Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first day without Minjeong passes by like tar dripping through a tight sieve.

Incredibly slow like watching a billion trillion layers of paint dry on a wall.

That might even be faster. Or at least, that’s what Jimin thinks.

But the day ends.

Miraculously.

-

Jimin pretends it’s easy to ignore Minjeong’s absence. She thinks it’s the fourth day.

(It’s not.

(Because on the fourth day, Minjeong texted her to make sure she hadn’t gone and done something stupid (Spidey Duties) and to focus on getting better.

She won’t confirm or deny the number of times she’s looked at their chat and wished to see Minjeong texting her again.

FYI: she hasn’t.)

It’s totally the fifth day. And some hours and some minutes.

Not like she’s keeping track or anything.)

-

It doesn’t hurt to walk around anymore.

She likes to distract herself with rehabilitating and getting back into prime Spidey shape.

Jimin knows she becomes codependent when she loves someone.

Her separation issues make her feel stupid—her grief counselor used to tell her that what she’s feeling isn’t stupid, but sometimes, she can’t help but to feel lost when her Minjeongcentric love life doesn’t have a Minjeong to revolve around. 

She’s trying to figure out how she’s ever lived without Minjeong in her life—how she could ever go without her now. She probably could if she was forced. She’d probably cry an entire ocean that funnels into a stream. Her tears could probably be part of the whole damn ecosystem. But life doesn’t stop and so, she can’t either.

It’s hard to be normal about how much she misses Minjeong. She deserves the cold shoulder she’s getting. If anything, Minjeong’s being nice about it. Not only did Jimin lie to her and withhold information, she incarcerated her dad and put her family in a tumultuous situation. It makes sense why Minjeong put a universe between them.

But still. Jimin’s never really been normal about Minjeong. She has always made her feel in magnitudes, like it takes her whole heart just to understand what she means to her.

It has been zero days since she last cried herself to sleep.

-

A week and a half passes by and it’s been radio silence since her check-in on the fourth day.

Jimin doesn’t even check Find My for Minjeong’s location—it doesn’t feel right. Too invasive. Like she’s lost the trust to know about her whereabouts 24/7.

But she still has the permission. She can’t help but to remember when she earned it.

“I’m gonna share my location with you.”

Jimin, yanked away from her Gardenscape puzzle, gawks, “Really?! Why?”

Minjeong hums, tapping away at her screen. “Aeri and I are gonna pick up that cute dresser I showed you the other week today. Just in case anything happens, and so that you don’t lose your mind from worrying, you’ll know where I am.”

Watching over Minjeong’s shoulder, Jimin thinks she should feel ridiculous for preening with pride when the girl chooses to share it indefinitely. Synonymous with forever. Meaning she trusts her enough to last “indefinitely.”

Maybe she’ll write this into her journal tonight!

When Jimin gets the notification, she’s already sending Minjeong hers.

Indefinitely.

She only checks her location when it’s late at night. Purely just to make sure Minjeong’s home—old habits die hard she supposes.

She only freaked out once when it was past midnight and she didn't see her little blue dot at her place. Jimin just barely had the wits to see if Minjeong had labeled her location, her mask already halfway on her face.

Turtlez’ Time 😎👌🏼

Jimin’s premature heart attack sizzles and pitter-patters away.

She’s glad Minjeong has Aeri; she’d hate for her to deal with this alone.

-

Sometimes, Jimin fears sleeping. She hasn’t been resting all that well the past two weeks. More if she’s counting the weeks that led up to her last fight with Mister Li.

Sleeping means dreaming. Usually, dreams come to her like flowing water. She forgets them as soon as she wakes. But, these are dreams she can’t forget. They torment her. She sees Mister Li winning, she sees Minjeong with a disheartened and stoic look walking away from them in most of her nightmares but sometimes, she loves her back. When she’s lucky, Minjeong loves her back.

Those good dreams end far too soon.

Jimin’s only kissed her cheek once in her dreams. She’s never heard Minjeong say it back.

She thinks of only the good dreams in hopes that they’ll come back to her, that she’ll sleep long enough to hear Minjeong say she loves her, see the shape of her lips when she forms the words, engrave the way she sounds into her heart.

She’s not been successful yet; it’s a work in progress!

-

Jimin has been fucking miserable. 

Days without Minjeong are miserable.

Knowing Minjeong is walking around, upset at her, hurt because of her, and worse, probably feeling alone, is miserable.

Feeling mad and unsettled at Minjeong is miserable.

Not having Minjeong around is miserable.

Did Jimin say she’s been absolutely fucking miserable yet?

If she hasn’t, well she is!

(This is the closest thing Jimin’s felt to sacrificing Minjeong. If that day ever came, she wouldn’t know what to do, the kind of person she’ll become. No one can predict what grief can do to a person.)

The days have all blended together. They all look the same. They all feel the same. Jimin just misses Minjeong more as she toils through each day. The only way she knows a day has passed is when night comes, when the sun peeks through clouds. Time is a phenomenon that she sees pass like dates on a calendar. Quite meaningless.

It’s like feeling depressed all over again.

She is about to leave work and probably aimlessly stare at her ceiling or distract herself and throw herself into her Spidey Duties when she finds Minjeong waiting for her outside of Shin Industries.

“Hey, Jimin…uh…can we talk?”

Finally!

Jimin looks around. It’s busy where they’re at. People are leaving work and bustling about, as expected from a city that never sleeps—she doesn’t want to have this conversation out in the open. “Can we go to mine? Or yours? I don’t care where but I think I’d like to be completely alone with you.”

Minjeong nods, understanding. And as they walk towards the subway, Minjeong’s hand slips into hers, laces their fingers together as if she hasn’t put a cold war between them for the past few days.

The anxious thrumming of Jimin’s heart settles into that of a murmur.

(She’s never really been in this position before—Minjeong is her first girlfriend, after all. The fight they had wasn’t easy, wrought with emotion that tore them up and kept Jimin awake. But there’s something so comforting having Minjeong’s hand in hers like this. It’s like Minjeong said: couples fight. That doesn’t mean they stop caring for each other, stop wanting to seek each other out. If Minjeong is anything like her, she’s been aching for her presence, her touch—a hand on her cheek, Minjeong’s smile brushing against her neck, her arms around her and keeping her safe, pillowy lips she’s missed kissing, a voice that just feels like breathing after drowning.)

Ending up at Jimin’s, they’re both sitting on her bed, looking at everything but each other, unsure of how to start the conversation. There’s so much to talk about, difficult feelings and thoughts to address.

(But, Minjeong bites the bullet first. Makes sense. Jimin’s the one waiting in this. Not one to entertain small talk, she gets right into it. They have more pressing matters to get into rather than asking about how their classes are going or something equally frivolous.)

Minjeong’s fingers twist together, tangled, anxious. It makes Jimin want to reach out for her. Then, her fingers curl into a tight fist, white knuckled, before they release, fully-tensioned pinky that shyly seeks Jimin’s out. Pulling away her hand, Jimin sees a flash of hurt flitter through Minjeong’s eyes. Sliding hers under Minjeong’s to hold her hand, that hurt turns into a flicker of bravery.

She shudders through an exhale, forces herself to look into Jimin’s eyes.

“I'm still trying to forgive you for not telling me. I’m trying to understand why you would do that,” she starts, “but I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’m sorry for the way I treated you and automatically assumed badly of you.” Minjeong looks down, unable to meet her eyes anymore, ashamed. “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t doing enough because you are. More than enough. You're not the kind of person to settle. You always try your best. I truly believe in that and that’s all I can ask from you. But, I lashed out on you. I know it was unfair of me, but I was scared.” When Minjeong is like this, vulnerable and open, looking as small as she does, Jimin remembers that they’re both still so young. There will be mistakes that they’ll make, days where they’re unable to be as kind to each other. Just as Jimin never had any intentions to hurt Minjeong, she believes Minjeong didn’t have any to hurt her either.

They’re both learning how to grow.

(Compassion is a beautiful thing that flourishes even in the darkest of places. Minjeong’s just might be one of the most beautiful things to have come from the universe.

It isn’t lost on her. Minjeong is suffering. She lost so much in a day, and yet, it was only her fear that spoke for her the last time they talked. Whatever anger she had had settled into the raw fear of loss and gnawing of doubt.

Without a question, there’s no other person who inspires her like Kim Minjeong does.)

Understanding that, sympathy starts to fill her heart. When Minjeong looks up at her, Jimin’s sure she can feel her heart crack under the weight of Minjeong’s pain. She hears it in her voice, wells up tears in her eyes because she’d never want to see the person she loves agonized like this. “I wouldn’t have been able to breathe if I didn’t know the truth. When I’m doubting everything I know, I just needed to know that the one other thing I was sure of wasn’t a lie. In the time that we’ve been together, you’ve become so important to me. I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t hear it from you, see it on your face. I need everything with you to be real because what I’m feeling for you is real. I can’t go back to who I was before you, I’d be a different person without you.” When she looks at Jimin, her glassy, pleading eyes feel like daggers piercing through her heart. Devastating. “I couldn’t handle it if I chose to believe and give my heart to the wrong person.”

As hurt as Jimin is, as mad as she is, that compassionate part of her understands Minjeong—her fear and hesitation, the desperate need for validation. The whole of her heart that loves Minjeong for who she is, good and bad, offers forgiveness like a graceful mercy.

So, what do they do now? What is made of them now? Clearly, even in all of this pain, there is no love lost. It’s probably this that makes this all so morbidly bearable.

(Just as power is a responsibility to constantly keep in check, love is a commitment to wear through tear.)

Extending an olive branch, Jimin asks, “Is there anything I can do to reassure you? Maybe I needed to be more present at the time, but is there anything I can do now?”

Minjeong smiles, small, shy and looking away, but achingly bittersweet. “When you treat me like this, especially when I don’t think I deserve it, I’m reminded of how good you are to me for no reason other than because you care about me. Because you…,” she whispers, “…love me.”

When Minjeong looks back into her eyes, a fiery determination dances in hers, “I know I hurt you. I should have never doubted your feelings for me; I’m learning not to. I’m trying to accept your decision to not tell me but my heart isn’t as rational as my brain.”

“Then,” Jimin frowns, a dip in her brow, “how can I get you to see me? You’re upset with me and I want to change that. I want to help you understand.”

Minjeong looks dejected, lost. Like she doesn’t know how she could convince herself either.

“Were you…scared to tell me? Why didn’t you?”

Tentatively reaching for her other hand, Jimin brushes the tips of her fingers along her knuckles, hopes Minjeong will let her take her and hold her tight. “On top of feeling sorry, I was scared. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. How could I tell you that your dad, someone that you highly respect and love, isn’t the person that you think he is? I didn’t want to ruin that for you. It frustrated me that I never-”

Jimin runs her hands through her hair roughly, mad and disappointed in herself. Trust is a fragile thing when it’s wobbling. She knows that their relationship needs attentive care and purposeful intentions, now more than ever. Long fingers tangle together with hers, a thumb smooths out the tight knit of her brow. Minjeong’s looking at her like she’s trying to understand, willing to fix their ruptured trust.

Emboldened and encouraged by Minjeong’s tenacity and effort to reassure her, Jimin gets her thoughts together and continues, “I was never brave enough to tell you. I risk my life everytime I wear my mask, and yet, I was too scared to see the look on your face when it would break your heart. But, I wasn’t able to avoid it anyway. So stupidly, and carelessly, I thought I could run away from the responsibility. Your heart broke anyway. I lied to you and hurt you, despite the fact that I didn’t want to. I should have been kinder and done you a service and told you first. You deserved to know first. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be someone you could rely on, especially when everything happened.”

Minjeong nods to herself, as if trying to persuade herself of Jimin’s intentions, trying to find the forgiveness in her.

It’s okay if it takes time—these things take time. Trust isn’t rebuilt in a day or single conversation.

But-

“I hear you. And…I believe in you. Despite everything, I want to believe you. So, I will. I choose to. No more feeling sorry about this. I just need to process everything.” Minjeong, with a tired but impassioned look in her eyes, firmly takes her other hand, “We’re strong enough to get through this. And if you feel you aren’t, I’ll be strong enough for the both of us. I didn’t say it back when you said it first, but I love you, Jimin. More than I’m able to fathom and articulate. All I know is that I’m not giving up when it gets hard.” Though Minjeong seems to restrain the desperation in her voice, her watering, wobbling eyes plead for her anyway. “So, please, don’t give up on me.”

Oh, she couldn’t.

Jimin couldn’t possibly give up on Minjeong.

So, with hands cupping Minjeong’s cheeks, she pulls her into a kiss—soft and sweet but short, steals another because Jimin can’t help herself. She’s missed her too much not to. With her arms bringing the girl into a tight embrace, like it could show her just how much she wants to stay by her, she feels herself smile, comfortingly and tenderly. Anything to reassure her, like she could listen to a smile, feel it like the hug she gives her. “Baby, I love you. I couldn’t give up on you. I want you much more than you think if you worry this will be even close enough to push me away from you. As long as you want me, you’ll have me. I’m not leaving you until you tell me to. We’ll be okay; we’ll work through it.”

Naturally leading Minjeong up her bed and cuddling with her, Minjeong’s head rests on her chest, her finger absentmindedly tapping along with her heartbeat. A steady metronome, a song of comfort and peace only for Minjeong to listen to and have.

“I hate going to school.”

Coming out of her thoughts, Jimin drops a kiss on her crown, takes in the scent of her shampoo—a smell that she quickly missed in the infinitely many days they weren’t talking. “Are people bothering you?”

Minjeong shrugs like it’s nothing. (Jimin knows it isn’t. Minjeong doesn’t bring up things that unnerve her if they’re nothing; she’s the type to grit her teeth and bear it). “Everyone’s too scared to ask me anything, but I can feel the way they look at me. They pity me. They want to know everything. They look at me like I’m this poor, little girl. They want to open me up and analyze everything about me. They see me and see a spectacle instead of just me.”

Though Minjeong downplays her discomfort, Jimin knows there’s much more to it. She kisses her crown again as if it’s solace. “I’m sorry-”

Minjeong glares up at her like a lighthearted scold.

Jimin winces, softly complains, “I can’t help feeling bad! I indirectly exposed you. I took your privacy away!” Feeling upset with herself, her whine turns into something much more somber and remorseful, “I wish it could have been more lowkey for you. I know it isn’t easy feeling like that. I wish I could take your pain and put it on my back.”

She knows what it’s like. For people to pry, no matter how subtle they try to be about it. For people to look at her like they want to know what she feels or what happened, not out of concern but for their own selfish desire of wanting entertainment. For people to look and only see a tragedy—the girl who saw her sister get murdered right in front of her. Though it has gotten better since graduating high school, she knows she still wears that label on her back. No matter how much she ignores it and has done her best to move past it.

(Those were the days that Yizhuo was her only silver lining and place of comfort. Looking at her family pained her but she stayed strong to support them, knew that her parents needed her presence so that they didn’t feel so alone.

And that left her feeling lonely. Alone but with Yizhuo as her best friend.

She never let her feel lonely for too long.

Yizhuo managed to treat Jimin like everything was normal even when she knew Jimin depended on her while everything was falling apart. And for that, there is nothing she could do to thank her enough.

But outside of Yizhuo, she couldn’t grieve in private, she couldn’t afford to look sad or cry at school even if there were days she could barely eat or talk because all her body seemed capable of doing was crying. That would only bring her more attention and pity. And she already hated it as it was.

It’s unfortunate Minjeong knows a semblance of what that’s like.)

Shaking her head like she refuses the notion, Minjeong props herself up on her elbow and lovingly cradles Jimin’s cheek. She kisses her palm like she’s trying to alleviate her troubles—like it’s a bandage to put together her broken pieces. Minjeong’s lips make a small smile. “It is what it is. We’ll get through it together. You were only doing what was right. You’re taking the blame for something that isn’t entirely your fault. My dad isn’t innocent, either. He put us in this position. He’s the one who endangered me, not you. If he did this differently, if he didn’t want power so much, if he could have found balance. This whole mess didn’t start with you. You and I aren’t the only ones a part of this.”

When there’s a prolonged moment of silence between them, Jimin senses that they’ve talked it all out, at least for now. Minjeong’s just openly gazing at her, her deep, soulful eyes taking her in, some kind of bashfulness in them like she’s too shy to say what’s on her mind.

But Jimin has an idea.

Minjeong’s eyes being attached to her lips every other second says enough.

It’s time to move on. No more of this timidity, walking on eggshells. She wants that feeling of comfort that follows Minjeong, wants to slip back into how easy it is to be with her. 

She would very much like to get back to making Minjeong happy. She has sorely missed the look of a smile on her face. In the best way she knows, Jimin leans over and kisses the tip of Minjeong’s nose, her dimple. Playful and coy, she smirks, “Can we,” an indulgent kiss on her glossy, strawberry-flavored lips, “make out now?” She kisses a smile by the corner of Minjeong’s eye—on her cute, little star-kissed mole. “I haven’t kissed you in so long. I’ve missed it so much,” she whines.

She feels Minjeong’s growing smile in the apple of her cheek when she kisses her other star-kissed mole. “What about missing me?” She teases with her playful smirk tugging on the corner of her lips.

(Jimin can’t help feeling smug. That brightness that’s so intrinsically Minjeong’s shines on her—in her smile, in the mischievous glint in her eyes. Jimin loves making Minjeong smile; it’s one of her favorite phenomenona and pastimes and hobbies and skills and talents and all of the above. 

She considers this a mission accomplished!)

“Ugh, Minjeongie, I was in misery! I miss everything about you. I think we need to fix that expeditiously.”

“Expeditiously?” she mumbles between them, lightly grazing her lips on Jimin’s.

Jimin sighs, swipes her tongue to wet her lips, just a hint of strawberry on them. A simple touch is electric. She’s never wanted anyone more; it’s driving her crazy—she can hardly think.

“Felt like I was dying.” Jimin complains petulantly.

“Dying?” She lilts and lightly drags her thumb across Jimin’s lower lip, the pad of it a little shimmery from Minjeong’s lipgloss as it glistens in the sun.

“Uh-huh,” she dazedly groans.

(Oh my God. Minjeong’s gone and taken her words. She’s made her fucking silly, oh my God.)

Minjeong pecks the corner of her lips—it’s not nearly enough to sate her. “You’re not exaggerating?” She kisses the mole underneath her lips, coy, delaying and playing with her limits.

Oh, she’s just being a brat now.

Jimin nods her head no anyway, a sulky purse of her lips, frustrated wrinkle in her brow. She’s in no mood to pretend she doesn’t want her, like she isn’t dying to kiss her and feel her. She wants her way too damn much to not give in—to put up a fight and show a little more resistance and backbone. Tangled and lost, insatiable and needy, she restlessly kisses Minjeong like she needs it to live, staving off thirst with a mere touch.

Though it’s just a short one, Minjeong’s breath catches and stutters, a small puff of air on her lips. A wave of power washes over Jimin; Minjeong wants her just as much. Terribly veiled and laughably transparent, like it couldn’t possibly be restrained no matter how hard she tries to be unfazed and cool, her eager ache of impatience shows itself in the low but breathy dip in Minjeong’s voice, “Kiss me if you’ve missed me so much then.”

(This is not a request, nor is it a command. Minjeong doesn’t need to say it twice, she doesn’t even need to go a second longer without.

This, Jimin understands, is a demand. And who is she to disobey Minjeong when she’s been craving her just as much?

She’s not an idiot.)

Rolling her onto her back and straddling her hips, Jimin deeply kisses her like she’s trying to take away her breath, replace Minjeong’s nagging thoughts with nothing but ones of her—kiss away her fears and insecurities and doubts, show her she’s missed her enough to last a lifetime and then some.

Minjeong, hands under her shirt and splayed along the strong, rippling muscles of her back, slowly drags her blunt nails down it. Though Jimin briefly pulls away to hiss at the sensation, she welcomes it. It briefly stings and leaves a wake of heat in its path but it doesn’t hurt. It’s enough to remind Jimin that this is real—that this raw moment of affection and consolation isn’t a dream or fantasy she’s having to cope with feeling distant from the person she loves most.

(Desire is a taste, a slick tongue slipping into her mouth, a quiet moan that’s swallowed like it’s hers to breathe and have.

Desire tastes like strawberries, sounds like Minjeong when her breath hitches and gasps out her name, feels like hands tugging on her hair like it’s solely hers to touch and pull and twirl between long, lithe fingers.

Jimin thinks desire’s at its best when there’s this much love that fuels it.)

Kissing Minjeong is a far better activity than arguing with her. Fighting with her is one of the most difficult things the universe has come up with but, damn, does the reconciliation feel so fucking divine.

Jimin knows she couldn’t possibly give up on Minjeong. A kiss like that could persuade her if she was an idiot who thought differently. It’s an excellent reinforcement though. The healing that washes over her is like being able to breathe again. With nothing to hide, for the first time in a while, Jimin loves with complete peace and levity in her heart—not an ounce of guilt, just a pure, devoted thing of adoration and tenderness.

She can’t give Minjeong up either. If there is a moment where she can be selfish, it would be her desire to stay by Minjeong’s side. Jimin would do everything she could to receive her love and care, to be worthy of Minjeong’s efforts and heart. To prove to her that she’s chosen the right person.

As long as she lives, she would do exactly that. She would try her damn best to take care of Minjeong’s heart—to give her love a place to go, so that she never feels alone. If she were to be the air in her lungs, just as Minjeong is hers, she would do everything to keep her safe.

-.-.-

Peaceful days are starting to come back. Jimin’s had more normal days than she’s had weird ones. She’s eternally grateful for it. Even Minjeong’s coping with everything with more ease and grace. Not to say that it’s easy, but Jimin’s happy to alleviate whatever weight that she can for her.

They’ve been smoothing out the kinks left behind, working through each and every little nuance so that they don’t make the same mistakes again—so that they don’t hurt each other like that ever again.

It’s getting easier with Minjeong and going back to their usual playfulness and mischief—the bantering and freedom that Jimin loves about their relationship, loves finding in Minjeong. While they have their hard days, she doesn’t fear them. If she’s being honest, she appreciates them. Though they exhaust her, it’s their hard days that make their easy ones so heavenly. The harmony they’re finding in each other again is a reward. A gift that keeps giving. 

Jimin doesn’t dream about the bombing at city hall as much. Sometimes, it comes back to her, but Minjeong’s promised she’s always a call away—a couple swings away. (Jimin’s already made good on that offer, swung her way to Minjeong’s late at night in her dark sweats and pouted to be a little spoon that requires to be held by her just to have a chance at getting a restful sleep.)

Currently, they’re at Jimin’s place enjoying-but-not-enjoying a movie. Meaning they’ve found a justification to make out for no reason other than just because. Because, hello!, that’s what their lips are for when they’ve been deprived of kissing each other.

Jimin’s too blissed out and hopped up on Minjeong’s warmth and doting affection to hear the worry in Yizhuo’s voice when she picks up her call. “Jimin, I found something. You’ll want to see this.”

“Why?” She tried to hide the dry bluntness in her voice, but she’s sure it’s a sad attempt. Yizhuo understands. Probably. She’ll tease her about it later. Most definitely. Jimin will happily accept the karma. (Although weeks have passed since their reconciliation, she’s very much busy with annoying Minjeong and more than making up for their lost time and clinging to her girlfriend like a needy koala.)

“It…it has to do with your sister,” Yizhuo pauses. “I- I found stuff on Mister Li’s drives.”

Jimin’s blood freezes, icy and cold. 

There’s always something, isn’t there?