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❅
Jimin has a really bad feeling about this trip.
His stomach churns, his head throbs, but still, he’s trying to be positive. This has been the busiest year of Jimin’s career, it only makes sense that his body’s fighting for rest. That’s why he booked this trip in the first place. He’s tired, he tells himself. That’s all! Nothing a little nap can’t fix.
But his parents are making it difficult.
“I told you to bring your motion sickness patches, Jimin-ah,” a voice to his left says.
From his right, “Hey, at least it isn’t as bad as that one year I took you boys to Lotte World, remember? You insisted on riding that rollercoaster, and you were green for the rest of the day. Compared to that, this is nothing!”
Laughter titters through their small group.
“’m fine,” Jimin mumbles. “Just tired.”
His mother tsks and starts telling everyone about all the countries Jimin’s visited this year, about all the hikes he’s guided, all the injuries he’s sustained, all the calls she never receives. He tunes it out, having heard it all before. Only she can manage to brag about his accomplishments while shaming him for working too hard in the same breath.
Jimin loves his parents—really, he does—but right now, he wishes he left them back on the mainland.
“Hey.” A hissed whisper, a tap on his knee. “Hyung, you still awake?”
It’s bad enough that his parents invited themselves on what was supposed to be Jimin’s solo winter retreat. He’s been looking forward to it for months. Though he’s living his dream guiding hikes through the world’s greatest wonders, Jimin is exhausted, mind and muscles worn thin.
At the end of every year, he takes a weekend to himself. He only lets himself guide one or two easy hikes to fund the trip, spending the rest of his time in blessed solitude. It only took one guilt-tripping phone call from his mother to derail this year’s plans. They haven’t spent the holidays with their eldest son in years, she had said. He’ll be so close—in Korea for the first time in months! It would be a waste not to join him. Jimin didn’t have it in himself to argue, so he had relented.
He should have known better.
Because then they showed up with the Jeons.
Jimin cracks one eye open, squinting against the ferry lounge’s fluorescent lights. He tries not to glare at Jungkook. It isn’t his fault their parents lack boundaries and human decency.
“No,” Jimin croaks, squeezing his eyes back closed. The boat lurches, taking Jimin’s stomach with it. “Not awake.”
Jungkook huffs a familiar, breathy laugh.
“Let’s go out on the deck.”
Jimin’s eyes fly open.
“What? Are you crazy?”
“It’ll help with the sea sickness,” Jungkook says, matter of fact. He stands and offers to help Jimin up and out of his chair. Jimin hesitates, staring at Jungkook’s hand. His rather large hand. His large, tattooed, veiny hand. It definitely did not used to look like that. Jimin gulps. “C’mon, hyung, I promise.”
Jimin figures the worst that can happen is being flung overboard. Honestly, sinking to the bottom of the ocean doesn’t sound half bad. He ignores Jungkook’s help and rises to his feet on his own, wincing at the way his knees creak and his heel aches, hoping Jungkook doesn’t notice his slight limp.
Of course he does.
“Whoa, whoa, you okay old man?”
Jungkook hurries to Jimin’s side as he hobbles away, gripping his elbow with a sigh. He acts like Jimin’s refusing to use his walker. Jimin ignores the way Jungkook’s touch sends his heart into arrhythmia. Never beating the ahjussi allegations, apparently.
“I’m fine.” Jimin jerks his arm away.
Jungkook holds his hands up innocently. He bites back an amused grin, bunny teeth pressed into his full bottom lip, clearly pleased to get a rise out of Jimin. It throws Jimin all the way back to high school, when Jungkook used to rest an elbow on Jimin’s shoulder, making fun of him for his stunted growth. Well, joke’s on him. Jimin’s grown a whole centimeter since then.
Let’s see Jungkook tease him now!
To Jimin’s never-ending annoyance, standing out on the deck indeed helps with his sea sickness. They stand in silence for a while, to Jimin’s immense relief. Making words is hard when all your focus is on not throwing up. He leans his elbows against the railing at the bow of the ship. The late-December wind whips his cheeks in a way that’s as refreshing as it is painful. Per Jungkook’s instruction, Jimin keeps his eyes on the horizon.
He’s grateful for the distraction, because otherwise, he’d probably just gawk at Jungkook.
It’s been years since they’ve seen each other. A decade, even. When Jungkook showed up with their parents at the port, Jimin almost didn’t recognize him. He’s huge. For a delusional moment, Jimin had thought Jungkook’s parents hired a bodyguard.
But then Jungkook had bounded out of the taxi like a hyperactive puppy, eager for adventure, oblivious to Jimin’s jaw on the ground. His eyes still sparkled in that sweet, mischievous way of his, his lisp still peeked through in his excitement. In many ways, the goofy, toothy Jungkookie of Jimin’s childhood hasn’t changed at all.
But now, he’s also unfortunately, unfathomably hot.
Puberty hit this one like the fucking Titanic.
Jimin keeps his eyes straight ahead, but in his peripheral, he can see how broad Jungkook is, his countless piercings glinting beneath the clouds, his all-black ensemble an ink blot against the grey. Jungkook grips the railing and stands on the bottom rung, volleying between leaning over the edge to look at the water and leaning back to look at the sky. Jimin can’t decide what’s more surprising: the fact that Jungkook hasn’t fallen in yet, or that the ferry’s crew hasn’t thrown him in themselves.
It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to grow bored. He hops down from the railing, turning around and leaning on them instead. Jimin chances a peek at him and regrets it immediately. Jungkook faces him, now, reaching up to hold his unruly hair out of his face, giving Jimin one of his famous half-smiles.
Even his fucking forehead is attractive.
This is ridiculous. Jimin fights a frown.
“So, our destination’s Ulleungdo, huh?”
“Yep,” Jimin says, eyes back on the sea.
“Korea’s snowiest secret,” Jungkook says, almost menacingly. Jimin can’t help but look at him again, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook’s half-smile turns whole. “What? I did my research! It looks cute. I’m excited. What if we have the whole island to ourselves?”
“We won’t.”
Jimin tries his best to mirror Jungkook’s nonchalance. Never mind the desolate wasteland that is now the inside of his skull. Jungkook’s smile just zapped his brain right out of existence. Embarrassing, really.
“Aw c’mon, you never know,” Jungkook pokes.
And stares.
Listen, Jimin knows he’s had his glow up, too. He isn’t blind. But he’s also coming off of a stormy, four-day trek across the Laugaveger Trail in Iceland. He’s jet lagged, sore, and just wants to lie down. He knows his eyebags have eyebags, there’s a pimple forming on his nose, and he is in dire need of a haircut.
Jungkook’s eyes roaming all over does nothing to soothe his insecurities. In fact, Jimin’s pretty sure Jungkook can already see his pimple, or maybe he has a booger. With Jimin’s luck, it’s probably both. Whatever it is, Jungkook’s eyes are trained on Jimin’s face right below his eyes, and he doesn’t need to see the blush that’s creeping up Jimin’s neck.
“You know what? I feel better,” Jimin says, even though he’s still queasy. It’s unclear whether that’s the rocky ship or Jungkook’s fault. “I’m gonna go back in with our parents.”
“Okay!” Jungkook pops up, an eager grin permanently glued to his stupid, pretty face. “I’ll come in, too, it’s kinda cold.”
Jimin muffles the string of expletives threatening to flow from his mouth and turns on his hurting heel, heading back towards the ferry’s interior lounge. But then Jungkook shouts at his back, halting Jimin in his tracks.
“Wait, Jimin-hyung! Come back! Hurry, look!”
After rearranging his face into something less violent, Jimin turns back around. He lets his eyes follow Jungkook’s pointed finger, trying and failing to ignore the way his doe eyes shine.
Then he sees it.
Ulleungdo crests over the horizon.
Jimin hurries to the railing at Jungkook’s side, relief rising like the tide. Jagged volcanic rock juts up and out of the sea, growing closer every breath. Jimin can feel Jungkook’s eyes on him again, checking for his reaction. Excitement radiates out of him like rays from the sun, fighting Jimin’s cloudy exterior.
Despite his best efforts, Jimin can’t control his face now, and for the first time in years, Jungkook watches Jimin smile.
❅
Jungkook has a really good feeling about this trip.
Just a couple of weeks ago, Jungkook thought he was going home for the holidays, prepared for a few weeks of nothing but his parents’ worn-in couch, homemade food, and Marvel marathons. Now here he is on an icy, secluded island in the East Sea, crowded in the entryway of the cutest little inn he’s ever seen, watching his long lost Jimin-hyung argue with their host.
Life comes at you fast!
There’s another group that arrived at the same time as their families did. Five guys that look around the same age as Jungkook and Jimin. They’re boisterous and rowdy, filling the tiny room with energy that makes Jungkook want to sprint around the block. While he’s waiting for Jimin to figure out their lodging, Jungkook talks with one of them in the corner. Jungkook doesn’t know his name yet, but he’s already shown Jungkook pictures of his dog, his girlfriend, and his grandfather’s strawberry farm on his phone.
Jungkook thinks that they should all be friends.
Finally, Jimin finishes up his conversation with the inn’s owner and approaches the rest. He has a frown on his face, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to coax out another smile. The brief one Jimin let slip on the ferry had given Jungkook hope. Jimin seems to have become very frowny in adulthood, which is fair. Being grown fucking sucks.
“What’s up, Jimin-hyung?” Jungkook says, slumping a bit when his new pal, Strawberry Farm, drops an arm around his shoulder.
“We’re screwed, that’s what,” Jimin grumbles.
“What happened?” Strawberry Farm asks, voice velvety smooth. “I’m sure it’s not that bad!”
“Excuse me!” a soft, scratchy voice interrupts. Conversation halts, eyes are drawn towards the front of the room. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
“What’s going on, hyung?” Jungkook tries again, but Jimin just gives him a crusty look and shushes him.
“Listen to halmeoni.”
“Fine, fine,” Jungkook drawls, and Strawberry Farm giggles, whispering he’s feisty in Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook makes sure Jimin hears him when he replies, “Small but mighty.”
Jimin’s eye twitches.
“Welcome to Ulleungdo,” halmeoni says, gaze falling over the crowd like a cozy blanket. “I’m so happy you’re all here. Unfortunately, I must advise you all to return to the mainland immediately.”
The room erupts in confused, panicked noises.
“They say we have a snowstorm coming in the next few days,” halmeoni continues, speaking above the commotion, “and I would hate for you to get stuck here. The ferry won’t run if it storms, and we have no way of knowing how severe it will be.”
Everyone goes fucking nuts.
Halmeoni calmly answers everyone’s questions and validates their concerns. Strawberry Farm has left Jungkook’s side to discuss their predicament with two of his friends, one who is tall, dark and dimpled, and another who might be the most handsome man in the world.
Jungkook stands silently next to Jimin, waiting for further instructions from his hyung. He figures Jimin will work everything out; back when they were kids, he always took charge. Instead, Jimin remains silent at Jungkook’s side, shrinking beneath the heavy coat on his shoulders.
Eventually, a decision is made. The consensus of both groups is that no one wants to leave, that they had checked the weather forecast before coming, and it said nothing about any incoming weather. They’ve just traveled all day, they can’t go back now!
Jungkook steals peeks at Jimin, trying to get a read on his stony expression.
“We’ll be fine, hyung,” Jungkook whispers, gently nudging Jimin with his elbow.
“But wait, there’s more,” Jimin sighs.
“I thought you all might say that,” halmeoni says, but she doesn’t seem upset by everyone’s refusal. If anything, she looks even more calm and content than before. “If everyone is staying, we will need to figure out sleeping arrangements. One of our groups has brought more guests than anticipated. There are eleven of you, and only seven rooms available.”
Everyone’s stares turn on Jungkook, Jimin, and their families. Jungkook feels his ears go red. He had come with his parents on the impression that the Parks were taking care of their lodging. By the way Jimin ignores Mrs. Park’s apologetic glances, Jungkook suspects there was an unfortunate miscommunication.
“My family and I can find a room somewhere else, halmeoni,” Jungkook announces, ears burning hotter when the room’s damning focus lands on him.
“Thank you for offering, sweetheart, but all hotels and rentals on the island are full for the holidays,” halmeoni says. “I won’t have you wandering around in the dark to find a warm place to stay when I have plenty of space right here. As I said, I have seven rooms, and each can sleep two. We just need a few volunteers to share.”
The room falls silent again.
Jungkook slowly raises his hand.
“I can share with someone,” he says.
Halmeoni smiles. “Perfect. Anyone else?”
“Us couples will room together, of course,” Mrs. Park says, gesturing to her husband and Jungkook’s parents. “Jiminie can share with you, Jungkook-ah. It will be just like old times!”
Jimin whips around to give her a wide-eyed look that screams, I would rather sleep in the snow, mother!
“Sounds good to me,” Jungkook says. Jimin turns his wide eyes on Jungkook. “What? It’s not like we’ve never slept together, hyung.”
Jimin’s mouth hangs open, his comeback dying on his tongue. Jungkook scrunches his nose and shucks a knuckle under Jimin’s chin to snap it closed.
“I’ll need two more volunteers,” halmeoni says, eyeing the rest of the group.
“I can share, too,” a voice says from the back.
It’s a member of the other group, of course. This one has a slight frame and eyes that look like they’re smiling, even when he’s not. For a few breaths, Jungkook doesn’t think any of his friends are going to volunteer with him, but then a man that uncannily resembles a cat steps forward, giving Smiley Eyes a shy look.
“I’ll room with you, Hobi,” Cat Man says.
“Thanks, Yoongi-hyung!” Smiley Eyes chirps.
“So it’s settled, then,” halmeoni says, smiling wide. Her cheeks are wrinkled, laugh lines deep. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”
One by one, she leads everyone to their accommodation, starting with the parents. Jungkook hangs back and chats with the guys while Jimin sits on an armchair in the corner. From the looks of it, he’s trying not to pass out, yawning every five seconds, blinks slow and heavy.
By the time halmeoni grabs them, Jimin doesn’t even argue when Jungkook grabs both of their bags, shouldering them down the hall. For a minute there, Jungkook thought he was going to have to take one for the team and carry Jimin to bed, too.
Not that he would mind.
“Had to save the best for last, didn’t I?” halmeoni says, giving Jimin and Jungkook a secret smile.
“The best?” Jimin whimpers.
Jungkook can’t help but laugh.
“Why do you sound scared, hyung?”
“This is our biggest room,” halmeoni continues, either not hearing their side conversation or choosing to ignore it. “Don’t tell the others, but it has a bathroom en suite. Everyone else has to share, so don’t brag.”
Oh, Jungkook’s totally going to brag.
“It’s also the warmest of all our rooms,” halmeoni says. “You get your own fireplace! Warmest, coziest, and by far the most romantic.”
“Romantic, eh?” Jungkook quips, waggling his eyebrows at Jimin. Elation surges hot and fast when Jimin goes pink. “Well thank you, halmeoni. We appreciate your hospitality.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” she says. “Here you are.”
She opens the door.
“Ah,” Jimin bleats. “W-wow.”
If the room is the biggest in the inn, Jungkook can’t imagine how small the other ones are. The fireplace is tucked into the corner, a soft flame already flickering. On the far wall there’s a door that Jungkook can only assume leads to the en suite, and in the middle of the room, taking up most of its space, is a double bed.
A very small, very nearly single double bed.
“Make yourselves at home,” halmeoni says, slowly closing the door with that same, smug smile. “Let me know if you need anything. Goodnight!”
They both just stand there for a minute, taking it all in. Jungkook considers the logistics. The bed is so narrow that if he and Jimin lie on their backs side-by-side, their shoulders might touch.
He can work with this.
Jungkook was hoping this trip would bring him and Jimin close again…
“Well,” Jimin says, clearing his throat. “Do you mind if I wash up?”
“No, no! Go ahead!”
They have to do a little dance to squeeze past each other, because Jungkook is still holding their bags. Jungkook giggles. Jimin perpetually blushes.
Jungkook loves it here.
Once Jimin’s past the room’s maze and Jungkook hears the water run, Jungkook sets their bags and coats aside. He sits on the corner of the bed and winces at how loudly the frame squeaks, admiring the heavy mink blanket that adorns the mattress. The gaudy, floral pattern mirrors the vase of fake roses decorating the nightstand, which matches the framed painting hung above the bed. Jungkook’s gotta give props to halmeoni. She knows how to stick to a theme.
Jimin emerges from the bathroom after a short while. Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares, eyes sweeping down Jimin’s body. From his wet-tipped hair and rosy cheeks, to his rolled, flannel pants and cute, tiny toes. He fits right in. Warm and cozy and romantic, just like their little room.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Jimin says, snapping Jungkook out of his musings.
“W-what?” Jungkook stutters. “No, hyung, I can sleep on the floor if you’re worried about sharing. I don’t mind.”
“It’s my fault we have to share a room in the first place,” Jimin says, still not looking directly at Jungkook.
“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine, not yours!”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor!”
“Jungkook, don’t be a brat.”
“I’m not a brat!” Jungkook whines. He’s gotta admit though, he’s kind of having fun. Jimin’s cheeks are getting pink again. If he knew Jimin wouldn’t kill him in his sleep for it, Jungkook would go up and pinch them. “I’m a gentleman.”
“Fine!” Jimin exclaims, throwing his hands up, turning his back to the room. He stomps to his bag and clumsily zips it open, aggressively digging through it. “We’ll just share the bed, then. Happy?”
“As a clam!”
Jimin doesn’t answer, grumbling under his breath some more. Jungkook knows he should go wash up too, but instead he sits and watches Jimin go through his things. Jungkook can’t believe how much Jimin was able to fit in there. He just keeps coming up with more and more—hiking boots, trekking poles, thermal underwear. Jungkook imagines Jimin wearing those. On anyone else they’d be hilarious, but he has no doubt Jimin would pull them off.
“You guiding any hikes this weekend, hyung?” Jungkook asks, though he thinks he already knows the answer.
“Yep, first thing tomorrow morning,” Jimin says. “Have to pay for our lodging somehow, don’t I?”
Jungkook perks up, an idea forming.
“Hey, can I tag along?” he asks, and Jimin freezes. “I’ll pay, of course! It’s the least I can do, crashing your trip and all.”
Jimin recovers quickly and turns around, probably to shoot Jungkook daggers. He must get distracted, because his eyes wander, trailing over Jungkook’s body lounging at the foot of the bed. He starts at his chest in his plain black tee, down the length of his jeans, stopping at his socked feet hanging off the side. Jungkook’s pleased when Jimin blinks hard, shaking his head, jerking back around to keep shuffling through his things.
“No offense, Jungkook-ah, but I don’t think you can afford me,” Jimin mumbles.
“Try me,” Jungkook says, puffing up his chest to boost his own ego. “Name your price. I’ll tip you well.”
Then, a miracle happens.
Jimin laughs—a tiny, snorty little thing. Jungkook doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing it light up his face, but he’d climb Mt. Everest in his undies just to hear it again.
“Fine, you can come,” Jimin says, finally standing and approaching the bed. He shakes his head like he can’t believe he’s saying this. “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”
Jungkook blinks, swallowing hard.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in years.” Jungkook theatrically wobbles his voice when he says, “Th-thank you, hyung. I won’t let you down.”
Jimin rolls his eyes and nudges Jungkook’s shoulder. He realizes he’s lying across Jimin’s side of the bed and jerks up, the frame screaming in protest when Jimin climbs up to join him.
“You’ll need to rent some supplies. We all will. I’ll take you tomorrow morning to get you set up,” Jimin says, stiffly lying on his back. “It’ll be a long day, so try to get lots of rest tonight, yeah?” A pause. “You still sleep like you’re in the boxing ring?”
Jungkook is confused for half a second, but then he remembers and barks a loud, quick laugh.
“You’re still upset about that?” Jungkook does the math in his head. How long ago had their infamous camping trip been? Middle school? Sheesh, they’re getting old. “That was, like, fifteen years ago! Holding grudges is bad for your skin!”
“You gave me a black eye!”
“It was an accident!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin airily says, leaning into the dramatics. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, though he’s pretty sure he’s in the same boat, with their creaky ass bed fit for a child. “I’ll keep you warm, hyung, don’t worry.”
Jimin only groans, throwing an arm over his eyes, covering half his face. Jungkook can still see the way his lips twitch up in the ghost of a grin.
When Jimin stays quiet, Jungkook takes that as his cue to go change and wash up. Jimin’s exactly where he left him when he returns. Jungkook settles into bed next to him. The bedframe perpetually screeches—that’s going to be a problem. He eyes the fire still crackling in the corner, though it’s more embers than flames, now.
“Hyung, do you think it’s safe to leave the fire going?” There’s no answer. Jungkook looks over at Jimin, notices the way the bottom half of his face is relaxed, jaw loose. He tries again, softer this time. “Hyung?”
Jimin stirs, arm falling away from his face, slack with sleep. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, memories of their childhood punching him in the gut. Fanned lashes on freckled skin, clenched fists against soft cheeks, quiet breaths through lush lips.
Fuck, Jungkook’s missed him.
In many ways, Jimin is different than he remembers. His hair is bleached honey blond, but it suits him. His cheeks aren’t as full as they were in their youth, but somehow Jimin’s softer than he was way back when. He’s shyer than Jungkook remembers, too. More quiet, more cautious. Jungkook wonders what happened to make him build up that wall, wonders what he thinks he’s defending himself from.
Things have certainly changed, but the way Jimin’s smile slowly took over his face on the ferry, starting with his pretty eyes—that hasn’t changed at all.
❅
An ear-splitting scream jolts Jimin awake.
He has no idea where he is, eyes having a hard time adjusting to the blinding, bright room. The horrible noises don’t stop, only growing louder the more that Jimin struggles, flopping his arms around to find the source. He nearly falls out of bed while trying to free himself from the snare of the thick blanket tangled up in his legs. He yelps, unable to run away when a door slams open, hitting the wall.
In its frame stands Jungkook, looking frightened.
“Oh no, hyung,” Jungkook snivels, rushing into the room. Jimin just sits there, one eye still refusing to open. Jungkook grabs something from the nightstand next to the bed. “I thought I turned it off! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He holds his phone in his hand, tapping around until the warped screaming stops. Jimin finally realizes that it must have been an alarm. What kind of psychopath sets their morning alarm as an autotuned, screaming baby? The other sounds of death must have been the bed frame nearly collapsing beneath Jimin’s flailing body. Jimin squints at Jungkook, who stands at the side of the bed, all clean-faced and bright-eyed.
“Fuck,” Jimin groans, scraping his hands down his forehead to his chin, then back up again to press the heels of his palms to his eyeballs. If he squishes them deep enough into his skull, maybe the light streaming through the windows can’t hurt him. “’s okay. Must’ve slept through my alarm.”
“Oh, ah. Actually…”
Jimin waits for Jungkook to finish his sentence. When he doesn’t, Jimin braces for impact and re-opens his eyes. Jungkook is back-lit by the sun. He looks every bit a saint.
This is a wake-up call from hell.
“What?” Jimin croaks.
“I, um.” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. His thick, meaty neck. It is way too early for this shit. “Earlier, I turned off your alarm so that you could sleep some more.”
“You WHAT?”
“You needed the rest, hyung!”
Jungkook pouts, giving Jimin his best puppy eyes. Thankfully, Jimin grew up with those things and is immune to their power. Still, something softens in Jimin’s chest and slides through his ribs, pooling warm in his gut. Damnit. Their time apart has weakened his resolve.
“What time is it?” Jimin’s scared to ask.
Jungkook checks his phone.
“Half past eight?”
“Half past—fuck!”
Jimin flies out of bed, promptly falling on his face. The blanket snare has not been disarmed. When Jungkook strides over to help free him, Jimin slaps his hands away.
“Hyung, what’s the rush?” Jungkook asks, standing there, watching Jimin writhe on the floor. “A five a.m. alarm during vacation is dirty work. Always the workaholic, this hyung, hm?”
Jimin doesn’t answer, just focuses on his escape. Once he’s out, he scrambles up to his feet, hissing at the pain that shoots up his leg, stemming from his godforsaken heel. He should really do his morning stretches, but there’s no time. Jimin staggers over to his bag and grabs the outfit he very carefully set out the night before.
“Okay, well, when you’re ready we’ll be out here,” Jungkook says, backing away like Jimin’s an angry goose trying to bite his ankles. Valid. “Really, take your time, okay?”
Jimin washes up in record time, slamming a hat over his raging bedhead and shrugging into his winter clothes. By the time he makes it out of the room and down the hall, he feels halfway human again.
He follows the voices until he finds Jungkook, their families, and the other group of tourists seated around a long, heaping dining table. Bowls of rice, soup, and banchan act as the centerpiece. Everyone takes their share and stuffs their faces.
“Good morning.” A soft touch nudges Jimin from behind. He turns to find halmeoni giving him a sweet smile. She holds a tray filled with more food, and Jimin immediately takes it from her, setting it on the table. “Thank you, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, I did,” Jimin says, finding that it’s true. He feels like he could have slept another eight hours, but it’s the best, uninterrupted sleep he’s had in weeks. “I’m sorry halmeoni, this meal looks delicious, but I have to run. I’m supposed to meet my sweep at the ski rental place, but—”
“No need,” another low, raspy voice says by Jimin’s side. Jimin twists to face a man about the same age as halmeoni. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin can’t disguise the confusion on his face when he takes the man’s hand, bowing respectfully despite his furrowed brow.
“This is my husband,” halmeoni says. “He helped arrange your hike and will accompany you and your party to Seonginbong Peak.”
“Oh!” Jimin feels ill-prepared, because he wholeheartedly is. “You’re my sweep! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—"
“That’s no problem, son,” harabeoji says, guiding Jimin to sit at the table next to Jungkook, whose cheeks are full beneath wide, sparkling eyes. The way he chews looks like a little bunny, especially when he tries to smile, lips pursed to keep it all in. “Have you met the rest of our group yet?”
“No…?”
Harabeoji gestures to the other group of men that arrived with them last night. They all sit at the other end of the table and wave happily at Jimin, all dressed in outfits similar to his.
“Oh,” Jimin says, sheepish. He really needs to pay more attention to his itineraries. “Uh, hi everyone. My name’s Jimin.”
“Hi, Jimin!” the table resounds.
Everyone does a round of introductions, but Jimin’s still so flustered that every single name goes right over his head. He only recognizes the other pair that volunteered to share their room. They’re decisively avoiding eye-contact with each other. Jimin wonders if they’re traumatized from last night’s happenings, too.
When everyone’s attention is scattered again, Jimin gives Jungkook a panicked look.
“You didn’t catch any of that, did you?”
Even though Jimin can tell Jungkook’s trying—and failing—to disguise his amusement, there’s no teasing in his tone. Jimin shakes his head no, groggy brain rattling around. Jungkook leans close and speaks lowly into Jimin’s ear, giving him a run down of everyone’s names again while Jimin shovels as much food down as quickly as he can manage.
Jimin tries his best to focus, but every other word, Jungkook’s lips brush the shell of Jimin’s ear. Over the microwave noises taking over Jimin’s thoughts, all he catches is something about strawberries, smiley cats, and handsome, giant dimples.
“Got it?”
Jimin stares blankly at Jungkook, who’s still close enough Jimin can see the mole below his bottom lip.
“Don’t worry,” Jungkook says, resting a hand on Jimin’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Once you learn their names, there’s no going back. You’ll get it in no time!”
“Um,” Jimin says intelligently.
“Boys?”
Jimin and Jungkook jerk apart.
“Everyone is ready to go,” halmeoni says, smiling serenely, eyes knowing. Jimin’s entire body burns with a blush when he realizes everyone’s attention is on them. “Do you two need more time?”
“No!” Jimin blurts, standing so quickly he bumps the table, dishes rattling. “No, sorry, um. Can we help clean up, halmeoni?”
“You boys go on,” halmeoni says. “We will see you when you return. Watch the skies. Be safe.”
Jimin and Jungkook’s mothers bid them farewell, but their fathers follow them outside, opting to join the hike. Jimin shouldn’t be surprised they’re inviting themselves along for this, too.
Normally, he would worry, but this hike should be manageable. Low altitude, steady pace, established trail. Jimin has hiked with his father before, he knows he can handle this, and if Mr. Jeon is anything like his son, he probably can, too.
After surviving the debacle of getting everyone equipped at the ski rental place, they finally make it to the trailhead. Though they’re behind schedule, the knot in Jimin’s gut melts away, leaving behind that tingling pre-hike excitement that Jimin thrives on.
The skies are crystal clear, sunlight bouncing off the sparkling snow blanketing the island. Harabeoji says the storm isn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow morning. Today, the forecast only calls for the typical, daily flurries that locals have grown used to.
Despite Jimin’s rocky start, this trip might go smoothly, after all.
Jimin leads the pack, following the trail that’s already been cleared by the local mountaineering club. With his snowshoes, Jimin widens it, making sure their group can pass through safely. The trail is quiet, every movement hushed by the snow’s cushion. The only sounds are of their breathing and the distant cry of gulls circling the frozen, rocky shoreline.
Sea and snow meet the sky; Jimin’s lungs fill with the scent of salt and ice.
This is what Jimin lives for.
“Are we there yet?”
Jimin halts, twisting his body to see who’s already whining. Of course, Jungkook is right behind him in line, hot on his heels. Ever the competitive, golden boy. But when Jimin looks at him with an eyebrow raised, Jungkook’s eyes go wide.
“That wasn’t me, hyung!” he says, doing his best to look innocent. “That was Taehyungie-hyung!”
The man after Jungkook in line waves, giving Jimin a boxy smile.
“We’ve still got six hours to go,” Jimin says. Taehyung’s face falls like Jimin has offered to push him off a cliff. “This is just the warm up!”
“I’m planning our next trip,” Taehyung grumbles. “Never should have let Namjoon-hyung drag us here.”
“Remember, Tae, growth only happens in discomfort!” says the man behind Taehyung. He’s the tall one, dimples digging deep in his cheeks when he smiles. “Just ignore him, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin does his very best.
For the next hour or two, Jimin tries to concentrate on the trail in front of him, but it’s difficult when Jungkook plays twenty questions. He acts like Jimin is supposed to know the name of every frozen plant and bird they encounter. Eventually, he gives up and stops asking questions. For approximately three and a half minutes, it’s quiet.
Taehyung quickly fills the silence.
He croons every Bing Crosby song he knows, which happens to be two. Jimin wouldn’t mind, but Taehyung loops them again and again, over and over. At this rate, Jimin’s going to have them stuck in his head for the rest of the year.
To add fuel to the fire, Jimin’s cursed heel is becoming a problem. Every step it twinges deeper, sharper. He doesn’t know what exactly he did to it, just that it’s been bothering him for a few months. It only acts up every now and then, and every time, Jimin muscles through it.
Today will be no different.
Finally, they reach their first stop—Palgakjeong Pavilion. There they hydrate and chat, catching their breath before they tackle the next leg of the hike.
The terrain becomes more challenging to navigate, and Jimin routinely checks to make sure everyone is accounted for. Taehyung has fallen back with the dads, harabeoji taking up the rear. Jungkook stays close to Jimin, though. He assures Jimin this is a walk in the park, that this isn’t his first mountaineering rodeo lest Jimin forget he’s good at everything.
Jimin’s as relieved as the rest of them when they make it safely to Taeha Lighthouse.
There, everyone gathers around the little propane stove harabeoji packed, alongside the fresh pork belly and sack of dry noodles. They boil snow and make themselves a fatty, carb-rich feast to fuel up for the rest of the hike.
While they eat, they talk. Jimin would never admit it, but Jungkook was right. Jimin thinks he’s finally got everyone’s names down, and he has a feeling they’re going to grow on him. They’re all so different. Still there’s an undefinable symbiosis that weaves them together. Their chemistry is magnetic.
Eventually, the food dwindles. Everyone laughs when Jungkook sniffs the air when the pot nearest to him empties and softly asks, “Is there any more samgyeopsal? Jimin-ssi? Any samgyeopsal over there?” Jimin suspects everyone else has already given Jungkook their rest of their leftovers.
Unable to resist, Jimin gives him his last piece.
After lunch, the hike resumes.
From this point on, there are no more breaks until they reach Seonginbong Peak. Everyone must feel the change in elevation, because no one says a word for at least half an hour. Jimin has his focus on the ground, taking his time to clear the path, so he doesn’t notice the clouds rolling in.
He’s surprised when it starts to snow.
Flurries turn into big, fat flakes, the kind that stick, coating everyone and everything in yet another layer of white.
The going gets tougher. His lungs are burning, so he can only imagine how the rest are faring. Jimin starts to worry that he underestimated this hike’s difficulty. That knot of anxiety returns, weighing heavy in his gut.
And his heel is getting worse.
Jimin considers asking if harabeoji will swap places with him for a bit, to give him a break from the exhausting job of stomping away the snow. His stubbornness wins, driving him forward, pushing through the pain.
But of course, Jungkook notices his struggle.
“Hyung? Are you okay?”
“Hm?” Jimin grunts, pausing to take the weight off his bad heel, just for a moment. He leans on one of his trekking poles. A chill creeps down his spine when he sees how deep the snow is getting, the higher up they go. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need a second.”
“What happened?” someone down the row asks. Jimin can’t tell who it is. The snow somehow steals everyone’s voices, dampening it, carrying it away. “Why are we stopping?”
“Jungkook-ah, you wanna take the lead for a bit?” Jimin asks in lieu of answering.
“Sure,” Jungkook says, much less enthusiastically than Jimin hoped he would.
They soldier on. The climb grows steeper, the snow nearly to their crotches, still falling fast. Jimin knows he can handle it. He’s hiked through much worse. Still, his heart pounds high in his throat, his palms sweat in his gloves. Every step gets harder. After just a few meters, all Jimin can focus on is his heel, the ache worse than it’s ever been.
The snow falls harder.
Jimin takes one last step.
Then, his leg gives out from under him.
“Fuck!” Jimin cries.
Pain goes searing through his foot, up his ankle. Jungkook turns, and Jimin tries to get up. When he takes another step, he goes right back down. The snow crunches under Jungkook’s snowshoes as he hurries over, kneeling down to Jimin’s level. Jimin doesn’t register he’s asking him questions until Jimin looks up and sees his mouth moving.
“Hyung? Hyung, what’s going on?”
“Jimin-ssi?” Jimin hears harabeoji getting closer, weaving through the rest of the group to check on him. “Are you injured?”
“No, no, I’m okay, I just—"
“No, he’s not,” Jungkook interrupts, still down on Jimin’s level, eyes flicking across Jimin’s face. “Where does it hurt, hyung?”
Jimin tries to smooth his expression, tries to stand again and fails.
“It’s my heel,” Jimin says. Embarrassment sets in. Everyone stands behind them in silence. “It—it always gives me trouble. This happens all the time. I’ll be fine, I swear."
“Do you think you can make it to the summit?” harabeoji asks, brow furrowed.
Jimin hesitates. “Yes.”
“He’s lying.”
“Jungkook!”
All the annoyance that’s slipped away throughout the day rushes back with a vengeance.
“It may be best for you to turn back, Jimin-ssi. I’m sorry,” harabeoji says. He at least looks sympathetic. “Can someone help Jimin get back safely? The snowmobiles can’t come up past the lighthouse. From there, you can radio for help.”
“I’ll help him,” Jungkook volunteers, because of course he does. Jimin almost says he would rather just roll down the mountain but bites his tongue. “Hyung, can you stand at all?”
“I can try.”
Jungkook straightens, reaching a hand down to help Jimin up. As much as Jimin would love to snub him and stand on his own, he doesn’t think he can. With Jungkook’s added strength, Jimin is able to get up, putting all his weight on his good foot. He has to lean into Jungkook, and Jungkook wraps an arm around his waist. As if this situation wasn’t humiliating enough, Jimin squeaks at the gesture, even though he can hardly feel his touch through all their layers.
“The rest of us need to keep going if we want to make it to Nari Basin by sunset,” harabeoji says. “You boys will be okay on your own? The snow should let up soon.”
“Yes, harabeoji,” Jungkook says. “I’ll make sure we get back in one piece.”
Famous last words.
They split up, and Jimin struggles back down the trail with Jungkook supporting most of his weight. They couldn’t have gone far from the lighthouse, Jimin thinks. It shouldn’t take them long to return. But they are moving much more slowly than they had been. The path is too narrow for both of them to pass through, so Jungkook has to break the drifts as they go. All Jimin does is slow him down.
All this, and harabeoji’s assurance about the weather must have been in vain. The snow comes down hard and fast, the wind starts to pick up, visibility is low. Jimin suspects it will only get worse. He’s been caught in a storm before, this is nothing new. But then, he wasn’t hurt, and he didn’t have Jungkook with him. If anything happens to him…
Jimin starts to panic.
“Jungkook,” Jimin says, voice shaky. “This isn’t going to work. It’s taking too long.”
“What?” Jungkook looks down at Jimin. He’s got snowflakes clinging to the tips of his bangs sticking out from under his raised hood. Jimin has a random, overwhelming urge to fix them, to keep them out of Jungkook’s eyes. “We’ll be okay, hyung. We just gotta keep following the path. C’mon, I’ve got you.”
They continue, but just as Jimin feared, the storm worsens. They can hardly see in front of themselves, and the path they had forged up the mountain is quickly being buried and blown away. They have to stop several times, trying to discern what’s the trail and what’s not. Jimin has his GPS watch an inch from his face to make sure they’re still heading southeast, but still. It’s impossible to tell exactly where they are.
This is bad.
“Stop,” Jimin says, yanking Jungkook back. “Stop, we need to stop.”
“What? No! We need to keep going,” Jungkook tries to pull Jimin forward. “We’re almost there, hyung, I can feel it. Just a little bit further. We can make it!”
“I can’t!” Jimin cries. He’s exhausted, sweating under his layers despite the blizzard blazing around them. His good leg shakes beneath him, exhausted from the strain of carrying him through difficult terrain. “I can’t Jungkook, please.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few stressed, heavy breaths. Jimin can hardly see Jungkook’s face anymore, even a foot away, but Jimin imagines the notch of concentration between Jungkook’s brows.
Jimin opens his mouth to tell Jungkook to reach into the bottom of Jimin’s pack for his shovel so that they can dig themselves a shelter, but first, Jungkook shrugs out of his own pack. He doesn’t rifle through it like Jimin expects, instead putting it back on, this time so it hangs at his front.
Then, Jungkook releases his hold on Jimin, leaving Jimin wobbling on one leg. Jungkook quickly turns and squats low, nodding at Jimin over his shoulder.
“Get on.”
Now it’s Jimin’s turn to stand in silence.
“Take your time,” Jungkook grouses.
“You want to carry me?”
“Yes.”
“Down the mountain.”
“Yep.”
“There’s a meter of snow on the ground!”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Jungkook snips. He offers his back again. “Now get on, before it’s too late.”
Jimin recognizes the hitch in Jungkook’s voice. There’s no way he’s changing his mind. So Jimin sighs and tucks his trekking poles into the side of his pack and limps close, clumsily jumping onto Jungkook’s back. Jungkook catches Jimin beneath his thighs. Thank god Jungkook can’t see how red Jimin’s face probably is right now.
This is such a stupid way to die.
Jimin’s got to be heavy as fuck with all his gear and his gigantic pack, but Jungkook starts walking again, pace clipped. They’re making progress way faster than before. Jimin just knows Jungkook is going to be a cocky little shit if they make it out of this alive.
Now that Jimin doesn’t have to worry about keeping his balance, he’s better able to help Jungkook navigate. He clings to Jungkook’s neck and gives instructions in his ear. Every now and then, Jimin will tuck his face into the crook of Jungkook’s shoulder to shield his face from the storm, and every time, Jungkook tilts his head to give him room.
Sure enough, after doing things Jungkook’s way, it isn’t long before Jimin recognizes the fork in the path that leads to Taeha Lighthouse. He points it out, and Jungkook follows, nearly jogging until abruptly, the structure is right in front of their faces.
Jimin wriggles down, wincing as he lands, gritting his teeth and limping to the door. But when he reaches for the handle to pull it open, it’s locked.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jimin wails, pounding on the weathered wood. “Hello?!”
Jimin keeps pounding and pounding. His fists start to hurt, so he stops, turning to face Jungkook. Jungkook just stands there, at a loss for words. There’s no way he can carry Jimin the rest of the way down. Jungkook’s face is rosy, streaked with sweat from his temples, freezing halfway down his cheeks. He looks exhausted.
He doesn’t believe in any gods, but Jimin begs the universe for a miracle. If anything, he just asks that Jungkook makes it back okay. Jimin would walk barefoot through the storm if it meant Jungkook’s safety was guaranteed.
And then, like divine intervention—
The lighthouse door swings open.
“Oh,” Jimin peeps, flinching back.
The lighthouse keeper stands in the doorway, struggling to hold the door open against the wind.
“Come in, come in,” they say.
Jimin and Jungkook don’t hesitate.
They tumble inside, and the keeper apologizes for locking them out. They ramble on about how the door likes to blow open during storms, that they didn’t think they would have any more visitors today, clearly shaken by their appearance. Jimin catches the keeper up on their situation, and they hurry to call for someone to take Jimin and Jungkook back to the inn.
Jimin’s never been so relieved.
Thanks, universe!
While they’re waiting, Jimin and Jungkook find a comfortable corner to rest. They both peel off some layers. Now that they’re out of the wind and snow, their protective gear is unbearably warm. They lay their heavy coats and snow pants out to dry. The weight off Jimin’s shoulders makes him feel like he’s going to float away, detached from himself, watching the scene from the outside in.
Perhaps Jimin’s in shock.
At least that’s what he tells himself when he sits on the floor, limbs like jello, and watches Jungkook undress. Jimin keeps his wool sweater on, but Jungkook pulls his off, leaving him in his underclothes. The thin, thermal fabric is drenched in sweat, clinging to every peak and valley that contours Jungkook’s chest and stomach.
Jungkook clears his throat.
“Did you want me to keep going, or…?”
To Jimin’s abject horror, Jungkook starts tugging the bottom of his undershirt over his stomach. He exposes a sliver of tan, glistening skin and a peek of his Calvins while giving Jimin his best cocky smile.
“Yes! I mean—no!” Jimin’s entire body feels like it’s on fire, humiliation washing over him in waves. He’s been caught, but he’s still staring. It’s like looking at the sun. He physically can’t tear his eyes away. It’s the shock! Blame it on the shock! “I’m in shock!”
Jungkook laughs. “What?”
Finally, Jimin’s trance snaps. He drops his head into his hands, keeping his eyes closed. He can’t trust those things anymore. Maybe freezing to death on the side of the mountain was ideal, after all. He rescinds his thanks to the universe.
“Please stop,” Jimin says, voice weak.
“I’m not doing anything!”
Jungkook is still laughing. He plops down across from Jimin on the floor. How Jungkook can act like they haven’t just survived a near-popsicle experience, Jimin has no idea.
Jimin doesn’t let himself speak anymore, just gurgles in the back of his throat like a drowning dunce. But his head pops back up when suddenly, he’s yanked forward by his good ankle, dragged across the floor. Jimin gets an eyeful of Jungkook’s bulging biceps and nearly swallows his tongue.
“Um—excuse you?!” he squeaks.
“Let me see your foot,” Jungkook demands, satisfied when Jimin’s close enough that he can plop both of Jimin’s feet into his lap.
“W-what? Why?”
Jungkook pokes Jimin’s bad, socked foot.
“It’s this one, right?”
“Yeah…”
Jungkook arranges Jimin’s foot on his thigh, giving himself a better angle to—well, Jimin doesn’t know exactly what Jungkook is doing. Jimin thinks he might spontaneously combust. The psychological whiplash from this fever dream of a day is making Jimin’s head hurt.
“Can I take your sock off?”
Jimin nods. Might as fucking well.
“Where exactly does it hurt?” Jungkook asks, examining Jimin’s de-socked foot with a gentle touch. Jimin apologizes to the universe for his behavior earlier and sends up another plea that his feet don’t stink. “Your heel, yeah?”
Jimin nods again.
“What type of movement makes it worse?”
As he asks, Jungkook rotates Jimin’s foot by the ankle, pressing it this way and that. Jimin’s toes curl, and not in the good way. Jimin holds his breath, doesn’t let Jungkook see how much it hurts.
“Pretty much everything,” Jimin grits.
“You shouldn’t mask your pain,” Jungkook says without even looking up at Jimin’s face. “I know your activity level’s high, hiking around the world and all,” Jungkook continues. He stops moving Jimin’s foot around. Now he lets it rest on his thigh again, pressing a couple fingers to the inside of Jimin’s ankle. “Do you have any history of previous injury?”
“Are you…taking my foot’s pulse?”
“Answer the question, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “No known hist—”
Without warning, Jungkook squeezes the sides of Jimin’s heel. Jimin yelps, yanking his foot away.
“—ow! What the fuck!”
Jungkook tsks. “You’ve been ignoring this for a while, haven’t you?”
Jimin crosses his arms and pouts. “Maybe.”
“I’d bet good money you’ve got a stress fracture,” Jungkook says, tone admonishing. “You shouldn’t be walking around on that, let alone hiking on it.”
“Since when are you a doctor?” Jimin mumbles. But then jerks with a realization. All he’s done the entire twenty-four hours they’ve been on this island is talk about himself. He hasn’t asked Jungkook a single thing about his life, about the ways he’s filled the past ten years that they’ve been apart. For all Jimin knows, Jungkook could be a doctor. “Wait, are you?”
Jungkook snorts. “Nurse. Well, ex-nurse.”
“Oh. So, you aren’t…? Anymore?”
“Nah,” Jungkook says with a shrug.
Jimin can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant, but there’s something there beneath the surface.
“Why not?” Jimin asks. “You didn’t like it?”
Jungkook looks at his fingers in his lap, fidgeting. This is the first time Jungkook has been anything but teasing or confident since they got here. He looks a lot like the quiet Jungkookie Jimin grew up with.
“No, it wasn’t that. I liked helping people, liked the fast pace,” Jungkook says, still looking down. “But then the pandemic hit when I was barely a year in, and I guess reality finally hit me. We were so short staffed, and I wasn’t paid worth shit. I was so burnt out and couldn’t even afford to live on my own. So I said fuck it and quit about a year ago after living with my parents and saving up for a while. I’m sure you can imagine how proud they were.”
Jimin can almost taste the sarcasm, but he laughs, because he gets it.
“So yeah,” Jungkook concludes. “I’ve always thought photography was cool, and I’ve always liked exploring new places. So now I just travel around, take photos and stuff.”
Jimin could ask about twelve follow-up questions, but he can tell Jungkook is uncomfortable discussing this. He doesn’t want to push the subject, so instead, Jimin reaches over to slap Jungkook’s leg.
“You’re a photographer now? That’s cool!”
“I guess.” Jungkook blushes. Cute.
“Why haven’t you been taking any pictures here, huh?” Jimin asks. He suddenly remembers when they were kids, how they would buy those disposable film cameras and go on adventures, documenting every moment. Jimin wonders what happened to all those snapshots, lost to time. His heart aches, wrapped in nostalgia. “There’s been so many photo ops, no?”
“I’m on vacation,” Jungkook shrugs again. The teasing façade returns. He gives Jimin a little grin that’s probably supposed to look stern, but he mostly just looks really hot. “You’re not supposed to work while you’re on vacation, hyung.”
“That’s a stupid rule.”
“Well, if you didn’t break it, we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” Jungkook goads, reaching over to poke Jimin’s ribs.
“Yah!” Jimin yells, breath chopped up with laughter. He reaches over to poke right back, landing one on Jungkook’s pec. He’s shocked he doesn’t lose his finger in all that muscle. “The disrespect!”
Jungkook catches Jimin’s wrist and wrestles him close. This time, Jimin doesn’t put up much of a fight, letting himself be manhandled.
He almost died, okay? Let him have this.
Eventually they settle down, the exhaustion of the day catching up to them. Jimin’s foot is still throbbing, and he can’t help but think that he could probably learn a thing or two from Jungkook. This past year, all he’s done is push himself, ignoring his body’s screaming signs of burnout. He’s only planned a couple guided hikes for the first couple months of the new year. Jimin wonders if maybe it’s time to follow Jungkook’s lead and pump the brakes, giving himself more than a weekend to rest.
He'll worry about that later.
For now, they sit side-by-side and share stories of their adult adventures. To their surprise, they’ve been to lots of the same areas, some even at the same time.
When Jimin climbed Cerro Castillo in Chile, Jungkook was at Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia. When Jungkook was in Marrakesh, Morocco, Jimin was summiting Mount Toubkal just a few hours’ drive away. They were even in the same city in Switzerland eating at the same restaurants, all within the same week.
They’ve been traveling the world together after all these years, and they didn’t even know it.
“Look at us,” Jungkook says, staring off, probably wondering how the hell they got here. “Life is crazy. I think little Jiminie and Jungkookie would be proud, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Jimin feels breathless. “Sometimes I can’t even believe it. It’s so…surreal. I don’t know what I did to deserve this life, but I’m grateful.”
“You’ve worked your fucking ass off, that’s what,” Jungkook says, eyes as fierce as his voice. “You deserve it all, hyung. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Not even yourself.”
They don’t say much after that.
By the time their ride back to the inn finally arrives, Jimin is comfortable with the silence.
Somehow, between them, it feels full.
❅
“But did we die?”
Jungkook’s mother smacks his shoulder.
“YOU COULD HAVE!”
She pulls Jungkook in for another bone-crushing hug, delivering wet, smacking kisses to his cheeks. Jimin isn’t faring any better, face squished between the vice grip of Mrs. Park’s little hands.
Jungkook can see where Jimin gets it from.
“We should have never let you boys out there, not with the threat of the storm,” Mrs. Park wails, shoving Jimin’s face down to her level.
“You’re the ones who insisted we stay on the island,” Jimin grumbles, voice muffled, lips beaked. “Can you please let go of me?”
She does—they both do—but only after a few more rounds of fussing. Jimin cradles his own jaw, moving it around like it’s been dislodged. Jungkook rubs his shoulder. His mother’s stronger than she looks.
“I just got word from the rest of the group,” halmeoni says, gliding serenely into the room. “They all made it safely to Nari Village.”
“Oh, thank god,” Jungkook’s mother gasps, clutching her chest. “When will they come back?”
“They will have to spend the night there,” halmeoni replies. “The storm hasn’t let up, and the roads are too dangerous. In the morning, they’ll assess the situation and let us know what their plan is.”
“What a mess,” Mrs. Park laments.
“Please don’t worry,” halmeoni soothes. “My sister-in-law owns an inn at the village, and she’s offered them a place to stay. Rest assured, they’ll be warm and well-fed when they return. Come now, I have dinner ready.”
While the women set the table, Jimin and Jungkook once again remove their layers. They do so in silence, but it isn’t awkward. Something shifted between them at the lighthouse, though Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what.
It feels like Jungkook is slowly chipping away at Jimin’s icy exterior, melting away the distrust that’s accumulated over time. He smiles to himself when Jimin takes Jungkook’s arm without a fight, letting Jungkook support him into the dining room.
“Sweetheart, I have a boot from when I injured my ankle a few years back somewhere around here,” halmeoni says, watching Jimin limp around as she guides them to their seats. “I’ll go grab it for you.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Jimin says.
“Why not?” Jungkook prods. He watches halmeoni scurry away, her short stature disappearing down the hallway. “You two are about the same size, no?”
Jimin punches Jungkook’s shoulder.
Jungkook snickers through the pain. At this rate his shoulder’s going to be bruised tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter.
It made Jimin smile. Totally worth it.
Halmeoni indeed returns with a walking boot and a pair of crutches. To Jungkook’s delight, the boot fits Jimin perfectly. When Jungkook announces this to the table, Jimin gives him an exaggerated glare that’s so menacing, it’s cute. As much as Jungkook can tell Jimin wants to rip the boot off, halmeoni is very pleased, and Jimin wouldn’t dare disrespect his elder.
Over their cozy dinner of pumpkin stew and ginger tea, what’s left of their group catches up. Halmeoni asks about the boys’ careers, giving their mothers a chance to brag them up. Jungkook is content just zoning out, slurping up his third helping of soup until Jimin elbows him in the ribs.
“Hm? What?”
“Halmeoni asked what you like to do in your free time,” Jimin nudges, amusement coloring his tone.
“Oh. Um. I mean, I picked up boxing a couple years ago, which is fun. And I game sometimes.” His mother gives him an unimpressed look. “Not as often now that I’ve been traveling,” Jungkook quickly adds, eyes volleying between faces. The weight of everyone’s stares is becoming uncomfortable. “I, uh, like to cook, too.”
“That’s wonderful!” halmeoni praises.
“Reminds me of the experiments you boys would attempt when you were younger,” Mrs. Park says, grinning. “I used to come home to a warzone in my kitchen.”
“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that.” Jungkook cringes. “I’ve definitely improved since then.”
“I wish Jimin could say the same,” Mrs. Park says, voice dry. “Can’t even trust that boy to bring a pot to boil.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not that bad!”
“Remember how competitive they used to be, Jiyeon?” Jungkook’s mother asks, grinning at Mrs. Park. “Always racing each other and wrestling and bickering. If you didn’t know them well, you’d think they couldn’t stand each other, when really, we couldn’t separate them.”
Jimin and Jungkook have grown quiet, shrinking where they sit. Jungkook doesn’t know what to call the warm feeling cycling through his limbs. It’s close to embarrassment, but not quite. Too fluttery, too giddy.
“But let me tell you, they were only allowed to bully each other,” Mrs. Park adds. “Any kid who thought they could pick on them quickly learned their lesson.”
“Yes!” Jungkook’s mother laughs. “I’ll never forget the look on my Jungkookie’s face when we were called into the principal’s office after Jimin decked a bully who had been bothering him.”
“First and last time Jimin ever got in trouble,” Mrs. Park says. She sounds proud. “I don’t think he regretted it one bit.”
“Still don’t,” Jimin says under his breath, but Jungkook hears him loud and clear.
“No!” halmeoni gasps, but she’s grinning ear-to-ear. She’s been listening to their reminiscing, resting a cheek in her palm, happy as can be. The only reason she moves now is to reach up and pat Jimin’s cheek. “This angel wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“It’s true. Jimin was my baby’s protector,” Jungkook’s mother says. “When they were little, Jungkook had a fear of crowds, so Jimin made a habit of grabbing Jungkook’s hand whenever we went out, always kept him close.”
“Ah, but they didn’t need the excuse of being out of the house,” Mrs. Park says, voice soft. “They would hold hands while watching TV, eating, playing in the yard. It made me so sad when they stopped, but even when they were teens, they were always in their own little world.”
Jungkook turns to look at Jimin and finds him already looking back, a blush dusting his cheeks. Jungkook imagines his own are just as pink. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, buckling under the weight of Jimin’s attention, incapable of looking away from Jimin’s shadowed eyes, from the way he licks his lips.
“Looks like they still are,” halmeoni says.
Jimin jolts in his seat, breaking the spell.
“Ah, that was such a long time ago,” Jimin murmurs, ignoring the way Jungkook still studies his profile. “A lot has changed since then, hasn’t it?”
“Has it?” Halmeoni asks, smiling that knowing smile.
There’s a lengthy beat of silence.
“Well, I suppose we better clean this up,” Jungkook’s mother says, standing to clear the table.
“I’ll help!” Jungkook says.
“No, no.” Mrs. Park waves him away. “You keep our pouty Jiminie company. I think he likes you more than he likes me right now.”
“Eomma…”
“I can do that,” Jungkook says, giving Jimin a cheeky smile. Jimin snaps his eyes closed. It almost looks like he’s murmuring something, like a silent prayer. Huh. Jungkook didn’t know Jimin was religious. “Hyung, whatcha wanna do?”
Jimin takes a few more moments and then answers Jungkook aloud, keeping his eyes closed.
“I would like to go to bed.”
“What? It’s so early, hyung, are you sure?” Jungkook squeaks. Jimin sighs and finally reopens his eyes. The look he gives Jungkook is one of fed-up exhaustion. Jungkook already misses the ooey gooey look he gave him just moments ago. “Okay, yeah, you should probably get some rest. It’s been a long day, huh?”
Jimin nods, slow and threatening.
“Do you need help getting to our—er, to your room?” Jungkook asks, stumbling over his words.
He supposes they don’t really need to share a room anymore now that a few have opened up. Jungkook tries not to let his disappointment show on his face.
“No, I’ll be okay,” Jimin says, glaring down at his foot. “Not with halmeoni’s handy dandy boot.”
Jungkook has a hard time believing that.
“Okay…”
Jimin grunts as he stands, wobbling a bit. Jungkook stays by his side, hands held out in case he topples over.
“I’m fine, Jungkook,” Jimin snaps. “Can you hand me the crutches?” After a beat, he adds, “Please?”
Jungkook does, but not without a frown on his face. “Do you even know how to use these things?”
“Yes, of course I do,” Jimin mutters. He proceeds to stick them under his armpits, but there’s clearly something wrong. They might be too short. Or maybe they’re too long? Jimin takes one uneasy, jerky step, wincing in discomfort, and that’s enough for Jungkook. “See? Easy.”
Without a word, Jungkook grabs the crutches, tosses them aside, and scoops Jimin up into his arms. Jimin automatically throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck, clinging on for dear life.
“JUNGKOOK!”
“This is much easier,” Jungkook says, heading towards the hallway with a spring in his step.
“PUT ME DOWN!”
“Is everything okay out there, boys?” one of their mothers calls from the kitchen—which one, Jungkook isn’t sure.
“Yes, eomeoni!” Jungkook hollers.
At the same time, Jimin wails, “NO!”
The women giggle in the kitchen, and Jungkook catches phrases like haven’t changed at all and pretends he doesn’t like it and showing off and big-boy muscles.
Jungkook considers parading Jimin around the inn but decides against it. Jimin’s only just starting to act like Jungkook isn’t the bane of his existence.
Plus, Jimin’s death grip kinda hurts.
So Jungkook clips his way to the room at the end of the hall, bracing Jimin against his chest so he can free one hand to open the door. After carrying Jimin bridal style over the threshold, Jungkook unceremoniously plops Jimin onto the creaky bed.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”
Jimin stares up at Jungkook from his spot on the bed, breathing heavily even though Jungkook’s the one who did all the heavy lifting. Jungkook’s mind wanders to all the other ways he could get Jimin like this. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, hovering over Jimin and his glassy eyes, trying to come up with a reason not to jump Jimin’s bones.
“You should go. I, uh. Need to shower,” Jimin mutters, voice rough. Jungkook blinks himself out of his horny thoughts to allow room for even more horny thoughts and cocks his head to one side. Jimin’s adam’s apple bobs. “Yah. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a kicked puppy.”
“Why not?” Jungkook widens his eyes even further, sticks out his bottom lip. “You think I’m cute like this? Irresistible?”
“Kook-ah,” Jimin chuckles, covering his face with his hands. The nickname and the gesture punch Jungkook straight in the gut. “Please. I just need a minute, okay? We can hang out later.”
“Promise?”
Jungkook doesn’t bother masking the desperation that drips from his voice. Jimin removes his hands from his eyes, giving Jungkook a soft smile. The ache in Jungkook’s gut melts away, warming him from the inside out.
“Promise,” Jimin says.
“At least let me help you into the bathroom,” Jungkook says, holding out a hand to pull Jimin up to his feet—er, to his foot. “Don’t want you falling and breaking your hip, too.”
The softness in Jimin’s lips flits away, flattening into a tight, thin line. Jungkook would be sad about it if Jimin’s attempt at being intimidating wasn’t the cutest, sexiest, loveliest thing he’s ever—
“Fuck off,” Jimin grumbles. He quickly stands, making it a point to glare at Jungkook’s hand he’s still offering. Jimin wobbles, so Jungkook grips Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin tries to writhe out of his touch. “No! I’m fine! Just hand me my crutches.”
“Can’t, sorry. Tossed them into the ether.”
“You tossed them onto the floor, actually,” Jimin grumbles. Jungkook can tell he’s trying not to smile again. Jimin doesn’t protest when Jungkook removes his grip on his shoulder and moves it to his waist. In fact, now Jimin leans into Jungkook’s side. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says proudly. “Let’s go. Unless you want me to carry you again?”
Jimin only sighs, turns his face so that Jungkook can’t see the way his eyes smile even while he rolls them, and begins his limp to the washroom.
Jungkook deposits Jimin carefully on the closed lid of the toilet. He half-teasingly asks Jimin if he needs help undressing, and Jimin takes a swing at his shin with his clunky boot. Only then does Jungkook step out, heading back into the inn’s common area. The moment the bedroom door closes behind him, he’s already thinking of excuses to come and bug Jimin again.
After half an hour of schmoozing halmeoni, Jungkook returns with a plate of fried honey cookies, a bag of frozen peas, and a med kit.
He knocks. There’s a deafening creak.
“Don’t get up!” Jungkook hollers.
Through the door he hears Jimin’s snort, but another telltale creak tells Jungkook Jimin has settled back into bed. Jungkook can barely hear Jimin through the door, but he thinks he hears him say, “What’s the point of knocking?”
So, Jungkook bursts through the door. Jimin is sitting on the bed, hair wet and cheeks pink and wearing nothing but a crumpled towel around his waist. He gives Jungkook an incredulous look. Jungkook tries to remember how to breathe.
“Really? What if I was naked!”
“But…you’re…not?” Jungkook squeaks. Then, under his breath, he says, “Sadly.”
“What’d you just say?”
“I come bearing gifts!” Jungkook shouts, full volume. He holds up his goodies. Jimin narrows his eyes. “What?”
“Frozen peas?”
“For your foot, silly,” Jungkook says.
He kicks the door shut behind him and makes toward the bed. It takes all the strength he has not to stare at Jimin’s nipples. Or his thighs. Is that a tattoo on his ribs?
Yeah, Jungkook’s cooked.
“Let’s get you…” Naked. “…fixed up.”
Jungkook knows exactly what Jimin’s going to say before he even opens his pretty, pouty mouth.
“I’m fine, Jungkook, you don’t have to—”
“Shh,” Jungkook interrupts. He shoves the plate of cookies toward Jimin. “Eat these.”
“Are you trying to shut me up with sweets?”
“Maybe.”
They have a staring contest long enough to make Jungkook’s eyes burn, but Jimin gives in first.
“Well, it’s working,” Jimin says, yoinking a cookie from the plate and shoving the whole thing in his mouth.
Jungkook busies himself spreading out supplies from the med kit so that Jimin doesn’t notice the way his last civilized brain cell is busy fanboying over Jimin’s crooked front tooth. The rest of his lizard brain is coming up with thirteen ways he could defile Jimin’s collar bones. Before he gets himself too excited, Jungkook plops onto the mattress. He hardly even notices the bed creaking over the horny static roaring in his ears when he pats his lap and says, “Alright, then. Feet up.”
When they were kids, there were always two surefire ways Jungkook could get Jimin to do whatever Jungkook wanted—bribe him with sweets or give him his best puppy eyes. Jungkook is zero percent ashamed for using both tactics in one night, because he knows another thing to be true: Jimin doesn’t have to do anything to get Jungkook to do what he wants.
He doesn’t even have to ask.
Thankfully, Jimin’s sweet tooth is very much intact. He stays quiet after gingerly placing his foot atop the cushion of Jungkook’s thighs, happily munching on halmeoni’s honey cookies while Jungkook wraps his injured foot. Jungkook pretends he doesn’t notice how cute Jimin’s toes are, nor that he can see Jimin laughing to himself at the way Jungkook fumbles with the tape. His fingers aren’t behaving, not when his brain keeps telling them to pinch Jimin’s little piggies like a fucking creep.
“Okay!” Jungkook blurts once he’s done a job that would earn him a C- in nursing school, if he was lucky. Jimin scrunches his face when Jungkook pats his foot for a job well done. “Ah, oops. Sorry. I’m…hah…done.”
Jimin snorts. “Thanks, Kook-ah.”
He slowly shifts his foot from Jungkook’s lap back onto the bed. Jungkook lets himself grieve the loss of its weight for three seconds, max, and places the frozen peas under Jimin’s foot.
“Welp,” Jungkook says, cracking his knuckles, looking anywhere but at Jimin’s half-naked body. He hadn’t even noticed Jimin has the fire going. “I suppose…”
“Actually, before you go,” Jimin drawls. His tone isn’t really teasing, but it isn’t innocent, either. Jungkook meets Jimin’s smiling eyes and swallows so hard his throat clicks. “Could you grab me some pajamas from my bag?”
Jungkook hops up like he’s been zapped.
“Oh, yeah! Of course, of course. Um.”
Jungkook crouches down and unzips Jimin’s bag very slowly, very cautiously.
“It’s not a body bag, Kook.”
“Shut up, I don’t know what you have in here,” Jungkook mutters. He throws caution to the wind and rummages around, coming up with the same flannel pants from last night and an oversized shirt that looks awfully familiar. “Yah, is this mine?”
He turns and lifts the shirt for Jimin to see. Jimin’s naked chest temporarily blinds him, horny thoughts slamming back with a vengeance.
“No, I think I got that in college.”
“It’s from our high school taekwondo academy, hyung,” Jungkook says. Jimin shifts his weight in bed, and the muscles in his abdomen flex. Jungkook stays strong. “It is mine!”
“Yeah, exactly, our academy,” Jimin slings back. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face. Jungkook is pretty sure he does, too. “I probably bought it directly from sabom-nim.”
“You mean stole it directly from my closet!”
“Don’t make me go over there,” Jimin threatens.
“Admit you stole it,” Jungkook says, grin fully formed now. He straightens up and saunters over to the side of the bed. Jimin makes grabby hands at the clothes, but Jungkook holds them just out of reach. “C’mon, admit it.”
“Fine. I stole it. Now gimme.”
“You have to mean it,” Jungkook says, smile growing even wider as Jimin’s lips form a pout.
“You’re impossible.” Jungkook just keeps smiling, jerking the clothes away when Jimin makes one last swipe at them before heaving a dramatic sigh. “Fine! Fine. You win. I stole it when I came down from uni to help you pack before your high school graduation party.”
Jungkook feigns shock. “Wooow!”
“But see? I did get it when I was in college.”
“Shameless, this hyung,” Jungkook tsks.
He tosses his shirt and Jimin’s pajama pants into Jimin’s lap. Jimin quickly examines them, then looks back up at Jungkook with a cheeky grin.
Jimin clears his throat. “I need underwear, too.”
Jungkook freezes where he stands.
“Oh. Haha. Right.”
The last thing Jungkook needs is a reminder that Jimin has nothing on under that towel.
He feels silly rummaging around Jimin’s bag again, but he quickly finds what he needs. His blush spreads down his neck, burning hot as he hands Jimin a pair of plain black boxer briefs. He pinches them between two fingers like they’re lingerie.
Fuck. Scratch that.
The very last thing Jungkook needs is a mental image of Jimin in lacy panties.
“Thanks,” Jimin says, taking the boxers.
For the second time, Jungkook asks the million-dollar question. This time, he isn’t teasing at all.
“Do you, uh…” Jungkook gulps. “…need help?”
Jungkook’s blush spreads through his whole body when Jimin throws his head back and laughs.
“Kook-ah, you pervert!”
“What! No!” Jungkook spins on his heel, puts his back to Jimin, and begins grabbing his bags. “Sorry, forget it. I’ll give you some privacy.”
“No, no.” Jungkook freezes, surprised by the softness in Jimin’s voice. “I said I would hang out with you, didn’t I? Just give me a second.”
While crouching in the corner like he’s in timeout, Jungkook tries his best not to put images to the sounds of Jimin getting dressed. He breathes a sigh of relief when hardly a minute later, Jimin says, “Okay, I’m decent.”
Jungkook stiffly stands and turns back around, and there Jimin is on the bed, looking cute and cuddly in Jungkook’s oversized t-shirt. Jungkook’s heart does a complicated tumbling routine in his chest.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Jimin’s smile soars. “You can put those back down.”
Jungkook blinks. He looks down and sees that, yep, he’s still got a couple of his bags in a death grip, knuckles turning white. After carefully putting them back with his suitcase, he shuffles to the bed and meekly sits. The bed must be taking pity on him, because this time, it hardly creaks.
“So what’s with all the bags?” Jimin asks, poking Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook takes that as permission to scoot closer on the bed. “And I thought I was an overpacker.”
“I don’t overpack!” Jungkook whines. “It’s just my clothes, my skincare, my laptop, and my camera.”
“Camera?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook pouts. “So what?”
“I thought you didn’t bring work on vacation,” Jimin teases, reaching up. Jungkook doesn’t even try to dodge it when Jimin pinches his cheek. “An overpacker and a hypocrite. Shame.”
“I take pictures for fun, too,” Jungkook grumbles, freeing his face from Jimin’s wrath and rolling right back off the bed, scuttling over to grab his camera. Once he’s back on the bed and snug against Jimin, he turns it on. The little display screen blinks to life. “See, look.”
Jimin leans close, looking over Jungkook’s shoulder as he clicks through some of his recent photos. Jungkook explains that professionally, he is drawn to landscapes. Still, he likes to dabble with portraits and food, has a growing interest in events and videography. Jimin’s quiet, asking occasional questions as he studies pictures of Jungkook’s family, of his dog, of food and drink and friends from his recent visit to Seoul.
“You still meet up with Mingyu and Eunwoo?” Jimin asks. “I haven’t seen them in forever. How are they?”
For some reason, Jungkook feels guilty telling Jimin about their get togethers. They don’t see each other very often, Jungkook and his ’97 liner buddies, but they make a point to meet at least once a year. Jungkook wonders why he and Jimin have never done the same.
“These are so good, Kook-ah,” Jimin lisps. Jungkook turns his head, looks down to see Jimin’s eyelids drooping. He yawns, and Jungkook almost ruins the moment by sticking his finger in his mouth before he shuts it. Almost. “You’re so good.”
“Thanks, hyung.”
“Are y’tired?” Jimin mumbles, sinking down until he’s got his cheek squished against a pillow. “Look tired.”
“How would you know?” Jungkook teases, adjusting the sheets and blankets so that Jimin is covered and cozy. “Your eyes are closed.”
Jimin says something that doesn’t really make it past his lips, and Jungkook knows he’s lost him. After setting his camera aside and poking the dying fire, Jungkook lowers onto the mattress, too, getting comfortable. He needs to take his things to his new room, and he will. Just a few more minutes here with his hyung, all soft and sweet with slumber.
Jungkook can’t help but think of all the ways he might get Jimin in front of his camera lens. To capture him, to preserve these memories.
He’ll make sure he never loses them again.
❅
Jimin wakes up slowly.
It’s a nice change of pace after yesterday’s fiasco. His senses return one at a time. The room is silent besides the soft hush of steady breaths. Jimin grimaces, a bad taste in his mouth. He realizes he never brushed his teeth after those cookies last night. Ugh.
Jimin shifts, flexing his fingers and toes. He’s so comfortable that he considers trying to fall back asleep. The blankets around him are warm, the pillow beneath him is perfectly firm and smells like sleepy, soapy musk. Jimin breathes it in and groans, fighting wakefulness as long as he can. He could stay here forever, even with an uncomfortable, unmistakable ache between his legs.
But then the pillow shifts and groans, too.
Jimin’s eyes fly open. Suddenly, he’s wide awake.
The light that filters into the room is cool and grey, leaving the details of the bedroom fuzzy around the edges. That doesn’t stop Jimin from seeing the situation he’s found himself in. He lifts his head and flushes when he realizes his pillow isn’t a pillow at all. Jungkook’s chest moves with his breath, his shirt wrinkled where Jimin’s face had been squished. Jimin is mortified as it is, but there’s a tiny disc of drool there, too.
Everything is made worse when Jimin sees that Jungkook already has one eye cracked open, face puffy and flushed with sleep. He must not notice that Jimin’s on the edge of a conniption, because he gives him a lazy half-smile.
“G’morning,” he mumbles, voice deeper than Jimin’s ever heard it. Something tugs low and warm in Jimin’s stomach. Only then does he notice he’s got his hips dangerously close to Jungkook’s side, considering his body is still very much in morning mode. “’M sorry, must have fallen asleep.”
In any other circumstance, Jimin would have a smartass remark, because obviously. This morning, all he can manage is a panicked squeak as he launches himself backwards. In his attempt to put some distance between Jungkook and his predicament, he forgets how narrow this bed is and promptly careens over the edge, landing directly on his tailbone.
“Whoa! Hyung! Shit, you alright?”
The fall knocks the wind out of Jimin, so he just lies there on the floor. Like yesterday morning, he’s taken half the blankets down with him, and the soggy, defrosted bag of peas lands next to him with an unnerving splat. Jimin’s learned his lesson, though; he’s not even going to try and get up this time.
“Ow,” Jimin whimpers. “I think I broke my ass.”
Jungkook breathes an exasperated laugh, and the bed screams in protest as he rolls off to join Jimin on the floor.
“This hyung,” Jungkook tsks, kneeling next to Jimin. He’s still in his clothes from yesterday, entirely rumpled. For some reason, that makes Jimin’s heart squeeze. “Are you trying to leave this place with as many busted parts as you can? First your foot, now your ass…”
“Stop,” Jimin croaks, throwing an arm over his face so that Jungkook can’t see his silent laugh. He offers Jungkook his free hand. “Help me up.”
Jungkook does, pulling Jimin to his feet. He helps support Jimin’s weight as Jimin hops to the bed, plopping back down onto the mattress. As discreetly as he can, he bunches his pajama bottoms in an effort to preserve his dignity. But when he looks up, he catches Jungkook unabashedly adjusting himself through his pants, and Jimin can see everything.
Jimin slaps a hand over his eyes.
“Yah, Jungkook-ah! Really?”
He can’t see it, but Jimin can hear Jungkook’s shameless grin when he says, “What? It’s morning.”
Jimin spreads his fingers and peeks through to make sure Jungkook is finished. He’s just standing by the bed now, looking down at Jimin with something in his eyes Jimin can’t name. Whatever it is, it makes Jimin blush from his ears to his chest.
“You should shower,” Jimin blurts.
Jungkook’s face falls. “Why? Do I stink?”
Jimin remembers breathing him in when he was still half asleep, how fucking good he smelled, even after a sweaty hike and a drowsy night. He wonders what Jungkook would do if he stuck his nose against the first place he could reach, which in this case would be right above Jungkook’s—
“N-no,” Jimin stammers. Quite the opposite, but he keeps that to himself. “You never got to wash up last night, is all. I can leave, give you privacy.”
“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “I can just grab my things and use the hall bath. I don’t mind.”
Jungkook starts turning towards his bags, but Jimin reaches out and grabs his wrist, holds him back. Jungkook blinks at Jimin with big eyes.
“You don’t have to do that, Kook,” Jimin says. He lets his hand slip down Jungkook’s wrist, loosely gripping his hand. When Jungkook slowly wraps his fingers around Jimin’s, his tummy does a thing. “Help me to the bathroom, yeah? I just need to freshen up. If you get the crutches, I’ll go see what our moms are up to while you shower. I know you want to.”
Jungkook opens his mouth, probably to argue, but nothing comes out because Jimin’s probably right.
“But hyung…”
“No buts,” Jimin tuts. For a few beats of loaded silence, they just stare at each other. Electricity hums through Jimin’s veins, flowing through their point of contact, hand in hand, sparking across Jimin’s skin. For the first time since they were kids, Jimin entertains the thought of kissing him. Before he does anything embarrassing, Jimin squeezes Jungkook’s hand. “C’mon.”
After Jimin brushes his teeth and washes his face, Jungkook returns with halmeoni’s crutches with only a few more protests. Jimin brushes them off and makes sure he hears the shower going before he hobbles down the hallway with his crutches and his peas to join the women in the dining room, never bothering to change out of his pajamas.
Before he even sits down, Jimin is presented with barley tea and porridge. He sits with them and visits, warming himself from the inside out. The inn is a bit chilly, though the onsen flooring keeps his toes warm. The snow still rages outside, just as heavy if not worse than yesterday. Halmeoni says there are drifts outside that are so high, they’re blocking the doors.
They’re completely snowed in, but Jimin can’t find it in himself to be the least bit upset about it.
Eventually, Jungkook emerges to join them. He doesn’t hesitate, sitting right next to Jimin at the table, even scooting his chair closer until their shoulders brush. His hair is still wet, cheeks scrubbed pink, smelling as good as he did in bed, if not better.
Jimin shouldn’t stare, but his give-a-fuck meter seems to have officially retired. Even when Jungkook catches him, Jimin doesn’t look away. He just lets the heat of Jungkook’s gaze return the favor, tracing the lines of Jimin’s face, down his neck, his chest, all the way to his hands in his lap.
“How did you boys sleep?” halmeoni asks.
They both jump a bit, caught once again.
“Oh, we—I mean, I slept great,” Jimin stammers.
“Mm,” Jungkook grunts. “Me, too.”
Halmeoni smiles her signature smile.
“Jungkook, sweetheart, were you comfortable in your new room?” she asks, eyes twinkling. If Jimin isn’t mistaken, that twinkle looks like mischief. “I changed the sheets and turned down the bed for you. I hope it was to your liking.”
Jimin peeks at Jungkook and bites his cheek to keep from laughing. Poor guy is beet red, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Actually, halmeoni, Jungkookie and I were hanging out in my room last night, and we both fell asleep,” Jimin says. For some reason, it feels like he’s lying, though every word is true. “It was an accident. I’m sure he will appreciate your hard work tonight when he settles into his new accommodation.”
“You two,” Mrs. Jeon chuckles. She smiles fondly, shaking her head. “Even after all this time apart, you haven’t changed one bit, have you?”
Jimin’s mom laughs, too, chiming in with a story about how Jimin and Jungkook would stay up all night, only to fall asleep at the dinner table. This sparks another trip down memory lane.
Jimin and Jungkook breathe a sigh of a relief.
They spend most of the morning like this, sitting around the table, reminiscing. Jimin and Jungkook even chime in, though their contributions are much less…wholesome.
“Remember when you cut your own hair right before school pictures and you looked like a coconut?”
“Remember when you got food poisoning from eating stinky cheese?”
“Remember when you ate six atomic cup ramens in one sitting and almost broke the toilet?”
“Remember when we filmed that dance cover and you had to change your shirt to hide your—”
“—OKAY, that’s enough!”
When things start getting heated, halmeoni gives Jimin and Jungkook chores to do around the inn to keep them occupied. For the most part, Jimin just watches Jungkook do everything, because the little shit won’t even let Jimin’s feet touch the floor. Jimin sits and watches Jungkook fix a leaky faucet, sits and watches Jungkook sweep the back room, sits and watches Jungkook play sous chef with halmeoni, helping her prepare a batch of mulhoe for dinner.
When his mother nudges his side, giving Jimin a look and jerking her chin toward Jungkook, Jimin bites his tongue. Like Jimin hasn’t noticed how capable Jungkook is with a santoku knife.
Another day, another instance of Jungkook proving that he’s good at everything.
Jimin would be annoyed if it wasn’t so hot.
After dinner, halmeoni shows Jimin and Jungkook where the laundry room is. They didn’t pack for an extended trip, and soon, they’ll run out of clothes. So Jungkook sits Jimin down on the counter and Jungkook gathers their dirty clothes. Jimin gives Jungkook his pajama pants to wash. He ends up sitting there in nothing but his boxers and Jungkook’s taekwondo shirt. Jungkook ends up shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, happily humming as he carefully measures out fabric softener.
“Didn’t know you liked doing laundry so much,” Jimin teases, tugging Jungkooks shirt down to try and cover his thighs. Jungkook’s eyes catch on the movement, going dark. Jimin squeezes his legs together. Jungkook’s throat bobs. “What?”
Jungkook shakes his head like he’s clearing his thoughts and says, “I have some pants you can borrow.”
Jimin doesn’t bother telling Jungkook he has another pair of his own pants he can wear, not when Jungkook hums low in approval once Jimin’s drowning his clothes, head-to-toe.
By the time everyone else has gone to bed, Jimin and Jungkook are still on the couch, putting off the conversation they know they’ll need to have eventually. Jimin rests his feet in Jungkook’s lap, and Jungkook carefully rubs arnica cream into Jimin’s sore muscles. When Jungkook is finished, he puts the cap on the cream and sets it aside, but he still runs a flat hand across the smooth skin of Jimin’s legs.
The silence is heavy and charged, until—
“Do you want to—”
“We should—”
They both speak at the same time.
Then, they both giggle.
“You go,” Jimin says.
“No, you.”
“I wanna know what you were going to say,” Jimin says, putting enough pout into it that he knows Jungkook will fold.
“Aish,” Jungkook breathes. Jimin smiles serenely. He knows he’s got him. “I was gonna ask if you want to watch a movie.”
“Oh, okay,” Jimin says, totally nonchalant, not at all pleased or ecstatic. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Let’s do it.”
For reasons unbeknownst to Jimin, Jungkook has a treasure trove of movies downloaded to his laptop’s hard drive. Most of them are Marvel movies, but Jimin finds a few romance classics. After much deliberation, Jungkook acquiesces to Jimin’s pleas, opening the file for the movie Titanic and pressing play.
By the end, Jungkook’s head is in Jimin’s lap, Jimin’s fingers mindlessly combing through his hair, and they’re both crying.
Jungkook tries to give Jimin shit, that he can feel Jimin’s tears dripping onto his neck, but Jimin can feel the wet spot forming beneath Jungkook’s cheek through the sweatpants Jungkook lent him, can feel the way Jungkook’s breath is chopped up by his sobs.
They turn on another movie, but by then it’s late, even for them. Before long, Jimin feels Jungkook relaxing, head growing heavy. When Jungkook’s puppy snores begin, Jimin carefully shifts Jungkook’s weight off his legs, shuts off the laptop and sets it aside. They had decided to watch the movie in Jimin’s room, but Jimin doesn’t dare wake him. Instead, he puts a pillow under his head and tucks him in beneath the thick mink blanket. Jimin settles in, too, turning his back to Jungkook, sinking into their shared warmth.
It doesn’t take long for him to succumb to slumber, but before he does, he feels Jungkook wrap an arm around his waist. At first he stiffens, déjà vu slamming into him full force. The last time this happened, the last time Jimin gave in, was the last time he saw Jungkook for ten years. He shouldn’t, but just this once, one last time…
Jimin lets himself be pulled close.
❅
When Jungkook wakes up, he’s alone.
The spot next to him on the bed is cold, and he tries not to let the slurry of negative thoughts that flood his brain take over. Once again, he somehow found a way to fall asleep with Jimin by his side, but this time, he may have overstayed his welcome. Jungkook lies there, letting himself fully wake up before he entertains any worst-case scenarios. When his eyes finally adjust, he notices something has changed.
The light in the room is different, like it’s being reflected in, unfiltered. The silence is different, too. Yesterday, it was soft and cocooning. Today, it’s sharp and stifling.
Jungkook throws the blankets off of himself and gets up, shivering when the stagnant, chilly air seeps through his clothes. He shuffles to the window, squinting his eyes until they adjust to the brightness, and he sees the cause.
The snow has stopped.
He doesn’t take the time to appreciate the beauty of the frosty, winter landscape outside. Instead, he grabs the thickest blanket off the bed and wraps it around himself, slipping out of Jimin’s room to find the others.
Relief floods his chest when he finds the other rooms empty, half expecting to see Jimin curled up in someone else’s bed all alone. Heat stings Jungkook’s cheeks when he sees that the room halmeoni turned down for him still hasn’t been touched. He’s out of excuses, now, and for some reason, he has a feeling Jimin isn’t going to cover for him again.
By the time he reaches the end of the hall, he can hear quiet conversation coming from the dining room. He meekly peeks around the corner to find Jimin’s back to him, facing halmeoni, Mrs. Park, and Jungkook’s mother on the other side of the table.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” halmeoni says.
“Good morning,” Jungkook replies. Something heavy drops in his gut when Jimin doesn’t turn to face him. His spine is straight, unmoving. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Park gushes. “Did you see? The snow finally stopped, so the ferries will start running soon. We can go home!”
Everyone sits and stares, waiting for Jungkook’s reaction, but he doesn’t know what to say.
“Oh,” Jungkook sighs. “That’s…”
“Your father and the rest will be back by tomorrow afternoon. Halmeoni says they still have to clear the roads, but finally, we have good news!” Jungkook’s mother says.
Jungkook isn’t sure he would agree.
He had kind of hoped it’d snow forever.
“When do we have to leave?” Jungkook asks.
While their mothers don’t seem to notice the disappointed cloud over Jungkook’s head, Halmeoni’s eyes soften. She gestures at the empty chair next to Jimin, so Jungkook finally shuffles forward and takes a seat. Halmeoni reaches across the table to take Jungkook’s hand, but Jungkook’s eyes drift instinctively towards Jimin. Jimin keeps his eyes on the table, hands wrapped around his empty mug.
“My guess is that the ferries will run the day after tomorrow,” Halmeoni says.
“On Christmas?” Jungkook croaks.
“We’ll get to see your brother for the holidays after all!” Jungkook’s mother cheers.
Halmeoni gives Jungkook’s hand a comforting squeeze before shifting her attention, asking about Jungkook’s brother. That launches Jungkook’s mother and Mrs. Park into a brag fest over Junghyun’s law firm and Jihyun’s engineering degree.
Jungkook forces his shoulders to relax, cracking his neck. Jimin is still stiff as a board at his side, so Jungkook scoots closer.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?” he whispers.
Jimin finally lifts his head, arranging his features into what Jungkook thinks is supposed to come off as confusion.
“What? Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” Jimin says.
“Are you cold?”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for Jimin’s answer, just unwinds the blanket from his shoulders and drapes it over Jimin’s back.
“No, wait, I’m not—”
“There,” Jungkook says, ignoring Jimin’s protests. “Better?”
“You are ridiculous.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but reluctantly tugs the blanket closer. The worry tangled up in Jungkook’s gut loosens, just a little.
“Sorry for falling asleep in your room again,” Jungkook says, trying to bridge whatever gap has formed between them. “Probably kept you up all night with my snoring, eh?”
At that, Jimin snorts.
“Not all night…”
Jungkook gives Jimin his best nose-scrunch-pout combo, side crunching when Jimin reaches over to poke his ribs. Jungkook catches Jimin’s hand and pulls it into his lap, playing with Jimin’s fingers. Jimin falls silent.
“So, what do you want to do on our last day here?” Jungkook asks, laying Jimin’s fingers flat, palm up, tracing his lifeline.
“We still have tomorrow,” Jimin murmurs.
“Not to ourselves,” Jungkook says, head popping up to meet Jimin’s eyes. They’re almost as soft as his hands. “Let’s make the most of it, hm?”
Jimin nods, and though it looks forced, he smiles a small smile.
After helping clear the table, Jimin and Jungkook get dressed. Halmeoni mentions something about snow clearing services taking a while to make it out to the inn, so Jungkook grabs the first shovel he can find and begins digging themselves out of the snow. Jimin offers to help, which Jungkook just laughs at, nudging him away. Still, Jimin sticks around, plopping himself on top of a snow pile to watch Jungkook work.
Once the walk is cleared, Jungkook is sweating under his coat. He goes inside to grab halmeoni and his camera. She praises Jungkook’s efforts, beaming when Jungkook offers to take pictures of the inn. The building has turned into a wintery castle, snow drifted up to the windows, icicles dripping off the eaves.
While Jungkook’s hands are full, eye pressed to the viewfinder, he feels something hard crash into his shoulder, throwing him off-balance. Halmeoni still stands in the doorway, watching and laughing. When Jungkook gives her a wide-eyed look, she tilts her head, shifting Jungkook’s attention to where Jimin once sat.
Now, instead of a snow pile, there’s a fort.
“What the fuck?”
Jimin’s head pops up, the rest of his body shielded from the wall of snow he’s built while Jungkook’s attention was elsewhere. Well, this is what he gets for losing sight of his real muse.
Jungkook blinks.
Another snowball hurtles towards his head.
He ducks out of the way, something bubbling bright in his chest at the sound of Jimin’s delighted laugh.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” Jungkook hollers, basking in Jimin’s second round of giggles. “It’s on, Park!”
Jungkook hands his camera over to halmeoni, who watches on with a smile that makes Jungkook feel like all his outer layers have been shed. He stomps over to Jimin’s admittedly impressive fort, breath condensing in his face when he bends over to gather a chunk of snow the size of Jimin’s head. A couple more of Jimin’s compact snowballs beam into his side, his thigh, his ass. He ignores them and turns toward Jimin, lifting his mega snowball over his head.
“No!” Jimin squeals when he sees Jungkook is ignoring his fort, walking around the back. “Not fair! You can’t—”
“Watch me,” Jungkook goads.
Jimin starts crawling away, not even attempting to hobble onto his feet. The boot on his bad foot is already packed with snow, and Jungkook reminds himself to help Jimin change out his socks later. But that’s for later. Now, Jungkook shows no mercy, dropping the snow he’s gathered on Jimin’s back. It isn’t compacted together so it breaks apart, sliding off Jimin’s back with ease, but Jimin still screams like he’s been shot.
They laugh and laugh as Jungkook joins Jimin on the ground, playfully wrestling around. Jimin grabs a handful of snow and tries to shove it into Jungkook’s coat, but Jungkook straddles Jimin’s hips, holding him down, ripping his own gloves off to stick his icy fingers against Jimin’s flushed neck.
“Mercy, mercy!” Jimin gasps, laughing so hard that tears start rolling down his temples. “Stop, you win!”
Jungkook lets up, sitting back, letting his weight rest on top of Jimin’s thighs. They’re both breathing hard, smiling at each other like a challenge, like they expect the other to attack any second.
Jungkook could stay here all day.
“You boys get up,” halmeoni calls. “Let me get a picture of you.”
Jimin takes the hand Jungkook offers, but instead of lifting Jimin to his feet, Jungkook hoists Jimin up and over his shoulder, giving his ass a sharp smack. Jimin yelps and squirms, but Jungkook only lets him go once they’re in front of the inn.
“Okay, smile!” halmeoni says, and Jimin and Jungkook stand there side-by-side, frozen where they stand. Jungkook waits for the click, but it never comes. Halmeoni gives Jungkook an apologetic look. “Ah, sweetheart, you’re going to have to show me how to use this thing.”
They all laugh, and Jungkook gives halmeoni a quick crash course on all the buttons and features on his camera. Once she’s ready, Jungkook returns to Jimin’s side. They say kimchi and pose, but Jungkook can’t help but glance at Jimin, at the way his eyes melt into his cheeks, the way he grips the front of Jungkook’s coat, the way he just shines.
“Beautiful,” halmeoni says once the shutter clicks, quickly glancing at the preview photo before handing it back to Jungkook. “You two are just beautiful.”
Jungkook holds the camera so that Jimin can look, too. Neither says a word. There is only one photo, and though it’s a little off-center and the lighting isn’t great, Jungkook can’t help but agree. In the picture, Jimin looks directly into the camera, cheeks and nose so pink they’re almost red, blond hair damp at the tips, bright smile taking up half his face.
Jungkook isn’t even looking at the camera.
He’s smiling, but it’s an afterthought. All his attention is on Jimin, the adoration in his eyes so blatant and loud it would be embarrassing if Jungkook cared at all.
But he doesn’t. Let them know.
“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, peeking up at Jimin to see his reaction. Jimin is still quiet, eyes still trained on the photo preview, an emotion on his face that Jungkook doesn’t have a name for. “Thank you, halmeoni.”
Once everyone is inside, Jimin and Jungkook remove their sodden outerwear and hang them to dry, and Jimin rids himself of his damp socks and boot. They sit by the fire without talking much at all. Jungkook notices Jimin has grown quiet again. To his relief, Jimin doesn’t protest when he rearranges their positions until Jimin’s feet are in his lap, warming his toes.
After a quick lunch, halmeoni says that the main roads are probably clear, so Jungkook gives Jimin his best puppy eyes and proposes an adventure.
It doesn’t take much convincing.
Just like he did on the mountain, Jimin hops on his back, and they begin their trek. They walk through town, only catching a few curious glances every time Jungkook playfully bounces Jimin, just to hear him laugh.
The village feels like a movie set, especially beneath several feet of fresh snow. Everything blends together, white on white on white. White buildings with white roofs, white streets and white trees. Snow packed mountains loom on three sides, light grey clouds drooping low to brush their peaks. The only contrast is the slate-colored sea laid out before them. The harbor yawns wide until it kisses the horizon, white on black, black on white.
Jungkook doesn’t know where he’s going, but the road takes them to an empty, rocky beach. They find a good place to sit without saying a word. The silence that felt scary before now feels serene, safe. Jungkook wonders if Jimin can feel it too, if he’s trying to preserve these moments without spooking them away.
They sit and stare at the sea for what feels like minutes but could be hours. After a while, Jungkook leans over to rest his head on Jimin’s shoulder. For a few breaths, Jimin doesn’t move, but then Jungkook feels Jimin shift his weight.
He rests his cheek against Jungkook’s hair.
Though the clouds are too thick for them to watch the sun set, they can tell when the light starts to change. The world transforms from brilliant to diluted, saturated to pale. It’s like the island has gone to rest, leaving its ghost in its wake.
So Jimin and Jungkook retrace their steps back to the inn. The whole way, Jimin tucks his frozen nose into Jungkook’s neck, murmuring in his ear to be mindful of loose rocks and slick ice. The whole way, Jungkook wonders what Jimin would do if Jungkook turned his head quick enough to kiss whatever his lips find.
They spend the rest of the evening eating dinner and playing games with halmeoni and their mothers, laughing and chatting and drinking. Jungkook stays close to Jimin’s side, quick to refill his drink before Jimin has to ask for it.
Jimin is still quiet, enough for Jungkook to feel uneasy, but not enough to keep his hands off of his hyung. He makes sure they are maintaining at least one point of contact, whether that be their shoulders, their hips, Jungkook’s hand on Jimin’s thigh or his arm around his waist. Jimin never shrugs him off, but he never initiates the touch. Jungkook tries not to worry. This is their last night alone; he doesn’t want to waste it.
But with each and every moment, it slips away.
Tonight, Jungkook doesn’t ask if he can come into Jimin’s room, doesn’t try to come up with an excuse, doesn’t hesitate at all, and Jimin doesn’t try to stop it.
They get ready for bed together, brushing their teeth side by side in the mirror. They wash their faces with the same cleanser and turn back-to-back to change into their pajamas. Jungkook starts a small fire, pokes the flame until warmth seeps through the room.
Neither says a word when they crawl into bed together, lying on their sides, facing each other. Their knees knock beneath the covers. Jimin looks at Jungkook like he’s waiting for something to happen, eyes darting across Jungkook’s face, from one feature to the next.
They land on his lips.
“Hyung?”
“Hm?”
“Why do I feel like we’ve been here before?”
Jimin’s brow furrows, then lifts.
“Probably because we’ve shared this bed three nights in a row,” Jimin teases.
Jimin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“No, I mean…” Jungkook swallows hard. “This feels different.” When Jimin doesn’t say anything, just lies there and lets his eyes drop, chewing his lip, Jungkook tries to shake it off. “Nevermind, forget it.”
“You really don’t remember?”
Jungkook stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“The last time we saw each other?” Jimin asks, eyes still cast away, tracing the shape of Jungkook, never meeting in the middle. “The last time we talked?”
Jungkook’s stomach drops.
When was the last time they talked?
It’s what he’s been dancing around this whole trip, not letting himself dwell on the past. He has never understood why he and Jimin lost touch.
The last time he saw Jimin was at his high school graduation party. He remembers that night, at least some of it, but for the life of him, he can’t remember the last time they talked.
All of Jungkook’s memories after graduation don’t include Jimin. Jungkook went straight into his military service, just like Jimin had. When they were kids, they had always talked about going together, that maybe the time would pass faster if they had each other to lean on. But Jimin wanted to start university as soon as possible, and Jungkook had no chance of graduating early.
It always felt like he was trying to catch up to him, running and running, but every time he was close enough to touch, just about to put his hands on him, he missed.
“What happened to us, hyung?” Jungkook whispers. Even with his voice so low, it still cracks. “How come you never texted me? Or called? Or…sent an email, I don’t know…”
Jimin’s lips twitch.
It’s almost a smile, but not quite.
“Why didn’t you?” Jimin asks.
“Because you always did first!”
Jungkook says it and wishes he could take it back when Jimin flinches, even though it’s true. Because Jimin did always reach out first. He was the first to come over to the Jeons’ household and ask Jungkook if they could play. He was the first to introduce Jungkook to the video games Jungkook liked the best, the first to ask Jungkook over for dinner or to invite himself, the first to meet Jungkook after class to take the bus, the first to pour Jungkook a shot of soju.
And it all goes back to his graduation party.
He remembers the first shot, and the second, and the third, but after that, things get blurry. He thinks Jimin stayed the night with him, made sure he didn’t get sick. He shoved glass after glass of water into Jungkook’s hands, let Jungkook pull him into bed, let him hold him close.
But in the morning, Jungkook woke up alone.
“At my graduation party—something happened, didn’t it?”
Knees knocking under covers, eyes swimming with more than words can say.
“Yes,” Jimin whispers. “It did.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just waits.
After a few deep breaths, Jimin shakes his head.
“You really don’t remember?”
“No, hyung,” Jungkook urges. “I was drunk.”
“Yeah,” Jimin winces. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it go as far as I did.”
“You weren’t forcing the drinks down my throat.”
“No, I guess not.” Jimin sighs. “But I wasn’t being a very good influence. And you got very drunk, so I made everyone else go home, and we went to bed.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Jungkook says. And because he can’t stand even the short distance between them now, Jungkook puts his hand on Jimin’s waist and pulls him closer. “And you took good care of me. You always did.”
Always do.
“Tell me what happened, hyung. Please.”
Jimin seems flustered for a second before he melts. Jungkook tangles their legs together. Jimin reaches up to brush Jungkook’s hair out of his eyes. His hand lands at Jungkook’s nape, slips down his shoulder, runs down his arm. Jimin grabs Jungkook’s wrist and adjusts Jungkook’s hand on his back, resting it comfortably in the dip of his waist. The tip of Jungkook’s finger slips under Jimin’s shirt, brushes his skin.
“Well, we were lying in bed, just like this,” Jimin continues, eyes bouncing between Jungkook’s. “And I thought you were about to fall asleep, but then…”
He hesitates.
Jungkook’s heart pounds in his throat.
“But then?”
“Then, ah.” Jimin takes another deep breath. “Then, out of nowhere, you asked if you could kiss me.”
Jungkook jolts. The world stops spinning.
“And I said yes.”
Jungkook instinctively opens his mouth to tell Jimin to quit lying, to stop teasing, because there is no way in hell Jungkook would forget kissing Jimin.
But then he sees the way Jimin’s face visibly warms, a blush dusting his cheeks, creeping slowly down his neck. He sees the way Jimin can no longer meet Jungkook’s eyes, stare fixed on Jungkook’s lips as he licks his own.
Déjà vu kicks Jungkook in the gut.
Because—holy fuck.
“I kissed Park Jimin,” Jungkook breathes.
“You kissed me,” Jimin echoes.
Jungkook feels like he’s seeing sounds and hearing colors. Like he could climb up to the roof of this little inn and jump onto the clouds. Like he could scale past the stars until he reaches the moon. Like he could pull it down and shape it to match his heart. Like he could crash back to earth and give it to Jimin because it’s irrefutably his.
“But then,” Jimin says, and the warm ecstasy cycling through Jungkook’s veins crystalizes.
“Oh no,” Jungkook groans. “I was terrible, wasn’t I? I was drunk and it was my first kiss—you were my first kiss, what the fuck—and I was terrible.”
Jimin chuckles, soft and breathy.
“You’re good at everything, Kook-ah,” Jimin murmurs. “You think kissing would be an exception?”
Jungkook stares blankly.
An embarrassing sound bubbles up from his chest.
“Now, as I was saying,” Jimin says, grinning. “You kissed me. And continued kissing me. For…a while.”
Jungkook is no longer of this earth.
“When we stopped to breathe, I told you we needed to talk about this when you were sober,” Jimin continues. “You agreed, and you promised to call me in the morning, because I had to go home, and you were leaving the next day.”
“And I never did,” Jungkook says, ice returning to his veins even though he’s pretty sure his entire body’s on fire. “I never called, or texted, or anything. Because I fucking forgot.”
Jimin grimaces. “I’m really sorry.”
“You—you’re—what?!” Jungkook splutters. “Why are you apologizing?”
“I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place. We were young, and drunk, and our lives were going in two separate directions.”
“They didn’t have to, though!”
“But they did.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, feeling both resplendent and ruined. “And now we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Jimin says, looking both relieved and regretful. “Now we’re here.”
“I always thought you were just busy with school,” Jungkook mumbles, lips tingling. Perhaps he’s in shock. “That you’d reach out when you graduated.”
“Well that would have never happened, because I didn’t graduate,” Jimin says, snorting a humorless laugh.
“Huh?”
At this point, Jungkook’s brain is mush.
Smitten, stricken mush.
“I dropped out,” Jimin says, matter of fact. “Not long after your party, actually. I wasn’t doing very well.” When Jungkook lifts a disbelieving brow, Jimin snorts again. “No, no, not academically. Mentally. Emotionally.”
“Because of me?” Jungkook’s chest feels like it could cave in. Jimin doesn’t say anything right away, so Jungkook releases the breath caught in his throat. “Hyung…”
“It wasn’t just that,” Jimin says, voice small. “I was embarrassed. Thought you regretted everything that happened last night. For some reason, that made me second guess everything. My degree, my dreams, my direction. I had joined an outdoors club my first year, and I realized that was the only thing I really enjoyed. So I dropped out, and I started guiding hikes. And…yeah. You’re not the only one to make your parents unbelievably proud.”
Jimin laughs, trying to lighten the mood with thick sarcasm, but Jungkook doesn’t laugh, not now.
“I didn’t know…”
“I know,” Jimin says, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair at his nape. “It’s okay.”
Now that they’ve laid it all out there, there isn’t much else going through Jungkook’s mushy brain besides one incessant, repetitive desire that he’s been fighting this whole trip.
Jungkook wants to kiss him.
He wants to kiss him so badly.
The only thing that’s stopping him is that he doesn’t want it to feel like an apology. He doesn’t want Jimin to get the wrong idea, wants to make sure he understands Jungkook’s message loud and clear.
But fuck, he needs to kiss him.
He can’t stop staring at Jimin’s lips. At the way Jimin’s teeth pick nervously at them. At the way the skin blooms pink from the abuse. At the way they shine when Jimin’s tongue peeks out to soothe.
“Why do you always stare at my nose?”
That snaps Jungkook back to attention.
“Why do I—what? I’m not…”
Jimin scrunches his nose in a pout, so now Jungkook is staring at it, and it’s decidedly the cutest nose on the planet.
“Is my pimple that bad?” Jimin asks. “Do I have a booger? This whole trip, you just keep staring and—”
“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook interrupts, grinning, trying not to laugh. Jimin scoffs in faux offense at the drop of honorifics, but Jungkook can see the way it makes him blush all pretty and pink. Noted. “I’m not staring at your nose, though it’s an objectively perfect nose.” Jimin rolls his eyes at that. “I’m staring at your mouth, silly.”
Jimin’s mouth pops open, forming a little ‘o’ like he’s shocked. Jungkook thinks he’s been pretty obvious, but it must not have been enough for Jimin.
It’s time to throw caution to the wind.
Fuck it.
His hand lifts from the small of Jimin’s back and moves to Jimin’s face, fingertips tracing the faint freckles dotted along the curve of his cheek before cupping it in his palm. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, shifting his weight until he’s close enough to dip down and swallow Jimin’s little squeak of surprise right off his lips.
Jungkook decides he doesn’t mind forgetting their first kiss so much anymore, because now, he gets to have another.
❅
Jimin wakes with his lips still tingling.
Never in his life has Jimin made out with someone so long, so deep that his body took over, pushing pause and pulling him into sleep without his permission. If it hadn’t, they probably would have kept it up all night long. But now pale light trickles in through the window, and Jimin feels rested.
He’s wrapped in the heavy, comfy warmth of Jungkook’s arms, nose pressed against the smooth expanse of Jungkook’s throat. They lie side by side facing each other, every inch of them touching—legs tangled beneath the blankets, chests pressed together, breathing in sync. Last night, they had tossed each other’s shirts across the room, so they’re skin on skin, little sparks of electricity flowing between each point of contact.
Jimin’s body doesn’t waste any time, now.
Jungkook’s skin is hot to the touch. Jimin drags his hand up Jungkook’s arm, over his shoulder, along his back to feel his muscles shift as he stirs, to curl his fingers in Jungkook’s hair, to hold him in place.
All he has to do is tilt his head, and his lips find what they’ve been missing while they slept.
Jimin presses a kiss right on the mole that dots Jungkook’s neck, and Jungkook sighs. He does it again, and Jungkook’s hands run down Jimin’s back, stopping just above the waistband of Jimin’s sweatpants, pulling him closer by the hips. The third time he does it, Jimin sucks the skin past his lips, running his tongue over it, gripping it gently between his teeth, and Jungkook moans.
Then he shifts his weight, sliding his thigh between Jimin’s legs, grinding forward so that Jimin can feel his arousal pressed against his stomach.
Jimin only releases the skin of Jungkook’s neck when Jungkook starts whining, and when he pulls back to look at his artwork, he’s pleased by the pink and purple beginning to bloom. He pulls back, just so he can meet Jungkook’s glazed-over eyes and see his reaction when Jimin presses a thumb to the bruise. Jimin bites his bottom lip and Jungkook sucks in a quick breath.
Before Jimin can ask how it feels, Jungkook lurches forward, crashing their lips together.
There’s no way to tell how long this kiss lasts. All he knows is that it’s long enough to send his head into the clouds, long enough to squeeze the air from his lungs, long enough to give the ache between his legs a heartbeat. It’s strange, because though they haven’t seen each other in ages, haven’t held each other in years, it’s like they never stopped.
Jimin is about to push Jungkook onto his back so that he can climb on top and finish what they’ve started, but a familiar, ear-splitting scream jolts them apart.
“Ow!”
“Fuck! What—?!”
Jimin holds his nose, eyes watering after a collision with Jungkook’s head. Jungkook isn’t faring any better. After a collision with Jimin’s knee, he rolls away from Jimin with one hand cradling his family jewels, one hand fumbling around for his phone. The screaming doesn’t stop, only growing in volume the longer they let it go. It takes Jungkook a few attempts to successfully punch in his passcode, but eventually, Jungkook manages to turn off the alarm.
After tossing his phone aside, he turns back over to face Jimin and uses both hands to cup his balls, curling up into the fetal position, face a little pale.
Silence stretches for one, two, three breaths.
They make eye contact.
Jimin presses his lips together, trying to keep a straight face. Jungkook’s composure wobbles. Then, they break the silence and fall into a fit of uncontrollable, belly-aching laughter.
“Why—the fuck,” Jimin wheezes, speaking between his giggles, “would you set an alarm?”
“I didn’t!” Jungkook wails, cheeks straining with his smile, tears beading up in the corners of his eyes. The light in the room is muted, but they still shine. “It’s a reoccurring weekday alarm, I didn’t even think about it!”
Honestly, Jimin hadn’t realized it was the start of a new week, either. Time passes differently on Ulleungdo, frozen and washed away by the sea and the snow.
“Well, if it didn’t feel like Monday before, it sure does now,” Jimin jokes, pinching his nose to see if it’s bruised.
Jungkook winces when he straightens up, but his coloring is back to normal. Jimin’s knee must not have done any permanent damage. Jimin watches him closely as Jungkook scoots close again, reaching out to gently grip Jimin’s chin, turning his head this way and that.
“It’s a little swollen,” Jungkook tsks. “Sorry, hyung. But hey, at least now you’re all evened out.”
Jimin frowns. “Huh?”
“Broken foot, broken ass. You were bottom heavy.” Jungkook gives Jimin a lazy, teasing half-grin, and Jimin can’t decide whether he wants to smack him or smooch him. “A broken nose should do the trick.”
“You little—”
After wrestling around, Jimin eventually pins Jungkook down, straddling his hips, holding his hands above his head. The chances that Jungkook actually lost their little homoerotic sparring session are low but never zero, so Jimin considers it a win.
Jungkook offers no resistance when Jimin leans down to peck his lips, just looking up at his hyung with stars in his eyes.
“What’re you gonna do, hm?” Jungkook asks.
He’s probably trying to goad Jimin, but his voice is soft and low, barely audible. Though they’ve both gone soft in their pants, warmth trails down Jimin’s spine and pools low. He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, there’s a knock at the door.
“Jimin-ah? You awake, honey?”
Of course, it’s his mother.
“Yeees?”
Jimin does his best to keep his tone polite, sending up a prayer to the universe that she doesn’t barge in, because Jimin has no intention of climbing out of Jungkook’s lap.
“Is Jungkookie in there, too?”
Jimin hesitates and looks down at Jungkook.
Jungkook just scrunches his nose and shrugs.
“Yeees…”
“I thought so,” his mother says, and Jimin can hear her knowing smile. A blush warms his cheeks. “Breakfast is ready! You boys wash up and come out before it gets cold.”
When he hears her footsteps fade away, Jimin deflates, tucking his nose back into the crook of Jungkook’s neck, whining low in his throat. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again, caught sneaking a boy into his room. Jungkook huffs a laugh, and when Jimin relinquishes his hold on his wrists, he lowers his arms to run his hands soothingly up and down Jimin’s back.
“We should probably get up,” Jungkook murmurs, sneakily sliding his hands lower until he’s cupping Jimin’s ass, giving his cheeks a squeeze.
“You’re giving me mixed signals,” Jimin giggles, lips gliding over Jungkook’s fresh love bite. They’re going to have fun trying to explain that to their parents. He begrudgingly lifts himself up onto his elbows, looking down at Jungkook. “Would you like to stay here, or would you like to help me to the shower?”
Jungkook visibly glitches, jaw going slack.
“Help you? L-like…” He gulps.
Jimin laughs, throwing his head back.
“Not like that, you pervert,” Jimin chides. Jungkook pouts, guiding Jimin’s hips with his hands still on Jimin’s ass until Jimin can feel that his arousal has returned. Jimin snorts, feigning nonchalance, though he can feel himself twitch in his pants. It’s going to be a long day. “Kook-ah…”
“Fine, fine,” Jungkook sighs, releasing his hold and crunching up to place a very careful kiss on the tip of Jimin’s nose. “I’ll behave.”
He stays true to his word, at least until they make it safely to the bathroom without further injury. When Jimin turns and bends over to turn on the shower, though, Jungkook grips his pajama bottoms from behind and yanks them down, dodging Jimin’s weak attempts to grab him and sprinting out the door.
When Jimin finishes with his shower, he limps out to the dining room and joins everyone. He sits at the table across from Jungkook, noticing Jungkook’s matching wet hair. He must have used the hallway bathroom. Jimin feels a little guilty about it, but Jungkook distracts him by playing footsies with him under the table, and all guilt is thrown out the window.
Once the table is cleared, Jimin chats with his mother about their plans to return home the next day. While she blabs about Jihyun and his fiancé meeting them for dinner, Jimin watches Jungkook whisper in the corner with halmeoni and daydreams about cuddling in front of the fire, holding hands and stealing kisses.
But then Jungkook and halmeoni separate and Jungkook approaches Jimin, and the look on his face makes something sharp tug in Jimin’s gut.
“What?” Jimin asks, interrupting his mother. She gives him a stern look, which he ignores. “What is it, Kook-ah?”
“Don’t look so worried, hyung,” Jungkook laughs, but he sounds worried. “Just wanted to tell you I’m going into town for a little bit, but I’ll be back later.”
“Oh.” Jimin frowns. “I’ll come!”
“No!” Jungkook says, voice caught somewhere between apologetic and panicked. He clears his throat, tries again. “No, hyung, I’m sorry, but I need to go alone.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just running a few errands for halmeoni,” Jungkook says, and Jimin could sniff out the lie from miles away. “You stay warm and cozy here, hyung, I won’t be long.”
While Jungkook puts on his layers, Jimin awkwardly stands in the entryway and watches, resisting the urge to give him a dramatic hug goodbye. He needs to cool it. Just a few kisses and cuddles, and Jimin’s already like this? What’s he going to do when they actually have to say goodbye?
“Hey.” Jungkook’s suddenly standing right in front of Jimin. Jimin must have been spacing out, and he’s mortified when he realizes there are fucking tears in his eyes. Jungkook cups Jimin’s face between gloved hands, scratchy fabric rough on Jimin’s cheeks. Jungkook keeps his voice low when he says, “It’s not that I don’t want to take you, you know that, right? If I could, I’d strap you to my back and take you everywhere I go.”
Jimin snorts, but mostly, he pouts.
“You did all weekend, what’s stopping you now?”
Jungkook chews his cheek like he wishes he could say something but is holding back. Oh, the things that Jimin would do to pick this boy’s brain. Jungkook looks around to make sure the coast is clear before giving Jimin a quick kiss.
“Don’t have too much fun with halmeoni without me.” Jungkook waggles his eyebrows. “She says she’s preparing a feast.”
Jimin doesn’t resist rolling his eyes.
“I’ll be on sauce duty, I already know,” Jimin complains, and Jungkook giggles. “I’ll try to contain my excitement.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jungkook cheers. He gives Jimin one more lingering kiss, then gives him a heavy look and murmurs, “I’ll hurry back, yeah? Can’t wait for tonight, baby.”
Jungkook steps out into the bright winter morning, snow and ice crunching beneath his boots, and Jimin just stands there with warm cheeks, blank-faced and blinking.
He has a feeling he isn’t talking about the food.
Jimin makes a valiant effort trying to pry information out of halmeoni, but she only gives him sly smiles and vague answers when he asks what Jungkook is up to, so Jimin gives it up. He indeed is put on sauce duty, ordered to sit at the tiny table in the corner of the kitchen while the women flit around, preparing an extravagant dinner for thirteen.
Lunchtime comes and goes with no sign of Jungkook. Jimin tries not to fret, distracting himself with conversation and the aroma that’s begun filling the inn. The women let him taste test every dish, and with a few bites of galbi, bulgogi, japchae, and mandu, Jimin’s had his fill. Still, halmeoni gives him some gimbap from the fridge, and by early afternoon, he’s already stuffed.
With everything prepped and ready for the night, Jimin and the women lounge in the common area. The fireplace crackles, halmeoni tells tales of growing up in the village, and Jimin stares into the fire, willing time to move more quickly.
What could Jungkook be doing that’s taking him all day? Jimin’s starting to get a little bitter about it. It’s their official last day on the island, and this is how he wants to spend it?
By the time there’s a ruckus in the entryway, Jimin’s decided he’s going to give Jungkook a detailed, unfiltered piece of his mind.
Jimin, halmeoni, his mother, and Mrs. Jeon all bodily turn in their cozy seats to watch an entourage of men pour into the inn. They’re all rosy cheeked, smelling like wind and cold. First, the other group of travelers file in one by one. Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung are all smiles, waving big at Jimin as they hastily begin shedding their layers and hanging them up wherever they can find space. Harabeoji, Jimin’s father, and Mr. Jeon take up the rear, and the women all jump up to their feet, hurrying over to greet their loves with teary, heartfelt kisses.
The door shuts behind them, and Jimin straightens in his seat, trying to catch sight of a bunny smile and doe eyes, but it looks like Jungkook isn’t with them.
Jimin doesn’t even try to hide his sulking.
It doesn’t help when one of the first things Taehyung says once everyone has settled comfortably in the common area is, “Hey, where’s Jungkook?”
Literally everyone turns to look at Jimin.
“Well don’t ask me,” Jimin grumbles, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “I have no idea, I don’t keep track of him.”
Taehyung’s brows disappear beneath his shaggy bangs. He lifts his hands in innocence and tries to hide his smile.
“Sorry, I was just asking!” he says, chuckling and nudging Namjoon beside him with an elbow. Though he mumbles under his breath, Jimin can still hear when he says, “See? Small but mighty.”
“Jungkookie will be back any minute,” halmeoni says, halting Jimin from showing Taehyung just how small but mighty he can be. “Why don’t you boys just sit back and relax while we finish getting dinner ready, hm?”
The group gives their polite thanks and Jimin thinks he can get away with shrinking in the corner and staying quiet, but once again, everyone faces him.
“So, Jimin-ssi, whatever happened to you and Jungkook back on the mountain?” Namjoon asks, and though Taehyung had been teasing earlier, Namjoon’s tone is sincere.
Jimin tries to remember all the details of his and Jungkook’s close encounter. It feels like Jimin has lived three lifetimes between then and now, though it’s only been a few days. He tells the story of how they followed the trail down as far as they could, how the storm quickly got worse, how Jungkook carried Jimin halfway down the mountain, how they somehow found the lighthouse and made it home.
“Wow,” Seokjin gasps, face mirroring the others’ stunned looks. “Jungkook carried you? What a beast!”
The group erupts into at least three different conversations, all centered around Jungkook’s bravery, Jungkook’s inhuman strength, Jungkook’s aptitude. Then, like their praise had summoned him, the inn’s front door swings open and in walks the man of the hour.
Jungkook startles when all the guys yell a greeting and rush him like a herd of fanboys, fumbling with the gigantic box precariously balancing in his arms. Halmeoni and their parents come rushing out, too, everyone acting like the prodigal son has returned. Still, Jungkook’s eyes search above heads and around shoulders until they meet Jimin’s.
The smile he gives Jimin erases any and all bitterness that’s built throughout the day.
Jungkook entertains everyone’s fussing for a few minutes more, then sets the box aside, sheds his outermost layer, kicks off his boots, and pushes through the crowd. Jimin doesn’t realize he had risen to his feet until Jungkook closes the distance between them in a few strides, coming face-to-face. His cheeks and nose are cherry red from the cold, his hair windswept and tangled, and all Jimin wants to do is kiss him despite the flock of eyes on them.
Jungkook must have the same idea.
“Hey hyung,” he says, a little breathless. Somehow, he still smells like him, like soap and skin with just a hint of snow. “Sorry I took so long.”
He gently grabs Jimin’s face between his hands, looks at him in what Jimin can only call reverence. His fingers are like ice, but they quickly melt against the flushed heat of Jimin’s skin. Then Jungkook tilts Jimin’s head so that he can plant a firm kiss to Jimin’s forehead and pulls him in for a hug that makes Jimin melt, too.
“Missed you,” Jungkook murmurs.
“Missed you too,” Jimin sighs and fuck does he mean it, doesn’t even care about the whispers he can hear at Jungkook’s back.
They don’t stop until someone clears their throat.
“Dinner is ready, everyone,” halmeoni says, and Jimin doesn’t even have to see her face to know she’s smiling her signature, secret smile.
“Wait! Before everyone sits down.” Jungkook returns to the gigantic box he lugged in, reaching in and pulling out a slightly smaller box. “Halmeoni, I got this for you. Thank you for everything, and Merry Christmas.”
Jungkook presents the box to halmeoni, who looks surprised—an emotion Jimin isn’t used to seeing on her beautiful, worn face. When she opens it, she’s presented with a lovely arrangement of fruit. Fuji apples, Korean pears, and Hallabong oranges, all in pristine condition. Jimin wonders where the hell Jungkook found these on this isolated island, in this season.
“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t have to,” halmeoni says, but she reaches out to pick up a pear by the plasticky wrapping around its middle, turning it this way and that, revealing not one bruise or flaw. “Thank you.”
She grabs Jungkook’s face and pulls him down to kiss his cheek, and Jungkook beams.
After Jungkook sets the box on display in the common area, everyone gathers in the dining room and sits for their feast. Enough food to feed an army is spread out, and everyone fills their plates with marinated meat and pan-fried dumplings, slurping up glass noodles and soaking up sauce with the fluffiest rice Jimin’s ever seen.
While they eat, they talk. Everyone asks for Jungkook’s side of his and Jimin’s escape and rescue on the mountain, and Jimin blushes when most of it is Jungkook praising Jimin’s endurance, his expertise, his guidance. He says he wouldn’t have been able to do it without Jimin, and though he’s already flushed from the indulgent food, Jimin’s cheeks get warm.
Somehow, they clear every single dish. All the guys shoo the women out of the kitchen so that they can clean up. Jimin and Jungkook volunteer for dish duty, hips bumping as they wash and dry side by side.
By the time they finally finish, it’s getting late. Halmeoni serves everyone sujeonggwa and soju, the cinnamon punch and liquor burning their throats, warming them from the inside out, and they all crowd into the common area. There isn’t enough room on the couches and chairs, so a few of them sit on the ground, including Jimin and Jungkook, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Jungkook leans against the wall and pulls Jimin down to sit between his legs, offering his chest as a backrest. The Ondol flooring keeps their tushes warm, and Jimin thinks this might be the most comfortable he’s ever been in his life.
Conversation still flows freely, so Jimin and Jungkook sit quietly, taking it all in. Taehyung starts singing ‘White Christmas’ in true Taehyung fashion, while Namjoon and Seokjin fall into a very serious debate over whether Bing Crosby or Mariah Carey wears the true Christmas crown.
Jimin can’t help but notice Hoseok and Yoongi sitting together in a corner. They’re side by side, but Jimin can still see the way they hide their interlaced fingers between their laps. Jimin nudges Jungkook and directs his attention with a nod of his head, and Jungkook just laughs under his breath, discreetly planting a kiss on Jimin’s shoulder before resting his chin there.
Before long, voices dwindle, eyelids droop, and Halmeoni gets up to stand at the front of the room, giving one last announcement to her guests.
“Before I bid you all goodnight, I want to express my gratitude to you all for being such patient, understanding guests,” she says, and for some reason, a lump forms in Jimin’s throat. “Every year we open our doors to visitors, but our time with you will not be forgotten.”
There’s a sprinkling of thank yous and wistful sentiments that scatters through the room, which halmeoni accepts with smiling eyes.
“As I’m sure you all know, now that everyone has returned, we will need to have some volunteers share their sleeping quarters again.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Seokjin says, turning to send Hoseok and Yoongi a teasing grin. “At Nari Village, we had plenty of space to have our own rooms, but Hoseok and Yoongi were so generous and shared their room every night anyway.”
Hoseok’s eyes blow wide, and Yoongi leans across him to shoot Seokjin a narrowed look.
“Ah, well, that simplifies things, doesn’t it?” halmeoni says. She looks over at Jimin and Jungkook, then. Jimin’s palms start to sweat. “Will you two be okay sharing a room tonight?”
The entire room shifts and stares.
Jimin blanches, frozen on the spot, but Jungkook only wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and pulls him closer to his chest, speaking over Jimin’s shoulder like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“We don’t mind, halmeoni,” Jungkook says. His mouth is close enough to Jimin’s ear that he can feel his breath fanning down the back of his neck. “We’re just happy to have one more night together.” He pauses, and Jimin grabs his wrist that’s draped on his waist, digging his nails in. Jungkook gives a short, impish laugh. “With everyone.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” halmeoni says, winking at Jimin and Jungkook. Jimin considers the logistics of burrowing into the earth. “I’m happy, too.”
At that, everyone breaks off from the group just like they did that very first night. First their parents wish their sons goodnight and disappear down the hallway. Then the rest of the guys go one at a time, until it’s Hoseok and Yoongi, Jungkook and Jimin.
“It was really cool getting to know you guys, even if it wasn’t for very long,” Hoseok says, giving Jimin and Jungkook a bright, genuine smile.
“We’ll have to hang out sometime, all seven of us,” Jungkook says. “Maybe Jimin can take us on another hike. Hopefully one without an incident.”
Jimin punches Jungkook’s thigh.
Jungkook chuckles, nuzzling Jimin’s cheek.
“That would be great,” Yoongi says, giving them a small smile. “Have a good night, yeah? Safe travels tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Jimin says. “You, too.”
With that, Hoseok and Yoongi get up from the floor and shuffle down the hall, never once letting go of the other’s hand.
“And then there were two,” Jungkook murmurs, lips now brushing Jimin’s ear. Jimin doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he’s nervous. Jungkook taking the shell of his ear into his mouth and lightly sucking does not help. Hoards of butterflies wreak havoc in his gut. Jimin grips Jungkook’s wrist again, this time without intent. He just needs something to hold onto. “You ready for bed, hyung?”
“Um…” Jimin gulps. “S-sure.”
“Mm,” Jungkook hums, kissing Jimin’s temple before hoisting them up off the floor. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you in the room in a bit, okay?”
Jimin turns in Jungkook’s arms, as he still has them snug around his waist.
“Why?” Jimin asks, slowly raising his arms up to rest them on Jungkook’s shoulders, hands finding their home on his nape, in his hair. “Where you going?”
In lieu of answering, Jungkook kisses Jimin hard, catching him off guard. His tongue runs hot along Jimin’s lower lip, but when Jimin opens for him, Jungkook pulls away.
“Go,” Jungkook says, smiling at Jimin’s pathetic whine, resting his forehead against Jimin’s. “I’ll be right there.”
“Are you gonna take as long as you did today?”
“Hyung, I’ll be right there.”
He kisses Jimin again, and Jimin knows it’s a distraction tactic, but he doesn’t care. Jimin leans into it and follows Jungkook’s lips when again, he pulls away.
“Go.”
Jungkook says it soft and final, so Jimin sticks out his bottom lip, gives Jungkook his brattiest glare, and marches away.
Though he already took one in the morning, Jimin takes another shower to clear his mind, to be thorough. When he’s done, he steps into the room in Jungkook’s t-shirt and a pair of boxers, only to find Jungkook already waiting for him. He sits on the edge of the bed, a fresh fire crackling in the fireplace.
“Oh! You were so fast!”
But before Jimin can hop into his lap, Jungkook grabs him by the waist and holds him at arm’s length.
Jimin considers throwing a fit, but the way Jungkook looks up at him has Jimin’s insides turning to goop.
“Hi,” Jungkook murmurs.
“Hi.”
Jimin stands between his legs, brushing a few strands of hair out of Jungkook’s face, breath coming out funny when Jungkook leans into his touch.
“I have something for you,” Jungkook says.
“Oh?”
“Close your eyes.”
Jimin does without question, giddiness rising up his throat in the form of a giggle.
He hears Jungkook shift his weight, then the soft scrape of something being picked up from the floor. Jimin can’t help it, cracking one eye open to see Jungkook rummaging underneath the bed.
“What are you doing?” Jimin asks.
“Keep them closed!” Jungkook exclaims.
“Sorry, sorry.” Jimin can’t help but smile.
He listens hard and thinks Jungkook sits back up. Jimin is good and keeps his eyes closed, but he uses touch to feel around for Jungkook’s chin, griping it between his fingers and bending low for a kiss.
“Hy’ng,” Jungkook says against Jimin’s lips. They both laugh, bumping noses, teeth on teeth. “M’kay, you can open.”
Curiosity wins, so Jimin releases his hold on Jungkook and opens his eyes. Jungkook still sits in front of him, and he’s holding his hands behind his back. When Jimin sees the look on his face, his nerves slam back, full force.
“What is it?”
Jungkook chews his lips, looking uncertain.
“It isn’t much,” he says, looking down at their bare feet, then back up at Jimin. “But I still wanted to get you something for Christmas.”
“Kook-ah…”
Before Jimin can say he didn’t have to, it doesn’t matter, Jimin has all that he needs right here, Jungkook removes his arms from behind his back and reveals something small and flat.
It isn’t wrapped, and Jungkook is holding it right side up, so Jimin sees what it is right away.
A picture frame, with a picture of them in it.
The picture of them, the one from yesterday that halmeoni took for them. The frame is white ceramic. Its edges aren’t perfect, and Jimin wonders if it’s homemade. The design is simple, like little snowflake crystals lined along the edges, perfectly blending into the winter landscape the photo captures. In the picture, Jimin is looking at the camera, eyes disappearing behind his cheeks, and Jungkook is looking at Jimin.
The tiny display screen on Jungkook’s camera didn’t do it justice. The print is small, too, no bigger than Jimin’s hand, but the details stand out better, the truth of it louder. Jimin doesn’t remember the last time he’s taken a photo with a smile this big, and he can feel his happiness screaming past the paper.
And then there’s Jungkook.
Jimin knew he hadn’t been looking at the camera for the photo, but Jimin thought it had been because the timing wasn’t right, because Jungkook got distracted or because halmeoni pressed the button too late. Now Jimin sees that in the photo, Jungkook’s entire attention is on Jimin. His smile is soft, and his eyes shine with something that quickens Jimin’s heartbeat, something that fills his chest with emotion and has a name Jimin’s been too scared to claim.
“Kook-ah,” Jimin says again, this time quieter.
“I know it’s nothing special,” Jungkook rambles, fingers toying with the drawstrings on his pants. “Honestly it was kind of a fiasco getting it sorted. I had to hitch a ride to the next town over to print the photo because the printing box here was broken, and then we got stuck, and…yeah.” Jimin just stares up at him, tongue-tied, so Jungkook keeps going. “I wish I had brought my other camera, I’m sorry hyung. Then I could have filmed a vlog or something. I’ve been working on video editing and how to say things with movement instead of words, then I could have gotten my message across, and—”
“Your message? What message?”
Jungkook swallows hard. He looks at Jimin with so much sincerity in his eyes that Jimin couldn’t look away, even if he tried.
“Hyung, I know it’s been a long time, and I know we only just found each other again, but I know this now just as much as I knew it then.” Jungkook says each word with intensity and intention. Jimin’s heart pounds in his throat. “I’ve been in love with you since I was old enough to know what love means. I am who I am because of you. I think we were always meant to find each other again, and this was the perfect moment to do so. I needed to capture it, that way we can keep it close. So now we have this picture, and we can take many, many more.”
“Jungkook,” Jimin chokes. Then, because he’s overwhelmed and his brain can only concentrate on that one four letter word, he says, “I-I didn’t get you anything.”
“What? Shut up,” Jungkook laughs. “I don’t care. There’s only one thing I want, anyway.”
Jimin thinks he knows the answer, but he still asks, “What do you want?”
Jungkook smiles, whole and warm.
“You, silly.”
Jungkook pulls Jimin closer by his waist just to reach up, pull him down by his nape, and kiss him hard. Jimin doesn’t mean to be careless, but he tosses the photo frame somewhere behind Jungkook on the bed and out of the way so he can steady himself on Jungkook’s shoulders, climbing into his lap and deepening the kiss.
He pours as much of what he’s feeling into the kiss, whimpering when Jungkook moves his grip from his waist to his thighs, hoisting Jimin fully onto the bed so he can drape himself across Jimin’s body. All the pent-up energy from this morning quickly boils over. Jimin spreads his legs so Jungkook can slot between them, tangles his hands in Jungkook’s hair to pull him close and kiss him deeper.
They both moan when Jungkook rolls his hips, giving them both the friction they need. Jimin wraps his legs around Jungkook’s hips and rocks with him. He whines into his mouth, sucks on his tongue, bites his lip, gets lost in him every way he knows how.
But then something makes him pause.
Jimin breaks the kiss, turns his face to the side. This doesn’t deter Jungkook. He just changes direction, kissing down Jimin’s jaw, running his tongue over his pulse point and nipping at it at the same time he drives forward, presses Jimin into the mattress.
And there it is again.
“Wait, Kook-ah, stop.”
Jungkook just whines, pointedly rolls his hips.
The bed fucking screams.
Jimin throws his head back and laughs.
“Baby, stop.”
Finally, Jungkook halts his movements, which halts the rhythmic creaking of the bedframe beneath them. He pulls back and looks down at Jimin with a pout on his lips and a notch in his brow.
“I’m not baby,” he says, and when Jimin only smiles wide, his pout deepens. “You’re baby.”
“You’re my baby,” Jimin coos. Jungkook gives Jimin a look that he thinks is supposed to be stern, but all it does is egg Jimin on. “We can both be baby, can’t we?”
Jungkook mulls it over.
He must not come to a decision, because when Jimin licks his swollen lips, Jungkook’s eyes catch on them.
In less than a second, they’re back to making out.
Jimin loses the plot for a while, running his hands down Jungkook’s back, letting his nails drag just a bit, just enough to paint faint, pink lines in their wake. It makes Jungkook moan into his mouth, so he does it again. In answer, Jungkook aligns their hips and grinds down, makes sure Jimin feels his arousal alongside his own.
But then—
“This isn’t going to work,” Jimin sighs.
Jungkook collapses on top of him, making the bed screech yet again, and they both laugh, all breathless. Not only is the bed being rude, but Jimin is 99% sure the picture frame is digging into his ribs.
“I knew this bed would be a problem,” Jungkook grumbles. As a last-ditch effort, he gives the tiniest press of his hips, only for the bed to voice its protest. “Hyung, if I can’t fuck you tonight, I’m gonna die.”
Jimin snorts. “And I thought I was the dramatic one.”
Jungkook has a point, though. Jimin ignores the pang in his chest when he tells himself this might be the last time they have together for a while. If Jimin doesn’t get what he’s been craving since day one, he’s going to carry this cursed bed to a cliff and toss it into the sea.
They lie there as still as they can for a few breaths. Jungkook still mouths at Jimin’s neck, and Jimin still gently scratches up and down Jungkook’s back. He sends up perhaps the most desperate prayer to the universe yet, pleading for some type of miracle to drop from the heavens. Perhaps some WD-40, or even a soundproof bubble.
But then, like divine intervention—
“Oh my god, we’re idiots,” Jimin groans, trying to shove Jungkook off. When Jungkook doesn’t budge, Jimin reaches down and smacks an asscheek. “Get up, baby, I have an idea.”
Jungkook crawls off, but not without protest. Jimin ignores him, urging Jungkook to get completely off the bed. After setting the photo frame safely on a nightstand, Jimin yanks all the blankets off the bed and tosses them onto the floor close enough to the fireplace without it being hazardous, spreading them out until there’s just enough space for two.
“Ta-da!” Jimin gestures, grandiose.
Jungkook hardly acknowledges Jimin’s efforts, just looks at Jimin with hearts in his eyes. Jimin’s about to scold some praise out of him, but before he does, Jungkook grabs his hand, pulls him close. He grips the hem of Jimin’s t-shirt, pulling it over his head, then plants a soft kiss on Jimin’s lips before removing his own, too.
He shivers, goosebumps flooding his skin as he watches Jungkook step out of his sweatpants. Once they’re both in nothing but their boxers, Jimin lowers onto the blankets on the floor. He turns around to ask Jungkook to join him, but Jungkook’s already there, crawling close, crowding in, forcing Jimin onto his back.
Jimin shuts right up.
Here, Jungkook can grind into Jimin as hard as he wants, and Jimin quickly realizes only noises they need to worry about now are their own.
Though they muffle their moans into each other’s mouths, it’s still too much, Jimin knows. But when Jungkook pulls away to rummage around in his toiletry bag, grabbing everything they need, Jungkook doesn’t even have to touch Jimin to get him whining.
Jungkook doesn’t rush, but he doesn’t wait.
Jimin watches him kiss down Jimin’s throat, over his chest, past his belly button and along his inner thighs. He sucks the flesh into his mouth, leaving love bites there to match the one Jimin left on his neck. Jimin bites his lip when Jungkook runs his fingertips along the waistband of Jimin’s boxers, lifting his hips to help slide them off.
Lying there, slack-jawed and exposed, Jimin watches as Jungkook strips down, too.
He can hardly see past the stars in his eyes as Jungkook opens him up on his fingers. Jimin throws an arm across his face and grips the blanket with the other. By the time Jungkook’s worked three fingers inside, Jimin has to bite down on his arm to swallow his cries.
The whole time, Jungkook whispers praises into Jimin’s skin, leaving more marks, groaning at how tight and hot and wet Jimin is around him. He only stops the moment that Jimin feels him line up, blunt pressure stealing Jimin’s breath until he’s finally pressing in.
Jimin has to force his eyes open.
He wants to see Jungkook’s face as he’s swallowed in heat, wants to watch him come undone. Once Jungkook’s hips meet Jimin’s thighs, he drops down, elbows on either side of Jimin’s head.
“Jimin…fuck,” Jungkook breathes.
He tucks his face into Jimin’s neck. Jimin wraps around him in every way that he can, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders. He encourages him to move, not caring that he hasn’t fully adjusted, basking in the burn.
And god, does he burn.
Everything’s warm—Jungkook on top of him, the blankets around him, the fire beside them. Sweat beads beneath Jimin’s touch along the curve of Jungkook’s back, Jimin’s hair sticks to his temples.
“Move, baby,” Jimin murmurs, gripping Jungkook’s hair, gently pulling him back to meet his eyes. “Let me feel you.”
At first, he goes slow, watching for any changes in Jimin’s expression, any discomfort, any pain. He reaches back to grab Jimin’s knee, adjusting its angle around his waist until he sinks deeper. They both moan, desire echoing off the walls. Then they both giggle, foreheads pressed together.
“Shh,” Jungkook hushes, still laughing, and Jimin isn’t sure if he’s talking to Jimin or himself.
As soon as Jungkook sets a rhythm, he kisses Jimin, lets their bodies take over. Heat flows through Jimin’s veins, coils tight in his gut. They move as one, matching each and every push and pull. They slowly build together, until together, they fall apart.
“Baby,” Jungkook whimpers. “I’m gonna…”
When Jungkook wraps a sure hand around Jimin, everything spills over. On his stomach and his chest, in his core, deep inside.
It takes a while for the concept of language to fully return. When it does, Jimin gasps a laugh that comes out as a wheeze. Jungkook’s everything has collapsed, crushing Jimin in the very best way. Jimin combs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, damp and matted.
“Kook-ah,” he whispers.
“Hm?”
“Why the hell haven’t we done this sooner?”
“What, fuck?” Jungkook asks, voice rough.
“Well, yes.” Jimin laughs. “But I was talking about sleeping on the floor. This is so much better.”
Jungkook laughs, too, and Jimin coaxes Jungkook’s head out of the dip of his shoulder. He goes to kiss Jungkook, but Jungkook resists.
“Jimin, I need to tell you something,” he says, eyes so serious that it makes Jimin smile. Jungkook frowns. “This is serious.”
“What, baby?” Jimin teases.
Before he answers, Jungkook carefully turns them onto their sides so they’re facing each other. They’re still connected, Jungkook having yet to slip away. The movement makes Jimin’s eyes flutter, and Jungkook pulls him close until their noses touch.
“Tomorrow, when the ferry docks,” Jungkook says, grabbing Jimin’s hand, bringing his fingers up to kiss, one at a time. “I’m getting off with you.”
Jimin’s heart melts, until he realizes.
“Wait. Did you just…quote Titanic at me?”
Jungkook scrunches his nose and bites the tip of Jimin’s pinky.
“I’ll never let go.”
Jimin laughs, but it’s shaky because Jungkook has put Jimin’s ring and middle fingers into his mouth, tongue pressed against them as he sucks.
“Y-you’re—ah—such…a dork.” Jungkook releases his fingers with a pop, and Jimin can’t explain why the sight of them sheened with his spit makes him flush head to toe. “Haven’t changed at all, have you?”
“If you’re saying I’m still immature, I would have to agree.” Jimin giggles, and Jungkook gives Jimin’s fingertips one last kiss. “Although, I think teen me would be losing his mind if he knew in ten years, all his horniest dreams would come true.”
“Your dreams?” Jimin drawls, smile so big that it hurts. “You had dreams about me, hm?” Jungkook’s smile is smaller when he nods, but it still makes Jimin’s heart flip in his chest. “So was that everything teen Kookie ever dreamed of?”
Jungkook hesitates. “Well…”
Jimin waits for Jungkook to answer. When he doesn’t, Jimin studies his face. He’d be more concerned, but he’s pretty sure he just felt Jungkook twitch deep inside him.
“Well, what?”
“Nothing, I just, ah.” Jungkook chews his lip, and Jimin can’t tell if he’s nervous, or if he’s being coy. “Back then, I always imagined it the other way around.”
“The other way…? Oh. Oh.”
Another nose scrunch. “Yeah. Oh.”
Warmth stirs low. Jimin bites his lip.
“Would you still be interested, by chance?”
In answer, Jungkook grabs Jimin’s wrist, fingertips still spit-slick, and guides it down Jungkook’s chest, down between his legs, down.
And once again, words leave them.
Jimin finds that it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to say anything to show Jungkook just how deep his love runs—not tonight. Tonight, they have each other and the world at their fingertips. Tonight, they don’t need words to express how they feel.
Words can come later.
They have a lifetime for that.
❅
one year later
❅
Jiyeon isn’t sure how to feel about this trip.
It isn’t necessarily the drive. Busan to Seoul is no Sunday stroll, but Minseok is driving, so Jiyeon can’t really complain.
Plus, Jungmi sits in the backseat with Jiyeon, keeping her mind off things with idle gossip. Their husbands sit up front in companionable silence.
It’s familiar. It’s easy.
But for some reason, it feels bittersweet.
No, she shouldn’t say that.
She isn’t bitter, this is a treat. She gets to spend another Christmas with her Jiminie.
He’s even the one who invited her!
This will be a nice trip with the Jeons, finally visiting their boys in their new apartment, sharing a dinner Jiyeon doesn’t have to cook.
This will be a wonderful trip.
Still, it doesn’t fully hit her until she’s knocking on a door numbered 5813, triggering incessant barking from inside. The door swings wide open in just a few seconds, and there’s her handsome, eldest son smiling wide, squishing shut those pretty eyes that he got from his father.
Before he can say a word, Jiyeon’s tears flow.
“Eomma!” Jimin worries, pulling her inside.
She hears the Jeons walk past, greeting Jungkook and his dog. Jimin tugs her into a hug, one she never wants to end.
“What’s wrong?” Jimin murmurs.
“Nothing, I’m just…” Jiyeon sniffs, stepping out of Jimin’s embrace, as hard as it is. “I’m so happy to be here. I missed you, honey.”
Jimin smiles soft, like he knows.
“I missed you too.”
Jimin steps back into the kitchen to help Jungkook with dinner, but Jiyeon stays behind, tries to pull herself together. She truly is so happy, so proud of her son’s success. This year, he finally decided to stick around and settle down like she’s been begging him to for ages, but she would be blind to say she had anything to do with that.
A few months ago, Jimin secured his job with a company she can’t remember the name of, but it’s one that’s reputable and based in Korea. He still does what he loves, guiding hikes all over the country, and he still travels sometimes.
But now he has something to come back to.
Someone to come back to.
Jungmi was telling Jiyeon what Jungkook has been up to on the drive up, but admittedly, Jiyeon’s mind was elsewhere. He’s based in Seoul, too, something about building his portfolio and networking with film professionals.
Whatever it is must be fruitful, because now they have a modest home of their own and a dog that Jimin calls their furbaby, stepping into the stable, secure life Jiyeon always dreamed for him.
Her baby’s all grown up.
If she thinks too hard about it, she’ll tear up again, so she tries to distract herself by studying the photos they have hanging on every inch of the walls and covering every single surface.
This turns out to have the opposite effect as desired, because the first photo Jiyeon discovers is of Jimin and Jungkook as young children, holding hands and giving the camera toothy grins.
Jiyeon surrenders, pulling her handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing her misty eyes.
There are so many; they must have gotten them from Jungmi. She hasn’t seen them in years. Jimin and Jungkook at their first taekwondo tournament, Jungkook biting his gold, Jimin scowling at his silver. Jimin and Jungkook on Jimin’s eighteenth birthday, Jimin and Jungkook at Jungkook’s high school graduation.
She moves to the next shelf and finds pictures of the boys and their friends they met on their serendipitous trip to Ulleungdo last year. Jimin calls them Bangtan, though Jiyeon doesn’t wish to understand why they would need to be bulletproof. There’s one of them on an LA beach at sunset, another of them atop a glacier in New Zealand, knee-deep in snow.
There are many more, and in every one, they’re all smiling wide, standing close, looking like they’ve been friends for more than ten years, not just one.
When she reaches the end of the shelf, Jiyeon notices that there is only one picture perched on the mantle of their fireplace. The frame reflects the fire’s light, white ceramic that’s glazed with crystalline patterns.
The photo it displays is recent, of Jimin and Jungkook in winter clothes, the world around them icy and bright. Jimin beams at the camera, exuding a happiness Jiyeon’s only seen when he’s with one certain person, the one that looks at Jimin like he hung the moon and the stars.
“Aish!”
Jiyeon jumps nearly a foot in the air when Jimin shouts from the kitchen. She spins around and sees Jimin shaking his hand wildly in the air, sucking his finger like he burnt it.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, wide eyes dripping with concern. He grabs Jimin’s hand and turns it this way and that, then softly kisses the reddened skin. He also sneakily takes the spatula out of Jimin’s hands. Jiyeon smiles to herself. “I’ll take it from here, baby.”
The adults are sitting in the dining room—or, well, the parents, Jiyeon should say—but she hangs back, watches the way Jimin and Jungkook revolve around each other. After mixing something to the side per Jungkook’s instructions, Jimin sidles up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder.
“I love you,” she hears Jimin say.
“Love you too,” Jungkook murmurs back.
And suddenly, Jiyeon knows exactly how she feels about this trip. She doesn’t think they know she’s here watching, and she should probably feel snoopy, but all she feels is pride, nostalgia, relief.
Looking back at the photo on the mantle, she smiles to herself. If Jimin has someone who will look at him like that, someone who will love him like that, she can rest easy.
He seems happy. They both do.
To Jiyeon, that’s all that matters.