Work Text:
eat well today!!
jimin stares at it. he’d fallen asleep on the couch again last night, and he was expecting it but at the same time he really wasn’t.
jungkook’s scrawled handwriting, messy because it’s pen to skin, telling him eat well today!!
he could text, he could write the words on paper instead of on the inside of jimin’s wrist. but no, jungkook chooses to leave his encouragements on his body, so that when jimin walks, talks, works— he can never forget it.
eat well today!!
jimin sighs. jungkook left early again, to go help yoongi work on his album— and so jimin woke up with a crick in his neck and jungkook’s words on his skin, late for class.
sometimes it’s reminders to eat, but sometimes, sometimes. when they both fall asleep, curled into each other on the couch— jungkook tucked neatly between jimin’s arms and legs, making himself small, his hair tickling at jimin’s chin— jimin will wake up to a soft i love you, hyung drawn into his wrist.
he’s woken up, sometimes, while jungkook does it. he’ll stretch a little too far and tug at jimin’s arm wrapped around his middle, and jimin will blink his eyes open just in time to feel the drag of ballpoint pen into his skin.
he can feel the i love you. feel it.
the way jungkook takes his time to get every letter right, the slow carve of the pen into the tendons, muscle of his arm, his hand. it hurts, a little bit. love always does. but jungkook writes it— i love you.
and then writes it again, sometimes.
(sometimes.)
he’ll scrawl his quiet i love you into the inside of jimin’s wrist. smooth over it with a thumb, and then write i love you into his palm.
two, because one wasn’t enough.
and sometimes— sometimes sometimes sometimes— jungkook won’t smooth over the skin, red and stinging with pen, with his thumb. no, sometimes, he’ll crane his neck, lift jimin’s hand gentle, and kiss.
press his lips to i love you, and leave another one, softer, softer, behind.
like there’s no other way for him to say it. there probably isn’t— jimin knows this. jimin is more than happy to laugh and giggle and murmur and whisper his i-love-you’ s, but jungkook gets shy, gets in his own head. and so instead he leaves them this way.
jimin sighs.
eat well today!!
he’d skipped out on dinner with hoseok and namjoon last night in favor of getting his work done, and when jungkook came home and saw the kitchen clean, he’d quietly made jimin a plate and left it out for him before disappearing into his room.
jimin had almost cried over it— tired and oversensitive after a long day and an even longer night of work.
eat well today!!
two exclamation marks, because one wasn’t enough. two i-love-you’ s, two exclamation marks.
jimin loves loves loves jungkook, loves him, and he’s not even sure where that love is anymore. if it’s in his heart— it doesn’t feel like it is, anymore.
because it’s in his hand when jungkook holds it, in his hair when jungkook cards his fingers through, in his stomach when jungkook pats palms against his sweater and says eat dinner with me today.
it’s in his throat, when his breath catches as jungkook leans close and leaves a kiss to his cheek.
in his ears, when jungkook leans in and whispers can we please go home, this is too loud, and jimin leads him out of the bar and texts namjoon an excuse.
he thinks the love might only be in his heart when jungkook falls asleep on his chest and he feels love thrum and pulse, feels it grow— lovelovelove, when jungkook rests his head on jimin’s chest, and falls asleep.
jimin eats well, today.
he grabs leftovers from the fridge and scarfs them down as he gets ready for class, hops into his jeans with his mouth full of jungkook’s japchae, cold from the fridge but somehow still good— and then he grabs a few protein bars and eats those on the way to class. eats them in class, as he takes notes.
he nearly forgets about lunch, but when he pulls out his phone to text hoseok for updates about the dance showcase, what room is free tonight for practice— jungkook smiles eat well today!! at him from his wrist, and he steps into a cafe to grab a quick meal.
he drops by yoongi’s studio between classes, hair damp with rain and hoodie spotted dark with water— and jungkook grins, slings an arm around his shoulders and then they show him what they’ve been working on.
it’s his love, that thrums under his skin, but it’s jungkook’s too.
he thinks jungkook must give him some of it, every time he writes those reminders on his body— eat well, study hard, i love you, text your mom back! — he thinks jungkook gives him some of his love, lets it thrum beside jimin’s.
it’s both of them, that lovelovelove that runs up to meet jungkook’s fingertips as they rest over jimin’s palm. as jungkook links their hands, absent, thoughtless, a million million times— as they all squeeze together at yoongi’s computer and jimin marvels at the new track.
then the love surges up to his neck, when jungkook leans into him and leaves his laugh there—
“what,” jimin grins, “all i’m saying is, that synth sounds a little like a fart, just move it up an octave—”
“hyung,” jungkook laughs, and then the love moves from his neck to his wrist, where jungkook grabs him, “hyung, yoongi spent like, thirty minutes fiddling with that synth, don’t insult his work—”
“no, it’s fine,” yoongi chuckles, eyes darting over the screen as he brings up the audio interface, nose twitching, “it’s good to get an outside opinion, jungkookie, don’t bite his head off just yet.”
“aw,” jungkook pouts, turning away from him to drape himself over yoongi instead. “not yet?”
jimin grins, watching him like this.
he thinks he likes jungkook in yoongi’s studio the most, the way he gets puppy-excited. how he forgets his weight and size and ends up crushing yoongi like this in his chair, over-eager but very, very adorable.
“not yet,” yoongi nods, strained under jungkook’s weight. “did you eat rocks for lunch?”
“no,” jungkook grumbles, pulling off him with another pout. “did you eat— air, for lunch? you need to work out more, so i can crush you less.”
“agreed,” jimin nods primly, “i can handle him just fine, yoongi-hyung, i think this is a you problem.”
they both watch yoongi fiddle with the synth until jimin tells him it’s less fart-y and more synth-y, and then jimin sits back and watches them work, for a bit. he has to leave soon, but this is nice— yoongi’s studio is a safe space for all of them, he thinks.
small but cozy, simple decorations and music pumping through the speakers at all times. yoongi makes sure to keep it smelling fresh, and leaves out tissues, snacks by the couch they all pile onto sometimes, to watch him work.
jimin really likes it in here, and he knows jungkook does too. him and yoongi spend the most time in here out of all of them, and jungkook knows his way around it well.
jungkook knows his way around yoongi well, jimin thinks, as he watches him hook a chin over yoongi’s shoulder and blow cool air on his jaw until yoongi wrinkles his nose and pays attention to him.
that, too. jungkook loves him, gives him little drops of it on his skin, lets his love hum in harmony along with jimin’s— but jimin’s love is different.
not deeper, not more. just different.
he sees it, feels it. the way jungkook looks at him. it’s not quite the same.
because when jimin looks at jungkook, it feels like dance. it feels like he’s been dancing for hours, like his thighs and arms and back are sore and aching with it, like he’s beat down and tired and all he wants to do is rest— and when jungkook looks back at him, he dances again easy easy.
when he looks at jungkook, the love has nowhere to go, and so it goes there— to the air between them, it goes to the way jimin tucks his hands under his thighs so he doesn’t reach.
he’s not sure jungkook looks at him the same.
he’s not sure jungkook feels the same kind of love, the kind that has him weeping in the shower with it— with the force of it, the knowledge that he wants more, that if they were torn apart he would spend his life finding jungkook again— and the knowledge that he wants to kiss jungkook but jungkook doesn’t want to kiss him back.
he’s pretty sure jungkook has a crush on yoongi.
he’s bad at hiding it, the way he gets wide-eyed and hangs off him, rambles on about what they did at the studio today and drops a yoongi-hyung every sentence.
jimin is happy for him. honestly.
yoongi is a great guy, and jimin had his fair share of not-friends feelings for him when he was in his freshman year.
yoongi is solid, he’s kind, and he has infinite patience on top of a giant soft spot for the youngest in their group— calls jungkook my little prince, and tells him if he hates studying he can come make music in the studio instead.
correction: jimin wants to be happy for him.
wants it very much. because jungkook doesn’t belong to him, and neither do jungkook’s feelings.
he wants jungkook to be happy, wants him to be loved the way he deserves. jimin knows he could do it. knows he could give jungkook that, but knows, too, that it only works if jungkook wants it.
so, so. jimin wants to be happy for him.
but, ah. it’s a little difficult. when they love each other differently, when jimin has to sit and watch jungkook’s big dumb smile when yoongi ruffles his hair, when jimin can come home with smudged lipstick and reeking of someone else’s cologne and jungkook won’t bat an eye.
“hyung.”
jimin snaps out of it. jungkook is done hanging off yoongi, now, has instead rolled his chair over and he’s leaning forward, hands on jimin’s knees, eyes huge and right in jimin’s face.
“you’re supposed to be in class.”
jimin stares. “i am?”
jungkook nods, grave. “yes. it’s almost 3:30, and you’re definitely not a fifteen minute walk from campus right now.”
“oh,” jimin says. he turns, catches the time in the corner of yoongi’s computer screen. his eyebrows shoot up— “shit.”
jungkook’s grin is blinding, and jimin feels his love float in the air between them, feels it thrum in his knees where jungkook’s hands rest.
“run,” jungkook tells him, voice hushed, urgent. “ run, hyung, i believe in you—”
jimin laughs, shoves at him. “shut up, i’ll just be late,” he chuckles, standing to grab his bag, pausing to fix his hair in the warped metal of yoongi’s producer plaque (they all made fun of him for it but then jungkook called him suga-hyung and they all refused to call him anything else for a good year).
“there’s an umbrella by the door,” yoongi shoots over his shoulder, mouse clicking away on the computer again. “it’s still raining, i think.”
jimin pulls out his phone, shoots a quick glance at the weather, and grabs the umbrella. “thanks,” he sighs, hiking his backpack up. “ggukie, are you staying here till dance practice or am i driving us both there?”
jungkook pouts, climbs up on his chair and drapes himself over it— jimin’s hands twitch by his sides, when he sees the way the chair dips, rolls forward, jungkook’s arms dangling precariously off the edge—
“can you drive us both there? i wanna see you more before you abandon me.”
jimin laughs.
he’s spending a few weeks abroad in japan— an art program he got into and couldn’t turn down, and he’s leaving after the showcase at the end of the month.
jungkook has been nothing but bummed about it.
following him to dance practice, walking him home from class, dragging him out to lunch. jimin is enjoying it thoroughly, both because he loves jungkook different but also because he’ll miss him too, he wants to see him more too.
“sure,” jimin smiles, stepping forward to slide a hand into his hair, tip his head up. “don’t worry, i need to fill up on my jungkookie before i leave too.”
jungkook grins, blush finding his cheeks that pretty pink jimin likes.
“kiss?”
jimin rolls his eyes.
jungkook fell and hit his head, a while ago— had a concussion and a nasty bruise, and jimin spent a good three weeks over-worrying, asking him how’re you feeling? okay? and lifting his bangs to frown at the mottled purple and green.
left his i-hope-you’re-okay ’s to jungkook’s forehead in kisses, because back then he choked with it, with how different his love was— but jungkook had smiled, melted under them.
so now jungkook pretends that his head still hurts, sometimes, and jimin indulges him.
he leans close, and presses a kiss to jungkook’s forehead. pulls back, tips his head up again. jungkook lets him, and jimin shoots him another smile. it would be so easy, right now, to duck down and kiss his lips, too.
jimin has thought about it so many times— chancing it, risking it, giving in.
jungkook stepping out of the shower still humming quietly, hair dripping in his eyes, lips pink and skin warm— jungkook rolling over in bed and yawning, eyes closed as he falls back asleep, lips chapped and hair tickling his eyelashes— jungkook teasing him as they cook dinner, hips swaying as he dances backwards, goofy, lips pulled up in a smile and a bit of sauce still lingering at the corner of his mouth.
so many times.
“hyung?”
jimin snaps out of it again. jungkook leaning up with a bratty smile, fingers drumming against his sides, warm.
“gotta go,” jungkook reminds him, and he’s still teasing, but his voice is soft. “don’t wanna be late.”
“right,” jimin says, and ruffles his hair one last time before he pulls back.
he eyes jungkook, slumped down on the chair and cheek smushed against his arm as he waves, and jimin swears for a second he’s as wide-eyed as he is when he looks at yoongi— “bye, ggukie.”
“byeeeeee,” jungkook draws out the word, waves harder, “hyung.”
jimin chuckles, shoots him another smile, and leaves.
thread > meow
meow 5:24 pm
> now what the hell was that
min
> ???
meow
> you must be out of class by now right
> cause jungkook just left
> what the Hell was that
min
> what was what???
> and yeah im out of class, wdym he left i thought i was picking him up from your studio
meow
> oh no you better tell him that cause he left like 5 mins ago to go home
min
> oh my godd okay wait
thread > gguk
min
> go back to the studio!!! im omw!!!!!!
gguk
> WHAT
> i thought you were going home/????
> omg turning around now
min
> no im picking you up from there!!!
> i’ll be there in like, 10 mins??
> GO BACK
gguk
> IM GOING
thread > meow
min
> ok
> what are you talking about??
meow
> that little Display with jungkook, earlier
> did something happen?
min
> what display
> did i miss something??
meow
> park jimin. when you said goodbye
> i thought i was going to rip my eyes out with how lovey dovey it was
min
> omg
> thats ??? normal???
> have you never seen it before or something
> i mean hes like, clingier than normal cause im leaving for japan soon
meow
> in two weeks.
min
> SOON
> idk what to tell you if you dont kiss ur friends on the forehead when you say goodbye thats a you problem
meow
> you absolute fucking idiot
min
> >:(
> dont call me an idiot thats so mean of you
meow
> …… anyway
> let me know when you guys do finally make out and i’ll make sure to give my congrats
min
> lmaoo shut up
> also !! i didnt get to say this earlier but the album sounds great hyung
meow
> thank you :]
> im hoping once i release this i might be able to get picked up by a label and like, whats the word. get paid for my music
> instead of just producing for other people
min
> i hope so too !!!!!!!!!
> you deserve it hyung really
meow
> :]
> thank you jimin
> also, one last question before i go
min
> yeah
meow
> is my name still meow in your phone
min
> no lol
meow
> oh ok great
they’re at dance practice.
jungkook is sitting behind them, legs flopped out, head ducked into his homework. there’s really no reason for him to be here, other than to hand jimin water when they take breaks and shoot him shy smiles every now and then.
but jimin knows the way jungkook gets, whenever either of them has to go away for a while.
jungkook had to spend a week at home after his mother’s hip surgery and it was the same way, too, the clinginess. jimin, honestly, could ask for nothing more. loves having jungkook here, loves having him close.
he’s pretty sure it gives him a boost during practice, gives him the energy to keep giving his all even when he’s run out.
“one more time, guys,” pants hoseok, hands on his hips. “taetae, make sure you practice the footwork on your own time, we really need to be in sync—”
“i know,” taehyung sighs, eyeing himself in the mirror. “i’ll stay late today, i think.”
“good,” hoseok nods, slapping his shoulder, squeezing. “don’t work too hard, though.”
“mm,” taehyung hums, preoccupied.
jimin watches, catches his breath. his eyes dart to jungkook through the mirror, more on instinct than anything. he’s still got his pen moving over paper, pout visible over the brim of his bucket hat as he writes.
then jungkook looks up— just a glance, head jerking up, eyes darting to jimin’s hands, his shoulders— and then looks down again.
jimin stares, for a second. and then watches jungkook pause, and look up again slower. tentative.
their eyes lock through the mirror, and it takes jimin a second to register at all. that jungkook had been shooting him small glances, just checking in— just to look.
that jungkook wasn’t expecting to be caught, in his glances.
jimin’s skin burns with it, all of a sudden, the knowledge that jungkook’s eyes have lingered over his hands, waist, shoulders, neck.
jungkook blinks hard— his eyes are yoongi-wide, when he looks, before he ducks down again.
jimin eyes the pink of his ears, how he flips through the pages of his book like he’s looking for something, his hard swallow.
he knows jungkook gets flustered easily, but still.
“alright,” hoseok calls, starting the music again, settling them back into formation, “last time, guys. good work today.”
jimin sighs, shoots a last glance at jungkook— pink pink pink ears, flustered— before he launches back into the choreography.
the song hoseok chose is really nice, honestly. a slow, easy groove— something a little sensual, but undeniably fun at the same time. he rolls his body, sways backward, head bobbing to the beat as he eyes himself in the mirror.
he knows he’s got this choreography down, so he lets himself relax a little.
there’s a moment— when he catches jungkook looking again. the lock of their eyes, brief, but this time, this time.
jungkook doesn’t look away.
instead, jimin watches, bewildered, as jungkook’s eyes travel down the line of his body, trace the dip of his back and waist, shirt stuck to his skin with sweat, linger over the slight roll of his hips before they continue their path down to the swell of his thighs.
and then— jungkook meets his eyes again.
jimin stares.
he’s caught jungkook checking him out once or twice before (the beach, the pool) and never really thought anything of it— but this, this obvious and measured way he let his gaze drag over jimin’s body.
it feels like jungkook’s pen to his skin, the love that’s quieter than words, that jungkook can’t bring himself to say out loud.
reminders on his skin.
on his skin here, too— the weight of jungkook’s blatant stare.
he feels it drag up his body again, even when he tears his eyes away— feels jungkook’s gaze move with him as he rolls his hips forward, as he slides a hand down his chest and then drags it across his thigh, as he tips his head back and sweat trickles down his neck.
it’s like jungkook is right behind him.
it’s like his hands are the ones dragging down his chest, like his hands are the ones guiding his hips forward, like those hands are on his skin, on his skin, on his skin.
jungkook wants him.
jimin doesn’t know what to do. has no idea why now, of all times— why jungkook chose this dance practice, this last run-through of the choreography, to tell him that. to catch his eye in the mirror, and then press the i want you into his sweaty skin.
the song comes to an end and jimin pretends he has no idea.
he steps away from the group, watches hoseok go through the footwork with taehyung again, sighs. catches his breath and wipes at his face with his shirt, blinking hard.
jimin is still burning with it.
when he shoots a cautious glance over, jungkook is ducked into his work again. so jimin lets himself take a moment— breathes slow and sits down, yawns and fans himself a little.
he’s still tired, even with the revelation that jungkook, his jungkook, wants— wants. he can let himself think about it later.
“hyung.”
jimin startles.
the hand on his neck, massaging slow. fingers digging into the tense muscle, and the warmth of jungkook standing right behind him, leaning down.
“tired?”
jimin blinks hard.
he knew jungkook was bad at being subtle, but wow.
“yeah,” he hums, eyes sliding closed again. the massage is nice, even if it burns his skin, cheeks warm with the memory of those eyes, the want so blatant in them.
jungkook has always been like that. if he wants he wants, and when he wants he does. jimin wonders when jungkook will do. when he’ll tell jimin i want you in words. when he’ll touch with hands instead of eyes.
“i can drive home,” jungkook offers.
jimin nods, mute, and jungkook chuckles from above him. squeezes the back of his neck and then there are hands on his shoulders, massaging too. swaying him forward a little.
jimin sighs. jungkook is good with his hands, strong, and jimin just lets it happen.
there are worse things in the world than this, honestly.
jungkook’s hands working out the knots in his shoulders with i-want-you still on his skin, with hoseok’s laugh echoing off the walls and his body so, so tired even as he burns with it.
there are worse things.
jungkook takes them home, and reaches across the console to tangle their hands together in jimin’s lap. he sings along to the music, and when jimin looks over—
maybe it’s just that he’s tired. maybe it’s just that jungkook is always prettier at night, that the console lights him jimin’s favorite shade of blue. maybe it’s his voice, soft and sweet in the silence of the car. maybe it’s a lot of things.
but suddenly jimin’s different love needs somewhere to go.
he wants to leave his love on jungkook’s skin, too. wants to cut himself open and bleed right into jungkook’s veins, until his different love is the same as jungkook’s.
until when jungkook touches him, and their loves run parallel, they turn and twist and then meld into one.
it burns.
his love has never burned before, but knowing the way jungkook wants him— it burns in response.
that ache, now that he knows. now that he knows he could have a little bit of what he wants.
jimin looks down at their hands— jungkook’s hands, the bone, the pretty pretty blue tracing down his skin, the inked heart between his knuckles.
( “hyung! hyung, look—”
jimin laughs, takes jungkook’s hand when it’s offered to him and holds it up, makes like an archaeologist and frowns importantly at it, examines it. jungkook laughing, hand shaking with his mirth as he giggles—
“what is it,” jimin finally says, because it’s just a small heart, inked to the webbed skin between his fingers.
“it’s for you,” jungkook tells him, surging forward to crush him in a hug. which is good, because then jungkook doesn’t see the plain surprise on jimin’s face when he hears that— “it’s for you, hyung. i wanted my first tattoo to mean something.”
“why did i get a heart,” jimin asks, smiling. a little strained, when he speaks.
“cause i love you,” jungkook gapes, pulling back, “obviously. and also i saw you doodling some on your notes and i took it to the artist. this is your handwriting, hyung, look—” )
jimin brings his hand up, and places a kiss to his knuckles.
the car swerves.
jimin laughs, and looks over at him.
“sorry,” jungkook laughs, bright, flustered. ears so pink jimin can see it, even in this dim light.
jimin grins.
his silent iloveyou on jungkook’s skin. his different love.
“jungkook,” jimin says.
jungkook looks at him, and lingers as long as he can linger before he has to look at the road again.
“i’m going to miss you.”
he loves the way jungkook smiles, whenever he says things like this. saves his words for moments like these— saves i love you, saves i’m proud of you— for moments when he can savor it.
jungkook is so beautiful, under the flickering streetlights.
he’s beautiful with his bucket hat shoved low over his eyes and the acne dotting his chin, with his lips chapped and his eyes shining so, so bright as he shoots glances over, like he can’t help himself.
how he smiles, smiles, smiles— the happiness bursting out of him, that shy little ask in how he bites it back, like he doesn’t quite believe it, that silent really? you’ll really miss me? in how he tries desperately to hold back his smile and then lets it burst out anyway.
jimin laughs, leans forward. “i’ll miss you,” he repeats, and leaves another iloveyou to jungkook’s shoulder through the fabric of his hoodie, smiling too. “you know i will.”
his love drifting in the air between them, thrumming under his skin where jungkook touches him.
the car is filled with it, that sweet sweet love, jungkook’s and jimin’s, both of them. jimin burns with it, he’s alive, and he feels like shouting it.
jungkook smiles at him and he feels like shouting it.
“hyung,” jungkook says as he bites his bottom lip, watches the road. “i’ll miss you too. you’ll— you’ll call, right? we can eat together, and— and you’ll show me what you’re working on?”
“of course,” jimin chuckles. “of course, gguk-ah.”
jungkook’s smile, shy around the edges. “and— and, taehyung’s talking about flying out to see you after a couple weeks. should i—”
“yes,” jimin laughs, “are you kidding me, yes, i’d love if you came.”
jungkook grins, wide.
jimin wants to kiss him. he’s sweaty, he smells terrible, and he’s pretty sure jungkook would push him away. he wants to kiss him anyway.
he lets his eyes drift, a little, to jungkook’s smile wide and his cheeks that pretty pink jimin likes. jungkook’s profile outlined in gentle yellows and blues, buildings blurring by outside.
jimin loves him.
“i love you,” he says.
jungkook’s soft smile.
“you’re okay, i guess,” jungkook says, and waits for jimin’s laugh before he squeezes his hand. “i love you too.”
jimin grins.
his different, different love— running just as deep as jungkook’s.
it needs somewhere to go and so he spends the ride home memorizing jungkook’s knuckles with his mouth, with his lips. memorizing the salt of his skin, the bump of the cut on his index finger.
leaves kiss after kiss to each of his knuckles, to the line of tendons stretching down his hand, to the bone of his wrist.
iloveyou, he presses to jungkook’s thumb, to where the bone juts out as it meets his wrist.
iloveyou, he presses to the heart between his fingers, faded a little with time.
jungkook doesn’t swerve the car but he flusters just as much— his cheeks that special jimin-pink, smile bit-back and somewhere between shy and dazed, eyes a little glossy when jimin looks up at him for the first time in a while.
“got a thing for my hands?” jungkook asks, when they’re close to home, when jungkook will have to take his hand away to park the car and get out.
he’s trying to play it cool, but then jimin places another kiss to the inside of his wrist, iloveyou, and his blush deepens, his fingers twitch with it.
jimin smiles against his skin, and lets jungkook’s hand rest in his lap again.
he imagines he can see them, the iloveyou ’s on his skin. his hand littered with invisible tattoos, now, jimin’s love that needed somewhere to go.
he slides his fingers between jungkook’s, and when their palms press together, his different love thrums in harmony with jungkook’s— iloveyou pressed to iloveyou.
“no,” jimin hums, “i have a thing for kissing you.”
jungkook chokes on nothing, and jimin laughs at the way he coughs, eyes watering. he can make jokes like these— cheeky, a little over the line— because his love burns now, because it needs somewhere to go.
the way jungkook looked, the way he didn’t look away.
when they get home he steps into the shower and stays there for a while. lets the water wash him of it, the ghost of jungkook’s stare. turns the temperature to cool and lets the water cleanse, because if he didn’t he’d fall asleep with jungkook’s hands on his waist, his hips, his chest, his thighs.
when he steps out of the shower, drowning in one of jungkook’s cable-knit sweaters and his favorite pair of soft yellow shorts, hair damp and tickling his forehead— jungkook is asleep on the couch.
jimin smiles.
he disappears into the kitchen for a second, to grab a snack and a pen, and then pads toward jungkook, and sits in front of him, on the floor.
jungkook is pretty, asleep. softer, somehow.
younger and unguarded, the way he relaxes. his cheek smushed uncomfortably into his arm, eyelashes fluttering and his entire body melting into the couch, dip of his waist outlined where his shirt’s hiked up.
jimin reaches up, and grabs his hand. turns it out, a little, and rests the pen to his wrist. looks up at him.
he’s never done this before. he’s never left a note back.
but this, this.
jungkook asleep, sleeping pretty. in the home they share, the apartment they got together on what was basically a whim and adrenaline, when they got drunk in jungkook’s freshman year and shouted i want to live with you at each other— and then followed through.
it’s served them well, though.
jimin thinks that it might be the reason he fell in love. seeing jungkook in moments like these.
moments he knows are rare, for others. it’s rare, for taehyung or hoseok or namjoon to see him like this.
to see him— blearily making himself coffee, eyes puffy and lips in a pout, hair sticking up at the back and hands clumsy as he pours grounds into the machine.
to see him— brushing his teeth before bed, eyelids heavy and yawning around the toothbrush, leaning on the sink like he’ll fall asleep on his feet if he’s not careful.
there’s something, in the way he sees jungkook in and around sleep.
it has the love, the ache, the burn inside him— needing somewhere to go. somewhere that isn’t the air, that isn’t his hand, his arm, his chest.
so he leans forward, and kisses jungkook’s wrist. leaves a line of soft iloveyou ’s up his forearm, and then cranes his neck forward— closes his eyes, and leaves a gentle, trembling iloveyou to the bridge of his nose.
jungkook sighs, soft.
his fingers twitch— stretch out, reach for something. relax again.
jimin smiles.
his love needs somewhere to go, needs a place to live. he thinks jungkook’s might, too.
jimin feels it so much, feels it all the time— when jungkook laughs, when he texts him look at this rock i found!, when he climbs into jimin’s bed at night after a long day and holds him close.
he would give jungkook everything. would give jungkook every part of himself.
if jungkook asked— he’d reach a hand into his chest and give jungkook his heart, his lungs, his stomach and liver. he’d pick apart the bones of his chest and give jungkook his ribs.
he grabs the pen, and writes.
“i’m getting it tattooed.”
jimin glances up.
they’re on skype together— keeping each other company, really, more than talking.
jimin’s been in japan for a week and only cried about missing home once, which he thinks is pretty good. but he missed jungkook tonight, and so they called.
“getting what tattooed,” jimin asks.
he’s in bed, propped up on a mess of blankets and pillows, watching jungkook play animal crossing. it almost feels like they’re together, almost— the way jungkook lies with him, chin propped up on a pillow as he wrinkles his nose and plays, eyes trained on his switch.
jungkook shoots him a smile, eyes wide and playful, before he sets the game aside and rolls over, a little, shuffles closer and adjusts the camera down and then pulls up his hoodie sleeve.
“ i don’t think you can ever understand how much i love you, jeon jungkook ,” he says, as jimin reads the words he left behind on jungkook’s skin, that night.
jimin stares.
“do you not take showers,” he asks, a little breathless, and jungkook laughs.
jimin smiles back, on instinct more than anything, but mostly he just thinks of jungkook wanting those words on him for- ever, of wanting jimin’s words, jimin’s love, on his skin. on his skin his skin his skin, i love you on him in ink. in ink.
“really?” jimin asks, quieter.
“yeah, really,” jungkook smiles. “i do take showers, don’t worry, i was just careful. it’s pretty faded, but my appointment is in a couple days so it should be fine. my artist is jus’ gonna trace over it.”
“that’s two tattoos,” jimin says, blinking hard.
like one isn’t enough. two i-love-you ’s scrawled into his skin, two exclamation marks.
jungkook seems to catch the breathlessness, the quiet words, and leans into the camera.
he looks cozy— in his white short-sleeve and a pair of jimin’s gym shorts, curled up in his bed. in jimin’s, because he’d threatened to sleep in jimin’s room if he missed him too much and now it seems he’s followed through.
“yeah, two,” jungkook says, quieter too. his smile reaches the corners of his eyes, scrunches them up the way his nose scrunches, and jimin swallows hard. “you’re extra special, hyung. it’s not too much, is it?”
“too much?” jimin asks.
“like,” jungkook frowns, a little, “you’re not uncomfortable, right? it’s still your words, so i won’t—”
“i’m not,” jimin cuts in, blinking hard, “not at all. just really, um.”
it bursts from him. that love, it needs somewhere to go— it buzzes under every inch of his skin, burns burns burns under his nails, his teeth, in his bones and his skull. he wants to rip it all out of him, beautiful and bloodied, and hand it over.
show jungkook— this is what you do to me. he wants to give it to jungkook.
he aches to taste the salty skin of his knuckles again, to leave a kiss to the inked heart that’s his, to write out every single thought he can’t say in fading ballpoint pen on jungkook’s skin.
“hyung?”
jimin blinks hard, and clears his throat. “yeah.”
jungkook chuckles. “speechless?”
jimin wrinkles his nose. “fuck off. i’m allowed to be a little flattered. do you have tattoos for all your friends?”
“mm, i have a music note for yoongi,” jungkook says. oh, jimin remembers, right. “and i have a sunflower for ‘seok. i wanna get one for everyone, eventually.”
“that’s cute,” jimin hums. “any ideas?”
jungkook spends a while rambling about the tattoos he wants, and jimin listens. lies on his back, eventually, and traces the lines of the ceiling while he lets himself be lulled by jungkook’s voice, his little giggles, how the smile creeps in on certain words.
eventually the night mellows out and jimin ends up struggling to stay awake, watching jungkook pout and play animal crossing.
he still has jungkook’s words scrawled down both his forearms, his hands. jungkook grabbed him the day before he left and said hyung, i have to make up for like, a year of not writing stuff!! — and so now he has a million little messages on his skin.
the i love you!! on his palm, that’s fading too too fast.
the make sure you eat dinner wrapped like a bracelet around his wrist.
the big big heart drawn crooked on the back of his hand, the little smiley faces doodled between his knuckles.
iloveyou , scribbled in a line on his index. iloveyou , curved along the veins on the inside of his wrist, iloveyou scrawled everywhere and scrawled thoughtless on his skin.
he thinks jungkook’s love must need somewhere to go, too. even if it’s different.
jimin’s love is different, but they love each other the same. jimin’s kisses, iloveyou to his knuckles, and jungkook’s iloveyou to every inch of his arm, wrist and hand.
they love each other the same.
eventually jungkook catches him yawning, and insists on hanging up.
so jimin lets him, murmurs soft goodbyes and waves to him, tells him don’t miss me too much and watches jungkook’s soft smile, the one he seems to save for jimin in moments like these.
jimin falls asleep, that way. rereading the countless iloveyou ’s on his arm, the ink on his skin. trying to memorize them— the way the pen dug into his skin at the end of eat dinner, the way jungkook had smoothed over each one with a gentle thumb, had left a kiss on his skin too, if jimin complained that the pen hurt as he wrote.
jungkook’s love kept close to him this way, with ballpoint pen and the memory of jungkook’s giggles as he wrote them— how he leaned close, how his hair tickled jimin’s chin as he ducked down.
jimin misses home, but he mostly misses jungkook.
misses having the love out of him— giving it somewhere to go, even if it isn’t into jungkook. misses the way he thrummed, when jungkook touched him.
it’s all inside now, it all has to stay inside.
so jimin closes his eyes, and rolls onto his back. tries to pretend. jungkook next to him, arms flopped out.
maybe one is resting over jimin’s stomach, maybe it’s around his shoulders. he’d smell like shampoo, probably. a little bit like sweat, and he’d smell, too, like the dinner they ate.
he’d be quiet, because he’s had a long day today. maybe he’d be looking at jimin, obvious the way he always is, maybe he wouldn’t.
they wouldn’t talk— it’d just be the bed dipped next to him, and jungkook’s soft breaths barely audible over the silence.
the lights dim, jungkook’s weight and warmth next to him.
jimin closes his eyes and pretends, pretends. he misses it, and so he pretends.
jungkook, jungkook, jungkook.
hands in his shirt, cupping his jaw, sliding into his hair. hands on his skin, around his waist, patting soft encouragements into his stomach.
jungkook’s head on his chest. the lovelovelove humming away in his heart.
it fills the room, fills it sweet.
jimin breathes, breathes. he swears he must breathe it back in, and when he does— it smells like jungkook’s shampoo, like his sweat and like the dinner they would’ve eaten together.
jimin sighs, slow.
“i love you.”
he says the words to no one, because it needs somewhere to go. whispers it, whispers—
“i love you, i love you, i love you,” he murmurs, breathing slow. “jeon jungkook. jungkook.”
like it’s a prayer, like the world is dying and these are the last words he’ll ever say.
“jungkook,” he whispers. “jungkook.”
he falls asleep with jungkook on his tongue, with love running like lightning through the air he breathes. tears wetting his cheeks, the love that had to come out, that had to had to had to.
he falls asleep and dreams of hands on his skin.
of hands pushing up his chest, smooth, warm, gentle. of palms on his jaw, of fingers brushing over his cheeks, his eyelids.
of hands wrapped around his shoulders, sliding down his arms. hands curling around his hips, his thighs.
reverent, a prayer too. worship.
hands, hands, hands. on his skin.
jungkook’s love, running beside his, lightning in the air. maybe jimin is on his tongue, too. maybe there are whispered iloveyou ’s in the emptiness of his room in seoul, too.
maybe jungkook is asleep in jimin’s bed and giving his love into nothing, because it needs somewhere to go that isn’t inside.
jimin falls asleep and dreams of hands on his skin.
“hi.”
jimin is breathless.
jungkook is in japan, now, he promised to call as soon as he landed and he’s calling now, which means jimin is bouncing on the balls of his feet at the entrance to arrivals, eyes scanning the crowd fruitlessly because jungkook is definitely still in the plane.
“hi,” jimin replies, delayed. “hi, how was the flight?”
“short,” jungkook chuckles. “um— we’re just waiting for the okay to stand up ‘n grab our stuff, right now. i think we’re like— we’re not moving, anymore, so it should be any second now. did you eat?”
“yeah,” jimin nods, fingers still greasy with the sandwich he grabbed on the way here. “did they give you anything on the flight or should i plan on taking you somewhere once you’re through security?”
“mm, they gave us like, chips, ” jungkook grumbles. “but yeah, yes, please. take me somewhere— shut up, tae— take us somewhere once we’re through security.”
jimin laughs.
“hi,” comes tae’s voice through the receiver. “it’s fucking unbelievable, how i third-wheel around you two. nobody asked if i ate.”
jimin snorts. “did you eat, tae?”
“ yes, ” taehyung grumbles, “i brought snacks and split them with jungkookie, because i’m an amazing friend. where are you taking the both of us once we’re out of the airport?”
“there’s a really good tonkatsu place i found the other day,” jimin hums, eyes still darting over the crowd even though he knows full well they’re sitting in the plane. “we can go there. and— just making sure, tae, you’re fine taking the couch?”
“yeah, i don’t wanna be in a bed with you guys,” taehyung snorts. “and i don’t wanna share a bed with jungkook, no offense jungkook.”
jimin smiles, at jungkook’s faint offended hey! that the receiver just barely picks up. “he’s fine to share a bed with, but sure. the couch is pretty big, anyway. but if you want to switch, just tell me. ah, i have water for you guys too, by the way.”
eventually they have to hang up to deboard the plane, and jimin spends a very restless thirty minutes waiting for them.
he occupies himself with counting the number of red luggages, and then by counting how many people wear hats, and he’s on hat number twenty-three when his eyes catch on blue, in the crowd.
he pauses, eyes following intently— until taehyung’s smile appears, his big wave— and then jimin gapes.
jungkook’s hair is pink.
it’s cherry pink, and jimin can’t see it that well from where he is but there’s no denying the pink-ness of it, something that echoes the blush that jimin likes.
“your hair is pink? ” jimin shouts, as they rush toward him— and taehyung shouts back a yes! before they both bowl him over completely, a mess of arms and limbs and choked laughter.
jimin isn’t sure who’s who, which arms around wrapped around him, which nose is buried in his neck. but knows, too, that the hands fisted in his shirt are jungkook, that the breathless hyung in his ear must be jungkook.
“hi,” he grins, when they pull back. his eyes dart to jungkook immediately, because it’s hard not to— “your hair is pink.”
“it is,” jungkook says, smile growing.
he’s restless, hands shoved in his pockets and swaying in place like he wants to throw himself at jimin again but they’ve moved past their intense hello already.
“i wanted to surprise you. it’s— i did it like, two days ago.”
“it looks good,” jimin chuckles.
he wants to touch too, but taehyung is still here and he knows they’ll get teased, even if light-heartedly. and jungkook gets shy about his touches, when they’re in public— so jimin just sort of. holds out a hand, and lets him decide.
keeps it subtle, but turns his palm out and shoots him a small smile.
jungkook all but leaps at the opportunity— steps forward and slides his fingers between jimin’s, squeezes so hard it hurts.
jimin feels all his love pinpoint in his palm, feels it rush through him and then settle, thrum away happily against the skin of jungkook’s hand. his head spins, a little— this first touch, jungkook close to him, smiling.
it feels like relief.
it feels like breathing again, when jungkook touches him.
all that love, that needed somewhere to go. it’s going and going and going, now, jimin’s breath catching with the force of it. when he looks down— their hands lit up stark under the fluorescent airport lights, fingers locked together.
and then he realizes—
“the tattoo,” he murmurs. jungkook’s fingers twitch in his, and he looks up at him eyes wide. “did you get it? you never told me—”
“show you later,” jungkook smiles, soft. “i did get it, yeah.”
jimin does a terrible job at biting back his returning smile, at hiding the way he buzzes with it, the knowledge that his words are inked on jungkook’s skin, that there are two tattoos that belong to him now.
jimin squeezes his hand, turns back to taehyung. ignores the pointedly raised eyebrow, at their brief conversation, the quiet privacy of it even in the loud everything-ness of the airport—
“how was the flight? not too bad, right, no crying babies?”
“mm, no,” taehyung hums, leaning forward to fix jimin’s hair, tap an affectionate finger to his chin. “i feel like you look older, somehow.”
“you’re like my mother,” jimin frowns, “she always claims i get taller every time i go home. i stopped growing when i was like, fifteen.”
taehyung snorts. “if you really were getting taller every time you’d be like, 6’0 instead of, what. 5’2?”
“fuck off,” jimin snorts.
the conversation feels far away even as he speaks, all of it quieter in comparison to the loud buzz under his skin, jungkook’s hand in his.
it’s barely been two weeks but he missed it so terribly— and when he looks over, at jungkook’s cheeks pink to match his hair and blinking hard, rubbing at his eyes— he knows jungkook missed it too.
jimin takes them out to eat, insists on paying, and then shows them around the city.
his love thrumming happily against jungkook’s palm the whole time— jumping eagerly into his shoulder when jungkook leans against him, into his forehead when jungkook brushes the hair from his eyes.
it feels like they’re stealing moments, little hello ’s, when taehyung looks away.
jimin running fingers through his hair, marveling at the color. jungkook pressing a fingertip to the mole on his neck, just to touch. jimin kissing his knuckles, tasting salt and the iloveyou ’s he left, a while ago.
“hyung.”
they’re milling through a souvenir shop.
taehyung is disappearing down the aisle ahead of them, shoving a frog hat on his head and grabbing trinkets as he goes, giggling to himself.
it’s a small souvenir shop, more of a tourist trap than anything else, but it’s nice in that quiet kind of way.
the linoleum floor a little worn with age, sticky in a way that implies it’s never been anything but sticky, and flickering fluorescent lights that feel too too bright. it’s just the right amount of uncomfortable.
jimin has been thrumming with it all night, having jungkook here, having him solid and real and seeing him. keeps marveling at him.
it’s like his smile is brand new, like jimin is seeing it for the first time. like when he smiles jimin is memorizing it for the first time, when he laughs and leans into taehyung it’s jimin’s first time seeing him happy, seeing him content.
“hm?” jimin hums again, glancing at him.
the pink hair keeps catching him off-guard but he loves it, keeps running hands through it, using it as an excuse to stare.
he thinks jungkook is more beautiful, in tokyo.
the purple and blue and orange neons painting him pretty colors, how his eyes shine as he looks, as he drinks it all in. that giddiness they’re all feeling, the lovely hum of imissedyou running under every conversation, every touch, every laugh.
“what is it,” jimin asks again, eyes tracking taehyung’s head of blue hair bouncing over the top of the aisles.
“hyung, if—” jungkook is pouting, and jimin wants to kiss him, “if— if it’s okay, i’m just.”
“tired?” jimin guesses.
he worried this might happen— knew that going out after a day of travel, with someone like him and taehyung— with big crowds and talking and thing after thing after thing, well. he worried this might happen.
“yeah,” jungkook sighs, blinking hard. “i’ve got— a headache, and i just—”
“don’t have to explain,” jimin squeezes his hand, “i know, gguk. d’you want me to text tae?”
“thanks,” jungkook sighs, relief clear. “‘m just— long day—”
“don’t have to explain,” jimin repeats quietly.
jungkook gets like this sometimes— will come home completely mute and disappear into his bedroom, after a long day, after going out. the first time it happened and jimin checked in on him, got nods and hums in response— he genuinely thought something was wrong.
but, no. jungkook gets tired, and jimin learned a while ago— take him somewhere dark and quiet, don’t speak, and hug him close.
jungkook sighs again, and squeezes his hand. thank you.
he takes jungkook home— lets him rest on his shoulder on the train ride back. taehyung wanted to see more of tokyo and jimin is more than happy to spend his night in silence, so they split up and jimin spends the ride back looking through the pictures taehyung sends him, hand linked with jungkook’s and his entire body thrumming with it.
by the time they get settled— jungkook’s duffel bag unpacked and the both of them changed into something more comfortable, all of the stuff they bought today set down and put away— jungkook is exhausted.
jimin sees it, the way he walks and blinks heavy, slow.
he hasn’t said a word since the souvenir shop, and jimin is careful with his own words— knows jungkook gets irritable, like this, and keeps it to a minimum. just a very quiet, want this here? when he’s not sure where to put something.
he’s pretty sure jungkook wants to sleep, wants to lay down. he’s not entirely sure why he hasn’t done it, yet, he’s never had a problem disappearing straight into the bedroom when he’s like this.
but then jimin hangs around the kitchen to grab a snack, and jungkook stays there with him.
lingering by the doorway, leaning his head against the wall. body heavy and eyes heavy and hands heavy where they lay clasped in his lap, but he lingers.
he thinks it’s the imissedyou they’ve all been feeling— that hum, that pull.
so jimin quietly walks over, nods him toward the bedroom, and eats his snack in bed. lets jungkook rest his head in his lap, and cards fingers through pink pink hair as he eats.
jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, and the sigh he lets out feels a lot like relief, too. something so tired.
jimin tosses the bag once he’s done eating and then reaches out, taps at jungkook’s wrist. watches his eyes blink open, curious, and jimin offers a small smile. taps his wrist again, and mouths tattoo?
that smile he loves, the one that’s a little shy but so excited.
jimin smiles back, and then jungkook rolls his sleeve up, and lets jimin stare.
i don’t think you can ever understand how much i love you, jeon jungkook.
there’s nothing else he can do. no other single thing he can do, but to reach out and wrap gentle fingers around jungkook’s wrist, and press his lips to the tattoo— to leave a kiss on his skin, to let the love spill from his mouth and into jungkook’s veins, to let them meld together this way—
this way, this way— jungkook’s breath, catching. jimin’s eyes closed, kiss lingering.
he swears he can taste the ink.
“i missed you,” jungkook murmurs.
jimin takes a breath, and leans back. smooths his thumb over jungkook’s wrist and then leans down, and leaves another kiss to his forehead, slow.
another soft breath, hitching in jungkook’s throat.
kiss, to the fragile skin of his eyelids— kiss, to his eyebrow, to the bridge of his nose.
“i love you,” jimin murmurs. he’s never held back before, and he doesn’t mean to start now. “missed you too.”
jungkook’s soft smile as jimin pulls away, and swipes a thumb over the kisses he left— gets jungkook giggling, a little, when he taps his thumb against the tip of his nose and grins at the way jungkook scrunches up on instinct.
“better?” jimin whispers, when jungkook’s smile takes a while to fade, when jungkook reaches up to tangle their hands together, sway jimin’s arm back and forth absently.
jungkook nods. “sleep?”
jimin hums in agreement. they move around separately, for a moment— jimin climbing off the bed to turn off the lights, pull off his hoodie, and jungkook shuffling under the covers.
when jimin climbs into bed next to him, it takes all of ten seconds for jungkook to scoot closer, wrap arms around his middle and then sling a leg over his. jimin smiles, lets them settle together the way they both know well.
bodies that know each other, already.
bones that align.
hips and stomachs and legs that know where to touch, where to slot into place.
“your room was empty without you,” jungkook whispers, when jimin starts to feel sleep pulling at him. “your side of the bed was empty, hyung. it was so weird.”
“i don’t go away a lot,” jimin murmurs, “i know.”
“was so weird,” jungkook repeats in a mumble. “missed you so much it felt dumb. like, didn’t think— didn’t think it was possible to miss you like that when it was only like, a couple weeks.”
“‘s not dumb, gguk,” jimin murmurs, frowning. “miss me however you want. ‘s all— ‘s all—” he chuckles, “ smart, i dunno.”
jungkook laughs, soft. sighs, and cranes his neck to leave a kiss, iloveyou to jimin’s skin.
jimin lets him fall asleep first, cards fingers through his hair slow and lets himself breathe, lets himself drink it in and rest.
his entire body humming content with it, love thrilling down his chest, arms, legs— everywhere they touch, he buzzes with it. jungkook’s hand on his chest, his chin digging into jimin’s shoulder, his thigh hooked over jimin’s, his stomach rising and falling slow against jimin’s side.
he thinks the entire apartment must reek with it. with their love.
it must reek of sweet, of jungkook’s smile, of his jimin-pink blush, of jimin’s love bursting into the air because it so desperately needs somewhere to go.
his different love, thrumming along next to jungkook’s.
jimin grabs for the pen on his nightstand, careful, and writes out his different love in the only words he knows— i missed you, on jungkook’s skin.
leaves another whispered i love you to the top of jungkook’s head, and falls asleep.
falls asleep feeling like lovelovelove, feeling like it’s all he’s made of, anymore.
like jungkook holds him and suddenly his arms, his bones, his blood, his hair and sweat and saliva are all made of love. jungkook comes home, fits himself between jimin’s arms, and suddenly they’re only made of love.
the both of them, melting into the mattress, quiet and draped in darkness.
jungkook’s soft breaths, over his collarbone.
jimin falls asleep and he’s made of love.
he wakes up, and at first he has no idea why.
just knows he doesn’t want to be awake, that his head is still groggy with sleep, that something must’ve woken him. tiredness still clinging to him, the quiet shift of the blankets, jungkook against him.
and then— then he realizes it like this.
nightmare, is his first thought.
the soft ah in his ear, little whimpers. jungkook tense against him, hands fisted like iron in his shirt.
and then he wakes up a little more, and—
“ mm, ” jungkook whines, mouth parted against his skin, and jimin realizes exactly what’s going on.
he swallows hard— jungkook rutting against his thigh, small distracted movements, caught in a dream, in somewhere sleepy. cock half-hard and the squeeze of his thighs around jimin’s— hands tugging desperately at jimin’s shirt, like he wants something, wants more.
jimin has no fucking idea what to do.
just has those soft sounds in his ear, rough with sleep and breaking at the end, has jungkook wrapped around him, small movements that aren’t enough— jimin can feel the desperation even like this, even lying frozen and heart beating against his ribcage.
the way jungkook grabs hard at jimin’s shirt and pulls until the fabric stretches, how his hips move forward quick and small, chasing something— his soft whines of complaint.
jimin swallows hard.
tentative, tentative— rocks his thigh forward.
the response is immediate, jungkook’s broken whine in his ear, something like relief, breaths catching as he tugs harder, ruts forward, searching— so jimin does it again.
slides a hand down, curls it around jungkook’s hip, and rocks his thigh in time.
he knew— knew that the i-want-you must’ve still been there, but this, this, jungkook grinding against his thigh, soft pants of pleasure as he gets off in his sleep, clinging to jimin—
“ ah— ah, hyung,” jungkook whimpers, “f-fuck—”
that sounded coherent, scarily so, and jimin cautiously slows the rocking of his thigh—
“ngh— no, no,” jungkook babbles, “please—”
“sorry,” jimin breathes, and continues— jungkook more awake, now, hips rolling forward measured, cock dragging in lines up jimin’s thigh, breaths heavy and whimpers choked back— “sorry, love.”
“i—” jungkook chokes, a little— jimin squeezes his hip, and feels his hips go still, feels his whines bit-back. “i— hyung?”
jimin blinks hard.
heavy, heavy breaths against his neck, jungkook’s fingers still curled tight into his shirt. but everything is still, now. jungkook’s all-too-awake hyung?
“yeah,” jimin whispers.
jungkook shifts, a little— careful not to move too much, but his hands loosen in jimin's shirt. heavy breaths mingling in the silence, in the darkness.
everything is too still, there’s too much silence.
jimin still burns with it, jungkook pressed against him. the heat of it all, of jungkook still hard and pressed into his leg, of jungkook’s chest still heaving against him.
the knowledge, now, i-want-you, solid. bodies solid, bodies hot.
he feels them teeter at the edge of something— they could go back, could play it safe. jungkook could keep his i-want-you in stares, in lingering looks, in dance practices that run long.
or—
“can i,” jungkook asks, quiet, “can i—?”
or, they could not.
“yeah,” jimin breathes, “do you— do you want me to—”
“yes,” jungkook murmurs immediately.
jimin isn’t even really sure what he was asking in the first place, but he reaches and pulls jungkook’s shorts down, maneuvers them over so that jimin is the one pressed against him, jungkook with his back to the bed.
it’s all a little clumsy— an awkward amount of shuffling, in the dark, limbs slow with sleep, heads hazy with heat— but then jimin has a hand on his thigh, skin skin skin, and jungkook is taking sharp, trembling breaths.
“can i touch you,” jimin asks, barely a whisper.
“yes,” jungkook breathes immediately, voice breaking into a whine at the end, and so jimin slides his hand up, wraps a hand around his cock.
suddenly, desperately, jimin wants to see. because the way jungkook reacts, to the simple touch, has something so horribly hot shrieking through his gut—
“ fuck, ” jungkook gasps, hips bucking up— hands grabbing blindly for jimin’s wrist, arm, shirt. “fuck, fuck—”
“gguk,” jimin chokes out, voice rough, “‘s this okay?”
“yeah,” jungkook’s breath hiccups, hips jerking forward, small, like he can’t help it, “yeah, fuck. can i— hyung—”
“go ‘head,” jimin murmurs, sliding his hand down, slicking precome down his cock and then letting jungkook roll his hips up, get himself off.
jungkook is shyer, now, less desperate, but he still ruts forward, breaths hitching in his throat, stomach fluttery. messy, messy with sleep, how he turns and digs his face into jimin’s shoulder and tries so hard to keep his sounds to himself—
“don’t be quiet,” jimin murmurs, hand sliding into his hair, “wanna hear you, sweetheart, c’mon—”
jungkook gasps, then— presses himself closer and whimpers, soft, as he grinds his hips up.
“good,” jimin praises quietly.
he could’ve guessed jungkook would be like this, could’ve guessed it from the way he blushes pretty every time jimin tells him he did well on an assignment, every time jimin lets slip a you did well, love, and watches jungkook curl shyly into himself and expand outward all at the same time.
“i— fuck, ” jungkook breathes out, shaky, “i’m— can i kiss you, can i please—”
jimin doesn’t take the time to answer and instead tips his head up, catches the gasp in his mouth, the kiss as messy as jungkook’s hips rolling forward— open-mouthed, breaths hot, jungkook’s lips sliding against his.
that low, choked groan from the back of his throat, how he ruts his hips forward faster and then tastes jimin like it’s the last thing he’ll do.
jimin’s skin burns with it, with jungkook pressed to him like this, with the taste of jungkook in his mouth, the taste of his whimpers, whines, sweet on his tongue— bodies sticky with sweat and bones that align, still—
desperate, messy, sleepy— it feels good, feels good, and jungkook is lost in it.
jimin wishes so badly he could see the way jungkook falls apart. the sight is stolen from him, and he has to settle for tasting it, kissing him deep, listening to him fall apart in breaths that shake and in thighs that trembles under his hands.
they taste like the same toothpaste, like the halfway point between morning breath and freshly brushed teeth— and when jungkook comes—
when his back arches up off the bed and jimin strokes him through it, murmurs sweet sweet words into his jaw, his neck— his choked gasp, how his entire body trembles, thighs tense and stomach tense— how he turns and hides his face in jimin’s neck—
“good,” jimin praises, “good, sweetheart, come for me—”
“i— ah, ” jungkook’s hips jerk forward, oversensitive, come still spilling down his cock, “i’m— shit—”
“shh, shh,” jimin hushes, leaves kisses to whatever part of him is closest— hair, forehead, cheek— “doing so well, baby, that's it.”
when jungkook comes he sounds so pretty that jimin tries to taste that, too— when his body stops shaking and he lets out a soft sigh, jimin dips his tongue into jungkook’s mouth and tries to memorize it while he still can— just in case jungkook wakes up more and thinks too hard about it. kisses him slow, deep— his head spins with it.
jungkook’s hand in his shirt, tugging him closer, jungkook’s shaky breaths, the kiss sloppy with his orgasm but it’s a kiss, a kiss, and jimin burns with it.
his entire body burns with it. burns, burns. that love thrumming under his skin turned into pure lightning, electricity that screams its way through his veins.
he’s breathless.
jungkook kisses him for the first time like this— sleepy, hazy, desperate— and he’s breathless.
“i’m—” jungkook pulls away, “i’m— shit, i’m sorry—”
“for what,” jimin murmurs. heavy breaths still caught between them, jungkook’s lips brushing his, noses bumping— “don’t be sorry.”
“didn’t— didn’t— i was—”
jungkook’s breaths catching higher and higher in his throat, hiccuping, the hand trembling in his shirt, panic, panic—
“hey, hey,” jimin murmurs, sliding a hand up his side, pulling him closer, “hey, shh. it’s okay.”
“i’m— hyung,” jungkook’s choked breaths, hands pulling at his shirt even as he shifts against the mattress, trying to pull away and keep jimin close at the same time, “i’m sorry, i—”
“it’s okay,” jimin whispers, “hey, hey. breathe. it’s okay. i liked it, i wanted it. you’re fine, sweetheart, you’re just fine.”
“i’m—” jungkook hiccups, coughs. “fuck, i’m—”
“gguk,” jimin murmurs, reaching blindly to slide a hand into his hair. god, please, please. jungkook has a habit of running from things. “gguk, i promise. it’s okay. can i touch you?”
“y-yeah,” jungkook murmurs, so jimin scoots closer, rests a hand on jungkook’s chest and then leans his weight on him, presses them together. feels jungkook take a shaky, shaky breath, try to calm.
“can i kiss you,” jimin asks quietly.
silence, for a second. just jungkook’s breaths, loud, still ragged from his orgasm and panic, panic— and jimin waits, waits.
“i want to,” he adds, in a whisper. “‘ve always wanted to. i want to make you feel better, gguk, will that help?”
“i—” hiccup, “i dunno.”
jimin reaches up, taps a finger to jungkook’s shoulder. “here? can i?”
silence. the rustle of blankets— and there are fingers clumsily over his face, a warm palm brushing his nose. jimin blinks hard. fingers bumping into his eyes, his eyebrows. jungkook’s hand feeling his face—
“what’re you doing,” jimin asks quietly, lips smushed against the bottom of jungkook’s palm.
a soft laugh, nervous, “i don’t know. i can’t see you.”
jimin smiles, a little. it’s too fond for where they are, what they are now, but it fits anyway. he would suggest turning on a light but he gets the feeling that won’t help— it’s safer when it’s dark. less real, maybe.
“it’s really okay?”
the quiet question, tentative. jimin recognizes it, the words.
( “it’s really okay?”
“yes,” jimin nods, squeezing his hand. “jungkook, really. i’ll cover for you this month, or however long it takes until you can pay your half of the rent again. it’s nothing.”
jungkook beet-red, nose wrinkling and head ducked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “are you sure?”
“it’s nothing,” jimin assures him again, quiet, fervent. doesn’t say the i-would-do-anything-for-you he’s thinking, but instead says, “if you need help i’ll help you, gguk. simple as that. i’d do this a million times if you needed me to.”
jungkook looks up at him, eyes wide.
okay, too much, maybe?
jimin smiles, sheepish, and opens his mouth to backtrack— and then jungkook surges forward, knocks him down and crushes him in a hug.
he laughs, arms coming up, coughing at how hard jungkook’s arms are wrapped around him— choking his middle, face pressed to his shoulder, legs a mess and tangled together on the couch. jungkook trembling small against him, the silent thank-you-thank-you-thank-you.
jimin smiles, reaches up to comb fingers through his hair. “i’ve always got you,” he murmurs, “gguk-ah. always.”
“thank you,” jungkook breathes. “i love you, thank you.”
jimin’s heart leaps.
“you love me?”
“are you fucking kidding me,” jungkook laughs, pulling back. jimin frowns, reaches up to thumb over the tears on his cheeks, even if they’re happy tears. “yeah, ‘course i do. how could i not, jimin, you’re so— shit.”
“i’m shit?” jimin chuckles.
jungkook shoves at his chest. “you know what i mean.”
“i do,” jimin smiles, and pulls him down into a hug again. “i love you too.” )
jungkook shifts, moves a little closer. the hand on his face sliding up and into his hair now, tentative. it’s really okay? jimin taps a finger to his shoulder again.
“it really is,” he assures him quietly. “i promise.”
jungkook sighs, slow. still a little shaky, but he shifts closer and then presses his face into jimin’s chest, slides an arm around his waist. jimin lets him, rests a hand over his back and then breathes with him, in, out, in, out.
until jungkook sighs again, slower. relaxes. jimin rubs circles into his back, chin hooked over jungkook’s head. listens to his breathing, tries to calm his own.
asks, can i? and then leaves a kiss to the top of jungkook’s head.
eventually, when jungkook’s breathing evens out, when he makes a soft sound and then hooks a leg over jimin’s again, when he falls back into sleep—
jimin is left to stare at the ceiling and wonder what the hell will happen when they wake up again.
what he’ll do, when he wakes up and the lightning under his skin hasn’t faded. he has a terrible feeling that he won’t be able to do anything else, now, when jungkook looks at him— he’ll have to say it, tell him, let his love break the air after years, years.
it aches, it burns— it needs somewhere to go, it burns the tip of his tongue until he presses the words, quiet, to jungkook’s hair—
“i love you,” he whispers, barely a whisper, barely. just enough, that the words linger in the air, that he can hear them. “i love you.”
jungkook hums, soft. his i love you too muffled and half-asleep, but he returns jimin’s iloveyou so thoughtlessly, instinctively—
and jimin burns with it.
lightning under his skin, humming away, surging up where jungkook touches him.
it feels like the words have taken form in his chest, like they’re crawling up the rungs of his ribcage and squeezing into his throat— making their way out of him little by little— taking root in his mouth and waiting for morning.
so that when he wakes, when he wakes and jungkook looks at him, eyes wide— he has no choice.
he has no choice, but to tell him the truth.
when he wakes jungkook is gone.
jimin opens his eyes, bleary, cheek smushed into the pillow and arms still holding someone that isn’t there anymore— and the sheets are empty, across from him.
it takes him a second to register it, that jungkook left, that he left, properly. that the water isn’t running in the bathroom, that there isn’t muffled conversation from the common area. that his clothes are gone, his jacket thrown over the chair gone.
jimin sits up, groggy, and throws a glance around the room. his head pounds.
the duffel bag is still there.
okay. okay. the words sit in his mouth, waiting. it’s like he can’t say anything else, not until he says that first.
so, so. he needs to find jungkook.
thread > gguk
min 9:49 am
> where did you go?
it takes barely a second for jungkook to read the message, but it takes him a few minutes to answer.
so jimin shuffles out of bed, strips the sheets from it and shoves them in the wash. catches taehyung still asleep on the couch, and wonders if he saw anything. he spends a few slow minutes brushing his teeth, watching his reflection in the mirror.
the mornings are always like this, and everything feels heavier without jungkook here.
gguk 9:57 am
> on a walk
> clearing my head
> i know you said its ok but im still freaked out and i dont want to say things i dont mean
min
> where are you?
> can i come meet you?
it takes him another few minutes to reply, so jimin gets dressed. climbs into a pair of sweats and then pulls on one of jungkook’s hoodies.
he clatters around as quietly as he can in the kitchen, makes himself coffee. taehyung wakes and hums a good morning, and all jimin can really do is nod.
the words rest heavy on his tongue, and all all all he can do is wait.
it’s going to come out whether he likes it or not, and so when jungkook texts him back and tells him where he is, jimin grabs his jacket and leaves.
it’s raining and there’s no yoongi to offer him an umbrella, so he lets the rain wet his hair and his skin as he walks. watches the people pass him by, and when he finally does see jungkook— sitting on a bench, umbrella-less too, head tipped back to let the rain wet his skin too—
he runs.
he runs, because he doesn’t want the words to come out before jungkook can hear them.
jungkook, in jimin’s yellow hoodie and that black jacket he insists is waterproof when it really isn’t, sitting with his legs swinging on a park bench.
something about it— maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s how his hair is dripping wet and maybe it’s his words, please come meet me — but it sets jimin’s thrum running running running higher—
until he sprints across the street and skids to a stop in front of him, watches jungkook’s head snap up and eyes go wide— how they flick over him quickly before he looks jimin in the face again— take in the way his chest heaves, his hands hanging by his sides because he doesn’t know what to do with them—
vaguely jimin is aware this is straight from some kdrama, the way he ran and it’s raining and they might (hopefully?) kiss, but at the same time—
“hyung?” jungkook asks, voice rough. he’s been crying.
oh wow, jimin is out of breath. he catches his breath, the words are right there, he pants and holds up a hand— give me one second— jungkook’s soft chuckle, amused—
“i love you,” jimin says. the words crawl straight from his mouth, fall onto the floor, slither up to jungkook. “i’m in love with you. sorry, i just—”
“what,” jungkook blinks.
“i ran—” jimin winces, points vaguely back at the sidewalk, “oh, wow, i have a cramp—”
jungkook laughs. “you dance, how do you have a cramp from running like, a block—”
“could you see me running?” jimin asks, laughing breathless too, “sorry, i just worried—”
“you love me?” jungkook asks. quieter, quieter.
jimin nods. reels himself in, a little, blinks hard and pats his chest, calms his breathing. points a wordless finger to the bench— can i sit? — and waits for jungkook’s small nod before he takes a seat, swallows hard.
brings a hand up and wipes at his face, wet with rain, pushes his hair back from his eyes. jungkook sniffing beside him, feet scuffing against the pavement.
“you love me,” he repeats. not a question.
jimin nods.
he holds out a hand, palm up, lets it rest on his knee. wiggles his fingers.
“when you touch me,” he says, words nearly swallowed up by the rain. jungkook reaches out, and rests a fingertip to his palm. jimin smiles, feels the love surge up to meet him. “when you touch me, i feel it.”
jungkook tap-taps his finger to jimin’s palm. shifts forward, and lines up their fingertips, drums his against jimin’s.
“i just wanted you to know,” jimin says, watching jungkook slide his fingers between his. their hands drenched, soaked wet in the rain. “couldn’t not say it, after— after last night. so.”
“so,” jungkook echoes quietly. “isn’t it scary?”
jimin glances at him.
it’s his favorite kind of rain, today. where it pours, but the sun is still out, stubborn, petulant.
jungkook is so pretty, profile outlined delicate and raindrops dripping down his nose, bottom lip caught between teeth and the late morning sun lighting him soft golden.
“scary?” jimin asks.
his lightning love thrums against jungkook’s palm.
“to say it,” jungkook says, and looks at him.
jimin is breathless. jungkook’s eyes, quiet, patient. how they drift over jimin’s face, linger. oh, oh, oh. jimin is breathless.
“i never thought i could say it, but you said it so easy.”
oh, he’s breathless. he stares, stares.
jimin sees it too. sees it, the way jungkook looks at him.
his different love, different, different— isn’t different at all. they love each other the same, and jimin thinks he was right, he was, jungkook’s love needed somewhere to go, he was leaving his iloveyou ’s to jimin’s empty room in seoul, they were thinking the exact same—
“oh,” jimin breathes.
jungkook’s soft smile, the one he saves for moments like these, the one he saves for jimin. gentler, around the edges.
“yeah,” jungkook murmurs, and tips his head to the side. “i love you too, hyung. i thought you kind of knew, but i guess not.”
“i didn’t know,” jimin laughs, still breathless, still his lungs stolen from him, “holy shit, really?”
“yeah,” jungkook laughs too, soft, “yeah, really.”
jimin stares, and then turns and tips his head back, closes his eyes. lets the rain hit him in the face, cold.
“well, fuck.”
jungkook laughs again, louder, and squeezes his hand. “we’re pretty stupid, i think.”
“yeah, really,” jimin mumbles. the rain tick-ticking at his skin, jungkook’s palm wet and warm against his, the bench digging into his back.
they’re in love, they’re in tokyo.
it’s morning, it’s raining. the sun is out.
jimin bursts with it.
“i can’t believe it,” he murmurs, and jungkook laughs. a little shaky, disbelief. “i can’t believe it, really. how long, gguk?”
“i’m not sure,” jungkook admits. “i just know i looked over at you one day and i was like— shit. ”
jimin laughs, shoulders shaking, and jostles jungkook’s hand, squeezes hard. “yeah, me too. no idea when it happened but suddenly i loved you— loved you as more than friends, loved you different.”
“hm,” jungkook hums. “it’s nice out.”
jimin smiles. “it is.”
his love humming happily along with jungkook’s, his same same love, the one that’s finally out. that he can give to jungkook this way. they’ve held hands a million times but it’s different now, now jimin’s love seeps right through his skin and onto jungkook’s—
“tattoo,” jimin murmurs, squeezing his hand until he lets go, lets jimin turn his wrist out and run a thumb over the words. “i think maybe you do understand.”
he can hear jungkook’s smile when he speaks, “i think maybe i do. what a waste of a tattoo, huh?”
jimin laughs, “i love you,” he says, and looks at him.
jungkook already looking back, like he’d never looked away in the first place, like jimin is the only thing worth looking at. that lovelovelove under his skin, thrumming away in jungkook’s eyes, too, when he reaches up—
“can i,” he asks, thumb swiping slow down the bridge of jimin’s nose, smoothing over his bottom lip. “i think our first one was a little, uh—”
“yeah,” jimin smiles. “this can be our first one. we can forget that other one.”
jungkook laughs, soft, and jimin lets himself drink it in. that laugh, that smile he loves, big big big in his vision. jungkook close to him, smiling wide, hand cupping his jaw.
the ink on his wrist, on his skin, jimin’s words there forever.
jungkook’s reminders on his skin, too, written in the bright rainbow gel pen he stole from the souvenir shop, i missed you, i love you, i missed you so much.
jungkook on his skin, jimin on jungkook’s.
jimin leans close, and tastes jungkook’s laugh sweet on his tongue, lets that smile replace the burn of the words in his mouth. kisses him soft, smiling too.
his love surges up— and jungkook kisses him back easy, laughs muffled.
jimin is made of nothing but love, anymore, when jungkook kisses him in the rain under the sun and leaves his laugh on jimin’s lips, when jungkook cups his face and kisses him back, breathless, disbelieving.
presses iloveyou into his mouth, leaves a soft imissedyou to the corner of his lips.
jimin sliding a hand into his hair, wet with rain, tipping his head up, pulling him back. jungkook letting him stare, letting jimin smile like an idiot at him.
“you really love me?” he asks, and jungkook nods. “in love with me?”
“more than anything,” jungkook smiles. “really.”
jimin leans in, steals another kiss. just to check. just in case. jungkook hums, content, sways forward when jimin pulls away.
“jungkook,” jimin says.
that soft smile, his jimin-smile. his cheeks pink to match his hair. the love glowing off of him, his eyes bright bright bright.
jungkook reaches up, and tips jimin’s head down. when he presses his lips to jimin’s forehead, the salt of rain between them, solid solid, and murmurs jimin — like it’s a prayer, like the world is dying and these are the last words he’ll ever say— they’re made of love.
the two of them. tokyo, morning. rain.
love.