Hey, hey,” Jimin says, rushing towards him. He grabs Jungkook by the arm, tugging him towards the couch. “It’s okay. Come sit down.”

Jungkook follows him, sinking down onto the cushion beside him, immediately leaning forward and cradling his head in his hands.

Jimin reaches over to rub his back, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Bad day.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Jungkook says. His face crumples behind his hands.

“Oh, honey,” Jimin murmurs, moving closer to him. “What happened?”

“A dog,” Jungkook chokes out. Jimin keeps rubbing his back, calm and steady. “I’ve been seeing her since she was a puppy. Her whole life, she’s always had all these different problems, and she spent so much of her life in pain, but I-I always did my best to keep her comfortable and figure out the best treatment for her, no matter what was going on.”

“Of course,” Jimin says softly.

“She had surgery a couple of months ago to address this ongoing issue that had been plaguing her for years. It went so well… she recovered really quickly, and for basically the first time since I’ve known her, she was experiencing no pain. She looked s-so happy at her last check-up, it was like there was this clarity in her eyes I had never seen before.” Jungkook chokes back a sob. “I’m s-sorry—“

“No, no, it’s okay,” Jimin tells him. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too hard.”

“No, I should,” Jungkook says, wiping at his nose. “Her owners rushed her in today… she had a blood clot. It came out of nowhere, cut off the circulation to her back legs. She was healthy this morning and… t-there was nothing—there was nothing I could do. The damage was already done, and even the specialty hospital wouldn’t be able to treat it… I had to euthanize her, and I just—”

He starts full-on sobbing, then, and Jimin wraps both arms around him, pulling him closer. Jungkook sinks into his hold, burying his face in Jimin’s shoulder.

“I just c-can’t imagine,” Jungkook says. “I have to euthanize animals all the time, it’s part of my job to not be affected by these things, and I shouldn’t react like this, b-but something about this was just so… horrifically, cruelly sudden, and I can’t imagine how I would feel if it were me, if it were Haru, something so unexpected like that—”

Jimin combs through Jungkook’s hair with his fingers, soothing, finding it difficult to care about crossing inappropriate lines of intimacy right now. Not when Jungkook needs his support so badly.

“The way her owners just broke down,” Jungkook chokes out between sobs. “I’ve never witnessed such—just sheer, h-heartbreaking pain. They did so much for her, they loved her so much, and all they needed was for me to save her, they trusted me to do that, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You’re not a miracle worker,” Jimin reminds him quietly. “You can only do what science and medicine will allow. It was out of your control. I know you, and I know you did the best you could. I know you exhausted every option you could.”

Jimin’s heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, seeing Jungkook like this, but he doesn’t let it show.

“It doesn’t matter. I still—I still failed.”

Jimin shakes his head, squeezing Jungkook tighter. “You didn’t fail. You helped that dog all throughout her entire life. Making her better, taking away her pain. I know for sure that nobody out there would have done a better job at that than you did.”

Jimin keeps talking to him, rocking him back and forth. “You’re amazing at your job. Please don’t ever doubt that for one second. You were made for it. Your heart is so big, and you help so many families, so many animals... and you’re so good at it. I know that dog was in the absolute best place she could be today.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but after a little while, his sobs have quieted down, and it seems like he’s starting to catch his breath. His tears have soaked through the cotton of Jimin’s shirt, cool and damp against his skin. 

Jimin starts to pull away a little bit, but Jungkook’s grip on him tightens.

Jimin pauses, glancing down at the top of Jungkook’s head questioningly.

“Can you just…” Jungkook’s voice is small. “Can we just stay like this for a little while? Please?”

Jimin sighs, leaning back into the couch cushions and pulling Jungkook with him, letting him sink down further against his body. Jungkook turns his head, cheek pressed to Jimin’s chest.

“Of course,” Jimin murmurs, praying that his heartbeat won’t betray him, that it’ll remain slow and steady. “Whatever you want.”

“I had to leave early,” Jungkook says weakly. “It was so bad.”

“It’s okay. You’re only human. You’re usually so strong… that’s one of the things that is so amazing about you. But everyone has moments where they just can’t do it. It’s normal.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. Not even in vet school.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin repeats, fingers tracing soothing patterns across Jungkook’s back. He normally seems so big to Jimin, so broad and muscular and physically overpowering, but right now, Jungkook feels so small in his arms. “You did your best. I know you did.”

“I just feel so guilty,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

“It’s okay to feel how you feel. It’s okay to be upset. But you should harbor no guilt,” Jimin murmurs, his voice low and calming. 

As he holds him, Jimin can feel the tension draining from Jungkook’s shoulders, the high-strung panic giving way to resignation. Eventually, both of them are silent for a long time—Jimin just rubs his back, over and over again, listening to the quiet sound of his breathing.

They’ve always been this for each other: a rock to cling to in the stormy waves. To stay afloat, to keep from drowning. 

This is what Jimin knew he could never risk losing.

When Jungkook finally pulls away, he runs both hands through his hair, then down over his face, sighing.

“God. Sorry, hyung.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I feel like I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Nevermind. It’s okay. I just… thank you. I think I need to try to sleep this off or something.” His voice is hoarse.

“You’ve earned a nap, bub. There’s some bread I baked sitting on the kitchen counter, if you want a snack before you sleep.”

Jungkook sighs again. “I don’t deserve you at all.”

“Of course you do,” Jimin says simply.

I love you, he wishes he could say instead.

——— 

Summer turns to fall, Jimin’s classes start up again, and the time comes for Jungkook to move out.

He’ll be leaving on Friday, and at the beginning of the week, Jimin decides the best and safest course of action is to simply ignore that it’s happening completely.

He tells Seokjin exactly that, sharing a quick coffee over lunch at the university cafe before Jimin’s afternoon class is slated to begin.

“I was expecting you to be more sad,” Seokjin tells him, looking impossibly handsome, as usual, in a perfectly tailored brown tweed suit.

“I can’t be sad if I refuse to think about it or speak about it,” Jimin says cheerfully.

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Sure it is.”

“I just worry about you,” Seokjin says. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you, and being alone is hard. Maybe you should get a pet or something. As long as it’s not a tiny dog.” He shudders. “Haven’t you met one at the shelter that you like?”

Jimin nods. “This Siamese cat, his name is Dae. He’s been at the shelter forever, and I’ve totally fallen in love with him. But I already told you, hyung... my lease won’t let me. I’m not allowed to have pets.”

“Ah, sorry, I forgot. Can’t you bend the rules?”

“I don’t think so. I worry about how I’ll react if I go into the shelter and he’s been adopted, though. Every week when I get there, I rush over to his cage to make sure he’s still there. Jungkook asked me if I could adopt him, whether I would, and the answer is absolutely yes. But I guess it’s just… not meant to be right now.”

Seokjin frowns. “Great. Now I’m even more worried about you than I was before.”

Jimin bursts into laughter. “Sorry, hyung. I’m not trying to worry you. Honestly, I’m doing fine. Way better than I was a couple of months ago. I’ll be alright.”

“If you say so.”

He’s not lying. 

He’s just a bit unsure how to deal with the crossroads he’s about to face in only a few days’ time.

The next day of this week—the one which Jimin isn’t thinking about or acknowledging—is Tuesday, which is his new favorite day of the week, because he plays tennis with Hoseok in the mornings and volunteers at the shelter in the evening when he’s done work. 

He beats Hoseok, which he’s done maybe two or three times ever. Hoseok is confused and concerned by Jimin’s passion and fervor, asking him gently if everything is okay at home. Jimin assures him that it is.

His classes are fine—uneventful but productive. And when his classes are done, he stops for a coffee, then drives to the animal shelter, about twenty minutes away from the university’s campus, his leg excitedly jiggling up and down as he drives.

When he arrives, he scans himself in through the back doors using his volunteer badge and keycard. Another volunteer, Stella—who he’s only vaguely acquainted with—greets him on the other side, busy tidying one of the cat cages. 

“Hi, Stella,” Jimin greets her politely, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack near the door. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” she says, but Jimin only half-hears her, as he’s already taken off to check the cage near the end of the long row of cat cages—the cage he always checks first, week after week.

He slows down to stop, his stomach plummeting once the cage comes into his line of sight.

It’s empty.

“Stella,” Jimin says, calling to her from across the large space. “Where’s Dae?”

“Is that the Siamese guy?” she asks. “He got adopted, finally!”

Oh.

Jimin takes a deep breath. 

He should be happy. That cat waited so long for someone to love him. He deserves a happy home, even if it can’t be with Jimin. Jimin knows that, deep down, rationally.

But he can’t help the feeling he’s feeling—like his heart is cracking open inside him, just a little bit. Like something he loved was taken from him. Taken by somebody else. Somebody who doesn’t appreciate or understand or deserve it.

“Oh,” Jimin finally manages to respond. Stella is staring at him curiously. 

“You got attached, huh?” Stella asks, her voice sympathetic. “I’m sorry. It sucks when that happens.”

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles, forcing himself to turn away from Dae’s empty cage. He heads over to the supply closet, pulling out some rags and the cleaning spray he uses to wipe down the cages.

“I’m sure he’ll have a great home, though,” Stella says. “You should have seen the guy who adopted him. Not to be crude, but probably one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Like, ever. In my life. Anyway, he seemed really nice. You can just tell some people are animal people, you know? He was like that.”

Jimin sighs. He still feels gutted, but it does provide him with a little consolation to know Dae went home with someone who seemed kind.

The rest of his shift goes by in a blur, his body feeling weighed down by sadness. He tries to distract himself by playing with a new litter of stray kittens, five orange and calico babies who just arrived yesterday, but even the little squeaky balls of fur can only do so much to cheer him up.

On his way home, he stops at the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine. He probably just needs to have a good cry and then he’ll feel better.

As he browses the selection of white and red, he remembers what’s happening in three days, and decides to make it two bottles. The cashier has the audacity to ask him if he’s celebrating something.

He drives home in the dark, raindrops gently spattering the windshield, then parks in his car in the parking garage and heads up the elevator and down the hall. He’s distracted by his phone, texting Taehyung, as he fumbles with his keys and unlocks the apartment door.

When the door swings open, he’s greeted by a pair of cross-eyed blue eyes.

He freezes, staring at the cat in shock. Dae meows twice in quick succession, like he’s saying “hello”.

He tears his gaze away and upwards to find Jungkook standing behind the kitchen counter with a very nervous expression on his face. 

“Surprise?” Jungkook says hesitantly.

Jimin bursts into tears.

“Oh no,” Jungkook says, rushing towards him. “Should I not have—”

Jimin scoops Dae up into his arms, burying his face in his fur. Dae immediately starts purring, apparently unalarmed by Jimin’s loud wailing.

“I don’t understand,” Jimin sniffles, hesitantly removing his tear-streaked face from the cat and peering at Jungkook, who is now standing in front of him, looking very concerned. “You adopted him?”

Jungkook nods. “I did. I’m not really considering him to be mine, though. I guess you can think of me like a foster. I’ll keep him as long as you’re not able to, but if or when you move to a place that lets you have pets, you can take him. He’s yours. I’ve just got him for safe-keeping.”

“You did that for me?” Jimin asks, incredulous. Dae just stares up at him, unblinking, still rumbling like a motor.

“I mean… yeah. Of course I did. But was it okay? I wasn’t expecting you to, like, uh, you know,” Jungkook gestures vaguely with his hands. “Have a breakdown.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jimin says, shaking his head. “I was just… when I saw his cage at the shelter was empty tonight, I was really upset. Even more upset than I thought I would be. So I was feeling really emotional about it, and… I was just really surprised. That’s all.”

Jungkook frowns. “I probably should have planned the timing better. I wanted to surprise you, obviously, but I forgot you would be going into the shelter tonight. I’m sorry. I totally didn’t think about the fact you would have assumed he got adopted by someone else. I’m an idiot.”

“It’s really fine,” Jimin says, finally releasing Dae from his arms. He hops down gracefully, then saunters over to the living room, sprawling on the carpet in front of the couch. 

Jimin’s still processing. He can’t believe this. 

“So you’ll take him with you on Friday?” Jimin asks, wiping at his eyes. “God, sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, laughing. “Yes, I’ll take him on Friday. I figured it was okay for him to stay here for right now, since it’ll only be a couple of days.” He steps forward. “Please give me a hug. I feel bad.”

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. “You should not feel bad. You just did the most incredible thing. I’m so happy. Please don’t feel bad.” 

He opens his arms, and Jungkook steps in, wrapping his arms tightly around Jimin’s waist. It only lasts a second before he pulls away, but the contact is enough to make Jimin dizzy: the solid weight of Jungkook’s body against him, his breezy, clean-laundry scent, his soft hair brushing against Jimin’s cheek.

The fact that he’s been able to survive two months of this is a miracle.

“I could just tell from the way that you talked about him that you had fallen in love with him,” Jungkook says, his gaze roaming to where Dae is lounging on the floor. “I figured you would probably be heartbroken if he got adopted. And I didn’t want to see you heartbroken. So.”

Jimin’s almost tempted to laugh at the irony of that.

You’ve already been seeing me heartbroken. This whole time. 

He glosses over it. “Hey, where’s Haru?” Jimin asks, not seeing her anywhere. “Have they been introduced?”

“She’s shut in your bedroom right now. I hope that’s okay. The best way to introduce cats is to do it gradually. I let them sniff each other through the door a bit, and it seems like they’ll get along just fine, but I wanted to give him a chance to get adapted before having to deal with her too.”

“That makes sense. You think she’ll be okay with him?”

“It’ll be a bit of an adjustment for her, but I’ve fostered kittens every now and then, and she never seemed to mind, so I don’t think she’ll have any problem with having company. It’ll be nice for her to not be alone while I’m at work. I think she gets a little bored.”

She’s been known to ram her head into the wall repeatedly when she’s bored, so preventing her boredom is probably a good thing.

“I’ll probably swap their rooms when I go to bed,” Jimin muses out loud. “Put Haru back out here with you, and Dae in my room with me.”

“Oh, I won’t be here tonight,” Jungkook says. He looks a little apologetic. Jimin wishes he didn’t. 

“Staying at Seojoon’s?” Jimin asks, keeping his voice light.

Jungkook nods.

“Have fun. I’ll just hang out with your growing herd of cats while you’re gone.”

He laughs, his nose scrunching. “Two hardly makes a herd.”

“I think it does.”

“Let’s hope your landlord stays out of our hair for at least three more days. I’d prefer the herd of cats remain undiscovered.”

Three more days.

Jimin sighs.

Jungkook doesn’t head over to Seojoon’s place until after dinner. Once he’s gone, Jimin carefully transplants Haru into the bathroom, then moves Dae into his bedroom, and releases Haru once Dae is successfully contained. It was a long day, and all Jimin really wants to do is crawl into bed.

After he takes a shower, changes into his pajamas and dims the bedroom lights, Jimin throws back his bedcovers and climbs in, sighing as the soft material makes contact with his skin. There’s no better feeling than getting into bed when you’re exhausted.

And it only takes Dae about thirty seconds to compute Jimin’s new location. He hops up on the bed, meowing once, briefly, before he starts kneading the blanket at Jimin’s feet.

“Hey, you,” Jimin tells him, smiling. “You better not get too comfortable here. This isn’t your forever home. You’re gonna have to leave in a couple of days. Okay?”

Dae responds by walking further up the bed, stepping into the empty space near Jimin’s shoulder, right underneath his pillow. He leans in and sniffs Jimin’s face, tickling him with his whiskers. Then he spins in a circle a few times before flopping down and curling into a ball, his front paws pressed to Jimin’s cheek.

“How are you this cute,” Jimin whines, rolling over to reach out and scratch behind Dae’s ears. “I guess I need to look for a new apartment, huh?”

Dae purrs so hard that he’s practically cooing, pushing his head into Jimin’s hand as he scratches.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” Jimin tells him. “And thanks for letting Jungkook take you home.” 

It’s been forever since Jimin has been able to fall asleep right away, usually tossing and turning for a while after he goes to bed. But it’s no time at all before Jimin falls asleep, comforted by the warmth of the cat lying against his shoulder, the rhythm of his quiet purrs soothing away all of Jimin’s anxious thoughts. 

——— 

Friday arrives.

It’s a normal day, really. Jungkook doesn’t really have stuff to move, so it’s not like there’s a moving truck, or packing to be done, or boxes crowding the hall, or any other symbolic visual reminders of what’s happening. All he has is a suitcase and two cats, and all he has to do is walk out the door.

Jimin has already come to terms with it, he thinks. His prolonged endeavor of playing pretend will finally end—coming home to Jungkook standing barefoot in the kitchen, hearing Jungkook hum quietly around the house, watching Jungkook’s eyes light up whenever Jimin baked his favorite cookies. He’d set himself up, really, letting himself enjoy those domestic moments far more than he should have. Letting himself pretend they meant something they didn’t.

If he breaks down at the end of it, he really only has himself to blame.

But he doesn’t think he will. He’s hoping that he won’t. He’s saved that bottle of wine he bought earlier in the week, just in case, and Taehyung is fully aware of what’s happening, in case he needs to cheer Jimin up. All possibilities have been accounted for.

When Jimin gets home after his last class of the day, he finds Jungkook’s suitcase packed in the living room, and two cat carriers sitting with their hatches open by the door. Jungkook had taken the day off work to prepare, and had apparently spent most of the morning over at his house, getting things prepped and fixed up.

“Hyung!” Jungkook calls from somewhere down the hall. “I was waiting for you.”

“You were?” Jimin asks, his voice coming out a bit more weakly than he would have preferred.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom. He’s got a toiletry bag in his hands. “I’ve been ready to go for a little while, but it didn’t feel right to leave before you got home.”

“Ah,” Jimin says, his heart fluttering nervously. “You need help wrangling the cats?”

“Haru never puts up a fight,” Jungkook says. “But I dunno about Dae. He didn’t seem very happy in the carrier when I was bringing him home from the shelter. It might be a two-man job.”

Jimin glances over to the couch. Haru is sitting at one end, and Dae is at the other. They were introduced yesterday, and they already seem to be getting along swimmingly.

Jimin thinks about the two of them hanging out together, at Jungkook’s house, without him. His eyes start to get a little misty.

Fuck.

Jimin walks over to where Dae is sitting, crouching down to look him in the eyes. “It was fun having you here, buddy, but it’s time for you to go home, okay?” 

Dae leans forward slightly, booping his nose against Jimin’s.

Okay, maybe Jimin is actually about to have a breakdown. 

Jimin scoops the cat into his arms, walking over to the carrier sitting on the ground. Jungkook picks it up, holding it at waist level so that Jimin can easily dump him inside. As soon as the door is latched, Dae immediately starts meowing.

“Now we’re on a countdown,” Jungkook says, laughing. He grabs Haru and deposits her in the other carrier. She doesn’t make a peep.

Once both cats have been contained, Jungkook rolls his suitcase towards the door. Then he pauses, turning around.

“I don’t know why this feels so weird,” he says.

“It doesn’t feel weird,” Jimin lies.

“Ah. Maybe it’s just me. I just…” he trails off, rubbing at his sweater anxiously. He gazes downward, not meeting Jimin’s eye.  “I could never thank you enough. I wouldn’t know how. Not just for letting me stay here, but I just feel like the past couple of months were kind of hard, and without you, I dunno… I just really appreciate you, hyung.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You already know you’re stuck with me for life.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sad. “Can you help me carry them to my car?”

So Jimin does: he takes a cat carrier in each arm, and Jungkook grabs his suitcase, and they head out the door, then down the elevator, to the parking garage, to the visitor spots where Jungkook has been parking his car during his stay.

The cat carriers are loaded into the backseat and buckled in, the suitcase is placed in the trunk, and then Jungkook stands awkwardly by the drivers’ side door.

“Thanks again,” he says, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the cement floor. “Let’s make plans to hang out next week, sometime, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, nodding, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “That sounds good.”

Jungkook offers him a lopsided smile, soft and sweet, and then he gets in the car. Jimin takes a few steps back, giving him enough room to back out and drive towards the exit.  

And Jimin watches everything he cares about most, all safely buckled up inside that tiny black Hyundai, disappear into the dusky Seoul night.

——— 

Adjusting to his new life—without Jungkook around—isn’t quite as easy as Jimin had hoped.

To be fair, he actually didn’t think it would be easy at all, but some small part of him had allowed himself to believe everything would just go back to normal as soon as Jungkook left. Without seeing him everywhere he looked, maybe he would finally be able to move on. 

But once Jungkook is gone, Jimin realizes that all the time they spent together only made him more fond and googly-eyed. It didn’t matter that Jungkook was with someone else. While Jimin tried to respect that—to not cross any lines—his heart refused to acknowledge it.

Probably because he couldn’t bear it.

If you had asked him before this, he wouldn’t have thought that it was possible to love Jungkook any more. Eight years was long enough for the maximum volume of unrequited love to accumulate—or so he thought. But living with Jungkook was like spending two months in the sun, warm and golden and blindingly bright, then being thrust back into the dark with no warning. 

Now he’s just longing to feel that warmth on his skin again.

But Jimin already made his decision: he let Jungkook go, allowed him to pack his bags and leave, without confessing how he feels. For some reason, it feels final this time. For years, every single day, he’s made the same decision, but this time, Jimin feels in his gut that there’s no turning back. His opportunity has passed. Jungkook chose someone else.

On the night Jungkook left, Jimin immediately felt like he’d lost him for good. It weighed on him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he’d cracked into the bottle of wine, sitting stiffly at the kitchen table, the silence of his apartment absolutely deafening. He was coping, or at least trying to, mulling over the events of the past couple of months in his mind, but then it hit him—something that hurt more than all the rest of it.

He hadn’t lost Jungkook at all, because Jungkook was never his to lose.

None of it mattered to Jungkook the same way it did to Jimin—the closeness they shared, the unwavering connection, the tender moments, the gravitational pull. The overwhelming importance of him. It didn’t matter. Jungkook wasn’t his.

When that realization hit Jimin, it was more than a bottle of wine could coax him out of. He’d called Taehyung, who was barely able to understand him, but the message was received: less than an hour later, Tae was on his doorstep, pretty face creased with concern and a pint of ice cream in his hands.

Jimin demolished the whole thing, but only after Tae spent God-knows-how-long cradling him in his arms, comforting him as he cried. 

It was a low point. 

But that was two weeks ago, and Jimin has tried to push those memories out of his mind. He would rather not relive the emotions he felt that night. He’s baked approximately 72 batches of cookies, and he’s upped the frequency of his tennis dates with Hoseok to three times per week. He’s even added more office hours at work, times where he’s available for students to come meet with him on campus. The busier he is, the more actively he can avoid being consumed by misery.

And sitting alone in his apartment, with no Jungkook and no cats, is pretty miserable.

He hasn’t even seen Jungkook since he moved out. It’s like he fell off the face of the earth—he’s hardly been responding to Jimin’s texts, and when he does, sometimes it’s days later. Jimin doesn’t want to invite himself over, even though he desperately wants to see Dae, so he’s just been waiting... for what, he’s not exactly sure.

After all, this might be the new normal. Jungkook is busy—he works long shifts at the clinic, he goes to the gym at least once a day (sometimes twice, in the morning and evening), and, of course, he has a boyfriend. Jimin understands where he falls on the priority list, although that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. 

So he gives him his space, as much as it hurts. He surrounds himself with other people he cares about—he has coffee on campus with Seokjin, and he has Tae come over for frequent movie nights. He keeps up perfect attendance for his tennis dates with Hoseok and has occasional dinners with Namjoon and Yoongi. He even calls his parents on Facetime for the first time in forever. When his mom answers the call, she’s convinced someone has died.

A few weeks into this new phase of Jimin’s life, Hoseok decides that the seven of them should all get together and hang out. He’s conversing with Jimin about it casually between swings on the tennis court, which is not an art that Jimin has mastered, so he’s losing extra badly this morning.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen anyone besides you in forever,” Hoseok says, delivering a powerful backhand swing. Jimin misses the ball completely, and it whizzes past his ear at a terrifying speed.

“Out,” Jimin calls. Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I could throw a party,” Hoseok suggests as he serves the ball. “It’s been ages since I did that.”

“Yeah, hyung, it’s been years, probably,” Jimin wheezes out, sprinting across the court. He manages to return the serve. “I thought our party days were pretty much behind us.”

“They don’t have to be,” Hoseok proclaims. “My new apartment is definitely big enough. Why haven’t I already done this?”

“Dunno,” Jimin says, hitting the ball right into the net. He curses. “Is this just a ploy to distract me? If so, it’s working.”

Hoseok laughs brightly. “No, but maybe this is just a sign you need to do more cardio.”

“I already know I need to do more cardio,” Jimin whines, approaching the net. “I was barely even using this gym membership before we started playing here.”

“Why don’t you start going to the gym with Jungkook? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a gym buddy,” Hoseok says.

Jimin hits the ball so hard that it goes sailing over Hoseok’s head and bounces off the wall behind him.

“Oh,” Hoseok says, turning around cautiously to look at where the ball hit the wall. “Okay, uh—maybe not.”

They finish their match, and Hoseok shoots off a text in their group chat as he wipes at his brow, asking what day would be best for everyone if he wants to plan a get-together. 

After hearing back from Namjoon, Taehyung and Yoongi—the ones with the most variable schedules—they settle on Saturday night. Although Jungkook hasn’t responded yet, Hoseok shoots off another text: 

Feel free to bring Seojoon hyung if you want, Kookie!!! He’s welcome too

Jimin sees it appear in the group chat and groans. “I thought it would be just the seven of us,” he whines.

“Don’t be a baby,” Hoseok tells him. “This way, if they already had plans, Jungkook can still come. I haven’t seen that little brat in forever. I don’t want him to have any excuse to weasel out of it.”

Jungkook does eventually end up texting back and confirming he can make it, and Jimin tries to ignore how it makes him feel. He wishes he could somehow overpower his heart—he wishes he didn’t feel so excited to see him. 

And then he immediately feels guilty for feeling that way. After all, it’s not wrong to feel excited about seeing his best friend.

No feelings are safe, apparently. If only he could disable them altogether.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur, and Saturday arrives quickly. Although Jimin has been going out of his way to see all of the guys over the past few weeks, he’s still looking forward to seeing everyone together again, since it’s been a few months since they were able to do that. 

He even takes the time to get ready and doll himself up as if he were going out somewhere fancy—he combs his hair back away from his face, donning a pair of tight jeans and a silky button-down. He hardly recognizes himself when he looks in the mirror, far more accustomed to seeing his hair falling down onto his forehead, soft and unstyled.

Hoseok’s apartment is a 30 minute ride on the subway, across the city, in a nicer part of town than Jimin lives in. He makes good money as a highly sought-after background dancer for various different idols, and he was able to move into this place about a year ago, a huge upgrade from the tiny shoebox he was in before. Although it only has one bedroom, the main space is open-concept, with a huge, sprawling living room and a spacious kitchen. Jimin’s only been there once, but it made him thoroughly jealous.

When Jimin arrives, only about half of the boys are present so far. Namjoon and Seokjin are huddled together near the kitchen island, snickering over something, and Hoseok is flitting around the kitchen, pulling snacks out of cupboards and soju out of the refrigerator. The sun has already gone down, and Hoseok has dimmed the lights in the apartment, with atmospheric purple and blue mood lighting casting across the walls in the living room. Some sort of EDM is playing on the speakers in the kitchen.

“What is this, a club?” Jimin asks when he walks through the door. 

“Jiminie!” Hoseok screeches, turning to Jimin. His cheeks are rosy, and he’s clearly already a few beverages deep.

Jimin meets him halfway for a hug, and Hobi nearly squeezes the life out of him, rocking him back and forth affectionately. “Have a drink!” he says, immediately whirling around and opening a bottle of soju.

“I will,” Jimin assures him, gratefully accepting the shot glass filled with soju that Hoseok hands to him. 

“Ah, I see the second-most handsome professor at Seoul National University has decided to grace us with his presence,” Seokjin says, reaching out to squeeze Jimin’s shoulder. 

Jimin laughs, brushing his hand off. “Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m surprised you took that as a compliment.”

“How have you been, Jimin?” Namjoon asks him, sounding earnest.

Jimin ponders answering that honestly for a moment, but decides that’s a terrible idea. “I’ve been great,” he says instead, downing his soju. “Been trying to keep myself busy. I’ve been playing tennis with Hobi hyung three times a week.”

“I heard,” Namjoon says. “He brags about beating you all the time.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, pouring himself another glass of soju. “That’s nothing to brag about. I’m not good at all.”

“But it’s so fun,” Hoseok sing-songs, now arranging crackers strategically on a plate. He picks one up and shoves it into Jimin’s mouth before he can respond.

The front door opens, then, and Taehyung appears, wearing a baggy sweater and looking as impossibly handsome as ever.

“What is this,” he asks, glancing around the living room. “A frat house?”

“Hello to you too. I’m creating an ambiance,” Hoseok huffs, walking over to him and shoving a cracker in his mouth as well. 

“I see,” Taehyung mumbles, chewing. He walks over to Jimin, looping his arms around his neck. “How are you doing?”

Jimin meets his eye for a moment, communicating telepathically, as they often do: I’m trying to be okay. I’m really trying.

“I’m good,” he says, pouring a glass of soju for Tae and handing it to him, which forces Taehyung to untangle himself from Jimin’s torso. “What about you?”

“Better now,” Taehyung says. “I just spent two hours in a meeting with a buyer, and it probably would have gone longer if I didn’t have an excuse to leave. I think she was more interested in staring at me than she was in purchasing anything.”

“Can you really blame her, though?” Jimin asks teasingly, reaching out to pinch Taehyung’s cheek. Tae slaps his hand away, ducking his head down and grinning widely.

A few minutes later, the doorknob turns again, and this time, Jungkook and Yoongi walk through the door.

There’s a round of hellos and some excited hollering. Jimin barely registers the noise, his eyes glued to Jungkook. 

Jimin is very accustomed to seeing him in his scrubs, his gym clothes, or his pajamas. His outfit tonight is none of those things. He’s wearing a black leather jacket with a low-cut white t-shirt underneath and a pair of ripped jeans. His hair is brushed back neatly, with one side tucked behind his ear.

He looks impossibly gorgeous, and Jimin allows himself to acknowledge that for a few seconds before hastily glancing away.

“Yoongi hyung, I thought you were dead,” Namjoon says flatly.

“Hey!” Yoongi objects, shrugging off his jacket. “I’ve been busy. Next month I should have more free time. I have two projects that are both wrapping up.”

“You should at least text us every now and then to confirm you’re alive.”

“He texts me,” Hoseok pipes up. 

“Favoritism is unethical,” Seokjin proclaims, pushing his finger into the center of Yoongi’s chest. “I want to know you’re alive, too.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yoongi says sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. 

They all laugh it off, and Hoseok herds the group towards the living room, now that everyone has arrived. Jimin sinks down into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. Jungkook meets his eye and offers him a soft smile, which Jimin returns to the best of his ability.

Namjoon and Seokjin are still in the kitchen, laughing at something on Namjoon’s phone. Hoseok sits down next to Jungkook on the couch. 

“I was expecting you to bring Seojoon hyung. Is he busy with work?”

Jungkook suddenly looks incredibly uncomfortable. He looks down, around, anywhere but at Hoseok. “Oh. Um, no.”

Hoseok blinks. “Oh? Did he just not want to come...? Does he not want to hang out with us? Are we not cool enough for him? I’ll—”

Jungkook cuts him off, his shoulders sagging. “No, hyung. We broke up.”

Jimin’s jaw drops.

Hoseok stares at Jungkook with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Oh, God. I’m sorry, Kookie. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Are you okay?”

Jimin can feel the intensity of Taehyung’s stare without even glancing over his way.

It feels like the floor might fall out from under him at any moment.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook says quietly, nodding. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything, I just—yeah.”

“What happened?” Taehyung asks, his voice soft. “I mean, only if you want to tell us.”

Jungkook squirms in his seat. He’s not making eye contact with any of them. “I broke things off. I just realized that it... wasn’t working out. That’s all.”

“Damn,” Yoongi says, whistling. “How did he take it?”

“Pretty well, all things considered,” Jungkook says. “Honestly, I think he saw it coming for a little while, so.”

“Good for you,” Hoseok says, slapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself for doing what you felt was right. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook shakes his head, smiling sadly. “It wasn’t.”

It occurs to Jimin, then, that he should probably say something.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, hands clasped in his lap nervously. “I had no idea things weren’t going well between you two.”

Jungkook finally meets his eye then, but only for a second before glancing away.

“It’s okay,” he says, leg jiggling. He laughs awkwardly. “You guys don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I feel like I just ruined the mood.”

“As long as you promise you’re okay,” Hoseok says, cracking open a beer and handing it to Jungkook. “How’s work?”

“Same old,” Jungkook says, taking a sip. His arm flexes noticeably against the sleeve of his leather jacket as he raises the beer to his lips. Jimin hates that he notices. “We just brought on a new vet, so I’ve had to spend a bit of time training her and getting her up to speed on how we do things at the clinic. What about you?”

Hoseok launches into a story about the latest music video he worked on, but Jimin barely hears him. He can hardly hear anything at all over the sound of his racing thoughts and pounding heart. Everyone around him is carrying on as normal—laughing, chatting, drinking—but it feels like they’re all in a different universe, one where the important fundamentals of reality haven’t suddenly and confusingly and unexpectedly changed.

They’re all downing their drinks so quickly that none of them seem to notice that Jimin is sitting quietly, barely participating in the conversation or sipping on his drink. As time passes, he doesn’t feel better—it feels like everything is getting louder and louder, the conversation a deafening roar in his ears, his feelings too overwhelming for him to keep sitting still. His heart and brain both feel like they’re going to explode.

He’s barely processed what it means that Jungkook isn’t with Seojoon anymore. What it means that Jungkook has been avoiding him over the past couple of weeks. What anything means at all.

He’s gotta get out of here.

“Gonna get some fresh air,” Jimin says, leaning over and mumbling in Taehyung’s ear. Before Taehyung can respond, Jimin is up off his chair, across the living room, and heading out the front door.

Hobi lives in a second-story walk-up above a convenience store. As soon as Jimin descends the stairs and bursts into the chilly night air, he immediately feels better. He didn’t even bother to grab his jacket on the way out the door, so he hugs himself with his arms as he jogs across the street, where there’s a small park with a playground, completely deserted at this time of night.

It’s not quiet out here, but it’s at least quieter in comparison. There’s the drone of cars and traffic in the distance, the occasional honk of a horn, and the sound of leaves rustling as they skitter across the ground and fall off the mostly-barren tree branches in the breeze. They crunch under Jimin’s feet as he walks across the park and towards the empty swing set. Fall is well underway, rapidly making room for winter to creep in.

He barely feels the cold, though. Mainly, he just feels invigorated, sucking the cold air into his lungs. It’s like he can breathe again.

He eases himself down onto one of the two empty swings, sighing. The chains are cool against his fingers, and he scuffs at the dirt beneath the swing with his boots, not really pushing off, just swaying there and kicking his feet.

It’s been forever since he was on a swing. He couldn’t even tell you the last time. It feels kind of nice.

He just sits there for a while, listening to the sounds of the city, trying to quiet his mind. The way he’s reacted to Jungkook’s news isn’t exactly how he imagined he would feel when this happened. He’d imagined it, of course, the way he would react if Jungkook and Seojoon broke up. He always assumed he would feel joy, relief, excitement—all positive feelings. 

Turns out that wasn’t very accurate.

It’s difficult for him to pinpoint how he feels, exactly—and that’s one of the things he’s hoping to sort out here, before he has to go back inside and face Jungkook again.

Surprisingly, one of the emotions he feels most overwhelmingly is guilt. Red-hot guilt and shame, as if he’s somehow responsible for this, even though he knows it doesn’t have anything to do with him. That’s mixed with a weird sort of dread, heavy and sour in his stomach, along with a significant amount of concern for Jungkook. Even though he said he’s doing fine—that it’s what he wanted—Jimin could sense that something was a little off. He knows him well enough to know that.

Jimin also feels afraid. Because the only thing standing in his way, preventing him from confessing how he really felt, was that he didn’t think it would be right to ask Jungkook to choose between him and someone else he’d already chosen.

But that’s not the case anymore.

He can’t think about that—not yet, anyway. He’s being selfish by thinking about any of this at all. What should really matter to him the most is whether Jungkook is alright. This situation doesn’t even involve him. The longer he thinks, the more the guilt compounds upon itself.

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. In and out, in and out—letting the fresh air cleanse him from the inside, feeling the cold air burning his lungs with each inhale. It’s purifying, refreshing.

“Hyung,” a familiar voice calls.

Jimin’s eyes fly open, and he turns his head towards the source of the sound.

Jungkook is crossing the street, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Oh, no.

“Hey,” Jimin calls back, clinging to the swing’s chains so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing,” Jungkook says, stopping and standing in front of the swing. He feels so tall while Jimin is sitting down like this.

“It’s not too bad,” Jimin says with a shrug.

“You don’t even have your jacket,” Jungkook points out, his gaze roaming down over Jimin’s silky shirt. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern.

“How did you even know I was out here?”

“I could see you out Hobi hyung’s window,” Jungkook says, turning and pointing up at the apartment, which is still visible from across the street.

“I guess I wasn’t being as sneaky as I thought,” Jimin says, laughing and shaking his head.

“What are you doing out here? Are you okay?” Jungkook asks. His blonde hair flutters in the breeze, caressing the sides of his face lightly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you if you’re okay?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “I already told you I’m fine.”

“Of course you did. But I don’t think you are.”

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip. He’s quiet for a moment, not saying anything, and then he steps behind Jimin. A moment later, a pair of broad hands meet Jimin’s back, pushing gently—not enough to get him very high off the ground, but enough to get him swinging a little bit.

“I started to feel like I was settling,” Jungkook says quietly, still behind him.

A wave of butterflies flutters through Jimin’s stomach, catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. If I stayed with him, I felt like I would be settling.”

He pushes Jimin again, maintaining his gentle momentum. The warmth of his hands feels hot enough to burn through the thin material of Jimin’s shirt. 

“You’re freezing,” Jungkook chides. “Do you want my jacket?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I’m fine. You’ll freeze to death. You’re wearing less than I am under there.”

“Yeah, I guess. I dunno why I got so dressed up,” Jungkook says. “I mean, dressed up by my standards, anyway. It’s just rare that I have the chance.”

“Me too,” Jimin says, glancing down at the expensive black jeans that are hugging his thighs tightly. 

“You look really nice tonight, hyung,” Jungkook says.

The compliment disarms Jimin, and he nearly falls out of the swing.

“Thank you,” Jimin manages to say. “So do you.”

As he swings, thoughts are floating slowly to the surface of his mind: feelings, curiosities, questions. With Jungkook behind him, out of sight, the questions feel easier to ask.

“You kind of fell off the radar there for a bit,” Jimin says. “I was worried about you.”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry,” Jungkook says quietly. “That was shitty of me.”

That is… not what Jimin expected him to say.

That makes it sound like it was something he did intentionally.

“I wanted to see Dae, but I didn’t want to invite myself over,” Jimin says. “I mean, I wanted to see you too, of course, but—I mean, yeah.”

“It would have been nice to have you over,” Jungkook says, pushing him once more. “I think Dae misses you. You’re definitely his person. I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you to come.”

“It has been weird not having you around,” Jimin says honestly. “I had gotten used to it. Having you around all the time.”

“Yeah. I had gotten used to it, too.”

“So then why did you vanish off the face of the earth after you moved out? Was it because of what was going on with Seojoon?”

Although he can’t see Jungkook, he can sense the way he tenses up behind him. 

“Sort of. I was just… dealing with a lot.”

“You should have told me,” Jimin says gently. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Jungkook lets out a dry laugh, catching Jimin off guard. “I don’t think I could have. Not about this.”

Jimin frowns at that. “Why not?”

Jungkook stops pushing him. He steps forward, hands reaching up to clutch the chains above Jimin’s hands.

“Hyung, there’s something that I should tell you, but I think I can probably only do it if you stay exactly how you are. If you’re not looking at me.”

Jimin freezes. Jungkook’s standing so close to him that Jimin can feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Okay,” Jimin says slowly. “I won’t look at you.”

He hears Jungkook take a deep breath. “I owe this to you,” he says, knuckles whitening as his grip tightens on the chains. “And I want you to understand that this doesn’t change anything between us. It’s been like this... the whole time, so it shouldn’t change anything. I just—it’s not right anymore. For me to not say anything.”

Jimin’s stomach sinks down, down, down.

It’s obvious, then. Jungkook must know. 

He must know how Jimin feels—and he’s been hiding the fact that he’s aware of it, not wanting to have to address it, not wanting Jimin to feel embarrassed about it. Especially not while Jungkook was with someone else. 

Jimin’s cheeks flush red, burning hot.

It’s been like this… the whole time.

Jungkook has known the whole time? And he never said anything?

Jimin opens his mouth to speak, to object, to defend himself, but he’s not able to get it out before Jungkook is talking again. 

“The reason…” Jungkook trails off, his voice shaking. He clears his throat and tries again.

“The reason I broke up with Seojoon is because I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. That’s why.”

What?

In shock, Jimin releases his grip on the chains, hands falling down into his lap.

What?

“You’re kidding,” Jimin says. 

This is probably not the best thing to say, all things considered, but it’s all his scrambled brain manages to produce.

“No,” Jungkook says quietly. “I’m not.”

Jimin stands up, whirling around to face Jungkook. The swing hangs between them, separating them, swaying slightly with the force of Jimin’s dismount. Jungkook looks completely caught out—he’s breathing harder than usual, his cheeks are red, and his eyes are round, staring at Jimin in surprise.

“Hyung, you said you wouldn’t look at me.”

“Well, I—”

Jungkook spins around, defiant, and sits down in the empty swing, facing away from Jimin.

Jimin bursts into incredulous laughter, staring at Jungkook’s broad shoulders from behind, at the way they’re heaving with his nervous breath. Then he steps around the swing, coming to a stop in front of where Jungkook sits, looking down at him.

Jungkook stares down at the ground, refusing to meet his eye.

“Jungkook. Look at me.”

He doesn’t.

Jimin takes a step forward, then another. On the second step, Jimin widens his stance, and it ends in a straddle, with both his legs pressed to the outside of Jungkook’s bent ones, one leg on each side.

That gets Jungkook to look up.

Jimin sinks down until he’s on Jungkook’s lap, keeping both feet anchored on the ground to support his weight. He wraps his arms around Jungkook’s neck. The swing creaks.

“What are you doing,” Jungkook says weakly. He looks like he might pass out.

“I love you,” Jimin says simply.

It feels incredible to say it out loud. Like years of tension are dissolving and blowing away in the autumn breeze.

He’s still not entirely sure if this is really happening.

Tears prick at the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, glimmering and wet under the dim streetlamps. His gaze is roaming all over Jimin’s face, like he’s searching for clues. Like he doesn’t believe it. Like he’s scared that Jimin is going to take it back. 

“What?” Jungkook asks, barely audible. He plants his feet more firmly into the dirt underneath them, steadying them.

Jimin reaches up, brushing away one of Jungkook’s tears with the pad of his thumb. His heart is beating so fast he thinks he might be at risk of actual death.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you,” Jimin says.

Jungkook takes in a shuddery breath. “Why didn’t you… I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin smiles at him sadly, feeling a lump start to form in his throat. “Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me. I was afraid.”

“Right, but… if I knew. I wouldn’t have ever—and God, Jimin, you just had to watch—” 

Another tear escapes, rolling down his cheek, and Jimin wipes at Jungkook’s face with his sleeve.

“I don’t think it’s going to do us any good to think about the what ifs right now,” Jimin says softly. “I think if I do, it’ll kill me.”

Jungkook blinks rapidly, tears clinging to his eyelashes. “You’re in my lap.”

“And we need to talk about Seojoon,” Jimin says. 

“But you’re in my lap.”

“Would you like me to get up?”

“Not particularly.”

Jimin’s cell phone vibrates once in his pocket. He wonders if he and Jungkook are visible from the apartment window. 

“If you felt this way, then why…” Jimin trails off, swallowing hard. “Seojoon. Why?”

“I didn’t think you felt the same. I really didn’t,” Jungkook says. “It just kind of… happened, and I thought maybe this would be the only way for me to move on. Nothing else had worked.” His voice cracks a little. 

“But it didn’t work.”

“No,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “It ended up feeling so wrong… like I was leading him on. It wasn’t right for me to be with him while I still had feelings for you. Once I realized those feelings weren’t going anywhere, I ended things with him.”

“But it still meant something to you,” Jimin says carefully. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been with him for as long as you were.”

Jungkook nods. “Yes. I had feelings for him. It wasn’t fake or anything. My feelings for him, though, they weren’t… it was different than what I feel for you.”

“Sure,” Jimin says. He sighs. “But you literally just broke up with him. And you did have feelings for him. What I’m trying to tell you is… I don't want to be a rebound for you.”

A panicked expression flashes across Jungkook’s face. “Wait. Are you saying—”

“I’m saying you need to take some time to get over him,” Jimin says softly. “Before we even think about acting on this.”

“So you’re not saying no. Because it kind of sounded like you were saying no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Jimin says. He reaches up, brushing Jungkook’s hair back away from his face. “But I’m saying we shouldn’t jump into anything. This is a lot.”

What he’s saying is reasonable, logical, and sound. It’s what his brain is telling him to do. 

What his heart is telling him to do, however, is cup Jungkook’s face in his hands and kiss him right on his stupid mouth. 

He never thought he’d have the chance. Waiting to do it now feels irresponsible. 

“I would like to propose an alternative solution,” Jungkook says. 

“Oh?”

“I will wait for you. For this. If that’s what you want. I’ll wait as long as you ask me to. But I would like to suggest that waiting period begins only once you have removed yourself from my lap.”

Jimin smiles, sniffling a little as he laughs. He wipes at his nose, which is quickly turning red from the cold. “That’s certainly a creative way of approaching it. What would you like to do while I’m on your lap?”

“I want to kiss you,” Jungkook murmurs, his eyes shining in the dark. 

Oh. 

Jimin is easily convinced.

“Okay,” Jimin breathes, winding his arms tighter around Jungkook’s neck. 

Jungkook wraps one arm around Jimin’s body, hand reaching around to press against the small of his back. The other hand goes up to Jimin’s face, fingers tracing lightly across his cheek. His gaze flickers down to Jimin’s lips, eyelashes fluttering. 

He draws closer, near enough that their noses are brushing, and then he softly presses his mouth to Jimin’s.

It’s overwhelming. Jimin has spent years imagining what Jungkook’s lips would feel like on his—praying, hoping, longing. The kiss is simple, soft and sweet, but so much more than that. Jimin tries to memorize the way Jungkook tastes in this moment: a little like soju, like his vanilla lip balm, a hint of salt from the tears that had streaked down his face only minutes ago. 

He’s gentle, cupping Jimin’s jaw in his hand, coaxing his mouth open. And Jimin feels like he’s turning to liquid, like he can’t feel his own body anymore. He can only feel Jungkook’s warmth, his solid weight underneath him, and the soft push of his mouth against his.

It’s clear that Jungkook isn’t ready to let Jimin climb off his lap any time soon. They kiss for what feels like hours—although with the way Jimin’s perception of time has slowed down in this surreal moment, it’s probably more like ten minutes. By the time Jimin forces himself to pull away from Jungkook, he’s breathing hard, and Jungkook is staring at him with dilated pupils, his lips pink and a little swollen. 

“We should stop,” Jimin says softly. 

Jungkook nods. “I know.”

Jimin unwinds his arms from around Jungkook’s neck, grabbing onto the chains so that he doesn’t fall backwards. “I’m going to get up now.”

“Wait,” Jungkook objects, both hands sliding up Jimin’s back. Jimin shivers. 

“Yes?”

“We’re okay?” Jungkook asks.

“Of course we’re okay,” Jimin tells him. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook’s eyes close for a moment. “I just need time. And you do, too.”

Jungkook nods. “Okay.”

Jimin leans back, shifting his weight to his feet, then eases himself up off Jungkook and stands up, stretching his legs.

“I guess we should probably go back in,” Jungkook says. He rises from the swing, glancing over towards the apartment worriedly. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

That reminds Jimin to check his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and unlocks it, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. He has 11 text notifications from Taehyung. 

i know im halluciinatnig right now you littilie rascalkr

i am looking out the HWIDNOW

I KNOW I CANNOT BE SEEIENG WHAT IHTI NK IM SEEING????

BECAUSEHU IT LOOKS LIKE YOURE LITLTJEJRILY SIITINING ON JUNGKOOK

MAKNIG OUT

WHATHK THKEL FUCK

WHAT ARE U UDOING

HE LITELERAYILY JUST TOLD US HE BROKJEO UP 5 MINUTES AGOJ SHOULDNT YOU HAVE WAJIITEID MAYBE LIKE 30 SEOCONDS OR SOMETHING

I MENA DONT GET ME WRONOGN IM HAPPY FOR YOU BUT

WOW YOOURE STILL GOING HUH

ok ilj guess ill leave you alone bye

Jimin grimaces, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “They saw. Taehyung did, anyway. Let’s hope he didn’t make a spectacle out of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes go round. “Oh, God.”

“He seems pretty drunk, but even when he’s tipsy, he’s very discreet. I think he knows better than to have told everyone.”

And Jimin’s hunch is right: when they head back up to Hobi’s apartment, it’s clear that everyone there is clueless. Except for Taehyung, who is staring at Jimin with his eyebrows dramatically raised and intense laser-beam eyes. Jimin shoots him a knowing look: Don’t you dare say a word.

“I need another drink,” Taehyung announces loudly. “Or maybe five.”

“Where did you guys go?” Hoseok asks, getting up off the couch and immediately stumbling. Seems like they all had quite a few more drinks while Jimin was gone. 

“I just wanted to get some fresh air. Wasn’t feeling well,” Jimin says. “I’m feeling much better now, though.”

“I bet you are,” Taehyung calls from across the kitchen. 

“I just wanted to make sure he was okay, so I went out to find him,” Jungkook offers. “But he was fine.”

“Good,” Seokjin says. He’s standing in the middle of the living room, wiggling back and forth in the empty space where the coffee table has been pushed aside to make room for an impromptu dance floor. “We were about to do karaoke.”

“Nice,” Jungkook says excitedly, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “I’m in.”

And then, like flipping a switch, the rest of the evening proceeds as normal. Jimin honestly tries his best to be present and level-headed and relaxed with his friends—everyone is laughing and drinking and singing, and he’d ordinarily not have a care in the world, but he’s having some difficulty ignoring the fact his life was just irrevocably changed in the park across the street.

By the time he heads home, it’s close to 2AM, and half the guys have already left. On his way out the door, Jungkook grabs him by the arm. 

“Hyung. How long do I have to wait?”

Jimin smiles, wriggling his arm out of Jungkook’s grasp. “I’ll let you know when the time is right. Okay?”

Jungkook sighs. “Okay.”

“I think tomorrow, when you’re a bit more clear-headed, you’ll understand why this is important.”

“No, I understand it. I just—yeah. It’s okay. Will you get home safe? Do you want me to come home with you?”

“Very smooth,” Jimin says, nose crinkling as he smiles.

“Hey, it was worth a shot.”

“Goodnight, Jungkook. Make sure you get home safely too, okay? Crash here if you need to.”

Jungkook nods. “I will.”

And then Jimin slips through the door, down the stairs, and out into the night, feeling more alive than he’s felt in years.

——— 

After the party, Jungkook immediately stops avoiding Jimin, which is a relief. In fact, Jimin can barely manage to keep him out of his hair—Jungkook is constantly texting him, inviting him over, asking him out to lunch. Jimin always accepts the invitations, but he usually asks at least one of the other guys to tag along. 

He’s delighted to see Dae again, who seems to be settling in just fine at Jungkook’s place. The first time Jimin comes over, Dae meows so loudly and incessantly in greeting that Jimin wonders if it might disturb the neighbors. He spends the entire visit with Dae cradled in his arms, purring contently. 

Jimin can’t remember the last time he felt so happy.

As the days go on, Jimin’s grateful to have some time and space to work through his emotions. While he meant what he said about not wanting to be a rebound, that’s not the only reason he asked Jungkook to wait before they proceeded with anything. Jimin also needs some time to process everything for himself, too. 

This is a big change. And a largely unexpected one, after years of telling himself that Jungkook has never seen him in a romantic light. It was made very clear by their activity on the swings that Jungkook very much does see him in a romantic light, but Jimin has spent so long telling himself the opposite that it takes him a little while to process it. To believe it.

It’s not like he has any sort of decision to make. Jungkook seemed nervous, like he was waiting for Jimin to decide, but really, that’s not it at all. 

Jimin is pretty sure that the universe has already decided for him.

So once he’s come to terms with everything, and he’s finally allowed himself to believe that Jungkook loves him, it’s just a matter of giving Jungkook enough time to get over his super-hot lawyer ex-boyfriend.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Namjoon asks Jimin at one point, a few weeks after the party. “If he’s in love with you, why does it matter how long ago he broke up with Seojoon?”

“He cared about him,” Jimin says, putting dishes away in the kitchen. Namjoon is sitting in Jimin’s living room, eating a slice of banana bread that Jimin baked. “It’s not healthy to jump into another relationship immediately after you break up.”

“Yeah, but he broke up with him because he wanted to be with you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin says. “The relationship still meant something to him. Besides, it’s really important to me that if we’re going to do this, we do it the right way. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“I understand that,” Namjoon says, softening. “You’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Well, to be frank, I never thought it would happen,” Jimin says. “I wasn’t so much waiting as I was… surviving.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard him mention Seojoon once since they broke up, so if you’re wanting to be sure he’s over him, it seems like maybe he already has been the whole time.”

Jimin nods. “They were only together for a few months. I think I’ll feel ready soon. Just a little while longer. Do you want another slice, hyung?”

Namjoon nods enthusiastically. 

“Even though you guys aren’t together yet, it’s nice to see you so happy. I really mean that. I don’t think I realized how much this had been weighing on you. It had been so long, it was just like the way you were all the time… anyway,” Namjoon says, trailing off. He looks sad for a moment, then shakes his head and smiles. “I’m really, truly happy for you, Jiminie.”

Jimin unties his apron, the one Jungkook had embroidered for him, and lays it on the counter. “Thanks, hyung. And thank you for that advice you gave me. To focus on loving myself. You have no idea how much of a difference that made. I was able to cope a lot better with everything going on, so... Thank you.”

Namjoon smiles. “You’re welcome.”

——— 

Another week passes by, filled with eager texts from Jungkook littered with heart emojis, and Jimin suddenly decides that he has waited long enough.

There’s nothing special that really happens, no specific event that makes him feel like it’s time, but when Jimin wakes up that particular morning, he glances over to the empty side of his bed and thinks: it would really be nice if I saw Jungkook there when I woke up.

It would be really nice to kiss him again. To tell him that I love him again. I’d like to tell him that again.

And that’s why Jimin is standing in his kitchen now, trusty apron tied around his waist, making gimbap.

The ingredients are laid out on the counter: rice, seaweed, ham, egg, carrots, cucumber. He’s slicing everything carefully, then rolling it all together and wrapping it in foil, placing the wrapped rolls inside a clean plastic tupperware container.

He’s humming to himself quietly as he does it, carefully sealing the rolls so they won’t fall apart. Today is a great day.

He’s off work today, so he’s going to surprise Jungkook at work and bring him lunch.

After he’s finished making the gimbap and it’s tightly packed inside the container, he rummages through his kitchen drawer until he finds a pad of sticky notes. They have little cats on them, which is perfect.

He pulls one off the top of the pad and writes: Made with love by JM. Then he folds it up and drops it on top of the gimbap, sealing up the container. He gazes down at it lovingly.

He could get used to this. 

Around 11:30AM, he pulls on his jacket and boots and heads out the door with the tupperware firmly tucked under his arm. Jungkook’s clinic is only about a 20 minute drive, so he takes the car, singing along to Twice on his way there. He’s hoping to catch Jungkook early enough that he won’t have already gotten his lunch somewhere else.

When he arrives, he parks in one of the visitor spots in the complex, then heads through the parking garage and into the building. When he enters the clinic, he walks up to the front desk, bowing politely at the older woman who’s sitting behind the counter.

“How can I help you?” she asks.

“I’m here to drop off lunch for Dr. Jeon,” Jimin says. “But if he’s busy, I can just leave it with you—”

“Hold on a second,” she says, setting down the paperwork she was working on and peering up at him, glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Are you Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin blinks at her. “Yes?”

Her stern face transforms into a bright smile, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, you are my favorite person.”

Jimin thinks for a moment before it dawns on him. “Oh, did you eat my cookies?”

She nods. “And your bread. And your cupcakes. And your muffins.”

“Ah,” Jimin says, laughing sheepishly. “I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

“I’ve been sorely missing them ever since Dr. Jeon stopped bringing them in,” she says, frowning. “You don’t happen to have any cookies with you today, do you?”

“If I had thought of it, I would have brought some,” Jimin says apologetically. “But I’ll bake some and send them in with Jungk— with Dr. Jeon very soon.”

“Lovely,” she says, looking like she’s just struck gold. “I think Dr. Jeon is between appointments at the moment. He’ll be in the back room. Straight down the hall, the very last door.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, bowing again and turning to head down the hall.

The door to the back room is slightly ajar, and Jimin pokes his head in, peering around. The space is quite large, and it seems to house all the typical break-room stuff: coffee makers, a microwave, a refrigerator. There are also shelves upon shelves of medication, and two desks equipped with computers and phones.

Jungkook is sitting at one of the desks, wearing dark green scrubs, his back turned to Jimin. He’s got the phone perched between his ear and his shoulder, and he’s rapidly typing something on the computer as he speaks.

“I’d like to start her on a steroid called prednisolone,” he says into the phone. “She shouldn’t be on it long term, but until we figure out the next best steps for her, it’ll help reduce her pain and inflammation.” He pauses. “Yes, I’d like her to take it for two weeks. Then you can bring her in for another exam, and I’ll check her out and see how much she’s improved. Then we can decide where to go from there.” Another pause, then he laughs. “Believe it or not, she was so good for us today. We didn’t even have to sedate her at all.”

Jimin steps the rest of the way through the door, still going unnoticed as Jungkook wraps up his conversation on the phone. He’s stopped typing—now he’s tapping his pen on the desk. 

“Yes, you can come pick her up anytime after 2:30,” he says. “You’re welcome. Bye.”

He hangs up the phone, then spins around in his chair. When he sees Jimin, he yelps and nearly jumps out of his seat.

Jimin bursts into laughter as Jungkook clutches at his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” Jungkook says, rising from his chair. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. Just long enough to listen to you talk about pred—um, prednosi—well, you know.”

“Prednisolone,” Jungkook offers, grinning. He strides across the room, stopping in front of Jimin and looking at him meaningfully, like he very much wants to crush him in those strong arms of his.

“You can,” Jimin says, sighing. 

Jungkook wraps his arms around him and squeezes hard, leaning backwards a little, lifting Jimin off his feet. Jimin sputters for air.

“Can’t breathe,” he wheezes. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook says, setting him back down. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says, having momentarily forgotten. He holds out the tupperware container, presenting it to Jungkook. “I made you lunch.”

Jungkook stares at him with the closest thing to cartoon heart-eyes that Jimin has ever witnessed on an actual real-life human.

“You what?” he asks, reaching out and taking the container. “You made this? For me?”

Jimin nods.

Jungkook opens the container, and he practically squeals when he sees the gimbap, leaning down to sniff it. “Ham?”

“Yes. That’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, looking at Jimin like he wants to grab him and kiss him right on the mouth. 

Jimin sort of wishes he would.

Jungkook picks up the note that’s sitting on top of the gimbap inside the container, and he unfolds it with his free hand, reading it silently. 

When he’s done, he glances back up at Jimin, his eyes wide and shimmering with something unspoken. 

“You should come over for dinner tonight,” Jimin blurts out.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh? Do you mean, like—”

“Yes,” Jimin says. “I mean it like that.”

“I mean, I could come over now,” Jungkook says, glancing down at his watch. “I’m sure Dr. Lee could cover my afternoon appointments—”

“No,” Jimin says, swatting at his arm. “It’s not dinnertime yet.”

“It could be.”

“No. When are you done? Does seven work?”

“Seven is perfect. Any time is perfect. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Jimin says. 

“Do you want me to bring Dae?”

Jimin lights up, clasping his hands to his chest. “I would love if you brought him.”

“Okay. I’ll bring him. I think I gotta go,” Jungkook says, glancing down at his watch again. “I have an appointment at noon. Let me walk you to the front.”

Jungkook puts his gimbap in the refrigerator, and then he escorts Jimin down the hall, back out to the lobby. There’s a middle-aged woman in the waiting room with a large Shiba Inu sitting at her feet, and when the dog sees Jungkook, he leaps to his feet, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

“Hey, buddy,” Jungkook says, smiling. He crouches down, and the dog rushes forward, bouncing from foot to foot and licking at Jungkook’s hands.

“He always gets so excited to see you,” the woman says, laughing. “I always thought dogs were supposed to hate going to the vet.”

“He’s a smart boy,” Jungkook says, scratching behind his ears. The dog’s tongue lolls out of his mouth as he smiles from ear to ear (quite literally). “I think he must remember that I always give him treats every time he comes in.”

The dog perks up at the word treat, leaping up and spinning in a circle. Jungkook takes the leash from the owner, giving the dog a pat on the rear and gesturing for the woman to follow him to one of the treatment rooms.

“Bye, Jimin hyung,” he says, waving before he disappears back down the hall.

Jimin drives home feeling happy and light.

Since Jimin only decided to invite Jungkook over on a whim this morning, he’s not particularly prepared to have a dinner guest. He stops at the grocery store on his way home, picking up a few staples so that he’ll be able to whip something together. What, exactly, he’s not sure. He’s been so focused on baking recently that it’s been forever since he actually cooked a real meal.

He’s been filled with nervous energy all day, knowing that he was planning to invite Jungkook over. He wasn’t 100% sure if Jungkook would say yes—after all, he might have had plans already—so now that he knows for sure that Jungkook is coming over, he’s kind of freaking out a little.

He spends the entire afternoon tidying and preparing, but he isn’t even sure why. After all, Jungkook lived there with him for two full months—he’s already seen Jimin’s apartment in increasingly horrifying states of total disarray and unorganization. 

But tonight feels different, in a significant way, because tonight… is a date.

Jimin likes that. He likes that a lot. The thought flutters through his mind all day long, and he’s feeling quite chipper as he vacuums and sweeps and scrubs. 

I have a date with Jungkook tonight. 

It feels like he’s safely made it to the end of a treacherous journey—a years-long struggle that was filled with risk, pain, and tears. A battle that he wasn’t expecting to win at all. Despite all his nerves, he mainly feels overwhelming relief. 

He made it. They’ve made it. He and Jungkook are finally getting the promising start that they’ve so valiantly earned.

Jimin stresses over what to wear for a little longer than is probably appropriate. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s trying too hard, but he still wants to look nice. After trying on four or five different outfits, huffing and puffing in front of the mirror, he settles on something simple: a soft, tan cashmere sweater, paired with dark fitted jeans. He fiddles with his hair in the mirror nervously, putting on simple earrings and some lip balm. 

He feels self-concious as he stares at his reflection, smoothing his hands down the front of his sweater. He’s usually pretty confident in his appearance, but tonight… he just wants everything to be perfect. Ultimately, the only thing that allows him to step away from the mirror and carry on with his preparations is when he reminds himself, quietly, out loud, that Jungkook loves him. 

Maybe once he’s able to start hearing it more, he’ll start believing it more.

Seven o’clock arrives before he knows it, and then his doorbell is ringing. Jimin’s heart rate accelerates as he rushes over to the door to answer it, fingers fumbling as he unlocks it and pulls it open.

“Hi,” Jungkook says, smiling brightly. He’s got a bottle of wine in one hand, and a plastic cat carrier in the other.

Here, in this moment, Jimin lets himself fully appreciate how beautiful Jungkook is. It’s not wrong for him to do that anymore. There is no shame. So he allows his gaze to roam down Jungkook’s body, back up and over his gorgeous face, and it all causes Jimin’s brain to come stuttering to a halt for a moment. He’s wearing a slim-fitted white button down shirt, the first few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair is a little wavy tonight, and his jeans are hugging his strong legs tightly, accentuating every curve.

Jimin’s half-tempted to skip dinner entirely and drag Jungkook straight into his bed instead.

“Hi,” Jimin manages to say, stepping aside so that Jungkook can enter. He sets the cat carrier down on the ground, opens the hatch, and to Jimin’s surprise, not one, but two cats immediately leap out. 

“I felt bad taking Dae and leaving Haru by herself,” Jungkook says apologetically, moving the empty carrier over into the corner by the door. “So you get a two-for-one tonight.”

Haru skitters over to the living room, and Dae is weaving between Jimin’s legs, purring loudly. Jimin leans over and scratches him under the chin, smiling at him fondly. Even though he’s gotten to see him relatively frequently over the past few weeks, Dae still gets terribly excited every single time. Jimin does, too. 

“How have you been, my favorite furry friend?” Jimin asks, scooping him up in his arms. Dae peers up at him with crossed eyes, meowing once.

“I think he just said he’s been doing great,” Jungkook says.

“Thank you, cat whisperer, for your input.”

“Hey, don’t I get a hug too?” Jungkook asks, pouting slightly.

“Of course,” Jimin says, allowing Dae to jump out of his arms. 

“You’re going to get cat hair all over me,” Jungkook says as he approaches Jimin and pulls him in.

“You literally always have cat hair all over you.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Jimin leans against the solid wall of Jungkook’s body, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, even if it’s only for a moment. Jungkook nuzzles his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck, and he shivers.

“Thank you for coming,” Jimin says, pulling away and looking up at him. Jungkook is looking at him in a way he never has before—or if he did, Jimin never noticed it. His eyes are a mix of fondness and something else. Something like hunger.

“Of course,” Jungkook says, stepping back and taking a few steps towards the kitchen. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

Jimin nods. “Sure.”

Jungkook cracks open the bottle, then pulls two wine glasses out of the cupboard, still familiar with where everything lives due to his extended stay here. He pours them each a glass, then sets Jimin’s down on his side of the counter.

“Do you need help cooking dinner?” Jungkook asks.

“I was going to try to cook something, but I was actually wondering if you would be okay with us getting food delivered instead,” Jimin says sheepishly. “I haven’t cooked in forever, and I couldn’t figure out what to make—”

“Of course,” Jungkook says, taking his glass of wine and heading over to the living room. He lowers himself down on the couch, careful not to spill. “We can do whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay,” Jimin says, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He joins Jungkook on the couch, and after scrolling through Jimin’s phone and looking at options, they decide on fried chicken. Once it’s ordered, with an ETA of 30 minutes until delivery, Jimin sets down his phone on the coffee table and leans back into the couch cushions, glancing over at Jungkook nervously.

He hadn’t anticipated how awkward this would be. It’s not that he feels awkward around Jungkook, but this transition—transitioning from eight years of friendship into something more—he’s not really sure how to go about it. He hadn’t even told Jungkook directly earlier, when he invited him over, that this was what the dinner date symbolized, but he had at least implied it. Should he say something? Or does Jungkook already know what it means? Jimin can feel his face beginning to flush as his mind powers into overdrive.

“What are you thinking about?”  

Jimin blinks, startled out of his thoughts. Jungkook has shifted closer to him on the couch, so close that their thighs are almost touching. He’s leaning forward, with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees, angled towards Jimin and looking at him curiously. A lock of loose, wavy hair falls down in front of his eye. Jimin immediately contemplates death.

“You,” Jimin says.

“Me?” Jungkook asks. “What have I done to deserve such an honor?”

“Nothing. I think about you all the time,” Jimin says honestly.

Jungkook’s face softens, shifting from playfulness into something a bit more serious. “I think about you all the time, too.”

Suddenly, in the small space between their bodies on the couch, Jimin feels the warmth of Jungkook’s hand encapsulating his own.

Jimin looks up at him, questioning.

“To be honest, it’s hard for me to believe that this is really happening,” Jungkook says softly. 

“I know what you mean,” Jimin says. He intertwines his fingers with Jungkook’s. “But it’s probably because nothing has really happened yet.”

Jungkook nods, gaze drifting down to Jimin’s mouth.

“You’ve been very patient,” Jimin says.

“That is one of my finer qualities.”

“It was important to me that the timing is right,” Jimin says. He squeezes Jungkook’s hand. “That we’re doing this right.”

“I know.”

“That’s why I asked you to come over tonight.”

Jungkook is still staring at Jimin intensely. Jimin matches his stare, not shying away from his gaze, although it’s difficult. 

“I didn’t want to assume anything, but that’s what I was hoping,” Jungkook says.

“You were?”

“Why are you surprised?” Jungkook asks. “Of course I was.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says, shaking his head and laughing nervously. “I guess I’m just—I’m still not used to this. To the way you feel about me.”

“I would like for you to get used to it,” Jungkook says. His thumb strokes over the back of Jimin’s hand. 

Jungkook is so close to him—his warmth and his scent and his touch, all so tantalizingly close—that Jimin can feel himself being sucked in, like he’s trapped in a magnetic field.

“But I don’t want to rush you,” Jungkook adds.

“I would love to be rushed. In fact, I’m in a big hurry.”

Jungkook smiles, his nose scrunching. His hand leaves Jimin’s, then, and comes to land on Jimin’s knee instead. Jimin inhales sharply.

“I’ve spent so much time thinking about that night on the swing,” Jungkook says quietly. His voice is lower than before. 

“Me too.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting you to do, but it wasn’t that.”

Jimin smiles, glancing away. “Well, an opportunity presented itself. One I didn’t ever think I would have.”

Jungkook frowns at that. “You shouldn’t have felt that way. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey,” Jimin says, turning back towards him. “Don’t say that. Remember what I said that night? We shouldn’t think about the what ifs. Besides, if you’re stupid, I’m stupider. It’s fine. The way it happened led us here, didn’t it? You’re here with me now. That’s what matters.”

“I know. But I still feel like… I haven’t even really had a chance, yet, to talk to you about how I feel.”

The doorbell rings.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh, removing his hand from Jimin’s knee.

Jimin didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until Jungkook gets up to answer the door and he’s left alone.

Jungkook accepts the fried chicken from the delivery man, then turns back to Jimin after closing the door, two boxes in hand. “Couch? Or kitchen table?”

“Probably table,” Jimin says, getting up. “We got the messy kind.”

They sit down at the table, and Jungkook laughs as he pours himself another small glass of wine. “If I knew we were having chicken, I would have brought beer, not this.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin says. “You didn’t know I was going to cop out and order chicken.”

“It’s not a cop out,” Jungkook says. “And you know I love chicken.”

“Yes,” Jimin says, smiling. “Ever since I met you.”

“I am a simple man,” Jungkook says, biting into a drumstick. “I love animals, and I love eating chicken. Which is sort of, uh, contradictory, but.”

“Recognizing that is the first step to recovery.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. “Unfortunately for me, my days of eating chicken are probably numbered. I think it’s only because I’ve never really encountered chickens in real life. After I treated a couple of pigs in vet school, you know I could never eat pork again.”

It’s true. Jungkook’s days of enjoying samgyeopsal are years behind him. They hardly ever go out for barbecue because of it.

“Once I meet a chicken in real life, I think I’ll be done for,” Jungkook says.

“Have you ever seen those really cute and fluffy ones? I think they’re called Silkie chickens. They’re all poofy, like dogs.”

Jungkook pauses, drumstick halfway to his mouth. “This is not the time to have this conversation with me.”

Jimin bursts into laughter. “Sorry.”

Their conversation flows easily over the rest of dinner, and Jimin feels like some of the tension between them was thankfully broken by their brief chat on the couch. It had been hanging unspoken between them—their feelings, where they stand, what they want. Jimin knows they still have a lot to talk about, but at least they’re on the same page.

It’s all pretty distracting, however, and Jimin doesn’t feel very hungry. At least not for food. He picks at a couple pieces of chicken, but the majority of his meal is spent staring at Jungkook across the table with fond eyes, watching him eat and talk animatedly and feeling his heart swell to twice its normal size.

Jimin feels the same way he always has, but now he can lean into it. Long for it. This love is finally his to taste, and he will.

When they’re done eating, Jungkook helps him clean up, collecting the plates and boxes from the table and bringing the wine glasses into the kitchen. He gathers the garbage and throws it all away, and then he wipes down the table.

Jimin is standing at the sink, rinsing their plates, when he feels Jungkook’s body press up behind him. It catches him off guard.

“Hi,” Jimin says, breath hitching in his throat. 

Jungkook’s hands slide around Jimin’s waist, pulling him back slightly so that his body is flush against Jungkook. 

“Hi,” Jungkook replies, his mouth near Jimin’s ear. “Do you have to do the dishes right now?”

“I definitely don’t have to do the dishes right now.”

“I know you said I’ve been very patient… but.”

Jimin leans back against him, heart pounding, and Jungkook slides his hands down lower, slowly, until they’re resting on Jimin’s hips.

“Jungkook,” Jimin breathes.

“Is this okay?”

“This is very okay.”

Jungkook noses along the side of Jimin’s neck. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, lips moving against Jimin’s skin as he speaks, velvety soft.

“You can kiss me anytime. Whenever you want.”

“Now seems good,” Jungkook says, gently spinning Jimin around to face him. Before Jimin can fully register what’s happening, he’s yelping in surprise as Jungkook grabs him firmly by the waist, then hoists him up to sit on the counter.

“What are you—”

Jungkook steps into the space between Jimin’s legs, hands still resting on his waist. They’re about eye level at this height.

“I always thought about doing this,” Jungkook murmurs, thumbs tracing small circles over Jimin’s stomach. “When I would sit and watch you baking in the kitchen. It was wrong. But I always thought about it.”

“Oh,” Jimin says weakly.

“Are we done waiting?”

Jimin nods, hands skittering up Jungkook’s chest, then up around his neck. “We’re done waiting.”

And then he leans in—and Jungkook leans in, too—and then they’re kissing, a tangle of limbs and fast-beating hearts in Jimin’s kitchen. 

This is not like the swing. The kissing on the swing was cautious, exploratory, done in a state of half-shock and relative bewilderment. This is something completely different—it’s claiming each other, selfishly taking what they’ve fought so hard for, urgent as though it could be snatched away at any moment.

Jungkook tugs him closer, and Jimin moans into his mouth, which he would ordinarily be embarrassed about, but he figures it’s hardly a secret now what Jungkook does to him, anyway. He feels like he’s coming apart in Jungkook’s hands, his whole body on edge, feeling like a live wire now that he’s finally being given the chance to stake his claim—saying with his mouth what he’s always wanted so badly to say with his voice: you’re mine.

And Jimin wants to know everything about Jungkook’s body. He wants to know it well enough to recall it vividly, to memorize it so clearly that he can feel it when he closes his eyes. All of it—the taste of Jungkook’s mouth, sweet and previously forbidden. The feeling of Jungkook’s hard stomach under Jimin’s palms, heaving with labored breath. The softness of his hair, silky strands tangled in Jimin’s fingers as he tugs Jungkook’s lips impossibly closer to his own.

He’ll never be satisfied. He’ll always want more of this. He went too long without it.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs against Jimin’s mouth, hands dragging down to grip Jimin’s thighs, fingers pressing. He’s breathing hard. “Please tell me if you want me to stop—”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Jimin practically gasps. He starts unbuttoning down the front of Jungkook’s shirt, not even really bothering to detach himself from Jungkook’s mouth. He has to tug on the bottom of it in order to get it untucked, but after some fumbling, all the buttons are undone and he’s able to slide it back off Jungkook’s shoulders, leaving him in only his jeans.

He’s golden in the light of the kitchen, sculpted and bare and so perfect that Jimin can’t tell if he’s feeling compelled to cry, beg, or both.

He trails a line of kisses down Jungkook’s jaw, over the smooth column of his throat, down to his shoulders, his collarbones. His hands explore Jungkook’s naked body greedily, palms running over his stomach, his chest, revelling in the warmth and smoothness of Jungkook’s skin, the contrast of how soft it is in comparison to the hard muscles that lay underneath. 

All this attention seems to be making things a little difficult for Jungkook. He’s whining, high in the back of his throat, and he has a death grip on the hair at the nape of Jimin’s neck. When Jimin drags his fingertips over Jungkook’s nipples, his whole body jerks. It is, decisively, the hottest thing Jimin has ever seen.

He’s not sure if he’ll survive the night. 

“Off,” Jungkook says in a moment of clarity, tugging at the hem of Jimin’s sweater. Jimin cooperates, lifting his arms so that Jungkook can pull it off. The drag of Jungkook’s fingertips across his bare skin makes him shiver.

“Bedroom,” Jungkook says, leaning in to slide his hands underneath Jimin’s butt. Jimin understands the message, looping his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around his body, and then Jungkook lifts him, pivoting backwards and carrying him out of the kitchen.

“You’re talking like a caveman,” Jimin says, nose brushing against Jungkook’s cheek.

“You make me feel like a caveman,” Jungkook says, sounding exasperated. Jimin laughs. 

“You’re sure this is okay?” Jungkook asks him once they reach the threshold of Jimin’s bedroom. “This isn’t too fast?”

“I’ve waited eight years for this. It’s not too fast.”

He’s dropped down onto his mattress, then, and Jungkook climbs on top of him, sinking down onto his body. The weight of him is intoxicating.

“What do you want to do? I’ll do anything,” Jungkook says, hands roaming down to skim across the waistband of Jimin’s boxers. “Whatever you want.”

Jimin looks up at him with dark eyes. His chest is starting to flush pink. He traces the muscles of Jungkook’s back, trying to catch his breath before he answers.

“Want you inside me,” Jimin breathes. “Want to be yours. Just want to be yours. That’s all I want.”

Jungkook takes a shaky breath, lips ghosting over Jimin’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks. “Okay. Yes, okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of removing Jimin’s jeans and underwear, and after Jimin fetches some lube from his nightstand, he coaxes Jimin to spread his legs so he can position himself between them. It’s been a long time for Jimin—he knows it’s going to be a stretch, and it’s not going to be easy, but if there’s anyone he can trust to treat him with gentle, loving care, it’s Jungkook.

And he does: he starts slow, with one finger, barely moving past the first knuckle until he’s confident that Jimin is ready for more. He distracts Jimin from the uncomfortable stretch by using his other hand to slowly drag up his cock, pumping slowly, and Jimin quickly turns into a mess of curses and broken moans beneath him. 

Jungkook showers him with praise, although Jimin is barely coherent enough to acknowledge it. But the words are like hot embers, fanning the flames, and with each promise and sweet nothing that Jungkook murmurs against Jimin’s thigh, they’re making this real—speaking it out into the open, committing to this love they’ve made.

“You are so beautiful,” Jungkook is whispering now, three fingers deep, as this pleasure and torture stretches on and on. Jimin is seeing stars behind his eyes, the galaxy they’re creating together. 

“Want you,” Jimin manages to gasp, and Jungkook slowly slides out, leaving Jimin shaking and breathless as he reaches for a condom and rolls it on with trembling hands. 

“Please tell me if I’m hurting you,” Jungkook says softly, pressing Jimin’s legs a little further apart and lining himself up to push inside him.

Jimin nods, burning up with want, swirling deep in the pit of his belly.

It does hurt at first—even three fingers don’t really compare to Jungkook’s girth, but Jungkook seems to realize that, moving impossibly slow as he slides in, eyes searching Jimin’s face to make sure he’s alright. Jungkook sinks down once he’s situated, drawing himself closer to Jimin’s body, leaning on his arms so he doesn’t crush him.

It’s overwhelming, almost too much, but Jungkook keeps talking to him, far more chatty than Jimin ever expected him to be during sex, and the sweetness of his words dulls the ache until he’s adjusted, and all that’s left after that is pleasure. Burning hot pleasure, so intense he can hardly breathe.

As Jungkook moves inside him, so carefully and tenderly, Jimin finds unexpected tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He wraps his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders and pulls him down closer, bringing their foreheads together.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, breathing fast. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Jimin chokes out, and then he tangles a hand in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Jungkook groans into his mouth, deepening his thrusts, and Jimin’s back arches as Jungkook drags along his prostate.

Jungkook buries his face in Jimin’s neck, his breath hot against Jimin’s skin, and as he lets himself go, allows himself to be a little more forceful, to move a little faster, Jimin realizes he had no idea that sex could even be like this. To love someone so fiercely, emotion running hot through your veins, spilling everything into each other, blurring the lines between touch and taste and feeling—he’s never felt pleasure like this. He’s never loved like this. And he knows he’ll never love like this again.

Jungkook taught him how to love, patiently and earnestly, and Jungkook is the person he’ll love for the rest of his life.

The realization crashes over Jimin like an ocean wave.

“Tell me I’m yours,” Jimin pants out between moans, fingers still tangled in Jungkook’s hair. “Tell me that I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, sweetheart,” Jungkook says breathlessly, and the pet name makes something twist in Jimin’s insides. “You’re mine. And I’m yours—I p-promise you that. Let me be yours. Tell me you want that.”

“I want that,” Jimin says, back arching under Jungkook’s hands. “I want that, I want that, I want you—”

Jungkook’s fingers dig into Jimin’s waist hard enough to bruise, and Jimin can tell he’s getting close—his thrusts are getting faster, his rhythm is becoming a little irregular, and he’s chanting Jimin’s name, all his muscles tensed tightly enough to snap. Jimin has been teetering on the edge, coil wound tight in his stomach, untouched since Jungkook slid inside him.

“If you—if you touch me, I’ll come,” Jimin says, cheeks flushed as he gazes up through his lashes at Jungkook. “Do you want me to?”

“God, yes,” Jungkook says with a shuddery breath, reaching into the space between their bodies and taking Jimin’s cock in his hand. He begins to stroke him, and Jimin immediately cries out, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as the sensations rock through his body, ramping up to an explosion far more quickly than he thought. It only takes a few strokes for him to come all over his stomach and Jungkook’s hand, clenching down hard around Jungkook as the orgasm crashes over him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook swears, head dropping onto Jimin’s shoulder. Through Jimin’s own blinding pleasure, he realizes that Jungkook is coming, too—his entire body shudders, and he moans loud, gravelly and breathless. The pace of his thrusts slows down as he spills into the condom, and then he collapses on top of Jimin, panting, their bodies a sticky mess.

Jimin closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around Jungkook and squeezing. Jungkook lets out a little groan in response, confirming he’s still alive.

They just lay there for a while—hearts pounding, chests heaving, clutching each other tightly. Eventually, once they’ve caught their breath, Jungkook pulls out, and Jimin winces at the feeling. Jungkook eases his weight off him, pushing back onto his knees and sliding off the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

He returns a couple of minutes later with a warm washcloth, and he wipes down Jimin tenderly, swatting Jimin’s hands away when Jimin tries to take it and do it himself. When he’s done, Jimin pulls him back down onto the bed, and he ends up lying on his side, facing Jimin. He props his head up on his hand, and Jimin nestles his head into the nook between his bicep and forearm, sneaking in a quick peck on Jungkook’s lips.

“That was fun, I guess,” Jungkook says with a perfectly straight face.

Jimin looks at him incredulously, and then Jungkook bursts into laugher, wrapping his free arm around Jimin and pulling him in close.

“You were amazing,” he says quietly, placing a kiss on the tip of Jimin’s nose. “I wanted—I wanted this for a really long time, and I had always thought about what… what it would be like, you know? But I couldn’t have imagined this.”

“I know what you mean,” Jimin says. He reaches up, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away from Jungkook’s brow. “I’ve spent a lot of time imagining it, too.”

“Was it better than what you imagined?”

Jimin nods. “Much better.”

“Good,” Jungkook says, his eyes sparkling like gems. “I love you.”

“It feels good to say that, huh?”

Jungkook laughs, nodding. “Feels really good. I want to say it more.”

“Go ahead.”

“Park Jimin, I love you,” Jungkook says, dimples poking into his cheeks as he smiles. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than I could ever express with these three dumb words. But I am going to keep saying them anyway, because it feels nice, and I spent too long not saying it.”

“Maybe tell me one more time, just for good measure.”

“I love you.”

Jimin smiles. “Okay, maybe just once more.”

Jungkook bites down on Jimin’s shoulder playfully. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimin says, laughing. He feels so warm, so radiant. “I love you. I love you so much. I love you very significantly. Frighteningly. Unendingly.”

Jungkook pulls him into a kiss, soft and sweet, and Jimin wishes it could last forever.

——— 

one year later 

——— 

Jimin is sliding a baking sheet out of the oven, stuffed to the brim with slightly overbaked chocolate chip cookies, when he hears the sound of keys and footsteps outside the front door. Dae starts meowing loudly, hopping down from his perch on the cat tree and trotting across the living room to sit in front of the front door, waiting patiently, his tail swishing.

It opens a moment later, and Jungkook bursts through, wearing grey scrubs and carrying a giant bag of cat food. Dae’s meowing intensifies, and he trots forward, rubbing his face against Jungkook’s pant leg.

“Hi, honey,” Jimin says, turning to smile at Jungkook as he sets the baking sheet down. “How was your day?”

“Really good,” Jungkook says, taking off his shoes and leaning down to place the cat food on the floor. He gives Dae a few scratches under his chin, and then Haru comes running out from their bedroom, quickly approaching him and intercepting the chin scratches. 

Jungkook pulls himself upright, then walks over to the kitchen, leaning down to kiss Jimin on the cheek as he transfers his cookies onto a wire cooling rack. Jimin turns his head, planting a kiss on Jungkook’s mouth instead.

“Are you going to the gym with Tae?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook nods. “I just need to get changed first. And chug some water. Honestly, he’s starting to terrify me. I think he can bench press more than me at this point.”

“I find it very confusing, but I’ve learned not to question anything he does at this point. He simply does what he wants.”

“That is true,” Jungkook says, laughing. “How was your day, hmm? Classes were okay?”

“They were good,” Jimin confirms. “I had to have a chat with one student about plagiarism, but that was the only thing that was particularly eventful.”

“You’re kidding. Someone plagiarized?”

Jimin nods.

“In a class that teaches them how to be… ethical?”

“That is correct.”

“You have far more patience than me,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

“If you heard the lecture I gave, I don’t know if you would be saying that,” Jimin says, laughing. “I may or may not have made this student cry. Like, accidentally. Unintentionally.”

“Well, you are very scary when you’re mad. I can’t blame them.”

“Please. I’m not scary.”

“Yes you are!” Jungkook says. “I think I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell you you’re scary when you’re mad.”

“You hardly know me,” Jimin says, scoffing as he bites into a cookie.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. I have known you for almost ten years.”

“Fine, maybe you know me a little,” Jimin says, handing him a cookie. Jungkook accepts it gratefully, consuming the entire thing in approximately two bites.

“Don’t come home too late. I wanna watch at least two episodes of that new drama with you later. We’re falling behind. I need to be able to check Twitter without risking spoilers.”

“I didn’t forget,” Jungkook assures him. “I, too, am invested.”

“Good. Do you want another cookie for the road?”

“By the road, do you mean, like, the hallway? Because, if so, then yes.”

Jimin hands him one, and then Jungkook ducks down for another kiss, peppering multiple rapid-fire ones across Jimin’s nose and cheeks. 

“You are alarmingly affectionate,” Jimin tells him, wiping his hands on a dish towel. 

“So? You love it.”

“I do,” Jimin agrees, breaking into a grin. He steps forward, winding his arms around Jungkook’s neck. “And I love you.”

“Good,” Jungkook says, pulling him in closer. “I love you too. And I’ll never get tired of telling you.”