Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jimin wedged his phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled with the box in his hands, kicking the apartment door open. “Yes, Eomma, we got here fine. Yes, Tae is here too. No, I haven’t lost anything yet—”

“Yet,” Taehyung muttered from behind him, carrying two boxes stacked on top of each other like they weighed nothing.

Jimin shot him a glare as he set his own box down on the kitchen counter with a huff. “I heard that.”

“Because I wanted you to.”

Before Jimin could retaliate, his mother’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Taehyung-ah, is Jimin behaving?”

Taehyung, the traitor, grinned as he leaned against the counter, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. “Oh, you know him, Eomma. He already tried to carry more than he should, but don’t worry—I’m keeping an eye on him.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Mom, did you hear that? He’s talking like he’s my babysitter.”

His mother laughed. “Sweetheart, I’ve told you this before—Taehyung is your babysitter. You’re my precious son, but let’s be honest, he’s the responsible one.”

Jimin pouted, dropping into one of the barstools by the kitchen island. “I’m older.”

Taehyung scoffed, plopping down beside him. “By a few months .”

“Still counts.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m more mature.”

Jimin rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw his past lives. “You literally spent the entire car ride here making baby noises at stray dogs.”

“Because they love me ,” Taehyung said, completely serious.

Jimin groaned and let his forehead drop against the counter. His mother, still on the line, let out an amused hum. “See? This is why I trust Taehyung to look after you.”

“Unbelievable,” Jimin grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

His mom’s voice softened. “Just promise me you’ll both take care of each other, alright? Jimin-ah, I know you’re excited, but don’t overdo it, okay?”

Jimin felt a little twist in his chest but quickly pushed it aside, forcing a smile into his voice. “I’ll be fine, Eomma.”

Taehyung gave him a knowing look but didn’t say anything, only raising a pinky in Jimin’s direction. “We promise.”

Jimin linked their pinkies together, and his mother sighed in relief. “Good. Now, I’ll let you both go unpack. Call me if you need anything.”

They said their goodbyes, and Jimin finally hung up, exhaling as he tossed his phone onto the counter. Taehyung watched him carrying the last box, arms crossed.

“Before you even start,” Jimin warned, pointing a finger at him, “I am being careful.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow before glancing at the stack of boxes still sitting by the door. “Then be careful by putting down the heavy stuff before you pass the fuck out.”

Jimin huffed. “I got it.”

Taehyung stared at him for a moment longer before shaking his head, choosing his battles. “Alright, hyung ,” he drawled, the hyung feeling foreign on his tongue since it was barely used, clearly unimpressed.

Jimin stuck his tongue out, but he did set down the box in his hands with a little more care than before. The truth was, he did feel a little winded, but that was normal. Nothing to fuss over.

Taehyung gave him one last once-over before changing the subject. “So… nervous?”

Jimin blinked. “Huh?”

“About the team.”

“Oh.” Jimin glanced at the soccer jersey he had draped over one of the boxes, the school’s emblem stitched neatly into the fabric. He’d been so caught up in the move that he hadn’t let himself really feel anything about it yet.

He shrugged. “Not really. I just… want to make the most of it.”

Taehyung’s smile softened. “It'll be great.”

They fell into comfortable silence as they began setting up the apartment. Jimin’s new room was smaller than his old one, but it was cozy. He set his record player on the bedside table, stacking his small collection of vinyl beside it. A few of his old plushies—ones he would absolutely deny having if Taehyung asked—were placed strategically on his bed. Taehyung, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, meticulously arranging the coffee mugs in the cupboard.

“Did you pack anything useful?” Jimin called from the hallway.

“I packed all the important things.”

Jimin peeked inside the kitchen and immediately groaned. “We have an entire cabinet just for your expensive teas, Tae. Where are the plates?”

Taehyung looked completely unbothered. “We can buy plates. My tea collection is irreplaceable.”

Jimin shook his head, laughing. He walked over to the fridge and stuck a few of his old polaroids to the door, stepping back to admire them. One was from their high school graduation, their arms slung around each other. Another was from last summer, when they’d gone to the beach and Jimin had buried Taehyung in the sand up to his neck. The apartment was still new, still foreign, but with each little personal touch, it started to feel more like theirs. Jimin exhaled, rolling his shoulders. This was a fresh start. A new city, a new school, a new team. He didn’t know what was coming, but for now, he let himself smile. For now, things were good.

The afternoon air was crisp, the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingering as Jimin and Taehyung made their way down the paved walkway leading to the soccer field. The sound of cleats against turf, the occasional sharp whistle, and the distant shouts of teammates filled the space ahead of them. Jimin rolled his shoulders as they neared the metal bleachers. "You didn’t have to come, you know," he said, though he appreciated Taehyung’s presence more than he’d admit.

"And miss the grand debut of Park Jimin?" Taehyung smirked, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Not a chance. Besides, someone has to be here to document your first time setting foot on enemy territory."

Jimin snorted, nudging him with his shoulder. "It's our field, Tae, not enemy territory. Besides we're just checking out the team"

"For now," Taehyung replied cryptically.

Jimin ignored him, his attention already shifting toward the team practicing in the distance. The players moved in sync, their passes sharp, their formations fluid. Even in what looked like a preseason drill, there was a clear hierarchy, a natural flow.

Taehyung let out a low whistle. "Damn, they’re good."

Jimin hummed in agreement, scanning the field, his eyes catching on one player in particular. He didn’t stand out because of his size—though he was built solid, lean muscle evident even under the loose practice jersey—but because of the way he moved. Lightning-quick footwork, precise control. Every motion was calculated, efficient. He took the ball from one teammate and cut through the field like he was born on it, like there was no world outside the grass beneath his feet.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. "Who's that?"

Taehyung followed his gaze, tilting his head as he observed. "No clue. But he’s a damn good striker."

Jimin watched as the player pivoted, barely hesitating before sending the ball flying toward the net. The goalkeeper barely had time to react before it slammed into the back of the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

"Holy shit," Taehyung muttered, blinking. "Okay. That was insane."

Jimin snorted. "You’re ridiculous."

"I'm just saying, if this whole soccer thing doesn't work out for you, at least you'll get to look at nice things while you fail."

Jimin smacked his arm. "I hate you."

Taehyung grinned, rubbing his arm dramatically. "That’s no way to treat your emotional support best friend."

Rolling his eyes, Jimin turned back to the field. The mystery player jogged back to his position, barely winded. Jimin could already tell—this guy wasn’t just a good player. He was someone people watched. Someone whose presence made an impact.

"Think you can keep up with him?" Taehyung asked, studying Jimin.

Jimin hesitated for a fraction of a second. He knew he was good. He'd worked too hard, fought through too much to doubt himself now. But this was a new team, a new environment, and this player… he played like someone who owned the field.

Taehyung, perceptive as always, caught the flicker of uncertainty. He slung an arm around Jimin’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Hey, you’re gonna do great."

Jimin exhaled softly, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "Thanks, Tae."

"Anytime," Taehyung said breezily, then smirked. "And if you don’t, at least you’ll be the prettiest player on the team."

Jimin laughed, the nervous tension in his chest easing just a little. For now, he let himself take in the field, the team, and the unknowns ahead. Because even if he didn’t know what was coming, he had a feeling this was only the beginning.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the small apartment, mixing with the rich aroma of eggs and toast as Jimin moved around the kitchen. He scooped a spoonful of strawberry jam onto his plate, spreading it over his toast in slow, lazy strokes. Across from him, Taehyung leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him like a hawk. Jimin didn’t even need to look up to feel it. With a knowing smirk, he took a bite of his toast before drawling, “Tae, you’re staring.”

Taehyung didn’t even try to deny it. “You’re sure you’re up for this today?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, chewing deliberately before answering. “I’m not dying , Taehyung.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Taehyung’s jaw tensed, the light in his eyes dimming just a little.

Jimin sighed, setting his toast down. “Tae.”

Taehyung pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I just…” He gestured vaguely, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his arm. “You push yourself too hard sometimes. You know that.”

Jimin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know my limits.”

Taehyung didn’t look convinced.

Jimin softened, nudging Taehyung’s knee with his own. “Hey,” he murmured, “I’m gonna be fine, alright? I’ve done this before. It’s just practice.”

Taehyung studied him for a long moment, eyes scanning his face like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. Jimin met his gaze head-on, steady and unwavering. Eventually, Taehyung sighed. He could argue—God knew he wanted to—but he also knew Jimin. Once his mind was set, there was no shaking him. So instead, he nodded, choosing—for now—to believe in him.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

Jimin grinned, picking his toast back up and taking another bite. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Taehyung snorted, shoving Jimin’s shoulder playfully before turning to pour himself another cup of coffee. Jimin finished up his breakfast, rinsed his plate, and slung his gear bag over his shoulder. As he headed toward the door, he glanced back once more. Taehyung was watching him again. But this time, he was smiling. Jimin returned it, warmth spreading through his chest as he stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Nervous? Maybe a little. Excited? Absolutely. This was his fresh start. And he was going to make the most of it.

Jimin stood at the edge of the field, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as the team gathered around the coach. The scent of fresh grass mixed with the faint remnants of summer heat, and the sky stretched wide above them, a clear blue canvas that made everything feel bigger . He had met with Coach Kang before today, had sat in his office and carefully explained his condition—not in full detail, but just enough for the older man to understand. They had come to an agreement: no special treatment, no mention of it to anyone else. Jimin would handle himself. And he would handle himself. No matter what.

Coach clapped his hands together, gathering the team’s attention. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We have a new transfer joining us this season. Let’s make sure he feels at home.”

Jimin exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as the coach gestured for him to step forward. A dozen curious eyes turned toward him.

“Go on, introduce yourself.”

Jimin offered a small smile, shoving his nerves aside as he met the gazes of his new teammates. “Hey, I’m Park Jimin, twenty-two from Busan. I’ve been playing soccer for as long as I can remember, and I’m a communications major.”

There were scattered smiles and nods, a few guys muttering greetings, and one even letting out a low whistle. “Damn, another Busan boy?”

“You and Jungkook should get along then,” another said with a chuckle.

Jimin didn’t miss the way the team subtly shifted, parting just slightly to reveal the player he’d seen last time—the one that had stood out .

Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin felt a flicker of something sharp and unfamiliar settle in his chest as Jungkook remained silent, not even looking in his direction. While the others had smiled, nodded, or acknowledged his presence, Jungkook did none of those things. His expression was blank, arms crossed over his chest, gaze fixed somewhere past Jimin like he wasn’t even worth sparing a glance. Something about the cold dismissal made Jimin’s stomach twist, but he shoved it down, keeping the easy smile on his face. Coach Kang, seemingly oblivious to the tension, clapped a hand on Jimin’s shoulder before gesturing toward the rest of the team. “Alright, let’s go around and introduce everyone. I’m sure you’ll get to know them soon enough, but for now—” He pointed at a tall guy with a kind face and a broad build. “This is Jin. Our goalkeeper. You’ll hear him yelling a lot, but don’t take it personally.”

Jin grinned. “Only when you guys screw up.”

The team chuckled, and Jimin relaxed a little as the introductions continued. Seokjin, Hoseok, Minho, and a few others—each of them welcoming in their own way. It wasn’t until Coach got to Jungkook that the tension in the air sharpened again.

“And this,” Coach said, tilting his head toward Jungkook, “is Jeon Jungkook. Our ace.”

Jimin could have guessed that himself. The way Jungkook moved on the field, the way he commanded attention, the sheer presence he carried—he was someone people watched, someone who didn’t need a title to be recognized as the best.

Coach smiled. “You’ll be working with him a lot. Jungkook, help him out, yeah? Show him the ropes.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. For the first time, he looked directly at Jimin.

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t even neutral. It was annoyance , clear as day. Jimin felt his grip tighten around the hem of his jersey. Still, he didn’t let it show. He kept his expression light, his posture relaxed, even as something uncomfortable settled beneath his ribs. Jungkook didn’t say anything. Didn’t nod, didn’t smile, didn’t anything . Coach moved on without acknowledging the reaction, launching into practice drills. Jimin exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. Focus on the guys who had welcomed him. Focus on the excitement of being part of a new team. Focus on anything other than the one person who, for some reason, already seemed to dislike him.

The team split into groups, and Jimin fell into step with Hoseok and Jin. They were both friendly, Hoseok especially—he had an easygoing energy that made conversation effortless.

“You played for your old university’s team, right?” Hoseok asked as they jogged to the practice cones.

“Yeah,” Jimin replied. “I was a starting winger for two years.”

“Impressive,” Jin noted, adjusting his wristband. “They had a solid team last season.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m hoping to keep up here too.”

Hoseok nudged him playfully. “With that attitude, you’ll fit right in.”

Jimin glanced toward the far end of the field where Jungkook was stretching, still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Or maybe, Jimin thought with a wry tilt of his lips, he wouldn’t fit right in. Regardless, he wasn’t here to make enemies. He was here to play. And he wasn’t going to let anyone—not even Jeon Jungkook—shake him. At least, that’s what he told himself.

The late summer sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the field. A light breeze carried the distant sound of traffic from beyond the campus walls, but here, at the edge of the pitch, it was just the soft scuff of cleats against grass and the occasional murmur of conversation as the team warmed up. Jimin stood near the sidelines, stretching out his legs as he observed the scene before him. It wasn’t an intense practice—Coach seemed to be taking it easy on everyone, probably because most of the guys were just coming back from break—but it was enough for Jimin to start getting a feel for how the team worked. He could already see the dynamics forming.

Jin, their goalkeeper, was loud and unfiltered, constantly calling out to his teammates mid-play, scolding and joking in the same breath. Hoseok, a midfielder with endless energy, seemed to be one of the friendliest, laughing easily with nearly everyone on the team. He was fast, too, weaving between players with practiced ease. Some guys naturally paired off, sticking close to whoever they seemed to trust most. But even in the midst of all that movement, one player stood out.

Jungkook.

Jimin didn’t even have to try to notice him. His presence demanded attention. It wasn’t just his skill—though that was obvious enough. It was how he played. Every movement was sharp, focused, but also incredibly natural, like he was built for the game. There was a certain fluidity to him, a balance of control and instinct that made even the simplest drills look effortless. Jimin’s gaze trailed lower, to the ink curling over Jungkook’s forearm. The black tattoos stood out starkly against the tanned skin, bold and unapologetic. His lip piercing caught the light every time he moved, a small but striking contrast against the rest of him.

He was built stronger than a few of the other players, his physique a little more refined, more powerful. But it wasn’t just his body that made him intimidating—it was how he carried himself. There was a kind of quiet ferocity in the way he played, an all-or-nothing attitude that didn’t waver. But at the same time, he didn’t seem like he was straining to be great. It was just his element . Like he belonged here more than anywhere else. Jimin swallowed.

Shit.

He was intrigued. And maybe just a little intimidated. Still, he wasn’t the type to shy away from competition. Jungkook might be a force to be reckoned with, but Jimin had spent years carving his own place in the game. If anything, this just made him want to prove himself even more. Not to Jungkook. Just… in general.

“Alright,” Coach’s voice cut through Jimin’s thoughts. “Break into pairs. Keep it light—just some passing drills to get back in rhythm.”

Jimin turned just in time to see most of the guys pairing off effortlessly, gravitating toward their usual partners. He hesitated for half a second, scanning for an open spot, when Jin jogged over with an easy grin.

“Hey, Jimin right? Wanna pair up?”

Jimin smiled, relieved. “Yeah, sounds good.”

They started with simple passes, keeping a steady rhythm as they settled into the drill. Hoseok was quick on his feet, and Jimin could already tell he had good chemistry with the rest of the team. He made small talk as they worked, making Jimin feel more at ease.

“I'm Jin, so,” Jin said between passes, “what do you think so far?”

Jimin exhaled through his nose, glancing around. “Seems like a solid team.”

“Not bad, right?” Jin grinned. “We’re a pretty easygoing group. Most of us, anyway.”

Jimin followed Jin's gaze just in time to see Jungkook launching a powerful pass across the field, his form flawless. He still hadn’t acknowledged Jimin’s existence. Not once.

Jimin hummed. “He always that intense?”

Jin scoffed. “Basically, kid's got no off-switch.”

Jimin didn’t know what it was—maybe curiosity, maybe something else—but he found himself watching the way Jungkook moved, the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration, the way he pushed himself like nothing else existed beyond the pitch. And then, as if sensing eyes on him, Jungkook turned. For a split second, Jimin thought their gazes might meet. But Jungkook’s eyes flickered past him, like he wasn’t even there.

Jimin clenched his jaw.

He wasn’t sure why it got under his skin, but something about the complete and utter disregard rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he didn’t let it show. He just smiled, brushing it off like it was nothing.

“Better get used to it,” Jin said, smirking as he bumped Jimin’s shoulder. “If you’re gonna be playing alongside him, you might be seeing that look a lot. It takes time for him to warm up to newcomers.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Lucky me.”

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon by the time Jimin made his way back to the apartment. The streets buzzed with life—students laughing as they walked past cafés, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from a nearby bakery, the occasional honk of a distant car—but Jimin barely registered any of it. His limbs felt heavy, his muscles sore in a way that settled deep, bone-deep. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the strap of his gear bag. His body was used to exhaustion—he’d spent years pushing himself to the limit, training through pain, ignoring the signals telling him to stop. But this?

This was different. Maybe it was the two-month break from structured training. Maybe it was just the habit of pushing himself too hard. His fingers curled slightly around the strap of his bag. Jimin clenched his jaw, pushing the thoughts aside, not letting himself dwell on those. Instead, he let his mind drift to the day itself, going over every detail as he walked.

It had been… decent. The team seemed nice, for the most part. Hoseok was friendly, Jin was loud in a way that reminded him of home, and Coach didn’t seem like the type to play favorites. The drills had been light, but it had been enough for Jimin to start finding his rhythm again. And then there was Jungkook. Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, his pace slowing slightly.

Jeon Jungkook.

The team’s ace. The one with the sharp footwork and sharper presence. The one who hadn’t spared Jimin so much as a glance, even when they’d been standing right next to each other. Jimin wasn’t sure why it bugged him. He wasn’t new to rivalry, to competition—he’d played against plenty of players with that same all-or-nothing attitude before. But something about Jungkook’s dismissal felt personal , even though Jimin knew it wasn’t.

Still, he shoved the thought away as his apartment building came into view. When he stepped inside, the space was quiet. Taehyung wasn’t back yet—probably still out exploring, or maybe getting coffee somewhere. Jimin barely had time to register the silence before a wave of exhaustion hit him all at once.

Shit.

He grabs the nearest wall to help balance himself, as he hadn't realized just how drained he was until now. As he got himself back together, he kicked off his shoes, barely managing to shrug his gear bag off his shoulder before dropping it onto the kitchen table with a dull thud . His muscles ached in a way that felt deeper than usual, his body sluggish, every movement heavier than it should’ve been. Maybe he’d overestimated himself. Maybe the two months without practice had taken more of a toll than he thought.

Either way, there was no way he was doing anything else tonight. Dragging himself toward the couch, Jimin barely had time to sink into the cushions before his body gave out completely.

The scent of something warm and savory stirred Jimin from the depths of sleep, pulling him back to consciousness in slow, hazy waves. His body felt heavy, limbs weighed down by exhaustion, but the smell of food—something rich, maybe soup?—was enough to coax him upright. He groaned softly, rubbing at his eyes as he pushed himself off the couch. His muscles protested, a dull ache settling deep in his legs and shoulders, but he ignored it as he trudged toward the kitchen.

Taehyung stood at the stove, humming quietly as he stirred a pot. His hair was a mess from the wind outside, and Jimin could tell from the faint scent of coffee in the air that he’d probably stopped by his favorite café on the way home. A lazy smile curled at Jimin’s lips as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist from behind and letting his weight rest against him.

Taehyung let out a startled laugh. “Yah—Jiminie, you’re gonna make me burn something.”

Jimin hummed, voice still thick with sleep. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes but let Jimin cling to him for a moment longer before playfully elbowing him in the stomach. “Go sit down, you oversized koala. Or better yet, go shower . You smell like sweat and grass.”

Jimin pouted, but Taehyung twisted in his arms just enough to shoot him a look—the kind that said no arguments .

“You slept in your gear?” Taehyung accused, glancing at the wrinkled jersey still clinging to Jimin’s frame. “Seriously?”

Jimin whined, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “I was tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Taehyung scoffed, then spun Jimin by the shoulders and shoved him toward the hallway. “Shower. Now.”

Jimin groaned but obeyed, shuffling toward the bathroom with all the grace of a half-dead zombie. He peeled off his jersey and shorts, stepping under the warm spray of water and letting it soothe some of the soreness from his muscles. The heat was comforting, sinking into his skin and loosening the knots in his shoulders.

By the time he stepped out, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, the tension in his body had eased, even if just a little. He slipped into a pair of loose sweats and a hoodie before padding back into the kitchen. Taehyung had already set the table, two steaming bowls of doenjang jjigae sitting between them, along with a side of rice and kimchi. Jimin plopped into the chair across from him, practically moaning at the first bite. “Tae, you’re an angel.”

Taehyung smirked. “I know.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Taehyung leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “So… first day. How was it?”

Jimin swallowed his bite of rice before answering. “It was great, actually. Most of the guys were really welcoming.”

Taehyung caught the hesitation in his voice immediately. “ Most ?”

Jimin huffed, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. “Yeah. There was one guy who wasn’t exactly thrilled to have me there apparently.”

Taehyung frowned. “Who?”

Jimin debated for a second before answering. “The standout player we saw that first day. Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s brows lifted in recognition. “Oh, him ?”

Jimin nodded, picking at his food. “Coach introduced me, and everyone was really nice—except for him. He didn’t even look at me, Tae. Like, not once.”

Taehyung hummed, tilting his head. “Did you… do something?”

Jimin blinked. “What? No.”

Taehyung studied him, like he was trying to find a missing piece of the puzzle. “Maybe he just doesn’t like new people.”

Jimin shrugged, deciding not to dwell on it. “Maybe.”

The sun blazed down mercilessly, casting sharp shadows across the field as the players lined up, sweat already beading at their temples. The faint scent of damp grass and worn leather cleats lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sounds of other students milling about the campus.

“Alright, listen up!” Coach Kang’s voice cut through the murmur of the team. His eyes scanned the group before settling on Jungkook, then flickering to Jimin.

Jimin straightened instinctively, heart thudding a little harder against his ribs.

“Jungkook,” Coach called, gesturing to him, “I want you working with Jimin today. Show him around. Make sure he’s up to speed.”

Jungkook, standing near the center of the field, barely reacted. His dark eyes flicked toward Jimin for the briefest moment before returning to the coach, expression unreadable.

Jimin swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm as the rest of the team exchanged amused glances. Jungkook’s lips pressed into a thin line, and though he didn’t say anything, Jimin caught the faintest flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

Great, Jimin thought. This is going to be fun.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook muttered, turning on his heel and jogging toward the far end of the field without waiting for Jimin

Jimin exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on the hem of his jersey before following. The drills started out simple—short passes, quick footwork, nothing too challenging. But Jimin could feel it almost immediately: Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Every pass was just a little too sharp, the ball flying at him with more force than necessary.  Every move Jungkook made was calculated, pushing Jimin just a little further than the others.

At first, Jimin tried to convince himself it was in his head. But by the fifth pass that nearly took his ankle out, he was sure of it. Jungkook wasn’t just being tough. Jimin clenched his jaw, refusing to let his frustration show. He matched Jungkook’s pace, pushing through the exhaustion creeping into his muscles. His lungs burned with the effort, but he wasn’t going to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

You’ve been through worse, Jimin reminded himself. This is nothing.

Jungkook’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, but Jimin caught the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes when Jimin returned every pass, every challenge, without missing a beat. They moved through the drills in tense silence. Jimin could feel the weight of Jungkook’s gaze with every step, every kick of the ball, but he kept his focus. And it was clear Jungkook wasn’t happy about it. The final straw came during a one-on-one scrimmage. Jungkook dribbled the ball with practiced ease, eyes narrowing as Jimin closed in on him. Jimin could see it—the sharp flick of Jungkook’s ankle, the precise angle as he sent the ball flying straight at him. It wasn’t a pass. It wasn’t even a play.

It was a challenge.

The ball slammed against Jimin’s shin guards with a force that sent a dull ache up his leg. But he didn’t flinch. Instead, he trapped the ball with his foot, steadying it before sending it right back to Jungkook. There was no mistaking the faint scowl that tugged at the corners of Jungkook’s mouth.

“ Water break! ” Coach Kang’s voice rang out across the field.

The other players didn’t need to be told twice, immediately jogging toward the sidelines where their water bottles waited. Jimin stayed where he was, bent slightly with his hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing. Sweat trickled down his temple, soaking into the collar of his jersey. Jungkook stood a few feet away, arms crossed, barely even winded. His dark eyes flicked to Jimin briefly before looking away, uninterested. The silence between them was deafening. Jimin tried to keep his breaths quiet, controlled. He could feel the fatigue creeping into his limbs, the familiar weight that came after pushing himself too hard. His body screamed for a break, but his pride wouldn’t let him move.

“ Jimin! ”

Jimin’s head snapped up, dread pooling in his stomach as Coach called out to him.

“Go drink water.”

Jimin froze, feeling every pair of eyes on him. Jungkook raised a brow, clearly noticing the oddity of it. Coach Kang never cared who took breaks or who didn’t. His practices were notorious for pushing players to their limits. Jimin’s jaw clenched. He hated this. Hated being singled out. He knew Coach meant well. They had discussed this—Coach had made it clear he wouldn’t hesitate to step in when he thought Jimin needed it. But that didn’t make it any less humiliating.

For a moment, Jimin considered ignoring the order. Just brushing it off and pretending he hadn’t heard. But the weight of Jungkook’s stare was too much. With a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Jimin straightened up, giving a small nod toward Coach before making his way to the sidelines. Behind him, Jungkook rolled his eyes, his expression unreadable but clearly annoyed.

Jungkook shook his head, pushing down the irritation bubbling inside him.

Jimin dragged his feet toward the sidelines, barely holding back a sigh as he reached for his water bottle. He unscrewed the cap and took a long sip, the cold liquid doing little to ease the burn in his throat and lungs. The ache in his legs was more noticeable now, and every muscle in his body felt stretched thin, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. No way in hell was he going to let anyone see how winded he really was—especially not him .

“Rough day?”

Jimin turned at the familiar voice to find Hoseok jogging up beside him, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead from sweat, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Yeah, well,” Jimin exhaled, a small smile breaking through, “I think Jungkook might actually be trying to kill me with a soccer ball so.”

Hoseok barked out a laugh, leaning back against the fence. “Sounds about right.”

Jimin raised a brow. “This is normal?”

“Oh, completely,” Hoseok deadpanned, then grinned. “That damn kid treats every practice like it’s fucking army training.”

Jimin huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I figured he’d be competitive, but I didn’t realize target practice was part of the training.”

Hoseok chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Honestly? Jungkook’s just... Jungkook. He’s always been like that with new guys. Tries to ‘test’ them, or whatever.”

“Test them?” Jimin repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Hoseok smirked. “He takes it upon himself to figure out if you’re ‘worthy’ of the team or some bullshit like that. Like some self-appointed gatekeeper.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but there was an amused glint in them. “And Coach just lets him do that?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Coach probably thinks it builds character.” Then, with a grin, he added, “Either that, or he’s secretly amused by Jungkook’s intimidation tactics.”

Jimin chuckled, the tension in his chest easing just a bit. “Great. Love that for me.”

“Hey,” Hoseok bumped Jimin’s shoulder playfully, “you held your own out there. Most guys would’ve cracked by now.”

Jimin’s smile softened. “Thanks.”

Hoseok nodded, glancing back toward the field where the rest of the team was gathering again. “Just don’t let him get in your head. That’s what he wants. Show him you can keep up, and he’ll back off eventually.”

“Eventually?” Jimin echoed with a teasing smirk.

“Well…” Hoseok chuckled. “Keyword: eventually. ”

Jimin laughed softly, taking one last sip from his bottle before capping it. “Noted. Thanks for the advice, Hoseok.”

“Anytime, and oh! You can just call me Hobi, it's what everyone calls me anyways - it's kind of weird to hear my full name.” Hoseok winked before jogging back onto the field.

Jimin lingered for a moment, stretching out his sore muscles. His gaze flicked to Jungkook, who stood near the goalpost, casually balancing the soccer ball on his knee like he hadn’t just spent the last hour trying to obliterate Jimin with it.

The sun had climbed higher, beating down mercilessly as practice wore on. The team moved through drills with varying levels of focus—some players already showing signs of fatigue, others, like Jungkook, still sharp as ever. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, doing his best to keep up despite the ache in his legs and the burning in his chest. They had moved on to shooting drills now. Every shot Jungkook took was blisteringly fast, perfectly aimed, and nearly impossible to stop. Even when Jimin managed to trap the ball from him, the sheer force behind each kick made his muscles strain. Still, Jimin refused to show any sign of weakness. He knew Jungkook was watching him. Waiting for him to falter. 

The drill continued, sweat trickling down Jimin’s temple as he focused, his heart pounding in his chest. Jungkook’s shots were brutal, but Jimin persisted. He adjusted, calculated, and met each pass with unwavering determination, even when it made his body scream in protest. But then it happened. It was subtle, almost too quick to catch. The slightest narrowing of Jungkook’s eyes, the faintest twitch of his lips. Jimin saw it a moment too late. Jungkook’s foot connected with the ball, sending it rocketing through the air—not toward the net, but straight at Jimin. The impact was immediate.

The ball slammed into Jimin’s chest with a force that knocked him off his feet. His body hit the ground hard, the wind completely knocked out of him. His lungs burned as he gasped for air that wouldn’t come, chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

“ Shit! ”

The exclamation came from Hoseok, who sprinted toward Jimin with Jin hot on his heels.

“Jimin!” Jin crouched down beside him, worry etched across his face. “Hey, you okay? Just breathe slowly c'mon…”

Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he struggled to inhale, panic bubbling just beneath the surface. His fingers dug into the grass beneath him, willing his body to cooperate.

“Jungkook, what the fuck ?” Hoseok snapped, glaring at the striker. “Are you serious right now?”

Jungkook, still standing where he’d taken the shot, barely blinked. “It slipped.”

“ Slipped ?” Jin repeated incredulously. “You’ve got better aim than half the national team, and we’re supposed to believe it slipped ?”

Jungkook shrugged, unbothered.

Jimin finally managed to suck in a shaky breath, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. His head spun for a moment as his lungs adjusted, but when he opened his eyes, they immediately locked onto Jungkook’s. He knew. Jungkook’s aim was immaculate. Every shot, every pass—pinpoint precise. There was no way that ball had just ‘slipped.’  Jimin gritted his teeth, forcing himself into a sitting position as Jin offered him a hand.

“Take it easy,” Jin muttered, helping him to his feet.

“Thanks,” Jimin breathed out, rubbing at his chest. His lungs still felt tight, but he was standing. That was what mattered. His gaze flicked back to Jungkook, who stared at him with that same unreadable expression, arms crossed over his chest like he wasn’t the least bit concerned.

Jimin could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin, every nerve in his body telling him to snap, to call Jungkook out for being a childish asshole. But then he thought better of it. Jungkook wanted a reaction. He wanted Jimin to lose his cool, to prove that he couldn’t handle the pressure. Instead, Jimin took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and without a word, jogged back into position. The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitched downward into the faintest scowl, his eyes narrowing slightly as Jimin ignored him completely.

“Unbelievable,” Jin muttered under his breath.

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “That damn kid.”

Jimin didn’t respond.

He just focused on the ball at his feet, the echo of Jungkook’s glare lingering in the back of his mind.

Let’s see how you like it when I don’t break.

The sound of water running, lockers slamming shut, and the quiet murmur of voices filled the locker room as practice wound down. The lingering ache in Jimin’s chest from Jungkook’s earlier shot had dulled to a faint throb, but the exhaustion weighed heavier than ever. His muscles screamed with fatigue as he sat on the bench, wiping his damp hair with a towel. He felt every bit of the practice in his bones—the sharp passes, the relentless running, the countless drills. But it wasn’t just that. It was the weight of the new meds, the way they left him drained after the adrenaline of training wore off.

Jimin sighed softly, rubbing at his neck, when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, Jimin.”

He looked up to see Jin leaning against the locker beside him, smiling warmly. “We’re heading to that new sushi place near campus. You wanna come?”

Hoseok, sitting a few lockers away, grinned and gave a thumbs-up. “It’s all-you-can-eat. You have to come. I’m planning to bankrupt them tonight.”

Jimin chuckled, the offer tempting for a moment. The idea of sitting with the team, laughing, eating until they were all stuffed—it sounded nice. Too nice. He glanced around the room, catching Jungkook’s eyes for a split second. The scowl Jungkook shot Jin’s way was sharp enough to cut. His jaw tightened, clearly annoyed at the invitation, though he said nothing. The glare alone spoke volumes. Jimin’s smile faltered just a little. He shook his head gently, offering an apologetic grin. “Ah sorry guys, I can’t. I already made plans with my friend tonight.”

Jin’s face softened with understanding. “No worries. Next time, then?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, “next time for sure.”

Hoseok gave him a playful pout before slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You’re missing out, but okay. We’ll eat your share for you.”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Appreciate that.”

He watched them leave, their laughter fading into the hallway, and sighed. The truth was, there were no plans with Taehyung, Jimin’s body just wasn’t up for socializing tonight. He needed rest. Every muscle in his body felt like lead, his chest tight, and his head slightly fuzzy. Even standing up felt like too much effort right now. As he leaned back against the locker, trying to find a moment of stillness, a familiar voice made him look up.

“Hey.”

Coach Kang stood near the doorway, arms crossed, his usual stern expression softening just a little.

“How you holding up kid? Sorry for pairing you with Jungkook today,” Coach said quietly, running a hand through his graying hair. “I know he’s... not exactly the easiest.”

Jimin smiled faintly, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

Coach raised a brow. “You shouldn’t have to. I can switch—”

“I’ve got it,” Jimin interrupted gently, meeting Coach’s eyes with quiet determination. “Really. I’ve got it.”

Coach studied him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Alright. But if it gets to be too much—”

“I’ll let you know,” Jimin finished for him, though they both knew he wouldn’t.

Coach let out a quiet sigh but didn’t push further. “Rest up. You did well today.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

As the door swung shut behind him, Jimin let out a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the cool metal of the locker.

The new sushi place near campus was buzzing with students, the low hum of conversation blending with the clatter of chopsticks and plates. Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi had managed to grab a booth near the back, the table already piled high with platters of sashimi, maki rolls, and tempura.

“This,” Jin declared dramatically, picking up a salmon nigiri, “is my happy place .”

“You said that about the burger place last week,” Hoseok pointed out, stuffing a spicy tuna roll into his mouth.

“Food is my happy place,” Jin shot back with a grin.

Jungkook snorted, nudging Jin’s elbow. “If you eat all the salmon, hyung, I’m fighting you.”

Jin gasped, clutching his plate protectively. “Don’t threaten me over raw fish, Jeon Jungkook.”

“ Hyung , you took eight pieces!” Jungkook accused, reaching across the table.

“Survival of the fittest,” Jin replied smugly, popping another piece into his mouth.

“Unbelievable.”

Yoongi, who had just arrived and slid into the booth, raised a brow as he watched the scene unfold. “Am I interrupting something, or should I give you two a moment to sort out your sushi custody battle ?”

Jungkook shot him a look but said nothing as he reached for his own plate of assorted rolls.

They fell into easy conversation, laughing and teasing as they demolished plate after plate of sushi. It wasn’t until Hoseok, with his usual mischievous grin, leaned back and said, “So hyung... you missed Jungkook’s little incident at practice today.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “ Incident ?”

Jungkook groaned, already regretting coming here. “ Hyung, can we not?”

“Oh no we're definitely doing this, so let me set the scene,” Hoseok grinned, ignoring Jungkook’s warning glare. “New guy—Jimin—first real practice with the team. Coach pairs him up with Jungkook, and guess what our dear Jungkookie does?”

Yoongi chuckled under his breath. “Let me guess—tried to murder him with the ball?”

“ Exactly ,” Jin confirmed, pointing his chopsticks at him.

“I didn’t try to murder him,” Jungkook muttered, shoving a piece of sushi into his mouth.

“Please,” Hoseok snorted. “You shot the ball straight into his chest, and he nearly died.”

Jungkook groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought we were here to eat, not analyze my practice habits.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Jin grinned. “We’re definitely analyzing your practice habits.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“We wanna know what made you do it,” Hoseok said, leaning forward like they were interrogating him.

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly. “I was just testing his limits.”

“Bullshit,” Hoseok laughed. “You were annoyed he could keep up with you. Admit it.”

Jungkook scowled, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him.

“Ahh, you totally underestimated him,” Jin chimed in, grinning. “Didn’t expect the new guy to give you a run for your money, huh?”

Jungkook sighed dramatically, grabbing another piece of sushi to avoid answering.

“Ease up, man,” Jin said after a beat, poking at Jungkook’s arm with his chopsticks. “You’re gonna make him think you’re a fucking psycho.”

Jungkook finally let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but you know it’s harder to make friends when you’re shooting footballs at their chest, right?” Hoseok teased.

Jungkook, without missing a beat, replied, “I don’t need more friends. I’ve got you guys.”

There was a beat of silence before Jin dramatically clutched his chest. “ Oh my God , was that Jungkook actually being sentimental?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

Hoseok snickered. “Careful, you’re gonna ruin your image.”

Yoongi chuckled softly, finally reaching for his own sushi. “Nah, he’s safe. No one’s buying that he’s secretly a softie.”

Jungkook groaned, flipping them off, but even he couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp barely lit the room when Jimin stirred, groggy and disoriented. He blinked up at the ceiling, struggling to place where he was for a moment until a familiar voice broke through the haze.

“Jimin-ah, wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

Jimin blinked again, turning his head toward the door where Taehyung leaned, arms crossed, watching him with a fond but amused expression.

“...What time is it?” Jimin asked, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Taehyung smirked. “About nine.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, only to feel a wave of dizziness hit him like a freight train. He let out a soft groan, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Nine? Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“I did ,” Taehyung deadpanned, stepping further into the room. “Multiple times. You were out cold.”

Jimin sighed, flopping back onto the mattress with a soft thud. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, realizing just how heavy his body felt. His limbs were like lead, and there was a persistent tightness in his chest that made breathing feel like more work than it should be.

God, he thought, this is worse than usual.

He wasn’t sure if it was the intense practice, the lingering ache from Jungkook’s “oops it slipped” shot, or the new round of meds messing with his system, but right now, even sitting up felt like a monumental task.

“Stay there,” Taehyung said firmly before Jimin could even think about getting up.

Jimin opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung was already gone. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness.

A minute later, Taehyung reappeared, carefully balancing a tray with a bowl of steaming soup, rice, and a small dish of kimchi.

“Really?” Jimin mumbled, watching as Taehyung placed the tray on the nightstand and slid it over his lap. “Tae— I can go to the table, you know. I’m not—”

“ Shut up ,” Taehyung interrupted with a teasing grin. “Eat.”

Jimin pouted. “I don’t need—”

“I said shut up ,” Taehyung repeated, sitting down at the edge of the bed and crossing his legs. “Eat before the soup gets cold.”

Jimin huffed softly but picked up his spoon, taking a careful sip of the warm broth. The familiar taste immediately comforted him, soothing the tightness in his chest. Taehyung watched him for a moment before leaning in slightly. “You pushed yourself too hard today, didn’t you?”

Jimin scoffed around a mouthful of rice. “More like I was pushed too hard.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed. “I thought you talked to Coach about… you know.”

“I did,” Jimin sighed, taking another bite. “Coach isn’t the problem.”

Taehyung frowned deeper, clearly confused. “Then who—?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin muttered through a mouthful of rice.

Taehyung blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Well what did he do now?”

“Kicked the ball straight into my chest,” Jimin said casually, like he wasn’t describing the exact moment his soul nearly left his body. “Really fucking hard too!”

Taehyung froze, then blinked once. Twice.

“...He’s a fucking psychopath ,” Taehyung deadpanned.

Jimin burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food.

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insisted, scowling. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Relax,” Jimin chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “It's not that serious, honestly. He’s just… I don't know, testing me or something.”

“ Testing you ?” Taehyung repeated, incredulous. “Testing your ability to survive blunt force trauma?”

Jimin snorted. “Something like that.”

Taehyung shook his head, leaning back on his palms. “I swear, you need to tell that guy to back the fuck off before I have to do it for you.”

Jimin raised a brow, amused. “ You ? Tae, you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I would for you,” Taehyung shot back with a grin, poking Jimin’s knee with his toe.

Jimin laughed softly, the warmth from the food and Taehyung’s presence settling into his chest, easing the tension from the day. He finished the last of his soup, letting out a long yawn as he leaned back against his pillows.

“Thanks for dinner,” he mumbled sleepily.

Taehyung stood, taking the tray from his lap and setting it aside. “Seriously, tell Jungkook to back off, or I’m coming for him.”

Jimin chuckled, already half-asleep. “Yeah, yeah. Good night, Tae.”

“Night, Jiminie,” Taehyung whispered, flicking off the light as he left the room, leaving Jimin to drift off into much-needed rest.