Chapter Text
The next morning, Jeongguk removes the mold from the ceiling of his living room.
He doesn’t do it because Taehyung asked him to, but completely out of his own volition. Climbs on top of the couch carefully, scrapes away flakes of wallpaper, and puts some product he’s borrowed from Seokjin on top of the suspiciously black spots. They’ve grown quite big, he notices in disgust as he tries not to breathe in any dust that crumbles from the ceiling. The damage has probably already been done, but Jeongguk still feels relatively healthy and doesn’t feel like risking that changing.
It takes him almost an hour and a disturbing amount of mold remover, but in the end, the spots are scraped away and covered up to an extent he deems sufficient. The product will take a while to work its magic, but in a few days, their dorm should finally be completely mold-free.
Jeongguk feels a wave of relief wash over him when he jumps from the couch and discards his dirty gloves along with his shirt. It’s an old one, a shirt he put on because he knew he’d probably never wear it again. His steps are light and bouncy when he makes his way over to the bathroom, because being proud of having done something productive, he can ignore Taehyung not being there with him, can ignore what happened after Jimin left the night before.
The relieved joy lasts for approximately ten minutes, then, Jeongguk is standing in the shower, facing the wall, his head aching as he tries to stop fresh tears from welling up in his eyes. He just stares at the water falling, at his hands, at the floor. Suddenly, there’s so much bothering him that he doesn’t know where he should begin, and the shower famously is one of the worst places to start thinking about your regrets.
Jeongguk goes to wash his body, shaky hands working on autopilot as his eyes don’t want to focus, as he’s hyperaware of the silence of the apartment around him. His heartbeat is so loud in his own ears he just wishes for it to shut up, wants the silence to engulf him completely and not let him go, not allow him to think about all he’s fucked up these past days.
You’re not gonna develop feelings because he made you promise not to? Because it’s just unrealistic?
Taehyung’s words keep echoing in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his brain and getting louder and louder with each repetition, dread filling Jeongguk’s body so fast he doesn’t have the energy to fight it. He just stands there, water hitting his shoulders as he hangs his head and takes a shuddering breath in.
What hurts most is probably that Taehyung was right, to a certain degree. He said a lot of shit about him and Jimin that was just uncalled for and plain rude, but he also had a point. Knew what he was talking about when he implied Jeongguk was going to develop feelings. Because of fucking course he would.
Distantly, Jeongguk has known the entire time. From the moment he realized he wasn’t straight he’s looked at Jimin differently, has begun to appreciate his personality and body in a way that exceeded platonic territory, but how couldn’t he?
Jimin is the most perfect person he’s ever met, and fuck, maybe he’s putting him on a pedestal, but is that so bad when he’s so pretty sitting up there, smiling down at Jeongguk?! Is it a problem that Jeongguk wants to do whatever he can to please him, make him happy, be it sexual or not?! He burns with the need to give Jimin everything he has, his limbs trembling as he fights to stay upright. Jeongguk is not going to sit down in the shower, that would make it a shower breakdown, and he’s not having a breakdown, he’s just thinking about some stuff and–
Jeongguk’s position doesn’t matter, since now, tears are spilling, and even though they’re mixing with the water of the shower rather well, they make his situation a breakdown.
Taehyung said Jeongguk looked at Jimin as if he’d hung the moon and stars and through increasingly panicked breaths, Jeongguk realizes just how true that is. He basically stares at his best friend every chance he gets, even pauses during sex just to put his eyes on him, big and probably sparkling, the way Jeongguk has only seen himself smile in pictures his family has taken in the most beautiful moments of his childhood.
So yes, he is in love with Jimin. Or something. He doesn’t want to think like that, doesn’t want it to become a reality by putting that name on it– but it is the truth, and naked in the shower, there’s nowhere to run from it.
Fuck, he has feelings for Jimin.
Defeated, he slides down the wet wall of the shower until his body hits the floor. Great, sitting in the shower. Jeongguk allows himself to start sobbing, hoping it’ll help loosen the knot tightening in his chest. He already cried the night before, worried about being not enough and being too much for Jimin, not being able to satisfy him, but this is arguably worse.
A less than ideal sexual situation, he could deal with. Jeongguk could run to Hoseok, or maybe even Yoongi, get some advice, confront Jimin, they could talk about it, boom, everything’s alright again.
But this? He’s in love with Jimin, his best friend, his friend with benefits and it’s so embarrassing because it was foreseeable, proves fucking Taehyung right, and betrays Jimin. Even though Jimin always makes him feel safe, there’s some stuff Jeongguk doesn’t want to load on him. He’s seen how much Jimin’s mood has improved, how he’s happier and more focused on school, how he’s relaxed and allows himself to enjoy their sex.
Jeongguk would be taking this from him, cruelly and selfishly, all because he couldn’t follow the one singular rule of friends with benefits. Don’t catch feelings. Yeah right, maybe that would’ve worked if his fuckbuddy would’ve been anyone but the Park Jimin.
Even as Jeongguk is sitting on the floor in his shower, knees pulled up to his chin, increasingly cold water mercilessly pouring down on him, thinking of Jimin has something warm flicker up inside of his stomach. He thinks of soft blond hair, kind brown eyes, strong but gentle hands, and he huffs out an almost offended laugh at the electrifying feeling the mental image of Jimin shoots through his body. He’s beautiful and he’s attentive, has always comforted Jeongguk, has cared for him in more and more intimate ways, and Jeongguk knows one thing for certain:
He will not tell Jimin about his feelings. He simply can’t. Even if it wouldn’t ruin their friendship, it would ruin their sexual relationship, would make Jimin feel uneasy about being around him– it would change things, and Jeongguk wants nothing more than desperately cling onto the way things are right now. It’s fine, he will be fine, can get over himself, can continue to give Jimin what he needs. He has to.
Somehow, Jeongguk deals with everything well enough that he can actually face Jimin the next day. Making up an excuse not to see him would’ve been suspicious after how Jeongguk acted when they last had sex– if Jimin had even noticed. Usually, he’s so attentive he knows what Jeongguk needs before he himself does, but he left in such a hurry. Jeongguk has replayed the situation a billion times, in the shower, while eating, while playing video games, while waiting for the sound of Jimin entering his apartment.
Half an hour later than Jimin had said he was going to come over, the door bell rings.
Jeongguk tries to ignore the way his heart sinks at the sound, at the realization Jimin is not typing in the code himself despite knowing it, putting distance between them that Jeongguk desperately wants gone. He just wants things to be normal, there’s no reason for them to be anything but, the smile overtaking his face when he goes to get the door is genuine, after all. Despite panicking over his feelings, Jeongguk likes being around Jimin, wants him to still like being around him as well, and he’s sure he can get over his crush.
(The feeling that has been quietly festering inside of Jeongguk’s very core for months is completely incomparable to a crush, comes with the bone deep nausea only a certain four-letter word can cause.)
“Hi, hyung,” he greets, his voice way steadier than he expects it to be, “I like your sweater.”
Jimin smiles at the compliment and returns the greeting like normal, nothing but the fact that he rang the doorbell indicating any kind of change between them. He takes off his shoes and begins to tell Jeongguk about the thrift store where he’d found the sweater he’s wearing– forest green and off-shoulder, cozy and elegant, reflecting everything Jimin is. Even his nails are green today, dark against his blond hair when he brushes a few strands out of his face. Captivating.
“How are things with your essay?” Jeongguk asks as he follows Jimin to the kitchen, watches him put water on to boil like he’s done countless times before.
“Finished it just before coming over,” Jimin explains, rummaging through the cabinet for his favourite mug. Jeongguk watches him mindlessly for a moment, notices how even this simple action has his heart beat faster, until he remembers he has been drinking from Jimin’s mug and it’s still in his bedroom. Now that he’s thinking about it, there’s probably some forgotten tea in it as well, gone cold after Jeongguk abandoned it.
“That’s good,” Jeongguk nods, and not wanting Jimin to search himself stupid, he adds, “The Moomin mug is in my bedroom, hyung.”
“Jeongguk-ah!” Jimin groans, slamming the doors of the kitchen cabinet shut, “You could’ve just told me… Whatever am I supposed to do now?!”
He sighs exaggeratedly, putting his hand to his forehead as if he’s going to faint and lets himself fall back against Jeongguk, sure he’s going to catch him. Jeongguk does, of course, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s middle and chuckling as if he doesn’t feel like he’s dying inside. This is normal for them, he can act normal.
“Sorry, hyung,” he shrugs, gently nudging Jimin to stand on his own again, “You can just pick another one, we have a bunch. Someone keeps gifting them for every occasion.”
“You know I only give them to Taehyung and you always get a more personal gift as well,” Jimin defends himself, halfheartedly grabbing some other mug (with the very inspiring words “fuck me like the goverment” on it) before he starts digging through their selection of tea.
Jeongguk doesn’t retort anything, just nods as he watches Jimin, knowing he’ll pick apple cinnamon just like every time. He keeps it stocked for that very reason, after all. His lips curl in a small smile when Jimin does exactly as he expects, puts the tea bag in his mug and pours the now boiling water over it.
“Sorry for leaving in a hurry last time,” Jimin apologizes quietly as he aimlessly stirs the water with the tea bag, “I totally forgot about the essay, and my professor already threatened to fail me before that.”
“It’s alright, hyung, I understand,” Jeongguk hears himself say, once again letting Jimin get away with another apology instead of sharing how the situation felt for him. He knows he shouldn’t keep doing it, but Jimin’s eyes are full of guilt, and Jeongguk just wants to see them shine carelessly. No amount of him accepting Jimin’s apologies will do that, but he can pretend. At least for now.
It’s quiet then, because no matter how hard Jeongguk tries to convince himself he can be normal, there’s something hanging in the air between them. Jimin has always been able to read him like a book, knows Jeongguk better than anyone else, can probably sense the change in his heart rate or something. His expression shifts to something dangerously close to pity, and Jeongguk tenses up, still scarred from the demeaning pity he got from Taehyung, still convinced keeping his feelings from Jimin will prevent him from getting upset.
“Have you spoken to Tae?”
“Let’s not, hyung.”
“Okay.”
The silence stretches, further and further, and with every second, Jeongguk feels like there’s a chasm between him and Jimin, growing with the silence and pushing them away from each other as they do nothing but watch. Jimin’s tea should be ready now, but he doesn’t move. He just stares at Jeongguk’s face, emotions unreadable, as he silently takes in every word Jeongguk doesn’t want to say.
“Let’s go to my room.” Jeongguk panics. Jimin sees it. Jimin doesn’t open his mouth, just nods.
Jeongguk doesn’t want this to be awkward, wants them to be normal, wants himself to feel like always and wants Jimin to behave like always, but neither of them are acting normal, it’s simply impossible. Jeongguk wants to win back control over the situation so badly or just give it up to Jimin entirely, but he really doesn’t want this– sitting down on his bed awkwardly as Jimin places himself at the other end of the mattress, putting more distance. They don’t need distance, Jimin doesn’t need to put a wall between him, he’s still Jeongguk, they're still best friends, even though they’re really not and everything just sucks.
Even from this icy distance, Jimin still offers a warmth Jeongguk simply wants to bathe in. His small hands are both wrapped around the mug of hot tea, green nails tapping the ceramic absentmindedly as the comforting smell of apples and cinnamon fills the air. There’s some steam dancing through the air, dissipating the moment it reaches Jimin’s soft blond hair and Jeongguk aches to reach out to him. The space between them is so strange, so wrong, and logically, Jeongguk knows that only words can close the gap. In reality, he’s a fool, though.
“Since when do you drink tea?” Jimin wonders, eyes glued to the half-empty Moomin mug sitting on Jeongguk’s nightstand.
“I don’t,” Jeongguk says quietly, his glance following Jimin’s. It’s true, he doesn’t drink tea, prefers coffee or energy drinks, something that gives him a better feeling, not just a faint taste. He doesn’t know why he even made himself tea, except he does.
Jimin’s favourite mug is green, like his sweater, like his nails, like the bruises on his neck.
It shows a familiar scene from the Moomins, with Moomintroll and his dearest friend Snufkin walking through nature, countless plants and small creatures scattered around them. Jimin likes it because it’s cute, because the colours are cheerful, because Moomintroll smiles so brightly whenever spring arrives and Snufkin returns from his travels.
“It’s getting colder lately, and I needed something warm,” Jeongguk adds after a few beats too many, shrugging. It’s the truth but also not, and he just wants Jimin to understand, without words, because they’ve never really needed them, have always known what the other is thinking and feeling without having to talk about it. After all they’ve done together, this is completely uncharted territory, and the silence, heavy as it may be, is so much safer than venturing in the unknown.
“Yeah, it’s autumn now,” Jimin confirms, and Jeongguk feels like he’s about to cry. They’re talking about the weather. Also, they’re talking about something very different, but maybe Jeongguk is just imagining that.
As if he doesn’t know what else to do, Jimin lifts the mug to his lips and drinks carefully, even though Jeongguk is almost certain the liquid is still too hot for it to be comfortable. He briefly imagines what the tea tastes like, having forgotten how it felt to drink it even though he himself had a cup just the day before. Jeongguk imagines it tastes different on Jimin’s lips anyways, because everything does, drinks and food and lip gloss and words, everything is so very sweet coming from the warmth of his mouth. Jeongguk craves him in a way that overwhelms him, has him take a shaky breath in as he averts his eyes.
He’s incapable of staying normal, of acting like nothing happened, acting like he doesn’t want Jimin in every way you can want a person, warm, hot, selfishly. Jeongguk wants to stroke his hair, brush his fingers through it until it’s free of knots, wants to hear Jimin sigh happily, to call him names both bitter and sweet, wants Jimin to kiss him, to bite him, to tell him everything will be alright. With accelerating heart rate he realizes he’s the most stupid person on the planet for thinking anything could stay the same as before now that he’s aware of this desire, this ache spreading through his body even when he’s not looking at Jimin, only listening to the sounds of his breath, the sound of him quietly sipping his tea.
“Kook-ah,” Jimin starts, getting up briefly so he can place his mug next to the abandoned Moomin one. He considers sitting back down, but decides to stay standing, right in front of Jeongguk, their legs almost touching as Jimin looks down on him with an expression that combines sadness, guilt, and worry.
“Please tell me what’s wrong, I want to help you,” he sighs out, sounding small, like he doesn’t know if pushing Jeongguk will only make it worse or not. His eyes are big and a bit glassy, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest as if it would hide the fact that his hands are trembling. Jeongguk sees it anyway.
“Nothing is wrong,” Jeongguk assures, even though he feels like quite literally everything is wrong. The pounding of his heart at the proximity feels true, the desire to crane his neck up and meet Jimin’s eye feels good, but none of this is right. It can’t be.
“Why can’t you tell me?” Jimin asks, voice breaking slightly. He sounds a little hoarse, like he’s about to cry, and it only serves to make Jeongguk feel like more of an asshole. He should deal with these feelings on his own, figure everything out before burdening Jimin with it, before accidentally throwing so much at him he’ll break, unable to hold up Jeongguk any longer. He’s been carrying Jeongguk for way too long already.
“Hyung,” Jeongguk calls out softly, surprised by how steady his voice still sounds, surprised by the determination that’s flooding him as he listens to Jimin’s breath getting irregular with the urge to cry. Jeongguk will fix it, he has to.
He looks up at Jimin, tries to be brave, to be strong, to be a good best friend and not a terrible one for once. Being below Jimin is always something that makes him feel a certain way, but he pushes it away quietly, has to focus, be present, as he faces Jimin.
Jimin seems more insecure than ever before, even though he’s standing while Jeongguk is sitting, even though his arms are crossed over his chest and his posture is perfect like always. He looks great in forest green, but there’s an emptiness in his eyes, a desperation nagging on him, Jeongguk notices. It’s similar to the way he gets during sex sometimes, when Jeongguk lets go, when he gets too much, and so Jeongguk figures he needs to be a little less, simpler.
Luckily, being lesser is something that comes to Jeongguk easily, especially like this, looking up at Jimin. His eyes widen on their own, mouth falling open slightly with a particularly deep breath out, and he focuses on Jimin’s face, the beauty he carries even now. Jeongguk wants Jimin to feel safe, offering him the role he likes to play, the one he blossoms in so easily.
Hesitantly, Jimin seems to take it, reaching out, placing a hand on Jeongguk’s cheek gently. Jeongguk’s eyes drift close immediately as he leans into the touch, humming quietly as if to say I’m good, hyung, we’re good, you make me feel good. Jimin’s thumb begins to brush over his skin carefully, slowly, as if Jeongguk is about to jump up and run away. Jeongguk almost frowns, because Jimin should know that he’s never going to do that, Jeongguk thinks he’s proven himself loyal often enough.
“Hyung,” he mumbles, dragging the word out deliberately, hoping Jimin can feel his adoration for him without Jeongguk having to voice it out loud, without Jeongguk having to make it a thing that destroys them.
“Baby,” Jimin answers, the action closer to the unintentional act of breathing than the intention Jimin usually puts behind the words he speaks. The sound of his voice is sweeter, steadier, and Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat at the prospect that this is working, that they’ll be fine like this, don’t need any complications, any talk.
Here, below Jimin, in the literal palm of his hand, Jeongguk is his baby. He’s allowed to be, to breathe without restraint, to open up and give himself over. And Jimin gets to be the one to hold him, a straightforward task, expectations clear, the responsibility that comes with that power a pleasant one. Why can’t they just stay like this, forever?
Jimin’s thumb makes its way over to Jeongguk’s mouth, rubbing over the plushness of his lips slowly, pushing against his lip ring, making him part his lips on a sigh. Jeongguk takes Jimin’s finger in his mouth almost too eagerly, but he’s too relieved that they’re close again, the gap between them easy to ignore when Jimin is touching him like this. His tongue traces the roughness of Jimin’s fingertip, even savours the taste of emerald green on his nail, so happy with where he is, what Jimin is giving him.
Jeongguk can feel himself melting, all his muscles relaxing, the frown he was previously wearing disappearing, and he blinks open his eyes.
For one second, he catches Jimin smiling to himself, in awe, watching his finger breaching Jeongguk’s lips. Then, their eyes meet, and Jimin freezes up.
His expression changes so drastically, it throws Jeongguk out of the pleasant sensation he had begun to let himself relax into, making him shiver with the sheer coldness that comes over him. Jimin looks terrified, more than ever before, like a deer caught in headlights, so still, for a moment Jeongguk worries if he’s still breathing.
Jimin just stares at him for a beat, and Jeongguk stares back, a little dazed, a lot confused, his mouth falling open, releasing Jimin's thumb. Then, Jimin runs.
Glued to the spot by shock, Jeongguk can only watch as Jimin stumbles backwards a step, almost knocking over the tea on the bedside table, his frightened gaze stuck to Jeongguk’s face. He raises a hand to his mouth, eyes darting around in panic, then, he’s leaving, hurrying to the door of Jeongguk’s door as if he’d been burnt, everything he’s been holding in pushing him away from Jeongguk at last.
“Jimi–” Jeongguk tries calling after him, but it’s no use, Jimin is fast with fear, already out of the door when Jeongguk finally manages to command his legs.
“Hyung, please–” he shouts, jumping up, stumbling out of his room, almost falling and splitting his head open on the tiles of the kitchen floor as he tries to reach Jimin before he’s managed to put his shoes on.
Unfortunately, he’s too slow, Jimin disappearing behind the door to his apartment with a choked out sorry, another apology, another look of guilt, the image burnt in Jeongguk’s retina even as the door falls shut. Jimin is gone with a speed that makes Jeongguk question if he’s ever been truly there before or if he had just imagined him, imagined the comfort and ease becoming distress within seconds.
Jimin had looked content, and had seemed happy with Jeongguk giving himself over, so why did he run? What has he done wrong once again, why can’t they just go back, Jeongguk just wants to go back. Back to normal, back to comfortable, back to kisses and touches and smiles, not this. But there’s no way back, he notices now, only forwards, out of his apartment and over to Jimin’s, because he won’t let Jimin leave like this, won’t let him run and hide. Not this time.
Jeongguk doesn’t even bother to put on a jacket, just slips on the first pair of sneakers he finds and rushes out of the door, no phone, no wallet, no nothing, just the desire to follow Jimin, fix all that he’s fucked up. He’ll talk now, of that he is sure, because he’d been stupid to think it would work out just like this. Literally everyone always tells him to talk, and now it’ll certainly be easier, now that he has a whole panicked run over to Jimin’s to think about words, his feelings bubbling up his throat as his stomach keeps turning.
The world’s a blur around him, chilly air and wet pavement, fallen leaves and empty streets, every sensation turning into vague shapes and colours Jeongguk can only see from the corner of his eye. He’s sure if he’s fast enough, he can still catch Jimin, and if he for some reason doesn’t, Jimin will open the door for him, let him into his apartment, let him explain himself, and everything will be alright. It has to be.
Jeongguk can’t lose Jimin, not like this, not after doing everything he can to prevent that. If Jimin leaves him, Jeongguk fears he’s going to die, his heart already pounding fast enough that he has to press down a hand on his own chest to secure it, to stop it from jumping out of his ribcage and run to Jimin on its own.
He ends up reaching Jimin just as he’s typing in the code of his apartment, cursing through panicked breaths as the keypad beeps obnoxiously. He puts in the code again just as Jeongguk comes to a halt behind him, wincing when Jimin flinches at the sound of his shoes against the floor of the hallway.
“Jeongguk-ah…” Jimin sighs without turning around, eyes still glued to the keypad, even though it’s already lighting up green, indicating the door is open. He hangs his head a little, blond hair obscuring Jeongguk’s view of his face, hiding.
“Please, hyung,” Jeongguk pleads because he doesn’t know what else to say, how to get Jimin to have the conversation now. After avoiding it himself, after fucking up, regrets catching up with him so quickly it must seem pathetic to Jimin.
“What do you want from me?” The question is too all encompassing, too vague, too terrifying for Jeongguk to answer truthfully in the hallway in front of Jimin’s door.
“To talk,” Jeongguk decides, “I’m sorry for not talking earlier.”
Jimin doesn’t retort anything, just inhales visibly, his shoulders straightening up as his hands wrap around the door handle. He pushes the door open, walks inside, and leaves it, doesn’t shut it, as if to challenge Jeongguk’s bravery. Jeongguk can be brave, has to be, and so tries not to think about it, just enters Jimin’s home like he would any other day, like he’s done a hundred times before. They’re not strangers, he has to remind himself.
Jeongguk kicks off his shoes and follows Jimin to his living room, where Jimin goes to lean against a bookshelf, gesturing for Jeongguk to sit down on the couch. He’s avoiding his eye, just picks at his nail polish, his cheeks flushed and his brows furrowed. His hair keeps falling into his face, but he doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to even notice, as he just… stands there, quiet. Realizing Jimin won’t lead the conversation, Jeongguk gulps, dragging his sweaty palms over the fabric of his pants.
“Why did you leave, hyung?” he asks, because it’s the most prevalent thing on the forefront of his mind, the thing that currently makes him feel like someone is twisting a knife inside his stomach, “What did I do wrong?”
Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps working on his nails, scraping off flakes of colour with a stubborn kind of focus Jeongguk has never seen on him before. It’s as if he’s in Jimin’s apartment, with a Jimin-shaped person, who has forgotten how Jimin usually acts, what he says and how he looks at Jeongguk. Because right now, he doesn’t do any of these things.
“I know things have been weird lately, and I know that’s my fault,” Jeongguk continues, desperate to get his best friend’s attention back on him, “I noticed you being more unrestrained, and I love that for you! But I also felt like you were showing me parts of you that were more vulnerable and–”
“I’m not weak, Jeongguk,” Jimin grumbles, voice so unlike him, it pierces Jeongguk’s skin like sharp needles.
“That’s not what I mean, hyung, I just– I know this is complicated, this thing we have, and I feel like sometimes I’m too much, and I should have told you about that, I know,” Jeongguk continues, trying to explain himself, eyes fixed on Jimin chewing on his bottom lip in frustration.
“I’m fine, you’re the one who has been acting weird,” Jimin deflects, and Jeongguk drops his head because he knows it’s true. Jimin, however insecure he might have been feeling lately, has always managed to keep it together, be strong for Jeongguk.
And what did Jeongguk give him in return? Tears and desperation. Shoved away feelings and, worst of all, lies. The most inconsequential one being nothing is wrong and the worst being the denial of his own feelings. Even though he didn’t lie to Jimin’s face about it, it’s the biggest lie Jeongguk has told himself, harboured it for weeks, let it grow and let it become a problem.
“I know, but you never left me like this before, just tell me what that was just now, hyung, please,” Jeongguk pushes further. Maybe, he just needs Jimin to be more angry with him, needs him to accuse him of the very thing he’s guilty of, and then Jeongguk will be able to apologize, to feel as bad as he knows he should feel, and they’ll manage to move past it. He can’t speak the words himself, has to know if they’re the terrifying thing Jimin saw in his face that made him freeze up in shock.
Jimin, once again, stays silent. His gaze is still trained on his nails, but he’s not even picking at them anymore, just twists around the rings on his fingers aimlessly. Jeongguk knows the state Jimin is in, can basically hear the thoughts racing in his head, but Jimin doesn’t let any of them out, doesn’t voice anything. Does he not trust Jeongguk enough? Or is he putting two and two together and is unable to deal with that realization? Jeongguk can’t know, not until Jimin tells him, and it’s so frustrating, he can feel anger rise up in him besides the panic and guilt already occupying the space in his lungs he usually needs to breathe.
“What do I have to do for you to be honest and tell me?” Jeongguk sighs out, and the words seem to be hitting a nerve, Jimin visibly tensing, dropping his hands.
He looks up for the first time since they started talking, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “You want me to be honest now?!”
“Yeah, fuck, you just ran, Jimin, what else am I–”
“Oh, that’s funny,” Jimin chuckles, the sound completely devoid of actual humor, “You’ve been acting off, keeping things from me, saying I’m fine, I’m fine, let’s not talk, and now you want me to tell you what has been bothering me?!”
“Hyung–” Jeongguk’s anger is immediately pushed down by helpless desperation, the tone in Jimin’s voice scaring him enough that he’s ready to confess every thought he’s ever kept from him, even if that meant ruining their friendship completely now.
“No, don’t.” Jimin huffs out, annoyed, pushing himself off the book shelf so he can start pacing the room, a habit of his that has always stressed Jeongguk out. His steps are so quick and so loud in the stuffy silence of the room, and Jeongguk’s eyes begin to sting with tears.
“I fucked this up, didn’t I, Jeongguk-ah?” He questions, but it sounds more like he’s talking to himself, voice suddenly quiet, his annoyance giving way for something that seems more like Jimin, a mixture of guilt and self-hatred.
“I should’ve never…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, just turns around, hides his face behind his hands, and starts anew, “I am not… I can’t give you what you need.”
Jimin is not making any sense, broken syllables trying to form sentences, to no avail, as he keeps pacing, steps getting faster as he so very visibly begins to spiral, not even paying attention to Jeongguk anymore. It’s not like Jeongguk is doing anything, anyways, he feels completely frozen, watching Jimin like witnessing a car crash, silent tears rolling over his cheeks as he helplessly tries to come up with words, actions, something that would comfort Jimin.
He can only watch as Jimin’s hands begin to shake until he wraps them around himself in an attempt to hold himself together, when Jeongguk should be the one to hold him, to soothe him, to kiss it better, but he can’t, he’s stuck, useless as always. He will never be able to give Jimin what he needs, not in life, just in bed, and that realization is horrible, has Jeongguk’s heart sink until there’s no way to go further.
“Jimin,” he chokes out, throat tight with despair, voice wet with the tears running down his face.
At the call of his name, Jimin comes to a halt in the middle of the room, facing Jeongguk, and the whole world around them stops as well.
“Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin sobs, face twisted in the most pained expression Jeongguk has ever seen on him, “I’m so unbelievably sorry, you have no idea, I never wanted to– I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”
Every apology is another stab to Jeongguk’s heart, the way Jimin sounds completely broken, reduced to nothing but guilt and shame, resorting to endless words of remorse and regret. He’s apologizing like he always is, because he thinks it’ll make Jeongguk forgive him, make him like him again, as if Jimin doesn’t want clarity, doesn’t want the truth, just wants Jeongguk to make him stop hating himself. For once, Jeongguk doesn’t give him the easy way out.
“Stop apologizing,” he says, as steadily as he can muster while his tears keep flowing, “Just stop, we can’t– I need the truth, not meaningless apologies.”
Jimin snaps his mouth shut as his eyes widen, his arms tightening around himself as he looks at Jeongguk as if he means to look through him, glare piercing, intimidating despite– or because of– the hurt written all over his face.
“Meaningless apologies?” he echoes coldly, “Do you want me to come up with a whole speech in which I beg for your forgiveness?” The way Jimin keeps switching between anger and sadness, annoyance and guilt, it gives Jeongguk whiplash, has his blood boiling.
“No, hyung,” he huffs out, throwing his head back in frustration. He collects himself as quickly as he can, doesn’t want Jimin to talk again, just wants to make him understand, make him realize Jeongguk is safe, they can talk, they have to.
“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, why you look at me as if you’re scared of me sometimes, why you ran, why you keep apologizing instead of just telling–”
“I’m in love with you.”
The words tumble out of Jimin’s mouth in a way that resembles vomiting, spitting them all out despite the way it visibly pains him. They seem to taste bitter on his tongue, causing him to twist his mouth and bite his bottom lip once they’re out, while he stares at Jeongguk with empty eyes saying is this what you wanted?
“I– What?!” Jeongguk stammers, an icy shiver running down his back as Jimin stops crying, stops apologizing, even stops hugging himself, his arms hanging next to his body in defeat.
“I’ve been in love with you for months,” Jimin goes on to say, voice lacking all the warmth such a confession should hold, “I kept having sex with you, selfishly. I kept pushing you to do the things I wanted, selfishly. I made you mine in the one way you allowed me to, instead of doing any of the things I should have done. I’m a terrible friend, a terrible dom, and I hope this apology is sufficient for you. I’m sorry.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what to retort, what to think, even, has trouble processing the words he’s hearing. It’s all so terrifying– the look of utter defeat on Jimin’s face, in his voice, in the way he holds himself as if he’s stopped caring about the way he presents himself in the worst way possible. He’s given up. Given up on himself, given up on them.
His confession, though one of love by definition, is more of a surrender.
Even though Jeongguk tries to speak, nothing comes out of his mouth, it just hangs open uselessly as he stares at Jimin. Once a source of hope and joy, he now seems so devoid of anything he’s ever been to Jeongguk that it scares him, pins him in place and pushes him to leave at the same time, and he has absolutely no idea how to fix it. There’s nothing he can say or do.
“My only job as your friend was to be honest, and as your dom I should’ve been strong and responsible, but I couldn’t be either,” Jimin exhales shakily, “I’m probably all the fucking things Taehyung told you I am.”
“No–” Jeongguk croaks out, but Jimin raises a hand and waves it dismissively.
“I don’t need your pity, I’ve been shitty enough, and now I know that ‘sorry’ won’t fix that, you were right.”
They both fall quiet then, not even the sound of crying audible anymore as they just stare at each other, both frozen in their respective place. Jeongguk, sitting on the couch, whole body trembling, Jimin standing on the other side of the room, so unnervingly still he doesn’t even look alive anymore.
It seems unbelievable, that Jimin is supposedly in love with him, the way he stands, soft features hardened with emotions Jeongguk can’t even name, hair tousled with the way he was running his hands through it, posture lacking both his usual confidence and elegance. He seems more like he hates him, or like he wants Jeongguk to hate him, maybe.
Everything feels wrong. The air Jeongguk desperately tries to breathe, the silence, the soft cushions Jeongguk is leaning against, the carpet beneath his feet, the unbearable distance between the two supposed best friends. Even though his thoughts were previously running, his mind feels empty now, overloaded, exhausted from crying and tired of a conversation leading nowhere.
How could Jimin confess like this, here, now, with words that make him seem like an asshole, like he’s a bad person? Jeongguk knows Jimin is not, knows his feelings for him are true even as their stares grow colder, knows their connection is real– was real? He doesn’t know what will happen now, and the thought scares him, but he knows nothing will happen if they stay stuck like this, their chests heaving slightly with the confusion feelings rushing through both of them. They’re worlds apart but still connected, somehow, cruelly, ultimately in a position that’s the same, or similar enough, if Jeongguk only had the words–
“God, I should’ve never had sex with you,” Jimin mumbles underneath his breath, and Jeongguk can’t stand it anymore.
In one swift motion, he gets up, distantly realizing he’s doing the exact same thing Jimin did before, but not caring, just having to get out. He doesn’t spare Jimin another glance, doesn’t need to, he knows he’s looking apologetic once again, would probably utter the word sorry until his lips are sore if Jeongguk would let him.
Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin doesn’t call after him, doesn’t stop him, which only serves to make Jeongguk’s annoyance about the whole situation spike, his heart hammering in a simply confusing rhythm as he crosses the room, gets his shoes, and walks out of the door. Jeongguk sees himself leave through a haze, his eyes unfocused and brain so very far away, he barely notices what he’s doing, if there are still tears on his face or not. He’s not even hurried, not really, leaves at a normal speed, walks down the hallways even slower than he would on a normal day.
He’s stupid enough to imagine Jimin might chase after him just like he did.