Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“I’m not letting you get on that stage.”

Those words are the beginning of Jimin’s downfall, spoken with all the disdain of a small, small man who’s probably never experienced warmth on a cold day in winter.

“Sure, Jungkook, don’t let me perform in tonight’s show. I dare you,” Jimin challenges. It wouldn’t be so bad, hearing the bar’s manager threaten to not let him perform for the billionth time, except this time it comes after Jimin called him a jackass and, maybe, told him he never should have been born.

Uncalled for, yes, he knows, but he’s not going to take it back, not when Jungkook was the one who called him petty just because he has a rival. What are you, twelve? Jungkook had asked, thus beginning the whole tirade that’s brought them here, to Jungkook’s office, where their early customers and other performers can’t overhear.

“I’m not letting you perform,” Jungkook says. “You’ve had the spotlight enough times this week. Today’s supposed to be your rest day.”

Jimin groans. He hates that ever since Jungkook started working here a few months ago, he’s dreaded coming into work. The pay is good and he loves his customers but dealing with Jungkook hurts his soul. It doesn’t help how good looking the man is, hair a little long around his nape, piercings lining his ears and lower lip, tattoos littered across an arm.

Jimin hates everything about him.

“Look, dude, I’ve worked here probably longer than you’ve been alive—”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re barely two years older—”

“SO I know a bit about how this business works,” Jimin continues aggressively, his patience running thin. “If you don’t let your star performer dance in tonight’s show, you will lose customers, which will lead to a loss of profit, which will lead to you losing your damn job, which I’m beginning to think you don’t even want with the way you treat your employees.”

“You weren’t even on the roster for tonight.”

“And I told you, Binna is happy to let me take her place and perform tomorrow instead.”

Jungkook sighs, sitting back in his chair as he puts a hand on his forehead. Jimin doesn’t understand why he’s acting all irritated when the solution is right in front of them.

“Seriously, what’s the big deal?” Jimin taunts. “You’re making both our lives difficult, and for what?”

Jungkook looks up sharply. “You can’t possibly think I’d change things around just because your supposed rival is going to be in the audience tonight. And for your information, Binna only agreed to switch to be nice. She’ll need to cancel her date tomorrow night and she can’t reschedule it for weeks.”

Jimin lets that sink in for a moment before saying, “Take someone else out then.”

“No.” Jungkook gets to his feet decisively. “This conversation is over.”

If Jimin wasn’t so desperate, if Yoongi hadn’t said he would stop by tonight, if things with him were different, he would have stopped asking. But Jimin needs this; he just has to make Jungkook understand.

“Jungkook, please,” Jimin says, turning to follow on Jungkook’s heels as he heads for the door.

“No.”

“Put me on at the end. Add ten minutes! I’ll do it for free!”

Jungkook pauses with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to look at Jimin as if considering. Jimin can’t help feeling hopeful. He can’t, despite knowing that hope often leads to disappointment.

“Do you know what you are?” Jungkook says.

Jimin might have survived had Jungkook just lashed out at him again. The calm tone does nothing to ease the bitterness in his chest. It just turns it ugly, filling it with all the worst things he thinks about himself.

“You’re a spoiled child. You’ve probably gotten everything you ever wanted in your life, and now that I won’t give in, you’re throwing a tantrum. You’re twenty-five. It’s time you grow up.”

Jungkook doesn’t let him say another word. He just stalks out and leaves Jimin there framed by the doorway, speechless, hurt, and angry.

So that’s what Jungkook thinks of him. Spoiled. As if he hasn’t had his own hardships. He’s suffered ridicule for what he does, knows how most dancers who join this place want to get out. He must be the only one who actually loves it, sees the value in upending himself on a pole.

Sijaghada is the name of the club— Begin. Jimin’s been working here for nearly two years, his first well paid, permanent gig, and for the first time, he detests himself for putting so much of himself in this place. Most dancers leave after a year, but he decided to stay. Thought, well, people like him here. Why should he give that up?

He packs up his things in a hurry afterwards. Binna comes up to him in a hurry, false concern dripping from her lips as she starts to say, “I’m sorry. I thought for sure he would still let you—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin tells her.

It’s not fine.

“It’s not a big deal.”

It’s the biggest deal.

“I gotta go.”

He exits the club with his backpack, his dance gear inside. He doesn’t pay Jungkook another glance. His thoughts are turning and his fury is growing and if he stays any longer, he’ll say something he regrets.

In the end, he drives his bike to a bar next to his apartment, orders a beer or two or three before slinking back home, barely buzzed but too tired to do much about it.

His last straw sits outside his door, feet pulled up to his bum as he reads some book from this author Jimin remembers he really likes.

Before Yoongi even sees him, Jimin’s scoffing. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi glances up, dog earing his book and snapping it shut. “I missed you at the club tonight. Thought I’d see you perform but you never came on.”

Jimin goes to his door, not bothering to spare his step brother a glance. “Did you come here to gloat?”

“I came to see how my little brother’s getting on.”

“He’s happy, thank you very much. You can leave now. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Not till the morning,” Yoongi says, getting to his feet calmly and grabbing his suitcase from against the wall. Jimin doesn’t stop him from entering, nor from making himself at home on the couch.

Wordlessly, Jimin gets him a glass of water, setting it down on the coffee table before sitting as far away as possible from Yoongi on a chair at the dining table, which, really, isn’t that far away, considering it’s right next to the couch.

“I thought you said you were performing tonight,” Yoongi says. Jimin can hear the criticism behind those words. He knows it well. When he told Yoongi back in high school he wanted to make this a profession, his brother laughed in his face.

“Yeah, well things change,” Jimin responds coldly.

“Something happen at the club?”

“Nothing happened. Just didn’t get to perform tonight.”

“It’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing you.”

Jimin feels like a failure beneath those words. Because his family has never approved of a single thing he liked and Yoongi was always the loved one, the smart one, the successful one. He travels the world eleven months out of twelve, a professor, a researcher, a volunteer. There’s not a single thing he can’t do.

And a few years ago, when Jimin was still an amateur pole dancer taking lessons, Yoongi joined him for a class. It’s not even that he was immediately good; it’s just that Jimin saw that he could be, and the thought of his brother taking over this thing too pushed him over the edge.

“Another time, I guess,” Jimin says.

“Do you want to hear something cool?” Yoongi always has cool things to say, and once upon a time, Jimin might have jumped on the chance to hear about it. Except nowadays those stories seem excessive, like that time Yoongi rode up the side of a volcano on a horse in Guatemala, or the time he swam with whales in the Sea of Cortez.

This past year, he’s been in Portugal, learning the language as he studies marine life and gets a second PhD. It’s a tame story in comparison to his others, but to Jimin, it’s an even bigger reason to feel small, because tonight was the one night he could have shown Yoongi his thing.

And Jungkook took that away from him.

Wouldn’t even hear his story.

Called this a petty rivalry when Jimin’s been fighting for attention beside the most brilliant person he’s ever met for most of his life.

Jungkook didn’t care. That disdain in his eyes, the utter dismissal of his feelings, the judgement, all of it took something away from Jimin that he’s not sure he can get back, not when Yoongi’s flight takes off in a few hours, and who knows when he’ll return. If he’ll be willing to drop by the club again. If Jimin will even still love it by then.

“You can’t change your flight, can you?” Jimin asks sometime later.

“No.” Yoongi’s stretching now, yawning, ready to head to bed. “There’s an exhibit I’m hoping to make in Rome before going back to Portugal.”

“Right.”

Jimin sends out a single text before he goes to sleep, a simple: I quit.

Because he’ll never forgive Jungkook for not letting him perform.

What he doesn’t know is that Jungkook will never forgive him for leaving.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jungkook’s boss is a stern man, twice his age and nearly twice his size around the middle. He flicks ash off his cigarette and it lands on the floor around their feet. They’re outside since Bossman (aka Han Daesung), who doesn’t often come to the club, asked to speak to him as soon as he walked in this morning.

“Let me get this straight,” he says. “You pissed off our best dancer, who’s been with us for two years, and now he wants to quit? Do you realise what you’ve done?”

Jungkook stutters, needing to offer some explanation even though his brain will barely compute the fact that his fight with Jimin yesterday actually ended in him quitting. “Sir, surely he’s joking? He loves dancing here.”

“He said, and I quote,” Bossman gets out his phone, thumbing presumably to a message Jimin sent, “‘I quit.’ That was sent last night. When I asked him why, he replied this morning that ‘the manager and I had a little disagreement, and he made me realise I’m not valued here.’ What do you have to say for yourself?”

“We have a policy,” Jungkook blurts out, shocked at the turn of events. Jimin’s leaving? Because of him? “Dancers aren’t supposed to work more than four nights in a row. It’s in the guidebook you gave me.”

“Then you should have handled things better. If you couldn’t let him dance, you should have managed him so he still felt like we valued him here. Don’t think I haven’t gotten complaints from the other dancers about the fights you two get into.”

Jungkook searches his brain for a defence. “I- I don’t—”

“Was it personal?”

“Wh- What?”

“Did you stay professional during your conversation?”

“Of course—”

“Or do boys who do feminine things bother you?”

What?

That’s not it at all. And why should it matter what Jimin does? Jungkook has nothing against it, nothing. Does Bossman really think he’d hate someone for what they do? He’s never seen anything wrong with pole dancing, sort of enjoys the performances in fact—might love them, even. “No, of course not—”

“You know what?” Bossman holds up a hand to stop Jungkook from speaking. “I’m tired of your excuses. I’ll fix this. But consider this a warning. Your parents are my friends and it wasn’t my choice to give a twenty-three year old a job like this, but they insisted you have years of experience in managing a restaurant and I needed someone to fill the role, so I decided to give you a chance. But if you mess up one more time…”

The threat remains unspoken in the air. Bossman leaves Jungkook there, cigarette stomped on the ground before he goes back into the club to clean up his mess.

It turns out, Jungkook later learns, that Jimin’s not coming back. He says he needs a change of pace, that he’ll never forget his time here and the people he met, and that he’ll always be grateful to Bossman for giving him a chance when he was down on his luck, jobs trickling in so slowly, he could barely keep his head above water.

Jimin says all this at a going away party. Bossman asks if he’ll take the stage one more time for them, and he does, and all the while Jungkook watches from his unpopular corner, completely aware of the fact that Jimin purposely won’t look his way.

But that’s okay, because it gives Jungkook the space to watch him dance. When Jimin’s on stage, he and the pole become one, and he lifts himself from the ground like an angel. He really is their best performer. His grace is unmatched. His beauty… unparalleled.

The club won’t be much without him, and guilt rises up in Jungkook so strongly that after the party, when most everyone has gone home and Jimin’s about to get on his bike outside, Jungkook rushes out to speak to him.

It’s dark, one of the lights on the street blew out weeks ago and no one’s bothered to fix it, and the lights that make up the name of the club have been shut off now that it’s past closing time.

Jimin sees him though, helmet in hand. “Come to say goodbye?”

“Why are you leaving?” Jungkook asks, because he doesn’t understand.

“Did Daesung not tell you?”

As it always is when Jungkook speaks to Jimin, he instantly feels annoyed. “You have a problem with me, don’t you?”

Jimin glares at him. “Your dense brain finally figured it out?”

“You can’t just leave.”

“I can do whatever I want, asshole.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jungkook asks before he can stop himself. The words hang in the air between them, violent and ugly. “All because I wouldn’t let you perform one night?”

“The fact you think this is all because of one night tells me you don’t know anything.” Jimin bites back.

“You’re being childish.”

“Fuck you.”

“This place needs you. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Jungkook means it sincerely and from the bottom of his heart. But Jimin disregards all of that, yelling like a maniac.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before shoving me aside like I don’t matter!”

“I never said you don’t matter,” Jungkook argues. Is Jimin stupid? Or does he just have a bad memory? Jungkook would never say that about someone, never, least of all him. “Just come back. I know you don’t really want to leave.”

Jimin lets out a laugh of disbelief, then slides his helmet on. “You don’t know anything.”

“Jimin—”

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

Jungkook watches him get on his bike, the noise of it coming to life deafening to his ears. And then, just like that, Jimin’s gone.

He’s gone.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The new bar Jimin dances at is called Serendipity. It’s smaller, not quite so mainstream and with less days for dancing, but he tries to look on the bright side of things.

For one, he has more freedom. Maybe because they’re smaller and in a sketchier part of town, but he’s allowed to be more risqué—more scantily clad, more seductive. Men and women alike come here to admire him in the late hours of the night, and call him simple but… he loves to be admired.

Two, there isn’t another Jungkook to boss him around, which means his days are filled with peace and quiet. His coworkers are all nice and welcoming, his manager is quiet but kind, and the big boss doesn’t seem to care much about him as long as he’s bringing in money.

And three, he’s made a few new friends. There’s Namjoon, a bouncer who keeps them all safe, and there’s Taehyung, who works behind the bar, and then there’s Hoseok, another dancer. He feels cared for here—valued, even, and yet…

There’s something missing. He’s happy, but something feels off. It catches up to him around two months after he starts working here. It’s like there’s this restlessness inside him, this urge for something to chase the boredom away. Sijaghada was all fire but this feels stagnant, no matter the new dances he gets to do.

After his shift one night, he drops on a seat by the bar and lifts a finger up to get Taehyung’s attention. “Let me guess,” Taehyung says as he walks over, “A gin and tonic?”

“I do love a good gin and tonic, but maybe lose the tonic? On the rocks?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow and goes to make him exactly what he asked for. “Rough night? Unhappy with your performance?”

“No, I was great tonight.” Jimin smiles when Taehyung chuckles at the lack of humility. “Just feeling a little off. Nothing a drink or two can’t fix.”

“You know,” Taehyung says, leaning across the bar as he sets the finished drink on the counter, “I can help you if you’re bored.”

Jimin takes the drink and rolls his eyes. Taehyung makes insinuations like this at least once a week, but it’s something he does with all the dancers. Jimin might have almost taken him seriously his first night here, right before Hoseok swept in and explained his nefarious ways. He’s used to it now.

“And then what?” Jimin challenges. “Will you make me breakfast in bed and put a ring on my finger?”

“Can do. Do you like gold or silver, baby?”

“Either’s fine but I need to warn you, I’m a fan of big diamonds.”

“Afford a diamond ring on a bartender’s salary? Easy. I’ll have that ring on your finger by tomorrow. Let the world know you’re a taken man.”

“Shall I book a flight to Vegas for the wedding then? How’s this weekend sound?”

“My calendar’s always free for you, love.”

Jimin steals a napkin off the counter and throws it in Taehyung’s face, cracking up. “You’re so cheesy. Go back to work.”

Taehyung clutches the napkin to his chest, a dramatic pout on his face. “And here I thought you were being serious for once.”

Jimin sips his drink and gives another roll of his eyes. Even if Taehyung were being serious with his ‘advances’, he would still say no. He’s not interested in a relationship right now, or anything that can tie him down. It’s that restlessness rearing its head. Something is missing from his life. He just has no idea what.

The next few days are so… uneventful, and Jimin feels it more when he spends one of his mornings on the phone with his family. His parents ask the usual questions—what’s new, any updates, any changes, anything we can be excited about, or will we be leaving this call knowing what a disappointment one of our sons is?

Jimin might be confident onstage, but in front of the eyes of his family, he shies away, prefers to let his step brother take the spotlight, even while on the inside everything feels broken.

“Jimin, what have you been up to lately?”

Jimin, where are your accolades?

“Has anything more come out of your… aspirations?”

Where is the proof that says you’ve been trying at all?

“Yoongi is the best role model.”

Why can’t you be more like your brother?

Mother loved Yoongi the very first time they met. It had been two years since Father passed away. Jimin thought usually it took longer for grief to pass and new love to take root, but Mother fell in love with Yoongi’s dad quickly, and it wasn’t long before Jimin’s family of two became four. It wasn’t long before Jimin realised Yoongi was the son Mother had always wanted, not long before he felt himself cast aside.

Once upon a time, he didn’t blame him. He really did look up to him, saw him as a role model, noticed that he went after the things he wanted. Jimin tried to do the same, but the response was never the same.

“Your son wants to be a dancer?” he once overheard his step-dad saying, all hushed because obviously he didn’t want anyone but Mother to hear.

“He’s always had wild fancies like that, but he’ll grow out of it, just you wait.”

As if his dreams didn’t hold the same weight as Yoongi’s. As if nothing he wanted mattered because it didn’t fit in with the mould his parents had crafted, Yoongi the guinea pig who succeeded their every expectation and Jimin the failure who never even tried.

“What’s next for you, Yoongi?” Mother inquires towards the end of the call.

They don’t even bother asking Jimin that anymore.

Later after work, he prepares to head out. It’s one of those nights where his sorrows permeate him from head to toe, and he doesn’t want to stay around the people he knows any longer, lest they find out there’s something bothering him.

“Heading out too?” Namjoon asks. He’s getting his jacket from the back room; his shift must have just ended.

“Yeah.” Jimin zips up, pulling on a pair of gloves. He kind of just wants to ride out with no destination in mind. He wants the wind to take him wherever it wants to go.

“You alright?” Namjoon wears this inquisitive look, but it’s lighthearted too, as if to say Jimin doesn’t have to answer or go into detail. But if he wants to, he’s welcome.

Jimin shrugs. Is his sorrow that easy to read? “One of those days.”

“Right. I think I know what you mean. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not much to talk about. Just…” He’s not sure if he wants to let Namjoon in or get him off his back. “Just restless.”

“How come?”

“Just am. I’m bored, I guess.”

Namjoon fixes the lapels of his jacket together so he can pull the zipper up. “Life gets like that sometimes. I used to feel that way a lot too, but lately, I’ve discovered pleasure in all the little things in life.”

Maybe Namjoon’s the one who wants to talk, because he doesn’t wait for Jimin to respond before going on.

“I used to have these giant dreams. I wanted to write a book, didn’t matter what about, I just wanted people to know me. But then I realised, sometimes you can work at a bar, and have a handful of good friends, and read books and take in art and just be happy.”

Jimin finds himself scoffing as he grabs his helmet, tucking it under an arm. “Or you can do all that and still be bored out of your mind.”

Namjoon probably catches the grating tone. Jimin’s really not in the mood to talk about this. “Well of course you’d be bored doing those things. I was just using my things as examples. You’d have to find your own.”

Jimin doesn’t have anything else. Pole dancing is his life, the only thing he knows, and he’s been ridiculed about it enough times that the joy in it sometimes seems fleeting. Then there’s that lack of—fire. His days here have been so calm, so peaceful and unchanging.

He doesn’t feel like he’s fighting to reach his ambitions. He doesn’t feel like he’s needed to prove himself at all. And perhaps to someone like Namjoon, feelings like these would be ideal, because it would mean he can just… enjoy it.

But he can’t, because it feels like reaching a deadline, it feels like an unfinished story, it feels like giving up.

Jimin gives Namjoon a tight smile. “Thanks for the advice. I have to go. See you around.”

He gets on his bike, hoping the drive will at the very least clear his mind. If not, well, there’s a bar right by his apartment that he frequents. Maybe the answers to his questions will be there, buried at the bottom of a bottle.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Ever since Jimin up and left them all to drown, things have been steadily declining. Sijaghada has lost its flair, a bunch of its regular customers deciding not to return once they learned Jimin had moved on somewhere else.

Jungkook doesn’t get it, the way some of these customers latched onto the dream Jimin fed them through his dances and his eyes. He doesn’t understand how the only reason they enjoyed their time here was because of an unspoken promise of beauty and skill, as if in Jimin’s movements was the whisper of an escape they all craved, and now that he’s gone, so is that dream.

No one compares to him, that is what they’re saying, what Daesung likes to constantly remind him of, what the other dancers tell him with their dirty stares, their laments that they miss Jimin when they know he’s just around the corner, listening in.

Jungkook saw it coming, honestly. What he’s learned in the last twenty-three years is that no matter how hard he tries, everything always falls apart. Sometimes he wonders—what’s the point in trying?

This evening, he walks into work and Daesung pulls him aside, saying, “You’re out.”

At first, Jungkook doesn’t understand. Out, he thinks. What does that even mean? But some of the dancers nearby are giving him side eyes and when he looks over, they all turn away at once. He feels like he’s back in high school and everyone knows something he doesn’t.

“I’m…” Jungkook says dumbly. “What?”

“You’re fired. Get your things.”

Bossman may as well have slapped him across the face. His world is tilting off its axis. This can’t be happening.

Even if a very large part of him expected this, even if, really, he saw this coming a mile away, he still feels blindsided. Like his world is crashing down around him—over a job he never cared about in the first place.

“You can’t just…” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “You can’t just fire me without notice. You’re supposed to give me notice.”

“This is your notice. And for your information, you didn’t go through normal hiring processes so no, I don’t have to give you more than a few minutes to get your things. I want you gone, Jungkook.”

“Did my parents…” He can’t believe he’s about to ask this. So pathetic he can’t even take responsibility for what he might have done. “Did my parents do something to make you angry?”

Bossman is furious, Jungkook can tell. He should have just kept his mouth shut and walked out of there. “No, Jungkook, but I’m starting to get angry that they raised a son who has the audacity to ask something like that.”

“Sorry.” Jungkook shuffles his feet back. Fine. He’ll leave. He just wants to go.

“Are you?” Bossman asks. His words hold Jungkook there. The other people who work there have caught on to what’s happening. They’re watching like Jungkook’s world falling apart is some kind of show. “I wanted to give you a chance. Do you get that?”

“Yes. Fine. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Bossman repeats, his smile taunting, cruel. “After you made one of my best dancers quit, I started watching you. But you can’t handle the pressure, can you? And now I have to face your parents because their son wasn’t good enough. I wanted you to succeed.”

No you didn’t.

Jungkook feels like he’s just a punching bag at this point. Sure, Bossman was nice enough to give him this job, but he wasn’t given any training, no sense of what was expected of him, nothing but a guidebook on what he could and couldn’t do.

And then Jimin left.

Jimin fucking left and everything went to shit.

No. Everything went to shit way before that, when his parents needed an extra pair of hands around their restaurant and Jungkook gave up his dreams to stay around. Lost the chance for an education all because his parents nearly went under. Figured, it would turn around at some point.

Realised pretty soon that was just a lie he was feeding himself so the regret wouldn’t bury him six feet under.

Who is he kidding?

He was never cut out for this, never wanted this, just thought, maybe, he could stand on his own two feet and get somewhere. This was a chance and he blew it.

“Sorry to disappoint you, sir,” Jungkook says now. It’s strange, this numbness that comes over him, like he’s submerged under water and everyone else exists above land. He huffs in sudden amusement. “I’ll tell my parents I messed up, okay? So you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, you will,” Bossman says. “It’s the least you owe me.”

After that… Well, Jungkook doesn’t really remember the walk of shame out of the building, but once he’s in the fresh air, he collapses on the curb. He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry and that numbness seems to be taking away his ability to do both, so he just sits there.

The world passes by him for who knows how long until a bouncer working at Sijaghida tells him he can’t sit there any longer.

Jungkook starts to walk. He would take his stuff home but it’s really not much, just a notebook he brought on his first day to take notes. All he has inside there is a list of names—all the people who work there, because he didn’t want to forget. The first person he met was Park Jimin.

He doesn’t have to look to remember what he wrote next to his name: pretty, amazing dancer, maybe we can be friends.

Scoffing, he squeezes the notebook in his hand, tempted to throw it away. Maybe he’ll just tear out the first few pages, reuse it someplace else because it would be a waste to get rid of it with so many empty pages.

He can start anew.

He wants to start anew but the prospect of doing so terrifies him.

His thoughts are telling him that even when he does, he’ll find himself back here once again, jobless with nothing but a notebook in his hand and regret in his heart.

Before his parents nearly went broke, he wanted to be a singer.

He… wanted to be a singer.

Jungkook finds himself walking into a bar on a street he’s never been down before. It’s fairly quiet, more a neighbourhood district than somewhere people would come to party. He’s kind of glad for that. He just wants to drink.

He just wants to forget.

The bar isn’t big, but there are these booths along one of the walls and he takes one of the last ones so no one can bother him. As he drinks whiskey on the rocks, he thinks how alone he’s been his entire life, how the world seems to hate him and nothing he does ever ends in his favour.

It’s like a curse. The things he wants, the things he longs for, constantly out of reach, him a swimmer in a river, his dreams in a basket just ahead; he can see them, but he can’t touch them, and every second that passes sets him back further.

One day they won’t just be out of reach. One day he won’t even see them anymore, probably won’t remember what they were in the first place.

He’s two glasses in when a mop of reddish brown hair catches his eye. Not a lot of people have their hair dyed in the bar, so he stands out, hair reflecting the light. Jungkook catches sight of the back of his head as he plops down on a seat by the bar and waves a server over like he’s done this a million times before.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he keeps watching. From his little perch in a corner of the bar, he supposes he feels invisible, a watcher rather than a player in this game called life.

The guy orders something and the bartender cracks open a bottle of beer for him. As he drinks, his head tilts back, and Jungkook frowns as he catches a glimpse of those lips, that nose… There’s something so familiar about it. Even the way he shifts on his chair, Jungkook would swear he’s seen that before.

He watches the stranger deplete more than half the bottle before putting it down. As if he senses someone’s eyes on him, he suddenly twists in his seat and—

Oh.

That’s why he was so familiar.

Jimin’s expression flickers into one of surprise when their eyes meet. Jungkook grimaces in annoyance. Of all the people he could have run into, and in such a small, obscure place too, of course it had to be him.

The world is mocking him.

Jungkook clutches his notebook and leans back, breaking eye contact. Whatever. He’ll just pretend he’s not here, finish his drink and maybe go somewhere else, or just go home, because there’s nothing for him here.

He doesn’t expect to hear the sound of thick boots scuffing the floor, coming to a stop right by his table. Even before he looks up, he knows who it is.

“What the hell are you doing in my bar?” Jimin barks.

Jungkook glances up, not trying to hide his distaste. Jimin might look good in tight leather pants and a shirt that reveals far too much chest, but his attitude completely overwhelms that. Jungkook really doesn’t need this right now. “Oh? This is your bar? I didn’t see your name out front.”

“Well I come here all the time and I’ve never seen you before, so it’s more my bar than yours.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Is this the part where you kick me out?”

“Would only be fair.” But Jimin doesn’t. Instead, he takes the seat across from Jungkook, to his utter surprise, then says, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says drily.

“Just saying what I see.”

“Okay.” Jungkook takes a large gulp of whiskey, sees he’s pretty much out, and then raises a hand to get a server’s attention. Once another glass is on its way, he looks at Jimin. “Why are you still here?”

Jimin looks a little taken aback by the question, like he’s not sure himself. “Can’t I be? You looked lonely.”

“Oh? Does someone feel sorry for me?” Jungkook mocks.

“Fuck no,” Jimin snaps back. “I don’t have enough energy to waste on you anyway. Get off your high horse.”

Normally, Jungkook might take the bait and fire something back, perhaps say, I forgot how annoying you can be, but it never comes. He just eyes the server, only lighting up when he sees him coming back with his drink.

He really needs this drink.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Jimin suddenly says, as if they’ve somehow become drinking buddies. Jungkook is desperately trying to figure out how to politely tell Jimin to fuck off.

“It’s whiskey,” Jungkook informs Jimin.

“I can hold my alcohol, but thanks for your worry.”

“I’m not fucking worried.” Jungkook can feel the liquor getting to him already. He knocked one too many back too fast, and now that Jimin’s here, he feels nothing but bitterness. Maybe he should just leave and continue this pity party at home.

“Sure you aren’t.” Jimin’s lips twist in something that Jungkook thinks is a cross between mischief and friendliness, like he’s really, actually, interested in talking to him. Or maybe Jungkook’s just seeing what he wants to see. “Honestly though, why are you here?” Jimin finally asks.

Jimin’s whiskey arrives. Jungkook frowns into his glass.

“Can we just— not? I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“It’s just talking.”

“It’s never just talking with you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “God. You’re such a pain in my ass.” He proceeds to clean most of his drink in a single gulp, barely wincing. “I never took you for a whiskey guy,” he mumbles, spinning his glass one way and then the other.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“So tell me something.”

“Why?”

“I need a distraction,” Jimin says.

Jungkook suddenly finds himself wondering why Jimin is here, and what he would have done had he not seen Jungkook sitting here alone.

He’s not here with anyone, as far as Jungkook can tell.

Maybe he can indulge him for a little bit.

“I make really good food,” Jungkook says, not sure why that was the first thing he thought of telling Jimin. He supposes it’s the one thing he got out of working at his parents’ restaurant from such a young age. He’s a stellar cook.

Jimin looks him up and down. “How modest of you to say. Guess it’s my turn. Hmm…”

That wasn’t really the agreement, but maybe Jimin’s right to turn this into a game. Jungkook could use a distraction too.

“I actually don’t like whiskey. Your choice in drinks sucks.” Jimin really has a way with words. Any other day, Jungkook might have snapped at him for being childish.

Today he says, “I bet you’re a sweet drink guy.”

“And if I am?”

“Then you should get something sweet to drink.”

“Only if you’ll have one with me.”

“Fine,” Jungkook acquiesces. “But I’m expecting something good.”

“Just you wait.”

Jimin stands to order the drinks, going to the bar so Jungkook can’t hear what he asks for. When he comes back, he’s got a smirk on his lips. Tapping the table, he says, “Okay. Tell me something else about you.”

It’s not often Jungkook thinks about himself, so it takes a few seconds of thinking before he says, “I’m an only child.”

A look of realisation dawns on Jimin’s face. “Of course. It all makes sense now.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jimin doesn’t let Jungkook pry any more than that. “I used to be an only child.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Used to be?”

“Mother remarried,” Jimin explains. “That was two things, so I get to skip the next round. What else? Tell me something interesting about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Glancing down at his notebook, he wonders what Jimin expects. This whole conversation feels put on, like they’re trying to delude themselves that there’s not this awful tension between them, hours’ worth of arguments that have left them both bitter and annoyed.

Something interesting.

“I had my first girlfriend when I was ten years old,” Jungkook says.

Jimin just stares at him impassively. “Oh yeah? Thought you played for the other team.”

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s right—he does. Just tells him, “We dated for almost an entire year, but I never really talked to her. Her friend asked me out on her behalf and I said yes. We were boyfriend and girlfriend and when the school year finished, we had our first conversation and decided we couldn’t date anymore.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. Inside, Jungkook feels a bit of pride. He thinks he might like seeing Jimin smile. “That’s— Okay. That’s interesting.”

Jungkook’s tongue feels loose, and he goes on to say, “My first real date was when I was eighteen. One of the customers at my parents’ restaurant asked me out. He was my first kiss. My first… everything.”

That ended badly too, didn’t it?

It was about the time Jungkook stopped putting stock in dreams. All they did was seed disappointment.

He can’t think too hard about it or else he might cry.

“He?” Jimin asks, something shifting in his expression.

Their drinks come then, saving Jungkook from answering. The server sets down two tall, curvy glasses with drinks that look like sunsets. He takes a sip immediately, then pretends to cough and sputter even though it’s actually pretty good.

“You can’t be serious,” Jimin says, choking on a laugh with disbelief.

Jungkook decides to switch to wheezing, playing up the dramatics. He must already be drunk, or maybe he’s just crazy, putting on this stupid show to make Jimin smile. He takes a shuddering breath, then says, “Terrible. Disgusting. Your taste in drinks sucks.”

Jimin sticks out his tongue. “You know, somehow I don’t believe you.”

Jungkook takes another sip more calmly this time, swallows without any issues. “Why ever not?”

“Stop!” Jimin whines, laughing for real this time. He kicks his foot out, hitting Jungkook’s leg. “You’re a really bad actor, you know.”

“Made you smile though.”

“Hm.” The smile lingers on Jimin’s face, this pretty thing Jungkook wants to burn into his memory so he has something to look back on when all this ends.

But ah…

This is awkward. Even with the alcohol in his system, Jungkook can tell that it is. There have been too many heated conversations between them for this to end up anywhere good, and yet they both hold their ground; they both stay.

If there was one thing they always had in common, it was their stubbornness.

“Is it my turn?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook takes a long sip from the drink. “Think so.”

“Since we’re on the topic of dating… I had my first boyfriend when I was sixteen. Broke my heart though. I vowed not to date again, but a few months later, someone else asked me out. He broke my heart too, but I think I would have ended it anyway. We dated for three years and he never respected me. Haven’t dated anyone seriously since.”

Jungkook wants to say several things.

I’m sorry.

Must’ve been hard.

I get it.

What he says is, “How many things was that?”

Jimin scoffs softly through his nose, bringing the straw of his drink to his lips and chugging it until it’s all gone. He’s probably disappointed that Jungkook didn’t ask him about it. Jimin likes to talk about himself. Craves attention. He’s spoiled in that way, Jungkook has learned.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Jimin says. “Want one?”

Jungkook shrugs. He can’t decide whether he does, if he wants to prolong this weird reality they’ve built for themselves. Jimin gives him mixed feelings, but the alcohol is doing wonders to help him forget.

“I’ll get you one,” Jimin tells him.

He comes back with a tray of shots.

“No,” Jungkook says immediately.

“They’re kamikazes. They’re, like, ten percent alcoholic or something. Do ‘em with me.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Jimin hesitates, hand curled around one of the shot glasses. “No,” he says after a moment. “You can say no.”

Something in his voice tells Jungkook that’s not all he wants to say, but he doesn’t know Jimin well enough to guess what else might be on his mind. They both fall silent as a result, staring at each other as the space between them gnaws at them.

Jimin’s the one who moves first, downing one shot and then another and another, until there are only two left. Without looking up, he pushes one of them towards Jungkook’s side of the table, and then he lifts the other, about to bring it to his lips.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, scrambling for the other glass. “Cheers?”

Their glasses clink, and they down their shots at the same time.

“I think it’s my turn,” Jungkook says, unsure why he’s continuing with the game. He should call it a night. He’s tired and the room is starting to spin.

Jimin gestures for him to go on. “Please. Tell me more about yourself.”

“I like beaches.” Jungkook decides it’s probably best they don’t get too deep. He doesn’t want to hear about Jimin’s heartbreaks or the fact it’s been years since he dated anyone. He doesn’t really want to get to know him, because what would that mean for all the months they spent fighting?

“Me too,” Jimin tells him. “I grew up in Busan so I went to the beach a lot.”

Jungkook processes this but fails to tell Jimin he grew up in Busan too. It feels like so long ago now, even though he only left the city a year ago to come to Seoul. Sometimes he’s not sure what he’s doing here.

His thoughts are going down dangerous roads.

“I like singing.”

Another sketchy road, but Jungkook blurts it out and can’t take it back.

“I didn’t know that,” Jimin says.

“Wasn’t that the point of this exercise? To get to know me?” Jungkook thinks he might sound meaner than he intended.

Jimin’s fingernail knocks softly against one of the many empty glasses on the table. “Thought it was just to pass the time.”

The undertone is clear: I don’t really care about getting to know you.

Jungkook turns to look at the bar. “I need another drink.”

They’re drinking whiskey again, right back where they started. Jimin gulps his like it’s water while Jungkook is more interested in playing with the glass in his hand. He’s reaching a tipping point, he thinks.

He can’t drink anymore after this.

They exchange a few more tidbits about each other, mostly mundane facts that don’t really go anywhere. Jungkook is getting the sense that Jimin is starting to regret coming over.

See, that’s the thing about latching onto dreams or promises. When Jimin sat down, Jungkook couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he might actually get the wish he wrote about in his notebook.

Maybe we can be friends.

But all this night has shown him is that beneath all the arguments, there was never anything there.

Neither of them want to be here.

That much is obvious.

Jimin chugs the rest of his drink, frowning into the empty glass before glancing at the door. He’s going to leave. Jungkook knows it. He’s going to leave like he did that night, even though he loved that place. It was a dig against him, because Jimin’s selfish; he’s petty.

He wanted to win, make Jungkook take the blame, weigh him down with guilt.

In Jungkook’s story of self pity, Jimin is the enemy.

So he doesn’t know why he says it.

“Stay.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker back to his, the slightest bit of vulnerability coming through. “I… I should—”

“Don’t leave me.”

Jungkook doesn’t know—if he’s asking because he likes Jimin’s company or he just doesn’t want to be alone.

Maybe it’s both.

It could be both.

He wants it to be both.

“Cheer up, dude,” Jimin finally says, kicking his shin under the table again, barely meeting his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s relief is nearly overwhelming. He covers it up by kicking Jimin back, though it’s less a kick and more a… caress. “Don’t call me ‘dude’. It sounds weird.”

“You sound weird.”

“What are you, twelve?”

This time Jimin’s the one who caresses his leg, boot dragging down his calf. “You must have run out of comebacks. You’ve used that one on me before.”

“Well I’m drunk. I have an excuse. What’s yours?”

“My excuse for what?”

“Sucking so bad.”

“I suck pretty good, actually.”

Jungkook is suddenly hyper aware of their legs touching. “Say that again?”

“I said,” Jimin says, leaning towards him. “I suck pretty good. What? Are you curious to find out how good?”

Jungkook drops his head into his palms, heart picking up speed. “You’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And you’re fucking stubborn.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Jimin nudges his leg again.

“I live just down the road.”

Jungkook looks up. The whole point of this was for a distraction, wasn’t it? Or was it to get to know each other?

No. It was to pass the time.

“What do you want to do, Jungkook?”

He wants to pass the time.

He wants to pass the time with Jimin.

And maybe he wants to know—what his life would have looked like if he had let Jimin perform that night. If he could have become someone else in those eyes, and they could have met in a place like this and shared memories that were real.

“I want to see your place,” Jungkook says.

Jimin gives him a shit eating grin like he’s won some kind of game. “Yeah. I bet you do.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jimin should never have approached Jungkook. They were too different and every stilted sentence that left each of their mouths proved it.

Yet for some reason, he doesn’t put a stop to any of this, not when Jungkook says he wants to come over, not when he inserts a key into his door, not when they shuffle their shoes off, and certainly not when they kiss.

It’s dark. It’s dark in this room and it’s dark in Jimin’s heart and he supposes that’s why he’s doing this.

Because the entire night has been a disappointment and he wants to end on a win.

So he lets the night consume him, lets every touch and every kiss burn themselves into his memory until he can’t think of anything else. Tells himself it’s just because he’s drunk that Jungkook’s kisses taste sweet, that his hands feel good, because none of it is real.

Because he hates him.

He hates him, hates him, hates him, but tonight he’s all Jimin can think of. He’s everything to him tonight, when they strip and move to his bed—everything, when they reach the height of ecstasy and pleasure overwhelms.

For one night, Jungkook is everything.

Jimin wishes the night would never end.

The morning sees rain hammering down on the roof. It’s an old building and Jimin lives on the top floor so it wakes him up. He’s usually a heavy sleeper; working late nights means his entire schedule is shifted so he never begins his day till noon.

But it’s barely 8am when his eyes open.

It must be from all that alcohol. He doesn’t know how much he drank, but he does know that he severely regrets it. His bladder feels heavy and his bed feels too warm. With a grunt, he shoves the sheets aside, only to come into contact with a lump that shouldn’t be there.

Snapping to the side, he’s greeted with overgrown hair and a half naked body, that face the face of Jimin’s nightmares.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Last night is coming back to him.

Inviting Jungkook over. Entangling in the sheets. Letting him spend the night.

Staggering out of bed, he rushes to the bathroom and shuts the door. He’s well and fully sober now, and also wide awake. Jungkook is in his bedroom sleeping soundly like he hasn’t metaphorically stabbed Jimin in the chest over and over.

Why the fuck did he say that last night? What was he thinking?

I live just down the road.

Shit.

Jimin glances at his reflection. He looks like shit too, makeup smeared and hair a tousled mess. But it’s nothing to how he feels on the inside, regret brewing in his gut. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

Gasping, he hangs his head over the toilet bowl, breathing in and out as he tries to let the feeling pass. Last night… Last night, he just wanted an escape from real life. That’s all that was. Hang out with the man who made him hate himself even more like the masochist he was.

The nausea fades a little. He empties his bladder, washes his face, runs wet hands through his hair.

Laughs.

He has to laugh, because this is a joke; the world is playing jokes on him.

When he exits the bathroom, Jungkook is still sleeping. Jimin decides the only thing he can do right now is ignore him, so he leaves the bedroom and sets about finding a recipe to counter his oncoming headache. Truth is, the best cure is more sleep, but there’s no way he’s getting back in that bed with Jungkook in it.

After depleting a glass of water, he settles on the couch, turning on the television with the volume low, subtitles on, but not really watching. A part of him longs for someone to tell him it’s okay. Longs for comfort from his brother, or his friends.

But a bigger part is embarrassed.

Wants to keep everything that happened here a secret because the thought of anyone knowing what he’s done, with someone he hates— no, it’s the thought of anyone knowing he enjoyed it. That’s what scares him the most.

He must fall asleep at some point because he startles when his bedroom door creaks open. Rubbing his eyes, he turns around to see Jungkook dressed in last night’s clothes, looking a little worse for wear.

“I used your bathroom,” Jungkook informs him. “Hope that’s okay.”

Hearing that voice makes heat bloom in Jimin’s belly. He hates him. “Whatever.”

“Can I have some water?”

“There’s a clean glass by the sink.”

Jimin doesn’t offer to get it for him. He doesn’t want to talk to him anymore, or prolong whatever this is. Their brief attraction has come and gone like a gust of wind, leaving nothing in its wake. It’s time to let time do its thing and let this become nothing but a distant memory, to be forgotten.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says after gulping down a glass. He sets it on the kitchen counter and clears his throat. Jimin won’t look at him, eyes fixed on the television. “About last night…”

“You should go.” Jimin fiddles with the remote that’s lying on the couch beside him, toggling a button one way and then the other without actually pressing down. The show plays on but he doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“I wanted to say—”

“I don’t want to do this. Please.”

“Do… what?”

“Pretend that this meant anything.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, and Jimin hates that now he feels bad. But it’s true, isn’t it? There’s nothing but bad blood between them and pretending otherwise is a fool’s errand. He just wants this nightmare to be over.

“I have so much I could fucking say right now.” Jimin should stop talking because he didn’t want to spend the day angry, but now that the chance is here, he can’t help himself. “You’re an asshole. I loved that place. I loved it and then you had to come along and make it a living hell.”

Still no response, like Jungkook isn’t even there. He may as well be talking to an empty room.

“I hate you.” He’s never said that to anyone before. But maybe because he’s not looking at Jungkook’s face, that makes it easier to say. “And I fucking hate myself for sleeping with you. So just get out. I never wanna see you again.”

It’s not long before Jungkook’s footsteps are stalking past the couch, his face hidden from view as he grabs the doorknob. A part of Jimin wishes he would turn around and say something back like he always did, something like, It was the worst night of my life or I hate you too.

That would make it easier, give Jimin the validation he craves for this hatred that’s been rooted inside him for months.

But Jungkook just turns the doorknob, steps out, and lets the door close behind him. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t say a word. Just walks out of there like that gust of wind Jimin likened their attraction to.

That’s it?

That’s… it?

Jimin sits up, bare feet touching the floor as he almost rushes to the door to call out for him. That’s it?! He wants to shout it into the hallway, dig metaphorical fingers into Jungkook’s arms and demand he yell something back, to act all ticked off at Jimin’s antics just so he can feel alive again.

But Jimin just sits there, those footsteps fading to nothing, already gone.

He sits there for who knows how long, the seconds ticking by, turning into minutes, and then—

And then he spots a familiar looking notebook on the table. It’s got a plain black cover, a simple strap around it to keep it closed. Scrambling forward, Jimin snatches it up and races to the door.

It’s not that he wants to see Jungkook. It’s not that he even likes him, or that he wants a chance to apologise and get rid of the guilt suddenly weighing him down. It’s just that the notebook doesn’t belong to him, it belongs to Jungkook, and it’s the right thing to do, giving it back.

Jimin runs down four flights of stairs and looks in every direction as rain drizzles down and cars and buses whizz past on the roads. People nearly bump into him trying to get by on the sidewalk, umbrellas in hand. It’s a work day, rush hour. Everyone has somewhere to be.

All Jimin sees are strangers.

Clutching the notebook, he steps back into the stairwell that leads upstairs. He could keep trying to look for him, take a guess as to where he might have gone even though he knows close to nothing about him.

Instead he shakes himself and heads back upstairs.

Whatever.

What’s so important about a notebook anyway? If Jungkook really wants it back, he’ll just come and get it.

Jimin climbs the stairs, fidgety hands playing with the strap on the cover. He looks at the clean edges, almost like the notebook is unused. Why did Jungkook have it with him anyway? He didn’t have a pen with him, didn’t seem to be doing any note taking in that bar.

Come to think of it, Jimin thinks he may have seen this notebook before, hanging around the desk Jungkook used in his office.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he undoes the strap, flipping to the first page.

His name is the first thing he sees.

Park Jimin, pretty, amazing dancer, maybe we can be friends.

Jimin comes to a stop, reading it again. There are other names there, of the other dancers and the people who worked at the bar, the bouncers. But Jimin barely sees them, just stares at Jungkook’s words and wonders if they meant something to him at the time—wonders why it is that Jungkook’s little dream never came true.

He tries to think back to their first meeting, but try as he might, he can’t remember it. All he remembers is the way Jungkook immediately annoyed him, his straight laced attitude ticking him off. He couldn’t just have a conversation; it always had to be tied up in whatever managerial duty he had to do.

Like Jimin was just a product and Jungkook was the one selling him.

He shuts the notebook, angry that all the words do is make him feel sorry for the guy, make him feel guilty for what he said when all poor Jungkook wanted was to be friends.

When he reaches his apartment, he hurtles the notebook across the room, watching as it hits the wall and splays flat on the floor, some of the pages crumpling.

A few seconds later, he’s cradling it in his arms, wishing he cared less so that something as little as this wouldn’t make him cry.

Though Jimin has a shift tonight, he still goes out of his way to drive to Sijaghida. Once he’s there, he heads in through the back door, surprising some of the staff already there who recognise him.

He doesn’t want to see Jungkook, so he finds a friendly, familiar face and goes up to them. It’s Binna, who squeals when she sees him and gives him a massive hug. Jimin returns it halfheartedly.

“Are you back? For real?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue— no.

But she rambles over him. “You must have heard he’s gone. Did Daesung contact you? Wait, are you the reason he was fired?”

“He— What?” Jimin blinks a few times, completely taken aback.

Binna’s smile falters. “Oh. Did you not know?”

“Jungkook’s been fired?”

“Yeah, yesterday. Daesung told him to get his stuff and get out. It was awesome.” Binna frowns when Jimin doesn’t share in her dislike for Jungkook; a dislike that Jimin always thought was his and his alone. “Wait, if you’re not here because of that, then why are you here?”

Jimin steps back, his heart pounding. It doesn’t even matter. It doesn’t, so why does it feel like this place is trying to swallow him whole? Why does he feel so fucking guilty over something that’s not even his fault? Why does he hate the fact that others might not have liked him either, as if that somehow makes what they had not special?

“I…” He came here for Jungkook, to return this, because it had to mean something, didn’t it, if he kept it all this time? The whole night, he wouldn’t let it go, would keep looking down at it while they were talking. “I was just passing by and wanted to say hello.”

Jimin can’t be here anymore. Before Binna can say anything, he backtracks the way he came, goes straight to his motorbike and fires it to life. And then he rides off into the night, wishing last night would leave his mind like that gust of wind, instead of burying itself so deep inside him, he can’t see anything else.

It’s just him, and just Jungkook, together in that little bubble they built outside reality, holding on like tomorrow didn’t exist.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jungkook’s bin is full and there are empty ramen packets scattered all over the floor. Everyday he walks into the kitchen and walks right back out, deciding to spend yet another day in bed with the television on and his blanket pulled up to his chin.

He’s no stranger to feeling sorry for himself, but this is feeling sorry for himself times a thousand. The cure would be to get out of the house and do something, but there’s not a single part of him that feels like he can.

The world is too big and scary, and he too cowardly, to face it.

So for weeks on end, he gets stuck in this cycle. When he runs out of food in the fridge, he orders in—groceries, meals, everything. It’s at the tip of his fingers, so long as the electricity keeps running and he keeps his phone charged. He doesn’t need anything else. He can pass the days like this, alone.

jin hyung

Let’s hang out.

But that’s the thing about keeping his phone charged, Jungkook thinks when the text comes in from a well meaning friend. It means he’s still connected to the outside world, and he doesn’t want to be.

jin hyung 

There’s a bar I wanted to take you to

Let’s go tonight?

Havent seen you in a while

I’m actually nearby

Wanna get dinner together first?

Jungkook turns on airplane mode to stop the inflow of messages, then flips his phone around and tosses it somewhere on the other side of the bed. He’s invested in his show anyway. He’s binged quite a few of them now that he has all this time. He doesn’t want these moments of peace to come to an end.

He should know by now—he’s not the kind to get what he wants.

He doesn’t even hear the front door open. Honestly it’s his own fault for giving Seokjin a spare key. When his friend pushes the bedroom door open and peeks his head inside, Jungkook regrets everything. They haven’t seen each other in weeks, Seokjin often travelling for his job, and up until a few weeks ago, Jungkook’s been busy most evenings.

“Did a hurricane blow through?” Seokjin asks.

They became friends because when Jungkook was younger, his parents would sometimes bring him to Seoul, and he met Seokjin at some youth event they made him go to. They kept in contact all these years. Now Seokjin’s his closest friend, the only one who bothered to stick around, but even then sometimes it feels like Jungkook’s skating on thin ice.

He now grabs the edges of the blanket and pulls it over his head, snuggling deeper into the bed. He should just let Seokjin pull him out of this rut—it wouldn’t be the first time—but to be honest, he’s stubborn and it’s comfortable in here. He doesn’t have to do a thing, doesn’t have to please anyone, he can just exist.

“Jungkookie, what’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice sounds closer.

Why does it sound closer?

Suddenly, the blanket is snatched off his head—off his entire body, in fact. Jungkook yells, “stop!” but Seokjin drags the blanket until it’s entirely off the bed, exposing his comfort clothes—a pair of baggy sweatpants with tuna prints all over and an oversized hoodie he bought at a souvenir shop at Seoul Tower when he first moved to the city.

“My messages stopped going through,” Seokjin says. He looks Jungkook up and down. “I can tell something happened. Why didn’t you text me that something happened?”

“I don’t like texting,” Jungkook says with a pout, pulling his knees up to his chest. His toes are exposed now and he didn’t have a chance to turn on the heating today, so it’s chilly. “Can I have my blanket back?”

“Not until you tell me what this is. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

“When was the last time you took out the trash?”

Jungkook presses his lips together.

“You hate it when the trash builds up,” Seokjin tells him, as if Jungkook doesn’t know himself well enough to already know that. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t actually help anything, you know.”

“I don’t want help,” Jungkook says petulantly. “I want my blanket back.”

“How about this. If I give you the blanket back, will you tell me why you’re wearing the most unflattering sweatpants known to man?”

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “You bought these for me!”

“As a joke!

“They’re comfortable.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Okay. If you say so. Trade? Blanket for story?”

Jungkook grumbles a bit under his breath, but now that Seokjin is here in the flesh, he can feel himself wanting to give in. So he just nods. “Fine. But first I want to finish this episode, and you have to watch it with me.”

Seokjin agrees pretty quickly. He climbs into the bed with the blanket and snuggles next to Jungkook, asking enough questions about the characters during the show that Jungkook doesn’t really get to passively enjoy it like he has been.

But it’s nice—to talk to someone again.

“Honestly, Jungkook, what have you been doing? How long have you been like this? Who do I have to kill?” Seokjin asks as the credits roll on the screen.

Jungkook hits pause on the remote. “I got fired.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause while Seokjin processes this. He’s not always one for words of wisdom. He takes things in stride. When bad things happen, he doesn’t think about it for too long, just reflects and moves on. But it’s different for Jungkook. With a sigh, Seokjin reaches out to pat Jungkook on the leg. “It’s a good thing, maybe? You didn’t like the job all that much anyway.”

“Yeah but—” Jungkook takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I was just tossed out. I found out no one even liked me there. I feel like…”

It’s not an easy thing to explain, this feeling like he’s just taking up space, like no one wants him around because he’s just— him. And he’s never been able to find an answer as to what it is people find repulsive, if it’s the way he looks or how he acts or something else entirely.

“I feel like I let a lot of people down.” His parents, for one, who he had to inform about what happened only because Daesung is their friend, and he didn’t want to be the cause of bad blood between them. All the dancers there, who he never made sure felt appreciated. Seokjin, who’s always rooting for him.

Himself.

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t love the job. When his parents’ restaurant started to pick up again and they didn’t need him as much anymore, he decided to move to Seoul to start again. It was a fresh start and he blew it. In a few months, he would run out of savings to pay rent and he’d be right back where he started.

He thought, coming here, being here, maybe he would meet people like himself. Maybe he would feel like pursuing things he thought he’d left behind. But he screwed up every interaction he had, somehow never quite able to connect. He could always feel a stark difference between him and others. He blamed his parents. He blamed himself for staying behind and losing the will to dream.

Not just that. He doesn’t know how to dream anymore, because he’s always been terrified that something will take it away from him. Something will happen, and every spare thread of hope he rebuilt would be torn to shreds once more.

He doesn’t want to go through that again.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” Seokjin says now. “Okay? Sometimes shit things happen. Your boss sounded like an asshole anyway.”

Jungkook sniffs. “Apparently, I’m the asshole.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can’t do anything right.”

“That’s just not true. What’s right or wrong anyway?”

Jungkook isn’t in the mood to have a philosophical talk. He just wants to vent. So he says, “One of the dancers at the club called me that like it was my name. He was so— so fucking irritating.”

Seokjin looks like he might burst out laughing any second, not used to Jungkook’s outburst of rage. “Okay.”

“No, hyung, I’m serious.” Jungkook sits up, fired up now that he’s thinking about him. “If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have been fired. He was such a child, always trying to change the roster around and talking about rivalries and just— I tried to explain that I couldn’t just cater to his every need, there were other dancers to deal with but he just— God, I fucking hate him.”

“Another reason it’s probably a good thing you’re not working there anymore.”

“No, because he quit,” Jungkook says. It’s ridiculous, the more he thinks about it. “I wouldn’t let him perform one night and he fucking quit, went behind my back to complain to Bossman and I was left with a warning that may as well have been the notice for my being fired when he tossed me out a couple months later. Told me to grab my things and get out. Because of one dancer.”

“That’s kind of shitty.”

“And the thing is, I would have let him perform if he hadn’t been on stage almost every night that week. But we have a rule not to overwork the dancers. I was just doing my job and somehow that’s my fault?”

“I won’t pretend to know what it’s like to work in a place like that, but it seems to me your boss was probably looking for someone to blame and took it out on you. Again, not a great environment to work in. You need to look at the bright side.”

Jungkook is too stuck on Jimin to process much of what Seokjin is saying. “Do you know what the most frustrating thing is? I…” He’s never admitted this to anyone, much less himself. “I actually enjoyed arguing with him. Like, he paid attention to me and I just… it was better than the others who didn’t seem to care that I was there.”

Seokjin is speechless for a second; Jungkook thinks he said too much.

“Aish, Jungkook, did you have a crush on this guy?”

Jungkook sputters. “O- Of course not.”

“Jungkook.”

“I was just doing my job, hyung.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it. Jungkook keeps going, reeling from the idea of a crush.

“I guess doing my job was too much for him because he just up and left one day. He left and never came back. I don’t even care that I was fired. I just wish I knew what I could have done differently, because he… he makes me think I really hurt him. Like I really am an asshole, and maybe I am. Maybe I suck and that’s why nothing ever works out.”

Seokjin nudges him. “Stop that. You don’t suck. You’re not an asshole. Young, sure, a little immature, maybe, but not an asshole.”

Jungkook sucks his lips into his mouth, teeth gnawing on them a little. “I slept with him,” he confesses.

Seokjin reacts about the way he would expect. He jumps and turns towards him with wide eyes and says, “Wh— You— You slept with dancer dude?”

“It just happened. We were drunk.”

“Okay, so, details then? Was this before he quit?”

Jungkook doesn’t give every detail, but he reveals enough for Seokjin to have a fairly accurate timeline of how things went down.

“Do you know what sucks the most?” Jungkook says after. “I was going to apologise that morning. Just try to clear the air between us a bit, even if I knew we might never see each other again. But he just…”

That morning was the worst. Hungover and sleep deprived, to hear Jimin say those words to him had been a nail in the coffin. He would have fought back if he hadn’t already been crying. Getting out of there had been the only thing on his mind.

Jungkook presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, unable to go on.

“To think this all happened while I was away,” Seokjin says, rubbing his back. His job often has him flying out of the city, meeting clients and investors. Jungkook’s sort of glad he wasn’t around to witness it all, to be honest.

That night is burned into Jungkook’s memory. It doesn’t matter how drunk he was, he couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, forget the way Jimin pulled him close and whispered in his ear, asking if this was okay, if he wanted this, Do you want this? With me? Even though you hate me?

Jungkook should have said, I don’t.

I don’t hate you.

Instead he just said, yes.

“I’m sorry, Kookie. I’m sorry it’s so hard.”

Jungkook sniffs harshly; it feels like something ugly is trying to claw its way out of his chest. “He’s… He’s not even worth it,” Jungkook says, trying to get a hold of himself. “He’s not. I- I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

Seokjin is good at just being there. He doesn’t force him to get over it, nor does he try to get him to talk about it anymore. After Jungkook is all cried out, he just says, “Should we get you some real food?”

“Are you saying ramen’s not real food?”

“Yeah.”

Well then. “Okay.”

“We can hit up that bar I mentioned after if you’d like.”

“Last time I got drunk, I ended up sleeping with my enemy.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. You don’t have to drink. I think you’ll like this place. A friend of mine works there. We can check it out, and if you hate it after five minutes, we can leave.”

“Maybe.”

Seokjin ruffles his hair. “Chin up. You’ll feel better soon.”

The thing is, Jungkook knows Seokjin’s right.

So he gets out of bed, takes a shower, dresses in something semi nice and takes his first step out the door in weeks. He and Seokjin end up at a restaurant just below his apartment, and as they eat, Jungkook thinks how he feels more normal than he has in ages.

If he knew that getting out of the house was all he needed, maybe he would have done it ages ago.

By the time they’re finished eating, Jungkook actually wants to go to this mysterious bar Seokjin’s been talking about. So they hop in a cab and ride the fifteen minutes it takes to get there. Seokjin greets a dimpled man out front like they’re old friends, which it turns out they are, seeing as Jungkook finds himself being introduced before they head in. Turns out Seokjin and Namjoon are good friends from way back but reconnected recently.

He seems nice, but Jungkook doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to him. There’s a line to get in and Namjoon’s working, so Seokjin says they’ll catch up later and hauls Jungkook into the bar by the shoulder.

It’s pretty clear almost right away that this isn’t a normal bar. For one, there’s a stage in the centre, a pole going from floor to roof. The room is bathed in bluish light, the cool tones a stark difference to what Jungkook was used to in Sijaghida.

That doesn’t mean he can’t see the similarities of the two places. Seokjin knew the kind of place he worked in, right? Even if he never dropped by? Even if Jungkook never talked much about it?

Jungkook shakes himself. So what? So what if this place is similar? It’s not the same. Seokjin doesn’t have any other angle, not the way he’s chatting up the bartender (or is it the other way around?). Even that doesn’t last long. Jungkook can feel that Seokjin is really just trying to cheer him up, especially when, after getting some drinks, he steers him to a seat near the stage.

“I know you worked with a monster of a dancer before, but you’ll love these ones,” Seokjin tells him.

For some reason, Jungkook chooses to believe him.

If love and hate were the same word, perhaps then Jungkook could have even gone as far to say that Seokjin was right.

Because the third dancer who takes the stage sometime later is exactly the monster of a dancer Seokjin just mentioned. He’s everything Jungkook hates and everything that he loves all wrapped into one tight package.

Park Jimin.

Jungkook sits frozen, transported back to all those nights he watched him. To the very first night he saw him perform. He had just walked in on his first day, and one of the dancers was on the pole already, even before opening time, practising for his performance later on.

He was breathtaking, blond at the time, but it never mattered what colour hair he had, it didn’t take away from his beauty. Every movement was graceful but there was strength to it, just like there is now, as Jimin twirls himself expertly, him and the pole a single entity, and Jungkook the lucky spectator, taking all of it in.

His heart is in his throat right now. Flashes of that night are with him too, the way they moved together, like Jungkook was the pole and Jimin the dancer. Not just that, the conversation they had lives in there too, as well as every interaction before that, heated and ugly.

That was them. Heated and ugly and real. Somehow it was real, whether they were sparring words to get a reaction out of each other, whether Jungkook was desperately trying to make Jimin smile.

It has to be real, because his heart is pounding in his chest and Jimin makes him feel so much, so alive. As if he can do anything, and be anything, because watching someone defy gravity like that as if free of earth’s tethers can’t be anything but inspiring.

Jungkook is jealous.

He’s so, so jealous.

He wonders if he’ll ever feel like that one day, like he went after what he wanted and did everything he wanted to do. Would he feel fulfilled, and would regret be some forgotten thing he left behind in lieu of dreams?

Jimin makes it look so easy. If Jungkook tried to do what he wanted instead of what he thought he should, would it be easy too? Jungkook ponders this as Jimin dances, completely captivated.

When Jimin finishes his set, Jungkook’s lips part. “So beautiful,” he whispers.

Only Seokjin hears, glancing at him with a smile. “He’s good, isn’t he? He was here the last time I came too. I think his name is Jimin.”

Seokjin really doesn’t know, does he? Jungkook could laugh, and he wants to, is about to, when Jimin bows, looks up and sees him. Jungkook can almost hear his breath catching, surprise flickering across those pretty features. His footsteps to leave falter, time seeming to slow to a stop.

It’s just them two, like it was in that booth at that bar, like it was in Jimin’s room before the morning and the rain came to tear them apart.

A moment later, Jimin blinks, lips pressing together. The spell breaks. Now there’s a small frown dotting Jimin’s forehead, one that Jungkook is no longer privy to when Jimin turns and walks away, disappearing from view.

“What was that?” Seokjin asks.

Jungkook is too busy staring at the spot where Jimin was just standing.

“You know him? You look like you know him. He looked like he knew you.”

What is Jungkook supposed to say?

“Wait a second.” Seokjin’s eyes go wide. “Namjoon said something about Jimin being sort of new here. Is he dancer dude?”

Jungkook stands, wondering if he wants to go to Jimin or get out.

Thinks a split second later that he wants to get out. What did Jimin say to him when he last saw him?

I hate you. And I fucking hate myself for sleeping with you. So just get out. I never wanna see you again.

Jungkook can’t just forget something like that.

Mumbling something about needing air to Seokjin, he escapes the blue lights of the room, passing Namjoon on the way out but barely paying him a second glance. He walks along the block and stops before the street, dropping onto the curb.

It’s just like that night he got fired. He wishes he had stayed moping in his room. It was better than the tightness in his chest, better than seeing that face again, the one he found himself dreaming about from time to time, confused because he could never conclude whether Jimin was a dream or a nightmare.

The scuff of boots shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he supposes he hadn’t expected that anyone would care enough to check on him, much less that they might be Jimin of all people.

Jungkook doesn’t dare look up.

I never wanna see you again.

Yeah, well, he never wants to see Jimin again either.

“What the hell were you doing in my bar?”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The words hang in the air for a moment, balanced perfectly between what could be a civil reunion or a display of aggression. Though the words themselves are harsh, Jimin spoke with a friendly tone, an open invitation to banter. He came all the way out here, after all, even though he could be inside chatting to Taehyung or Hoseok.

When Jungkook opens his mouth, barely looking his way, he already knows which way this is going to go.

“I didn’t get to say it before, but I hate you too. I really fucking hate you.”

Jimin isn’t about to lie to himself… hearing those words from Jungkook’s mouth hurts.

“God,” Jungkook continues, leaning back on his arms. “It feels good to say that.”

Jimin feels like the loser in a game he didn’t know they were playing. Crossing his arms, he retorts, “I said it first.”

Jungkook laughs snarkily. “Do you want a trophy for that?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Why the hell are you here?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Jungkook looks up then. His hair is a little longer, some of it covering his eyes, reaching the back of his shirt. He never let it get this long before. Jimin has no idea why he notices that.

Jimin sucks his lips into his mouth. “Were you looking for me?”

He hates the mocking smile Jungkook gives him. “Are you hoping I’ll say yes?”

“It’s creepy to think you might be following me,” Jimin barks back, even while his heart wilts because this Jungkook… this mean, sarcastic Jungkook is much harder to handle than the annoying one from Sijaghida, and the sad one from the other night.

This one says he hates him, and for the first time, Jimin thinks it might be true.

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells him. “You’re the one who followed me out here. My friend dragged me here. If I knew you worked here, I wouldn’t have come.”

Why does that hurt too?

“Well you ran away so fast after seeing me, I figured I should check on you,” Jimin says. It lacks the fire he wants to express in his voice. He kicks at the ground, annoyed at himself. “Excuse me for being a good person.”

Jungkook laughs again, looking him up and down. “Wow. The levels of delusion there are just…”

“Just what?” Jimin taunts. “If you want to mock me, at least do it properly.”

“You’re not worth it.”

Jimin scoffs. Even though he’s standing and Jungkook’s sitting, it still feels like Jungkook’s looking down on him. It’s the same feeling he used to get when they both worked at that bar. Jungkook was always belittling him, ignoring or countering every one of his pleas and suggestions.

The thing Jimin hates the most is the fact he feels like he can’t speak his mind. If he says the real reason he came out here, he knows Jungkook will just hold it against him, call him soft or weak because he couldn’t even stick to those words he said to him the morning after.

I never wanna see you again.

No. Jimin had weeks to think about it, and he realised he wanted to—to see Jungkook and kiss him and touch him just to see if whatever they shared that night was real.

The way he thinks about that night contradicts every emotion he’s had when talking to Jungkook, as if he’s two different people. And maybe Jimin is also two different people, because he was different that night too, wasn’t he?

That night, he wanted to cherish Jungkook.

Today, he wants to murder him.

Maybe it was the alcohol. He doesn’t want it to be that; the memories are too soft and precious for him to want to attribute it to that alone.

But maybe it was.

Jimin kicks the sole of his foot against the ground again. “You don’t have to hide out here, you know.”

Jungkook starts to frown.

Jimin wants to retract every word. “I’m just saying. You left because you saw me, didn’t you? But you don’t have to run away like some loser. You can just go hang out with your friend. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all if you’d just stayed there and pretended to be normal for once.”

“You really have a way with words.”

“Whatever.” Jimin starts to turn around, then thinks better of it, deciding to add, “Asshole.”

He stalks back to the bar in a bad mood, uncaring if Jungkook comes back. He just wants a drink now. His shift is over and Taehyung is working; maybe he’ll flirt with him again and help him get his mind off things.

But when he gets to the bar counter, he sees that there won’t be much chance for that tonight, because Hoseok is there and he’s laughing at something Taehyung just said and the two of them are… Well, they’re a match made in heaven, Jimin thinks.

The way Taehyung looks at Hoseok all fond is different than the looks he gives everyone else. There’s something real there.

Jimin wonders if Jungkook has ever looked at anyone like that.

He wonders if he has when Jimin wasn’t looking.

That’s gotta be the most idiotic thing Jimin has ever thought. What is wrong with him? He erases the thought by ordering a gin and tonic, staring at the bar’s countertop in an almost-trance until the sound of a stool being dragged beside him brings his attention back to the present.

“I’m not a loser,” Jungkook says.

God. Jimin rolls his eyes. Usually after performing, he floats on a high for hours but Jungkook’s blown that to bits with his presence.

“I’ll believe that when you stop acting like one,” Jimin tells him, not even bothering to look over.

“What is your problem?”

“You’re my problem, asshole.”

“You’re the asshole, asshole.”

Jimin barks out an unamused laugh. “Good one.”

“Seriously.” Jungkook’s looking at him, but Jimin refuses to give in and return that gaze. “You’ve been rude to me from day one of us meeting. Does it make you feel good to belittle other people?”

Jimin can’t believe this. Screw feeling sorry for the guy and screw any ounce of care the words in Jungkook’s notebook might have created, he fucking hates his guts. He can’t believe he almost let himself forget what he’s actually like in person.

“Look who’s talking,” Jimin sneers, snapping his head towards Jungkook. “As if you weren’t putting me down every chance you got.”

“When the hell did I ever do that?”

“Would you like me to list it out for you?” Jimin lifts a hand, sticking out his thumb. “The time I asked for five extra minutes for my set and you told me I wasn’t allowed.” Adds his forefinger. “The time I wanted to help another dancer out with a combined set and you slammed the door in my face.” Middle finger. “The time I had half a drink before a gig and you wouldn’t let me perform that day. Shall I go on?”

“Maybe if you’d just follow the rules for once, I wouldn’t have had to keep shutting you down.”

“You enjoy shutting me down, admit it. It gives you some kind of power trip.”

Jungkook laughs in disbelief. “You’re so fucking delusional.”

“Speak for yourself. Maybe we can be friends,” Jimin says before he can stop himself, feeling a sort of ugly satisfaction roll through him as Jungkook registers just what those words mean.

“Did you fucking read my notebook?”

“You fucking left it behind. Figured that was giving me permission.”

Jungkook scoffs. “What the hell is wrong with you? That was private. I want it back.”

“I don’t just have it on me all the time, asshole. If you really wanted it back, you should have come by and got it.”

“And see you again? I wanted to avoid that at all costs.”

Jimin grits his teeth, the malice striking somewhere in the pit of his belly. “‘Course you did. That’s why you’re here talking to me instead of hanging out with that guy you came with. What do you want with me?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?”

Jungkook stands pointedly. “I’m leaving. Fuck you.”

Jimin gives him the finger.

Once he’s gone—Jimin doesn’t look to see where he goes—he downs his drink and asks for another, surprised when he sees Taehyung there, an eyebrow raised as he points behind him.

“Who’s that?” he asks, already going to make Jimin his requested drink.

Jimin must be out of it tonight because he jumps when a hand touches his shoulder, Hoseok taking the empty seat beside him as he looks at Jimin with curiosity. “Well that guy’s a catch. Why’d he leave? We wanted to say hi.”

Trying to get a hold of himself, Jimin rolls his eyes. “He’s just some asshole. Is there a way to blacklist someone from this place?”

“If he harassed you, sure,” Hoseok tells him.

“Felt like harassment.” Jimin doesn’t say that it was though. He might hate Jungkook but he’s above lying to get him out of here. “Whatever. I just want to forget about him. What were you two giggling about over there anyway? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Hoseok immediately goes red. “N- No—”

“Of course not,” Taehyung says. “We were just talking.”

Jimin sees that Taehyung, on the other hand, is not above lying. “Okay, sure, if you say so.”

Taehyung sets his drink on the counter when it’s finished. “Honestly, who is he? Do I have competition for your hand in marriage? Do I need to sucker punch the guy in the face to get him to back off?”

The image of Taehyung sucker punching Jungkook makes Jimin laugh. “God, I’d love that. I mean, don’t. Probably shouldn’t be condoning violence in my future husband, you know?”

“Right, right, I will practise peace and harmony if it’s for you, my dear.”

Hoseok clears his throat. “So… that asshole?” Something in his voice makes Jimin frown, though he can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with it. “Are you going to tell us about him or should I just go over there and ask him myself?”

“His name’s Jungkook.” Jimin does have a repertoire of information that he could share, but he just shrugs. “That’s about all you have to know about him. He’s really not worth getting to know.”

“Where do you know him from?” Hoseok asks.

“My last job. He’s the reason I quit.”

“Oh.”

Jimin laughs bitterly. “Yeah. Anyway, he was fired soon after, so I guess that’s karma.”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Hoseok says.

Hearing those words from someone else’s lips doesn’t sit right with Jimin. He says some noncommittal thing like he’s agreeing and then turns back to his drink in silence. Taehyung has disappeared to serve another customer so it’s just him and Hoseok now.

“I don’t think we could blacklist him without proof that he did something to warrant it but I could ask him to leave,” Hoseok offers then. “I can be intimidating if I want to be.”

Jimin turns in his seat to look at Jungkook, who’s got this stupid grin on his face while he speaks to his friend. Their seats aren’t even facing the stage where someone is dancing since they’ve pulled them close together to talk, their knees practically touching, and just that in and of itself sends Jimin’s thoughts into a hateful spiral.

He imagines what Jungkook’s face will look like when he’s asked to leave and that decides it.

“Please,” Jimin begs. “I’d be very grateful.”

Hoseok gives him an angelic smile, as if he isn’t just about to intimidate someone out of this bar.

Jimin sits back to watch the show.

At least he has good friends.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jungkook shouldn’t be here. He thinks this as he climbs four flights of stairs, two steps at a time, a little tipsy after a night out with Seokjin. What happened just a few hours ago still has him raging.

The fucking audacity. The way he sat there with that satisfied smile. Who does he think he is?

Hey, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’ve made one of our dancers uncomfortable and it would be best you go without a fuss. Otherwise, you’ll have to be blacklisted from ever setting foot in here again.

Jimin put that other dancer up to it. Jungkook knows it.

Well fuck him, because Jungkook isn’t just going to just take it. No, that’s why he’s here, stalking up to Jimin’s door and pounding it with a fist. It’s 2am, a great time to be waking up one’s greatest enemy.

It takes a minute of pounding and shouts from the next door neighbour to shut up before Jimin finally gets the door, dressed in nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt. His hair sticks up and his eyes are bleary but this changes the moment he sees who’s at the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jimin says with a glare, then goes to shut the door in Jungkook’s face.

Jungkook goes back to pounding.

“What the fuck do you want!” Jimin yells, opening the door again. The same neighbour who shouted at Jungkook now shouts at Jimin with the same words, shut up, to which Jimin shouts right back, “How about you shut up?! God.”

“I’d hate living next to you too,” Jungkook says.

“I’ll shut this door in your face again. What do you want?”

“I want an apology.”

Jimin wears a look of disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“And I want my notebook back.”

“It’s two in the fucking morning!”

Jungkook is sick of just standing here and he’s sick of Jimin always trying to walk all over him, so he pushes his way into the apartment, causing a choked sound to leave Jimin’s lips.

“I didn’t invite you in, asshole.” Jimin trails after him on his heels, grabbing him by the shoulder none too gently. “This is my home. I want you to get out.”

Jungkook shakes him off. “Really? You didn’t seem to have a problem inviting me over last time.”

“And I told you, that was a mistake. Now get out.”

“No.”

Jungkook turns away from Jimin, heading for the coffee table in search of his notebook. If he can’t get an apology out of Jimin, at least he’ll have that back.

When he doesn’t find it there, he goes to the kitchen, opens drawers and rifles through shelves while Jimin protests and threatens to call the cops. Jungkook ignores him, too fired up.

He goes to Jimin’s bedroom.

“That’s it. I’m gonna do it,” Jimin says, right behind him. He races to block Jungkook from the bed with his body, but it’s too late. Jungkook has already spotted the notebook, sitting nice and neat on Jimin’s bedside table, illuminated by the light of a lamp right beside it, the strap undone.

“Oh?” Jungkook mocks, turning his eyes to Jimin’s face, which looks red despite the dim lighting. “You keep it next to you when you sleep?”

“I just happened to put it there. You need to get out of my home.”

“Is that really what you want?” Jungkook is crazy, crazy, crazy, because he’s staring at Jimin trying to look all defiant and all he can think about is the last time he was here. When their hands were all over each other’s bodies and everything went by too fast yet not fast enough.

“Of course it is.”

“Of course.”

A pin drop silence falls upon them.

Yeah.

Jungkook’s not doing a good job getting last time out of his mind. What he should do is get his notebook and leave, but it’s much too fun to rile Jimin up. After being kicked out of that bar, it’s what Jimin deserves anyway.

“Why did you come after me earlier?” Jungkook finds himself asking.

Jimin frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Jungkook shakes his head, taking in the dirty clothes on the floor. “Never mind. Your place is so messy. Figures you’re not the type to tidy up. I bet your parents tidied up for you when you were growing up.”

“Is that what we’re doing now? Making assumptions about each other?”

“Well I don’t know you, do I?” Jungkook says, bitter as he thinks about the night they got drunk together. What was he thinking, letting Jimin stay, indulging him?

Thought it was just to pass the time.

Those words sometimes haunt him, a reminder that everything he tries to hold onto will slip from his grasp eventually.

“No, you don’t,” Jimin agrees. “And I don’t know you and it’s better that way. So just get your notebook and go.”

Jungkook steps around Jimin, annoyed. This night isn’t going the way he wanted it to. He thought coming here, he could get back at him somehow, explain how much it fucking sucked to be tossed out of that place just like it sucked to be fired.

At the centre of it all was Jimin.

It’s always Jimin.

Notebook in hand, Jungkook heads towards the bedroom door, fully intending to leave when something occurs to him. He feels a sudden rush of excitement. It’s the same feeling he would get when he used to play games with friends and discovered the perfect move to win.

Jungkook stops in front of Jimin, who now stands with his back towards the door.

“You never apologised,” he says.

Jimin splays a hand flat on Jungkook’s chest, shoving him back a few steps. Maybe Jungkook was standing too close, but he holds his ground and repeats himself.

“You never apologised, Jimin.”

“I’m not going to apologise.”

“Then I won’t leave.”

Jimin scoffs. “You’re being childish.”

“It’s a simple request. You apologise, I leave. Why won’t you apologise?”

“Because you don’t deserve an apology.”

“But I do,” Jungkook argues. And he does truly believe this. “You made me leave that bar for petty reasons and you know it.”

“So what?”

“So I want an apology.”

Jimin is struggling. Jungkook can see it in the way he won’t look at him, weighing his options, Jungkook supposes. Is it pride that holds Jimin back? Or something else? Jungkook wants to know. He wants to unravel him and if that isn’t the scariest thought in the world, he doesn’t know what is.

Jimin opens his mouth. “I—”

Jungkook holds his breath.

“I hate you,” Jimin ends up saying. He splays his hand on Jungkook’s chest once more, but this time he doesn’t push him away. Instead, his fingers grab at the material of Jungkook’s shirt, pulling him close.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide; his mind is short circuiting.

“That wasn’t an apology,” he manages to say.

“I know that,” Jimin snaps, mere inches away. “Asshole,” he adds, before smothering his lips with a kiss.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Late nights and Jeon Jungkook are not a good combination. Jimin wants to cry when he wakes up the next morning and sees Jungkook in his bed again. His heart drops to his feet because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? Fuck.

He tosses the blanket aside, his feelings overwhelming. Every word they exchanged last night pricks at him now, and all he can think is stupid, stupid, stupid and that Jungkook needs to get out right now.

As such, he kicks out a leg, hitting Jungkook in the thigh. The man just shifts a bit but remains blissfully asleep. Harder, Jimin kicks him again, finally getting him to stir, lips smacking and eyes blinking as he registers where he is.

Before he can say anything, Jimin tells him, “Let’s not talk about it, okay? Last night was a mistake.”

Jungkook frowns, sitting up. He’s shirtless which just reminds Jimin that he was the one who ripped his clothes off of him the night before, tossing it to join the dirty laundry already there.

“I would really like it if you just left,” Jimin says as calmly as he can.

Jungkook brushes a hand through his hair wordlessly, then huffs and swings his legs off the bed. “I was just about to go.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Jimin is shirtless too, so he grabs the blanket and holds it to his chin while watching Jungkook stumble into his clothes.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Jungkook asks.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Jungkook shakes his head, shrugging into his jacket. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Who’s the asshole now?”

That just spurs Jimin to say, “Bye, asshole” loud and clear just before Jungkook slips out the door.

Good riddance.

Now. How does he go about trying to erase last night’s memories? It’s too early to drink. Maybe he can see if any of his friends want to hang out. Grabbing his phone, he shoots off a few texts then goes to get ready for the day, not letting his thoughts stray away from what’s happening right here, right now.

Namjoon is the first to text back.

Joonie (10:37am): Jimin ! Yeah I’m free ! Let’s get lunch together

Lunch it is. Jimin rides out to another part of the city and passes the day with Namjoon, eating good food, talking philosophy and crabs and nature, dropping into a museum nearby just because.

“What you said the other day about enjoying the little things,” Jimin says as they walk past all sorts of art, “I think I get it now.”

Namjoon gives him a dimpled smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Like this painting over here.” Jimin points at one nearby. It’s abstract and he has no idea what it means, but he thinks he needs that right now. “I love that we can just stand here and observe it and not care about anything else.”

“You know, you can tell me if it’s boring. I won’t judge you.”

“It’s not!” Jimin lets out a laugh. “It’s really not. I needed this today. I’m trying to thank you for this and for your words of wisdom or whatever you want to call them. Say you’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon says, then looks at the painting, expression softening. “So you get it.”

“I get it.”

They leave the museum shortly after that, deciding to go to a coffee shop nearby. Jimin offers to pay because he really is grateful, and then they sit across from one another. It’s a weekday and it’s not that busy right now so the chatter around them isn’t overwhelming. Jimin could just sit here and say nothing and he thinks he would be happy.

But Namjoon breaks the silence.

“You and Jungkook…”

Jimin stiffens.

“What’s going on there?”

It’s an innocent enough question. Jimin tries not to go on the defensive but last night is a passionate blur of memories and the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes and the worse he feels. “Nothing. Jungkook is… Jungkook.”

“I hear you worked with him.”

“Word travels fast around here huh.”

“I hear you two don’t really get along.”

“You should really think about a change in career. Gossipmonger sound good to you?”

Namjoon chuckles. He knows Jimin is joking (mostly). “Think messenger would suit me better. Kim Seokjin’s the gossipmonger.”

“Kim who?”

“Seokjin. Jungkook’s friend.”

“Friend. They’re friends?”

“Is that surprising?”

“Yeah,” Jimin answers, mulling over this new information. “Didn’t think my devil of an ex-manager had any friends, to be honest.”

“And I never pegged you for hateful.”

“Hey, he’s the one who made me quit a job I loved. If anyone’s hateful, it’s him.”

“What happened to enjoying the little things?”

“Nothing good lasts forever, hyung.”

They share a laugh. Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee, staring out the window. “I suppose it’s just one of those things. We don’t always get along with everyone we meet.”

It’s a good point, one that Jimin could agree with to move past this conversation, but somehow he finds himself saying, “It’s different with him.”

“How so?”

“Hard to explain. Something about him, you know? He gets on my nerves but there are moments… Like, I’ll feel sorry for him or just feel guilty even when I didn’t do anything wrong. And sometimes he seems kind of lost? But then he’ll open his mouth and remind me what an asshole he is.”

“So he’s like you,” Namjoon says.

Jimin stares, bewildered. “Excuse me? Do you feel sorry for me or guilty about something? Wait, do you think I’m an asshole?”

Namjoon is already talking over him. “No, no, god, Jimin, I meant— The part about being lost.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You think I’m lost?”

“You basically implied it when we talked before.”

“Hm.” Jimin purses his lips, then drops his chin on a palm. “Well, it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. Maybe I can learn to enjoy the feeling of being lost. It’s a part of the journey, isn’t it?”

“Sure, you can put it that way, or…”

Jimin was so sure Namjoon would agree with that one. Still, he’s always liked hearing the way Namjoon approaches life, so different from his own, so he listens with interest.

“... or you could erase the destination altogether. Forget your goals and ambitions. Just do. Just live.”

“You should be a motivational speaker,” Jimin says after a moment. “I think you’d be good at it.”

Namjoon laughs. “Your faith in me is heartwarming, but I think I’ll pass on that one. I’m already itching to move on from all this motivational talk anyway. Have I told you about my bonsai collection?”

The conversation moves on from there. Jimin learns way too much about bonsais, but it’s worth it because by the time he gets home that afternoon, he’s no longer reeling from the fact he slept with Jungkook (for a second time).

He’s thinking instead how maybe it was okay to do that.

Live in the moment.

Enjoy the little thing they had before it was swept away by reality.

Because the truth is, Jimin had enjoyed it, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’d like to do it again.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

unknown number (3:04pm): hey… 

unknown number (3:07pm): this is jimin

unknown number (3:07pm): got your number from namjoon who got it from seokjin

unknown number (3:07pm): no you’re not reading that wrong

unknown number (3:07pm): yes it’s really me

unknown number (3:08pm): <photo attached>

unknown number (3:08pm): ta-da 

unknown number (3:08pm): you were about to delete these messages weren’t you

unknown number (3:08pm): god you’re predictable

unknown number (3:10pm): anyway

unknown number (3:10pm): i think you should come over

unknown number (3:12pm): yeah

unknown number (3:12pm): come over

unknown number (3:12pm): pass the time or whatever

unknown number (3:12pm): with me

unknown number (3:12pm): if you want

unknown number (3:15pm): i’m not working tonight

jungkook (3:25pm): how you manage to sound like a complete douche over text is impressive ngl

jungkook (3:26pm): i’ll be there at 8

Falling into bed with Jimin is easy the way everything else with him is not. He doesn’t talk so much when they’re kissing. For once, Jungkook thinks he might even like the way Jimin’s voice sounds, though it goes back to grating and annoying the minute they’re done.

“Get your lazy ass off my bed and go home,” Jimin says once. It’s their third or fourth time at this point.

Jungkook gets a special sort of satisfaction when irritating Jimin. “No thanks.”

Jimin huffs. “Whatever. Just stay on your side of the bed.”

It’s funny how those words stay with Jungkook.

My side.

They scratch at something in the back of his mind but he doesn’t let himself explore it. They’re just words, after all. They have no meaning, just like all of this has no meaning. Jimin has said it enough times for Jungkook to learn by now.

They’re just here to pass the time.

Another day, Jungkook finds himself back at Serendipity. It’s after a shift at a part time job in a restaurant but he’s applying to other jobs too, seeing what else is out there. Sometimes he’ll come across an ad about auditioning for an entertainment company, or see something about an open mic night in a bar, but he dismisses it.

Maybe that’s why he’s particularly bitter tonight, the thought that he’s a mess of missed chances and wasted dreams while Jimin thrives on stage daily. After the performance, he finds himself sitting with that dancer who kicked him out that one time, Namjoon who isn’t working tonight, and Seokjin.

Jimin’s in the back changing, but Jungkook is sure he’ll join soon. Seokjin had said to him before they came out tonight, I think Jimin’s going to hang out with us. Just, play nice, okay?

“I want to apologise again,” Hoseok is saying to Jungkook. “About that night? I was being protective of Jimin. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d actually leave.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook tells him.

He’s more pissed at Jimin for letting it happen, but he’s more or less over it. Hoseok seems like a nice guy anyway, and the more they talk, the more Jungkook enjoys his company. He’s got a sunshine kind of personality and makes Jungkook feel important somehow, with the easy way he meets his gaze and says his name while talking.

He only falls silent when Jimin emerges from somewhere in the back. He’s dressed in tight jeans and goes straight to the bar, where he starts chatting with Taehyung, a smile playing on his lips within two seconds of talking.

Jungkook scowls.

Hoseok chuckles. “You too?” he asks.

Jungkook forces himself to look away. “What?”

“They’re always flirting,” Hoseok says with a forced laugh. It’s the most tense Jungkook has heard him sound tonight.

Jungkook sets his shoulders back, taking a sip of his drink. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re lucky. It bothers me.” Hoseok clears his throat. Beside them, Seokjin and Namjoon are engrossed in their own conversation so Jungkook focuses on what Hoseok is saying. “Tae’s the kind to flirt with everyone, so I never know if he means what he says. And Jimin, well, he flirts right back. They’re two peas in a pod. Soulmates.”

Something heavy sits on Jungkook’s chest. He tries not to think about it by asking, “Do you have feelings for Tae?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, kinda. Does Jimin know?”

“Jimin knows everything about me,” Hoseok says.

Jimin barks out a laugh loud enough to carry to their table, and suddenly all Jungkook can see is red. What a sucky friend. He knew the dancer was a horrible person, but to flirt in front of Hoseok’s crush like this? Without a care of how it might come across?

“You should tell him off for that, you know,” Jungkook says.

Hoseok shrugs. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It sure looks like it means something to me.”

They both glance over just in time to see Jimin brush a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Jungkook’s not always the kind to get involved in other people’s business but he can’t stop himself from stepping out of the booth.

Hoseok’s mouth drops open. “Jungkook, wait—”

He doesn’t wait. On quick footsteps, he makes his way to the bar, taking up the space next to Jimin, an elbow on the counter, his body facing his direction. He watches the way Jimin turns towards him, lips downturned in what he reads as disgust.

“Right. You’re here.”

“You’re a really selfish person, aren’t you?” Jungkook spits.

Jimin seems taken aback by the ugly tone. “It’s barely been two seconds and you’re already looking to fight?”

Jungkook side-eyes Taehyung who’s watching them and decides he’d rather not have an audience for this. So against his better judgement, he grabs Jimin by the arm and pulls him outside into the crisp cold air. Jimin doesn’t really protest, though he goes a little reluctantly, maybe resignedly.

“What is it now?” Jimin asks once they’re away from crowds of people.

“How could you do that to Hoseok?”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Flirt with the guy he has a crush on.”

Jimin looks at him with disbelief. “Really? You dragged me out here to school me on what I can and can’t do? Hoseok knows it’s just for fun.”

Jungkook can’t believe how blind someone can be. “Have you ever tried asking him that?”

“I don’t have to because he knows. He’s my friend, not yours. I think I know him better than you.”

“Yeah? You think so?” If this was anyone else, Jungkook would have kept his mouth shut and let things play their course, but he can’t help it when it comes to Jimin. Can’t help anything when it comes to him. “Because you weren’t the one who had to see how he looked as he watched you two flirt like lovers.”

Jimin’s expression darkens, but he’s silent for a second or two, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. Jungkook thinks he might finally admit his stupidity, until he actually opens his mouth to speak.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Jimin says, brows smoothing out.

Jungkook feels like he’s just been struck. “Wh- What?”

“Of me and Tae?”

Now it’s Jungkook who can’t speak.

“You like me that much, Jungkook?” Jimin cocks his head to one side, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“I thought I made it clear how much I hate you.”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin steps towards him, flattening a hand on his chest as he has many times before. Jungkook feels frozen. “I can feel your heart beating like crazy. I think that says otherwise.”

The thing is, Jungkook wants him. It’s crazy to him how he can have so much anger for one person, yet moments like this make him desire him even more. There’s not a single other person in the world who has ever made him feel this way, and it’s scary and frustrating all at the same time.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jimin asks. His smirk is gone. All playfulness disappeared. It’s just a question.

It’s just a question, and yet Jungkook flounders for an answer that doesn’t make him seem desperate, that doesn’t make it seem like everything Jimin just said is true.

Because he hates him, more than anyone else in the world.

He should say that, reiterate it so Jimin doesn’t forget.

Instead, he stares at Jimin’s plump lips, heart pounding in his ears, and says, “Let’s go.”

Since Jimin hasn’t had a drop to drink, he leads them to his motorbike parked around the back of the building after grabbing his stuff and pulling on a thick leather jacket. When they get there, Jimin hands over his helmet without a word and takes his keys out of his pocket.

Jungkook just stands there, utterly aware of the fact that there’s only one helmet.

Jimin’s already swinging his leg over the top of the bike. “Come on then, get on. What are you waiting for?”

Jungkook clutches the helmet tightly. “It’s just—”

“Are you scared?”

“No, but you don’t have—”

“If you’re scared, just say so. I’ll get you a cab to mine and we can meet there.”

If Jimin gets him a cab, he’ll be able to use his helmet. If Jimin gets him a cab—

That idea is ridiculous in and of itself, because it’s not like Jungkook can’t just get his own cab. It’s not like he can’t ride the bike without a helmet, and it’s not like he can’t do anything on his own.

It reminds him of that night where they ran into the bar by Jimin’s apartment, when Jungkook asked him to stay and by some miracle, he did.

“I’m not scared,” Jungkook says.

“Then stop standing there like an idiot and get on.”

The words don’t land the way they normally would. Jungkook’s too busy trying to understand Jimin’s intentions. Clearing his throat, he puts the helmet on and it hugs his cheeks. The visor is still up, so Jimin helps him put it down, his hand lingering there for a few seconds.

“Just hang on, okay? I’ll go slow,” he says. “Have you been on one of these before?”

“No,” Jungkook tells him. “I wanted to learn but—”

I didn’t have time.

Life got in the way.

It feels like it’s too late.

Jimin doesn’t have to know about his failed dreams.

“Maybe you can learn one day,” Jimin says.

Jungkook climbs on wordlessly behind him. The bike revs to life and then they’re off, Jungkook’s hands on Jimin’s shoulders as the world whizzes past around them, making his heart soar. He’s aware of Jimin’s muscles and the way they move as he drives. He’s aware of his hair flicking back in the wind. He’s aware of everything Jimin, all of him.

It’s probably just because he’s never felt so free before that he mumbles into the helmet, “Maybe you can teach me.”

He’s relieved when Jimin doesn’t react.

The words get lost in the wind.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It must be because Yoongi has promised to come visit soon that Jimin feels odd. As he watches Jungkook leave his apartment with a curt “bye” one morning, something stirs in his chest, this longing for permanence, this desire for contentment like Namjoon’s preached to him so many times.

But contentment is fleeting. On stage is the only time it embeds itself deep in his pores. He still loves it with every fibre of his being. What his mother said about it being a wild fancy that would soon go away has been proven wrong, and yet—

Once he’s off the stage, that all goes away. Just like this. Nights with Jungkook disappear so quickly and yet, in the moment, he can’t get enough. It’s not that he likes him. Maybe it’s because he offers a nice distraction. Or maybe it’s because he’s so good in bed, not that Jimin will ever admit that out loud.

Whatever it is, it leaves him feeling uneasy more often than not.

Sometimes it comes out in his texts with Jungkook, when he’s inviting him over or asking where he is.

asshole (11:11pm): omw

jimin (11:12pm): too slow

jimin (11:12pm): i’m gonna start without you

asshole (11:12pm): don’t you dare

jimin (11:13pm): give me a good reason not to

asshole (11:15pm): because i’m much better than your hand and you know it

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? He is. There’s no denying that Jimin enjoys these sexual escapades. When he equates it to the way he feels about dancing, he goes insane because it makes him realise that for some crazy reason, he craves a sense of permanence for both.

“You’re just confused,” Jimin says to himself, finally getting out of bed. “The sex is good so you’re confused.”

He sits at his computer for a bit. It’s nearing Christmas and he wants to get his friends gifts. Most everyone is easy to buy for, though he does consider getting Taehyung a gag gift just because; maybe a candy wedding ring?

He giggles to himself and makes the purchase, about to shut off his computer when another thought occurs to him.

Heart skipping a beat because it’s a good idea, he thinks, he finds the webpage for the company he often buys his bike gear from. It’s better to ride with proper leathers and a helmet. If he’s going to be giving Jungkook rides, he may as well get him something to wear, right?

Right.

He clicks ‘buy’ before he can think too hard about it.

The days pass by quickly, nothing too special happening, yet there’s a difference in the air that Jimin can’t pinpoint.

He talks to Hoseok one day, clearing the air about Taehyung, ignoring the fact that Jungkook is a big reason for the conversation. Jimin decides he’ll tone down the flirting a bit, and maybe tell Taehyung to get his act together before he loses his chance with a great person.

He shares a few deep chats with Seokjin, who comes by Serendipity more often than Jungkook. Though he’s friends with Jungkook, he’s much easier to talk to, down to earth, a little awkward but very honest. It’s through him that he learns Jungkook is taking motorbike lessons.

Jimin’s not sure why—the discovery makes his heart flutter.

Sometimes he and Namjoon will meet for lunch like they did before, enjoying their lives for what they are rather than what they could be. It’s another feeling that often fades, but Jimin feels calmer because of it.

Two days before Yoongi gets back to Seoul, he finds himself feeling particularly nervous. It’s always like this when he’s about to see him, no different from the last time he was here so many months ago now. In Yoongi’s presence, Jimin always feels like he has something to prove.

jimin (1:45pm): come over tonight?

jungkook (1:46pm): when do you want me?

jimin (1:46pm): i’m off at midnight

jungkook (1:47pm): you’re such a night owl

jimin (1:47pm): so are you

jungkook (1:50pm): i’ll be there

When Jungkook reaches, Jimin’s lips are waiting. Their nights together often go the same way, following the same patterns, but they’re not wrapped up in alcohol like that first night, or stilted like the second. There’s comfort in the way they behave with each other.

Jimin supposes one can get used to anything, even someone one hates.

It helps that they don’t have to talk. Jimin can’t think of a single time they talked without snapping at each other unless they were drinking.

They’re not drinking now either, yet afterwards, when they lay in the sheets side by side, Jimin reaches out to tuck stray hairs behind Jungkook’s ear, and Jungkook leans over to leave a kiss on his shoulder. It works like this, when they can exist in this bubble outside reality, and everything that sets them apart remains waiting outside the room.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Jimin says. He tells himself he just doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

Jungkook hums. “I brought a change of clothes, so.”

Presumptuous, Jimin would normally say, but he doesn’t tonight.

After Jimin turns off the lights, they edge closer to one another, both in each other’s spaces. Was it like this when they began this, or is this a new development? Jimin doesn’t remember, but he doesn’t say anything about it, not wanting to break whatever this is.

And if they fall asleep with their fingers intertwined…

Nobody questions that either.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It’s still dark when Jungkook stirs. Rain pitter patters on the roof but that’s not what woke him up. It’s the empty sheets, the lack of someone who should be there, as well as the voices outside the door, muffled and incomprehensible.

Someone else is here, in their space. Jungkook swallows rising apprehension, his heart doing this strange, twist-y, funny thing. Patting his chest, he swings his legs off the bed and slips into the bathroom, washing his face, changing his clothes.

And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he pads to the door, just about to grab the doorknob when the words outside become clear.

“I never said I’m not happy to see you, but you told me tomorrow and you’re here today,” comes Jimin’s frustrated voice. “The least you could have done was warn me.”

“I’m sorry,” a stranger answers. “I said that, didn’t I? I managed to get an earlier flight. I wanted to see you.”

“You should’ve texted.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“Well, I’m definitely surprised.”

“That much is obvious. Look, I’ll make up for this by taking you out for breakfast. Maybe I’ll buy you something too. When was the last time we went shopping together?”

“It’s been a while.” There’s a smile in Jimin’s voice, and then he’s sighing. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry too. Sorry for yelling.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m pretty used to it by now anyway.”

“Shut up.” A giggle comes through the closed door, giddy and striking Jungkook in the pit of his belly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Come here.”

It’s some other Jungkook that turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open, some other Jungkook that enters upon a scene that makes his breath catch and his mind short circuit. A different Jungkook, who can’t look away from Jimin embracing a man he’s never seen before.

There’s a suitcase beside him, like he plans to stay. He’s about Jimin’s height, his hair in a bun, his features striking. He looks up when Jungkook steps out, his arms retreating from around Jimin, curiosity in his eyes.

“Hello,” he says. “Are you a friend of Jimin’s?”

Something about those words feel like a threat. Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer. All he can focus on is Jimin as he spins around hastily, panic around the edges of his eyes, telling him everything he needs to know.

All he can hear is Jimin saying, “J- Jungkook—” then cutting himself off abruptly.

All he can think is that this is the beginning of the end, though he always knew it would be this way.

Nothing lasts forever.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” Jimin mumbles.

“I’m awake.”

It’s like that night all over again, the one where Jimin ended up at the same bar as him, nursing a glass of whiskey and moping about being fired. The words feel fake and stilted, forced out to upkeep a charade like something exists between them when nothing ever did.

This is pointless.

Staying here is pointless.

“Yoongi just showed up,” Jimin tells him. He lifts a hand towards the stranger, lightly brushing his shoulder. “This… This is Yoongi. He was supposed to get here tomorrow. There was a mix up. Um… We didn’t mean to wake you.”

It’s raining quite heavily now. Jimin’s apartment doesn’t have much protection from it, so Jungkook can hear it loud and clear. He might have to take a taxi home since Jimin lives a ten minute walk from the subway station and he didn’t bring an umbrella. He learned that the hard way last time.

“It’s nice to meet you…” Yoongi starts, then trails off in question. Jimin fills in for him.

“Jungkook!” Jimin wrings his hands together, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Sorry. That’s Jungkook.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Yoongi says.

Between his whirring thoughts and his plans to get home, Jungkook somehow finds himself explaining, “I don’t come here much. I just happened to spend the night. We didn’t… I mean, I don’t…”

Jimin’s brows are pulled down slightly. Jungkook doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

In the midst of his turmoil, he thinks how he enjoys the smell of Jimin’s sheets, and he likes the way he holds him. It’s okay to think that now, isn’t it, as it’s all about to go away?

“We were gonna get breakfast,” Jimin says.

Breakfast. Since it’s raining so hard, maybe Jungkook will hop into the CU convenience store across the street and grab something there. That way he has somewhere to wait while he calls a taxi from one of his taxi apps. He wouldn’t want to wait here, as much as he longs to stay.

“Do you want to come?” Jimin’s asking.

Jungkook can’t imagine why anyone would subject themselves to that. Yoongi’s here with a suitcase to see Jimin, because he missed Jimin, and Jimin missed him too, so why would Jungkook put himself in the middle of that?

But then he realises that if his time with Jimin means nothing, it wouldn’t matter if he joined them. Jimin’s asking because it doesn’t matter to him, because it means nothing to him, and Jungkook’s eyes burn and he’s thinking how this is a fucked up way to find out he might actually like Jimin.

Maybe even loves him.

“I have to go,” Jungkook squeezes out, then turns back into the bedroom to grab his things. It’s just a backpack. If he doesn’t leave it behind like he did the notebook, he won’t have a reason to come back.

Suddenly he wishes he would have pretended to forget he brought it.

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks from the doorway. There’s a look on his face Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. It doesn’t belong there, directed at him. Jungkook doesn’t want his fake concern.

“Yeah.” Jungkook hangs his backpack on a shoulder. He wants to give Jimin a reassuring smile, one that says, it’s fine. I get it. You don’t have to explain.

But he can’t even look at him.

“Bye, Jimin,” Jungkook says, moving past him.

He says something to Yoongi on the way out, a quick mindless it was nice to meet you before slipping into his shoes and leaving the apartment altogether. He nearly sprints down the four flights of stairs, hoping he won’t hear anyone coming after him, nor that he’ll hear someone call his name.

He doesn’t anyway.

Jimin doesn’t come after him.

He doesn’t call his name.

As Jungkook emerges into the rain, getting soaked in seconds, he thinks how maybe it’s better he’s the one who leaves this time.

That way Jimin won’t have a chance to.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

jimin (12:14pm): hey, wanna meet tonight?

jimin (2:39pm): hello?

jimin (5:42pm): guess you’re busy huh

jimin (11:54am): what are you doing tonight

jimin (11:55am): i’m not working

jimin (4:14pm): busy again?

jimin (1:01am): jin told me you’re getting a bike licence

jimin (1:07am): we should go for a ride together

jimin (2:32am): or not

jimin (1:01am): <message deleted>

jimin (1:07am): <message deleted>

jimin (2:32am): <message deleted>

jimin (11:33pm): that’s it?

jimin (11:33pm): you’re ending things without a word?

jimin (12:06am): you’re such an asshole

jimin (1:11am): i hate you

When Jungkook’s Christmas present arrives two days before Christmas itself, Jimin breaks down into tears. He takes one look at the helmet and leathers and kicks the box away before stuffing his face into a pillow to scream.

He wants to yell at him. He wants to call him all sorts of names and tell him what a horrible human being he is and get every negative thing he’s thought about him in the last few weeks off his chest so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

But he can’t.

He can’t because Jungkook won’t answer him. He won’t come over. He won’t come by the bar. Even Seokjin clams up about him when Jimin broaches the topic, so he’s learned not to ask at all because whenever he so much as whispers his name, his heart shatters.

They had a good thing going. Jimin’s thoughts often return to this, thinking how even if they still bickered all the time, somehow when they laid in each other’s arms that all went away. Jimin learned to like the way Jungkook’s arms moulded to fit him. He thought Jungkook liked it too, when he tightened his hold and kissed his forehead and breathed him in.

Even if they hadn’t said it, it had been plain as day, hadn’t it?

So Jimin doubled down on his decision to buy Jungkook a gift, thinking maybe if he couldn’t say it, he could show it.

Ask him if maybe instead of meeting for sex, they could grab a meal. Or get a drink in that bar by Jimin’s apartment and recreate the night this all began, see if this had become something real.

Bye, Jimin.

Jimin feels a fresh wave of tears coming on. There’s drool on his lips and his throat is clogged and his chest hurts. The least Jungkook could have done was tell him. All he had to say was, it’s over, and Jimin would have accepted it. Maybe not happily, but at least he would know, at least he wouldn’t be kept guessing.

Was it something he did? Or had Jungkook always planned to disappear forever that morning?

Was it payback, because Jimin left him stranded at Sijaghida so Jungkook pettily decided he had to do the same?

“Fuck you,” Jimin says into the empty room. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

He’s going to quit Serendipity. He’s going to let his lease go and move away from this city because he can’t take it anymore. He feels surrounded by his failures, Yoongi taking space in the guest bedroom and stealing the limelight in his family. The phantom of Jungkook’s presence scattered all across the bedroom.

What’s the point of dancing if it’s not to go somewhere, achieve something, earn a trophy he can hang upon his wall? Why is he still doing this, performing for customers who don’t care and surrounding himself with people who don’t get it?

He wants a different life. He doesn’t know what that looks like but he feels trapped here, grounded, unable to take flight.

Sniffing harshly, he lifts himself from the bed, stumbling to the bathroom to frantically wipe his face. The tears are temporarily at bay but Jimin doesn’t know when they’ll come back, what might trigger it.

He can’t think right now. He just has to do, do, do, move, move, move and maybe he’ll be so busy he’ll forget to be sad.

After pulling on some leathers and a pair of boots, he makes a grab for his helmet and his keys. He’s halfway down the stairs when he runs into Yoongi, who’s just returning from meeting some people.

“Hey,” he says, footsteps faltering when he takes in Jimin’s face. “You okay? Going somewhere?”

“I’m fine.” Jimin moves to slip past him, but Yoongi shifts so there isn’t enough room. “What?” he snaps.

Yoongi’s jaw drops a little, but he pulls himself together a second later. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, well sometimes I cry. Let me through.”

“Are you going to work? Isn’t it too early for that?”

“Why do you even care?”

“You look devastated about something, of course I care,” Yoongi says. “You shouldn’t get on a bike like this. It could be dangerous.”

“What do you know about riding?”

But of course. Of course Yoongi’s done it before, in Thailand or Italy or who-knows-where, Jimin’s got it all mixed up now because Yoongi’s done everything. And all Jimin can do is get his heart broken over and over and over again.

“How about I make us some tea and we talk, hm?” Yoongi says.

He’s perfect. Everything about him. No wonder Mother loves him more.

“I’d rather not,” Jimin says spitefully. “You’re not even my real brother. I don’t have to do anything with you.”

With a shove to Yoongi’s shoulder, he slips past him, finally making it to the parking lot so he can fire his bike to life. Yoongi calls after him, telling him to stop, that he’s going to hurt himself, but Jimin doesn’t listen.

He races out of there before Yoongi can physically stop him.

At least he’s not crying anymore. With the rumble of the engine beneath him and the streets in his view, he has something else to focus on. His eyes catch the signs around him, and he follows the one that will take him out of the city. He doesn’t have a specific destination, but his mind turns to days that were simpler, when his parents watched him run barefoot on the sand and he didn’t even know Yoongi existed.

Before he knows it, he’s following a trail to Busan. It’s a weekday and not a lot of people are out on the roads, so he picks up speed, letting himself enjoy this for what it is.

It doesn’t last long though.

An hour in, reality catches up. Jimin skids into a rest stop, pulling into a parking spot messily as his eyes burn and his throat closes. He removes his helmet in a haste, a foot on the ground for balance, the engine falling silent as he takes out the key. The sun is halfway to setting. His heart feels like it’s setting with it.

He takes his time there, washing his face and ignoring the looks of others, probably wondering why a grown man is crying in leathers and a helmet beneath his hand, hair dyed, makeup smudged. He’s used to people judging him, confused about how he can be a pole dancer when he loves the thrill of riding bikes.

It doesn’t have to make sense. He’s who he’s always been. He just wishes he could be so unapologetically.

Once the tears have stopped, he gets back on his bike. He has a destination in mind and hours to go to get there.

He carries on, as he always has, no matter what life throws at him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Jimin’s missing.”

Jungkook gets the call about a quarter to 6. It’s already dark, the sky bathed in navy blue. He sits up when he hears Seokjin’s words on the other end, his heart jumping as he processes them, thinks through the implications of what that means.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “What do you mean he’s missing? Hyung, what does that mean?”

“Someone came by the bar looking for him. Namjoon was there and spoke to him. He was frantic apparently, said that Jimin just took off on his bike in tears.”

Yoongi, Jungkook thinks.

“He’s supposed to be performing tonight,” Seokjin goes on. “Theoretically, he’ll show up at Serendipity soon, but no one’s been able to reach him. We think his phone was turned off. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“No.” Jungkook’s heart clenches. He barely knows a thing about Jimin. Their entire relationship was built on passing the time, not getting to know each other. How could he know? And yet— yet he racks his brain for a clue anyway.

“The bar by his apartment?” he ponders out loud.

“What bar?”

Jungkook’s on his feet before he knows it. “I’ll check. Just, keep your phone on. Update me if anything changes.”

“Okay—”

Jungkook has hung up before Seokjin can answer.

When Jungkook reaches the bar, it’s clear Jimin won’t be here. It’s not a very big place. He scans the mostly empty tables and chairs, still waiting for the night crowd to fill them. Well. Just because he can’t see him doesn’t mean he wasn’t here.

Jungkook goes up to one of the servers, asking them if Jimin’s been here, describing him as they nod in recognition of who he’s talking about. But all they say is, “No, he hasn’t been here today. Sorry.”

With a sigh, Jungkook leaves, wondering where else Jimin might go.

Sijaghida?

I loved that place, Jimin said to him once.

So Jungkook hails a taxi there, races out with his heart in his throat. It doesn’t even occur to him how the people he used to work with will react. He enters through the front door and scans the space where the stage is, the tables and chairs surrounding it, the bar, runs up to the second floor but he sees no one who looks like Jimin.

“Jungkook?” a voice calls when he’s climbing back down to the first floor. It’s Binna, her makeup not done yet. She looks like she just arrived. “What are you doing here?”

“Have you seen Jimin?”

“Jimin?” Binna laughs. “You mean the Jimin you made quit from this place? That one?”

Jungkook feels a wave of guilt. He hadn’t meant to. If only he had let Jimin know—he never wanted him to quit, never expected it, wished he would have stayed.

“Yeah,” Jungkook croaks out. “That one.”

“I haven’t seen him since the time he came looking for you,” Binna tells him.

“He… what?”

“Don’t ask me. I told him you’d been fired and he ran out of here without another word, holding some notebook.” Binna frowns. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

Jungkook backtracks out of there.

Jimin came looking for him? When? What notebook? Oh. His notebook. Because Jungkook left his notebook behind. Because he slept with him that very first time after the most awkward conversation in the world. Because he had been too stubborn to go back, but Jimin went looking for him and couldn’t find him, so he kept it.

He kept it beside his bed until Jungkook took it back.

He reached out to him until Jungkook stopped reaching back.

He kissed him. He held him.

Until Jungkook left, taking off so quickly every morning in an attempt to stop Jimin from speaking, because if he spoke, Jungkook might hear exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

He might hear exactly what he wanted to hear.

And it’s terrifying, to think that there might be someone out there who cares for him. In a world where he believes he’ll lose everything he gets too close to, everything he wants too much, Jimin somehow climbed to the top of that list.

And now he’s gone.

Jungkook fumbles for his phone outside Sijaghida, finding Jimin’s number and hitting ‘call’.

It goes straight to voicemail.

He feels completely out of options. He doesn’t know Jimin well enough, yet he’s desperate enough to search the entire city if he has to, poke his head into every nook and cranny, every building, every park and café, everywhere.

But that will take too long.

Why does he feel like he’s running out of time?

He calls the next number on his most recent list, and Seokjin picks up within seconds.

“Hey. Did you find him?”

“No.” Jungkook starts to pace, brushing a hand through his hair. “I checked a few places but he wasn’t there. Hyung, I don’t know him well enough. I just— I screwed up. I- I pushed him away and—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Jungkook, don’t panic, okay? It’ll be okay. I’m at Serendipity now with Namjoon and Jimin’s brother. We’re trying to come up with a game plan. Let me put you on speaker.”

Brother?

Jimin’s… brother?

The ground beneath Jungkook’s feet suddenly feels unsteady. He moves to the wall, leaning back against it while the voices of the others wash over him.

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I’ve spent the last few years living overseas. You guys are his friends, right? Surely you know where else he could have gone?”

A conversation they once shared what seems like so long ago now drifts back. I used to be an only child. But Jimin's not anymore. He told him. So Jungkook should have known; should have remembered. And if he had remembered...

“Sometimes Jimin and I would go to museums. He could be there.”

“One of us should check.”

“Let’s make a list of places and scatter. Namjoon, it’s alright if you take some time off to do this?”

“Someone else will cover for me. This is more important.”

Why didn’t he ever ask? After Yoongi showed up, why didn’t he ask Jimin who he was?

“This is my fault. I tried to be there for Jimin but I never knew how, and now he’s…”

“Yoongi, it’s not your fault. I may not know you very well but I’m sure Jimin loves you. He could just be getting some air and we’re all panicking over nothing.”

Jungkook takes a rattling breath, trying to calm himself, but his thoughts are all over the place. He recalls the texts Jimin sent him after, asking for him. There was one particular one that gave him pause, about going for a ride together. He had hesitated then, thinking maybe, maybe he could answer.

But when he checked the messages again in the morning, Jimin had deleted them, and that was that.

Where would Jimin go for a ride? He’s been gone for hours now. He could be out of the city for all they know. He could be halfway to Busan and—

Jungkook stands straighter, a half forgotten conversation suddenly rearing its head.

I like the beach.

Me too. I grew up in Busan so I went to the beach a lot.

“... go to Yongsan-gu, you can go to Jongno-gu and I’ll—”

“The beach,” Jungkook interrupts. It’s a far stretch but he’s thinking about everything he knows about Jimin, and maybe because this is one of the only things he remembers, but he’s holding onto it like his life depends on it. “I think he went to Busan.”

“He hasn’t been back there since his dad died,” Yoongi says. “Why would he go there?”

“He told me he likes the beach.” It’s such a surface level thing to know, something that gives away the fact that Jungkook knows nothing. He didn’t even know about Jimin’s dad. How could he not know about something like that?

“Gwangalli beach.” Yoongi takes a breath and lets it out. “He used to talk about Gwangalli beach.”

“I’m gonna find him,” Jungkook announces, then hangs up before anyone can say otherwise. Having worked in this area for months, he knows there’s a place nearby he can rent motorbikes. He just got his licence a week ago. He can make it down to Busan in four hours.

Four hours takes him to nearly 11pm.

He knows this is a crazy idea, but it’s Jimin.

It’s Jimin.

Half an hour later, he’s leaving the city, lights on and visor down. Despite everything, the downward spiral after assuming Yoongi was one of Jimin’s old lovers, the intrusive thoughts telling him that he was unwanted everywhere he went, the ever present loneliness coating him from head to toe…

Despite everything, he feels calm right now.

The wind rushes past him, the lights turning into streaks, and Jimin’s at the end of this road.

He hopes.

He knows.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jimin watches the waves ebbing and flowing until he enters a kind of trance. Whatever tears he had after he arrived has disappeared too. Now he just sits here on the sand, the lights of the city on his left, a bridge going across the ocean in front of him.

There’s faint music drifting from the street behind him, a long row of restaurants lit up, but the light doesn’t quite reach the part of the beach he’s at, close to the water but not quite close enough to get wet. His helmet’s propped on the sand beside him. There are a few people around, walking by and taking pictures but paying him no mind.

The last time he came here was right after his dad died, right before he and Mother moved to Seoul. It was so long ago. He was barely ten, didn’t really understand what it meant that he was gone. Mother brought him here and cried. That’s the last thing he remembers of this place.

All these years, he never thought about coming back. There’s an ache in his chest when he thinks about it sometimes, but it’s also been a while. It’s been long enough that sometimes he forgets. And then he would feel guilty, for letting Yoongi and his dad replace what he used to have.

He would blame them. Blame Mother. Blame himself.

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to linger on the past. He’s always wanted life to just take over, sweep him up in it and let him live in the here and now. He supposes that’s part of the reason it was hard to talk to Namjoon at first, until he realised maybe he could learn something from him.

When he was with Jungkook in the bubble they’d created, he wasn’t thinking about anything else.

He misses him.

It’s crazy how much he misses him.

Crazy how much he didn’t want what they had to end.

Crazy how he hates him, in the sense where hate isn’t hate but love.

“Jimin?”

Jimin’s trance breaks. He blinks a few times, lifting his eyes in confusion because the voice he just heard shouldn’t be here and yet—

Yet when he looks up, Jungkook stands there, head framed by city lights, helmet in hand. He looks a little worse for wear, though it’s hard to tell in the dim light. But Jimin can tell after all those months together. He can tell that he’s tired.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Jungkook says, dropping to his knees and letting go of his helmet to grab Jimin’s hands, cradling them like something precious. “I can’t believe it.”

Jimin has been rendered speechless. He left Seoul to get away and yet Jungkook is here. Why is he here?

“No one could reach you,” Jungkook tells him, as if the silent question had been spoken. Jimin’s hands lie limp in his own so he lets go, falls back onto his bum beside him. “Um… We were just worried. I…”

Jimin hasn’t seen him since that morning he left and never came back. He should be angry, and he supposes a part of him is—angry and confused. But right now he’s just surprised. Maybe a little curious as to why Jungkook would come all the way here for him, alone.

“You should’ve told someone where you were going,” Jungkook scolds, but it’s said with a soft tone. “That way all your friends wouldn’t have panicked trying to find you.”

“Did you?” Jimin finally asks.

Jungkook turns to Jimin in question.

“Did you panic? Are you… one of those friends who panicked?”

Turning to look at the sea, Jungkook gives a curt nod. The water is calm here, no big waves, just a gentle rush to the shore before retreating. Their conversation is usually more dramatic than it has to be, back and forth, push and pull, aggressive and passionate. But there were times Jimin wondered if it could be like this while still being real.

“What did you think?” Jimin prods. “That I was gone forever or something? That I was hurt?”

There’s a bitter edge to the questions. Never mind. Maybe he’s not capable of staying calm around Jungkook.

“What do you want from me? Coming all the way out here after you left… What do you want?”

“When you looked for me to return my notebook, what were you thinking?”

Jimin falls silent. It seems like so long ago now. Back then, he hadn’t thought much of Jungkook. That whole night had been unexpected, their connection palpable, even if it had just been a bid to counter being lonely. What had he wanted? What had he hoped for?

He thinks he just wanted to see him again. Just have an opportunity to see him again, with no expectations for what might come.

“You had every opportunity to see me,” Jimin says. “You cut things off without a word. It’s different.”

Jungkook flattens a hand on the sand, turns it into a fist to lift, and then lets the grains fall back to the ground. He does it again, and one more time, unable to answer. Out of words.

Until he says, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”

Jimin glances at him, noticing the deep frown on his face. With a scoff, he asks, “Would that have changed anything?”

Jungkook looks struck. He stops playing with sand, letting his hands fall limp in his lap. “I think… I think I wanted a reason to leave. When Yoongi got there, it was a chance to protect myself. Everything I love gets taken away from me. I didn’t see why you would be any different.”

The words spin around in Jimin’s head, playing themselves over and over again. He hears the implication, the meaning behind them like a dream.

“But, Jimin—” Jungkook meets his eyes now, wide and desperate. “I was wrong. As soon as I thought you were missing, I realised it didn’t matter if you had a boyfriend, or if you loved someone else, I couldn’t lose you. I wanted you in my life one way or another. I shouldn’t have left. I wish I hadn’t left.”

Jimin thinks of the present he bought Jungkook, sitting in the box it came in, his heart twisting. “But you did, Jungkook. Who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“Would it help to say that I was scared?”

Jungkook admitting any kind of weakness seems like a big thing, so Jimin lets him speak, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

“When I was finally able to move away from my parents, it was a chance to start fresh. But I got my job because of them and maybe that’s why it never felt like I belonged there, or that I was worthy of such a job. I wanted to do right by all of you, but all I had was a guidebook to go off of. You challenged me every step of the way.”

In all their interactions, it never occurred to Jimin that Jungkook might not know what he was doing, following the rules to a tee, being inflexible.

“And I guess I made assumptions about you. Look at him, the way he owns that stage… You loved it, and I was jealous. Why was I doing this? Why was I settling for a job I cared nothing about when the whole point of coming to Seoul was to do something for me? I spent years of my life helping turn my parents’ business around. I was cheap labour and they needed me. I gave up my dreams, I gave up an education…” 

He sighs, inhaling a deep breath before going on.

“If I could’ve just been like you, Jimin, maybe I’d be happy too. That’s why I was surprised when you quit. I thought you loved it. It was my fault because you did love it, and I’d pushed you away. Nothing ever worked out for me. Either I would mess up or the world would work against me. I figured it would happen again. Sooner or later, you would realise how utterly pathetic I am, and you would eventually leave.”

Jimin used to think he didn’t want to know anything about Jungkook. Better to leave it a mystery so he could justify his hate. Because the more he learns about him, the more he realises how wrong he was. The thing is, he wanted someone to blame, needed someone to be the villain in his story so he didn’t have to blame himself for not being good enough.

But he’s been learning—good enough doesn’t exist.

Listening to Jungkook speak, the way he saw Jimin’s love for dancing without him having to say it, even the jealousy he felt…

If I could’ve just been like you, maybe I’d be happy too.

Jimin’s desire for ambition isn’t real. It’s a mask for his desire to be seen by his family, to be acknowledged, to be told that he can enjoy pole dancing in a little bar and frequent museums or cafés and go for walks and speed through the streets on his bike, and still be happy. Jungkook seeing him as he truly is warms his heart in a way he didn’t expect.

“I don’t know what your dreams are, but the only person who can stop you from going after them is yourself,” Jimin says. He doesn’t look at him while he says it. There are a lot of other things he wants to address, but he senses this is something that weighs on Jungkook heavily.

Gets confirmation of it when Jungkook responds, “You really think so?”

He sounds so small, his voice just a tad hopeful, like he needs someone to tell him this because he’d never believe it coming from himself. Jimin turns to look at him, nodding. “Yeah. ‘Course you can.” He gestures towards Jungkook’s discarded helmet on the ground. “You got your licence for riding, didn’t you?”

Even in the dim light, it’s easy to tell that Jungkook’s blushing. “Well I… I mean, you inspired me, I guess.”

Jimin’s lips lift of their own accord. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“I’m not sure I ever really hated you.”

Jungkook says that so easily. Jimin gulps as he lets that sink in, then says, “Me too.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound being the sea as it rushes to the shore. It’s peaceful out here. There’s still a sense of uncertainty between them, but Jimin can handle it. After all, Jungkook rode four hours here to find him. That has to count for something.

“That morning,” Jungkook suddenly blurts, voice sounding too loud. He chuckles nervously. “When Yoongi came by your apartment. I’m just… sorry for leaving. Yeah. I’m sorry. I realised how much I- I cared about you and it hurt to think you might have someone else in your life. I… I keep making assumptions about you. I don’t even know how you feel.”

Jimin purses his lips. “Well, I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“Jungkook…” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he sees Jungkook looking at him. “You broke my heart when you left. I know it was partly my fault, for never acknowledging what I felt for you because it was just easier. But I knew even before you stepped out the door that I loved you. That I love you.”

“You love me?” Jungkook asks. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? What’s not to love? I mean, besides you being a bit of an asshole.” Jimin cracks a smile. “I guess I always felt seen by you, and not the way my customers would see me, and not the way my parents or even Yoongi sees me. You made me question so many things about myself, and I hated that. I hated being challenged.”

Jimin thinks while talking that he should have admitted to all of this a long time ago.

“But I think I needed that,” he continues. “My parents want me to be something I’m not. Yoongi exists on another level. My friends at Serendipity just sort of let me be, but you. God, you were never afraid to strip me down, and I don’t mean that physically. You make it less scary to face the ugly parts of myself. Maybe because you would let me see the ugly parts of you too.”

“You saw the ugly parts…” Jungkook starts. “Yet you still love me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should work through your shit, Jungkook,” Jimin says gently. “Because I’d rather my declaration of love not fall on deaf ears.”

“Not deaf,” Jungkook hastily says. “I hear you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I keep letting the way I feel about myself affect how I act around you. I’m trying. I mean, I want to try. I want to work through it. Jimin, you make me feel like I can do anything. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Never.”

The depth of those words strikes somewhere deep inside Jimin until he thinks he might cry again. It’s been such an emotional day. A part of him can’t believe he’s here, in Busan, with Jungkook. He can’t believe Jungkook found him. Of all the people who would find him, of course it would be him.

They may not have gone about friendship and sex the right way, but Jungkook saw, and he listened, and he feels so much. Jimin welcomes it. He welcomes Jungkook’s feelings, his body, his gaze, welcomes all of him and hopes one day Jungkook will fully let him in too.

That’s probably why he doesn’t mind that though Jungkook has basically implied that he loves him too, he hasn’t actually said it. Jimin reaches out now, touching the tips of his fingers to the back of Jungkook’s hand, just feeling him.

“Thank you for coming after me,” Jimin says.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything. If Yoongi hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have even known to look.”

“If you hadn’t gotten on a bike, if you hadn’t thought to look here, if you hadn’t done anything, I would be sitting here alone, wallowing in self pity and believing you truly hated me and that I would never be good enough for anybody. So maybe give yourself some credit.”

“If I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have believed I hated you.”

“I dunno. You only left because you cared too much, and it’s not like I came after you.”

“But you did in your own way. All those texts. I was too much of a coward to respond.”

“I get it though. Nothing about our relationship was secure. If you believed it couldn’t last, that was only because we never talked it through. We were so much more concerned with hating each other than acknowledging the fact we actually enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “I did really enjoy your company.”

“I knew it,” Jimin says playfully. “You wouldn’t have kept coming back to Serendipity otherwise.”

“I was so obvious.”

“Me too. All those embarrassing texts.”

“Not embarrassing. Should’ve known there was something else there.”

“Now you know.”

Jungkook hums. “I guess it’s silly to think about what we could’ve done better.”

“Exactly. You shouldn’t let your regrets stop you from moving forward. We’re here now. You came after me now. When I heard your voice, I swear I thought I was dreaming. But you’re really here. I’m a sucker for grand gestures, you know.”

Jungkook starts to smile, and Jimin returns it, feeling giddy all of a sudden. “I’ll remember that,” Jungkook says, twisting his hand around so their fingers can intertwine. “I hope you’ll be patient with me. I have a thousand things to figure out about my life, but you make me feel brave enough to face it.”

“Will you stay with me while you do?”

“If you’ll have me.” Jungkook faces him, licking his lips. His eyes dip down a bit, then back up. He whispers, “I would really like to kiss you.”

This sweet, honest Jungkook is making Jimin’s heart flutter. He smiles, pulling Jungkook close. “Then kiss me.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

This is a bad idea. The lights are dim except for those on him and there are eyes staring at him and he really wishes he would have put this off a little longer. But it’s Christmas and it was Jimin’s idea and he does miss doing this—singing.

It’s not even like the stakes are high. It’s before opening hours at Serendipity and Jungkook is using a karaoke mic that Yoongi just happened to own and the only ones there are his friends. Jimin’s right in the centre, cheering him on with a smile.

And how he does love Jimin’s smile.

So after taking a deep breath, he nods. Hoseok starts the music, the notes filling the air around them, and finally, after what must be forever, Jungkook sings.

Afterwards, he realises how it’s always been so easy. He may not be able to do it professionally right now, but Jimin was right. He’s been the only one stopping himself from reaching his dreams, swimming against the current so as not to reach them because he was always terrified of what comes next.

Jimin makes it so it’s not so scary.

That evening, Jungkook cooks for Jimin for the first time, and Jimin gifts him leathers and a helmet that must have cost a fortune, saying if he’s going to be riding he may as well be safe, all indifferently like he doesn’t care.

“You care so much about me,” Jungkook teases.

“Shut up, asshole,” Jimin says, but he’s smiling.

The new year becomes the fresh start Jungkook longed for. He does an open mic night for the first time, rewrites some old lyrics of songs he wrote years ago and shows them to Jimin, and then to his friends. His dreams become reality, and though he’s not some megastar, he gains a tiny following, and Jimin supports him all the way.

Seokjin remains his best friend, and Jungkook even finds it in himself to open up about his insecurities, the fears that held him back from so many things all these years. He and Jimin talk about it later, when Jimin explains that he ended up speaking to Yoongi, explaining how much it saddened him that his brother was rarely around, and that he always wanted to be his equal.

They bring out the worst in each other, in the sense that with each other, they’re forced to confront those parts. And because of that, they bring out the best in each other too.

Sometime in the spring of that new year, Jungkook says to Jimin, “I love you,” with nothing holding him back.

In the summer, Jimin suggests they move in with each other.

“I mean, I need someone to cook and do the dishes and you’ve got actual professional experience with it.”

“This is how you’re going to try to get me to move in with you?” Jungkook asks, laughing.

“I’m showing you how much I value you, Jungkookie,” Jimin says with a mischievous smile. “Won’t you at least consider it?”

“What about what you bring to the table, hm?” Even though Jungkook doesn’t need much convincing, he goes with it anyway. “Tell me what you’d do for me.”

Jimin licks his lips, then says matter of factly, “I’ll suck you real good everyday.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops. Flustered, he reaches out to poke Jimin in the side, making him giggle. “You’re insufferable, Park Jimin.”

“Says the insufferable one.”

“You can’t just turn my comebacks around on me. That’s cheating.”

“What would you rather me say? What are you, twelve?”

“You’re stealing my lines!”

Jimin’s got this big grin on his face. “Didn’t know one could have ownership of words. That’s pretty selfish of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re just saying that because my words are superior.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Jimin asks teasingly. “Think we need to bring your ego down a notch or two. Get you back on my level.”

“You could do that, but I’ll still always be taller than you.”

Jimin gasps. “How dare you make fun of my height!”

Somehow, these days, their ‘fights’ always end with them kissing. Jungkook agrees to move in with him a few minutes later, saying he’s actually been thinking of the same thing. He can’t imagine life without Jimin anymore.

“You should’ve just said that to begin with,” Jimin scolds playfully, booping Jungkook on the nose.

“If only you’d have asked me like a normal person.” Jungkook boops him back.

“Nah. This was way more fun.”

Jungkook can’t help but agree.