heartstrings

by moonboymin

Summary:

jimin allows himself this self-indulgence. the worst, most lovesick parts of himself, that feel exhausted, feel worn and harrowed with carrying it all the time— he indulges them, feeds them.

slides his hand into jungkook’s hair and brushes a thumb across his forehead, stares.

it’s ugly, what he feels. ugly, ugly.

the greed.

of wanting more, of calling their friendship not enough. of pushing them to more. of asking, first, because he couldn’t bear it— taking more and more from jungkook.

and still, still. not enough.

(or; jungkook is in jimin's heart. jimin is not in jungkook's. now what?)

Notes:

hi,, this ended up sadder than expected? um. hope you enjoy <3

also dont worry the ending is very happy i could never keep them sad it just took them a while to get there ok

also if this fic had a song: yoko ono by mob rich

“one more.”

 

jimin eyes him. jungkook slumped against the wall, eyes narrowed against the ceiling lights, chest heaving. 

 

he’s in that stupid thin button-down, the one made of fabric so flimsy that when jimin grabs his wrist it feels like it’s not there at all. drenched in sweat, sticking to him everywhere. 

 

jimin drags his eyes down the line of his waist, his hips. it’s hard not to look. 

 

jungkook glances at him, waves a weak hand toward the speakers shoved in the corner. jimin scoffs.

 

“really?”

 

they’ve stayed late again. jungkook caught his eye during practice, hips rolling, jaw clenched, and said nothing. so they’d stayed late. 

 

some of it is because jimin wants to be better— he’d fucked up that one move during practice so many times he thinks it’s burned into his brain now— but some of it isn’t about dance at all. 

 

the heat, the buzz between them, that builds and builds until it becomes something physical. 

 

when dance isn’t enough, when jimin can move his body and dance his fucking heart out but he still burns for it, still catches jungkook’s eye and then they move together— the both of them desperate, aching for it, aching to cool down. 

 

jimin doesn’t think about it. 

 

“really,” jungkook huffs, standing with a wince. “and then we can go home.”

 

that’s an absolute lie. they’re not going home at all, after one more.  

 

but jimin humors him, walks towards the speakers and leans against the wall, starts the music again. watches jungkook shuffle to the middle of the room, eye himself in the mirror, hands on his hips.

 

this way, at least, they’re the same. even if dance is an excuse, a way for them to explain it away— blowing off steam, or something like that— they take it dead serious. 

 

“c’mon,” jungkook waves him over, and jimin would roll his eyes at jungkook telling him what to do, but they’re not really here to practice so he makes his way over, finds his place next to him. 

 

jimin sighs, catches jungkook’s eye in the mirror. 

 

nothing there at all. there’s nothing there, jungkook stays completely unreadable. but then he dances and jimin reads it all. 

 

jungkook has always been so obvious— jimin knew they were going to do this before either of them ever said or did anything, he’d catch jungkook looking, catch him staring— but when he dances he’s so stupidly obvious it’s almost funny. 

 

jimin sees it, in the way he moves. the want, the heat. 

 

the sweat beading down his neck, the snap of his hips, the spread of his legs. how he throws his head back, how his hands linger— over his thigh, his waist, his chest. 

 

jimin watches the heat in little glances, because he’s pretty sure he’s doing the exact same thing and if they look at each other now they’re not going to finish the choreography. 

 

“watch it,” jungkook pants, nodding at him, doesn’t miss a beat. 

 

“i know,” jimin says, but pays closer attention because even if he resents it a little, how jungkook notices the mistakes he makes and then reminds him of them— it helps. so he doesn’t fuck up the move, and then—

 

then the song is coming to an end. 

 

jimin looks up, eyes drifting to jungkook in the mirror, jungkook already looking back. doing nothing to hide the way he looks, eyes dragging low over jimin’s body, lingering when he rolls his hips forward. 

 

it doesn’t help, too, that hoseok decided on something a little more sensual, for this semester’s showcase. something more ‘adult,’ as he’d put it. something that would send all the girls screaming, or with nosebleeds, or whatever. 

 

either way, it’s had them staying late after practice more times than not. (jimin isn’t complaining.)

 

the song ends. 

 

jimin blinks, stands there with his feet planted to the floor and breathing hard, staring at himself in the mirror. jungkook next to him, a good five feet away because they’re still in formation, breathing hard too. 

 

jimin hears his breath catch, hears him swallow hard. 

 

the AC is running, working for its life right now, tick-ticking in the corner and it’s the only thing saving them, right now. pure silence would be deafening.

 

someone has to move first. someone has to move first, has to look, has to turn. 

 

usually it’s jungkook. usually it’s jungkook, grabbing for him, reaching, crashing them together. 

 

jimin is burning up, up, up. whatever it was about today’s practice— maybe it’s the mistakes he made, the frustration that boiled hot with every trip-up, but he’s burning today. 

 

jungkook is burning too. bad practices always mean good sex.

 

jimin moves first. turns, and looks. 

 

jungkook looking back at him through the mirror, gaze heavy, before he turns and looks too. jimin clenches his jaw. the silence between them, the knowledge of what’s about to happen. 

 

jungkook’s chest rising and falling, his shirt sticking to it, his hair in a mess and damp on his forehead. 

 

it looks like they’ve done it already. they’re both standing there with their cheeks flushed and sweaty, looking at each other like they’re food, like they’re meat. 

 

jungkook is panting, his mouth is parted, and jimin thinks it’s probably on purpose. how he hangs it open, how he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. 

 

that was jimin’s breaking point, at first— jungkook’s mouth, pretty and pink and wet. 

 

that first night late at the studios, when he’d snapped and just asked, can we, can we— and jungkook had gone along with so much furor jimin had wondered how long he’d been thinking of it.

 

jimin takes a short breath, and shifts his weight. 

 

“come here.”

 

his voice sounds rough even to him. it echoes off the walls. the AC hums in the background. 

 

his voice cracks at the edges, it’s scratchy with hours of dance and laughing and shouting, rough with the look in jungkook’s eyes when he takes steps forward, the flutter in his chest blatantly obvious in how he takes shallow breaths, how his eyes dart over jimin’s face. 

 

jungkook steps closer than friends, steps into jimin’s space until jimin swears he can feel the breaths jungkook takes over his skin. 

 

they’ve caught their breath a little bit, by now, but jungkook’s mouth is still hanging open. 

 

jimin has an idea. 

 

he reaches up, and watches the tremor run through jungkook— the anticipation. 

 

there’s always this moment, when nothing has happened yet, when they’re both tense and waiting and there’s the danger, of it. 

 

the danger, where they’re still friends, when they could still go home and say nothing about it. the danger of saying something. 

 

jimin rests his palm on jungkook’s shoulder, and cocks his head to the side. 

 

jungkook’s eyes darken. 

 

yeah, they’re not going home.

 

“kneel.”

 

jungkook’s breath catches, jimin hears it, and tightens his grip on jungkook’s shoulder. pushes down, just a little. 

 

jungkook kneels. sinks down, hands coming up to wrap around jimin’s thighs.

 

jimin raises an eyebrow. “eager?”

 

jungkook snorts. jimin bites back a laugh because they really shouldn’t be laughing, it’s too close to anything else and all there should be is heat , right now. there shouldn’t be anything else. 

 

(they’re still in danger.)

 

jimin swallows hard and starts working at his belt, slides it off and then hastily unzips his pants, fingers clumsy with exhaustion and lust and danger, they’re in danger, and jimin wants them out of it.

 

“here,” jungkook breathes, letting go of his thighs to pull at his pants, help them down. 

 

okay, good, this is desperate, this is jungkook’s hands shaking around his thighs, pulling at the hem of his boxers until his cock hangs between his legs, half hard and pink at the tip.

 

“wanna fuck your mouth,” jimin tells him, bluntly, because jungkook likes that— “‘s that okay?”

 

“yes,” jungkook murmurs, dipping his head to loll his tongue over the tip, run his tongue up the underside, play with jimin’s cock like that until he’s hard. 

 

jimin lets him, takes a sharp breath and fists a hand in his hair, hopes to god he’ll be able to keep himself standing once they start doing this properly. 

 

it feels very exposed, to stand in the middle of the practice room, air on all sides, the walls far away. just them, in the middle, alone.

 

jungkook looks up at him, lips pressed to the head of jimin’s cock, and jimin looks back. danger, danger, danger— jimin tugs at his hair, nods. jungkook looks away again, swallows him down properly and bobs his head. 

 

jimin sighs, eyes sliding closed. 

 

this is, honestly, his favorite— jungkook’s mouth warm and wet and tight around him, the hands gripping his thighs, the nails digging into skin— the choked sounds jungkook makes. 

 

“now,” jimin tells him, voice rougher, voice wrecked, “now, baby. don’t move.”

 

jungkook stops, pulls back a little until it’s just the tip resting on his tongue. lets it loll out, mouth parted wide, and looks up at him again. jimin groans— jungkook eyes hazy, spit slicking his lips, falling down his chin, lips swollen and pink. 

 

“wanna ruin you,” jimin tells him, squeezing a hand in his hair, and watches jungkook’s eyes flutter, “so pretty.”

 

he allows himself this much, because if he didn’t say the words—

 

“hyung,” jungkook says, mumbles it around his cock and his voice is rough too, scratchy and a little whiny at the end, “hyung, fuck me now—”

 

“yeah,” jimin breathes, and tugs jungkook’s head forward again, thrusts forward tentative. the slide of jungkook’s lips around his cock, the bump of the tip to the back of jungkook’s throat. 

 

jimin swallows hard, eyes sliding closed. he’s not going to last long. 

 

“can i— in your mouth?” he asks, strained, hips moving slow, measured. jungkook hums in assent, hands squeezing around his thighs. jimin mumbles an okay and then loses himself completely.

 

jungkook whimpers around his cock, whimpers when he thrusts deep and forgets to hold back, and jimin shoots him a glance, hazy, out of it, but jungkook just squeezes his thighs in a silent keep going and so jimin does. fucks his mouth fast, desperate— it’s so good, it’s what broke him in the first place— 

 

that first night, when they stayed late and jimin couldn’t stop staring at jungkook’s mouth, letting his thoughts run away from him. the both of them stumbling into a broom closet and jungkook dropping to his knees immediately, mouthing over his boxers, mumbling saw you looking, hyung, i know what you want.  

 

jimin honestly doesn’t know what it is, that gets him off— the feeling of jungkook’s tongue, mouth, throat sliding against him, the dirty of it, the saliva and precome slick and messy over all of it—

 

or if it’s the sounds jungkook makes, the choked whimpers, the gasping breaths— how he gags on jimin’s cock, nails digging hard into skin, how he looks up, still. how he always looks up, and waits. 

 

because when jimin decides to look, when his hips stutter with his orgasm, building in his gut— when he looks, and jungkook looks back, eyes completely hazy, blown wide and dark, lips stretched around his cock and taking it so well, taking it so pretty— jimin comes. 

 

“fuck,” jimin breathes. he twists his fingers in jungkook’s hair and waits for his head to stop spinning, for his legs to stop shaking. 

 

jungkook’s mouth still around him, the hums, the soft whines as he bobs his head, works jimin through it. 

 

“baby,” jimin murmurs, “jungkook-ah, i’m— let me—”

 

“hm?” jungkook hums pulling back, pulling off with a wet, slick sound, and jimin groans— “hyung, what?”

 

“lie down,” jimin mumbles, blinking hard. 

 

his vision is still blurry, his head is still hazy and he only thinks to pull up his pants when he realizes jungkook shoved his own down, at some point, that when he lies down obediently on the floor his cock is hard and aching, leaking precome over his shirt still soaked in sweat.

 

“love your cock,” jimin mumbles, distracted, shuffling up to straddle his thighs. 

 

he shoots jungkook a glance, because he loves this too, watching him get shy, watching his breath catch and his jaw clench, how he sort of— tries to hide, even though there’s nowhere to go. jimin smiles, hazy with it, there’s no danger, they’re fine— 

 

“love your pretty little cock, baby, want me to suck you off? or want my hands?”

 

“hands,” jungkook mumbles, cheeks flushed pink, eyes screwed shut, “just— already close, watching, just— don’t—”

 

“embarrassed?” jimin coos, wrapping a hand around him. 

 

jungkook isn’t big by any means, but jimin thinks that probably doesn’t matter, anyway. it makes it easier for them, if anything, because jimin has a very strong gag reflex and he hates taking it up the ass. so. it works out. 

 

“nothing to be embarrassed about, gguk-ah, it’s cute.”

 

“don’t call my dick cute,” jungkook grumbles. 

 

jimin chuckles, because he’s going to lose that attitude the second jimin starts moving, but he leans down and presses his lips to the dip of jungkook’s stomach, to his chest. he knows this works, too, when jungkook is sensitive. 

 

and, like clockwork— jungkook bucks up, back arching, chasing the lips when they pull away.

 

“hyung,” jungkook whines, “jimin, please—”

 

“sorry,” jimin hums, and starts moving. jerks him off in measured, quick movements, and watches him fall apart. 

 

he knows jungkook is shy, knows he’s embarrassed when he’s the one being taken care of— but he never hides his face. always takes it all like this, head knocked back against the hardwood floor, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. 

 

jimin thinks maybe it’s because jungkook knows he likes to watch, knows jimin likes to watch him fall apart. 

 

(the other reason jimin tries not to think about— jungkook feels safe.

 

he doesn’t think about it.)

 

“c’mon, baby,” jimin murmurs, leaning down again to drag his tongue in a circle around jungkook’s nipple, outlined through the thin fabric, “c’mon, know you’re close, come in my hand—”

 

“fuck,” jungkook gasps, hips bucking up, “don’t wanna— it’ll be messy, hyung—”

 

“oh,” jimin realizes, because yes it will. so he shuffles down, ignores jungkook’s whine of protest when the tongue around his nipple is gone, and instead dips down to take jungkook in his mouth. hums, at the reaction he gets— jungkook’s broken whimper, the hips fucking up desperately. 

 

jimin tugs at his legs, and jungkook fucks his mouth desperately, soft ah-ah and pants of pleasure, chasing his orgasm. 

 

jimin loves jungkook desperate, loves it so fucking much it’s sinful— he drinks it all in, how jungkook loses his shame completely and just chases his orgasm, doesn’t worry at all. just fucks his cock helplessly into jimin’s mouth, hips snapping up messy, snapping up uncoordinated and sloppy. 

 

“i— shit, ” jungkook gasps, eyes flying open as he goes still. 

 

jimin hums, swallows quick and then bobs his head again, milks him dry until he’s whining, complaining that it hurts, and jimin pulls off, trails messy kisses up his stomach. 

 

“did well,” jimin murmurs, pulling at jungkook’s boxers as he leaves kisses up his neck, listens to jungkook’s shaky pants. as he tries to ignore the hands clinging to the front of his shirt, tugging, needy. “did so well, baby. took my cock so well, came well for me. so pretty.”

 

“pretty?” jungkook asks, breathless. 

 

jimin stills. jungkook’s never asked that before. never pointed out the praises jimin murmurs to him. 

 

danger, danger, danger.  

 

he nods stiffly and pulls back to keep tugging jungkook’s jeans up, zip him up again. 

 

jungkook’s chest still heaving, his mouth still parted when jimin looks. he knows jungkook takes a while to come down from it, knows he likes jimin close as he does. 

 

he knows— knows too much, probably. knows jungkook likes to cuddle, after sex. knows he likes to hold and cling and whisper things that mean too much, after he comes. 

 

and jimin can’t have that. 

 

so he brings them to a middle ground— he lifts jungkook to his feet, wraps a steady arm around him, and walks him down to the parking lot.

 

lets jungkook hang off him, lets him press mindless kisses to his neck and mumble soft ‘m so tired, hyung ’s into his skin. lets jungkook yawn and sigh and press himself close, press himself into jimin’s side. 

 

lets them linger over the line they crossed, somewhere hazy, somewhere not quite anything. 

 

where jimin can still call him baby, and jungkook can still kiss his neck. 

 

“gonna be okay?” jimin asks quietly, watching jungkook climb into his car, yawning. he dips his head, eyes the way jungkook’s hands shake when he turns the keys in the ignition. “i can always call you an uber.”

 

“‘m fine,” jungkook assures him, shaking his head. he blinks hard, stares out the front windshield. 

 

jimin watches him. the night is, honestly, still young— the sun still peeking over the horizon, barely an inkling, dusk. they’re the only ones in the parking lot, just jungkook in his car and jimin’s own car parked a few spaces away. 

 

the arts building looms behind them, throws everything in shadow. jimin hopes jungkook forgets, somehow, hopes he doesn’t remember—

 

“hyung?”

 

jimin swallows hard. 

 

jungkook ducking his head out of the car, shaky hand bracing himself on the door. 

 

jimin leans down quick, because if they look at each other too long it means something, and kisses him. 

 

( “shit, ” jimin breathes, flopping onto his back. jungkook does the same, panting. “shit.”

 

“good shit?” jungkook asks, hand still clinging to the side of jimin's shirt, stretching the fabric. jimin nods, mind racing, mind hazy. they just did that. holy shit. 

 

“yeah, good shit,” jimin says, because he can’t exactly lie, can he. “let’s do that again sometime.”

 

when they walk down to the parking lot, when jungkook lingers close behind him and then follows him to his car too— jimin shoots him a worried look that sends jungkook ducking his head, ears pink and twisting his fingers in front of him.

 

jimin laughing, stepping closer. his heart races but that’s just him, doing the racing. this is sex and nothing more, and apparently jungkook gets shy after sex.

 

“what is it,” he asks, dipping his head to try and catch jungkook’s eye, hands squeezing his shoulders. “we said it was good, right? what’s wrong?”

 

“just,” jungkook winces. bites his lip, and swallows hard. “can i ask you something?”

 

jimin blinks. “sure,” he says, “ask me anything.”

 

jungkook sways forward, back again. brow furrowed and lips pouty in a way jimin knows well, in a way jimin finds absurdly cute but shoves away, for now. just looks at him and waits. 

 

“can you— can you kiss me?” jungkook asks, squeezing his eyes shut. like he’s bracing for impact. 

 

jimin stares, and goes still. “kiss you?”

 

jungkook nods, tight. jimin stares some more. 

 

they’ve never kissed— except once during truth or dare, but that was more laughter than kiss, more alcohol than kiss, and jimin doesn’t count it. especially because when he’d sat back with his heart racing and nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat, cheeks red— jungkook had looked perfectly fine. 

 

“kiss you,” jimin repeats.

 

“you don’t have to,” jungkook rushes out, “but it just— it doesn’t feel right to do this without that and i just— i feel really, um, i get kind of clingy after stuff like this and i just want— i feel sucky right now and i just want—”

 

“oh,” jimin realizes, and surges forward, cuts him off.

 

when he pulls back, jungkook’s eyes wide and pupils blown wide too, mouth still parted, jimin realizes— danger. 

 

danger, danger, danger.)

 

jungkook sinks into the kiss immediately, hands fisting in the front of jimin’s shirt, pulling him down. 

 

jimin allows himself this self-indulgence, lets the kiss linger, gives himself a moment— to try and memorize the feeling of jungkook’s lips to his, the feeling of jungkook’s soft breaths over his skin, this moment at dusk.

 

this kiss, the one they share, that jungkook always asks for— pulls at his heartstrings.

 

jungkook has long since settled himself there, reached into jimin’s chest and tangled his fingers in them, and now jimin is cursed with it. to feel the tug and ache of the strings in his chest, every time jungkook touches him.

 

“get some rest,” jimin murmurs, when he pulls back and pretends he’s checking the parking lot for people, because he can never look jungkook in the eye after that. 

 

when he does look, jungkook is sat in his car again, head knocked against the headrest to look right back at him, blinking hard. 

 

jimin loves him so much it hurts. 

 

“and make sure you eat something," he adds. "drink water, have something sweet, okay? and protein.”

 

“i know,” jungkook smiles, “you tell me this every time.”

 

“you forget every time,” jimin huffs. there’s a hair on jungkook’s forehead, pushed the wrong way, sticking up weird at the end from sweat and product. it’s been bothering him for a while, and he wants to reach out and fix it. 

 

“what,” jungkook asks, and he realizes he’d been staring. 

 

jimin shakes his head, silent, and grabs the garbage from jungkook’s door, the candy wrappers and receipts— pretends that was his plan all along, pretends he was just zoning out.

 

“text me when you’re home,” he says.

 

“i know,” jungkook smiles again, eyelashes fluttering, sleepy. “i know.”

 

“okay,” jimin sniffs, turning to look back at the building, at the sunset. 

 

something to do, something to do other than look at jungkook and give everything away. he still pulses with it. he’s cooled from the heat but he still pulses with it, the ache, the need to grab jungkook and keep him close too. heartstrings, pulling and pulling and pulling.

 

“okay,” jimin repeats, looking at him. 

 

jungkook still turned sideways in his seat, leaning his head on the headrest, looking up at him. jimin never knows what to do with it. 

 

“okay,” jungkook echoes. there’s something in his voice. something. “you eat too. rest too.”

 

“i know,” jimin says, blinking hard. “um. i’ll see you on thursday?”

 

“lunch with the team tomorrow,” jungkook reminds him in a sigh, and finally turns away. 

 

jimin swallows hard. right. he’d forgotten about that. 

 

they always put days in between these, when they do this and then don’t see each other for a while. to forget about it, maybe, to reset. so that when they meet again it isn’t so visceral, the reminder. 

 

“right,” jimin mumbles, stepping back. 

 

jungkook closes the car door with a thump, cuts him off, the hard line between them— he hasn’t said goodbye, is he going to leave without saying goodbye— and it hurts for a second before he rolls the window down and it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

 

“have a good night, hyung,” jungkook tells him, leaning out the window. 

 

this is jungkook, now, the one everyone knows. smiley, charming, a little shy. the bunny smile, the hair messy at the front, the shirt hanging too big off his shoulders. 

 

he’s so pretty, at dusk, draped in a faint orange and deep navy, grey sky and blue blue blue, smiling at jimin like he’s the world.

 

jimin takes a breath, and the words choke in his throat. 

 

jungkook waves and jimin waves back, and then he watches jungkook pull out of the parking lot, drive away.

 

“have a good night,” jimin murmurs, too late. “baby.”

“i think i could eat this pork bulgogi until i die.”

 

jimin snorts. “is it that good?”

 

they’re at lunch. it’s still visceral, when he sees jungkook and the first thing he thinks is how jungkook felt in his mouth, the desperate way he’d snapped his hips up. the both of them sweaty and desperate and on the floor. 

 

then hoseok had slapped his shoulder and torn him out of it.

 

so now they’re at lunch, all seven of them, tired from yesterday’s practice and shoveling copious amounts of meat and rice into their mouths.

 

jungkook is sitting across from him, bunched up between namjoon and seokjin, head ducked into his food. his heel is digging into jimin’s foot, and jimin is pretty sure that isn’t like, a signal or anything, he just doesn’t realize that’s a foot and not the table. 

 

“it really is,” jungkook groans, cheeks full, “it’s so fucking good. do you want some?”

 

“i’ll try some,” jimin chuckles, reaching across to steal a bite. 

 

jungkook keeps looking at him, eyes darting over his face, lingering on his mouth, his neck. he’s being horribly obvious but then again he’s always been like that so nobody says anything. 

 

“take more,” jungkook mumbles, shoving the plate at him. “i can almost guarantee you didn’t eat enough yesterday.”

 

yesterday. jimin doesn’t deign that with a response, because if he did then they’d be talking about yesterday and he’d rather not go there, right now. 

 

so he just lets jungkook pile more bulgogi on his plate, shoots him a glance that means nothing and everything at the same time, and jungkook’s heel digs into his foot under the table. 

 

“you guys stayed late, right,” taehyung asks, nudging his elbow. 

 

his words are muffled around food but it’s still clear what he’s asking, jimin can’t pretend he didn’t hear and then change the subject. 

 

“mm,” he hums, and shovels the pork bulgogi into his mouth, so that when taehyung asks about it jungkook will have to answer.

 

“you both work too hard,” taehyung huffs. “how late did you leave, jimin-ah? we have practice tomorrow again, you don’t have to stay late all the time. you too, jungkookie.”

 

jimin shrugs, hums something vague that’s mostly a non-answer, points to his mouth still full of meat and rice. taehyung rolls his eyes.

 

“how late did you guys stay,” taehyung directs at jungkook, now, whose ears are a faint pink. 

 

jimin wonders if he’s the only one that notices it, when jungkook gets flustered but hides it. maybe it’s just because it’s their secret, but he notices. 

 

“not that late,” jungkook tells him, and ducks his head because he seems to be strategizing the same way, shoveling food into his mouth to avoid really saying anything. “‘t w’s fine, hyung.”

 

“was it?” taehyung squints. “i can see the bags under your eyes, babe, don’t lie to me.”

 

jimin tries his best not to bristle at babe, because taehyung calls everyone that and jungkook isn’t his, not by any means. jungkook’s eyes dart to him, barely a flicker, before he looks at taehyung again.

 

“i dunno,” jungkook says, “like, seven?”

 

“sunset,” jimin offers, and then ducks his head down again. 

 

he has no idea what it was about that, but jungkook is looking at him now and jimin doesn’t have to look up to know that. feels the weight of his gaze. the heel digging into his foot.

 

“practice ends at five thirty, guys,” taehyung sighs. “what the hell were you doing for an hour and a half? jungkookie, you were perfectly fine during practice yesterday.”

 

jimin blinks hard. he’s not even hungry anymore, but a mouth full of food means the burden falls on jungkook, to answer. they danced for an hour, and then spent the last half hour doing anything but dancing.

 

“wanted to get it perfect,” jungkook mumbles. his heel digs into jimin’s foot. “it‘s not anything, hyung, i do it all the time. jimin too.”

 

it‘s not anything.  

 

heartstrings, jungkook’s hand tangled in them, twisting.

 

“ow,” jimin complains, wiggling his foot under jungkook’s. 

 

jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he shuffles back, dips down to look under the table. straightens, cheeks burning.

 

“sorry, sorry, i thought that was the table—”

 

jimin wants to be smiling, right now. wants to tell him smoothly it’s fine, gguk, because for some reason jungkook is over-apologizing and he’s flustered, but jimin doesn’t have it in him. so he just shakes his head, and tucks his feet under his chair. 

 

the rest of lunch passes uneventful, mostly. passes like normal. 

 

jimin keeps to himself, pretends he’s hungrier than he is and keeps picking at his rice so he doesn’t have to talk, so he can pretend he’s occupied, so taehyung doesn’t shoot him a curious look— one that means, something is wrong.  

 

thread > gguk

gguk 1:02 pm

> are you okay?

 

jimin blinks at the message for a long time. jungkook is always— a little over-concerned, maybe, making leaps where there aren’t any to make, but the problem is he’s usually right. 

 

but jimin stares at it, because surely jungkook knows? he must know. he’s not an idiot. 

 

jimin has no idea what to say.

 

jm

> yeah

 

jungkook catches his eye over the table. jimin’s phone feels slippery in his hands, sweaty. he swallows hard.

 

there are two rules.

 

two rules, that they follow. unspoken, but very strict.

 

1. only after dance practice.

 

2. never all the way. 

 

the first gives them an excuse— it’s the sweat, the exhaustion, the haze of it all. something to blame it on. we were alone, it was late. an excuse.

 

the second one gives them an out— jimin thinks if they did that, if he fucked jungkook properly, if he held him that way and felt him that way, they’d never recover. 

 

he’d never be able to let it go, he’d be choked with it. to know that, and to still be friends. 

 

jimin isn’t sure he could ever have jungkook that way, and not say everything he’s kept close for the past two years.

 

so they stick to handjobs, blowjobs, messy hookups in the practice room, in broom closets. jimin’s fucked jungkook with his fingers, once, when jungkook whined so much about feeling empty that he just gave in. and knew even more, then, why that second rule was there. 

 

gguk

> are you sure?

 

jimin wants to punch him in the face. 

 

jm

> i’m sure.

 

he hears jungkook take a slow breath, set the phone down on the table. 

 

jimin stares hard at his food. he’s not hungry but he reaches for his chopsticks anyway, because it’s something to do. 

 

he’s hyper-aware of it— how jungkook shifts in his seat, how he sighs. jimin catches sight of his feet under the table, ankles crossed, toes wiggling. the platforms. 

 

the platforms.

 

( “kiss?” jungkook giggles, and stands on his tiptoes. 

 

jimin laughs, cheeks red, because this is dangerous. they’re still in limbo but it’s dangerous anyway. when jungkook gets playful, when he gets heady with it. when he teases jimin like this, when he kisses him like they belong to each other.

 

“fuck you,” jimin grins, grabbing for his arm, “come down here instead, asshole.”

 

“allllll the way down there?” 

 

jungkook flashes him a smile, and makes a point of ducking down, dipping his head. jimin rolls his eyes. 

 

“you’re not even that much taller than me,” he huffs, and drops a kiss to his lips, eyes fluttering closed— it’s short, it’s short but his heart skips a beat anyway, stumbles in his chest— “it’s those stupid boots.”

 

“hyung,” jungkook gapes, offended, desperately biting back a smile. “they’re lovely.”

 

jimin snorts, shoves at him. 

 

he walks jungkook to his car again, tells him to eat and drink something, and jungkook says— “i know.”

 

“just making sure,” jimin hums, eyes drifting over jungkook’s shirt, untucked, the sweat damp on his chest, the stains he’ll have to get out when he gets home. what the hell are they doing, exactly. “get some rest.”

 

“i will,” jungkook smiles, and then surges forward, grabs his shirt, and kisses him again. 

 

jimin freezes, like a dumbass, at the lips on his, the smile against him, jungkook’s soft giggle in his mouth. and then jungkook pulls back, waves, and closes the door. 

 

pulls out of the parking lot, and leaves jimin standing there with his cheeks burning and his heart stumbling over and over in his chest.)

 

jimin sucks in a sharp breath. 

 

he keeps to himself, and does his very best not to look at jungkook. he’s gotten so used to their game, the cheeky one they play where jungkook stares and jimin lets him, until he decides to catch him in the act and shoot him a smile, an eyebrow raise, a wink. 

 

their secret extends further than the practice room, jimin thinks. it’s a problem. 

 

jimin doesn’t catch jungkook in the act, during lunch, even though he knows he’s being watched. just eats the pork bulgogi jungkook gave him and listens to taehyung rant about his arts TA, laughs along when it’s appropriate.

 

he’s only made it this far because he doesn’t think about it. 

 

he’s not about to start now.

“one more.”

 

“i’ll kill you,” jimin grumbles, but takes the glass when it’s handed to him.

 

hoseok has somehow managed to drag them all out to a club again, jimin honestly doesn’t know how he does it— someone always has work to do, but hoseok just blows through all of it, charms them all into an outing like this.

 

like this— with the heavy, heavy thump of kick and bass rumbling through him, alcohol buzzing warm in his hands, his feet, his mouth. 

 

all of them piled onto three barstools instead of the seven they should be, taehyung’s knees knocking into his and hoseok’s arm around his shoulders.

 

“you’re always more fun when you’re drunk,” hoseok smiles, tipping the glass up as he drinks until some of it spills down his chin. jimin coughs, smacks hoseok’s hand weakly when he sets the glass down with a thunk.

 

“fuck off,” he insists, blinking the tears from his eyes, wow that burned, “when are we dancing, anyway, isn’t that what we’re here for—”

 

jungkook has been eyeing him since they got here, and jimin wants to forget what he looks like. what he feels like. what he sounds like.

 

wants to take someone home, maybe, get someone else whimpering beneath him so he can forget about jungkook completely, can get drunk and hazy and lose himself to it— he’s so good at not thinking, and getting drunk walks that line.

 

he thinks of nothing at all, when he’s drunk— until jungkook looks at him and he thinks too much. 

 

it’s danger. 

 

everything about jungkook sings danger, tonight.

 

“soon,” hoseok soothes, patting his bicep, squeezing. “god, you’ve been working out. don’t turn into jungkookie—”

 

“shut up,” jimin chuckles, strained, because he’s trying not to think of jungkook, or his stupid red silk shirt, or his stupid lip gloss or hair pushed back from his forehead, or those jeans that hug his thighs so sinfully jimin has to think of like, puppies and dead people. 

 

“ah, there he is— seokjinnie! c’mere, wait—”

 

jimin turns, cranes his neck to catch seokjin coming toward them, waving with a big smile. 

 

jimin has thought about telling him so many times— seokjin was his first kiss, his first real one with a boy, and he’d been so gentle about it. talked with him until late, handled jimin’s crush like it was his own, and jimin had come out of it confident, very gay, and deeply thankful to his friend.

 

but he worries seokjin will be too smart about it, will tell him they should talk about it, tell him they should stop. 

 

jimin doesn’t want to talk, and he doesn’t want to stop.

 

so he keeps it to himself. their secret.

 

“hey.” 

 

jungkook somehow manages to shove himself in the very little space between him and taehyung, arm wrapping solid around his waist. he smells so good, chest pressed strong to jimin’s shoulder, and he suddenly wishes he still had that drink. 

 

“it’s loud in here.”

 

jungkook smells like sweat and something sweet— he likes to wear perfume sometimes, and jimin honestly wishes he didn’t, because it would make his life so much easier. 

 

but as it stands, jungkook presses himself into his side and then jimin’s head is filled with sweet, sweet perfume. 

 

“is it?” jimin snorts. 

 

he can’t tell if jungkook is here to start something— he’s not supposed to, they’re not at practice, they’re barely drunk enough to call it anything— but he thinks maybe jungkook is just clingy, tonight. 

 

he gets like that when he’s tired, sometimes— wants to be close, wants to have jimin close. 

 

“yeah,” jungkook chuckles. 

 

jimin catches hoseok shooting them a look, something borderline evaluative, detective-like. yeah, they’re bad at hiding it, jungkook’s palm resting warm over his hip, but then again they were sort of always like this. 

 

“wanna dance?”

 

jimin nods to the empty glass. “take a shot with me and then we’ll go.”

 

if things do devolve, if they dance and make excuses, he’d rather be drunk instead of just tipsy, would rather pretend he doesn’t remember. 

 

jungkook nods, shifting forward to grab the bartender’s attention, and ends up nearly pulling jimin from his perch on the barstool. jungkook laughing in his ear, hand resting over his stomach to keep him up, set him upright again. jimin tries his best not to blush, because then hoseok will definitely know something is up.

 

they knock back a shot together, jungkook coughing before he curls fingers into his shirt, tugs. nods to the dance floor. he’s so pretty. his shirt hangs like water off his shoulders, and he put on makeup tonight. eyeliner, eyeshadow. it looks good.

 

“what’s with you tonight,” jimin asks, following after him, jungkook’s hand still tugging at the front of his shirt, like they’re not barely a foot from each other.

 

jungkook shrugs. “long day,” he says, simple, and then turns once they’ve slotted themselves between the rest of the pulsing crowd, “want you next to me.”

 

want you next to me.

 

jungkook’s hands reach inside him, grab for those heartstrings and pull pull pull. 

 

jimin thinks of nothing at all.

 

just lets jungkook hold him close, wrap hands around his waist and then they move together, move easy. 

 

jimin has always been good at this, at letting himself go, letting his body take over when his mind checks out. jungkook has gotten damn good at it too, since he joined the team freshman year— jimin sometimes wonders which one of them works hardest, between them. 

 

when jimin moves it’s something more measured, more years of dance built in his legs, his arms, his core— but jungkook just moves free, moves the way he wants to, and jimin likes it so, so much.

 

the easy way jungkook doesn’t give a fuck, moves like the thoughts barely pass through him before he just— does it.

 

jimin isn’t like that, he’s never been like that, but somehow they fit together this way.

 

jungkook dancing free, easy, moving thoughtless and close to him— and jimin’s practiced movements, things that don’t feel like thinking but that he knows he’s done before. 

 

“hey,” hoseok breathes right in his ear, and jimin startles. “room for one more?”

 

jimin nods, blinking hard. he didn’t realize how close he and jungkook were, legs brushing and his nose bumping into jungkook’s collarbone, the hands tangled everywhere— he thinks he’s probably grabbing jungkook’s ass but it’s hard to tell, not with his head a little dizzy and everything moving.

 

he shifts, makes room. jungkook keeps him close, sticks to his side, but hoseok is fun to dance with too— and soon they’re laughing, freestyling mindlessly, hoseok leading and the both of them following in tandem— 

 

“i couldn’t pull off a b-boy move without breaking something, right,” hoseok laughs, light on his feet, and jimin snorts, shakes his head. 

 

“we’d spend the rest of the night in the ER,” jimin tells him, shouts it over the music. 

 

hoseok throws his head back and laughs. 

 

“my favorite dancers!” shouts taehyung, waving big at them, shouldering his way through the crowd, “hi! hi, how are we tonight? ‘seok, dance with me, c’mon—”

 

hoseok shoots them an apologetic look, a smile, and then lets taehyung whisk him away through the crowd. jimin eyes their linked hands, easy, thoughtless, and wonders if he should be shooting detective-looks to hoseok, too. 

 

“here,” jungkook mumbles, tugging at his waist, “like before, here—”

 

“yeah,” jimin blinks, lets jungkook pull him close again. 

 

it feels a lot like they’re in that weird limbo, where jimin lets them linger over the line, lets it extend a little longer— where jimin can call him baby and jungkook can kiss his neck. 

 

but they haven’t done anything. they’re friends right now. they’re just dancing.

 

the problem is— there’s no just, about this dancing. 

 

jungkook’s breath over his neck, jungkook’s hands gripping tight at his hips. moving together, moving easy, but moving close.  

 

jimin knows jungkook’s body, knows where they fit together, knows exactly where to touch and how. knows how his palms fit around jungkook’s waist, how his knee fits between jungkook’s legs. how they roll their bodies together, in time, how jungkook’s fingers feel fisted in his shirt.

 

they’ve always done this with the sweat of dance practice, with the ache and exhaustion behind it, the desperation. 

 

never like this, drunk and the whole night ahead of them, jungkook holding him like that because—

 

“long day?” jimin asks, quiet and in his ear. 

 

jungkook nods, mute. jimin wordlessly hooks arms over his neck, pulls him down until his nose is pressed to jimin’s neck, mouth parted against his skin. he hopes he didn’t just give jungkook the wrong idea— and it seems he didn’t, because jungkook just relaxes into the touch. 

 

“can i come over, later,” jungkook asks, “can i go home with you? we can watch something—”

 

“sure,” jimin says, hand sliding into his hair, damp with sweat and getting a little too long. “sure. tell me about it then?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook sighs, leaning into him. 

 

their bodies close, bodies close without heat. without that push forward, that buzz— the exhaustion of dance practice, the hum of the AC, the heavy stares. they’re not close like this, not without something stronger pulling them together.

 

danger.

 

jimin thinks they aren’t doing anything, tonight, but that not doing anything might be worse. 

 

because now they’re over the line but they don’t have an excuse. they’re just over the line because they want to be. nothing else.

 

too little seems like worse, somehow. 

 

too little has their flimsy excuse even flimsier, has all the things they aren’t saying laid out in front of them— jimin feels too much, too much. 

 

jungkook wanting him like this just because he’s tired. because jimin makes him feel better. 

 

jimin swallows hard. he should talk to seokjin.

 

but for tonight— he can make mistakes. 

 

danger, danger, danger.

 

he curls his fingers in jungkook’s hair, dips his head a little to press a kiss to the heated skin, damp, tasting of lotion and whatever cologne jungkook is wearing. 

 

innocent, nothing more. 

 

jimin feels jungkook sink further against him, wrap arms around him completely and sway them together. 

 

the rest of the club pulses around them, moves frantic— and they probably look really stupid, borderline slow-dancing in the middle of the dance floor, but jungkook really does seem tired and jimin is just— 

 

danger, danger, danger.  

 

too little is worse. they need to do more.

 

he leaves another kiss, another. parts his mouth, tastes. 

 

he knows the way jungkook likes it, the hint of teeth, the drag of tongue. just dirty enough. he feels jungkook’s breath hitch, feels the puff of air against his neck, jungkook’s mouth parting further.

 

jimin wonders vaguely if any of their friends can see them, where they are. 

 

it’s still pretty innocent— just the two of them dancing close. maybe a little too close for friends but they’ve always blurred that line, haven’t they. nothing new.

 

and besides, jimin’s face is buried in jungkook’s neck, and he thinks unless someone was standing right there they’d have trouble figuring out what he’s doing. 

 

and what he’s doing— nipping at jungkook’s jugular, marking the skin just under his jaw. 

 

jungkook is so sensitive. jimin marvels at it. 

 

licks and nips at his skin, listens to the soft sounds jungkook makes— feels more than hears them, the short breaths puffed against his neck, things he knows must be whimpers. 

 

he aches to hear them, because jungkook sounds so pretty, but everything is too loud and so everything is touch. 

 

everything is physical. 

 

everything is sweat. they fall into a rhythm— bodies moving together, jungkook’s breaths shaky against jimin’s neck, jimin leaving steady marks to jungkook’s skin.

 

when he thinks jungkook is riled up, when the breaths against him get a little shakier, shallow—  jimin drags his teeth along jungkook’s neck, wraps his hands around jungkook’s waist and untucks his shirt. 

 

jungkook’s hands tighten around him, when suddenly it’s jimin’s palms against skin, pushing up, moving slow and steady, touching just to touch, because jungkook is sensitive, he’s so sensitive—

 

“hyung,” jungkook breathes, “what are you—”

 

“don’t want to?” jimin asks, and pulls back a little. jungkook surges forward immediately, grabs for him blindly, tugs at his hips until they’re flush. jimin’s breath catches. 

 

good, good. desperation. safer. safer than being close just to be close.

 

“i didn’t say that,” jungkook says, shaky, “just— we’re usually—”

 

“baby’s already riled up,” jimin murmurs, cutting him off, because if jungkook starts talking about what they usually do, then everything will go to shit very quickly. “let’s go out back, there’s an exit by the bar, shouldn’t be anyone—”

 

“here,” jungkook mumbles, nudging at his legs, “please, i’m so—”

 

“already?” jimin asks, smiling, “sensitive, i know, but we’re— gguk, we’re in public—”

 

“here,” jungkook tells him, reaching down to grab until jimin gets the message, slots his thigh between jungkook’s legs. 

 

jimin startles, at how fast jungkook ruts down, sinks against him and rolls his hips forward, hooks arms around his neck and just— breathes out a sigh of relief, presses his mouth to jimin’s shoulder and moves, moves—  

 

“fuck, yes—”

 

“gguk,” jimin murmurs, pulling his nose out of jungkook’s neck to glance around, take stock of the people around them. jungkook rutting against him, small and desperate, the whines in his ear— jimin winces, because jungkook has no shame but they’re still— “in public, gguk, c’mon, let’s go somewhere quieter—”

 

“don’t care,” jungkook gasps, teeth dragging against his ear, the choked whimper pressed right into his skin, “ fuck, just— i’ll be fast, just feels so good—”

 

“shit,” jimin mumbles, hands wrapping around his hips, guiding him down, because he loves jungkook like this, when he forgets shame, forgets embarrassment, and just takes takes takes what he wants. 

 

jimin pulls him close, tries to steady their movements so it looks less like jungkook is riding his thigh and maybe more like they’re just grinding on each other— but jungkook is close, his hips shoved down hard, hands trembling where they cling to jimin’s shirt— 

 

“c’mon, baby,” jimin murmurs, rocking his thigh up, “c’mon, do it fast. don’t want to get caught, right?”

 

“shit,” jungkook gasps, buries his whine into jimin’s neck and then jimin is holding him up, arms wrapped tight around him as he drags his hips in messy lines to jimin’s thigh, sinks down heavy, searches for more, “please, please, hyung, need— need more—”

 

“can’t do that,” jimin tells him immediately, because he really can’t, “you wanted this, baby, get yourself off, c’mon—”

 

“ please, ” jungkook whines, voice breaking, “please, please— i’m—”

 

jimin grabs him and pulls him into a kiss.

 

rough and bruising and mostly to shut him up. kisses him deep, sloppy, a little drunk, and keeps him there. grabs him and keeps him there, forceful, hand on the back of his neck. 

 

jungkook making soft sounds in his mouth, jimin swallowing them whole and kissing him open-mouthed and hot and sweaty like everything else. 

 

it’s mostly to shut him up, because as much as jimin loves to hear him beg they’re still in public— but it sends jungkook over the edge and then there are hands tearing at his shirt, jungkook’s hips stuttering against him as he goes still, whimper landing neat on jimin’s tongue as he comes. 

 

“good,” jimin purrs, slipping his tongue into jungkook’s mouth, tasting him for real, tasting the tequila and lime, jungkook kissing back sloppy, disoriented, humming content into it, “good, baby.”

 

jungkook shakes out another breath and then the hands fisted in his shirt come up to tremble around his neck, his jaw, now. jimin starts to pull away and jungkook grabs him down again, kisses him eager. 

 

jimin hums in surprise, at the urgency, the fervor— jungkook dragging his tongue against jimin’s, desperate, hungry. jimin doesn’t understand why, his head spins with it, jungkook already came— but he’s not complaining.

 

just jungkook tasting him again and again, sucking at his tongue, his lips, like he wants to fucking eat him, or something— it’s so horribly open, desperate, the sloppier kind of want that takes jungkook over when he’s already had an orgasm and now just wants— 

 

“feels good,” jungkook mumbles, pulling him close, “like kissing you, hyung—”

 

jimin shifts, pulls his thigh from between jungkook’s legs and pulls his hands from under jungkook’s shirt, smooths them up his sides and tugs him a little closer— 

 

“fuck,” jungkook mumbles, hands squeezing around jimin’s jaw. pulls away, breathing hard.

 

there’s a moment, when jimin would look away, when he’d pretend to be watching something on the other end of the parking lot because looking at jungkook would mean too much. 

 

but not now, because he’s drunk and forgets to— so he gets it right in the face. jungkook’s eyes wide and dark and his cheeks flushed. hair tousled, his mouth parted and pretty and slick with lip gloss and spit. 

 

he’s beautiful. 

 

the club lights flash him blue, purple, orange. 

 

jungkook tastes like peach. 

 

jimin didn’t realize it, got too caught up in the feeling, but jungkook’s lip gloss tastes like peach.

 

jungkook stares at him, open, distracted, eyes darting over his face before he looks down at himself, chest heaving. “um—”

 

“let’s find somewhere quieter, yeah,” jimin tells him quickly, heartstrings in his chest pulling and pulling, “wanna see the mess you made. ‘n you gotta take care of me too—”

 

“yeah,” jungkook breathes, pushing them forward. jimin grabs him and leads them through the crowd, pulls them off the dance floor. 

 

it takes jimin a second to realize it, hand squeezing jungkook’s so tight his knuckles go white, jungkook’s chest knocking into his shoulder— but they’ve never kissed like that before. 

 

always chaste, always a goodbye. something soft, something comforting. something that’s too much , but that jimin gives jungkook every time because he can never not give jungkook what he wants. 

 

but never this. the drunkenness. how it ran deep, the want. the way jungkook grabbed and held him in place, tasted and tasted like he was trying to fucking memorize it— jimin’s tongue, mouth, lips, teeth. the way he smelled, touched, tasted. 

 

like jimin was food and jungkook was starved.  

 

jimin is still spinning, still reeling. intense. intense, the way jungkook kisses— the way he holds, touches. everything about jungkook is a little intense, to jimin, but this, god. god . 

 

jimin takes a shaky breath.

 

his head spins, the floor is sticky where he steps, and jungkook’s hand clings to his own. 

 

the smell of sweat, sex, alcohol— a lot of cologne, but jungkook’s sweet perfume sticks to him, his clothes, his neck, everywhere. jungkook touched him everywhere and they must smell the same, now, jungkook’s nose buried in his neck. 

 

“hey, do you guys—” 

 

jimin’s head whips around, and it’s seokjin. 

 

he freezes. jungkook pulls his nose from jimin’s neck, disoriented. they’re fucked.

 

seokjin eyeing them up and down, because jungkook looks absolutely gone, still, eyes hazy and dark and staring right at jimin. their hands linked, jungkook standing too too close, marks purpling on his neck. 

 

jimin silently wills seokjin not to say anything.

 

catches his eye and tries to send him the we’ll talk about this later telepathically, because if they even go near the topic jimin thinks he’ll embarrass himself trying to change the subject.

 

“what,” jimin says.

 

seokjin snorts. “no, i just—”

 

jungkook has the wherewithal to step back, at least, but refuses to let go of his hand. 

 

jimin is balancing a lot of things, right now. jungkook’s thumb rubbing in circles over his knuckles, the perfume sending his head in circles— and seokjin’s piercing stare. 

 

“what,” jimin repeats.

 

seokjin definitely has questions for him, definitely, because his lips keep twitching up in a smile that is entirely too knowing, eyes darting quick between them. 

 

it’s horribly obvious, what they just did, jimin knows that much. but seokjin is kind, he lets it go for now, and points behind them.

 

“we’re gonna get food a few blocks down,” he tells them. “barbecue, probably. unless you guys are, um—?”

 

“no, it’s cool,” jimin cuts in immediately, because please do not finish that sentence, “yeah, um. are we just walking, are we—”

 

“yeah,” seokjin nods, and shoots him a look, eyebrows raised. jimin wrinkles his nose. “i think tae’s already by the entrance, i’m just going around grabbing everybody— you haven’t seen joon, have you?”

 

“don’t think so,” jimin says, knowing full well he hasn’t seen anybody besides hoseok and a glimpse of taehyung. it’s just been him and jungkook, pressed into each other. 

 

seokjin nods and disappears again, leaving jungkook to step close again, leaving jimin to clear his throat and roll his shoulders back, wince and lead them toward the entrance.

 

jimin has no idea what to do. they’re out in the open, in uncharted territory, exposed. every decision, now, is new new new— this isn’t safe, this is danger. on all sides. it’s always been the same— sweat, dance, sex. empty practice rooms, desperation. kiss, leave. 

 

not this, not this— where jungkook wants him close because it’s him, because it’s jimin. when they’re still over the line, when jungkook has come in his pants and jimin’s marks on his neck— but now they’re in front of friends, when it’s obvious, when— god.

 

it’s all new ground. 

 

jimin doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do and what he isn’t, what jungkook expects from him now. 

 

it’s dizzying. 

 

the knowledge that this is new but at the same time— it’s exactly what jimin wants.

 

now— now, when jungkook leaves an absent kiss to his neck, loops a finger through his belt buckle and hugs him close, hangs off him as they walk— when jimin murmurs you okay, baby? in his ear and they stay distinctly not friends—  

 

now what? 

 

in moments like these, when jungkook crawls right into his chest and settles there, twists those strings around himself and huddles in the chambers of jimin’s beating heart— something so beautiful in all the ugly, ugly sick greed, of jimin wanting and wanting and wanting until he spins out, screeches, crashes.  

 

he knew this wasn’t going to end well, but he feels it now. that pit in his gut, the knowing. 

 

this was never going to end well. he wants too much, he keeps getting more, more, more, and it will never be enough.

 

jungkook is in his heart. jimin is not in jungkook’s.

 

now what?

 

“hey,” taehyung smiles, when they step out of the club. 

 

the hard line, between the heat and haze and stuffiness of the bodies, the music, the alcohol— and outside, cool and clean and empty. 

 

jimin takes a deep breath, lets his eyes slide closed. 

 

jungkook’s body pressed to his, the lips smushed to his neck. jungkook isn’t drunk, he’s just tired, and jimin thinks if someone asked him to walk away he’d drag jimin along with him, without a second thought.

 

attached at the hip, literally, when he sits beside taehyung on the curb and jungkook sinks down with him, slings an arm over his shoulders and digs his chin into jimin’s shoulder. 

 

taehyung shoots them a curious look but says nothing more, just turns back to watch the sidewalk, the tufts of grass growing stubbornly out of the pavement.

 

“so we’re doing food?” jimin asks, blinking hard. 

 

“yeah,” taehyung hums. “not sure how it got organized, but i think most of us are tired of the club by now anyway.”

 

“what time is it,” jimin frowns, because he swears they just got here—

 

“like, a little past midnight?”

 

jimin stares at him, for a second. taehyung dipped in the yellow of the streetlights, watching him curiously, still, before he looks away. it felt like minutes, dancing with jungkook, but apparently they’ve been here for an hour and a half already.

 

“oh,” jimin hums, trying to play it off. 

 

taehyung sees right through him, because he always does, and chuckles.

 

“you two were in your own world for a while, there,” he says, fingers tapping at jimin’s knee. 

 

taehyung shoots him a smile, raises an eyebrow. a little cheeky, but mostly curious. jimin forces the blush down, and shakes his head. says nothing, because he doesn’t know what to say.

 

“jungkookie,” taehyung chuckles, dipping his head forward to try and get a peek of the boy nuzzled into jimin’s shoulder, hugging him tight. “you alright there? not gonna throw up?”

 

jimin realizes way too late that there are hickeys on jungkook’s neck he can’t explain, that when they go to eat and they’re all lit under bright lights instead of flashing club lights, everyone will know. 

 

jungkook is obvious and that means when his cheeks are red and his eyes are hazy and he looks at jimin, everyone will know. 

 

“he’s fine,” jimin cuts in, patting jungkook’s arm with a tight smile. “just tired, i think. and drunk.”

 

“ah,” taehyung hums, eyes lingering on jungkook before he looks at jimin again. jimin feels like he’s see-through, right now, like taehyung can somehow hear every thought in his brain and is just humoring him. “i see.”

 

“mm,” jimin hums, and pulls out his phone. nudges jungkook, pats his thigh where his phone is outlined.

 

thread > gguk

jm 12:09 am

> hey

 

jungkook groans, pulls his nose from jimin’s neck— but he seems to get it, at least, that they’re in a bit of a conundrum, because he knocks his cheek into jimin’s shoulder and pulls out his phone.

 

gguk

> yaeh

> wtf

> yeah

 

jm

> what do you need? if we go to eat and you still look like this they’re gonna know

 

gguk

> what i need?

 

jm

> want me to take you home? or we could always stop by a convenience store and get you some water, some food

> just, if you walk in looking like you just came and you’re staring at me im sure /somebody/ will make the connections

 

jungkook snorts softly from beside him, and jimin smiles. 

 

gguk

> yeah i guess so

> theres a 24 hour thingy on the way to the restaurant they’re talking about

> is it so bad if they know?

 

jimin blinks. he has no idea what to say to that. there are so, so many thoughts he has about that and none of them jungkook can know. so he pats jungkook’s knee and slips his phone back into his pocket.

 

“i’m gonna sober him up before we meet you guys,” jimin tells taehyung, leaning over. 

 

jungkook sighs, shuffles close again and jimin wonders if he would’ve startled, some other time, at the nose crushed into the crook of his neck. wonders when he got so used to it. 

 

“get him food and water, y’know.”

 

taehyung gives him that smile again. cryptic, knowing. “sure.”

 

jimin drags jungkook to his feet, takes him just down the street to the convenience store before the rest of their friends show up, before seokjin shows up and shoots them knowing looks. 

 

“you want banana milk, right,” jimin hums, pulling jungkook through the aisles. 

 

it’s cold in here, with the AC running at full blast, and jungkook huffs, wraps his arms around jimin’s middle and hugs him that way. jimin chuckles, ignores the tug of his heart and pats jungkook’s hands, linked over his stomach. 

 

“want food, too?”

 

“mm,” jungkook hums.

 

the drinks are starting to catch up to him, buzz of alcohol weighing him down, but the air is cool in here and everything is so bright. he blinks hard, keeps his hands over jungkook’s and leads them to the drink aisle. 

 

jungkook sways them, a little, as jimin searches for the banana milk. 

 

the store is empty, and jungkook is leaving soft kisses to his neck, swaying them in place. 

 

jimin doesn’t think of anything at all. 

 

“ah, there it is,” he sighs, when his eyes catch on the yellow bottles near the bottom. jungkook shuffles around, hugs him from the side instead as he ducks down, grabs him one. 

 

“hyung,” jungkook says, when jimin straightens again and eyes the label, because he knows jungkook likes a certain brand. 

 

jungkook’s voice in his ear, quiet, shy. hands curling into fists over jimin’s stomach. 

 

jimin turns and looks at him. they’re very, very close, but for once he doesn’t think about it. jungkook flushes pink, eyes widening, because clearly he wasn’t expecting jimin to look. jimin blinks at him, nods. go on.  

 

“um, you just—” jungkook swallows hard, and then gives in. ducks his head, nuzzles into jimin’s neck. jimin frowns, reaches up to soothe a hand down his back, dip down and press a kiss to the top of jungkook’s head. 

 

new, new. uncharted territory. it’s everything jimin wants— and it’s still not enough. it’s not real.

 

“you didn’t,” jungkook continues, voice muffled. “you didn’t um. i was the only one—”

 

oh, jimin realizes. jungkook hates it when he’s the only one that comes, always insists on taking care of jimin too.

 

“don’t worry about it,” jimin reassures, lowering his voice. “let’s just take care of you now, okay?”

 

silence, while jungkook thinks about it. his soft breaths over jimin’s skin, warm. 

 

“okay,” jungkook sighs. 

 

so jimin leads them around the store, slower than usual with jungkook attached to his back, shuffling after him. grabs him crackers, makeup wipes, concealer. when he pays, the cashier eyes them curiously but says nothing, because it’s past midnight and jimin is almost certain they’ve seen weirder stuff before.

 

“c’mon,” jimin murmurs, gently unlooping jungkook’s arms from his waist. “let’s do this outside so you can sit down.”

 

“you’re so nice,” jungkook mumbles, mouth pressed to jimin’s shoulder.

 

jimin wants to laugh because that’s probably what he’s supposed to do, but since he’s in love and he doesn’t want to be in love, he just sort of lets out a choked noise and ignores it. brings them outside, and sits with jungkook on the curb as he eats. 

 

jimin sighs, watches a car pass them by. the crinkle of plastic as jungkook unwraps the crackers, how his shoes crunch against the gravel as he extends his legs, waggles his feet. 

 

jimin feels like he’s bursting with it.

 

on this quiet night with the taste of peach on his lips. with perfume sticking to his clothes.

 

he glances over— jungkook’s skin painted sickly yellow in the streetlights, white from the convenience store window glowing behind them. the mascara and liner smudged ugly around his eyes. lips swollen, pouting. the marks on his neck, ugly too, purple and angry and blatant. 

 

he’s beautiful.

 

the strings of jimin’s heart tangle, tear. 

 

“here,” he murmurs, pulling out a makeup wipe. he reaches up, taps a fingertip to jungkook’s jaw until he turns to look, curious. 

 

the trust is so horrible.  

 

the way he looks and doesn’t expect anything, just turns and knows jimin will be kind. 

 

doesn’t ever think anything less of him, no matter how many times jimin shows him how ugly he can be. jimin knows he has it, knows jungkook trusts him like that, and it never gets any less horrible. 

 

jungkook is horrible, he’s so dangerous, and jimin loves him so much.

 

“you’re a mess,” jimin says softly. cups jungkook’s jaw and brushes a thumb gentle over his cheek until his eyes flutter closed. 

 

until jimin swears he gives it away like this— touching jungkook with the makeup wipe, careful not to press to hard. 

 

he swears jungkook must feel it. the thrum, the tug in his heart. how he holds, how he doesn’t hold too hard. 

 

it feels so, so obvious.

 

jimin takes a breath, eyes darting over jungkook’s nose pink from the wind, his lips still swollen. “you don’t usually wear makeup, either.”

 

“i like to look pretty,” jungkook pouts. 

 

jimin bites back a fond smile, continues wiping the eyeshadow from his skin. 

 

“i know,” he hums, leaning back. jungkook still looks wrecked, even with most of his makeup gone. “god, your lip gloss.”

 

jungkook’s eyes blink open, and he smiles a little. it’s smudged around his mouth, slick at the corners, messy. (he’s so beautiful. beautiful beautiful beautiful, jimin’s heart whispers, the word echoing in his skull. jungkook.)

 

jimin reaches up, cups his chin, and presses his thumb to jungkook’s bottom lip— full, swelled from the kiss (the kiss ), pink. sticky with lip gloss. 

 

jungkook’s breath catches. his eyes are still closed.

 

where are they, who are they, what are they. 

 

danger, danger, danger. 

 

jimin thinks he might be a daredevil.

 

he brings his thumb to his lips, tastes. peach. jungkook’s eyes fly open and he stares at him, blatant, mouth parted. jimin drags the pad of his thumb along his tongue, and then looks away.

 

“should i wipe it off,” jimin asks, grabbing for the makeup wipes again. 

 

his voice feels too empty, echoes off the street, the buildings. moments like these, like these. it’s what broke them in the first place, what pushed them too far, pushed them into too much.  

 

jungkook shifts, takes a short breath. 

 

jimin glances at him. “did you bring the lip gloss with you? you could always reapply.”

 

“yeah,” jungkook sighs, and his voice is rough around the edges. jimin didn’t notice that before, but he’s noticing it now. “but i’m eating.” another sigh. “god, how are these crackers so good.”

 

“it’s because you’re hungry. don’t fill up too much, we’re still going for barbecue after,” jimin tells him, poking his arm. shoots him a glance— jungkook staring distantly at the floor, chewing. clearly thinking of something else. “i’m pretty sure there’s gonna be pork bulgogi for you.”

 

“oh, fuck, ” jungkook groans, “pork bulgogi.”

 

jimin grins like an idiot, turns away and spends longer than he needs to fiddling with the makeup wipes. spends too long grabbing another and folding it into a square, setting it on his thigh for when jungkook is ready for him to wipe the lip gloss off— because jungkook is so endearing, he’s cute all the time, even like this, and if jimin turned and smiled he’d give it all away.

 

“this is—” jungkook’s legs shift, and when jimin looks at him he’s wrinkling his nose, “uncomfortable.”

 

“what is,” jimin asks, eyeing the crumbs on his fingers and wondering if he should go back inside, grab him napkins too. they can always just use the makeup wipes, he supposes. 

 

jungkook blinks, gestures vaguely to himself. “my pants.”

 

“your… pants?” jimin asks, bewildered. “i know they’re tight, but you’ve been wearing them the whole night—”

 

“no, like,” jungkook huffs, “ hyung. ”

 

jimin has no idea what hyung means, or why jungkook is blushing so hard, and then he realizes— “oh.”

 

“yeah, oh,” jungkook grumbles, “my boxers are like— ugh.”

 

jimin bites back a smile. it shouldn’t really please him this much, that there’s still evidence, that when they go eat jungkook will be sticky in his pants and they’ll be the only ones to know about it, but still. 

 

“shame,” jimin hums, “you’ll just have to clean it up when you’re home.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose further, and then sighs. 

 

“ew,” he concludes.

 

thread > hyungs + jk

joon 12:32 am

> @ jimin where are you two

> we’re ordering now

 

jm 12:35 am

> be there soon, sorry

> get gguk pork bulgogi

> im not that hungry i’ll just steal from you guys

 

joon

> got it 

 

“ew,” jimin agrees in a sigh, setting his phone down. “finish your drink and then we can go.”

 

“okay,” jungkook hums, dutifully picks up the banana milk again. jimin wordlessly hands him a makeup wipe, and starts to clean up. 

 

crumples up the packaging from the crackers and tosses it into a garbage can nearby, sits back down again and holds out a hand for the banana milk. jungkook gives it to him, cleans his hands with the makeup wipe and then hands that to him too.

 

“you always take care of me,” jungkook says, and jimin stills. jungkook has had a bad habit of questioning things, recently, asking pretty? and pointing out— “always me.”

 

“yeah,” jimin says, because it’s all he can say, and stands to toss the garbage in his hand. 

 

he wants to stay standing, wants to hold out a hand, bring jungkook to his feet. but jungkook has wrapped himself up in jimin’s heartstrings, tangled himself so desperately in them that he’ll never leave. 

 

jimin is heavy with it, with all the things he feels for jungkook, and so he’s pulled down again. sits, not of his own accord but jungkook’s silent ask, when he doesn’t stand too. 

 

“thank you,” jungkook murmurs. rests his head on jimin’s shoulder.

 

jimin doesn’t know how to say it.

 

doesn’t know what the words are, for what he feels. 

 

he’s not even sure i love you is right. just knows if they had to do this all over again, if they had to dance and break rules and touch each other and he had to hurt every single time they did— he would. 

 

“of course,” he whispers. of course. there is no other option. it’s just— jungkook, jungkook, jungkook. “of course.”

 

jimin’s phone goes off. he doesn’t move, at first, because jungkook is resting on his shoulder and the moment is nice, even if it’s terrifying. but eventually the buzz annoys him and he grabs it, picks up.

 

“yeah?”

 

“where are you,” taehyung laughs, loud and brash, the clatter of the restaurant around him, “making out somewhere? c’mon, we’re all here—”

 

it’s too much for where he is right now. the quiet of the street, jungkook against him. he blinks hard, shakes his head.

 

“we’ll be there soon, tae,” he says. “are there a lot of people? it’s like, 1am.”

 

“um, they— ‘seok, don’t you dare touch my rice— they’re open late,” taehyung tells him, “they’re really popular, so—”

 

“oh, okay,” jimin hums. 

 

he honestly doesn’t really feel like going there, now, knowing it’s loud and hungry and busy. jungkook shifts, shoots him a look. yeah, they’re thinking the same thing. 

 

“um, if it’s okay— can you ask them to pack up gguk’s bulgogi? we’ll come pick it up, but i think—”

 

he shoots jungkook a questioning look, eyebrows raised. jungkook nods.

 

“yeah, i think i’ll take him home,” jimin says, turning back to look at the cracks in the pavement. “tired, you know.”

 

silence, just the clatter of utensils, glasses. namjoon’s laugh. and then— “text me, later.”

 

jimin sighs. “yeah, okay. just—” 

 

“text me,” taehyung repeats, and this time jimin can hear the smile in his voice. “get him home safe, and don’t stay the night. stop making it harder on yourself. idiot.”

 

jimin shakes his head, bites back a smile. “you’re annoying. i’ll talk to you later, okay?”

 

“yup,” taehyung hums, pops the p, and hangs up. 

 

“let’s put concealer on you,” jimin sighs, turning to jungkook again. jungkook pouts, and ducks his head to rest his chin on jimin’s shoulder. 

 

jimin smiles, a little— he can’t really look at jungkook properly, this way, he’s too close for jimin to see anything but forehead and a bit of eyebrow. jungkook huffs out a sigh, and then there’s fingers curling into his shirt, squeezing. 

 

“what,” jimin asks, chuckling. 

 

too much, too dangerous. 

 

what are they, right now. they’re not friends, they’re not more. jimin hurts, hurts, jungkook pulling at his heartstrings. 

 

“can you—” jungkook takes a breath. “um.”

 

“what,” jimin asks again, smile faltering. he’s pretty sure the second half of that is kiss me, and he isn’t sure he wants to be asked that at all. “c’mon, concealer and then we’ll pick up your food—”

 

jungkook surges forward, up, and kisses him. 

 

jimin stills, breath caught in his throat. jungkook’s mouth sticky with lip gloss, tasting of peach and crackers and banana. 

 

trembling, furious. aching. 

 

it aches, the kiss, jungkook touching him like that. hurting, desperate. the sharp breath he takes. this kiss is new too, it’s uncharted too— the kiss in the club was hungry, desperate. but this, this. 

 

this. 

 

jungkook’s sharp breath over his skin, how he parts his mouth just a little, like he can’t help himself. 

 

pushes forward. pushes jimin back, like he wants jimin to run just so he can chase— so he can press the peach to his lips and leave them tasting the same.

 

jungkook pulls away, takes a breath that shakes so dangerously, lingers there— swaying in place, eyelashes fluttering. 

 

jimin can’t tell if he’s breathing.

 

a chime, as the convenience store doors slide open with a hiss, the crunch of a heavyset man climbing down the stairs, disappearing down the street. 

 

jimin stares.

 

jungkook sitting there frozen. still in it, in the kiss, in the moment. keeps himself there, eyes closed, mouth parted. and then— 

 

“sorry,” jungkook mumbles, ducking down again to dig his chin into jimin’s shoulder. “sorry.”

 

jimin wants so much. too much. 

 

he has no words for it— just feelings, just things he wishes he could do. it thrums in his arms, his hands. the ache to touch, the ache to hold. without boundaries, without the strings in his heart pulled taught and pulled breathless. 

 

jungkook touching him like that, kissing him like that. it feels like too much. it’s jungkook feeding right into his greed, his ugly want for more. jungkook keeps giving him more. 

 

jimin swallows hard. 

 

“it’s fine,” he says, quiet. his heart is racing, his entire body thrums, “just— move over, let me, um. put the concealer on you.”

 

jungkook shifts, pulls away and then tips his head up. the blind trust, again again again. 

 

jimin’s hands tremble, when he cups the back of jungkook’s neck and then covers up the marks he left, one by one. 

 

“why can’t they see,” jungkook asks. 

 

jimin has no answer. he pulls back and sets the concealer down. pats jungkook’s knee, stands. 

 

“i’ll call you an uber on the way there,” jimin tells him. 

 

there are so many things he doesn’t know the answer to, right now. jungkook keeps asking things and he keeps leaving him hanging, keeps leaving him hands empty. but if he answered, jungkook would know, and then they would lose all this. 

 

jimin would rather leave him hanging. 

 

“why can’t they see,” jungkook insists, gravel crunching under his shoes as he stands. 

 

jimin shakes his head, says nothing again, and leads jungkook toward the sidewalk. they have a short walk to the restaurant, and jimin hopes jungkook doesn’t keep insisting. 

 

it’s night. it’s late. 

 

the city sleeps and screeches around them at the same time— the very, very faint thump-thump of the club behind them, the laughter one block over. the street empty, the cars parked by the curb.

 

jimin can’t remember the last time he was out this late.

 

wind, breeze. it tickles his forehead, cools the heat on the back of his neck.

 

he feels so much and so little at the same time. it’s so simple, sometimes, to be with jungkook. it was always simple, between them— they wanted things, and they did them. got lunch, watched movies, slept over. 

 

and now— things are a little more complicated. but they still want things, and they still do them.

 

jungkook reaches for him, tangles their fingers together. 

 

jimin chokes on it, how the thrum surges, how his chest seizes— painful, painful. he aches. it’s something so visceral. not a want but a need. 

 

jungkook knocking his head into jimin’s shoulder, squeezing his fingers between his own. 

 

if jimin knew being in love hurt this much, he would’ve never done it.

 

he takes jungkook home. 

 

he grabs his pork bulgogi for him, ignores the looks he gets from taehyung and seokjin, and climbs into the uber with him. 

 

lets jungkook rest his head in his lap, lets jungkook play with his fingers. lets jungkook reach into his chest and tangle the strings of his heart, lets him grab and twist and snap some of them right in half. 

 

it hurts, it always does, the way jungkook touches him. sweet, gentle, careful. jimin always wants to cry with it. 

 

jungkook in his lap, doe-eyed and staring at jimin’s hand, tapping at the knuckles, marveling at the way the joints move, the tendons flex. jungkook’s fingertips cold where they touch, light light light. 

 

jimin allows himself this self-indulgence. the worst, most lovesick parts of himself, that feel exhausted, feel worn and harrowed with carrying it all the time— he indulges them, feeds them. 

 

slides his hand into jungkook’s hair and brushes a thumb across his forehead, stares. 

 

it’s ugly, what he feels. ugly, ugly. 

 

the greed. 

 

of wanting more, of calling their friendship not enough. of pushing them to more. of asking, first, because he couldn’t bear it— taking more and more from jungkook. 

 

and still, still. not enough. 

 

jungkook gives and gives and all jimin wants is for him to take. 

 

to grab jimin and take— take his blood, his sweat, his tears, his dance, his arms and legs, his heart. to rip at his skin, to rip him apart. to reach a hand in his throat and take his last breath, leave him cold. it would be easier. 

 

it would be easier. 

 

“jungkook,” he murmurs. 

 

it would be easier, if jungkook wasn’t who he is. if he wasn’t like this— if he didn’t trust, if he didn’t touch jimin gentle, if he didn’t look wide-eyed and smiling. 

 

jimin smiles back, helpless to do anything else, and taps his thumb to jungkook’s forehead. 

 

“take care of yourself, okay?”

 

jungkook drums his fingertips to jimin’s palm, raises his eyebrows. “i will. you’re comfortable, hyung.”

 

“am i?” jimin chuckles. jungkook nods. jimin wants to slam his head into the window. “i’m glad, then.”

 

jungkook falls asleep. 

 

falls asleep with jimin’s hand in his hair, the other hugged to his chest. 

 

jimin keeps indulging. 

 

sick, sick sick sick. keeps indulging and brushes his thumb along the line of jungkook’s nose, smooths it along his brow. swipes it over his mouth, traces the corners, the line of his bottom lip. 

 

the feeling of jungkook’s skin under his thumb, smooth and a little cold from the wind, the makeup wipes. he lets his thumb follow the curve of his chin, lets himself swipe over the concealer until he can eye the purple. 

 

the marks that scream desperate, the scream moremoremoreplease, scream not enough.  

 

jungkook’s never complained about them before, but he’s never marked jimin up. 

 

it says what it needs to say, but jimin can never seem to stop. 

 

he links their hands, closes his eyes. 

thread > jin

jin 1:04 am

> home yet?

 

jimin blinks, squints at the brightness of his phone in the car. he dropped jungkook off at his apartment, protested quietly when jungkook asked him to come upstairs and instead soothed him with a kiss to his forehead, a squeeze to his hand. 

 

and now here he is— wallowing in the backseat of this uber, frowning at his phone like it murdered someone.

 

jm

> just dropped gguk off

> my head hurts

 

jin

> call me when you’re there, then

> we have Things to talk about

 

jm

> >:(

> arent you still at the restaurant

 

jin

> yeah but the revelation that youre fucking jungkook has to be a little more important than that

 

jimin gapes.

 

jm

> how dare you

> excuse me

 

jin

> … is that not what it was. because it was pretty obvious to me

 

jm

> >>>:(

> yeah

 

jin

> see im always right

> are you drunk? cause maybe this is better to talk about when you’re sober

> orrr maybe you’ll be less stupid if you’re drunk? who knows

> just call me when you’re home

 

jm

> ugh

> fine

 

he gets home, and calls seokjin. 

 

“hi,” seokjin says. he’s clearly still at the restaurant, there’s music in the background and conversation, muffled. “i’m down a back hallway, don’t worry, no one to overhear me. do you want to talk or should i?”

 

“you’re annoying,” jimin sighs, digging his face into his pillow. he’s in jungkook’s hoodie, because he hates himself, and the clothes from tonight are folded on the chair in the corner of his room.

 

he already knows he won’t wash them, he’ll leave them folded neat and let the perfume linger until it fades. 

 

jungkook is so addicting, there’s something about him— how he smells, talks, smiles, touches. it’s what pulled jimin in at first, and now he’s kept there by those hands, the same ones that hold him so carefully, those hands tangled ugly in his heartstrings. 

 

“does that mean i should talk first,” seokjin smiles. “i have a lot of questions.”

 

“yeah, ask them,” jimin sighs, rolling onto his back. “i’m not even sure where i’d start.”

 

“okay,” seokjin hums. “how long has it been going on? and why didn’t you tell me?”

 

( it’s late afternoon. 

 

the rest of the team has filed out, one by one— first taehyung, complaining of the heat, then seokjin. once hoseok left, that was pretty much the end of it.

 

so now it’s just them— jimin sitting with his back to the wall, fanning himself with his hands. jungkook lying on the floor, shirt hiked up above his stomach, doing the same. 

 

it’s fucking hot. 

 

it’s so fucking hot, and jimin is almost hot enough to not notice jungkook’s stomach. he knows jungkook gets lazy over the summer, doesn’t go on his regular jogs or spend as much time at the gym— so it’s a little soft. smooth. pretty. 

 

it’s pretty, his stomach is pretty. the skin a little shiny with sweat, the line of his hips that disappears quick, too quick, into his shorts. 

 

jimin knows jungkook wants him.

 

he’s not an idiot, he has eyes, he sees the way jungkook looks at him. it’s kind of always been there— and he can’t really blame him, can he? jimin knows how to move, how to dress, how to charm. it makes sense.

 

and it’s not like jimin doesn’t want him right back— that little twitch in his gut, every time jungkook groans as he stretches, sits a little too close and touches too thoughtless.

 

but, ah. there’s never really been a reason.

 

he loves jungkook. actually— he’s in love with jungkook. (slight difference.) it’s not worth it. he knows it would hurt, to do that to himself.

 

then jungkook sits up and it all kind of goes out the window. 

 

jungkook collapsed on the floor and chugged an entire bottle of water, earlier— and that means when he straightens with a grunt, blinks hard and yawns— 

 

his mouth. god. 

 

he’s got his eyes closed, sleepy, and so jimin stares. 

 

his mouth, his lips still wet with water, shiny under the shitty fluorescent lights. pretty pretty pretty. his lips pink, stretching as he yawns again. his tongue, darker red. how he sighs, pouts his bottom lip. 

 

plump, pink, pretty.

 

jungkook blinks his eyes open, reaches for the water bottle again. he’s still not looking and so jimin doesn’t bother tearing his eyes away, as he brings it to his lips, and drinks. 

 

the bob of his throat, how he tips his head back. lips wrapped around the water bottle, the wet sound as he pulls back, sighs. 

 

jimin’s mind is running away from him.

 

“hyung?”

 

he snaps out of it, eyes darting up to meet jungkook’s. he knows. 

 

jimin knows he knows, but it’s not like he hasn’t caught jungkook staring before, staring much more obvious. 

 

he makes a vague gesture, points to his mouth. “got something,” he hums, and swipes a thumb across his own lips in demonstration.

 

some part of him just wants to know if jungkook will do it. if jimin can be this obvious.

 

jungkook reaches up, and runs a thumb over his bottom lip. slow, presses down. jimin hungrily watches his lip swell, plump, watches his thumb pull away wet with water. 

 

jimin clenches his jaw. 

 

“good.”

 

the AC hums in the background, but it doesn’t cover the way jungkook’s breath catches and then he chokes, coughs on nothing and quickly swallows it down, cheeks red. 

 

jimin hides his smile, ducks his head. he shouldn’t be pleased. 

 

it’s a little over the line, maybe. but it’s fun, jungkook is fun to fluster, and if jimin gets to see his mouth like that— what’s the harm.

 

jungkook takes a short breath, and then swipes a sleeve over his chin, gets the rest of the water that spilled over and then stands. groans as he stretches, and jimin nearly rolls his eyes.

 

but it’s hot. he’s tired, sweaty, exhausted. his body buzzes with it. the heat. 

 

“one more?”

 

jimin looks up at him. jungkook’s eyes bright, curious. jimin wonders if they’re thinking the same thing— what’s the harm.

 

there’s a little more at stake for jimin, but he’s never been careful with himself, with his feelings. always ran a little too fast, too hard. he didn’t stop himself, falling for jungkook. 

 

and so, this— what’s the harm. 

 

“sure,” he says. 

 

one more time. he stands, makes his way back toward the center of the room and then stretches his arms high above his head— sighs, soft, feels something click in his lower back. 

 

the music starts— and then jungkook is next to him, sneakers squeaking. 

 

jimin moves easy, thoughtless— he’s not really going all out, just marking it, humming the words as he goes. jungkook doing the same, more or less, even if he tries a little harder. their easy competition, during practices— how jimin masters it, and then jungkook masters it more. 

 

“footwork,” jimin notes quietly, nodding at him. 

 

jungkook snorts, but corrects himself. 

 

there’s a moment— when they move closer, together, as the music hits a low point, turns into something smoother. and of course, of course, when jungkook grabs him and rolls his hips, thighs spread— 

 

“look pretty today, hyung,” he says, quiet. 

 

jimin pulls back, continues through the choreography. jungkook’s palms burn, over his waist, the ghosts of them. it’s so fucking hot in here. jungkook’s palms are hotter. 

 

“do i?” he asks.

 

jungkook is looking at him through the mirror. 

 

jimin doesn’t pay him any attention, moves unbothered through the last chorus. pretends he’s paying attention, looking for mistakes in his footwork, his isolations. 

 

(he’s not.)

 

jungkook’s breathing is heavier than his, soft pants that echo off the walls. the squeak of his sneakers. his shirt riding up, sticking to him with sweat. his stomach. pretty.

 

“you look pretty too,” jimin says, as the song cuts off. straightens, rolls his shoulders back. dips down, bends himself in half and stretches his hamstrings too. “that was the last one, right? i’m tired.”

 

jungkook’s hand on his back, low. “yeah.”

 

totally fine. jimin is totally fine. they’re doing something, they’re going somewhere, and jimin can’t tell if he’s happy about it yet. just knows it’s dangerous. this new competition. 

 

when he looks up again, turns to gather his things— jungkook is drinking again. 

 

jimin knows this on purpose, now. how he guzzles from it, throat bobbing, head tipped back like it’s the best fucking water he’s ever had. and when he pulls back, turns—

 

that fucking mouth. 

 

that mouth, dear god, jimin is going to go insane. 

 

whatever it is— about the lips pink and pretty and parted, like that, aching to be spread further. jimin wants to dip his fingers into his mouth, run a thumb across his lips. 

 

his mind is running away from him again.

 

“hyung,” jungkook says. 

 

jimin makes no move to look away, just hums. glances at him, and then watches his lips pull up into a pleased smile. 

 

“see something you like?”

 

“hm, yeah,” jimin hums, dropping his gaze to step closer and duck down, grab his discarded jacket and shove it into his backpack. “pretty mouth on you, gguk-ah.”

 

there’s no mistaking the tease in jungkook’s voice now, the rough lying just under it. 

 

“is it?”

 

jimin hums, doesn’t give him an answer in words. just crouches, zips up his backpack, and pushes his hair back from his forehead. jungkook’s hand pushing at his until he drops it, and lets jungkook comb his hair back for him. 

 

it’s too soft, for what they’re talking about, for the buzz of heat in the studio right now. but it’s jungkook, so it works anyway. 

 

jimin shivers. 

 

jungkook’s fingers pause for barely a second before they’re dragging over his scalp again, carding through his hair until they curl into a fist, squeeze. 

 

“is it,” jungkook asks again. 

 

jimin finds it funny. he really does, the way jungkook thinks he’s in charge. very cute.

 

jimin tips his head up, and looks at him. jungkook’s hand slackens, just a little— jimin knows exactly what he’s doing, and lets his eyes go a little hazy. lets the thoughts he’s thinking run a little wild, lets them spike in his gut. 

 

he knows exactly what he looks like, on his knees, looking up at jungkook like he’s the only fucking thing in the world. 

 

and then he smiles, a little. something coy. dark. 

 

“yeah, really.”

 

jungkook’s turn to shiver, now. he lets go of jimin’s hair, smooths it down for him and then steps back. jimin eyes him, how he shifts his weight, fiddles with his fingers. 

 

there’s a broom closet that’s always unlocked, in the hallway they take to the parking lot. jimin usually goes in there to sit and eat his lunch away from the rest of the building, too loud. 

 

it’s also dark, quiet, and he knows it’s pretty soundproof because he’d knocked over a giant stack of boxes and the approximate one million students in the hallway hadn’t even noticed. 

 

“ready?” jimin asks, standing. shoots him a look, one that’s just as coy, just as dark as his smile. ready for what, he can hear jungkook thinking. he nods toward the door. 

 

they walk out together. 

 

jungkook stays close to him, shoulders bumping and then pressing together, even in this sticky heat. they both smell like sweat, like work and dance and the dry air of the practice room. 

 

“tired?” jimin asks, glancing at him.

 

“mm,” jungkook hums noncommittally. “could’ve gone a bit longer.”

 

jimin eyes the door down the hallway. closer, closer. all he has to do is ask. they both want it. 

 

danger. danger, danger— a whisper, in the back of his mind. 

 

the door keeps getting closer, closer, closer, he just needs— to take that first step. to ask. to let the buzz, the heat, take him over— to stop thinking too much, to just— ask—

 

“can we,” jimin asks, reaching for the door, “can we—”

 

“yeah,” jungkook breathes immediately, and they both clamber inside, desperate, door shoved closed and then— 

 

jimin is greedy. the need, the ugly want, pulses.

 

he realizes it was a bad idea way too late, when jungkook is already in his lap, head knocked back against his shoulder as he comes whining jimin’s name. 

 

realizes too late— and now he has to live with the mess he’s made. )

 

“hello?”

 

jimin blinks, snaps out of it. seokjin’s voice, bordering on a laugh, through the phone. right. 

 

“sorry, what?”

 

“i asked when it started,” seokjin chuckles. “why, were you busy thinking of something?”

 

jimin pouts, and decides to ignore that second question. “ah, give or take a few months? just before the beginning of the school year, anyway. like— remember when we started practice a few weeks early?”

 

“that’s not a few months,” seokjin says, “that’s like. almost a year. we’re in may.”

 

“i— yeah,” jimin frowns, “and it was august, when we— why does it matter how long it’s been going on? i figured you’d have different questions—”

 

“i do, there’s just so much i don’t know,” seokjin huffs. “have you guys talked about it? is it healthy? like— is it a mutual thing, are you guys just fucking—”

 

“oh my god,” jimin groans, running a hand over his face. “i can guarantee it’s not very healthy, no, obviously we didn’t really talk about it—”

 

“ jimin, ” seokjin sighs. 

 

“i know,” jimin wrinkles his nose, “but, listen. it’s messy enough as it is, i don’t— i don’t want to fuck it up even further, especially because i—”

 

he narrows his eyes. takes a breath. as much as he feels it, he’s never said it before. 

 

he’s never said it before. i love him. it always felt too much. too empty, somehow. not enough for what he feels, how intrinsic it is to him. that he just— wants. wants.

 

they know he has feelings for jungkook, but feelings just feels flimsy. feelings could mean anything. but, god. what he feels. 

 

jimin takes another breath, lets it out slow.

 

“because i love him,” he finishes. 

 

“oh,” seokjin says. 

 

jimin closes his eyes, listens to the shitty pop music pumped through the restaurant, seokjin shifting his weight and the floorboards creaking beneath him. 

 

jimin takes slow breaths, tries to calm the thrum in his stomach, his thighs, his hands. 

 

“you love him?” seokjin asks. his voice is softer, now. “last you told me it was a crush.”

 

“yeah, well.”

 

“yeah, well,” seokjin agrees quietly. “shit.”

 

“shit,” jimin echoes. 

 

seokjin sighs, shifts his weight again. the music changes to something rap, less synths and more bass. jimin blinks hard. 

 

all of him beats jungkook, right now. the name pulses through him, brands itself to his skin. jungkook, jungkook jungkook jungkook. it’s fucking scary, how much jimin wants him.

 

“why didn’t you tell me?” seokjin asks, even quieter. “have you told anyone?”

 

“no,” jimin says. he swallows hard. “i thought maybe if i just ignored it—”

 

“oh, jimin-ah,” seokjin interrupts with a sigh. jimin winces. “that never works. are you— you’re serious, aren’t you? you’re in love with him? sex isn’t— isn’t the way to deal with that—”

 

“this is why i didn’t tell you,” jimin says, words choking in his throat. “i don’t want to stop, and you’re going to tell me to stop—”

 

“i’m not,” seokjin tells him softly, “i’m not. it’s your life, you do what you want. but, jiminie. if you love him that way and he’s just in it for sex, you’re hurting yourself. it’s not— i won’t tell you to stop, but you have to know it’s not good for you.”

 

jimin blinks hard. “i know.”

 

“are you listening to me?” seokjin sighs. “don’t just— please take this seriously.”

 

“i am,” jimin bristles, “i’m just— i know where i stand, already. so i’m— i know.”

 

“do you?” seokjin asks. “where do you stand, then?”

 

jimin takes a breath, swallows hard. jungkook’s hands, tearing at the strings in his chest. it hurts, all the time. he wonders if jungkook kissed him more, if it would stop hurting then. if more trembling furious aching kisses would stop the hurt, would untangle those strings. 

 

“he doesn’t feel the same way,” jimin says quietly. blinks hard. “and i’m always going to love him. so i’ll take what i can get.”

 

seokjin is quiet, for a moment. jimin knows there’s things he wants to say— seokjin has always been more optimistic than him, always pushed him to try a little harder, but. but this isn’t really something he’ll budge on, and he thinks seokjin knows that. 

 

“okay,” seokjin sighs. jimin closes his eyes. did he want seokjin to push? maybe, maybe. “okay, if you say so. but, jiminie, i am begging you. it’s not good for you.”

 

“i know,” jimin murmurs. “but it’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

 

“is it?” seokjin asks. “he loves you, you know. maybe not the way you want, but he loves you a lot. more than the rest of us, i think. you two, it’s always you two. i don’t even understand it, half the time.”

 

“don’t make me cry,” jimin warns him, crying already. seokjin laughs. jimin wipes at his cheeks, sniffs. “i know he does, but that’s— it feels so, like. bad. to want more. it’s like i’m calling it not enough, the way he— the way he loves me—”

 

“you’re not,” seokjin cuts in, “trust me, you’re not. you’re so sweet to him, all the time, and he’s so, so gentle with you. you’re not , jimin—”

 

“what the fuck,” jimin laughs, watery, “what the fuck, don’t say that.”

 

“it’s true,” seokjin smiles, “you know it’s true. you give each other so much already. of course his love is enough.”

 

“god,” jimin sighs. “god, this sucks.”

 

“i know,” seokjin chuckles. “but you’re strong, yeah? you’ve made it this far without telling anyone, apparently, and now you’ve got me behind you. so you’ll be just fine, jimin-ah.”

 

“yeah,” jimin sniffs, swallowing hard. he believes it, for now. “do you think everyone knows, after tonight?”

 

“anyone who saw you,” seokjin snorts. “god. how did we not know before?”

 

“we’ve only ever done it after dance practice,” jimin sighs, “we’re not— we weren’t supposed to do anything at the club, but—”

 

“ jimin, ” seokjin hisses, “ in the practice rooms?”

 

jimin’s eyes go wide. “um. i— um. in the— the closets?”

 

“oh my god,” seokjin groans, “oh my god, are you serious? not in the privacy of your own homes —?”

 

“it’s just—” jimin winces, “too much, that way. i don’t want to get too close, otherwise it’s— just, yeah.”

 

“right,” seokjin sighs. “okay, well— tae, be right there. what? yeah, i’m just talking to jimin, let me— hi, sorry. i’ve gotta go, but we’ll get lunch sometime this week, yeah?”

 

“yeah,” jimin says, yawning. “i’m so tired.”

 

“eventful night,” seokjin chuckles. “text me if you need anything, okay? sleep well, jimin-ah.”

 

“okay,” jimin sighs. rolls over, presses his cheek to the pillow. “thank you.”

 

“i love you,” seokjin smiles, “and you’re welcome.”

 

“blegh,” jimin groans, smiling like an idiot, “love you too.”

 

“okay,” seokjin laughs. he’s walking now, jimin can hear it, the music getting louder. “i’ll see you soon. bye, jiminie.”

 

“bye,” jimin sighs, and tosses his phone to the side. rubs at his eyes and then shuffles under the covers, settles into bed. 

 

he wonders if jungkook showered, if he’s eaten. wonders if he still wanted to be close, maybe. jimin realizes belatedly jungkook never told him why his day was long, what happened. 

 

their original plan, their friends plan— to go home together, watch a movie, talk. it feels so far away.

 

thread > gguk

jm 1:19 am

> hey

> asleep yet?

 

gguk

> no

> before you ask yes i showered 

> and im eating something rn

 

jimin smiles. lets himself smile wide, because nobody is here to see it, how stupidly smitten he looks. jungkook knows him— has always known him, even when they first met and he was a shy freshman, looking up at jimin with big doe eyes. 

 

jungkook has somehow always seen him. jimin never knows how, or why, but jungkook always sees him.

 

jm

> good

> what are you eating?

 

gguk

> more crackers

> idk whats in them tonight but im like, REALLY into crackers all of a sudden

 

jm

> lmaoo

> and water!!

 

gguk

> as if i havent already chugged a glass

> trust me i have a little jimin on my shoulder constantly telling me “eat well!! lots of protein!! drink more water!! you need to rest!!”

> it would be annoying if i didnt love you

 

jimin takes a breath, lets it out slow. he knows seokjin just told it to him, that jungkook loves him. but it somehow hurts, here, the blatant way jungkook says it. 

 

it screams friendship, because jimin knows he wouldn’t be able to say it. 

 

knows full well if he did that with jungkook and the roles were reversed, i love you would be the last thing he’d say. too much weight, behind it. but clearly— it’s not too much weight for jungkook. 

 

jm

> what im hearing is im annoying

 

gguk

> i mean yeah, that too

 

jimin snorts. he likes texting jungkook, honestly. he’s funnier over text, snarkier. 

 

jimin rolls over, rests his phone against the sheets.

 

jm

> i didnt know you had crackers at home

> maybe its fate

 

gguk

> me and crackers: true love

> it was destiny

 

jm

> lol

> do you still believe you’ll hear bells?

> when you meet your soulmate, or however it works

 

gguk

> mm idk

> what if i meet them when im 50, wouldnt that be super lame

 

jm

> that’s still a good 40 years with them

 

gguk

> yeah but as OLD people

> ew

> dont want a wrinkly boyfriend

 

jimin chuckles. he eyes jungkook’s contact picture, the one that’s been there for, what, a year? when they met up over the summer to watch a meteor shower. 

 

jimin climbing into jungkook’s car and then the both of them watching the shower from the roof of it, when he ran out of gas on the highway. 

 

jungkook’s arm around his middle, his head on jimin’s shoulder. before they were doing whatever this was, when jimin didn’t know what jungkook’s lips felt like on his, what he looked like fucked-out and turned on. 

 

he wonders if it was more pure, then. 

 

if his love has twisted, somehow, knowing what he knows now.

 

gguk

> maybe if i just lather them in anti aging lotion i can have a smooth, not wrinkly 50 year old boyfriend

 

jimin laughs, shoulders shaking. 

 

he thinks maybe his love can be twisted and pure at the same time— ugly in the way he wants jungkook, wants more from him when he should already be satiated— but pure, in moments like these.

 

when jungkook makes him laugh out loud like an idiot, when they talk late and stay up together. when they look at each other without anything, just to look.

 

moments like these, like these. 

 

jungkook’s hands in his heartstrings, fitted neat in all the nooks and crannies. 

 

it doesn’t hurt, for a moment. the strings wrap around his fingers, his knuckles, his palm, his wrist. wrap themselves around him, make room. 

 

it doesn’t hurt.

 

jm

> lmaoo yeah good idea

> you’d have to lather yourself in anti aging lotion too, old man

 

gguk

> if my smooth skinned bf can’t appreciate me in all my wrinkled beauty then i dont want him

 

jimin snorts. 

 

jm

> shouldnt it be the same for you too?

 

gguk

> well. hes my soulmate he’ll understand

> did you eat something?

 

jimin smiles, rolls onto his back. he’s not sure when, exactly, he started falling. 

 

if it was when jungkook joined the team after his encouragements— after jimin spent his afternoons teaching him the basics, praising him, watching him come out of his shell little by little. 

 

if it was when jungkook ran— ran, to the practice rooms when he was told jimin fainted from exhaustion and the summer heat. when jungkook was in the middle of class but got a text from taehyung and dropped everything, had to ask a janitor to unlock the classroom for him so he could get his backpack and laptop back.

 

if it was when jungkook fell asleep curled up in his lap, when they all took a road trip down to busan for the weekend. when jimin spent the last hour of the ride up to seoul carding fingers through his hair, memorizing every detail on his face. 

 

there have been a million moments, and jimin thinks it might be all of them.

 

he’s been falling, he’s still falling. 

 

jungkook keeps pulling him in, pulling him closer. he’s eager, he’s obvious, and he tells jimin what he wants. gives and gives and gives.

 

jimin wants him to take, for once.

 

jm

> i didn’t

> im not that hungry though

 

gguk

> hyungggg….

> you know thats bullshit

> you would call me on my bullshit too!! eat crackers with me, cmon

 

jimin chuckles, sighs. god. he’s in so deep, and jungkook— jungkook isn’t in deep at all. 

 

jm

> i’m pretty sure i dont have crackers

> and plus im in bed >:( im comfy

 

gguk

> SO????

> food is more important than being comfy

 

jimin rolls his eyes, but he sits up and dangles his legs off the bed. 

 

jm

> fine

> what should i eat instead of crackers

 

gguk

> hmmm

 

jimin stands, stretches and lets out a soft sigh before he pads to the kitchen. 

 

he thinks there are only three people in the fucking world that could get him out of bed like this when he’s already made himself comfortable. jeon jungkook, the bastard, kim seokjin— because jimin loves him very much, and kim taehyung, who would annoy him into doing it. 

 

gguk

> whats smth thats like, very calorically dense

 

jm

> why are you using big words, it’s like 4am

 

gguk

> its 1:30 and im about to get a degree in literature??? shut up

> maybe bread

> like, carbs, yk

 

jm

> you want me… to eat… plain bread.

 

gguk

> I DONT KNOW DO I

 

jimin chuckles, ducks his head into the fridge to retrieve leftover takeout, from two nights ago. he shuffles over, grabs a plate and dumps everything onto it, because now that he thinks of it he is hungry. 

 

jm

> ok im having leftover takeout

 

gguk

> yesss

> what takeout?

 

jm

> [Attachment: 1 image]

 

gguk

> crying at your kumamon socks

> damn now i feel like my crackers arent enough </3

 

jm

> your crackers r valid

> whats wrong with my kumamon socks? they make yoongi hyung so absurdly happy so i wear them to sleep

 

gguk

> first of all, extremely gross that you sleep with socks on

> second of all, theres nothing wrong!! you’re cute in them

 

jimin stares, blinking hard. the hum of the microwave, the tile cold against his feet even through the socks. you’re cute in them. okay. 

 

BEEP.  

 

jimin startles, pulls the microwave open and blows on the food, carries it over to the couch. 

 

jm

> my feet get cold !!!

> and thank u :3

 

gguk

> ok what should i eat besides crackers

> OH IM STUPID

> the bulgogi oh my god

 

jimin laughs, shoulders shaking. he sets his phone down on the couch, ducks his head into his food. it’s a little too hot but he holds it in his mouth anyway, eyes lingering as he waits for another text.

 

gguk

> god what do they put in this

> how am i just discovering how good pork bulgogi is????

> im 21 i should know this by now

 

jimin snorts. 

 

jm

> send pics pls

 

gguk

> [Attachment: 1 image]

> [Attachment: 1 image]

 

jimin smiles. a picture of the bulgogi, straight on, and then a selfie with jungkook smiling wide, eyes disappearing into it, nose scrunched up. 

 

he definitely did shower, his hair is pulled up in a loose bun, damp and falling into his eyes, and he looks regular. looks soft, looks tired. doesn’t look wrecked, the way he still did when jimin saw him last. 

 

jm

> cute

> now i wish i’d gotten smth from the barbecue place

> apparently they’re really good

 

gguk

> they ARE

> we should go back together at some point n stuff our faces

 

jm

> yeah

 

it’s always easier, for jungkook. of course it is, he isn’t horribly in love, but jimin still resents it a little bit. how easily he asks to make plans, how easily he drops the words cute and love. there’s less weight, for him. 

 

jimin sighs.

 

jm

> yeah that sounds good

 

gguk

> i expect a picture of an empty plate, just so you know >:)

 

jm

> so do i!!

 

gguk

> ok no offense but im not eating all this bulgogi tn

 

jm

> lol

> an update pic, then

 

gguk

> i can do that :3

> are you tired?

 

jm

> it’s 1:45

 

gguk

> .. ok i KNOW

> but dont you have a class tomorrow at like, 12?

 

jm

> yeah, thats why i went out tn

> mostly because hobi is literally a siren or something, idk how he convinced all of us to go, but also cause i can sleep late

 

gguk

> oh smart

> i have a 9am <3

 

jm

> ?!

> go to sleep omg

> what are you doing talking to me and eating bulgogi GO TO SLEEP

 

gguk

> noooooooo

> this is fun i like talking to you

> i

 

jimin blinks. the single i, the sentence left unfinished. jungkook typing, stopping, typing again. 

 

he frowns, sets his chopsticks down.

 

jm

> you?

 

gguk

> i wish you’d come over

 

jimin stares. 

 

jm

> now?

 

gguk

> no, i meant

> when you dropped me off

 

jimin blinks hard. oh. 

 

he was right, jungkook still wants to be close. jungkook still had a long day, he still wants to talk about it. 

 

jimin chews on his bottom lip. he’s going to regret this, isn’t he. 

 

jm

> if you want

> i can help you finish the bulgogi?

 

every time he does something like this— offers something, asks to hang out— it feels like he’s showing his hand. feels like he’s giving away too much, revealing something he wasn’t meant to.

 

but that’s just him, because he knows his ask has the thrum, the ache behind it. but for jungkook, it’s just— an ask. 

 

gguk

> i do want that

 

jimin sets his phone down, brings his plate to the kitchen and dumps the takeout back into the styrofoam box. gathers his things— backpack, toothbrush, sweater and a change of clothes— and heads for the door.

 

jm

> be there in 15

 

gguk

> <3

he shows up yawning. 

 

it’s past 2 now, when he knocks on jungkook’s door and then rests his forehead against it, eyes sliding closed.

 

whatever it was about the drive over, it had him struggling to stay awake, and he’s glad he decided to just stay the night, because god knows he wouldn’t be able to drive himself home. his legs are still sore from their dancing, and even though the buzz of alcohol has mostly faded it still clouds him, feels fuzzy and leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

 

the door pulls open and he tips forward, startling— 

 

“hi,” jungkook laughs, catching him. jimin groans. “tired?”

 

“yes,” he sighs, straightening again. he forgot how good jungkook smells, when he’s freshly showered. 

 

jimin knows it’s that 3-in-1 shampoo he uses, which jimin finds disgusting, but whatever horrible chemicals they put in there make it smell so absurdly good that jimin just leans forward again, digs his nose into jungkook’s shoulder.

 

“what,” jungkook chuckles, hands coming up to cup jimin’s head, pat his hair. 

 

“it’s that stupid straight man body wash you use,” jimin complains, pulling back reluctantly. “it smells really good. show me to the pork bulgogi.”

 

jungkook snorts, but leads him toward the couch and nudges the plate toward him— he’s already set it up, the food and chopsticks laid out. jimin’s lips twitch up into a smile. he wants to tease, maybe, pinch jungkook’s side and drawl something in his ear— but he’s tired, and they’re past that.

 

so he pads over, takes his seat on the couch, and they eat together. jungkook’s shoulder knocking into his when he leans over to take a drink, elbows bumping.

 

“i’m so tired,” jimin complains, when his plate is clean and he sinks into the couch, watches jungkook eat with that furrow on his brow that means the food is good. 

 

jungkook shoots him a playful glance, waggles his chopsticks in a snarky reply, mouth full. jimin wrinkles his nose. 

 

“shut up.”

 

jungkook chuckles, holds up his hands in surrender, and keeps eating. jimin sighs, watching him. 

 

jungkook’s hair is still in a bun, strands falling into his eyes but hair definitely bunched up at the back. jimin eyes the t-shirt, a little too tight on him. the grey sweats, how they outline his thighs. sighs again, and tips his head up to look at the ceiling.

 

he’s not here for that, they’re past it. he’s here to eat and then sleep. 

 

“hyung,” jungkook starts. quiet, shy. jimin tilts his head up, looks at him again. “are you sure, um.”

 

jimin waits, patient. jungkook’s ears are furious red, and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, chopsticks set down on his plate. 

 

“are you sure it’s okay, that i, like.” jungkook cuts himself off again. 

 

jimin blinks. he honestly has no idea what jungkook is asking. he leans forward, rests a hand on his back. 

 

“what is it,” he asks, and dips his head to look at him properly. 

 

jungkook staring hard at the bulgogi, nearly all gone by now. he’s tired, but his eyes are wide and he looks shy, mostly. cheeks pretty pink and blinking quick.

 

“i know you said not to worry about it,” jungkook blurts, “but i just— i feel bad if i’m the only one that— yeah.”

 

oh, oh, oh. oh, okay. jimin’s lips twitch up, amused. pleased. 

 

he runs his hand up jungkook’s back, down again.

 

“what, you can’t say come? ”

 

jungkook bites down hard on his bottom lip, sucks. he’s blushing so hard. it’s cute, honestly. 

 

jimin wonders when they’ll get to sleep. they’ve broken the rules already, once, what’s a little more. jimin isn’t sure it’s a good idea at all— to do this at home, at jungkook’s place. that’s entirely new, too. the lights are on, they’re tired but not sweaty and sore. 

 

there’s no heat, right now. no reason, no excuse.

 

part of jimin hopes it doesn’t go there. the other part of him thinks of using jungkook’s bun as a handle, tugging his head back, and fucking him into the mattress. 

 

“it’s just—” jungkook closes his eyes, forces them open again. “a little embarrassing, i dunno.”

 

“why,” jimin asks. rubs his hand in slow circles on jungkook’s back, steady. “we’re adults. it’s sex. it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose. “i guess so.”

 

“tell me again,” jimin smiles. smooths his hand up, down, slow. “tell me again, gguk.”

 

jungkook pouts. fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and looks down. it’s almost funny, how shy jungkook gets like this— because when it’s the heat of the moment, when he’s riled up and whining— god, the mouth on him. 

 

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, cheeks burning. “i know you said it’s okay,” he starts, slow, “that i’m the only one that—” he takes a breath, “came. but, um. i just feel bad.”

 

“good,” jimin praises, and watches jungkook’s blush deepen. “nothing to feel bad about, gguk-ah, really. i meant what i said.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose. “what did you say.”

 

jimin chuckles, a little. “i didn’t say all of it,” he tells him, leaning closer. lets his hand slip a little lower, wrap around jungkook’s waist. massages his thumb into the muscle. “but i can say all of it now.”

 

“okay,” jungkook says, blinking hard. 

 

“okay,” jimin echoes. “it’s nothing to feel bad about, gguk, cause i like making you feel good. don’t mind if i don’t get off, if you get off. does that make sense?”

 

jungkook swallows hard, and jimin hears it.

 

“yeah.”

 

“and,” jimin adds, because he can feel the fluttery, shallow breaths jungkook is taking under his palm, “and, half the fun is hearing you. you know that? dunno what makes me come, honestly, if it’s you or how you sound.”

 

jungkook shudders. sort of— goes tense, neck pulled taught for a second before he lets out a slow breath. 

 

he’s trying to be subtle, jimin thinks, but it’s hard to be subtle when they’re sitting this close. 

 

“how i sound?” jungkook asks. breathless. he’s not hiding it well at all.

 

jimin smiles. he wonders how far gone he can get jungkook, with just words. just his voice. his hand on his waist. just that— the simple touch, and filthy, filthy words in his ear.

 

“you sound so pretty,” jimin tells him, quiet. lets his voice run a little deeper, feels the rumble in his chest. “when you take my cock, gguk. you want it so bad, don’t you? love the way you sound, when you’re choking on it.”

 

jungkook ducks his head. jimin smiles, pleased. squeezes his side. can feel jungkook’s shaky breaths, can see the angry red of his ears, flustered. 

 

“hyung likes—” jungkook stutters, and wow he sounds wrecked already. the whine, hinting just under his voice. “hyung likes to fuck my mouth?”

 

“mhm,” jimin hums. squeezes his side. purrs, close to his ear, “my favorite.”

 

jungkook’s entire body shakes. shakes. jimin squeezes his side, leans close to nip at his ear. jungkook lets out a soft sound, something horribly close to a whimper. 

 

jimin smiles— it’s a bad idea, but they’re here already and he can’t bring himself to think of why it’s a bad idea, all of a sudden.

 

“i like—” jungkook swallows hard. belatedly, jimin realizes the fingers playing with the hem of his shirt are now fisted in it, pulling it down between his legs, shy. cute, jimin thinks. “i like when you fuck my mouth.”

 

jimin’s smile grows, pleased. he lets his hand slip lower, grope jungkook’s hip, his thigh. presses his chest to jungkook’s shoulder, leans close to lick over the marks he left.

 

“yeah?” he encourages, “what else do you like, tell me.”

 

jungkook swallows hard, shifts and presses his thighs together. hands still pulling his shirt taught, tucking it between his legs. the soft whimper, when jimin squeezes his hip hard. 

 

“i like, um.” jungkook’s sharp breath, and then something so soft jimin can’t hear it. even this close, even with his nose brushing jungkook’s neck. 

 

“a little louder, baby,” jimin murmurs, mouthing over the purple on his throat. “just a little louder, for me.”

 

“i like, i like—” 

 

jungkook stutters, swallows hard. pulls anxiously on his shirt, and jimin chuckles. reaches over, taps at his knuckles. jungkook jumps, startles and lets go. jimin eyes the dark spot of precome on his sweats, kept hidden by the hands, the shirt. 

 

“pretty,” jimin murmurs, reaching over to slide a hand up jungkook’s thigh, squeeze. jungkook tenses, sides going taught under his palm. “tell me louder, baby.”

 

“when, um. when you—” jungkook takes a shaky breath, “can you please touch me, i’m—”

 

“not until you tell me,” jimin hums, stroking his hand leisurely along jungkook’s thigh, moving high but not high enough. massages the muscle, leaves kisses to jungkook’s neck. “come on, pretty. tell me.”

 

“when you call my— my cock, um,” jungkook stutters, “little.”

 

jimin pauses. oh, oh, oh. “good,” he purrs, “i know you do. want me to touch you now?”

 

“ please, ” jungkook whines, and jimin moves quick. pushes at him and jungkook goes easy, clambers to lie down on the couch, let jimin cage him in, sink down and shove his palm heavy and high between jungkook’s legs. “ oh, oh, fuck—”

 

“still riled up?” jimin asks, voice rough now, because jungkook’s leg is hanging off the couch and god, jimin wants to fuck him. 

 

he wants it so bad, jungkook’s thighs spread, his knee hiked up, his soft, hiccuping breaths as jimin grinds his palm down, rubs him through two layers of clothes and gets him a mess again. 

 

“yeah,” jungkook gasps, hips bucking up. 

 

his legs somehow spread wider, ankle hooking over jimin’s waist. jimin sucks in a sharp breath. jungkook already gone, already somewhere else, head knocked back into the armrest and cheeks flushed, mouth parted, hips grinding down. 

 

“look so good,” jimin tells him, letting jungkook rut against his hand, desperate, “spread out like this, for me. look so good, baby.”

 

“fuck,” jungkook gasps, “i’m gonna come like this—”

 

“you can,” jimin tells him, and jungkook whines, shakes his head. sucks on his bottom lip and then reaches down, tugs at jimin’s wrist, complains in whimpers. jimin takes his hand away, confused. “what, baby—”

 

jungkook hikes his leg up, pulls his knee to his chest and then lets his other leg dangle off the couch. spreads his legs further. offers himself like that, cheeks burning, but— but with his eyes dead set on jimin’s. 

 

“please,” jungkook whispers. 

 

jimin stares.

 

fuck.

 

“fuck.”

 

“please,” jungkook repeats, “please, i— i thought about it, i just want— fucked myself wishing it was—”

 

“don’t,” jimin warns, because if jungkook finishes that sentence jimin can’t guarantee he won’t break rule two right now. “don’t. fingers, i’ll give you my fingers, can you do that? fuck.”

 

“please,” jungkook whines, the sound going straight to jimin’s gut, “i feel— feel so— need you in me, hyung, please—”

 

jimin reaches up, shoves his fingers in jungkook’s mouth. jungkook takes them, gags a little but locks his lips around them, eager. jimin takes a sharp breath, cock throbbing between his legs. 

 

jungkook staring at him, eyes wide, legs still spread wide. 

 

“god,” jimin mumbles, drags his eyes over jungkook’s body. “god, you can’t say that.”

 

jungkook hums in protest around his fingers— tries to say something but gags, and jimin soothes his tears with a kiss to his neck, his jaw. dips his fingers against jungkook’s tongue and then pulls them out to kiss him instead. 

 

jungkook whimpers, small, pulls him close. wraps his legs around jimin’s hips and tries to pull him down, tries to roll his hips up. 

 

jimin doesn’t let him, just shuts him up with a kiss because please was making his head spin and god knows he wants it just as much as jungkook does.

 

“i— hyung,” jungkook murmurs, breathless, “fucked myself in the shower, you can—”

 

“what,” jimin says, blinking hard. “you what?”

 

jungkook’s cheeks haven’t stopped burning, but they somehow get even brighter red. “when— when i got home, i’m sorry— was looking at your hands in the car and i just—”

 

“oh, shit,” jimin mumbles, catches his whimper in a kiss again. deep, hungry. 

 

jungkook practically eats him, sucks on his tongue and kisses back so sloppily, so eagerly, like it’ll never be enough. the club— when jimin was food and jungkook was starved. 

 

jimin almost forgets what they’re doing, so caught up in jungkook’s tongue to his, the desperate way he kisses— but then jungkook’s legs tighten around his hips and he remembers. 

 

he sneaks a hand down, slips a hand into jungkook’s sweats. jungkook gasps, breaks the kiss, hips bucking up. jimin smirks, a little, thumbs over the head of his cock just to hear him do it again.

 

“ ah— hyung,” jungkook whines, “inside me, stop it—”

 

“sorry,” jimin soothes, kissing him again, “sorry, baby.”

 

moves his hand lower, finds jungkook’s rim blindly. he’s wet, there’s still lube leaking out of him, and jimin groans— the idea of jungkook fucking himself desperately in the shower, thinking of him, thinking of jimin — 

 

“god,” jimin mumbles, fingers circling his rim, “god, jungkook.”

 

“what— is it—” jungkook chokes, gulps down a hiccup, “is it too much, ‘m sorry—”

 

“no,” jimin tells him immediately. pushes a finger inside, tentative, but jungkook takes it easily, barely reacts. just stares up at him, cheeks flushed. “no, love it so much— how many d’you think you can take, baby?”

 

“all of them,” jungkook says. jimin blinks.

 

“i’m not going to fist you—”

 

“three,” jungkook corrects, laughter strained, “sorry, i meant— three, maybe four, you can—”

 

“okay,” jimin hums, scooting down to pull at jungkook’s sweats. 

 

he pulls his finger out and ignores the whine of complaint, because if they’re going to do this he wants to see it. pulls jungkook’s sweats down until jimin can see the strain of his cock against his boxers, leaking through the fabric. 

 

he glances up— jungkook breathing uneven, looking back. jimin arches an eyebrow, reaches up to brush his thumb over the head through the fabric.

 

“can barely see it,” jimin starts, and waits for a reaction. 

 

jungkook swallows hard, eyes fluttering closed before he forces them open. jimin smiles, a little, rubs his thumb along the length of jungkook’s cock. 

 

“so pretty, baby. so small. couldn’t fuck me with this if you tried.”

 

“shit,” jungkook groans, hips jerking, unconscious. 

 

jimin smiles. “so cute,” he continues, dipping his head to drag his tongue up, head to hilt, lingering over the sensitive skin at the base of his cock. mouths at it through the fabric, hums.

 

“ hyung, i’m—” 

 

jimin glances up at him and then jungkook whines, brings his hands up to cover his face— and jimin realizes, at the warmth spreading against his tongue, that jungkook is coming, his hips jerking and come dribbling out from the hem of his boxers. 

 

jimin hums, dips his head down and lick and suck at the head, still leaking come.

 

“baby’s so sensitive,” he praises. plays with the head of jungkook’s cock through the soiled fabric until jungkook complains, oversensitive. 

 

“just— please, i want, want you inside me,” jungkook babbles, thighs spreading again, leg hanging off the couch, “want you deep, please—”

 

“potty mouth,” jimin teases, but pulls his boxers down properly, bunches them up around his thighs and eyes jungkook’s rim, pretty and pink and wet. “tell me what you thought about.”

 

“wh-what?” jungkook hiccups, as jimin pushes two fingers inside, as his back arches up. 

 

“when you touched yourself,” jimin says, voice low. starts fucking him slowly, fingers pushing in and out at an achingly slow pace. but jungkook whines, grinds his hips down and spreads his thighs again, pulls the fabric of his boxers tight. “use your words, baby, tell me.”

 

“i—” jungkook gasps, “i’ll— hyung, i’ll tell you when you fuck me with three—”

 

jimin arches an eyebrow. “oh,” he hums, and stills his fingers, “making demands now?”

 

“no, nonono,” jungkook cries, throwing an arm over his eyes, “no, please, ‘m sorry—”

 

jimin thinks he might really lose it. jungkook wants it so bad. 

 

“hey, hey,” jimin soothes, softening, “hey, no, it’s okay—” he presses a kiss to jungkook’s stomach, his hip, smooths gentle hands down his thighs, “make demands, tell me, baby. want three?”

 

“y-yeah,” jungkook hiccups, sniffling. 

 

he’s sensitive tonight, jimin notes, and leaves soft kisses to the bone of his hip as he pushes in with three, slow. mouths at his stomach, at the base of his cock. 

 

jungkook sighs, soft pleasure, “shit, yeah— yeah, feels good—”

 

“yeah?” jimin hums, “feels good?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook mumbles, eyes sliding closed, “wish it was you, hyung, wish—”

 

“i know,” jimin cuts him off. 

 

he can’t let it go there, because he’s already achingly hard in his sweats, wondering if he can get off like this, rutting against the couch while he fucks jungkook with his fingers. now that he can feel it— jungkook tight and wet and warm around his fingers, begging for it, asking for it— he remembers very strongly why he’s stayed away from fingers this entire time. 

 

“i know, baby,” jimin soothes, hums the words to jungkook’s stomach and starts moving, fucks into him at a steady pace and just— watches.  

 

jungkook falling apart, taking his fingers eagerly, grinding his hips down and searching for more. 

 

until jimin gives it to him, fucks him hard and fast and crooks his fingers just right— gets jungkook a mess, grabbing at nothing and trembling, cock aching and pink and neglected, dribbling precome all over his stomach. 

 

jungkook with his head thrown back and mouth wide open— jimin suddenly wishes he could be in two places at once, fucking jungkook’s mouth too, pushing his lips open, feeding him his cock and fucking him at the same time—

 

“‘m gonna— hyung, ‘m gonna—”

 

“come on,” jimin breathes, head dizzy with it too— grinding mindlessly against the cushions, watching his fingers pump in and out of jungkook, watching jungkook’s stomach tense, watching his cock leak precome, pink at the tip and so cute, jungkook’s hips jerking desperately—

 

“please,” jungkook gasps, “please, need— need your cock, please—”

 

jimin doesn’t have anything to say to that, just shifts forward and fucks against the couch, drags his cock against it and groans, reaches up to lick at the tip of jungkook’s cock, suckle at it— feels his own orgasm building, the heavy grind of his hips to the cushion and just— 

 

watching. marveling at it, jungkook a complete mess under him, losing himself completely. 

 

it’s so fucking good, and jimin is hazy with it, head spinning as he watches jungkook take it, babble filthy shit about needing a cock inside him, feeling empty, needing jimin inside him— 

 

he comes like that, hips stuttering against the couch and fingers fucking mindlessly into jungkook, eyes locked on the boy under him, still a stuttering, whining mess. 

 

breathes hard, head buzzing with it— 

 

“please,” jungkook is whining, shoving his hips down, “need more, please— wanna— wanna feel you, please—”

 

jimin dips his head down, swallows jungkook down whole— hums around his cock— it’s not really a stretch, the tip brushing the back of his throat as he hollows out his cheeks—  

 

“ fuck, ” jungkook gasps, and comes. jimin pulls off as he does, watches the come splatter across his stomach, watches jungkook make a mess of himself. fingers still pumping absently. 

 

staring. he stares, drinks it all in— 

 

jungkook’s bun messy now, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks painted pretty velvet red and mouth parted, waiting— tongue lolling out, chest heaving. still riding the high of his orgasm. coming hard, cock spurting come as jimin reaches up to stroke him through it, listen in complete awe to broken whimpers, his breathy moans. 

 

his legs spread and straining hard at the fabric of his boxers, tearing the seams with how wide he spreads, how bad he wants it. head tipped back, stomach fluttering. 

 

“shit,” jungkook gasps, “shit, don’t— stay inside, please— want— don’t want—”

 

“got you,” jimin murmurs, dipping down to kiss him again, fingers shoved deep inside him, “got you, baby, don’t worry. you’re good, you did so well.”

 

“fuck,” jungkook breathes, kissing back eagerly, licking into his mouth and reaching with trembling hands to grab for his jaw, his neck, pull him down. “fuck, hyung— hyung, let me— you too—”

 

“came,” jimin tells him, “i’m good, don’t worry—”

 

“you— what,” jungkook asks, breathless. “what?”

 

“told you it got me off,” jimin smiles, dipping down to mouth at his jaw, “came watching you, baby. wish i could take a picture, or s’methin’. so fuckin’ pretty.”

 

“fuck,” jungkook breathes, “really? hyung, let me see—”

 

jimin chuckles. “can i pull out, then? ‘m still—”

 

“yeah, fuck, just let me—” jungkook grabbing for him, breathless, “you really came? just from that?” 

 

jimin wrinkles his nose, pulls out. “what d’you mean, just. ”

 

jungkook laughs, weak, tugs at his shirt. “show me, hyung, show me—”

 

“right,” jimin mumbles, straightening up to straddle jungkook’s thighs, pull down his sweats until jungkook can see the mess in his boxers. 

 

jimin lets him stare, at the sticky come staining the fabric, slick down his cock. watches jungkook’s eyes rake hungrily over it, curious, drinking it in. 

 

“had enough?”

 

“want you inside me,” jungkook tells him, breathless. jimin clenches his jaw, swallows hard. jungkook knows what he wants, and he’s very obvious about it. always has been. “want it so bad, hyung—”

 

“it’s late,” jimin reasons, letting his boxers snap back up again. “it’s really late and you have class in the morning, sweetheart, you can’t—”

 

“please,” jungkook pouts.

 

jimin chuckles, a little. ducks down, kisses him. he keeps indulging, he keeps doing this, letting himself have these things. 

 

it’s not good for him, but he keeps doing it anyway. 

 

jungkook kissing him still a little disoriented but eager, always eager, tongue dragging against his bottom lip, asking for more. jimin pulls away, squeezes his hip. 

 

“let’s clean you up,” he says, “and then get you to bed. okay?”

 

jungkook scrunches up his nose. “fine.”

 

jimin sighs, pulls back. rakes his eyes over jungkook again, his shirt hiked up high and the come splattering up his stomach, cock soft and spent against his thigh— the tears at the seams of his boxers, with how much he pushed his legs apart, how well he took jimin’s fingers. 

 

jimin blinks hard. he’s still reveling in it— this is all new, they’ve always had to be a little quiet, always had to be careful. too many clothes. but now, this— jungkook’s bare stomach, bare thighs. 

 

“you’re so pretty,” jimin breathes, eyes drifting to jungkook’s neck, tattered in marks. slick, pink, covered in new ones too. “so pretty, baby.”

 

“sweetheart,” jungkook says, quiet. “you called me sweetheart.”

 

“so pretty, sweetheart,” jimin tells him softly, leaning down to tug at his boxers, pull them down properly. “let’s get you to the bathroom, yeah? shit.”

 

jungkook laughs weakly, something that isn’t really a laugh and is more just to make noise, break the silence. jimin squeezes his thighs, and reaches up to pull the shirt over his shoulders too. 

 

“don’t wanna get this dirty,” he hums, tossing it aside. “stand for me, pretty.”

 

jungkook naked, completely bare on the couch, and jimin drinks it in. tries not to stare but stares anyway, as his muscles stretch, shift, as he sits and the come slides down his stomach— as he stands, legs shaking a little. 

 

jimin gets up too, reaches for his waist and squeezes. 

 

“pretty,” he murmurs. can’t help himself. “let’s go, baby.”

 

he leads jungkook to the shower, sinks to his knees and starts the water— doesn’t really mind his clothes getting a little wet, since they’re going to have to go in the wash anyway— and cleans him up. washes his stomach, his cock, his thighs. 

 

jungkook with his eyes closed and cheeks red with a fluster, shy. he keeps trying to nudge his thighs together, hands jumping at his sides like he wants to cover up. 

 

jimin is vaguely aware of the fact that he’s only seen jungkook naked one other time, and that was by accident— when they all went to the pool and he caught jungkook stepping out of the showers. 

 

but nothing like this— jimin’s hands rubbing over his thighs, his calves. knees wet in the shower as he crouches just out of range of the showerhead. he can see jungkook’s cock chubbing up between his legs again, obvious now, tip pink and angry and sensitive. 

 

just from jimin’s hands, smoothing over his skin. just jimin’s touch, gentle, rubbing slow circles into his hip, stomach. 

 

“this is embarrassing,” jungkook mumbles quietly, words nearly lost to the rush of the shower. 

 

“it’s not,” jimin hums, squeezing his thighs. “i promise you it’s not embarrassing, gguk-ah. want me to jerk you off?”

 

it’s easier this way. to bring sex here, too, instead of the quiet intimacy— the shower running, jimin scrubbing him clean. the smell of soap.

 

“don’t even know if i’ll come,” jungkook admits quietly. 

 

“‘s fine,” jimin hums, reaching up to wrap a hand around him, jerk him off easy, thoughtless, as he places wet kisses to jungkook’s thighs, hips. “just wanna make you feel good.”

 

“shit, hyung,” jungkook breathes, “shit—”

 

jimin just watches, watches again. jungkook’s hips stuttering forward, fucking into his hand, how his knees almost buckle before he catches himself. 

 

jimin thinks he might never get tired of this— jungkook with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, hair tangled and sticky and everything about him screaming sex.

 

“so, so pretty, sweetheart,” jimin breathes, low enough that he wonders if jungkook can hear it at all. he does, though, because he cries out and then comes like that— with sweetheart on the tip of jimin’s tongue, cock spilling over his hand. 

 

“so good,” jimin purrs, pumping him through it. “love jerking off your little cock, baby, did so well—”

 

“shit,” jungkook sighs, and then sinks to the floor. jimin laughs, wraps hands around his waist as he falls and catches him, eases him down until he sits with his ass to the tile, legs flopping out. jimin shifts forward until the water is wetting part of his bangs, cups jungkook’s chin. tips his head up. 

 

this is new, too. the looking. how they stare, open. 

 

jimin feels it right in his chest, the way jungkook looks at him like this. the trust between them, how he’s gone, how he knows— knows, that jimin will take care of him. how he lets himself go, because he knows he’s safe.

 

“pretty,” jimin murmurs, eyes raking over jungkook, fucked-out, hazy. “tired, baby?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook mumbles, yawning. “yeah, fuck. like it when you call me baby.”

 

jimin smiles. “i know. let’s get you to bed, okay?”

 

jungkook nods, helpless, and jimin gathers him up. towels him off, leaves soft kisses to whatever skin he’s closest to— hip, bicep, stomach. jungkook yawning, humming softly. 

 

the soft drip of the showerhead, the steam hanging low in the air. jungkook leaning into his touch every time he gets close. the bathroom smells so, so good, it reeks of jungkook’s 3-in-1 shampoo, and jimin’s head spins with it. 

 

this, too. this is new.

 

the closeness of it. 

 

running the towel over jungkook’s skin, steadying him with a hand to his bare shoulder as he wipes over his chest, stomach. 

 

it feels weird and not weird at the same time, how jimin is fully clothed and jungkook is standing there naked. 

 

somehow jimin feels naked too. 

 

the drip-drip of the shower, jungkook’s skin smooth and soft under his fingers. his quiet hums, content. jimin can hear him breathing. he can hear everything.

 

the steam sticks to his neck, his forehead. 

 

jungkook reaches up, tugs at his shirt. jimin looks up at him immediately, attentive, and jungkook smiles. leans over, eyes sliding closed, and kisses him. 

 

jimin sits there like an idiot, as jungkook leaves a soft kiss to his lips before he pulls back. 

 

“what,” jimin murmurs. 

 

jungkook’s eyes are still closed, and he tugs at jimin’s shirt again. 

 

“thank you.”

 

danger, danger, danger.  

 

it’s hitting him now, that they’re in the thick of it. that moment, when they could still step back, when they could still say this is too much. when jimin could feel them get close, could feel them get too much. they’re in the thick of it.

 

close close close. breathless. 

 

danger.

 

something’s shifted. 

 

the way jimin touches, holds, cares. he knows more, has more. jungkook has given him more. 

 

has given him this— given himself tired and sleepy and open, in the late-night and steam of his bathroom. 

 

has given jimin three kisses— hungry, aching, thank-you.  

 

danger, danger. 

 

“of course,” jimin murmurs. chokes. it chokes him, when he adds, in a whisper, “anything.”

 

anything. 

 

he would.

 

anything.

 

danger, danger, danger.

 

they shuffle around in the darkness of jungkook’s bedroom for a while. jungkook stays close, hand clinging to the back of jimin’s shirt as he leads them around, grabs jungkook a pair of boxers and a shirt. ruffles his hair and puts him to bed.

 

“sleep well,” jimin murmurs, patting his chest. “you set an alarm, right?”

 

“mm,” jungkook hums. “aren’t you— coming here?”

 

jimin blinks. jungkook shuffling under the covers, making room. jimin stares— he was expecting to take the couch. 

 

he always takes the couch, when he stays over. usually because they lost track of time watching a show, cooking a midnight snack. jungkook always grabbed blankets for him from the linen closet, set them on the couch, and told him what’s mine is yours.  

 

“i—” jimin swallows hard. “i need to clean up too, sweetheart, just let me—”

 

“okay,” jungkook huffs, rolling onto his side. “come back quick.”

 

jimin takes a shaky breath— allows himself a lovesick second to watch jungkook sigh, get comfortable, before he pads back to the bathroom to strip and rinse off, too. grabs his toothbrush and ignores the way it aches, when he sets it next to jungkook’s.

 

oh, it aches. he wants so much.

 

he wants a life with jungkook. one that extends past college, past dance teams. 

 

jimin takes a slow, slow breath. lets his head spin with it, and then takes his toothbrush and moves it to the other side of the sink. 

 

when he steps back into jungkook’s bedroom, jimin is suddenly aware of how bad it is. this end they’re careening towards, the mess they’ve made. the mess he’s made. 

 

they’re too close. they’re going to be too close, when he climbs into bed with jungkook pressed against him, still smelling warm from his shower, and calls him sweetheart.  

 

danger, danger. 

 

“hyung,” jungkook complains. “heard you come in, are you jus’ g’na watch me sleep, or—”

 

jimin laughs. 

 

he’s torn. between insisting on the couch ( dangerdangerdanger chants in his chest)— and knowing jungkook likes to be held and likes to hold, after sex. torn, torn. 

 

self-preservation, or jungkook.

 

(it’s always jungkook.)

 

he climbs into bed with him. lets jungkook nuzzle close and wrap arms tight around him. bare skin over bare skin, still overheating a little. jungkook grumbles, kicks off the blankets until they rest over his hip and slings a leg over jimin. 

 

“comfy,” he hums, and jimin laughs, strained. “comfy hyung.”

 

“go to sleep, sweetie,” jimin hums, letting his eyes slide closed. he’s so tired. 

 

he’s so, so tired. of holding back, of pretending everything he feels is something to be tamped down, something he can tamp down. of pretending it doesn’t burst from him, every single fucking minute of every day. 

 

he sighs. wraps an arm around jungkook’s shoulders, and then reaches up to cup his chin, kiss him. 

 

something greedy. for himself. 

 

just to feel jungkook’s lips to his, to share a moment like this and let his stupid, stupid mind delude itself into something more.

 

he keeps taking and taking and taking.

 

it feels sick. feels ugly, indulging himself like this— pretending they’re more than they are, pretending jungkook is his. that they do this every night, that he lives here, that jungkook will kiss him when they wake up, too. 

 

“go to sleep,” jimin repeats. a whisper. it hurts so, so much.

 

“‘mkay,” jungkook sighs, nosing into jimin’s neck. 

 

jimin swallows hard, and hopes jungkook can’t feel the speeding of his heart, like this. he feels sated, feels tired and boneless— but it still hurts, when jungkook holds him like this. the hand resting light over his chest, clinging needy to his shirt. something toddler-like, jungkook humming against him as he drifts off to sleep.

 

jungkook’s hands twisting tight in his heartstrings— it hurts good and bad at the same time. having jungkook close like this, seeing him like this. holding him, touching him, kissing him. good and bad, both. 

 

jungkook is confusing, jimin thinks.

 

he hurts but he doesn’t, he’s painful and so, so sweet at the same time. 

 

when jungkook’s breathing evens out, when the hand in his shirt goes slack and jungkook shifts sleepily, rolls over a little— jimin quietly and carefully unwraps the arms from his waist, climbs out of bed. 

 

he leans over— allows himself this. that ugly, lovesick part of himself that aches for it. leaves a lingering kiss to jungkook’s forehead, another to his temple. 

 

jungkook is fast asleep. he doesn’t shift as jimin pads around, gathers up a hoodie from the corner and buries his face in it, throat squeezing tight. it hurts but it doesn’t. he slips it on, jungkook’s stupid 3-in-1 shampoo drowning him, and he leaves the bedroom.

 

it’s late.

 

jungkook’s apartment creaks, the faint honk of cars a street over. the floor bends under his feet as he walks. it’s so familiar, he’s been here a thousand times.

 

he wants to keep being here. wants to belong here. greedy, greedy.

 

he cleans up the bulgogi they left behind, does the dishes as quietly as he can. it’s late. really late. jimin is scared to even look at the clock. he yawns, rubs at his eyes and moves sleepy through the kitchen, flicks off the lights in the common area one by one. 

 

it’s always been jungkook grabbing it for him, but tonight he grabs his own blanket from the linen closet— winces, when the hinges creak loudly, but after he stays quiet and tense for a bit and jungkook doesn’t wake, he tiptoes back to the couch and makes his bed, sinks into the cushions. 

 

the couch still reeks of sex, of jungkook. of heat and dark and jungkook’s sweet, sweet 3-in-1 shampoo. jimin sighs, closes his eyes. 

 

he thinks he might be really, really fucked. whatever happened tonight— what jungkook gave him, what more of himself jungkook gave him— he’s really, really fucked.

 

that mess in his heart, the tangle of strings, twisted— it just keeps getting worse.

 

he has no idea what’s going to happen when he wakes up in the morning.

he wakes up and there are arms around him.

 

a heavy warmth pressed to his back, a leg hooked over his hips, and soft fluttery breaths on the back of his neck. 

 

jungkook has somehow managed to fit himself in the space between jimin’s back and the couch, shoved himself there and fallen asleep, arm hooked under jimin’s neck and the other fisted loosely in his shirt, resting over his waist. 

 

jimin blinks. 

 

imagines— jungkook waking up alone, disoriented, confused. looking for jimin, shuffling blearily through the apartment to sink down onto the couch with him, fall back asleep.

 

jimin feels bad, all of a sudden. leaving jungkook like that, knowing the way he likes to cling. 

 

of course jungkook came and found him, of course he did. jungkook knows what he wants, he’s obvious, he’ll ask. in this case— he just did. didn’t wake jimin to ask him why did you leave, just clambered over him, grabbed him, held him close. just did it. 

 

“hyung.”

 

jimin startles, goes tense— a laugh puffed against his neck, arms tightening around him.

 

“boo,” jungkook giggles.

 

love is so fucking painful.

 

“i didn’t know you were awake,” jimin chuckles, rolling back a little to press himself to jungkook’s chest, turn to try and catch a glimpse. jungkook keeps him there, though, stops him from rolling over and huffs out a sigh. 

 

“do you just really like my couch, or something,” jungkook asks, voice still rough with sleep, breaking at the end with overuse from last night.

 

jimin laughs weakly. he has no idea what to say besides, what— i keep taking from you, i want too much, i want too much— what, exactly. 

 

jungkook pats his stomach, nose digging into jimin’s neck. “hyung, can i—” jungkook yawns, chest swelling against jimin’s back before he sighs, squeezes him close. “can i talk to you?”

 

“mm,” jimin hums, nodding. he’s still waking up, a little. 

 

“i wish we hadn’t had sex last night,” jungkook starts, and jimin freezes. panics, because did jungkook not want to? fuck, did he just— start saying filthy shit, did he even— “hyung, relax,” jungkook laughs, squeezing him again.

 

“did—” jimin winces, at how his voice cracks. “i’m sorry, did— did you not want to? i should’ve—”

 

“relax, i wanted to,” jungkook chuckles, “no, this is— sorry, should’ve specified. i wanted it, but. i wanted to tell you about my day more. i feel like we’re barely even friends anymore.”

 

jimin blinks hard. right. right, fuck. 

 

too much. he wants too much too much too much, he just keeps taking and taking and jungkook is so kind, he gives and gives whenever jimin asks. but, god. jimin knew it was a mistake, knows it still is one, but he can’t stop.

 

he takes a shaky breath.

 

“tell me about it now.” he reaches up, pats at jungkook’s hand resting over his stomach. “what time ‘s it, is it late—?”

 

“no,” jungkook hums. “no, i’ve got like, an hour before class.”

 

jimin raises an eyebrow, cranes his neck again to try and look at him. “what time is it. did you wake me up to tell me about your day?”

 

jungkook laughs. “you woke up by yourself, hyung,” he insists. jimin likes when jungkook laughs like this, when he can feel the shake of his ribcage against his own, like jungkook is laughing for him, too. “it’s like, a little bit before 8.”

 

“oh my god,” jimin groans, digging his cheek into the cushion. jungkook’s hand is dangling off the couch, fingers twitching, arm trapped under jimin’s neck. “okay, tell me about your day.”

 

“it’s not the same,” jungkook pouts. “i feel better now.”

 

jimin smiles, a little. “because i came over or because you slept?”

 

he can feel jungkook wrinkle his nose, scrunched up against the back of his neck. “both. i’m not saying the sex didn’t help but i miss like, watching movies with you.”

 

jimin chuckles. it hurts so bad. “i miss that too. i’ll come back here after class, we can watch a movie then, yeah?”

 

“okay,” jungkook hums, content, and leaves a kiss to jimin’s neck. jimin closes his eyes. 

 

jungkook knows what he wants, and if he wants, he’ll ask. he’ll be obvious. and what he wants— is friends.  

 

jimin sighs, closes his eyes. jungkook has to get up soon but he can let himself enjoy this, a little. bodies pressed together chest to hip, jungkook’s lips brushing light over his skin. 

 

“is there a reason you won’t fuck me?”

 

jimin coughs on nothing, brings a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes watering. “ jesus, you can’t just say that—”

 

“i can,” jungkook giggles, “i’m curious, is there seriously a reason? i know you want to, so why—”

 

“can we talk about this later,” jimin complains, heart racing, “it’s too early and we went to bed too late, and you have to get ready for class.”

 

“i wanna know,” jungkook whines, rocking them back and forth, squeezing a leg around his hips. “is it some weird, like, performance anxiety thing—”

 

“performance anxiety?” jimin laughs. he’s nervous. he’s terribly nervous. he needs to find a way out of this, because the real answer— toomuchtoomuchtoomuch, i’d have to tell you everything— can’t ever come out. “i don’t have performance anxiety.”

 

“are you worried about STDs or something,” jungkook grins, “because i think we’re past that.”

 

jimin snorts. “i’m not worried about getting diseases from you, no,” he says. it feels surreal, having jungkook ask him these questions, laughing, holding him like this. “aren’t you gonna get up, get dressed?”

 

“no,” jungkook giggles, “no, i don’t want to, i’ll become part of the fucking couch if i have to—”

 

jimin laughs. jungkook can always make him laugh, even if his insides are crumbling to pieces, the strings in his heart tangling into a mess. 

 

“do you want coffee,” jimin offers. maybe change the subject? but, ah, jungkook isn’t that dumb, he knows— 

 

“why won’t you fuck me,” he insists again, grinning. “i mean like, i get that it’s difficult in the practice rooms, but i wanted you to fuck me last night. you could've.”

 

jimin wrinkles his nose. “it’s too early for this.”

 

“is there ever a right time,” jungkook asks, rocking them again, disgruntled. jimin doesn’t know what to say to that. 

 

his entire body breathes, swells with it— too much. he’s so fucking greedy, he has all of this— jungkook holding him tight, kissing his neck, laughing in his ear— and it’s still not enough. 

 

he has jungkookjungkookjungkook branded to his skin, to his tongue, has the stupid 3-in-1 shampoo clinging to him and drenching him in sweet, sweet— and he has so, so much of jungkook.

 

he has more of jungkook than anyone else, probably. he knows the most. he has the most. and still he asks for more.

 

jungkook sighs, noses into jimin’s neck again. quieter, “is it something with me?”

 

jimin swallows hard. jungkook quiet, quiet. shy. jimin hates it, hates hates hates it, because now jungkook feels bad and it’s not his fault. it’s never his fault, it’s always jimin’s. jungkook feels bad and jimin doesn’t want that, fuck does he not want that, but what the hell is he supposed to say, exactly. 

 

“i promise it’s not,” he says, patting at jungkook’s hand over his stomach. “nothing to do with you.”

 

“oh,” jungkook hums. “so then what is it? i keep trying to think of reasons why ‘n i can’t come up with one that makes sense.”

 

jimin chuckles. “what reasons have you come up with?”

 

“okay, well, apparently performance anxiety and STDs are out the window,” jungkook smiles. “my other ones were maybe, like, you didn’t want to hurt me?”

 

“hurt you?”

 

“yeah, like, getting rough or something,” jungkook shrugs. “but you’re always very careful, i dunno. i know you wouldn’t, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“i’m not,” jimin says softly.

 

“okay,” jungkook sighs, “and the other one is like, maybe you’ll fuck me and be like damn, this guy is so good i can’t ever fuck someone else again. and then it’ll be so embarrassing, hyung, we’ll have to get married or something just so you can fuck me till you die—”

 

jimin barks out a laugh, something loud and surprised, shoulders shaking before he muffles it into the couch. “gguk,” he wheezes, “what the fuck—”

 

“i’m just saying, ” jungkook huffs, “i’ve been told i’m like, very good, so you know—”

 

“right,” jimin giggles, “right, i’m sure. what are your other reasons, these are pretty funny—”

 

“fuck off,” jungkook grumbles. “that’s like, most of them. the other ones don’t make sense, like, maybe you have a weird looking dick? but i know you don’t. or like, i dunno.”

 

jungkook sighs, shifts against him.

 

“the only other reason i can think of is if like, if you liked me then it would be weird, i guess.”

 

jimin blinks. “if i liked you?”

 

“not like,” jungkook laughs, “as a friend, sorry. obviously we like each other.”

 

“right,” jimin says. it would be weird.

 

jungkook shifts against him again, presses them closer, and jimin can feel the pout against his neck. “what i meant was like, if either one of us caught feelings— like if you were in love with me, or something, obviously that would make things complicated.” 

 

jimin chokes. what a great way to start his morning.

 

“good thing you’re not,” jungkook chuckles, and pats his stomach.

 

wow, okay. fun thing to hear after a night like that, being held like this. jungkook has a way of doing that— of holding him so gentle, laughing in his ear, and tearing his heartstrings right from his chest.

 

“yeah,” he agrees, strained, “good thing i’m not.”

 

“so which one is it,” jungkook smiles. jimin feels the smile against his neck and god he wants to leave. he wants to get out, leave , run home and call seokjin, call taehyung. cry, probably. 

 

hearing it. he knew very well that jungkook didn’t feel the same. 

 

but it’s that desperate ache, those ugly lovesick parts of himself that are so, so tired— that still hope. it’s a horrible thing, and he can’t even control it. how he hopes, despite it all. but, ah. hearing it. 

 

jimin swallows hard, clears his throat. 

 

jungkook has no idea. he has no fucking clue, and jimin has to do this alone alone alone.

 

“it would be too good,” jimin tells him, tries to laugh, “wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else, gguk, sorry—”

 

jungkook laughs, squeezes him around the middle. jimin takes a sharp breath and doesn’t bother trying to smile. jungkook’s arm pulling him close around the middle, his lingering smile against the back of his neck.

 

and then— jungkook leaves a kiss to his shoulder. 

 

“tell me when you’re ready.”

 

jimin’s heart squeezes so painfully that he’s glad jungkook is spooning him this way, because then he can’t see the tears that swell in jimin’s eyes— fuck, it’s unfair. 

 

the way jungkook cares, takes his time, holds jimin gentle. this soft, soft love. that he gives. and how jimin— jimin has decided it’s not enough. has decided he wants more. greedy, greedy.

 

“thanks,” he murmurs, because it’s all he can say. “you should get ready, right?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook sighs. “but you’re comfortable.”

 

“mm, i’ve been told,” jimin smiles. he reaches up to rub at his eyes, wipe away the tears so jungkook won’t see. pretends he’s very sleepy, and yawns, and wipes away the tears. 

 

jungkook takes a breath and then squeezes him tight tight tight, digs his nose into the crook of jimin’s neck. leaves a kiss there, soft. it feels like comfort. feels like jungkook’s soft soft love, the way he holds. 

 

jimin wonders if somehow he knows. 

 

jungkook leaves soft kisses up his neck, the warmth of lips, simple. slow, easy. just to touch, to feel skin to skin. jimin sighs, eyes sliding closed again. 

 

“hyung,” jungkook murmurs. quiet, shy. 

 

jimin waits for more, and then jungkook just— stays silent. 

 

“hm?” he hums, patting at jungkook’s hand, still resting warm over his stomach. “what is it?”

 

“can i, um,” jungkook’s fluttery breaths over his neck. they were chaste kisses but jungkook’s breath still ghosts a little chilly over the wet spots he left, saliva. “if it’s okay, can i— leave marks?”

 

jimin blinks. “what?”

 

“like,” jungkook’s voice, quieter, “hickeys. i just, um—”

 

jimin frowns, confused. jungkook wants to leave marks now? jimin’s always been the one mouthing at his skin, leaving his desperations there instead of saying them out loud. 

 

“what, yeah— yeah, ‘course you can.”

 

“really?” jungkook asks, still shy. “just cause— you said you didn’t like them, so i thought—”

 

jimin’s frown deepens. is this why jungkook hasn’t been marking him up the whole time?

 

“when did i say that?” jimin asks, “i like them a lot, sweetheart, mark me up whenever you want.”

 

“oh,” jungkook murmurs. 

 

a quiet moment, when jimin feels jungkook shift, absorb the new information— take a breath, let it out slow, and then there’s a mouth on his neck again, jungkook shifting to reach the more sensitive skin by his throat. 

 

jimin rolls back, lets him adjust until it’s jungkook borderline in his lap, leg slung over him as he dips down, mouths wetly over jimin’s neck. 

 

jimin smiles, a little, when it’s been a few minutes and all jungkook has done is sort of— suck tentatively, nip at the skin, and then pull back to look. lean in again, leave soft kisses to the pink marks he left, not quite purpling— 

 

“baby,” jimin says, “you know how to give a hickey, right?”

 

jungkook stills. jimin waits, waits, smiling. he gets the feeling the answer is no, probably— and then it’s confirmed when jungkook grumbles and buries his face into jimin’s neck. jimin laughs, brings a hand up to card through his hair, pat the back of his neck.

 

“it’s easy,” jimin chuckles, “i’ve done it to you a million times. you were doing well, just have to keep sucking. try and do what i do, yeah? you remember?”

 

“okay,” jungkook mumbles, pulling back again. ducks down and mouths over the skin, sucks it into his mouth and hums, low, in a way that has jimin thinking he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. 

 

it’s better. jungkook sort of always catches on quick, and of course he catches on quick here, too. 

 

“yeah,” jimin sighs, at the pressure, the drag of jungkook’s tongue, “yeah, just like that.”

 

“hyung likes them?” jungkook asks, ducking down to suck another hickey to the sensitive skin on his throat. 

 

a little shy, still, how he nips at the skin and then pulls it into his mouth, latches his tongue over it and sucks— listens for jimin’s soft sighs, his hips pushing up off the couch.

 

jungkook keeps working over his throat like that— jimin’s eyes sliding closed, hand reaching up to sink into his hair as jungkook buries his nose into jimin’s neck, marks him up like he’s been waiting for this, too. 

 

jungkook mouthing over a mark he left, purpling and sensitive— closes his lips over it again.

 

jimin shifts under him, breaths catching as jungkook licks, sucks, teeth dragging over the mark until jimin just— whimpers. 

 

a soft, half-broken sound, mouth parting. 

 

they both freeze, and then jungkook pulls back to look up at him. pupils blown dark, wide. 

 

“you— you were serious,” jungkook breathes. “you like them?”

 

jimin stares back.

 

“i do,” he murmurs. he swears jungkook’s eye twitches. 

 

“can i kiss you,” jungkook asks, rough, “can you do that— when i kiss you—”

 

jimin laughs, “now you know how i feel,” he says, and pulls at jungkook’s shoulders, “it’s fucking hot, what did i tell you— yeah, kiss me—”

 

jungkook ducks down the second he has permission and cuts him off, sinks down hard enough that jimin doesn’t even mean to, but he whimpers again at jungkook’s lips bruising to his, the kiss deep and angry, furious the way jungkook tries to swallow him whole— 

 

“shit,” jimin gasps, “shit, gguk, you’ve got— class—”

 

“fuck my degree,” jungkook announces, and jimin laughs right into his mouth, jungkook grinning before he cuts him off again, sinks down and rolls his hips forward. jimin kicks under him, nudges his chest.

 

“really,” jimin insists, breathless, “don’t want you to be late, what time is it—”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose. “i have no idea. like, 8:30?”

 

jimin gapes. “ what, ” he hisses, pushing at his chest, “you ass, go get ready, oh my god, you have to go— ”

 

jungkook laughs, lets jimin manhandle him off the couch and curse him out, send him scurrying in giggles to the bathroom. 

 

jimin watches him go, grinning, neck stinging and sensitive still, jungkook’s morning breath lingering in his mouth and feeling very, very much like things are about to fall apart. 

 

it’s going to happen soon, he knows it will. 

 

jungkook can’t give and give, they can’t get this close, they keep making mistakes and it’s jimin’s fault. it’s his fault, greedy and asking moremoremore every chance he gets. taking. 

 

it can’t last. it’s going to fall apart, and he just has to be ready.

 

to lose this, to leave it behind, to hurt and then move on. he doesn’t want to. 

 

he might always love jungkook like this— the boy he picked up and brought out of his shell, the one that scrunches up his nose and shrugs his shoulders when he’s happy— the one that has entangled himself so much in jimin’s heartstrings that he couldn’t get out unless he ripped himself free. 

 

and when— when it falls apart, jimin worries he will. worries jungkook will tear angrily at those strings already pulled taught, pulled hurting, and rip himself free. 

 

that he’ll fall right out of jimin’s chest and take his heart with him.

 

in a way, it’s what jimin wants. for jungkook to take, to do something back. to feel something strong, even if it’s the wrong thing. fucking anything. 

 

just so jimin won’t be alone, like this. feeling so much. so much.

 

it’s going to hurt. it’s going to fucking hurt. 

jimin is worried.

 

he’s stressed, and very tired, and worried.

 

because he lost his job a few days ago— 

 

( “sorry,” winces yongguk, “we just— we have to let someone go. i really am sorry, but we’re— we’re losing business and i promise, jimin-ssi, we would keep you—”

 

“it’s fine,” jimin assures him quietly, even though it’s anything but fine. 

 

he knows this is a family business, knows full well they’ve been trying their hardest to keep paying all the staff. but sometimes, sometimes things just fall apart.

 

“alright,” sighs yongguk, running a hand over his face before he looks back, frowns at the empty restaurant. “um. if business starts looking up again, i promise i’ll keep a spot open for you.”

 

jimin smiles. he’s breaking. he’s breaking. “thank you.” )

 

— and now he worries he’s not going to make rent this month.

 

it’s a delicate balance, honestly. making enough on tips, spending just the right amount to keep his head above water. the necessities, a few streaming services, a couple nights out. smiling like an idiot and bowing deep at every customer, coming home pockets a little more full.

 

but, ah. without the job— he’s going to have to figure things out, and fast. 

 

he spends a couple nights poring over his finances, hunched over the coffee table. going back and forth with the landlord (who is honestly, an asshole for no reason), and sifting through his bills, figuring out where in his budget he can cut corners.

 

he starts sending out job applications immediately but no one’s biting, and at some point jimin just— has a cry.

 

a really good one, honestly. just lies back on his couch and sobs, for a while. he’s so fucking stressed, feels the worry thrumming through him as he falls asleep— rent looms above him and he worries he’ll have to skip lunches, pick up odd jobs. 

 

he knows if he called home his mother would send him money in an instant, but he can’t do that to her. so he squeezes his eyes shut and just sort of— crumples. 

 

lets himself break a little, because he thinks he needs it. 

 

thread > gguk

gguk 11:21 pm

> hi :3

> wanna watch a movie? i can come over

 

jimin is still sobbing when his phone buzzes, when he picks it up and wipes messily at his eyes, blinks hard to read the message. 

 

god. god, fuck. it’s exactly what he needs and doesn’t need, at the same time.

 

jm

> not tonight, sorry

 

gguk

> aw ok

> smth up?

 

jimin takes a breath. friends, right? friends. he’ll be fine.

 

jm

> lost my job on monday

> im just trying to figure things out, so i’ll be busy for a while, sorry

 

gguk

> what??

> they let you go??? i thought yongguk was like, your bestie

 

jimin laughs despite himself. 

 

fucking jungkook. fucking jungkook. that asshole. jimin loves him so much.

 

jm

> he was!!!

> but they havent been doing well for a while, so its just

> it had to be done

> its not anybodys fault, im just um. kind of fucked now

 

gguk

> :(

> is there anything i can do? 

> how fucked are you

 

jm

> like, pretty fucked

> i’ll be fine

 

gguk

> those two statements dont go together hyung

> are you fucked or fine

 

jm

> lmao

> i’m fucked now but i will BE fine

 

gguk

> … right

> what do you need?

 

jm

> what do i need?

 

gguk

> yeah

> do you want me to help you look for jobs? or like, idk. maybe namjoon or seokjin are better for budget stuff but i can help you figure it out

 

jimin sobs again. he can’t, he can’t— jungkook is jungkook, and it hurts every time. 

 

they’re heading towards an end, he can see it, and it’s going to fucking hurt. hurt hurt hurt, when jungkook tells him we’re too close, tells him stop taking from me.  

 

when jimin finally, finally, stops pretending like he isn’t hurting with it every day. the size of it, the swell of it. 

 

i love you.

 

jm

> i love you

 

gguk

> :)

> i love you too hyung

 

it just hurts. there’s really no way around it. jimin swears he feels it in his chest, feels jungkook’s hands reaching in and tearing recklessly at his heartstrings, grabbing and pulling and ripping him apart. 

 

he wants jungkook to take, but god does it hurt anyway. 

 

i love you too. it feels like a fucking mockery. like he’s being made fun of. i love you too.

 

gguk

> so have you started applying for jobs yet?

> im assuming you have, cause youre you

> i might know people who know people, n of course you can ask everyone else too

> we’ll figure it out, hyung

 

we.

 

jimin tosses his phone to the side and puts his head in his hands. curls up on the couch, and cries. 

 

it’s everything, really. all of it spilling out at once, when he folds himself in two and sobs. 

 

he has no idea how long he stays there, but when he finally surfaces again, nose red and sniffling hard—

 

gguk

> jimin????

> ok im coming over

 

he blinks hard. 4 missed calls, and a string of increasingly worried texts from jungkook.

 

that’s the problem, too— jungkook has a habit of over-worrying, making leaps where there are none to make, but. but he’s usually right. he knows jimin, sees jimin, and he’s right.

 

jimin wants him here, as much as he fucking doesn’t. 

 

jm

> hey im ok

> you dont have to

 

gguk

> too bad

> im 5 mins away

 

jm

> dont text and drive??

 

gguk

> red light, idiot !!

 

jimin snorts. stands, and wipes at his eyes, his nose. takes a shaky breath, and sighs. spends a few minutes sort of just— organizing the mess of papers on his coffee table, sorting them and stacking them into piles. zoning out as he does, letting himself breathe a little. 

 

he’s in the bathroom washing his face, and almost misses the knock. 

 

“HYUNG,” comes jungkook’s voice, and jimin hits his head coming up from the sink. 

 

“YEAH,” he shouts back, and scrubs a towel over his face. mutters an ow and rubs at his head as he walks back out, pulls the door open. 

 

jungkook standing there, drowning in a hoodie, and the smell of his stupid 3-in-1 shampoo wafts over immediately. jimin blinks at him. he’s staring, for some reason, and jimin can’t figure out why until he leans forward, and runs a finger along jimin’s neck. 

 

“oh,” jimin mumbles, looking down like he’ll somehow be able to see them. the hickeys that haven’t faded quite yet. 

 

“um,” jungkook takes a breath, leans back. jimin looks at him again. it’s probably obvious he’s been crying, and even if it wasn’t jungkook somehow always knows anyway. “hug?”

 

jimin laughs, a little. nods, “sure.”

 

so he lets jungkook wrap him up in a hug, circle arms tight around his middle and squeeze. press them together, and hold. 

 

jimin sighs, closes his eyes. 

 

jungkook’s body against his. there’s so much there, so much he knows. but this is always the same. 

 

“d’you wanna talk about it now,” jungkook asks quietly. “we can do something else, too.”

 

jimin takes a slow breath. presses his face into jungkook’s shoulder, and thinks of nothing at all. 

 

it hurts all the time, and it hurts so much— but jimin would do this all over again. of course he would. 

 

for this, for jungkook holding him, reeking of 3-in-1 body wash, for jungkook to race here after jimin didn’t answer for, what, ten minutes? he’d do it all over again. for one moment. 

 

“jungkook,” he murmurs. the arms tight around him tighten further. jimin chuckles, a little. he knows he can’t say it, knows it would mean too much. so he just squeezes the i love you back, and sighs. “let’s do something else, yeah.”

 

they end up watching a movie. 

 

jungkook has been on a studio ghibli kick since they watched totoro and now jimin is draped over him on the couch, mindlessly watching castle in the sky. 

 

jungkook’s hand in his hair, jungkook’s arm sturdy and solid around his middle. jimin tries to memorize all of it. 

 

the way jungkook’s chest rises and falls, the way his fingers drum against jimin’s side, the way he sounds when he yawns. what the fabric of his hoodie feels like against jimin’s cheek, what he sounds like when he yawns this way. 

 

he tries to memorize it. before it happens— before he loses all this, because the tear of strings in his heart gets too much, because his greed and his ugly, ugly want takes him over. 

 

when he’s lovesick and takes and jungkook finally stops him. 

 

they’re getting too close. 

 

it’s all jimin wants, but it’s too close, and jungkook doesn’t want it. he’s obvious, he says it— it’s like we’re barely friends anymore. too close. 

 

“if i kissed you would you feel better?”

 

jimin blinks. for a very stupid second he thinks it’s part of the movie dialogue, but it’s jungkook’s voice and it came from right by his ear. he shifts, looks up at him. jungkook still watching the movie, fingers drumming against jimin’s side. 

 

“what?”

 

jungkook looks at him, raises an eyebrow in something that says— you heard me. jimin stares. 

 

it feels like a trick question.

 

“if you kissed me would i feel better,” jimin repeats. jungkook nods. “what?”

 

jungkook smiles, a little. goes a light pink, and blinks quick. “just, cause— i know that like, you kiss me before i go home, so i feel better. it’s a little different, but still.”

 

oh , jimin realizes. those goodbye kisses, the soft ones, the ones he savored. 

 

the ones he nearly forgot about, after everything jungkook gave him more of— that hungry kiss in the club, the one that ached outside the convenience store. the softer, softer thank you.

 

“yeah,” jimin murmurs. “sure, we can try it.”

 

jungkook smiles, full of teeth. “ try it? have a little more faith in me, hyung, really—”

 

jimin laughs, knocks his head into jungkook’s shoulder again. he can feel the way jungkook grins, amused, and squeezes him close. he takes a breath, bites back his giggle and looks at him again. 

 

“yeah?” jungkook asks. 

 

jimin stares at him. the movie flickering over jungkook’s skin, his eyes a little wide with his smile. 

 

he’s beautiful. jimin wants too too too much. 

 

“yeah,” he says softly. 

 

jungkook dips down, and kisses him. 

 

he thinks jungkook must be trying to imitate him, the way he leaves a soft kiss to jungkook’s lips before he pulls out of the parking lot— the way he lingers. 

 

jungkook lingering, too, when he fits their mouths together and then pushes forward, a little, hand squeezing around jimin’s waist. 

 

jimin wants this forever. 

 

this kiss, this night. jungkook. he wants it forever. 

 

jungkook pulls away, eyes flitting up to meet jimin’s again. something a little— frantic, in how he looks, how his eyes drop and then flick up again, linger. jimin lets him look. 

 

and then jungkook leans back in and tangles his hands in jimin’s heartstrings again, kisses him sweeter. longer. leans forward and close and kisses him aching again. 

 

jungkook pulling gently at his ribcage, prying him open, and reaching into his heart, curling his fingers around those painful red strings and pulling pulling pulling. 

 

jungkook’s hand coming up, cupping his jaw, the movie forgotten in the background. jimin’s breaths shallow, caught in his throat as jungkook parts his mouth, and takes. takes, for once, tastes jimin slow and holds him when he tries to pull away. 

 

jimin’s head spins with it. 

 

jungkook kissing him slow and deep, hand cupping the back of his neck— how his breath shakes when he pulls away, brief, just to leave kisses to the corner of jimin’s mouth, to his cupid’s bow, before he slots their mouths together again.

 

the palm warm around his jaw, the other curled tight around his waist, warm against his skin, jungkook— jungkook kissing him soft, gentle, but taking.  

 

jimin lets him, of course he does, lets jungkook take and take— lets him reach down his throat and find place in his heart, settle comfortable.

 

it doesn’t hurt. for a moment, for this moment— it doesn’t hurt. 

 

jungkook kissing him like he’s precious. 

 

it doesn’t hurt, in this moment. 

 

jimin forgets where they are. it’s just jungkook, jungkook, jungkook. his hands, his lips. 

 

how he shifts forward, pushes them back, leans jimin down gentle and then crawls over him, straddles him into the couch and presses them together, refuses to break the kiss.

 

they stay there for a while.

 

a while. jimin forgets everything else— just jungkook’s lips warm against him, swollen. 

 

he tastes like mint, like toothpaste that’s faded, like coffee. jungkook’s hands resting over his sides, palms warm to his skin, touching just because. 

 

kissing slow, steady. lazy. it’s all unhurried. 

 

jungkook is taking his time. savoring it too. 

 

jimin lets himself pretend. pretends you’re mine, pretends i love you too, pretends. kisses jungkook with his ribcage pried open and those hands buried in his heart, lets it spill out of him because it’s so tiring holding it back.

 

and jungkook— jungkook shakes with it, keeps taking and then takes more. 

 

jimin does feel better, but this is for jungkook. this slow, slow kiss is for jungkook. 

 

it’s jungkook wanting them close. jungkook wanting, for once. 

 

jimin is dizzy with it. 

 

his lips swollen, tingle with overuse— he and jungkook must taste the same, smell the same. he’s carved into the couch by now, jungkook’s body fitted permanent against his. 

 

he could stay here forever. 

 

when jungkook finally pulls away it’s to yawn. 

 

jimin feels it coming, how he pauses a little and then tries his best to hold it back— but eventually has to pull away, yawn. jimin chuckles, a little. opens his eyes slow, and god. god. jungkook’s lips swollen just like his, his hair tousled with jimin’s hands. 

 

“tired?” he asks. 

 

his voice is scratchy from what feels like hours of not talking. jungkook nods, sleepy. jimin bites back a smile, reaches up to cup jungkook’s face, pull him down and leave a kiss to his nose. 

 

“sleep.”

 

“don’t wanna,” jungkook complains. 

 

he opens his eyes and jimin is suddenly hit with it— danger. jungkook looking at him like that. looking just to look. taking in jimin beneath him, eyes lingering on his lips, his hair a mess against the couch. looking like jimin is precious, like he’s priceless.

 

it still doesn’t hurt.

 

for now, it still doesn’t hurt. not when jungkook kisses him like that, not when jungkook looks at him like that. 

 

jimin brushes a thumb over jungkook’s cheek, watches his eyes flutter closed. 

 

“you’re tired, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “come to bed with me.”

 

pretend, pretend. jimin in his doll house, pretending. but it doesn’t hurt, tonight, because jungkook fits in his heart— has his hands buried and settled deep, and it doesn’t hurt tonight. jimin tries to memorize it.

 

“okay,” jungkook sighs, leaning down to leave a peck to his lips, and then sink down against him. “okay.”

 

jimin chuckles, nudges at his side. “let’s go, then. this isn’t my bed.”

 

“mm,” jungkook hums, “i think it is.”

 

jimin snorts. nudges a little more insistently at his side, jungkook’s weight heavy on him. “c’mon, gguk, let’s— before i push you off the couch, yeah? let’s go.”

 

“you’re so mean to me,” jungkook complains, but he’s smiling when he pulls back, climbs off the couch and helps jimin clean up the bills and papers they didn’t even touch. 

 

he can feel jungkook eyeing him, worried, as he sets the bills down on the dining table, spends a moment frowning as he sifts through them again, just in case he missed something important. the hand on his shoulder, jungkook leaning down to look, too.

 

“how bad is it,” jungkook asks quietly.

 

jimin winces. “the job was really important,” he admits, staring at his electricity bill. “my landlord said— and he’s such an ass, i don’t know why he hates me— but my landlord said if i don’t make rent then i’m out.”

 

jungkook pauses. “you’re— out? ”

 

“mm,” jimin hums, setting the paper down. “i think it’s because he keeps moving in new tenants, and once i leave he can up the rent for this unit. profit, and whatnot.”

 

“wait, so—” jungkook shakes his head, “if you don’t make rent this month he’s kicking you out? ”

 

“mhm,” jimin hums. he sighs, pats the stack of bills. “i’ll have to cut corners, but yeah. bed?”

 

“jimin,” jungkook frowns. “can’t you— i dunno, talk to him? that doesn’t seem— is that allowed? ”

 

“it’s in the lease contract i signed,” jimin yawns, padding toward the bedroom, “so yes. if i don’t make rent i violate the contract, and i’m kicked out. it’s unfortunately very legal.”

 

“oh my god,” jungkook frowns deeper, following after him. “but— he can make like, exceptions, right? you’ve lived here since like— it’s been almost three years, he knows you.”

 

“he knows me,” jimin allows, pulling off his hoodie, “and he hates me.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose, disgruntled. “that’s not fair.”

 

“babe,” jimin sighs, “life isn’t fair.”

 

jungkook laughs. jimin smiles and climbs into bed. he feels boneless, right now. 

 

jungkook’s kiss still pressed warm and ghosting to his lips, jungkook’s body still pressing him into the couch. he sinks into the mattress, stretches out and yawns.

 

everything feels peaceful, right now.

 

jungkook shuffling around his bedroom, late, staying the night. his head still filled with jungkook’s sweet (and stupid) 3-in-1 body wash, his waist still warm with jungkook’s palms. 

 

jungkook has a way of doing that. 

 

of hurting so bad, so much— and of not hurting at all. 

 

“c’mon,” jimin sighs, patting the blankets. “‘m tired.”

 

“sorry, sorry,” jungkook chuckles, and clambers into bed. jimin sighs, pulls him close. 

 

allows himself to be greedy, allows himself to want. holds jungkook the way he wants to, leaves kisses to his forehead and nose and cheek, wraps arms around his middle and slings a leg over his. 

 

if they’re going to crash, if it’s going to end— jimin will enjoy this while he has it.

 

jungkook giggling, melting under the kisses peppered to his face, his ear, jaw, neck. jimin smiling, rolling them over and sinking down above him, pinning his hands down and leaving fluttery kisses to his forehead, eyelids, chin, cheeks. 

 

“hyung, i’m—” jungkook squirms, laughing, “tickles, it tickles—”

 

“does it,” jimin smiles, leans his weight forward. jungkook struggling to tear his wrists free, giggling like a maniac and trying to shrink away from jimin’s kisses even though there’s nowhere to go. 

 

jimin dipping down and pressing his grin to jungkook’s skin, leaving smiles to his neck, his jaw, his lips. kissing him smiling and a little sleepy, tasting jungkook’s laugh and wincing a little, at how his lips sting with it. 

 

“my mouth hurts,” jungkook complains, when jimin pulls away. 

 

“whose fault is that,” jimin laughs, but relents. releases him, and leans down to steal another, quicker. indulgent, now. 

 

jungkook smiling wide, hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him down.

 

“feeling better?”

 

jimin hums, nods. sinks his weight down, lays them front to front and presses his face to jungkook’s shoulder. jungkook’s hands sliding up his sides, down his back. easy, easy. 

 

it doesn’t hurt. jimin is starting to dread the moment it does.

 

“jimin,” jungkook murmurs. “i love you.”

 

ah, there it is. 

 

“and if you need anything, seriously,” jungkook continues, and it hurts, “just ask me. i’m here for you, we’re all here for you. okay? i know you hate asking for help but this is— this isn’t something you should do alone.”

 

jimin takes a shaky breath. he has allowances, here, he can cry if he wants to. jungkook doesn’t have to know what he’s crying about. 

 

soft, soft love. jungkook’s hands slipping under his shirt, soothing small circles into his back.

 

“like, really,” jungkook starts again, and jimin squeezes his eyes shut, “if you get kicked out and need somewhere to stay, you know you can stay with me. or seokjin-hyung, or tae, or anyone else. you have people.”

 

“i know,” jimin manages, voice thick. “thank you.”

 

“oh, love,” jungkook murmurs, arms sliding around his middle, squeezing tight. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

 

it’s so unfair. jimin loves this boy so, so much— and it’s unfair. but he can’t do anything about it. 

 

all he can do is sit, and wait, and watch it fall apart. 

 

“we can work on it in the morning,” jungkook tells him softly, “i can help you send out job applications, and you can— can work on your budget, meanwhile. maybe we can talk to the landlord? is there someone above him?”

 

“landlords suck,” jimin grumbles. jungkook laughs, short and surprised. “you don’t have to do this.”

 

“i want to,” jungkook says. it’s so simple. jimin hates this, he hates it. he loves jungkook so much. he hates this. “i want to, hyung. if you hurt then i hurt.”

 

jimin clenches his jaw. he wishes that were true. 

 

“okay,” jimin whispers. he’s so tired, again. “okay.”

 

jungkook sighs, slips his hands out from jimin’s shirt and then reaches up, cups his face and pulls him gently back until jimin can see jungkook worried in the dark, the moon seeping in through the curtains. looking at him precious, patient. 

 

jimin breathes, breathes. 

 

“you’re going to be okay,” jungkook tells him slowly. jimin’s breath chokes in his throat. “you’re going to be just fine, okay?”

 

jimin stares. there’s nothing else he can do. 

 

“i’ve got you.”

 

jungkook reaches up, swipes a thumb over jimin’s tears and then cranes his neck, kisses him soft. soft, soft love. 

 

“we’ve got you,” jungkook adds. an afterthought. 

 

jimin takes a deep breath, and keeps staring. jungkook is so patient. he’s so patient, he lets jimin stare and lets the i’ve got you hang in the air. the way he looks— i’ve got you.  

 

it glows off him, lights him up in the dark, his soft love. how he cares, how he believes it. believes it— you’re going to be okay. 

 

jimin trusts him. 

 

he’s going to be okay.

 

“jungkook,” jimin murmurs. soft, breathless. 

 

it’s the i love you he can’t say. 

 

jungkook seems to get it anyway. his fond smile, how he swipes his thumb gentle over jimin’s cheek even without a tear to wipe away. pulls jimin down again, lets their bodies fit together, and sighs out a slow, slow breath. 

 

“sleep,” jungkook murmurs. 

 

when jungkook’s hands slip under his shirt again, rub circles into his back— they’re trembling. 

 

jimin sleeps. 

jimin thinks he has a bad track record, with love.

 

first it was seokjin— jimin falling for him in freshman year, looking up at him wide-eyed, seokjinnie-hyung is so cool, and then being let down very gently. and now, jungkook. 

 

“what’re you gonna do,” seokjin asks. 

 

jimin wrinkles his nose. they’re at lunch, a little later than promised, but at lunch nevertheless. jimin knew he was coming here to talk about jungkook and losing his job but it’s not fun to talk about it anyway. 

 

“no idea,” he admits. “do you mean jungkook or my job?”

 

seokjin snorts. “either one, but i meant jungkook.”

 

“oh,” jimin hums, sighs. “i really don’t know. i can’t do anything about it, and it’s not like i’m going to stop —” he chokes, a little, swallows drily, “loving him, so it’s just. one of those things i have to live through, i guess.”

 

seokjin frowns. “i don’t like that.”

 

jimin smiles. “of course you don’t. but what else am i supposed to do? it’s not like he feels the same way, and i know what will happen if i tell him.”

 

“what will happen,” seokjin asks, skeptical.

 

“he’ll be very nice about it,” jimin nods, “but he’ll turn me down and then it’ll be very awkward. for a while. and i’ll just have to like, keep loving him. i dunno.”

 

seokjin makes a vague gesture, disgruntled. “that’s bullshit.”

 

jimin laughs. “how is it bullshit?”

 

“i don’t think it’ll be awkward,” seokjin says, leaning forward. “i’ve never seen a single awkward moment between you two in my life. i mean— it’s not going to be pleasant. but he’s going to give you what you need.”

 

jimin arches an eyebrow. “ give me what i need? ”

 

seokjin laughs. “not like that. i just mean— if you ask for space, he’ll give it to you. if you ask him to comfort you, he will. that boy really, really loves you. i don’t think this is the thing that’ll end up pulling you guys apart.”

 

jimin pouts. it’s a little childish, but he pouts anyway. seokjin snorts, kicks him under the table.

 

“don’t look like that,” he insists, “i’m serious. i know you’re worried about losing him.”

 

jimin shifts, takes a breath. nods, stiffly. seokjin softens.

 

“you’re not going to lose him,” he says. “i don’t think you ever could. even if he doesn’t love you the same way, i think— ah, this is going to sound very. cliche, maybe. but i think you love each other the same amount. does that make sense? even if it’s different love.”

 

“i don’t think so,” jimin says, frowning. “i think maybe— i haven’t told you everything, yet. i’ve been in love with him since literally, like, freshman year—”

 

“he’s loved you since freshman year,” seokjin protests, and jimin waves a dismissive hand.

 

“i know, i’m just saying—” 

 

jimin takes a breath, thinks. stares at his coffee, steaming. it’s never an easy thing to say out loud, is it. 

 

“i would spend my life with him. and i’d— i’d fucking marry the guy if i could— but i don’t think. not to say we won’t keep in touch after university, but i don’t think he wants us close that way.”

 

“what makes you think that,” seokjin asks softly.

 

jimin wrinkles his nose. “when— after that night, when you caught us. he told me it felt like we were barely even friends anymore. so, just. the way i want to be close to him, it’s not— it’s not the same.”

 

seokjin sighs. “it’s sex, though. you’re not going to do the friends with benefits thing forever, are you?”

 

“if i could i would,” jimin laughs, strained. “but, no. i’m sure— i’m sure at some point he’ll want to date, or something, i don’t—”

 

“okay,” seokjin hums, quiet, reaches over to rest a hand over jimin’s, squeeze. “let’s slow down, for a second. focus on right now, yeah? he loves you. if you tell him he’ll still love you. that’s what matters, okay? please don’t forget that.”

 

jimin takes a shaky, shaky breath. “yeah.”

 

seokjin squeezes his hand, lets him compose himself. lets him stop shaking, before he pulls back again. 

 

“okay,” seokjin says. “and i’m covering lunch.”

 

jimin’s head snaps up. “i don’t— we can split it, it’s fine—”

 

“ah-ah-ah,” seokjin chides, waving a hand, “don’t even. i won’t hear another word.”

 

“hyung,” jimin complains, “i don’t want all of you guys paying for me all the time, now, i can still take care of myself—”

 

“we won’t,” seokjin assures him, “but let us take care of you too, sometimes. don’t make it so hard on yourself, jiminie.”

 

jimin wrinkles his nose. “yeah, okay.”

 

seokjin snorts. “you’re going to make it hard on yourself anyway,” he points out, and jimin kicks him under the table, biting back a smile, “i know you will, but thanks for lying to my face.”

 

“shut up,” jimin laughs. 

 

seokjin reaches down, grabs something from his bag, and then slides it across the table. an envelope. jimin eyes it curiously. 

 

seokjin pushes it forward again, and then it registers that he’s giving it over. giving it to jimin.

 

“jungkook told me you were worried about making rent,” seokjin says, slowly. jimin stares. “just for this month. i’ll let you be all— self-sufficient, after this. but i don’t want you worrying, while you look for a job.”

 

jimin stares. looks at seokjin, back at the envelope. he’s frozen on his chair. it’s not a huge sum of money, but it’s enough. and he knows seokjin gave him more than he needs, because that’s seokjin.

 

“hyung,” he breathes. “i can’t accept this.”

 

“you can,” seokjin smiles, and nudges it forward again. “i’m giving it to you. early, um. birthday present.”

 

“it’s may,” jimin mumbles. “fuck you, you can’t do this—”

 

seokjin laughs, reaches over to pat his hand again. “i’m doing it, okay? take it. i have the money to spare, you know i’ve been doing well— just. take it, okay?”

 

jimin stares. “i can’t accept this, hyung, really—”

 

“i’ll break into your apartment and leave it there if i have to,” seokjin smiles. “fucking take it before i snap your neck.”

 

jimin laughs despite himself. reluctantly takes the envelope, hides it away in his bag. murmurs his thanks over and over as they leave the restaurant, and hugs seokjin tight when they separate. 

 

he makes rent.

 

finds another job, and waits at a shitty ramen bar downtown. they pay him barely half his original salary, and it’s not going to be enough. 

 

next month, next month. 

 

jimin is worried.

 

next month rolls around, and that pit in his stomach— sinks. he counts, recounts. dips into his emergency funds, but he still, just. doesn’t have enough. 

 

doesn’t have enough.

 

so— so he starts looking at apartments, but if he can’t make this month’s rent, in this shitty building, how the hell is he going to find something else. and even then— he has barely half a week to figure it out, and it would be a miracle to find something that fast.

 

he thinks of jungkook’s offer— that any of them would let him crash on their couch.

 

he just keeps taking. taking and taking. 

 

thread > gguk

gguk 2:03 pm

> soooo hows the new job?

 

he sighs, brings his knees to his chest. he’s tired. he’s honestly exhausted, balancing this, and work, and school. it all feels like too much.

 

he keeps saying goodbye to his apartment. keeps staring at the chipped paint and the stains in the carpet, reliving memories. he’s going to miss it— game nights here, dinners spent laughing, all of them piled onto the couch. getting tipsy and arguing loudly into the night— all seven of them stuffed into his kitchen, cooking and bumping into each other. 

 

he’s going to miss it. he wouldn’t ever move, but he has to. there isn’t anything he can do— he’s already begged for his old job back twice and asked for a raise at the new one. he’s pushing his luck.

 

jm

> its fine ;(

> i miss my old job the people were so much nicer

 

gguk

> yeah its too bad yongguk backstabbed you smh

> it’s only fine?

 

jm

> lmaoo

> yeah its longer hours and they pay me literally,, like half what i made before

 

gguk

> ;(

> do you think you’ll be ok this month?

 

jm

> ah well

> no

 

gguk

> no? when is rent due

 

jm

> tomorrow

> i dont have it

 

gguk

> how much do you need

 

jimin sighs.

 

jm

> im not going to take money from you

> its my responsibility, i lost my job and not you

> i’ll deal

 

gguk

> i know you wont do this but i’ll put it out there anyway: ask seokjin for help again

 

jimin snorts. jungkook knows him well— knows he won’t do it but doesn’t stop trying. jimin takes so much, all the time. takes from jungkook, from seokjin. he wishes he didn’t have to.

 

he sighs, tips over to lie on the couch, press his cheek to the cushions. 

 

jungkook leaning over him, pressing them together, kissing him for what felt like hours. kissing him aching, gentle. it felt like that moment in front of the convenience store drawn out and played over and over again. 

 

jimin’s heart is never going to stop beating like this, ugly and greedy and wanting. his heart will always beat jungkookjungkookjungkook.  

 

jm

> im not doing that but i appreciate you trying

 

gguk

> :(

> are you trying to find a new place? i can help you look if thats easier

 

jimin really, really wishes it would be easier. but jungkook, sitting next to him and looking at apartments with him— ah. he would laugh, make fun of the furniture, mull over the cost of amenities and argue about location with him— not quite that easy. 

 

jm

> im ok, but thank you

 

gguk

> ok 

> what are you gonna do? have you found something?

 

jm

> no

> i dont think i’ll find something, its super short notice

> its just,, its tiring

 

gguk

> i know

 

jimin sighs, rests his phone on his chest and then stares at the ceiling. he can probably, what— crash on seokjin’s couch, stay there until he finds a better job, finds a place. it’s not ideal, it’s really not.

 

he feels so, deeply. tired.  

 

jungkook’s hands in his heart, his heart shrinking by the fucking minute. he falls asleep so quick these days, walks around with bags under his eyes. it’s in his bones. his bones. exhaustion.

 

gguk

> what if you lived with me

 

jimin stares. 

 

jm

> what?

 

gguk

> you could live with me

> if we split the rent its cheaper than what you pay now

> and i wont ask you to pay your full half yet, since obv i can cover all of it

> so ?

> i dont think its a bad idea

> instead of you moving into some apartment just bc it was available

 

jimin honestly wonders if he fell asleep, or something. if he’s dreaming.

 

jm

> you’re talking about me moving in with you?

 

gguk

> yeah

> obviously you dont have to say yes

> just cause im thinking, tae doesnt have a lot of room, seokjin has his own thing going on, and yoongi n joon are their own thing, hoseok’s got roommates already

> idk it makes sense

 

god. god, right. it makes sense because they’re friends, because jimin shouldn’t be horribly in love with him, because jungkook isn’t horribly in love back. 

 

jungkook keeps giving, and jimin keeps taking. 

 

jm

> gguk.. i cant do that

> its too much, i’ll figure something out

 

gguk

> what are you gonna do instead, then?

> stay on my couch and then move into an apt you dont like just bc its cheap and available??

> just until you’re back on your feet properly

> i want to help hyung, let me help

 

jimin is scrambling desperately for an excuse— one that isn’t i’m in love with you.  

 

he knows, already, that doing this is a mistake. that having jungkook around him all the time will hurt more. 

 

jungkook seems ready to give him more and more and more, he keeps letting jimin see more of him, have more of him— and jimin just feels guilty.

 

all of it— all of it, it feeds that lovesick part of himself, that aches for it. that aches to see jungkook sleepy in the morning, to tell him goodnight, to eat dinner with him. 

 

jimin feels like he’s lying straight to jungkook’s face. 

 

jm

> jungkook i really cant ask you to do that for me

> i dont want to bother you

 

gguk

> i want you to live with me

> i want to help

 

god. jimin wants to punch him in the face, or something. wants to barrel his fists into jungkook’s chest and shout— don’t you get it?  

 

he takes a slow, slow breath. he can’t really say no. he honestly can’t. 

 

jungkook is so good at this, at backing him into a wall and cornering him easy. batting down his excuses until the truth comes out. always has been. 

 

jm

> okay

> but i dont like this

 

gguk

> shut up you love my apartment

 

jimin snorts. jungkook can always make him laugh. it’s annoying how jungkook can always make him laugh.

 

gguk

> if you want to take the couch you can but honestly hyung, just share the bed with me

> whatever you have for your rent this month, save it and pay me back later

> if you save the money now you can use it for a deposit on an apt, something like that

> when do you have to move out?

 

jimin wants to scream. it’s all so, so much. he’s going to fuck it up— sleeping next to jungkook every night, waking up to him in the morning. 

 

he can’t pretend all the time. jungkook is going to touch him, and he’ll break. 

 

it’s happening, now. it’s falling apart.

 

jm

> thursday

 

gguk

> thursday?!

> shit okay

> um

> i’ll come over tomorrow to help you pack up? do you have boxes or should i bring some

 

jm

> i dont have boxes, i’ll go out n buy some tomorrow

 

gguk

> nono its fine, i have tons of boxes in my closet somewhere

> we should be fine, dont spend more than you have to

> if we pack your stuff into my car and yours it should be fine right?? what r you doing with the furniture?

 

jm

> jungkook

> thank you

 

gguk

> :”)

> hyung

> its really nothing

 

jm

> its really not

> thank you

 

gguk

> any one of us would do this for you, you know that?

 

jm

> i know

 

gguk

> okay

> you’re okay?

 

jm

> i’m better now

 

gguk

> :)

> i’ll call you later? we can figure out what you’re gonna keep n get stuff organized before i come over tomorrow

 

jm

> i love you

 

gguk

> :)

> i love you too!!!

> more >:)

 

jm

> i can promise you dont love me more

> i’ll talk to you later tonight, gguk

 

gguk

> talk to u later :333

it’s been a week.

 

jimin is barely holding it together. 

 

it’s everywhere, all the time, now. jungkook’s soft, soft love. it squeezes him on all sides, follows him to class, hugs him to sleep. 

 

jungkook getting dressed in the dark when he has class but jimin doesn’t, jungkook hugging him goodnight, jungkook making them dinner and then insisting on doing the dishes himself, too. 

 

jimin sneaks out of bed the first couple nights, curls up on the couch. jungkook has none of it, wakes up and drags him back to bed, wraps himself octopus-tight around his middle so if jimin tries again, he’ll wake them both.

 

they haven’t had sex.

 

jimin thinks it’s a good idea, at least. to keep it away, for now. easier that way. easier to call themselves friends, easier for jimin to pretend he doesn’t feel as much as he does. 

 

“hyung.”

 

“hm?” jimin hums.

 

they’re on the floor of jungkook’s bathroom. 

 

well. he’s on the floor of jungkook’s bathroom. jungkook is perched on the toilet, running bleach through his hair. 

 

he still has no idea how jungkook got him to agree to this— something about being rebellious and taking control of his life, whatever— he kind of just thinks jungkook wants to see him blonde, honestly. 

 

but they’re here now, jimin in his rattiest, oldest t-shirt, and jungkook running gloved hands through his hair. 

 

“left,” jungkook murmurs, preoccupied, and jimin turns his head to the side. 

 

it’s quiet. 

 

the drip-drip-drip of the showerhead. jungkook took a shower before jimin got home and that means the bathroom smells sweet, it’s still thick with steam. 

 

when jimin breathes it feels heavy. he thinks he might end up saying it tonight.

 

he’s sitting between jungkook’s legs. jungkook’s thighs pressed into his shoulders, the heat of jungkook’s chest and back drifting over his neck. close, thoughtless. 

 

he sighs. 

 

it’s honestly kind of nice. 

 

the bleach tickles a little, but it’s pleasantly cool against his scalp and jungkook runs it through carefully, handles him gentle. pauses to wipe at the bleach if it gets on his skin, and then continues. 

 

jimin is thrumming, where he sits. it’s harder and harder, being around jungkook. 

 

what used to be easy moments— a laugh, a smile, the brush of fingertips to his arm— have his heartstrings tugged so hard he’s gasping with it, leaning over the counter and watching jungkook hum to himself, dance in the kitchen.

 

the words boiling alive on his tongue, branding themselves iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou to the roof of his mouth.

 

( “jimin.”

 

he turns, and jungkook is standing on top of the car. jimin blinks hard, and then surges forward— 

 

“what the hell are you doing,” he hisses, eyeing the way jungkook wobbles, nearly loses his balance, “get down from there, you’ll hurt yourself—”

 

“hyung,” jungkook laughs, looking down at him. he’s so bright. his smile is bright, his eyes shine, and the moon isn’t even full tonight but it lights him up anyway. jimin pauses, anger dissipating. “let’s watch the meteor shower up here, c’mon—”

 

jimin stares at jungkook’s hand, outstretched. 

 

it’s that cool kind of summer heat, tonight— when it’s buzzing and humid, but the breeze is cold. jimin’s shirt sticks to his back as he climbs up, swats the mosquitoes from his calves and joins jungkook on the roof. 

 

he refuses to stand and so jungkook sits next to him, lets jimin shuffle up and press them together even if they’re both sticky with sweat because he’s scared off falling off the car. 

 

it’s hot, it’s humid, and they’re sweaty. jungkook wraps an arm around him anyway.

 

they watch the meteor shower, eyes following the bright lines in the sky, wide and awed. jungkook’s soft laughs of disbelief, surprise, how his arm tightens around jimin when he’s excited. jimin rests his head on jungkook’s shoulder, and drowns in it.

 

this moment. 

 

they’re alone, they’re outside. 

 

the highway is empty. it’s late. 

 

jungkook is so happy, tonight, and he chose to be happy next to jimin.

 

“i love you,” jimin murmurs. it hurts to say, but he wants jungkook to know it anyway. this boy. his jungkook. he’ll love him like this even if it tears him apart. he always will. “i love you, jungkook.”

 

the wind rustling in the trees, tickling the back of jimin’s neck. jungkook’s soft laugh.

 

“look, i think that’s a shooting star,” jungkook says, and points. 

 

he didn’t hear it. 

 

jimin looks at his hand instead of the shooting star, traces the bone of his wrist and knuckles. the hands that have held him, touched him. held his own. 

 

“i love you,” he whispers. just to say it. 

 

because it bursts from him, in this moment. because it hurts more to keep it inside. because it needs to come out some way, some how. 

 

he’s sweaty. he’s uncomfortable. there are mosquito bites swelling on his calf. 

 

he wants this forever. )

 

jungkook combs his fingers through jimin’s hair, tips his head back and checks the roots. jimin’s eyes slide closed. the bleach is cold but jungkook’s hands are warm even through the gloves, and he touches jimin like he’s precious, priceless.

 

“hyung,” jungkook hums. 

 

jimin bites his tongue. 

 

“i think you’ll look pretty with blonde hair.”

 

“i look pretty all the time, asshole,” jimin smiles.

 

jungkook laughs. jimin bites his tongue again. jungkook dips down, pats his palms to the side of jimin’s head. “all done.”

 

“wonderful,” jimin sighs, straightening his back. “so that’s, what. another hour?”

 

“yup,” jungkook hums, handing him a towel to drape over his shoulders. “it was pretty light already after last round, so i think we should be good after this one.”

 

“and then i’ll be blonde,” jimin says, eyeing himself in the mirror. 

 

their last bleaching round ended up with him a dirty blonde, streaks of orange and black. jungkook decided on going for platinum, but jimin is honestly fine with regular old blonde.

 

“you’ll be blonde,” jungkook smiles, hugging him around the middle. 

 

jimin looks at him in the mirror, his chin hooked over jimin’s shoulder and how his eyes linger on the hair, and then dart to jimin’s. he got home later today, took a detour to bring them home an early dinner and then gave jimin his leftovers. 

 

he looks good. jungkook has been glowing, lately. singing in the shower, dancing around the kitchen as he makes himself breakfast, jumping on jimin and crashing them into bed with a laugh.

 

jimin knows he’s doing better, too. it’s so much easier, living like this. more space, more room— less to worry about. he has interviews lined up next week, and suits to go to them in. 

 

he thinks living together is good for both of them, and jimin has been trying to figure out what’s in it for jungkook for the past week. 

 

jungkook looks at him in the mirror, gives him a small smile. 

 

his eyes are shining. the bathroom lights are shitty yellow, and his hair is parted funny down the middle from how it dried after his shower. he needs chapstick, lips bitten red and dry. 

 

he’s so fucking beautiful. 

 

jungkook dips his head, and presses his pout into jimin’s shoulder. “blonde,” he whispers, eyes wide, smile playful.

 

“the bleach smells bad,” jimin says, and returns his smile.

 

just to say something. jungkook’s palms are warm over his stomach, and if he bites his tongue any harder it’ll fall off. 

 

“it does,” jungkook agrees. “what time is it, wanna eat something?”

 

“sure,” jimin sighs. 

 

they end up sat at the dining table, jungkook sliding over a sleeve of crackers while he peels an orange for them. jimin watches him tear at the peel, thumb digging into it, coming away with orange under his nails. 

 

it’s sunset. it’s a pretty picture, honestly.

 

the tan of his skin, the lines of his hands, the brown of the table and orange of the— orange. if jimin were an artist he might paint it. 

 

he glances up— jungkook, brow furrowed in concentration, pouting as he works on the orange. jungkook meets his eyes briefly. nothing much, just to look. continues working on the orange.

 

jimin tips his head back, stares at the ceiling.

 

it hurts. it always does, it’s a kind of low, low thrum of he doesn’t love you back. jimin keeps waiting for the moment he gets used to it, and it never arrives. 

 

jungkook’s knuckles brush his, and when he looks down, there’s an orange slice waiting for him. he grabs it, pops it in his mouth. 

 

“oh,” he hums, frowning, “oh wow, very juicy.”

 

“very,” jungkook agrees, eating one too. he hands jimin another slice. they split the orange that way, jungkook eating one half and jimin the other. slow, chewing slow, watching the sunset out the window. 

 

this soft, soft love. sharing an orange. 

 

jimin sighs.

 

jungkook’s phone upturned on the table, the timer ticking away. they still have fifty minutes to go on their hour. jungkook grabs another orange, peels it. 

 

jimin props his chin up on the table, and watches him. 

 

“what,” jungkook chuckles, when he notices. his ears are pink. jimin smiles, a little. fond. 

 

“no, just,” jimin shakes his head, eyes lingering over the cut on jungkook’s thumb from trying to make them salads last night. “thank you.”

 

jungkook glances up at him, hands still moving idly. smiles. “yeah, of course.”

 

jimin nods, a silent go on, and jungkook chuckles again, ducks his head down and finishes peeling the orange.

 

jungkook has given jimin so much. hasn’t stopped giving from the moment they met. 

 

first it was— giving jimin that first smile, the first shy laugh. letting himself be dragged to the dance studios after hours, taught the basics. letting jimin be the first to bring him out of his shell. 

 

and now— jungkook giving him hungry, aching, thankyou kisses, jungkook giving himself over naked and safe and tired in the shower, jungkook giving jimin his apartment, his food, his couch, his bed. 

 

jimin wonders when jungkook will stop giving. 

 

jungkook hands jimin an orange slice, and then takes one for himself. half and half. jimin eats it, and then slides him the crackers, just to see what he’ll do. gives him something, just to see what he’ll do.

 

jungkook grabs one, and then— thoughtless, thoughtless—  hands one to jimin too.

 

“i love you.”

 

jungkook glances up at him. blinks, caught off-guard, cheeks still full of orange. 

 

the words boil over. it hurts infinitely more to keep them in his heart, his chest, his throat. they’re already branded to his skin, to his mouth— and this, this. 

 

jungkook giving and giving, jungkook giving so thoughtless and so much. 

 

jungkook at sunset, soft and a little tired, eating oranges with him.

 

“i love you,” jimin repeats, quieter.

 

jungkook blinks. jimin knows he doesn’t get it yet. sees it, in the slight confusion, the easy way he replies— 

 

“i love you too.”

 

jimin smiles, a little. takes his time to memorize it, jungkook looking at him like this. the blind trust, the faith. his skin golden under the sun, his lips in a pout, chewing absently at the orange. 

 

quietly, very quietly, jimin says goodbye.

 

takes a moment, as he memorizes, as his eyes dart over jungkook’s face, his hands— takes a moment to brace himself. for jungkook to pull his hands from jimin’s chest, tear the strings tangled in his fingers, and bring jimin’s heart out with him.

 

jungkook looks at him, and jimin says goodbye.

 

“hyung?”

 

jimin takes a breath.

 

“i’m in love with you.”

 

jungkook freezes. jimin watches his eyes go a little wide, watches the realization sink in. 

 

his hands going slack around the orange, how he blinks quick and then stares. how his chews slow and then stop completely. 

 

stares, stares, stares. 

 

jimin lets him stare. he feels like there should be more crying, more anxiety, more something. but he’s felt it so long, known it so long. and known, too— that this would happen. so it’s just— relief.

 

that it’s out there. that jungkook knows, now. that he doesn’t have to feel this alone anymore.

 

“i don’t expect anything from you,” jimin adds, quietly. “but i wanted you to know.”

 

when jungkook speaks again, he sounds breathless. like someone snuck in his chest and stole the air from his lungs, and only left a little behind. the words shaky, small. 

 

the hesitation. like if he doesn’t speak then maybe it won’t be real.

 

“how long?”

 

jimin sucks in a sharp breath. “since your freshman year.”

 

jungkook stares at him. jimin has no idea what he was expecting, honestly. jimin has always been this way around him— lovesick, greedy, wanting. 

 

“my—” jungkook sounds weirdly strangled, “my freshman year? when?”

 

it shouldn’t be this easy, but it is. it’s jungkook, and seokjin was right— because even as they speak, jungkook’s hand is sneaking across the table, hesitant but very determined, and tangling with jimin’s. 

 

“i’m not sure,” jimin tells him honestly. “i know it was when i taught you to dance, at first. when you started to talk to me, smile for real. but there wasn’t, like. a moment. ”

 

jungkook stares at him. jimin lets him stare. lets him drink it in. he’s reeling, jimin sees it— the thoughts blurring past his eyes, whizzing around his skull, how his mouth parts and then closes again with a million questions. it’s a lot. 

 

“that’s four years,” jungkook says, finally. barely a whisper. “why didn’t you say anything?”

 

jungkook’s hands, tangled in his heartstrings. curling into fists, slow. jimin braces himself, for that tear. for what it will feel like, when jungkook pulls himself away and rips jimin’s heart out with him as he does. 

 

jimin tips his head to the side, and smiles a little. something sad. 

 

“because i knew you didn’t feel the same,” he says softly.

 

jungkook’s eyes flicker, his hand squeezes in jimin’s. oh, he’s worried. 

 

jimin sees it, he’s worried. how his brow pinches, a little, before it smooths out like he doesn’t want jimin to see. but jimin has always seen jungkook, too. 

 

“i know you still don’t,” jimin continues, just as soft. 

 

jungkook clenches his jaw. jimin hopes, when jungkook takes his heart, that it won’t hurt too bad. hopes the bleeding stops fast. 

 

“i get it,” he says, quietly, “don’t worry. i just wanted you to know how i felt.”

 

“hyung, i—” jungkook stops. he still sounds strangled, strained. he keeps squeezing jimin’s hand, like that will somehow make up for it. “i’m sorry.”

 

jimin closes his eyes. 

 

go on, do it.

 

“i’m sorry,” jungkook whispers. “i’m sorry, you deserve— someone who’ll love you the same way—”

 

“but, gguk,” jimin murmurs, head heavy with it, tears choking up his throat— 

 

here it is, here’s the tear, jungkook’s hands pulling away from his chest, pulling the strings taught until they start to fray—

 

“i’ll only ever want you.”

 

jungkook’s hand squeezes desperately in his, trembling. 

 

“hyung, i’m— i don’t know what to say, i’m sorry—”

 

“don’t apologize,” jimin murmurs. it’s slow, the tear. how the hands in his chest grope, grab, rake nails along the sides and tear ugly at the strings until they break. it’s slow, it’s painful. “it’s not your fault.”

 

“it feels like it is,” jungkook admits. “i don’t know what to do now.”

 

jimin swallows hard. this is the end.

 

jungkook’s hands pulling away from him, a mess of bloody strings in their palms, nails dripping with it.

 

jimin’s heart dragged out of his chest this way— with the taste of orange in his mouth, with jungkook holding him, at sunset.

 

he thinks it’s a beautiful end. 

 

“i don’t know what to do either,” jimin admits, voice trembling. chokes on it, the heat in his throat, the tears. swallows hard, shoulders shaking quietly. 

 

his chest is empty, now. 

 

jungkook’s hands gone, and jimin somehow misses them. god, what the fuck has he done.

 

“hyung,” jungkook breathes, “oh, hyung, i’m—”

 

“don’t,” jimin chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut. ducks his head, and sobs quietly— voice so, so shaky— “please, just.”

 

“jimin,” jungkook murmurs. “hyung, can i touch you? i can’t just sit here—”

 

“yeah,” jimin gasps, breaths trembling, god it hurts, and jungkook lets go of his hand. jimin curls into the table, hides his face in his arms and cries. 

 

jungkook’s arms wrapping around his shoulders, the mouth pressed to his bicep. jungkook crouching by him, holding. jimin leans into it, tries to cling to that stupid, stupid 3-in-1 body wash, and cries.

 

it’s always jungkook, it always is. even now. even now.

 

“i’m sorry,” jungkook murmurs, squeezing him close. “‘m sorry, hyung, it must’ve— fuck, it must’ve been so hard.”

 

“it— you have— have no fuckin’ idea,” jimin laughs, watery, hiccuping, “oh my— my god.”

 

“let it out,” jungkook murmurs. “i’m right here, love, let it out—”

 

jimin cries on him for a while. 

 

jungkook lets him cry, rubs circles into his back and murmurs soft reassurances, things jimin can’t even really catch— it’s exhausting, it’s emptying, it’s crying four fucking years of pain out. 

 

jungkook presses a kiss to his shoulder and jimin takes a gasping breath that trembles, crumbles further against him— jungkook murmurs sorry, sorry, and doesn’t kiss him anymore.

 

his head spins with it— he gets dizzy, barely catches his breath between sobs even with jungkook’s soft breathe, breathe for me in his ear. racked with them, body shaking, held in place only by jungkook’s arms.

 

even now, it’s jungkook.

 

jimin hates him. hates hates hates him. 

 

it’s an ugly kind of hatred, a petty one— you should love me back. ugly ugly. jimin’s greed turned darker. 

 

jungkook cards fingers through his hair and tells him softly, you’ll be okay, hyung, you’re strong, i know you are.  

 

jimin wants to hate him.

 

it would be easier that way, maybe. to yell at him, stomp out. to get angry, to shove jungkook away and scream, to curse and throw things and blame him.

 

jungkook leaves a trembling kiss to his temple.

 

he can’t. can’t hate him.

 

those lovesick parts of himself— tired, harrowed and worn from carrying it for so long— thank him. 

 

thank him, in their dizzying relief. 

 

that when jungkook presses him close and tells him softly, i love you, hyung, just not in the right way — jimin feels the thrum run under his skin, feels himself lean close and press iloveyou into jungkook’s shoulder.

 

he doesn’t have to pretend, anymore.

 

he can rest, now. 

 

he can rest.

 

“jimin,” jungkook murmurs. “jimin, breathe before you pass out.”

 

jimin laughs, but it comes out sort of strangled and mostly choked, because he’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken a proper breath in a good minute. jungkook squeezes him close.

 

“take a deep breath for me, okay?” jungkook murmurs, “let’s do it together.”

 

jungkook takes a deep breath, slow, and jimin does his best to follow. he’s shaking with it, breaths hiccuping in the middle as he inhales, exhales. it takes a while, it takes a few minutes of jungkook breathing with him, telling him good, good, again , before he calms.

 

before he takes a breath and it only shakes a little, when his throat stops burning and he’s emptied it all out. 

 

jungkook rubbing circles into his back. slow, slow. 

 

jimin opens his eyes, blinks the tears away. his entire face face feels swollen, feels streaked with tears and puffy and he’s so, so tired. he sniffles, knows he must look absolutely gross right now. snot and tears and eyes swollen with it— 

 

“hyung,” jungkook murmurs. 

 

“yeah,” jimin says. wow, his voice is rough. strained from crying, shaky. 

 

“doing okay?” jungkook asks quietly. “want me to get you tissues?”

 

“i—” jimin reaches up to wipe at his nose, and honestly marvels at the amount of snot that comes away on his hand. “yeah, please.”

 

“okay,” jungkook murmurs, pulling away, “be right back.”

 

jimin cleans himself up, blows his nose and wipes his eyes. jungkook sends him to the bathroom to wash his face and tells him he’ll make them something to eat meanwhile, which jimin thinks is just code for, i’ll give you some time alone.

 

he’s grateful for it anyway, though, and spends a while splashing water to his face. taking slow breaths, letting himself come down from it.

 

thread > seokjin

jm 7:29 pm

> i told him

 

seokjin

> ??

> wait

> jimin do you mean

 

jm

> yeah

> i told jungkook i loved him

> uh

> dealing with the fallout now

 

seokjin

> howre you feeling? how did it go?

 

jm

> i mean, generally, bad

> he doesnt love me back, surprise!!

> i cried on him for a while

 

seokjin

> :(

> he’s taking care of you, though, right?

 

jm

> yeah, you were right

> but hyung

> i just

> god

> it’s easier and its not easier at the same time

 

seokjin

> yeah

> what did you guys talk about? or did you just get straight to the crying

 

jimin snorts. 

 

he’s sitting on the sink, swinging his legs. his breaths still tremble at the end, and his chest feels gaping empty, but at least he’s not sobbing. 

 

he can hear jungkook clattering around in the kitchen, the microwave beeping. jimin gets the feeling it’s going to be the bulgogi leftover from a couple days ago, that they both agreed was the best thing they’ve ever eaten.

 

jm

> i told him i loved him and how long

> and he told me he didnt love me back

> and then i cried

> so,, not a lot of talking?

 

seokjin

> lmao

> im guessing you guys are gonna talk soon? its sort of difficult to hide in a 1br 1b apartment

 

jm

> lmao yeah

> we’re gonna eat now and i assume we’ll talk?

> i just dont know what we’re going to do,, like whats the protocol

 

seokjin

> fuck if i know

> do you need space from him? you know you’re always welcome at mine

 

jm

> i’ll see

> it’s still jungkook, you know?

> it might be ok to stay here

 

seokjin

> okay

> i hope it works out jimin, i really really do

> however its meant to work out

> you deserve to be happy

 

jm

> i just cried for like fifteen hours, dont make me cry again

 

seokjin

> sorry sorry!!

> text or call if you need anything, seriously

> im here for you, i love you

> and i’ll beat jungkook up if he says mean things to you

 

jm

> lmaoo

> thank you hyung, i will

> i love you too

 

he takes a moment— stares at himself in the mirror. his eyes red and swollen from crying, nose pink, cheeks pink.

 

he doesn’t look miserable. he just kind of looks tired.

 

the bathroom still smells sweet, and vaguely jimin is aware that he needs to rinse out the bleach, at some point, that his scalp is kind of tingly and maybe it’s more burning than tingly, and okay, maybe he should rinse it out now —

 

he ducks his head into the sink, and rinses it out. when he comes up again, he’s blonde. he’s dripping wet, but his hair is blonde, and he stares. 

 

quickly towels it dry until it’s just a little damp, hanging over his eyes, and wow, okay. 

 

jungkook was right, he’s a pretty blonde.

 

“hyung?”

 

jungkook outside the bathroom door, floorboards creaking as he shifts his weight. he’s nervous, he’s still worried. 

 

jimin feels a little ridiculous for wanting to take a selfie, or something, when he’s just had his heart broken, but the hair looks good. he pulls the door open, and watches jungkook’s eyes snap to it. watches his mouth fall open, a little, how his hands twitch by his sides like he wants to touch. 

 

“i’m blonde,” jimin announces.

 

“you are,” jungkook says immediately. “it looks—” he hesitates. 

 

jimin dips his head in a silent, touch. so he does, reaches up to run his fingers through it, careful. jimin closes his eyes. 

 

“it looks good,” jungkook finishes quietly. 

 

“thanks,” jimin says, straightening again. leans, to look at himself in the mirror. “you reheated the bulgogi, right? i can smell it.”

 

jungkook bites back a smile, and coughs back a chuckle. jimin realizes dumbly the roles are reversed, now— jungkook the one that isn’t sure what’s too much, what he’s allowed to do, where the line is. 

 

“yeah, it’s the bulgogi,” he says, and makes a vague gesture down the hallway. 

 

seokjin said he’s never seen a single awkward moment between them, and unfortunately— jimin is finding him to be right. 

 

it should be weird. it should be awkward, stilted, uncomfortable. 

 

but it’s not, it’s just both of them with their heads ducked into their food, eating quietly. jungkook muttering out a quiet holy fuck when he takes the first bite and jimin laughing. 

 

the sun is low over the horizon, now, draping everything in the apartment in soft, deep orange. jimin is full, he’s tired. he wants to sleep, honestly. but they should talk. 

 

he knows jungkook is thinking the same thing, with the way he keeps shifting in his seat. 

 

and so jimin puts his chopsticks down, and sighs, and when he looks up— 

 

“i just realized,” jungkook starts slowly, “when i asked why you wouldn’t— fuck me, i said it would make things awkward if you were in love with me.”

 

jimin blinks. 

 

“i mean. i mean yeah.”

 

jungkook snorts. and then laughs. and then shakes his head, hides it in his hands. “jesus. i’m sorry, there’s probably like, a million more moments like that.”

 

jimin smiles, a little. “kind of, yeah. it’s really not your fault.”

 

“i know, but like,” jungkook wrinkles his nose. “it feels like my fault.”

 

“it’s not,” jimin insists. leans back in his chair. he chews on his bottom lip, sighs. “and, yeah. i figured if we— did that, i’d have to tell you. i could never, um. have you like that and not tell you. just seemed, um. i dunno.”

 

jungkook purses his lips. he’s flushed pink, now. “unfair?”

 

“mm,” jimin frowns. “not unfair. but i couldn’t ever, like. i just know that if we’d ever done that, i wouldn’t have been able to bear being friends, anymore. you know?”

 

“right,” jungkook blinks. “well. now i feel bad for asking so much.”

 

jimin snorts. “don’t feel bad,” he assures him, picking up his chopsticks again. “none of this is your fault.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose. “i’m gonna feel bad anyway. i’ve been hurting you this whole time and i had no idea, of course i’m gonna feel bad.”

 

jimin chuckles. “you’re too good, gguk-ah,” he tells him. reaches out, fixes his collar. “and you know— i can see you being careful, around me. just— i don’t know what you want, i don’t know how to do this either. but i don’t want us to be any different.”

 

“i don’t want that either,” jungkook admits in a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “i just— i don’t want to like— i don’t even know. i feel like if i call you pretty or touch you, it’s like. there’s more, now?”

 

“yeah,” jimin hums. “kind of. but i like when you do that. would like it if i didn’t love you, too.”

 

“really? okay,” jungkook hums. “it’s not— it’s not weird?”

 

“i didn’t fall in love cause you held my hand,” jimin snorts. “yeah, it’s fine.”

 

“why did you—” jungkook hesitates. 

 

jimin’s lips twitch up in a smile, and he cocks his head, looks at him. jungkook goes deeper pink.

 

“you can ask,” jimin tells him, amused. “i’ve cried already, i’m done.”

 

jungkook bites back a laugh, ducks his head. clears his throat— “um. okay. why did you— why did you fall in love with me, then?”

 

jimin wrinkles his nose, sighs. he can feel jungkook watching him, careful. jimin honestly hasn’t thought about it in a while. has just kept feeling and feeling it, but hasn’t put it in words in a while. 

 

“it’s the way you love me,” jimin settles on. looks at him. jungkook watching him still, curious. 

 

“what does that mean,” he asks.

 

jimin smiles, a little. “you’re really, really gentle. you know that? i swear you think i’m made of glass.”

 

jungkook ducks his head, laughs. 

 

“you treat me really well,” jimin continues. “and you kind of just— ah, i dunno. you see me for who i am. no bullshit.”

 

“don’t—” jungkook clears his throat. he’s such a pretty pink, right now. “don’t the others do that too?”

 

“mm,” jimin hums, considers. “sometimes. i’m not sure how to explain it, you just sort of— always know. when i’m down, when i’m lying. if i tell you i don’t want a hug, you know i want one anyway. stuff like that.”

 

jungkook stares at the table. jimin can see him working through it, trying to make sense of it. 

 

“so you— love me because i love you? ”

 

jimin snorts. “i mean, i guess so. i’m not sure there are words for it. my heart just chose you , gguk, there’s really nothing else.”

 

jungkook chews on his bottom lip. “i— can i tell you something?”

 

jimin blinks. “sure.”

 

“i was trying, um.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip. he’s blushing harder, now, and jimin wonders what the hell he’s struggling to say, exactly. “when we were sitting outside the convenience store, and i kissed you.”

 

jimin stares. “yeah?”

 

“it felt—” jungkook frowns, takes a deep breath. “different.”

 

jimin looks at him. he’s red. he’s red, now, flustered, swallowing hard. 

 

“yeah,” he encourages, “different how?”

 

“like, um,” jungkook hums. he’s still staring at the wood. “like more? i didn’t, um. i was worried i had a crush on you, or something, but that seems really stupid considering, um. your thing.”

 

“my thing,” jimin deadpans.

 

jungkook laughs, strained. “yeah, um.”

 

“jungkook,” jimin smiles, amused, “ do you have a crush on me?”

 

he watches— as jungkook goes red and then covers his face with his hands, leans over the table and groans. 

 

jimin wants to laugh with it, almost— that somehow, somehow— jungkook feels something back. that when he finally let himself spill over, bared himself this way and let jungkook rip his heart out— it’s given right back to him.

 

jungkook is funny that way, apparently. hurts hurts hurts, but he’s so sweet, too. 

 

jimin eyes him, the back of his neck flushed pink and how he buries his head in his hands, shy.

 

“this is embarrassing,” jungkook admits. jimin laughs. 

 

“it’s not embarrassing,” he chuckles, “it’s just kind of— funny? it a fucked-up way?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook groans, “my timing is really bad, sorry.”

 

“well,” jimin purses his lips. “what the hell do we do now?”

 

“i don’t know,” jungkook whines, “i don’t know, i don’t want to hurt you but like, i want things, and i’m sure you want things too. but there’s— i don’t want to lose you, hyung, i don’t—”

 

“you won’t,” jimin smiles. “i mean fuck me, jungkook. you could never lose me.”

 

jungkook sighs. pulls his head out of his arms and instead turns sideways, rests it on his arms and looks at him, cheek smushed into his forearm. blinks hard.

 

“really?”

 

“did you not hear what i said,” jimin chuckles. “i said i’d only ever want you. did you think i was lying? did the crying not convince you?”

 

jungkook blushes. “well, i dunno.”

 

jimin reaches over— tentative, a little, and brushes the hair from jungkook’s eyes. can feel the gaze on him as he does, but they haven’t touched each other since he stopped crying and somebody needed to take the first step.

 

jimin leans back, sighs. lets his eyes drift over jungkook’s face. they’re both tired. jungkook cries whenever jimin cries, and they’re both tired.

 

“you want things,” jimin asks quietly. “what things?”

 

jungkook blinks. “to kiss you.”

 

“okay,” jimin smiles. he should’ve known jungkook could never hurt him for long. should’ve known, that when jungkook tore his heart out that he’d give it right back. “what else?”

 

“well, it’s embarrassing to list them,” jungkook grumbles. “it’s weird, i wasn’t expecting my crush to like me back. i just keep all my fantasies to myself, usually.”

 

“i more than like you back,” jimin chuckles, and then arches an eyebrow. “ fantasies? ”

 

jungkook blushes. “not like that, just. i dunno. what we were doing before, i guess. but, um. for real?”

 

“it was real before,” jimin points out, “but yeah.”

 

“yeah?”

 

jimin swallows hard. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea, but i want that too.”

 

jungkook takes a breath, lets it out slow. chews on his bottom lip. “i— i feel like i should tell you i’m still, um. figuring it out? like i’m— obviously i don’t see you as just a friend but it’s still, um. it’s a lot, so i don’t—”

 

“of course,” jimin says softly, “of course, i know—”

 

“i don’t want to just like, rush into things,” jungkook continues, cheeks pink, “even if we both want to. like, i’m still figuring out how much i like you and obviously there’s—” he takes a deep breath, “your feelings. that are, um. bigger. so let’s just—”

 

“take it slow,” jimin smiles. “yeah. yeah, i think so too.”

 

“yeah,” jungkook sighs, relieved. “god, i know you wouldn’t— ask for too much, but i just don’t want— was worried you’d want me making out with you all the time—”

 

jimin laughs. “i wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” he chuckles, leaning over to comb fingers through jungkook’s hair, slow. watch his eyelids flutter, watch him relax.

 

jungkook yawns, slow. leans up into the touch, until jimin lets his hand rest solid over his jaw, runs his thumb over the bags under jungkook’s eyes and holds him that way. 

 

jimin has sort of been reeling this whole time— thinking it would end, thinking it did end, and then having this. 

 

the promise of more that he’s been asking for, hoping for. denying himself. 

 

that they might really do this, that they’ll take it slow, that he can kiss jungkook again. that jungkook feels something for him too, however small. 

 

he spent four fucking years sitting on this big love, he’ll take whatever jungkook is willing to give him. he’ll wait as long as he has to. 

 

“i was worried i was asking for too much before,” jimin tells him, quietly. jungkook’s eyes blink open, watch him curiously. “i felt like i was really, really greedy, every time we kissed or had sex. it felt like i was lying to you. i’m sorry, jungkook-ah.”

 

“it never felt like you were holding back,” jungkook murmurs. “i really had no idea.”

 

jimin smiles. “i was bad at hiding it, i think. think i’ve loved you for so long it’s the only way i’ve ever been around you.”

 

jungkook wrinkles his nose. “that’s so sad.”

 

jimin laughs, pats his cheek. “it’s not sad anymore,” he hums, eyes darting over jungkook’s face, watching his dimple as he smiles. “not now that you have a crush on me.”

 

“hyung,” jungkook complains, turning to hide his face again. 

 

“why’re you embarrassed,” jimin laughs, “if anything, i should be embarrassed. i’m the one with big feelings, gguk, i’m just waiting for you to catch up.”

 

jungkook turns to look at him again. quieter, this look. jimin looks back. jungkook reaches up, taps his fingers to jimin’s hand. 

 

“i don’t know if i will,” he says. tugs at jimin’s fingertips, lifts them one by one, lets them fall against his skin. “i want to. i think you deserve it.”

 

“you don’t owe me anything,” jimin tells him. “we can take it slow and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. just because i want it doesn’t mean you have to, gguk.”

 

jungkook blinks. “no, i know. i just— want to love you, anyway. does that make sense?”

 

“what changed,” jimin asks quietly. “when you kissed me, outside the convenience store. what changed, then.”

 

he watches jungkook think, blink hard, go elsewhere. jimin swears he watches him relive the moment— how his eyes go a little distant, how his brow furrows. his mouth parts. and then jungkook bites his lip, swallows hard.

 

“i don’t know,” he says, finally. “it just changed. i think maybe some of it was— was when you said it was fine that you didn’t get off? but it really was just—” jungkook takes a breath, “ you . i don’t know.”

 

jimin smiles, a little. “i couldn’t pinpoint when i fell in love with you either,” he says. “and i don’t know why i did it in the first place. maybe things just don’t make sense sometimes, hm?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook laughs softly, eyes sliding closed. “yeah, maybe.”

 

“jungkook,” jimin murmurs. taps his thumb to jungkook’s cheek. “i really do love you. so whatever you want from me, i’ll do it, okay? i want to give back to you.”

 

“give back what,” jungkook asks, a murmur too. “i didn’t give you anything.”

 

jimin wants to cry with it. jungkook handing more and more of himself over, feeding into jimin’s self-indulgences. letting jimin see parts of him no one else sees. giving him that privilege.

 

“you’ve given me a lot,” jimin tells him, sliding his hand down, swiping a thumb over the corner of his lips. “trust me. you gave me things you didn’t have to. so just ask, okay? i’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

 

he feels the tremor run through him, the clench of jungkook’s jaw before he nudges at jimin’s hand, pouts his bottom lip. 

 

jimin chuckles, but lets his thumb rest over jungkook’s lips. smooths it left, right, and feels the soft sigh tickle his skin. jungkook parts his mouth, a little, and so jimin traces the shape of his lips. 

 

indulges— but it’s not an indulgence, anymore. 

 

he can do it, now. he can love this way, touch this way. 

 

trace his thumb over the dip of jungkook’s cupid’s bow, let it rest heavy over the fullness of his bottom lip. drag down, and watch it pull back up in a pout. 

 

jungkook’s soft breaths, ghosting over his thumb. the blush on his cheeks, faint and dusty pink and pretty. when jungkook speaks, jimin feels the words against his finger.

 

“can you kiss me?”

 

jimin looks at him. “you’re sure?”

 

jungkook’s eyes flutter open. soft, fond. tired. jimin swallows hard.

 

“i missed you.”

 

jimin smiles, a little. traces the swell of jungkook’s lip with his thumb, and then cups his chin. “missed me?”

 

jungkook nods, small. “i know we didn’t do anything, cause you were busy ‘n it was probably a bad idea because we live together—” jimin snorts, and jungkook bites back a smile, “but i missed kissing you ‘n stuff.”

 

“i missed that too,” jimin admits. “are you sure? it’s not— quite the same, anymore.”

 

jungkook pouts. “one kiss. and then i’ll be an adult and like, emotionally process the fact that you’re in love with me.”

 

jimin laughs, leans forward. “okay, sure. one kiss.”

 

jungkook smiles. jimin smiles back fondly at him, because he can, because he can look at jungkook the way he wants to. he’s gotten so, so used to hurting about it, to feeling all his big love alone, and now he doesn’t have to. 

 

he can share it this way, when he smooths a thumb over jungkook’s lips and then kisses him with i love you right behind it. 

 

those achey, lovesick parts of himself can rest, finally. they don’t cry and scream and throw tantrums— it’s just the soft, soft kiss, and jungkook’s content sigh. 

 

indulgences that aren’t indulgences, not anymore. 

 

jimin kisses him with all of himself, for once. for the first time, maybe. and jungkook sinks into it with the same relief. 

 

his heart handed back to him, with apologetic hands. slotted back into his chest, bruised but whole, settled into place by gentle hands, by soft soft love. 

 

“can i say it,” jimin murmurs, when he pulls away. jungkook blinks at him, a little hazy. 

 

“say what,” jungkook asks. a whisper.

 

they both taste like bulgogi, and jimin reeks of bleach. the sun is setting, and jungkook is looking at him like he’s the world. jimin takes a breath, and smiles.

 

“i feel it now,” he says, quiet. “can i say it?”

 

“oh,” jungkook realizes. blushes, a little. “i can’t— can’t say it back.”

 

“i know,” jimin smiles. “doesn’t matter.”

 

jungkook swallows hard, brow pinching a little before it smooths. he’s worried. jimin leans forward again, and kisses him simple, solid. pulls back again. 

 

“okay,” jungkook murmurs.

 

jimin smiles again. it doesn’t hurt. 

 

it feels like relief, it feels like rest. this weight off him, this thing he doesn’t have to carry anymore. 

 

jungkook trusts him but he trusts jungkook right back, and he thinks— we’ll be okay.

 

“i love you,” jimin says. watches jungkook’s pupils dilate, watches his lips twitch up. “i’m in love with you.”

 

jungkook’s blush deepens. “i take it back, you can’t say it.”

 

jimin laughs, reaches up to comb fingers through his hair. “sorry, sorry,” he chuckles, and leans forward to leave a kiss to his forehead, too. 

 

jungkook sighs, eyes sliding closed. “you know i love you too, hyung,” he murmurs, “just not quite the same way. but i promise ‘s just as much.”

 

jimin smiles, fond. “i’m not sure it’s just as much, gguk.”

 

“no, it is,” jungkook insists, frowning. “i promise. tell me how much you love me, i’ll meet you there.”

 

jimin laughs, flustered. “i’m not— i don’t know what you want me to say—”

 

“like, i’ll only ever want you too,” jungkook insists, pouting. “if i’m like, i don’t know, dying or something— i’d wanna call you. same same, hyung, i promise.”

 

jimin clenches his jaw. it’s maybe the wrong time to admit this, but he’s already told jungkook the biggest part of it, so— “i want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he murmurs. “that’s how much. i don’t think it’s all the same, sweetheart.”

 

jungkook stares at him. 

 

“you’re twenty-three,” jungkook tells him. breathless. 

 

jimin laughs, cheeks warm. “i know,” he says. “and i know what i want. do you understand, jungkook? i was willing to love you like that for the rest of my life.”

 

“what if i didn’t—” jungkook is still staring at him. strangled, “what if i dated someone, what if i— moved in with someone—”

 

“i’m always going to love you,” jimin says. “i can’t change that. i’ve tried, trust me. it doesn’t work. whatever it is about you, gguk-ah. my heart can’t let you go.”

 

“hyung,” jungkook breathes. 

 

jimin cards fingers through his hair, and looks at him. looks at him in full, lets his chest swell big with it, lets himself admire and drink it in. he knows jungkook can see it, now. the way he looks. what he’s not holding back anymore. it feels good. 

 

it feels good, when it doesn’t hurt. to love jungkook, even if he’s not getting all of it back. 

 

“you’re—” jungkook blinks. “you’re serious. i’m— okay, yeah, shit, i don’t love you the same amount—”

 

jimin laughs, leans forward to kiss him again. jungkook’s breathless kiss back, his own laughter rising to meet jimin’s. 

 

“it’s okay,” jimin tells him, “it’s really okay, gguk. i know you’re worried about it, but trust me. this is already— more than i could ever ask for, i promise. don’t feel guilty.”

 

“i feel guilty,” jungkook laughs, “how could i not feel guilty?”

 

“jungkook-ah,” jimin smiles. “love makes you stupid. so i’m not hurt, okay? i’m actually really happy, right now. whatever you decide to give me, it’s good enough.”

 

“hyung, that’s so—” jungkook cuts himself off, and then jimin leans forward, leaves a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose as he cries. runs his fingers through jungkook’s hair, slow, slow. kisses his cheeks and tastes the salt of his tears, gentle. 

 

“please don’t feel guilty,” jimin murmurs, thumbing over the tears dripping down his nose. “none of this is you, baby, it’s all me. i don’t want you feeling bad for something that’s not your fault.”

 

“but i hurt you,” jungkook starts, strangled, and jimin shushes him, quiet, leaves a kiss to his eyes squeezed shut, to his brow furrowed.

 

“no, no, sweetheart,” jimin murmurs, “you didn’t. what i felt was on me, not you. it’s not your fault you don’t love me back, i made peace with that a long time ago. it’s me, it’s me. please don’t cry.”

 

“okay,” jungkook sniffles, loud and ugly, “oh, fuck.”

 

jimin laughs, wipes at his cheeks and then stretches across the table to hand him the tissues. watches him straighten up and blow his nose, sigh shaky and tip his head back, close his eyes. 

 

jimin wants to touch him more, now. hug him close, tangle them together. there’s so much he can do now that jungkook knows.

 

“can we lie down,” he asks quietly. 

 

jungkook opens his eyes, looks at him. “lie down?”

 

jimin nods. “i wanna hold you, ‘s that okay?”

 

“yeah,” jungkook sighs, eyes sliding closed again. tired, they’re both tired, and when jimin is tired he wants jungkook. “yeah, let’s—” he yawns, big. “yeah, jesus.”

 

jimin chuckles softly, stands with a scrape of his chair and quickly cleans up the bulgogi before they pad to the bedroom. jungkook slides arms around him as they walk, presses his face to jimin’s shoulder and sways them with each step. 

 

jimin smiles, reaches up to rest his hands over jungkook’s, tip his head back.

 

“jungkook,” he murmurs, “jungkook, thank you.”

 

“for what,” jungkook asks quietly, nudging him forward until they tip onto the bed, crawl under the covers and shuffle up close, jungkook fitting himself in jimin’s arms and tangling them together the way jimin wants. 

 

“saying everything seems really cheesy,” jimin mumbles, shifting to wrap an arm around his neck, pull jungkook to his chest. drops a kiss to his hair, and sighs. “i dunno. this could’ve hurt a lot more, but it didn’t.”

 

“i never wanna hurt you,” jungkook tells him softly. “never, hyung. you don’t deserve to be hurt. ‘specially not by someone you love.”

 

jimin smiles, softly. “i know,” he says. “i trust you won’t.”

 

“okay,” jungkook sighs, quiet. 

 

jimin closes his eyes, and holds the way he wants. jungkook’s fingers curled into his shirt, the soft breaths over his collarbone, jungkook letting them be close. 

 

jungkook’s hands are gentle, now, when they pry open his ribcage and reach inside. pick up his heart, smooth soft touches over the bruises, the ugly tears. hold it for him. jungkook holds his heart for him, and lets him rest.

 

jimin quietly, quietly— takes back his goodbye.

 

jungkook holds his heart, and he says hello again.

 

hellohellohello. he can rest, now. let the worn parts of himself heal. let himself feel everything, feel it all safe. feel it with jungkook right next to him. 

 

“can we sleep,” jungkook whispers. “this was tiring.”

 

the smell of jungkook’s 3-in-1 shampoo, bleach. oranges, sweet and citrus. bulgogi. jimin takes a deep breath, sighs. lets himself relax for maybe the first time in four years.

 

“of course,” he murmurs. “sleep, my love.”

 

jungkook makes a soft sound, nose digging into jimin’s collarbone. 

 

jimin falls asleep. 

they take it slow.

 

jimin sleeps on the couch for a few nights— it’s hard to think about you when you’re like, right next to me, hyung — and jungkook asks for one kiss a day.

 

it’s a little weird, but it all works.

 

jimin is already getting more than he ever thought he would— jungkook shooting him glances, soft things, shy at the corners. that game they used to play, when jungkook would stare blatantly and jimin would pretend not to notice, but softer. 

 

all soft, when jungkook touches his arm and tells him i’ll make dinner tonight, when jungkook leaves a lingering kiss to his knuckles, when jungkook cuddles up to him on the couch and holds his hand.

 

it’s good. it’s all good. jimin doesn’t hurt, anymore, when he looks at jungkook. 

 

jungkook usually asks for his kiss— last one, hyung, promise, you just look nice today— before he leaves for class, like he needs it to get through the day. jimin smiles and gives it to him every time, and he has to keep reminding himself it’s not indulgence, now.

 

it’s not greed, it’s not taking— jungkook wants this just as much. the smiling, chaste kiss by the door, jimin’s hand resting over the small of his back. he wants it just as much.

 

jimin always asks— when jungkook looks at him upside down and giggles, when jungkook cleans up for them both after dinner, when jungkook drives him to his interview and calms him down— always asks, can i say it?

 

and sometimes jungkook says no, but sometimes he says yes— and so jimin tells him i love you, and jungkook does a special kind of bashful smile that jimin wants to memorize. 

 

jungkook has taken to asking, too— when jimin is sighing over his finances and taking naps midday— asks can i say it? and then tells him i love you, we’ll get through this together.  

 

jimin thinks it’s working.

 

he really couldn’t ask for better— what used to feel so, so heavy just feels easy. he’d been ready to live his life with jungkook as a friend, but in this in-between, where jungkook knows how he feels, where jungkook has feelings too— he really couldn’t ask for better.

 

he lets jungkook come to him. lets jungkook be the one to come closer, to ask for more. lets them move at his pace, because jimin has all the patience in the world when it comes to his love, to his jungkook. 

 

so he lets jungkook ask for one kiss a day. sleeps on the couch when jungkook asks him to, and holds back his i-love-you ’s, when jungkook tells him it’s too much, hyung, i’ll feel too guilty not saying it back.  

 

it’s easy. it doesn’t hurt. jimin feels like it should, probably. but it doesn’t.

 

he trusts jungkook. he can tell jungkook was serious, about wanting to love him. sees it— in the long stares. how he’ll watch jimin work, watch him eat, watch him pick at his nails and do nothing in particular. 

 

(privately, jimin thinks that’s how he fell in love with jungkook too.

 

the little moments. watching jungkook duck down to grab his pen off the floor, watching him lap up his melted ice cream falling down the cone, watching him do nothing in particular.

 

just— being, with him. 

 

his heart chose jungkook in little moments. he hopes jungkook’s does the same.)

 

“hyung.”

 

jimin glances over. 

 

a night in, tonight. jungkook flopped onto the couch, head propped up on the armrest, feet in jimin’s lap. jimin still sending out job applications, laptop resting on jungkook’s shins. he raises an eyebrow, nods in a silent go on?

 

jungkook pouts. his eyes still tracking something on his phone, one earbud in. how he frowns, his nose twitches.

 

“can you kiss me more?”

 

jimin blinks. “yeah.”

 

jungkook’s eyes dart to his, curious. “really?”

 

“yeah, of course,” jimin chuckles, “just ask, gguk.”

 

“oh,” jungkook mumbles, ducking his nose into his phone again. “i just thought— i only ever ask you for one but you used to give them to me all the time, kind of.”

 

jimin smiles, fond. “i’m letting you kiss me, gguk. i told you i wanted this going at your speed, right? that applies to kisses too.”

 

“oh,” jungkook frowns. “okay, well. can kisses move at your speed?”

 

jimin snorts. “sure.”

 

so jimin kisses him when he wants, now. murmurs a soft can i kiss you? before jungkook huffs and grabs him, tells him don’t ask, and so he doesn’t. 

 

he’s slowly, slowly shedding the idea that it’s indulgent, that he’s taking something. 

 

kisses jungkook good morning, and savors the shy smile he gets. gives him a peck on the cheek as he makes coffee, presses him against the door before he goes to class. sits jungkook in his lap and then kisses him slow until the sun sets and they forget dinner.

 

jungkook tells him i love you, and i’m not sure which way anymore.  

 

jimin asks can i say it, and when he tells jungkook i love you he gets i love you back. 

 

he keeps them up, that night. tangles them together in the sheets, moves slow and savors it, holds jungkook as close as he can and keeps them there. gives jungkook everything he asks for.

 

lets them revel in it, lets jungkook brand himself to his skin, lets their bodies meld and meld until when they fall asleep— 

 

jimin doesn’t know whether the heart in his chest is his or jungkook’s. 

 

when they wake, jungkook follows him around the apartment and asks him, quietly, if he’s still looking for an apartment to move into. if he’s doing better at his job, if he still needs help.

 

jimin reads right through it, and tells him if you want me to stay here, i will.

 

so even when jimin can pay his full half of the rent, when he could move out and afford a place of his own again, when he goes to work for the first time in a suit and returns after his first day with a theatrical honey, i’m home! and sends jungkook into hysterics— he doesn’t leave.

 

he starts moving his clothes from his suitcase into the dresser, the closet. puts his lotions and face creams into the bathroom drawers, and finally convinces jungkook to buy new shower curtains. 

 

they shop for them together, exchanging soft kisses between conversation— 

 

( “hyung, really,” jungkook sighs, “we’re not getting green shower curtains.”

 

“it matches the tile,” jimin protests, drumming his fingers against jungkook’s shoulders. “it would go well with the cream white we have in there.”

 

“we,” jungkook repeats softly. jimin ducks forward, leaves a kiss to the back of his neck. “i love you. we’re not getting green shower curtains.”

 

jimin rolls his eyes. “fine.” )

 

he buys them a brita filter, goes grocery shopping without jungkook for the first time and nearly has a breakdown in the vegetable aisle and calls jungkook, near-tears over broccoli.

 

they slow-dance in the kitchen together, fall off the couch laughing, and when jungkook kisses him goodnight he tells him, i love you in the right way.

 

jimin smiles. 

 

the life he’s always wanted, jungkook by his side. so much ahead of them. all of it safe, all of it soft, soft. it’s everything.

 

jungkook wrapped up neatly in his heartstrings, hands wrapped warm around his heart. holding it for him, holding it gentle. jimin doesn’t need to rest anymore, the lovesick parts of himself sated and dizzied with happiness, but jungkook holds him anyway.

 

jimin has rested, has healed. he’s in jungkook’s heart too. they belong to each other, and when jimin asks it’s not greed. it’s not ugly. it’s not taking.  

 

the thrum under his skin. jungkook feels it too.

 

can i say it, jimin asks, but there’s no need to. jungkook says yes anyway, and jimin presses the words to his lips. falls asleep with his body against jungkook’s, chest to chest. hearts beating in time, beating safe and soft next to each other.

 

when he places his toothbrush next to jungkook’s, it doesn’t ache. 

Notes:

i hope you enjoyed :))

come find me on twt @ garconlune !