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Jungkook’s blood boiled close to the surface of his skin. It slowly built up, emotions stacking on top of one another until he was sure he would soon topple over into crazy or implode.
Jimin was his to tease and touch. Well, fine—there was some trust to be had with the other members, but did Hoseok’s face have to be that close to Jimin’s? And did he have to lean in like that with their noses nearly touching? Did Hoseok have to catch Jungkook’s boyfriend’s gaze like that?
And did their fans at the fansign have to coo over it?
“You’re staring,” Yoongi whispered into his ear, kicking his leg under the table. “Smile. We’re in front of fans.”
Jungkook clenched his jaw and faced away from the fanservice taking place at the other end of the table, just in time for a fan to scoot over and slide her copy of their latest mini-album in front of him. For a second, he wondered what color she had purchased; all he saw was red.
On Jungkook’s other side was Taehyung, who was also quick to notice Jungkook’s change of mood. He hit the younger’s arm with the back of his hand, as if to say, You’ll get to be with him soon enough.
But Jungkook wasn’t always patient. Despite the glance of disapproval from Yoongi, he leaned back to get a better glance at Jimin and Hoseok after signing the fan’s album photobook.
His boyfriend and his other hyung were both occupied with signing things for fans.
But they’re still way too close, Jungkook thought with frustration, vigilant of the way they leaned into each other in the midst of their own signings, shoulders pressed against one another’s, Jimin giggling so cutely at whatever Hoseok commented with, their hyung’s nose nearly touching Jungkook’s boyfriend’s sweet cheek as he laughed.
Mine, he thought possessively. Jimin-hyung is mine.
“Can you trust me, can you trust me,” Taehyung sang under his breath, giving Jungkook a very pointed look before turning back to the fan talking to him.
Yes, yes, Jungkook got it—anymore obviousness and he would get into trouble. Again. It was enough that he and Jimin had to be seated separately now because they tended to focus on each other more than the fans at past signings.
Why can’t it be considered fanservice, too? he wondered bitterly. Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok got away with copious amounts of affection for the other members without a bat of an eye.
“Jungkook-ah.”
The maknae jumped.
Taehyung-hyung. With a microphone. Sometimes he forgot how unbelievably loud and deep his voice got when using one.
Jungkook turned his head to look at him.
“Our fan here wants us to do the handshake,” Taehyung explained. “Let’s do it. Come on, Jungkook-ah.”
“Why did you need a mic to say that?”
Taehyung tossed him a withering look, eyes shifting to the side, as if trying to gesture to the end of the table. At Jimin. Who was likely to hear them because of the microphone.
“Right,” was all Jungkook said. Why didn’t he think of that?
But Jungkook noticed, as they performed it for their cheering, squealing fans, was that Jimin didn’t even care. His smile was amused at best.
You’ve been jealous before, Jungkook thought, frowning as he and Taehyung returned to their seats. Back then Jimin had sharp glares and wary frowns. His jealousy had been so obvious that it was palpable.
Jungkookie is mine, he probably thought at the time, just as Jungkook was doing now.
But nothing like that has happened lately. Jungkook wanted to think it was because Jimin was secure in his relationship with him, but his paranoia continued to hiss in his ear, telling him that Jimin’s love wasn’t as strong as when they started dating, that Jimin was more comfortable with everyone else but him, that being with Jungkook wasn’t what he hoped it would be.
But he’s mine, he argued, somewhat weakly, to the invisible devil on his shoulder. He’s mine and he loves me.
“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung muttered, pinching his arm to catch his attention. “You have a fan waiting for you.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Jungkook returned to doing his job. He managed to keep Jimin pushed to the very back of his mind, and for a while it was all right. Jungkook would be over this, and when the signing was over, he could sneak kisses onto his boyfriend and everything would be fine.
He flipped open yet another album photobook slid out in front of him and looked up, catching the fan’s gaze; a girl younger than him, she looked like; with wide, bold, dark eyes.
“Hello,” Jungkook greeted, pasting his megawatt-smile on his face.
“Jungkook-oppa,” she spoke up confidently, her smile suddenly looking smug rather than excited about meeting him. “Why do you hate Jimin-oppa?”
Jungkook’s smile wavered, and he felt his heart drop to his stomach.
People still said that?
“I-I don’t hate him,” he answered in a stammer, too angry and flustered to speak smoothly. “How could I hate a hyung like that?”
He tried to sound suave and flirtatious like he was supposed to be at these things—he really did—but comment kept playing in his head and made his chest ache, undulating within his body as his mind began to fill with whatever he could have done to make Jimin feel rejected.
“Oppa kept glaring at him.”
Jungkook forced a laugh. If this girl only knew.
He pressed his marker harder into the page than he intended, in an attempt to steady his hand as he signed and answered her Post-It questions. He felt bad that the ink probably bled through the paper, but god, he was trying his damnedest to keep himself together because things like this made him mad.
“Jiminnie-hyung is good to me,” he insisted. “All my hyungs are.” He passed the book to Yoongi.
“Oppa seems to have a better relationship with Yoongi-oppa,” the girl declared, looking between the two of them. “How many lamb skewers has he bought you?”
Yoongi chuckled uneasily as he picked up her photobook, a tad offended for Jungkook’s sake.
“A lot,” Yoongi answered, as he flipped open to a page to sign. “Like I do for all my dongsaengs. Jungkookie likes to spend his time eating out with Jiminnie a lot, too.”
“Ah, really? They’d look weird, I think.”
Weird, Jungkook echoed silently, pursing his lips together to keep from commenting. Jimin-hyung and I are weird together.
Yoongi was brief about his time with that fan. After she moved on, he turned to Jungkook with a quirk of his brow as if to say, hey, I tried.
Jungkook was grateful for Yoongi’s help, but it did nothing to ease his inner turmoil. His mood for the rest of the signing was ruined.
The boys arrived home. Getting back felt normal, with Jungkook tucked into Jimin’s side in the van seat and making small talk along the way. Jungkook couldn’t tell if there was something hanging between them, or if it was just his own insecurity. It was likely the latter, because Jimin was so normal.
Nonetheless, Jimin could tell something was wrong, because when they entered the dorm, he set his bag down on the couch and headed straight for… Jungkook’s room.
Jungkook knew instantly to follow and did so, avoiding the odd looks from the rest of the members.
He shut the door behind him. It was dark here except for the moonlight pouring through the thick, half-open blinds.
Jimin remained beautifully radiant in Jungkook’s eyes; even as the younger towered over his shorter boyfriend, shadowing him.
Jimin laid a hand against Jungkook’s chest tentatively, testing the waters. He let it run soothingly down to his abdomen, and then over to his waist, where it stopped to rest. His hyung meant for the touch to comfort him, but fiery passion overcame Jungkook instead, and not the erotic kind. It was his love for Jimin, so intense that it was almost painful.
Mine, Jungkook thought suddenly, crushing Jimin against him, his arms hooked around his shoulders and lips pressed against his head.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin murmured, confused by the sudden affection.
All he received in response was Jungkook hugging him tighter, face buried in his fluffy vibrant hair for a second, longer kiss.
Mine.
“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked.
“I hate sharing you,” Jungkook admitted quietly, refusing to look at him.
Jimin chuckled. His hands slipped comfortably around his waist. “Ah, my possessive Jungkookie.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook whined, his voice even softer than before, as if his words carried secrets. It wasn’t what he said that was the secret, though; it was the incredibly affectionate lilts in his tone he allowed only Jimin to hear.
“Did something make you jealous today?”
“Kind of…”
“Kind of?” Jimin repeated, pulling back to look up at him with raised brows. “What else made you so irritated earlier?”
Jungkook scowled derisively.
Jimin caressed his lower back with gentle, coaxing fingers. “Jungkook-ah, don’t do that. Talk to me.”
His hair was so soft, silky, and enticingly aromatic that Jungkook couldn’t help nuzzling his face against it as he murmured, “I was so mad at you.”
“Me?”
“And at Hoseok-hyung. And Jin-hyung after he hugged you at the end.”
“Jungkook-ah, you know I love you the most,” Jimin told him in a fond voice. “Fanservice is part of our job, remember?”
“I know it’s stupid,” Jungkook said quietly. “But I just…”
I felt needy.
And what the fan said only made it worse.
“You love me this much to get jealous like that, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin teased. “What will the fans say?”
“Why do you hate Jimin-oppa?” Jungkook's memory taunted him.
“Don’t you dare buy into that me-hating-you bullshit, hyung.”
Jimin immediately tilted his face up to look at him. “Whoa… what happened?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook grumbled, in hopes of lightening up the worry on Jimin’s face, but it only deepened the wrinkles in his forehead and Jungkook’s frown. “This fan asked me why I still hated you, then had the gall to say that my relationship with Yoongi-hyung was better and that you and I looked weird together.”
“A fan said that to you?”
“Yes,” Jungkook sighed.
“Why are you bothered by—”
“Because all you do is mess around with Hoseokie-hyung and it hurts watching you be so close to him in front of fans and not me.”
Jungkook moved back from Jimin and plopped himself down on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his legs. His fingers ran frustratingly through his hair.
He heard Jimin step forward until he stood right over him, their knees almost touching.
“Jungkook-ah, I’m sorr—”
“I know why we do this, hyung,” Jungkook interrupted him, voice thick with emotion. He buried his face in his hands. “Do you know how many times the staff’s scolded us ever since we got together? Too real, they tell us. How the fucking hell do we look too real?”
Jimin combed his hand through Jungkook’s hair. “I don’t know. But I guess you and I see ourselves differently than how everyone else sees us.”
“I hate this industry sometimes.”
“It’s difficult and inconsistent. I know. But we can handle it. Just remember that I’ll always love you. You’re my Jungkookie and you’re worth all this trouble.”
Jungkook lifted his gaze to Jimin. Adorable, mischievous, selfless Jimin with the beautiful eye-smile and a heart of gold. His Jimin, who did everything for him since they first began their idol journey together, who could have found something easier that didn’t need to be hidden or someone who wasn’t reserved or scared of confrontation. He could have had anyone but he wanted him.
The younger realized that he could deal with all the secrecy and facades of fanservice; all of it in exchange for the love of a young man in front of him, even if it hurt sometimes. No question about it. He was worth all this trouble, too.
“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, feeling better. “We can handle it.”
Jimin stepped between Jungkook’s legs so he could close their distance, turning the hair strokes into an embrace and soothing words into kisses against the top of his head.
And Jungkook thought to himself, with gentle pride this time, as he slid his arms around Jimin, Mine.