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Chapter Text

Quick steps rain down the rust-colored track as Jungkook sprints to the finish line without so much as a glance towards his opponent. Never get distracted, never look back. Jungkook's an athlete in every sense of the word, and he treats every game like it's the championships. He bursts past the finish line with the widest grin on his face and finally allows his gaze to move from the horizon to the giggling boy stopping next to him with his hands on his knees. The summer sun makes the boy's hair gleam as he moves his head to look at Jungkook.

"One day, I'll beat you. I just know it," the boy says good-naturedly, and Jungkook throws his head back in laughter at the challenge.

"Keep telling yourself that. You'll only beat me in your dreams," he teases, but the boy only smiles, straightening up.

"Maybe, Kookie, maybe," he says, but this time it's soft, wistful, and before Jungkook can say anything, the boy's tugging on his arm and dragging him to the vending machine.

"It's my treat this time! Dad's been getting lucky recently, so we won't have to worry about money for a while," the boy states, inserting a couple coins into the vending machine and reaching down to grab their drinks. Jungkook takes the can of coke from his hands, right as the boy's phone starts to ring. He watches as he glances at the caller ID and promptly rejects the call, face souring significantly.

"Your dad?" Jungkook asks, as if he doesn't already know.

"He's been getting worse, Kookie. To be honest, it's scaring me," he says, voice nearly a whisper as he cracks open his drink and takes a large gulp. He lets out a loud exhale as the carbonated drink runs down his throat before roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're damn lucky, Jungkook. I hope you know that."

---------------

The worst feeling, in Jungkook's opinion, is waking up to find silk pajamas stuck to his back, arms, and thighs, his heart beating in his chest like a bomb about to explode. He tugs his matted bangs away from his forehead. He never wanted bangs in the first place, but his last role as a smitten high school boy in a well-paying Korean drama forces him to keep up a softer, younger appearance. He lets his head rest on soft, warm sheets for a few moments longer as he catches his breath. Dreams aren't new to Jungkook; he's been having them for as long as he can remember, but while others dream of improbable things, Jungkook's dreams have always been boringly normal and shockingly real, almost like at one point, he really was the Jungkook in his dreams.

Jungkook's never dreamed of the boy. Not until a couple weeks ago when he started appearing more and more frequently in Jungkook's mind. He lets out a long breath as he recalls the boy's appearance: pitch black hair, a small nose, and eyes that portrayed smiles better than his mouth could. He shakes the image away from his mind and dispels the ringing of his soft voice from his sleep-addled brain. If there's one thing Jungkook's learned throughout the years, it's to never pay attention to his dreams.

He shuts his alarm off before it can ring and grimaces as he peels his sweaty pajamas off his tired body. Jungkook changes into sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt before scowling at his reflection in the mirror. He looks like shit, and he knows it. The realer his dreams feel, the harder it is for him to sleep, and the bags under his eyes are a huge tell of just how little actual sleep he was getting.

"Looking bad as a celebrity only stirs rumors," Jungkook spits at his appearance, quoting his manager's words. Jin was right of course. Jungkook has to look good at all times, it's his livelihood after all, and these bags weren't going to cut it. Jungkook scoffs, and shrugs a thin sports jacket on before shoving his earphones in and going out for a morning jog. Jogging is one of the few things Jungkook actually enjoys. He likes the rhythmic pace of his feet on the ground. He likes the feeling of being solid, grounded, but at the same time feeling like if he ran, truly ran, maybe he could fly. He lets his feet take him around the city in a trail he knows so well, and it strikes him, like it always does, how right if felt to be in motion, how familiar it felt to move one foot in front of the other until he reaches the very end.

Jungkook arrives back home in no time, and he briefly considers extending his route next time before dismissing it as a matter for tomorrow. When he lets himself back in, Jin's sitting on his spotless white couch, eating a slice of mango crepe cake Jungkook bought for himself. Guess this day wasn't gonna be a day off after all. The broad-shouldered manager turns to look at Jungkook when he hears his footsteps approaching.

"Jungkook, I've got new prospective roles for you. With your status, I'm pretty sure they'll cast you with little fuss, so it's pretty much just up to you which one you wanna star in," Jin says to the young man.

Jungkook allows an unflattering frown to distort his features. "Hyung, I told you I'm taking a break," he hisses before moving to walk towards his bedroom.

"And I told you that's a bad idea. You're at the peak of your career, it's good to constantly appear in movies," Jin insists.

Jungkook snorts, "I've been at the top for years, Jin hyung. I daresay I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

He shrugs his sweaty jacket off and tosses it into the laundry basket as he steps into the restroom. He wishes Jin would just let him destroy his own career, but he knows it's in Jin's best interest as well if his charge doesn't run out of jobs. Jungkook takes quite a bit to shower, secretly hoping Jin would be gone by the time he comes out, but he knows Jin would be there because that man's persistent and determined and freaking unstoppable. It's why Jungkook has a feeling Jin will stay for a while, unlike those that quit after Jungkook's hostile attitude became too much.

He sits across from Jin, drying his hair with a soft blue towel. Jin gazes at him for a bit, as if he's considering something, before reaching into his document holder and pulling out a thick pile of scripts. Jungkook rolls his eyes, resting his bare feet on the glass table, knowing it'll irk the other man. "What's this?" he asks, faking cluelessness.

The thing that Jungkook hates the most about Jin is how composed he is. Jungkook can try to rile the other man up for hours, and the most he'll get is a displeased quirk of the lips. Did the man have to be so unflappable? Jin says nothing, barely even glancing at Jungkook's feet and insouciant posture.

"At least read through them. You'll definitely like at least one," Jin says, voice remaining neutral. Jungkook can feel his expression darken at a lack of reaction before he hastily grabs the stack of papers and slams then down on his lap.

"I said I wanted a break, hyung," Jungkook says, voice lowering angrily.

"I'm sorry, but that's not an option right now. I promise after this, you'll get a well-deserved break."

Jungkook huffs in exasperation. Jin's right, of course. Even Jungkook knows that being at the top is not a long-term thing, and he should milk every single cent out of his popularity. Years of being a child actor, years of crawling up to the top, and years of finally being at the top has taught him everything about the industry. Fans are fickle. Jungkook knows they'll turn at the first scandal, at the first signs of inadequacy, so he begrudgingly thumbs through the stack, making sure to keep his scowl in place, letting Jin know he's not happy.

Jungkook eyes the first script on the stack. "Who's directing this?" he asks, lifting the script up and reading the title, "'Secret Love'. Sounds fucking cheesy." He throws it back onto the table.

"You didn't even read through it," Jin comments.

"The title sucks," Jungkook replies disinterestedly, "And that director and I don't get along."

Jin lets out a long-suffering sigh. Jungkook tilts his head. Jin must be having a particularly bad day if he's actually showing signs of distress. He stifles a grin and continues to throw script after script back onto the table.

"Why are these all so bad, hyung?" Jungkook asks, not really expecting a reply. He doesn't get one either.

Jungkook looks at the next script on the list and tilts his head in interest. "Min Yoongi's directing this?"

Jin gives him a nod. "That's a good one, actually. I like it myself. It's not a love story though, more coming of age."

Jungkook nods slowly in consideration as he places it into a "to-consider" pile which only consisted of one other script. He runs through the rest in no time and leans back on the couch. "I'll read through these," he says, "You can go now."

Jin neatly places all the scripts back in his proper little document holder and gives Jungkook a proper little greeting before leaving. Jungkook scowls for what feels like the millionth time that day. Jin was always so proper, and it made Jungkook feel like a child. He grabs himself some yogurt from the fridge and regrets that he doesn't have ice cream or chocolate or any of that fun stuff. Instead, he has pre-packed salads, fresh fruit juice, and uncooked vegetables. The only thing that could have been remotely good was the mango crepe cake, and Jin ate it. He slams the door a lot harder than he meant to and polishes his yogurt off a lot faster than he meant to as well. He flops back onto his bed, paying no attention to his still drying hair and drifts back off to sleep.

---------------

Jungkook's running again, but this time, he's not on the track. There's no vibrant green field in the middle or white lines painted over rust-colored paths. There's no finish line. Jungkook's exiting a warm restaurant, worn down from years of usage, and he can smell the scent of meat being cooked lingering as the door slams behind him. Jungkook pushes past people on the street, jumping over uneven ground, only paying attention to the voice from his phone ringing in his ear.

"Come on, Kookie," the voice says, and Jungkook knows it's the boy. "Run faster. You're my little champion... Oh, Kookie, but this time you're not gonna win."

"Don't! Don't go anywhere, please. Just wait for me, I'll be there! Trust me okay, trust me," Jungkook yells into his phone. His voice is strangled and cracking from the sheer volume of his words, and he can feel the alcohol in his system making his limbs clumsy and slow. He curses into the night air as he hears choked sobs through the phone.

"Kookie, I'm finally gonna win. Aren't you happy for me?" the boy says, voice cracking and shaky. Jungkook thinks he hears hints of slurring, and he wonders if the boy's just as drunk as he is. Jungkook wonders if the boy knows what he's doing.

"Fuck, it doesn't matter! I'll let you win a million times over please don't do this!" Jungkook yells desperately.

He keeps talking to the boy, dissuading him from doing anything until he's finally there. He can see the boy's shorter form, spine curved and shaking. It's the same black hair, the same expressive eyes, the same nose and lips and soft cheeks. He turns around when he sees Jungkook and smiles so sadly it breaks his heart. "Jungkook, since you're faster, let's even it out a little bit, huh?" the boy says, sounding as if it took everything in him not to choke on his words.

Jungkook finds himself shaking as well, tears spilling from wide eyes. He's shaking his head desperately, trying to get the boy to stop talking, stop crying. "I'll run from here, and you'll run from there. I'm sure I'll win this time, just a little headstart," the boy says with a hauntingly tragic smile.

"I don't want you to win," Jungkook sobs out brokenly when he finally finds his voice.

"On the count of three now, Kookie," the boy says gently, "One... Two... Three."

Jungkook watches as the boy runs, runs like death itself was at his heels, and Jungkook's numb legs don't move fast enough, turning against Jungkook when he needs them most, and he can do nothing but run clumsily as he watches the boy win against him for the first and last time.

---------------

"Shit," Jungkook says groggily. He wakes up with a massive headache and tears spilling over his cheeks. It's been a while since he woke up upset over a dream. He remembers crying when he dreamt about breaking his wrist because the pain had felt so real to him that he had to check if his wrist was actually okay. He remembers crying when he dreamt about his dog dying while he was away at a track and field tournament because he had envisioned the dog so clearly in his mind that he wondered if maybe he owned one in a past life. He remembers crying for a reason he doesn't know just that his chest felt heavy and painful, like something was tightening itself around him and stopping the in and out of air from his lungs. He hasn't had those in a while, just short pleasant dreams about winning competitions or attending high school prom or eating convenience store ramen out on the street with the boy. None of the dreams were memories he could recall, but he doesn't mind, as long as they don't leave him waking up in the middle of the night in tears and hysterics. He wipes the remaining tears on his face and walks to the kitchen to down a glass of water.

"I must have betrayed my country in the past if I'm getting dreams like this," Jungkook says hoarsely, laughing without humor. The water slides down his throat easily, and Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief. He wishes he could down a bottle of soju or even a can of coke, but those stupid fucking diets they always have him on prevent him from going out and grabbing one on a whim. He lets his knees go weak and props himself up with his marble counter. He hopes his dreams wouldn't get worse since he could use any ounce of sleep and sanity he can get when he picks up his next big project.

Jungkook places the glass in the dishwasher, cringing at the thud it makes. The headache that's been pounding behind his left eye is still as persistent as ever, like it always is whenever he cries. He sits back on the couch and groans loudly, picking up the first script he set aside. 'Morning Glory' is printed boldly across the pristine white sheet, and Jungkook impatiently flips the page. He squints down at the tiny text, frowning. It's exactly like every other role he's had, Jungkook thinks, and the younger him would have chosen it in a heartbeat. It would be easy, so easy, but Jungkook's spent most of his life in this industry, and he's reached a point where he's just so bored. He doesn't wanna play another rich heir or popular school boy or smitten prince from the Silla dynasty. He want something new, interesting.

Jungkook puts the script aside, settling onto the couch that's too expensive to be comfortable. He grabs the only other script left and reminds himself not to get his hopes up.

"Min Yoongi," Jungkook says thoughtfully. Yoongi's new to the industry, but Jungkook's watched his first movie and found it positively scandalous. It was filled with crime and corruption and brutality and injustice, and Jungkook just knows that if this movie is anything like that one, he'd be more than willing to play the role. He breezed through the synopsis earlier while Jin was around, and Jungkook can already tell it's a much tamer work, but if Yoongi can keep his raw, tasteful directing style in this movie as well, he'll give it a try. He opens the work, fully expecting a proper script but coming face to face with a few descriptions, a vague storyline, and some glossed-over dialogue. Jungkook sighs. Not receiving a full script until being cast is rare but not new to Jungkook, and oftentimes, he absolutely hates it because he wants to know exactly what he's taking on, not a vague, shielded version of his role. Who's he going to spread the storyline to anyway, Jin?

Jungkook grabs his phone to call Jin, and it comes as no surprise to him that the man's picking up on the second ring.

"Jungkook? Any problems?"

"Jin hyung, did they really not send a full script for 'Finish Line'?"

"Min Yoongi's film? From what I recall, no," comes Jin's reply.

Jungkook groans into the line, "Why are producers so paranoid these days, hyung? It's such an inconvenience."

He hears Jin chuckle through the line before the manager responds. "You know how it is these days, everything's being leaked. How's 'Morning Glory'? That's right up your alley," Jin says.

"Boring. Cheesy. I don't want it. 'Finish Line' though, I'm interested in. When are auditions?" Jungkook asks, secretly hoping Jin wouldn't try talking him out of a potentially risky role.

"Next week, Monday, actually. Should I give them a heads up?"

"Please do. Also, I don't feel like going to the press conference tomorrow. Any way to get out of that?" Jungkook asks because he can't let a single conversation with Jin pass without riling him up.

"I'm afraid you have to attend," Jin says blandly, and Jungkook wonders if the man has an actual personality.

"Hey, hyung. You're not gonna stop me from taking this role?" Jungkook asks because truthfully, he's a little confused. Jin hasn't been his manager for long, maybe a grand total of four months, basically ever since Jungkook threw a hissy fit over having to redo a couple of scenes from his last movie because the camera angle apparently looked wrong. After that, his manager just gave up and in comes Kim Seokjin with an unbreakable aura of calm indifference. None of Jungkook's past managers would ever allow him to take something that could potentially put him under public scrutiny, and with Min Yoongi's reputation alone, this role was exactly that.

"You're 20 now, Jungkook. I think you're entitled to your own decisions, and it's good for you, as an artist, to grow," Jin says after a beat of silence. Jungkook finds himself momentarily baffled. He can never figure Jin out.

After a moment of hesitation, Jungkook ends the call with a quick "whatever you say" before settling back on the couch and turning the television on. He's determined not to sleep tonight. If Jungkook's hunch is right, his bad dreams are coming back with a renewed vengeance and an increasingly creative plot. Maybe when he got too old to play cute boys in films for teenaged girls, he'd make a story out of it and retire with dignity. He watches the news for a while, videos of famous celebrities and politicians following images of bombings and attacks sliding past Jungkook's glazed eyes before he finally changes the channel. Food channel, fuck. Jungkook's stomach growls loudly, and he remembers he hasn't eaten yet. All he's had today was a measly yogurt, and he can feel the hunger stabbing at his stomach. He doesn't feel like eating another healthy salad today, so he shuts the TV off and tries to be presentable enough to justify any photos of him grabbing burgers in sweatpants at 10 pm on a Thursday night. He tugs a cap onto his dyed brown hair to go stuff himself with junk food. What Jin doesn't know won't kill him.

When he arrives at the new burger joint a couple streets away from his house, he's rather surprised he hasn't been recognized yet. He flashes a pleasant smile to the girl behind the counter. She looks young, probably still in high school, and Jungkook prays with his entire soul that the girl doesn't recognize him. She looks back up at him, delivering an empty half-smile back, as if working at a burger joint has taken every bit of soul from her. Jungkook wonders if high school is harder nowadays or if working at fast food restaurants could fry your brain cells into oblivion, but he decides it's wiser not to ask and just quickly order, so he can get out of the girl's face.

"I'd like two of set meal number 4, both with upsized drinks. Make that Diet Coke instead of Coke please. I want a sundae too, oh, and make the fries large with extra barbecue powder. Actually, can you make that cheese flavored instead? Thanks, and please add two apple pies too," Jungkook says, mouth watering at the prospect of hot, greasy food.

The girl stares at him with such a judgmental expression that Jungkook actually shrinks away a bit before mumbling a soft, "Um, I'm sharing these with friends, of course." She only gives him another empty half-smile, "Would you like that to-go?"

Jungkook only nods and the girl brings him his order after a while. He rushes out of there like he's being chased and speed walks back to his home. When he finally gets to nestle into his soft, expensive sheets, he turns the TV back on, this time switching to a foreign channel. He shoves palmfuls of fries into his mouth as he mimics the English dialogue on screen. By the time he's finished with his meal, he feels like a bloated fish, and he makes his way to the restroom, throwing greasy fast food packaging into the trash can by the toilet. He leans against the cold white walls, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He shouldn't have eaten all that food because now he can feel his eyes start to droop and his body start to get sluggish. He glances at the time and it's nearly midnight. Jungkook shakes his incoming food coma off and decides to jump into the shower. He wasn't going to cave. He wasn't going to sleep.

The water's hot enough to tint his skin with a bit of pink, just the way Jungkook likes it. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets his dreams play around in his mind. The very first dream Jungkook is able to remember is being a small preschooler in his first day of school. He remembers little dream Jungkook was so nervous about being alone and not being able to look anyone in the eye. It made sense though since little dream Jungkook was at the height of other people's legs, so he'd have to look way up to make eye contact. His dreams increased in frequency when he was in high school, and he mostly dreamt about a teenaged Jungkook who was friendly and well-liked, with limbs too long for his body. One of his most prominent dreams is standing on a track and field for the first time, and Jungkook doesn't fully know how he knew it was dream Jungkook's first time. Dream Jungkook knew; therefore, Jungkook knew. He remembers standing there with the bright summer sun beating down on his back, eyes probably sparkling as he surveys the freshly watered grass and the crisp lines ahead of him.

It all seems perfectly normal if you think about it. Normal dreams, recollections of past events, but Jungkook knows he never attended preschool because his parents thought homeschooling was the way to go. A more flexible schedule equals more time to audition for roles and get cast into a nice movie or drama. Jungkook knows that when his parents finally let him attend a proper school, he was more reserved than anything and made a grand total of zero lasting friendships. It didn't matter then because he was already a known actor at the time and barely attended school anyway. Another thing that Jungkook knows for sure is that he never got into track. He doesn't remember crouching down "on your marks" or breaking through the finish line except for in his dreams. Maybe none of this would have been all that concerning if Jungkook didn't wake up with burning lungs, tired legs, and sweat running down his whole body. After track nights, Jungkook always wakes up with adrenaline running through his veins like a high that he can only get rid of after jogging in the morning.

When Jungkook opens his eyes again, he's reminded of how good it is to live in a place where hot water doesn't run out. He enjoys the water a few moments more before finally stepping out and getting into a pair of cotton pajamas with a matching top. He makes himself a cup of green tea, mostly out of guilt from all the greasy food he just ate, burrowing back into his bed in front of the large TV that's still spouting some dramatic foreign dialogue Jungkook's given up on replicating. He glances at the clock to his right and frowns. It's 1 am now, and Jungkook wonders why time is moving so slowly. He watches the hand move jerkily from point to point, so slowly that Jungkook's sure it's mocking him for wanting morning to come fast.

In the middle of drinking his tea and watching the clock and letting some dramatized statements wash over his ears, Jungkook finds his eyes drifting shut again, and this time, he gives in, letting sleep take him.

---------------

"Jungkook, can I come over?" a small voice comes through Jungkook's beat up phone, and there's no mistaking that it's the boy. He's on a battered couch, leather starting to crack with years of use, and a large bowl of chips on his lap. He can still feel the soreness in his calves from training earlier today. He switches to the sports channel, watching some basketball players from local teams sprint from court to court.

"Miss me already?" Jungkook's tone is teasing, "We just met up earlier today."

"Please, Kookie," the boy says, and there's something about his tone that tells Jungkook not to ignore him.

"Sure, you never ask for permission to come over anyway," Jungkook says, trying to keep his voice casual. He pops another chip into his mouth and hopes the boy couldn't pick up on his change in mood. He hears rustling from the other end of the line before it goes dead, and Jungkook just knows that the boy never does that, never hangs up without saying goodbye.

There are frantic knocks on his door minutes later, and when Jungkook finally pulls it open to reveal the guest, the boy's standing there looking frazzled and on edge.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks when they're back on the couch, and he's offering chips to the boy in an effort to make him feel better.

He only shakes his head, lightly pushing the bowl of chips away, "Dad's being a shit again."

"I thought you guys were doing well?" Jungkook says softly.

"Doing well? If you mean I'm not going to college next year is doing well then I guess," he says, and his tone is venomous, so unlike the giggles behind him on the track or the sweet challenges said while sweat runs down his face.

"What do you mean, Jimin? You've been so excited about this. We're even attending the same university!" Jungkook says, voice rising in shock.

The boy, Jimin apparently, doesn't answer for a while, but Jungkook can feel him trembling beside him.

"We've got it all planned out. It was perfect!" Jungkook says when it becomes obvious Jimin's not up to speaking. He lifts Jimin's lowered head and looks him in the eye, expecting an explanation, maybe some tears, but Jimin only shoves his hand away, a flash of what looks like anger or frustration sparking up in his eyes.

"Yeah, well life isn't fucking perfect, Kook. Sometimes everything's going fine until your dad fucks up again, and everything goes to shit. Jungkook, you know my life is one big gamble. My future literally relies on whether or not dad's feeling lucky. Guess what? He's not, hasn't been for a while, so I can't fucking go to uni anymore because he fucked that up for me as well," Jimin says in one breath, face reddening in indignation.

"That's so shitty," Jungkook says because it is, and it's unfair, and Jimin deserves to get into university because he's worked so damn hard to get so damn good. "Could you get a scholarship?" he asks softly, trying not to upset him more.

"Scholarship?" Jimin scoffs. "If I was up for a scholarship, I would have known by now, and I'm certainly not smart enough to get in with exceptional grades. I'm screwed, Kook, fucking screwed. This is so unfair, I don't deserve this. I wish I had your life instead."

"So what are you gonna do, just give up?" Jungkook says, voice taking on a slightly defensive edge.

"That's what the world's telling me to do," Jimin says, deflating a little, like he's more tired than anything.

"The world's not telling you anything. It's just going around like it always does, it doesn't give any actual signs. It doesn't give enough shits for that. You're just reading into it and telling yourself to give up," Jungkook says.

"Well, fuck you too, then," Jimin says before grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing his face. Jungkook lets silence invade the room before grabbing the remote and switching the channel. It's some old movie from the 90s that Jungkook certainly can't remember. He leans back onto the couch as well.

"Let's talk about this next time, yeah?" Jungkook says, and Jimin gives him a small nod in return. He can't help but feel like that was the wrong thing to do, like he should've talked to him about it now instead of letting the on screen dialogue drown out their argument.

---------------

"You don't look very good today," Jin says as he surveys Jungkook's disheveled appearance. Needless to say, Jungkook didn't sleep very well, so when Jin's waking him up at 7 am to get his hair and makeup done, he's sure he looks like he's been hit by a truck.

"You don't look good any day," Jungkook retorts because apparently he's a five-year-old child. He observes the way Jin's expression twitches and smiles with satisfaction when his lips quirk down just a fraction. He thinks he hears Jin mumble a soft "I'm always handsome", but Jungkook doesn't have the current mental capacity to assess if he's hallucinating from sleep deprivation or not.

When he exits the shower and takes a seat in front of his makeup artist, Jin's standing right behind her, observing Jungkook.

"Did you happen to have a bad dream, Jungkook?" Jin says after moments of consideration.

Jungkook chooses to ignore him while stopping his makeup artist from applying foundation on his bare skin. "Which foundation is this?" he asks.

The girl shows him the bottle, and Jungkook sighs. "Get a different one. This breaks me out."

"I—I don't think I have others in your shade," the girl says, looking slightly terrified.

"Then go grab one," Jungkook snaps. He's not feeling good today, but he'd rather give up his career than talk about his dreams and emotions with Jin.

The girl scrambles out of the loft with promises to grab Jungkook his specific foundation, and he's half-expecting Jin to scold him for being a brat so early in the morning.

"You know, it's rather childish to throw tantrums," Jin says.

"I wasn't throwing a tantrum. She made a mistake, I told her to fix it," Jungkook responds, words laced with irritation.

"There are certain ways to talk properly to your staff, Jungkook. It'll get difficult if people start talking about your behavior," Jin says, and Jungkook feels his defenses rise up and meld together, an automatic response after years in the spotlight.

"Don't worry, hyung," Jungkook says sarcastically, "If it starts spreading that I'm a brat, I'm sure it's my career that's ending, not yours."

Jin frowns, and Jungkook tries not to let it shock him. Jin was actually frowning. "I believe I phrased that incorrectly. I just meant that you have to treat people well, even on your off days. It's the proper thing to do."

Jungkook scoffs, "Right, because I'm a celebrity, and I have to be proper all the time."

"No, Jungkook, because you're a celebrity, and you've always been one. I know that maturing on camera with everyone's eyes on you essentially means you haven't matured at all. I'm teaching you how to deal with things like a proper adult because you'll need it when you're done being a child."

Jungkook takes a sharp breath. No one's ever really spoken to him like that before, the closest being Jimin in his dreams, and he finds that he doesn't like it, being called a child that is. He huffs and crosses his arms.

"What time's the press conference?" Jungkook says, voice slipping back into calculated boredom.

"11 am, sharp. Travel time is around 45 minutes, but we've still got a lot of time actually. We'll grab a quick breakfast along the way."

When Jungkook gets into the car, he's grateful for the small, soft blanket that smells like Jin's perfume draped over the backseat. He's so tempted to face plant onto it and just sleep, but he doesn't want to take the risk of waking up in tears, and even he's not enough of a douchebag to purposefully ruin his stylist's work. He's dressed in a nice, professional-looking suit, and his normally straight hair is textured and pulled apart to showcase a bit of forehead. He drapes the blanket over his knees and scoots over to give Jin some space.

"The usual cafe, please," Jin says to their driver, and Jungkook lets his head tilt back, resting on the leather interiors.

"Are you alright?" Jin asks again, and a part of Jungkook wants to lash out at him for asking, for caring. Jungkook grunts softly in acknowledgment, but Jin only turns to look at him with a serious expression.

"Have you been dreaming again?" Jin asks softly. Jungkook lets a small frown tug at the corners of his lips.

"I'm fine."

"I'm not saying you're not. I just think that it might be a problem if your dreams affect you that much."

"I'm fine," Jungkook grits out, and yesterday's headache is coming back full-force, like a sledgehammer swinging side to side in his skull.

"I can't pretend I don't notice the bags under your eyes. You were mumbling and sweating in your sleep too, I can't say I'm not worried," Jin says, voice firm and unshakeable.

Jungkook lifts his head to give Jin a sharp glare, "It's not your job to worry or to care, hyung."

Jin doesn't say anything after that, and they both let the tension linger in the air, neither trying to lift the mood. The silence remains until the car stops in front of Sonja's, a modern-looking health cafe with glass walls and uncomfortable geometric seats. Jungkook absolutely hates it here. He hates 100% unsweetened fruit juice, the vegan options, the carb-free meals, and although Jungkook hasn't bothered to learn much about Jin, he can tell his manager doesn't like it here either. They grab seats right next to one spotless glass wall, and a server promptly hands them nice, crisp menus with items written in professional-looking font. Jungkook observes how Jin's expression wavers as he glances at all the healthy options and finally settles on a basic wrap with orange juice, and Jungkook finds himself ordering the same thing, like he always does when he eats with Jin. The man always manages to find the tastiest things among the blandest food options, and Jungkook considers himself rather impressed.

Jungkook gets halfway through his meal in silence before Jin's breaking it once again. "I may just be your manager, Kook, but if you're having any trouble, it's okay to call," he says after swallowing a particularly large bite of his wrap. Jungkook stills for a moment because no one calls him Kook, just Jimin, but he shrugs it aside, chomping down on his wrap and drinking some orange juice before gulping it down. He hears Jin sigh, probably over his atrocious table manners, but Jungkook gives him a half-hearted thumbs up to show that he appreciates it, but not enough to actually say thanks. He has a bratty reputation to uphold.

Jin insists on paying for their meal later on, despite Jungkook's protests and frustrated frowns. When he settles back into the car, Jungkook's not even close to full yet, but he figures it's fine because he's used to eating less anyway. When they arrive at the press conference, they're a couple minutes early, and he can see Min Seong Ah, the leading lady in his last film, already seated and waiting with some other cast members. One thing Jungkook hates about press conferences is the feeling that he's about to mess up. They're usually pretty much just longer, more boring interviews, but there's something about the silence with only his voice ringing out and the clicking of a hundred cameras that unnerve him. When he takes the seat next to Seong Ah, she gives him a small smile, and Jungkook appreciates her kindness despite the knowledge that Jungkook was pretty much a brat during the entire filming process.

Basic questions are thrown back and forth, and Jungkook recycles some basic phrases like "it was such an honor to work with such a great cast" and "the filming was really memorable, I have learned a lot". The only interesting answer he gave was to the question of what he'd be taking on next to which he says, "I think I'll try something really different from the roles I've always done. Maybe the next movie I star in won't be a romance."

The press conference ends soon after, and Jungkook tries not to let the camera flashes remind him of winning on the track and getting his photograph taken for the local newspaper because that's dream Jungkook, he chants in his mind, not him.

Jin gets into the car after Jungkook plops himself down onto the seat, shrugging his jacket off and loosening his tie. "Hyung, about dreams, have you ever had ones that seem really real, but you know never happened?" Jungkook says because his dreams have been playing around in his mind since the first flash of the camera, and it's bothering him more than he thought it would.

"Well, I think everyone gets those dreams from time to time," Jin says carefully, as if gauging what exactly Jungkook meant to ask. Jungkook slumps back into his seat, feeling too hot in his Saint Laurent suit because he hadn't expected Jin to understand, and he didn't, but explaining would mean that Jungkook would have to tell Jin that those are the only type of dreams he has, that they're continuous with an actual, drawn out story, and that when he wakes up, he can't tell if they're reality or not for a few long moments.

Jungkook hums under his breath as Jin glances at him and attempts to appear unbothered, like that's the answer he was hoping for.

"I cleared your schedule for the weekend, so all you have to worry about is the casting on Monday. I suggest you practice the scene they gave for a bit, but I'm sure they'll come and discuss the context for you when you get there, so you can act it out properly," Jin says.

Jungkook offers a soft murmur of thanks. He planned to take the rest of the ride in silence, but he finds himself being possessed by an unknown urge, and before he knows it, he asking Jin to eat lunch with him. If Jin's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"Let's have the driver drop us off at my place first, then I'll drive to wherever," Jungkook says. He doesn't feel like eating at another health cafe, and he figures if Jin's the only one that knows, he might get away with it.

When Jin finally gets in Jungkook's car, it's almost one pm, and Jungkook's starving. "Let's get convenience store ramen," Jungkook suggests, starting up the car and feeling the smooth hum of his car underneath his fingers and thighs.

"The company wouldn't like that," Jin says, but it's not a rejection, just a statement.

"Then you grab the ramen, we'll eat in the car, and no one will now," Jungkook says, and for the first time that day, his lips are quirking up into a smile, making him look younger than his age and adding a sparkle of life in his eyes. It's not something you see on Jungkook often, the boy having never really experienced childhood fun before. The prospect of convenience store ramen is exciting to him because he can't even remember the last time he's had it.

Jungkook parks his car in front of a small, homey convenience store with lights open like it's already nighttime. He watches Jin walk around the store, furrowing his eyebrows as he watches him gather stuff he can't see from the car as well. It takes much longer than Jungkook expected for Jin to get back in the car, but he enters with a plastic bag hanging from his right arm while holding two flimsy bowls of hot ramen. Jin hands him one and grins widely as he observes Jungkook open the paper lid. Jungkook notices cheese and what looks to be egg amongst the nice stringy noodles. He inhales deeply and exhales in satisfaction, the scent of artificial flavoring and MSG entering his nose.

"Why are there eggs and cheese, hyung?" Jungkook questions.

"If we're eating ramen and endangering my job, then we're doing it right," Jin says, and Jungkook nearly does a double take at the manager's change in personality. He'd always envisioned the man as a stickler for the rules, but here they are in Jungkook's car, about to inhale the most calorie-filled, heart-attack-inducing ramen.

"Here," Jin says as he reaches into the plastic bag to bring out two cases of instant rice, peeling off the plastic covering and handing it to Jungkook. "Drop this in your ramen, it'll be perfect."

Jungkook drops the rice into his already unhealthy meal, ignoring the splattering of spicy soup onto his car seat. It feels familiar, Jungkook realizes, eating convenience store ramen in the most inconvenient of places. It reminds him of hanging out with Jimin again, but he shakes it off, determined not to think about the fictional boy in his dreams.

He shoves nearly half the bowl of ramen into his mouth and spoons some rice in. His eyes widen as he processes the taste and directs his gaze to Jin who's observing him with a fond smile. "This is so good," Jungkook says, but it's muffled through his mouthful of food, and he almost has soup dribble down his chin. He gulps down the large bite, smiling genuinely, "This is so good, hyung."

"I know," Jin says before shoving ramen into his mouth as well. "I got us coke too, but don't you dare tell the company."

Jungkook groans in the small cramped compartment of his car. "God, hyung, just marry me already," he says, and Jin lets out squeaky laughter. Jungkook finds himself taken aback, so used to his dry chuckles and proper little smiles. He finds himself laughing, more at Jin's laugh than anything. He supposed Jin wasn't too bad.

Chapter Text

"Jungkook, wait up!"

The voice rings in Jungkook's ears as he walks off the field, wiping his sweat. He tries to recall the owner's name without much success, but he figures he can't be blamed with the amount of kids attending tryouts. He slowly turns to face the direction of the voice, rolling his shoulders back and sighing in satisfaction at the relief he feels in his muscles. He spots the small boy from earlier's tryouts jogging to catch up to him, sweaty hair flopping about. When he finally reaches Jungkook's side, he sends him an uncertain grin. "Wow, you looked really cool out there earlier!"

Jungkook observes the shorter boy beside him, wondering if he was old enough to be in high school. He decides the boy must have been accelerated if the remaining baby fat on his cheeks and his enthusiastic eyes are any indication. "Uh, thanks," he responds softly, "Sorry, I didn't catch your name, you are?"

"I'm Jimin!" he says brightly, pushing his too-long fringe away from his forehead. "I'm a sophomore this year."

Jungkook is a sophomore too, and he wonders why he's never seen Jimin before. He voices his question aloud to the boy with a curious tilt of the head.

"Ah, I just transferred this year actually. Had a bit of trouble in my old school and had to quit dancing, so I'm here instead," he says, and Jungkook hears a hint of sadness in the boy's tone but shrugs it off seeing as it's none of his business. He runs his eyes over Jimin's form and is surprised to note the light muscle running down his arms, sturdy thighs in loose shorts, and heels together as if he's getting ready to fall into a demi-plié. It's vastly different from what his face suggests, and it's an oddly charming combination.

"Did you happen to dance ballet?" Jungkook asks, beginning to walk again towards the changing room.

"Close, but actually, I did modern dance. How'd you guess that?" Jimin says, feet working double time to keep up with Jungkook's fast pace. "Wow, you move fast even when you're not running," he adds playfully.

Jungkook lets out a light laugh, slowing down for the smaller boy. "I just noticed the way you were standing earlier. I remember seeing somewhere that ballet dancers stood like that, so I got curious. What moved you to track then, Jimin?"

He sees Jimin falter for a moment before picking up his pace again, "I'm not very good with ball sports, so I figure this is a better option. Plus, I used to dance, so my legs are pretty strong, and I'm already quite flexible. I figure if I work hard, I can be good at this too. I also participated in cross country before I went into dance, so I'm not a stranger to track and field at all."

Jungkook gives him a little nod. Truthfully, he hadn't noticed the boy in action, so he can't say for sure if he's any good, but if those legs are as strong as they look, Jimin's pretty promising. "So are you looking to be a distance runner, Jimin? Or are short distances more your thing?" Jungkook asks because he figures he should make friends on the team, and Jimin looks to be making his way up with them soon.

"Not too sure," Jimin says, "Whatever I'm good at, I guess. What do you prefer?"

Jungkook sends him a cocky grin, "I usually run the 400 or 800 m."

Jimin looks up at him with large eyes, pushing his hair back again, "You must be great at pacing yourself then. Man, I think I'd run too fast then get tired or run too slow then let others win."

It makes Jungkook a little proud to see Jimin in awe, and when they finally reach the changing room, he can't feel the heaviness in his muscles anymore with Jimin's light laughter ringing all around him.

"I'm gonna train really hard and be just as good as you, Kookie," Jimin says with a bright smile, cheeks moving up to emphasize his naturally puffy eyes.

Jungkook only smirks, grabbing spare clothes from his gym bag. "You can try."

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Jungkook doesn't know if it's the dream that puts him in a good mood, or if it's the lack of schedules that has him smiling ear to ear at 7 am. He tugs his running shoes on, taking the time to actually untie then retie his laces. His reflection in the mirror shows a much better-looking Jungkook, and he finds himself grinning at himself. Sleep really does do wonders for the skin. He plugs his earphones in, blasting some bubbly girl group song in his ears, effectively waking the rest of his body up. He decides to extend his route today, hoping he doesn't get too lost in the wide streets of Gangnam city.

Right as Jungkook reaches the end of his usual route and prepares to run a little farther, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He begrudgingly pulls it out, hoping it wouldn't be Jin calling to tell him about a surprise schedule, but his screen displays the word "Mother", and Jungkook stops everything to take the call.

"Jungkook-ah!" his mother's sharp voice sounds out from the sleek lines of his cellphone. "Do you have no plans to visit your parents?" she says, tone close to the scoldings Jungkook's so used to receiving. He rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Why don't you come over to Seoul instead?"

"Come over to Seoul? So that's how it is these days, we visit you instead of you visiting us?" she goes on a rant so long and pointless that Jungkook ends up tuning her out, focusing again only when he hears silence invade the line.

"I'll go over to Busan for the weekend, Ma," he says in a placating manner. "Don't get too worked up, your blood pressure might spike again. How's dad doing?"

He hears a scoff down the line and hopes his mother won't turn to rants again. Fortunately, she responds in a much calmer manner. "He's doing fine, healthier than ever! I just don't get why he insists on doing laundry twice a day. I reckon it's not fun at all! And dear Lord, the water bill!"

Jungkook can't help but let out a bit of laughter. He's missed this: his mother's constant nagging over his father's latest impractical endeavors, and for the first time in a while, he's struck with the tiniest bit of homesickness, reminding him of his first days in Seoul alone. "Laundry can be quite fun, Ma. Relax a little, I pay for the water bill anyway." He can practically envision his mother shaking her head all the way in Busan before her voice is crackling back to life. "Our neighbor's playing the drums again. I have to go give him a piece of my mind. Eat well, Kook. I love you," she says, voice softening at the end.

"Alright, Ma, you too. I love you," Jungkook responds. He waits until he hears the dial tone before slipping his phone back in his pocket and continuing his morning run. He glances up at the sky and smiles. He's struck with the feeling that everything was going to be good today. He jogs past designer shops and convenience stores, feeling the cool morning air breeze through him, making his sweat a lot more tolerable. When he reaches a nice park occupied only by an old couple holding hands and sharing a sandwich, he turns around to run back.

He notices a pile of letters by the door as soon as he arrives. He knows they must be fan letters, but he calls Jin up just to be sure. He's had one too many bad experiences, and he's not particularly eager to relive them. Upon Jin's confirmation, he grabs the stack, nearly dropping half, and pushes his door open. He drops the letters on the living room table before moving to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of lukewarm water.

"You sound happy today, Kook," Jin says from where Jungkook's phone is placed on the counter, speaker mode on.

"You could say that," he says in agreement, "I'm visiting my parents tomorrow in Busan by the way, so you can't back out on my cleared schedule."

Jin hums uncertainly through the line, "Traveling to Busan takes around 5 hours by train. Are you sure you'll be back in time for the casting on Monday?"

"I'll take the KTX; that'll narrow it down to about two hours," Jungkook replies, taking large gulps of water.

"Alright, have fun, kid," Jin says, chuckling a little.

Jungkook doesn't remember the last time he had a free schedule, and he finds himself at a loss of what to do. After finishing his shower, he eyes his strands for a moment, frowning at the prominent black roots growing out from his dyed light brown hair. He decides it's about time for a change anyway, especially with his upcoming role, so he finds himself at an elite hair salon on the top floor of some expensive-looking building, picking out the right shade of black for his hair. He settles on one with subtle purple undertones. It takes a while for him to get used to his new hair, so used to the light shades that promoted a more innocent look, but he decides he likes the way the purple makes his eyes look deeper, and the darkness makes his skin look paler, like an angsty 20-year-old with secrets to hide, which he supposes, in a way, he is. He realizes with a start that he looks so much like dream Jungkook now, with the thoughtful eyes and dark hair. If he got a little tanner, he supposes no one would even notice if he took dream Jungkook's place, but he shrugs it off because it's a stupid thought, and hair is just hair.

He wanders around until he loses track of time, feeling a little lost, but it's freer than he's felt in a while. He knows he'll have articles up about him tomorrow about his new hair color or his exploration adventures, but he can't bring himself to care. For now, he's not an actor, he's just a boy that wants to see the world. When he inevitably has to come back home, his legs feel quite tired, and the sky's getting dark. After a quick shower and an obligatory update on twitter, he gets into bed, mind empty, welcoming sleep as it takes him.

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There's a glaring bruise on Jimin's left cheek, a bloom of pinkish red with mottled purple streaks right at the center, and Jungkook's trying hard not to stare. He moves out of the car, pulling Jimin along until they reach a rather large rock overlooking the vast ocean and large, green mountains. He settles on the warm sand, back resting against the smooth surface. He wonders if at some point, the tide was high enough to reach the rock, waves crashing repeatedly until the surface becomes smooth. He feels Jimin sit next to him, bare arms pressing against his own, thighs settled comfortably against his. Jungkook's used to Jimin sitting close, and despite the heat, he relishes in Jimin's warmth. He glances at Jimin and frowns again at seeing the large bruise in such close proximity. Jimin doesn't like it when he brings up the bruises, but Jungkook speaks before his mind can put a filter on it. "They came again?"

He hears Jimin sigh and feels it against his body as well. "They come every Friday. You already know that, Kookie," he says tiredly, eyes unfocused. Jungkook doesn't miss the way his fingers tremble and his legs twitch nervously.

"I know you don't like it when I say this, but isn't it better to just report it?" Jungkook asks softly, reaching out to take Jimin's hand.

Jimin only shakes his head. "Let's not talk about this, yeah? We came out here to enjoy, so let's enjoy."

"But—" Jungkook tries to argue, but Jimin's pressing his lips against his so sweetly and desperately that Jungkook loses his words, and the next thing he knows, Jimin's gotten up, giggling and telling Jungkook to chase him. Despite Jimin's slight head start, Jungkook's always been the faster runner, and days of no training has taken its toll on Jimin's speed. He catches up to Jimin rather quickly and tackles him down onto the sand. They play around for a while, messing each other's hair up and even managing to get into the surprisingly cool waters, splashing mercilessly until Jungkook gets saltwater in his eyes and surrenders, much to Jimin's entertainment.

They get out soaking wet and stand underneath the afternoon sun for a few moments, staring at each other with wide eyes and chests heaving. Jungkook reaches over to cup Jimin's cheek, mindful of the purpling bruise on his otherwise flawless complexion, before leaning in to take Jimin's lips. Jungkook tastes saltwater and sand and something he can only describe as Jimin, and it's absolutely perfect, the way they fit against each other with Jimin up on the tips of his toes to reach Jungkook's lips and Jungkook's arms wrapped lovingly around Jimin's waist. The sun's shining brightly behind them, and the waves crash into their ankles over and over again, but Jungkook ignores everything, even the wind whipping at their hair, as he loses himself in Jimin's sweet lips and small frame.

When they finally break free, panting in an effort to bring much-needed air into their lungs, Jungkook tilts his head down to lean his forehead on Jimin's. They're so close their breaths intermingle in the small space between them, and Jungkook moves even closer to whisper a soft promise, "I'll get a nice gold medal someday and, I'll make sure to give it to you."

————————

Jungkook doesn't wake up crying, not even sweating or struggling to breathe through a rapidly beating heart. Instead, he wakes with a lingering feeling of longing and sadness, almost wondering if life would be better with Jimin around. His mind replays the images over and over again from the vibrant bruise to the rolling sea to the feel of Jimin's lips against his. He throws the blanket off his legs, reminding himself that he has a train to catch and parents to visit.

The sun is barely out, but Jungkook's already waiting for his train to come, standing by the tracks with his arms folded and hood brought up to conceal his face. He feels a rush of wind blow past him as the train speeds past in a blur of blue, white, and grey. He steps into the first class section, settling into comfortable seats. He's reminded once again of how good it is to not be all cramped up in stuffy economy seats as he relishes in the comfortability of wide leg room and large seats.

An hour goes past quickly with Jungkook dozing off from time to time in dreamless sleep. When a particularly long tunnel gives way to an entirely different landscape filled with low countryside homes and tall, lush greenery, Jungkook finally remembers to call his mom. It takes a little while for her to pick up, but when she does, her voice is slow and slightly slurred, as if she just woke up.

"Ma, I'm on the train right now. Did I wake you up?"

"You know I'm never awake till lunch time, brat! What time will you get here?" comes her sharp reply, but Jungkook can sense an underlying warmth within her words, and he leans his head against the window. His mother's dialect is comforting. It reminds him of home-cooked meals and Naruto on Sundays and studying Mathematics on their small dining table with the smell of pancakes around him as his mother bustles about the kitchen. He supposes she doesn't wake up early anymore since Jungkook wasn't there to cook for anyway. He smiles wistfully, finishing the last of the tiny burger he bought earlier, crumpling the wrapper up.

"Around 11, I guess," Jungkook says unsurely. "I'm pretty sure I'll be there for lunch."

His mother hums, and he hears a bit of rustling. Jungkook wonders if his mother still reads her gossip magazines every morning or if she prefers to just play Piano Tiles on her phone. The rustling stops abruptly, his mother gasping in shock, "Park Jimin's starring in a new film?"

Jungkook feels himself freeze for a moment. Jimin? In all of his career, Jungkook's never heard of a Jimin, although it's not surprising with Jungkook's lack of concern for other actors. He decides that it can't possibly be his Jimin. Who knows how many Jimins there are in South Korea alone, and he shrugs off his initial shock, settling for a casual inquiry. "Who's Park Jimin?"

His mother tsk's disapprovingly through the phone, "You should know your competition, Kook. This kid made his acting debut in some big-time movie as a supporting character, but for some reason, he became a fan-favorite, so he had a lot of roles lined up for him—"

Jungkook interrupts his mother's story, relieved because it's not Jimin, not the same Jimin. "Okay, he got semi-successful once, why do we care? I told you to stop reading about those B-rate actors on your gossip magazines."

She shushes him through the phone, "Don't interrupt me! When I say that kid had roles lined up for him, I mean huge roles."

"So why don't I know about him?" Jungkook says, relaxing back onto his seat.

"Here's the thing, all this happened around three years ago. He took on some lead role in a drama, and everyone was really excited for it. There was so much hype over the project, and everyone was sure it was gonna be a hit, then suddenly Park Jimin just quits. He goes completely off the radar, and they had to replace him, and no one saw him for months after that. It's weird, isn't it?" Jungkook's mother says, chattering away excitedly.

"He's just some kid who couldn't handle the pressure then," Jungkook says, flipping his fringe away from his forehead. He happens to glance at his reflection in the window and startles, still unused to his dark hair. He hears a gasp through the line again, and he rolls his eyes, remembering how much his mother thrives off of chaos.

"Remember that congressman who got married to a reporter half his age? They’re getting divorced! What did I say, Jungkook? I said this would happen, and oh my, they're arguing over separation fees too, oh, this is gold!" she says, cackling through the speakers. Jungkook shakes his head fondly. His mother hasn't changed at all, if anything, she's even worse now. Their conversation lasts for nearly the entire train ride. It's mainly her bringing up scandals and issues and fishing out gossip from Jungkook's work, but Jungkook feels more at home than he has in a while with his mother's high voice nearly piercing his ears.

When he finally arrives at the station, Jungkook's legs are numb from the ride. He pulls his hood back up and exits the train with his backpack slung across one shoulder. The sun is high up in the sky now, and it's warmer than the past days have been.

Jungkook texts his mom to let her know he's here, and he manages to hail a cab almost immediately. He enters the worn taxi, eyeing the light stains on the seats and the little bobblehead figurine on the dashboard. The ride back to his parents' home is a fairly long one, taking another half-hour to arrive, but Jungkook doesn't get the time to fall asleep. He smiles as the driver chatters, obviously energized by the morning. His voice is low with the occasional break, the way some old people sound after a lifetime of a voice well-used, and when he smiles at Jungkook through the mirror, his eyes twinkle with visible smile lines and crinkles around the eyes. His dialect is thick, making every syllable richer, and Jungkook finds that it adds a bit of depth to his otherwise normal stories. When Jungkook hands him the money and tells him to keep the change, the driver shakes his hand warmly. Jungkook can feel the roughness of his palm, sculpted by days of work, and he feels a new sense of warmth bloom within him as he realizes he's truly home.

He knocks on the door thrice, barely having to wait until the door is being pulled open, and his mother is fussing over him and ushering him in.

"You look skinner than in your photos!" she says, pulling a loose thread from his clothes and smoothing his ruffled hair. "You dyed your hair back. This looks much better," she adds, pulling him into a large hug. He moves to the kitchen where he knows his father will be and drops his bag on the sofa along the way. He hears his mother yell at him from behind about leaving his things in their proper places, but he ignores it in favor of rushing over to his dad. Jungkook's father places a large plate of chicken on the table before turning around and squeezing Jungkook into a tight hug.

"I missed 'ya, kid. How've 'ya been?" his dad says, dialect warm and heavy. Jungkook beams widely, "I've been good, dad. How about you? What do you have over there?"

"Just some fried chick'n, flat dumplings, and bibim dangmyeon. Your fav'rites," he says, patting him on the back and leading him to the table.

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Jungkook's mother is a planner. She likes schedules and themes, and above all, she likes having her days go as planned. Jungkook knows this, so he isn't surprised to hear his mother nag him to finish lunch earlier, so they can get started with the day.

"I've got the day all planned out, Kook, so hurry up with your chicken! We're already 30 minutes behind schedule," his mom says, arms crossed over her chest with her foot tapping impatiently on the wooden floor.

"Where are we going?" Jungkook says, sucking cool air into his burning mouth. He's forgotten how spicy the food his father makes is, and he reaches over for a glass of water, soothing his burnt palate, before the spiciness is back with a vengeance.

His mother clucks disapprovingly. "If it's spicy, you should eat bread. Water makes it worse," she scolds. "Anyway, we'll be heading over to the food bazaar first to grab some hotteok. The hotteok in Seoul is just awful! How can you stand that?" She shudders in disgust before moving on, "Then we'll head over to Dadaepo Beach! Not much people around this time of year, so it'll be fun."

Jungkook wipes the sweat off his forehead. "Why not Haeundae Beach? If we're talking beaches in Busan, it has to be there."

She stares at him with a disappointed expression. "Haeundae this, Haeundae that, why not Dadaepo? No annoying tourists!"

Jungkook's mom gets the car started as soon as he finishes eating, and his dad begrudgingly leaves the laundry to go with them. Jungkook is practically glued to the car window as he gazes at the tiny shops and small cars pass him by. He looks at the small high school he attended and the large park he vaguely recalls playing in when he was really young and allows himself to relax. In here, he doesn't feel like he's famous or like he's anything special. In here, all he sees are possibilities of a normal life. The radio is turned on with the static-filled voice of some female announcer, and his mom pops in with side comments from time to time about issues Jungkook doesn’t care about.

They speed through the semi-busy streets and vaguely familiar buildings until they arrive at a large, illuminated open area with a large variety of food stalls and restaurants. Jungkook takes in the smell of fried food and noodles and home. His mother drags him in to the heart of the bazaar where people are walking around all cramped up. He can hear murmuring all around him, and he just hopes no one will approach him today. He manages to grab good hotteok with little interruption, and the next thing he knows, his mother’s ushering him back out, complaining about travel time and traffic. Right before he leaves, he spots a familiar store, rather worn down with rickety, yellowed sign in the center. He racks his mind but can’t come up with where he’s seen it before.

“Ma, did we go here often? When I still lived here, or with friends maybe?” he asks when he gets into the car because all the places are blurred together in his mind now. The only place he truly remembers in Busan is his home and high school. Everything else is a haze between auditions and castings and mini talent shows.

She gives him an odd look before answering, “Not really. We used to go to food bazaars, but not this particular one. It’s too far.”

Jungkook nods slowly, letting it sink in, before deciding that maybe it was nothing. There are probably a hundred other stores that look similar, so he puts the thought out of his mind and watches the scenery go by. The buildings lessen, and the homes get even smaller and more provincial. He can see a small sliver of the ocean from where they’re driving, and it’s glimmering in the afternoon sun.

When they come to a halt, Jungkook comes face to face with a familiar scene. Dadaepo beach, with its soft waves, warm sand, and lush mountains, reminds Jungkook so much of his time at the beach with Jimin. He feels a bit of dizziness overtake him, and he exits the car, hoping a bit of the beach air will help soothe what he supposes could be carsickness. His feels the sand give slightly underneath his dark sneakers, and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, the dizziness becomes even worse. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, feeling as though gravity was suddenly pulling on all sides. Even with his eyes closed, he can feel the world spinning, as if his brain is doing pirouettes inside his skull. He feels a wrenching sensation in his gut, and when the feeling finally subsides, he opens his eyes again.

The sea is glimmering softly, but unlike the stillness of earlier, there’s a steady rocking of the waves from shore to shore. The sun isn’t beaming with harsh afternoon rays but is shining softly like it would in the morning. It feels much warmer than earlier, and when he glances down at himself, he’s not wearing his sneakers or even a black button-up. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and blue board shorts, and he can feel the sand between his toes from his slipper-clad feet. He turns to look behind him, but instead of his mother’s small car, he sees the beat up, secondhand Hyundai from his dreams. He turns so quickly that he hears a soft crack from his neck. His parents are no where to be found, and the small stall with colorful hats and sunglasses on the other side of the beach is gone too.

He looks ahead of him to the ocean and is surprised to see a smaller form in similar attire running to him. Jungkook starts with the realization that he knows him. He knows the boy’s familiar running gait, the bouncy black hair, and the small frame that he’s had pressed to his side while walking to the locker rooms or sitting on his couch or resting by the beach together. It’s Jimin.

When Jimin comes to a stop in front of him, he looks just as confused as Jungkook is. He’s panting softly, eyes wide and filled with distress. “You,” he says hoarsely, and Jungkook can sense so much confusion and pain in his words. “Why are you here again?” he chokes out. He moves to grasp Jungkook’s shoulder but stops and lets his hand hover, as if he’s afraid of what would happen if they made contact. His hand is lightly shaking, and tears are pooling in his droopy eyes. “Leave me alone,” he says, almost a whisper. He sounds so tired, and Jungkook doesn’t know what it is about his expression that just hurts him. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, one that he’s itching to ask. Why? Why did Jimin do it? He feels the world spinning again, and even Jimin’s face is becoming hazy and mosaicked. There’s a wrenching feeling in his gut again, and he shuts his eyes, screws them shut until the feeling subsides.

When Jungkook opens his eyes, Jimin’s gone, but he can still feel the slight warmth that had radiated from his outstretched hand earlier. He turns around, and his father is walking towards him, his mom getting out of the car, exactly like they were before Jungkook found himself in the same place but somehow so far away from here.

“Come, Jungkook! We have to grab the best spot to see the ocean,” his mother says, walking briskly past him. Jungkook finds himself frozen. His mind is boiling with confusion and a sense of hurt that he doesn’t understand. He thinks he must be going crazy because it’s impossible that he just saw Jimin, that his world just disappeared, that he nearly touched the same boy he met every night in his dreams. And why? Why did Jimin want him to leave so badly? He feels as though his feet are buried deep in the sand, and his mind is still reeling in shock

“Well? We can’t stand around all day, Kook,” Jungkook’s mother’s voice pierces through Jungkook’s clouded mind. He shakes the heaviness that threatened to overtake his body away and moves forward. Jungkook’s father places his hand on his shoulder, and Jungkook can’t help but startle. “‘Ya alright?” he asks in concern. “Yeah,” Jungkook says, trying to convince himself as well, “I’m fine.”

Jungkook’s not entirely sure how long they walk, but they’re in a rather rocky area now, and Jungkook just knows that it’s here. He knows this is the exact same beach he kissed Jimin on. His legs move with a mind of their own, and he passes his mother, reaching a large, smooth rock. He sinks down onto the sand and lets his back slump against the cool stone. He gazes out at the sea, and it’s the same rolling waters, the same sensation of the rock behind him, the same sun striking his skin. The only thing he needs to perfect the scene is Jimin, Jimin pressed up against him or running across the sand.

“Oh, you found it right away,” Jungkook’s mom says. “This spot’s rather hard to find.”

“Remember ‘ta good ol’ days we used ‘ta sit ‘ere and watch ‘ta sunset, Naeun?” his father says, voice taking on a nostalgic quality. Jungkook looks up to see his father put his arm around his mother’s shoulders. He feels drained all of a sudden, like he does after a particularly long run, and they stay there for a while, gazing at the ocean. Jungkook doesn’t know what to make of the day’s events, and his mind won’t stop running around in circles. He wonders where Jimin is, directing question after question to the clear waters, but no answer comes to him.

When they finally decide to go home, the sun’s setting. Jungkook continues looking out the window in the backseat of their car. The streets look so much more familiar to him at night with all the signs lit up showing him where to go. He passes by family-owned restaurants, small pubs, and modest homes. He doesn’t say a word, simple letting the multicolored lights cast shadows on his face until he sees the familiar bazaar.

“Wait! Can we stop here just for a moment?” Jungkook yells all of a sudden. “I—I need to check something. It’ll be quick,” he says, gazing desperately at his mother.

His mother looks at him with a bit of concern, stopping the car nonetheless. Jungkook exits the car without looking back, and he doesn’t remember if he forgot to shut the door. He moves past stalls that are somehow more crowded than earlier, pushing past people as gently and respectfully as he can while shielding his face from view.

Jungkook spots a familiar worn down building with its yellowed sign. The only thing preventing it from looking abandoned is a small, lit-up sign sticking out from the side of the shop and the light shining from its doors. He pushes the door open, entering the small restaurant. Immediately, the smell of sizzling meat envelops his senses, and flashbacks of running out into the street and looking for a certain black-haired boy plays in his mind. He feels a flash of dizziness, and for a second, he swears that the scenery changes. Instead of the small family by the corner and the one old man sipping soju by the entrance, the place is filled with raucous college students, all chugging beer and eating multiple servings of samgyeopsal, but it switches back so quickly that he wonders if he really is going crazy.

“May I help you?” a woman says, walking up to Jungkook. She has a kind face and aged features with streaks of gray in her hair, but her voice is high and clear, like a woman in her youth.

“Ah, no. I just wanted to check something, but thank you,” he says, smiling politely.

The woman tilts her head with dull recognition in her eyes. Jungkook feels a bit of panic rising within him, irrationally wondering if she knows about the Jungkook from his dreams, but all she says is, “By chance, are you a celebrity?”

Jungkook coughs awkwardly, having forgotten to conceal his face, “Yes, actually.” The woman smiles to reveal slightly yellowed but perfectly straight teeth. “I knew you looked familiar!” she says. “You’re that kid, uh, what was it? Jeongki?”

Jungkook lets out a bit of laughter, not being recognized is rather refreshing. “I’m Jungkook,” he says softly.

“Ah, Jungkook! Yes, that sounds right,” she says nodding. “Please, stay and eat for a moment. You look rather tired,” she adds, “On the house.”

“Oh, no, thank you, I have to go,” he says. He bows to the woman before moving to exit, but he hesitates for a moment. “Do you happen to know if there are any high buildings around here?” he asks.

“High buildings?” she mutters thoughtfully, “There’s a big shopping mall a couple streets away, other than that, everything in Busan is fairly small.”

Jungkook nods, bidding the woman farewell. He leaves the restaurant, feeling even more confused than before. He feels as though he’s finding puzzle pieces and putting them together to form an image he doesn’t understand, but he still has a lot of missing pieces to look for, and there’s no guide as to what he’ll see in the end. He buys another steaming hotteok from a rickety stall and finds his way back to the car. When he enters, his parents both turn to look at him. “What did you do?” his mother asks, twisting from her seat to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook replies dazedly, “I bought hotteok.”

“Buying hotteok takes that long?” she says in disbelief.

“Uh, there was a long line,” he says, leaning back and taking a small bite from the hotteok.

Jungkook’s mom shakes her head, turning back to look at the road and starting the car. “Hotteok must be really good here.”

————————

Jungkook doesn’t sleep that night. He lies awake in his childhood home, allowing the darkness to surround him. When the morning comes, he takes a run to clear his mind and pulls some strings to use a nearby gym to beat the drowsiness settling within him. Throughout the ride back home, he doesn’t sleep either, keeping his eyes trained on his phone or out the window with his earphones plugged in at high volume. If he could help it, he’d never sleep again, but for now, he settles on staying awake for as long as he can. He rushes back home as soon as he steps foot in Seoul, cap, mask, and glasses on to make sure no one recognizes him.

The house is quieter than Jungkook remembers, and he makes sure to open all the lights and blast some music to give a little bit of life to his cold, sleek home. He moves to his bedroom and grabs the script, desperate for a distraction, as he decides to give it a proper read. He feels stupid for choosing to play Doyoon, a track and field athlete, but the reason he chose it was because he knew he could play it well. He flips through the script and groans again at the lack of information. Jungkook hasn’t been nervous for readings in a very long while, but with this one, he feels like he’s going in blind.

Eventually, Jungkook gives up because it was almost as if the papers were meant to be as vague and secretive as possible. He gets a text from Jin telling him to be ready by 10 am, and Jungkook’s just about done with everything. He decides that fuck it, he needs to sleep, so he finally succumbs at 3 am in the morning, preparing himself for a massive headache the next day. He doesn’t wanna dream, doesn’t wanna see Jimin, but the need to sleep is much more pressing.

The morning comes quickly, the sun shining through the blinds and illuminating them in a way that makes the normally brown stripes look like honey. Jungkook sits up slowly in confusion at the sound of his alarm. He wakes up so calmly from his first dreamless sleep in years, all deep breaths and slow heartbeats, hands still weak with sleep. He goes through his typical morning jog and a long shower with a proper breakfast, but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to go wrong, like last night was the calm before the storm, and he’s about to cross over into heavy turbulence.

When the doorbell finally rings, Jungkook’s practically dying for some company to ease his overworked mind. Jin enters looking neat and collected in a nice blue, silk button up with sleeves so long they cover his hands. On anyone else, it would look odd, the formality of the attire being broken by the oversized appearance of the top, but on Jin, it looks professional with a hint of personality. He has neatly styled hair and glasses to tie his look together, and Jungkook almost resents him for how good he looks when Jungkook’s been having the crisis of his life over the weekend.

“Am I getting casted or are you?” Jungkook asks sarcastically as he moves to get in the car.

Jin seems to be in a good mood, letting out a short fit of laughter, and Jungkook’s thankful that it’s not one of his practiced laughs, dry chuckles, or proper giggles, but an unattractive squeaking sound. It makes Jungkook feel better about himself. “It would be a shame not to maximize my handsome face,” he says, flipping one sleeve up to reveal a leather watch and checking the time.

Jungkook finds his mood lifting significantly. “I’m slightly offended I even have to read for this role,” he says jokingly.

“Yoongi always requires readings, no matter how famous the actor. It actually puts a lot of famous people off,” Jin says. “I get it though. You have to see if they can act the part.”

“Of course I can. I’m Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook says, smiling cheekily at Jin. He feels calmer around the manager, and he wonders if Jin will actually stay longer than his other managers have.

“By the way,” Jin says, sounding as though he just remembered it, “you’ll be reading with the other male lead today. They decided to speed it up a little, probably since you’ve pretty much already gotten the role.”

“I suppose we’re not using the scene they gave then?” Jungkook asks. His eyebrows furrow in slight disapproval at the lack of courtesy. Improvisation won’t be a problem, and it’s not all that difficult to read lines out, but Jungkook, much like his mother, doesn’t like surprises or sudden changes in plans.

“Sorry, Kook. I was rather surprised too,” Jin says. “They’re being really selective with the roles actually, and it’s only being offered to select actors, so this will be rather quick.”

They arrive at a large, polished building and head straight up to the second highest floor. Jin pushes a door at the end of the corridor open, and Jungkook steps in. Instead of a long table at the back with a panel of grumpy directors and producers, there’s a circular table near the middle with a group of people around Jungkook’s age, probably a little older, having a quiet discussion that Jungkook can’t make out. There’s a pile of kiddie snacks in the center with what looks to be mango crepe cake beside it, and Jungkook wonders if this is a reading or a friendly hangout.

When they hear the door creak open, they all turn to look in Jungkook’s direction. There are four people in total, one that Jungkook can vaguely recognize as Min Yoongi. Jungkook expected him to look at a little scarier and be a little bigger too, but he’s a pale, skinny man with sleepy eyes and disheveled hair. He’s slouched over in a striped sweater, wearing a soft grey beanie, looking nothing like the great director behind such a controversial movie. Beside him is a taller-looking man wearing glasses that Jungkook suspects to not have any actual lenses, holding a bundle of perfectly white paper that Jungkook assumes is the script. He sports an oversized army green jacket and loose black pants, sandaled feet crossed one over the other. On the other side, there’s a man with surprisingly bright hair and a tall nose. He’s drinking what looks to be some sort of strawberry-flavored drink, and when he spots Jungkook, he smiles widely, lips forming something similar to a heart. Lastly, there’s a younger-looking man with light brown hair. His face is oddly symmetrical, and his eyes are large, not in the same way Jungkook’s eyes are, looking doe-like and innocent. His eyes look large like he’s always observing something or taking notes in his mind, and Jungkook feels a little like he’s looking into his soul.

Jungkook walks over to the circular table, accepting the seat the wide-eyed boy graciously offers him. Jin follows and takes the seat beside him. He supposes this must be the other male lead, so Jungkook decides not to come off as a brat this time and gives him a polite smile.

“Jungkook-ssi,” the boy says, reaching out for a handshake. The man’s fingers are long, unbelievably so, but Jungkook’s too preoccupied with the deepness of his voice, completely unexpected from his soft appearance. The floral button-up he’s wearing is of questionable taste, but Jungkook can’t deny that he’s at least moderately attractive enough to pull it off. “I’m Taehyung,” he continues on with his unbelievably deep voice. Jungkook racks his mind trying to come up with any knowledge of an actor named Taehyung, but he comes up with absolutely nothing. He’s never heard of Taehyung before, so he must be new, but he carries himself with a laid-back confidence uncharacteristic of rookies. Jungkook’s about to ask if it’s his first movie when the tall-looking man with hipster glasses speaks up.

“The other lead’s in the restroom right now,” he says, and his voice is low, smooth, and pleasant. Despite his unconventional attire, he has an aura of charisma and importance that’s obvious as soon as he speaks. Jungkook quirks his brow, “Ah, I thought Taehyung-ssi was the other lead.”

“Taehyungie’s just his manager,” he says. Jungkook wonders why he refers to Taehyung so informally, but it’s not uncommon to make friends in the industry, so he ignores it. “I’m Namjoon,” he says, reaching over to shake his hand as well. “Jungkook,” he says, accepting Namjoon’s outstretched hand and giving it a small but firm shake.

“I’m Hoseok!” the bright-haired boy exclaims, shaking Jungkook’s hand enthusiastically. His fingers are thin and delicate, like the rest of his features are, and his eyes are kind and filled with a sort of bubbling excitement. “I’m the producer of the film, and Namjoon here is the screenwriter. Yoongi, of course, is the director, and that’s just Taehyungie,” he says. “Jiminie should be here soon,” he adds, “Ah, he’s the other lead if you didn’t know.”

Jungkook tenses up in his seat, turning to look at Jin. “Jimin?” he asks.

Jin nods at him, cheeks puffing up a little with a close-mouthed smile, “Yeah, Park Jimin. It’s all over the news. It’s his comeback role.”

Jungkook can feel a little stress headache begin to build behind his eyes. He’s so done with all these Jimin coincidences, and he feels as though one more mention could put him over the edge. That’s what his mother was talking about then; she’ll be pestering him for gossip non-stop now.

The sound of the door opening interrupts their introductions and a small man walks in. His hair is dyed in a dirty blonde shade, parted to show off a pale forehead, and he’s wearing red-tinted shades in all-black attire. Jungkook feels his heart beat faster as he moves closer, every step highlighting yet another feature that Jungkook’s all too familiar with. At first, he doesn’t recognize him, but when he lets his eyes observe something other than the bold choice of hair color, he notices the same graceful posture honed by years of dancing. He sees the small, button nose contrasting his plump lips, and Jungkook’s headache is back full force. It’s Jimin again, outside of his dreams and hopefully his hallucinations, and Jungkook is just so damn done.

Chapter Text

“Doyoon, can I come over?”

Jungkook stares at the blonde man seated in front of him whose eyes are directed to the script in his small hands. He doesn’t hear a word Jimin’s saying from the white noise buzzing in his ears. He watches the way the other boy pushes his hair up and away from his forehead, obnoxious shades still on his face. At Jungkook’s silence, Jimin looks up, leaning back in his seat and giving him a brief once-over. The red tint of his glasses does nothing to hide his eyes, and from this close, Jungkook can clearly see Jimin’s droopy lids.

“Are you lost?” he hears Jimin say with a slight edge to his voice. “We’re at this scene,” he adds, reaching over to point at an area on Jungkook’s script. Jungkook doesn’t spare his script a single glance, jaw tightening as he continues to stare at the actor. Jimin’s looking at him with a mildly impatient expression, and the hair he pushed back earlier is now falling across softly in strands across his face again. Jungkook hates it. He hates seeing Jimin with dyed hair and at least three piercings on each ear and black attire that brings out the lack of a sun-kissed tan on his skin.

Yoongi interrupts the awkward silence building up in the room, slamming his own copy of the script down on the table. “What’s your issue?” he says lowly, but there’s a roughness to his voice that hints at barely contained irritation.

Jungkook attempts to compose himself, grip tightening on the script. “This scene,” he says, and there’s a slight shake in his voice that betrays the tornado of emotions swirling inside him, “how’d you—I mean… How did you come up with this scene?” As soon as the question leaves his mouth, Jin gives him a concerned look. He glances up in time to see Jimin’s lips quirk down disapprovingly, and he feels a twinge of resentment for the boy, for daring to look like his Jimin but not being him.

Hoseok places a delicate hand on Yoongi’s arm, almost as if he’s telling him to calm down. He laughs nervously, “Do you want to talk about the plot first, Jungkook-ssi? Maybe hearing about the story more will help you act the scene out.”

Jungkook ignores the way Jimin shifts uncomfortably and Yoongi crosses his arms while mumbling something about stuck-up actors and gives Hoseok a small nod, feeling a sense of relief settle within him. Namjoon coughs nervously beside Hoseok, still holding on to a copy of the script. “Well, Hoseok had the idea for everything actually. He called me in to write the script, so we essentially worked on it together.”

Hoseok nods. The tension in the room lets up a little, and he lets go of Yoongi. “Right so, I thought about how we don’t really have a lot of movies with sensitive topics here because movies like that don’t sell, so I decided that I wanted to bring representation to areas that have to do with crime, poverty, power dynamics, and of course, the most obvious, the LGBTQ+ community. Namjoon’s a really good writer, so it worked well, and Yoongi’s, well, he’s good at handling sensitive material, so that’s how this film was brought about.”

Yoongi appears to have calmed down a little, taking a sip out of what Jungkook’s sure is actually Hoseok’s strawberry drink. “Doyoon and Junho, that’s you and Jimin, meet in high school, sophomore year.” Jungkook closes his eyes for a second longer than he’s supposed to because he’s right. He does know this story, in fact he knows this story very well. Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice his unease and continues speaking. “Doyoon is a track and field athlete, you already know that, and Junho’s a transfer student who’s running away from certain things. Junho trains with Doyoon, and Doyoon thinks everything’s going well. They start dating, getting better at track, having sexy times, but Junho suddenly starts getting evasive, skips class more, comes looking all beat up, until he finally announces he can’t afford university. Doyoon gets pissed at being kept in the dark, and Junho’s jealous of Doyoon’s life, so they have a falling out. Insert a lot of angst and pain and teenage emotion here.”

Jungkook sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but it’s enough to give him a headache. “You’re pretty shit at explaining, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook says, but truthfully, Yoongi explained it quite well. What Jungkook needs is an explanation as to how they somehow got into his head and plucked his dreams right out of him then turned it into some indie movie plot. Jin gives him a warning glance and a low, exasperated “Jungkook”, but Jungkook only gestures for any of them to continue speaking.

Hoseok speaks up after a beat of silence, hands twisting nervously. “Doyoon promises Junho a gold medal, but they have their falling out before it can happen. Junho’s life kinda falls to shit while Doyoon’s only gets better, so Junho takes his own life. The movie ends with Doyoon leaving a gold medal by Junho’s grave.”

“I still think that’s a gross cliche,” Yoongi says, arms crossed. He’s still holding Hoseok’s drink, and it doesn’t seem like Hoseok minds at all.

“Not like I can control it,” Hoseok says so softly that Jungkook almost wonders if he really heard it. He doesn’t know what Hoseok means by that, but for now, he can’t bring himself to care.

Jimin, who’s been strangely silent throughout the whole exchange, chooses this time to speak up. “Maybe if Doyoon had tried to be a little more understanding and cooperative, Junho would be fine.”

Jungkook gives him a sharp glare, feeling personally attacked, “Maybe Junho shouldn’t have been a jealous bitch.”

Yoongi sighs, “Right, okay, this isn’t gonna work. I’m telling you straight up that you can’t have this role. The chemistry’s all wrong, and I can’t work with your crappy attitude. Thanks for coming, but no thanks.” He finishes the last of his drink, glaring at it like he’s imagining it’s Jungkook. Jungkook tried to be good this time, he really did, but it’s impossible when Jimin’s been standoffish since he cane in, and Jungkook’s head hurts trying to find out if this movie is some big cruel prank the world’s playing on him.

Namjoon’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s words. He shakes Hoseok’s shoulder almost urgently. “Wait! Please don’t leave, Yoongi-hyung’s just being cranky. We think you’d be perfect for this role actually, you just need to get acquainted with Jimin. I’m sure you’ll get along,” he says. Yoongi hisses in anger, “What the fuck do you mean perfect? I don’t care if it’s him, I can’t stand this.”

Taehyung butts in right after Yoongi, “Hyung, do you want this done or not?” There’s something in Taehyung’s voice that strikes Jungkook as odd, as if he’s not talking about the movie at all. It seems to do the trick though where Yoongi is concerned, and the director is leaning back in his seat, breathing deeply like he’s trying to calm himself. Jungkook hears paper rustling, and he turns to look at Jimin who’s opening the script once again.

“Since you get it now, let’s try again,” Jimin says. He pushes his hair back and adjusts his obnoxious sunglasses. He crosses one leg over the other, and Jungkook notes the thickness of his thighs, corded muscles prominent through his skinny jeans. He hates how he can still see his Jimin in the man in front of him from the way he carries himself to the way his muscles run under his skin.

“Doyoon, can I come over?” Jimin recites, and although his face remains rather neutral, his voice is filled with barely contained emotion, like his feelings have filled him up and are now spilling through his mouth. Jungkook feels himself go a little crazy over how much it sounds like Jimin that one night when Jungkook’s worn down from training and can’t be bothered to argue with him anymore.

Jungkook can almost feel the worn, leather couch beneath him and hear the basketball game through the screen. The next lines come almost naturally, sounding more like dream Jungkook and not himself. “Miss me already? We just met up earlier today,” he says in that same teasing, singsong voice Jungkook used over the phone. Jungkook watches as Jimin’s face twists into something like pain, and he briefly wonders if that’s what his Jimin looked like when he called him that night

“Please, Yoon,” Jimin says. His voice is pure desperation, serious and almost begging.

“Sure, you never ask for permission to come over anyway,” Jungkook says, and his hands are shaking now, but somehow his voice is calm, casual even.

Jimin mimes frantic knocks, and says, “Dad’s being a shit again.”

Jungkook doesn’t bother to remind him that he was supposed to have another line before Jimin’s and instead answers, “I thought you guys were doing well?” He can practically feel the same heat from when Jimin sat beside him before, even though Jimin’s seated across him and is nowhere near pressed up on his arm. He can still recall the light force Jimin used to push his bowl of chips away, and when Jimin angrily spouts the next line, word for word, it almost breaks Jungkook all over again.

“Doing well? If you mean I’m not going to college next year is doing well then I guess.”

Jungkook finds it so easy to slip into his role, almost as if he’s channeling dream Jungkook and allowing him to take the lead. When Jimin yells at him about privilege, about shitty timing and even shittier luck, about how Jimin wishes he was Jungkook instead, it hurts on such an intimate level. They end the scene, and silence invades the room. Jungkook can feel hurt and resignation bubbling within him, even though he knows it’s not him who’s hurt or resigned. Jungkook is not a bad actor by any means, but the feeling of completely slipping into a role is one that he’s not familiar with. He portrays his character well, but he knows how to keep his mind detached, but this is different. Acting with Jimin transports him back to the small house and the old sofa with a bowl of chips between them.

Jimin lets out a long breath, blinking away tears of what Jungkook thinks is frustration. He places the script back on the smooth, circular table, and Jungkook tries to ignore his shaky hands. Hoseok lets out a few uncertain claps but stops when no one joins him.

“Okay, you’re hired,” Yoongi says casually, as if he wasn’t kicking Jungkook out just moments ago.

Namjoon appears to break out from his trance and lets out an awkward short burst of laughter. “Wow, it really is you,” he says, and Jungkook furrows his brows, trying to figure out what he means.

Jin tilts his head, apparently finding it confusing as well, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just that he really is Jeon Jungkook. He’s good,” Namjoon says, and there’s this delighted twinkle in his eyes that makes his entire face light up. He smiles so wide that Jungkook can see deep dimples on both cheeks, and he notices that one of Namjoon’s cheeks is just slightly puffier than the other. Taehyung reaches over to Jimin for a high-five.

“Ay, that’s my Chim!” he says loudly, his rumbly baritone rising and becoming almost velvety. Jimin lightly reciprocates, not looking all that cheerful. They run through the basics: schedules, locations, and of course, food.

“So, anyone want mango crepe cake?” Taehyung offers after a while of discussion. Jungkook gladly takes a slice and another because truthfully, he’s rather prone to stress-eating. He can feel Jimin’s gaze burning into the side of his skull, and he sends the blonde a sharp glare that roughly translates to “stop watching me eat, you creep”. Jimin takes a slice at Taehyung’s constant insistence, and Jungkook finds that this time he’s the one staring. Jimin eats his food so excruciatingly slowly that Jungkook almost offers to eat it for him. He peels layer after layer of the soft cake, eating as though he’s being forced to.

“Do you not like cake or something?” Jungkook asks Jimin, voice coming out rougher than expected.

“Shut up. I don’t like mangoes. At least I don’t eat like a pig.”

Jungkook watches as he peels another layer off, folding it up with his fork and pushing a chunk of mango away before eating it. He can’t believe he’s supposed to act as this guy’s boyfriend. His Jimin would never eat so atrociously.

“You look like a mango,” Jungkook mumbles under his breath, a direct hit at Jimin’s hair, but it’s obviously not silent enough as Jimin sends him another heated glare. He hears someone sigh, but he chooses to stab his cake aggressively instead of addressing the hostility that is once again present in the room.

———————

No matter how many times Jungkook visits, he still stands by his opinion that Sonja’s is a shitty cafe. It’s made even shittier when there’s a scowling blonde menace seated in front of him stabbing petulantly at his Energy-Up Salad. Jungkook bites into his own wrap, trying not to look too irritated because he’s sure the group of giggling girls seated a couple tables away know exactly who they are.

“So Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says, “why’d you leave acting in the first place?” Yoongi had highlighted the importance of bonding before they left, and Jungkook can’t say he’s not trying to subtly interrogate the other man to figure out if he knew anything about the situation, so he’s forced to invite Jimin out for a late lunch at his least favorite cafe.

“Personal reasons,” Jimin says vaguely, abandoning his salad completely.

“Such as?” Jungkook prompts because he’s not sitting through a disgustingly healthy meal just for Jimin to dodge his questions.

“Why do you need to know? We can act well together, so it doesn’t matter if you know nothing about me.”

Jungkook mouth tightens into a thin line. “As actors, Jimin-ssi, we should work hard to portray our roles well, and it’s not gonna happen if we’re fighting all the time. I know you chickened away from acting three years ago, and now you’re popping up again like acting’s just something you can get back into anytime you want, but you should at least have respect for the role you’re playing.”

A flash of anger appears on Jimin’s face. Jungkook can see it in the way his face becomes impassive, and his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Jimin’s not wearing those red-tinted shades anymore, so it’s much easier to tell that there’s genuine anger in Jimin’s eyes. Jungkook half expects him to snap and start yelling, but Jimin speaks in a surprisingly low tone, one that Jungkook’s unfamiliar with. Where his Jimin was all high-pitched and bubbly whose anger would come out in immature bursts, this Jimin was colder. His anger is like a river right before winter freezes it over: stiller than usual but flowing with a false sense of normality. He has the same voice, but he chooses to keep it neutral, the type to say hurtful words with a lack of expression. Jungkook finds that he doesn’t like it. Jimin seems like a professional, even with his emotions.

“Let’s have a trade then,” Jimin says succinctly. “Tell me about yourself then I’ll answer a question.”

Jungkook decides not to argue, settling on a story he can actually tell. “It’s not very well-known, but my first acting role wasn’t actually the kid version of some cop in an action movie. It was in some small indie film shot in Busan, and all I did was sit at the back of the set. I had one line, which was just ‘yes’.”

Jimin looks at him for a while, clearly not expecting actual information, but he runs his hand through his hair, nodding in understanding. “Alright, so why did I stop acting, right?”

Jungkook lets out a hum of agreement.

“It was my first big acting role, if you didn’t know. I’ve only ever acted in one movie, so going into a long TV drama was a huge shock. You might be used to it, but for me, the schedule was too much, and apart from being under pressure, some aspects of the movie hit a little too close to home. I started getting flashbacks and stuff, so I gave it up even though it paid really well,” Jimin says. To anyone else, Jimin’s voice sounds casual and unruffled, but Jungkook is an actor, and he can tell that Jimin’s feeling awkward, trying to find the balance between saying enough to satisfy and saving enough to be comfortable.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that. Jimin’s statement singlehandedly proved and disproved Jungkook’s opinion of him. Jimin did crack under pressure and ran away, but it’s apparent that he’s dealing with something a lot bigger than just that. Jungkook has half a mind to ask Jimin about his flashbacks, but with Jimin’s tone and mannerism, Jungkook’s pretty sure it would be best to leave it alone. He clears his throat awkwardly, wanting to back out and just go home. He doesn’t know if Jimin actually has anything to do with his dreams, but if he wants to get any sleep tonight, he has to know.

“Where have you been the past three years then?” Jungkook says after a while. Come to think of it, three years ago was when his dreams started becoming more and more frequent, and at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s one screwed up coincidence and he’s being paranoid or if Jimin knows more than he lets on

Jimin shifts uncomfortably. “I went to Daegu. My uncle lives there, and it was the perfect place to get myself together. I wasn’t popular enough to get noticed there. I came back to Seoul a year ago, but I’ve been lying low, really low.”

Jungkook knows Jimin’s being vague and holding back, but when Jimin asks him a question. he answers it the best he can anyway. “Why’d you choose this role? This is gonna get you a lot of bad PR you know?” Jimin says. He looks like he’s studying Jungkook, trying to figure him out just like Jungkook’s trying to figure Jimin out. They’re like two players on opposite teams trying to extract as much information from one another without giving anything important away, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to tread a couple of dangerous lines.

“Well, initially, it was Min Yoongi. I like his work and his style, so I thought why not? I’d enjoy it, and I’m at a point in my career where I don’t care about preserving it anymore. You could also say that I’ve always dreamed about being a track and field athlete, so this was perfect. Plus, the story was oddly relatable,” Jungkook says cautiously. If Jimin knew anything at all, he would have caught on by now, but Jungkook can’t find any change in Jimin’s expression.

“I assume you’re gonna ask me why I chose to act again then?” Jimin says, taking the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth. He gives Jimin a small nod, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“We have similar reasons,” he says. “It’s oddly similar to my old demons, so think of this as me tackling them once and for all. I don’t plan to stop acting after this, Jungkook-ssi. This is important to me. If I—well, I suppose we—finish this well, then I can move on. You think I don’t have respect for this role? I do, more than you think.”

There’s silence at their table for a while, only the sounds of soft conversations and forks clinking on plates surrounding them. Jungkook becomes hyperaware of the sun shining through the glass windows and striking Jimin’s blonde hair. It doesn’t look as soft as it was when it was black, but it’s fairly smooth and free from any visible black roots. Jimin notices him looking and runs his hand self-consciously through his hair. “It’s your turn,” Jimin says.

“I dislike high places,” Jungkook slowly replies. He’s taking a risk, a slight gamble, because Jimin seems to know more than he lets on, and Jungkook, like Doyoon, doesn’t appreciate being kept in the dark. “Sometimes, I dream that someone really close to me jumps off a high building, and I can’t move fast enough to stop him.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, just a fraction, before they’re settling back into neutral. “Junho jumps off a building. That’s how he kills himself, did you know?”

Jungkook keeps his tone neutral, careful not to show any indication that he’s gotten at least a portion of what he’s searching for. “No. I haven’t read that far yet.”

Jimin nods, looking slightly disappointed. “Any more questions, or is our Q&A over?” he asks. He looks tired now, looking for all the life of him like he’s lived through multiple worlds. The makeup he’s been wearing earlier for the reading has faded a bit, and Jungkook can see the bags under his eyes now, faint but they’re there.

“One last,” Jungkook says. “Do you still have flashbacks?”

“I stopped having them a little before I went back to Seoul. I had one recently though, but it was short, practically nothing,” Jimin says.

“When was that?”

Jimin tilts his head as if contemplating whether or not he should answer the question. “Last Saturday,” he finally says. His eyes are drilling into Jungkook’s own, assessing his expression, and it appears as though he finds what he’s looking for in the way he leans back. Jungkook can’t help but feel that as much as he’s learned about Jimin, confirming doubts or disproving them, Jimin’s gotten more out of him. “I have one last question for you too,” Jimin says softly, “When’s the last time you were back in Busan?”

Jungkook tenses up as he answers the question. “Last Saturday.”

Jimin nods, unsurprised. “Dadaepo beach is beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, sounding as if he’s talking about the weather and not like he knows something about Jungkook that no one other than his parents know. Jungkook realizes that it’s Jimin’s gamble this time. He wants to know something about Jungkook, and he’s pretty much already gotten it. Jungkook just isn’t sure what.

Jungkook closes his eyes. “I didn’t say anything about Dadaepo beach.”

When Jimin doesn’t respond, he opens his eyes. He knows he’s glaring angrily now, but he can’t help it. Jimin’s toying with him, manipulating the conversation to figure Jungkook out, and although Jungkook doesn’t know what exactly it is that Jimin’s gotten, it irritates him, feeling like Jimin knows more about him than Jungkook knows about Jimin. Jungkook feels like he’s found nearly all of the puzzle pieces now, but he’s staring at all the pieces without a clue on where to fit anything in.

Jimin gives him a rueful smile, “You’re not all that bad after all. You’ll figure it out soon. I have to go, but thanks for keeping me company.” He slides a card across the table, and Jungkook can lightly make out his name and number on it. A business card. Jimin stands up and leaves more than enough money to cover for the bill. Under any other circumstance, Jungkook would be offended, but he’s more confused than anything, and their conversation is replaying in his mind over and over again like a broken cassette tape. He watches as Jimin smiles and waves amicably, probably to show anyone in the cafe that they’re actually friends, but it looks so fake to Jungkook. His eyes aren’t curving up into crescents, and the barely evident dimple on his right cheek isn’t visible. He gives a tentative wave back, hoping he looks convincing for any onlookers. Jimin walks out of the cafe, looking straight ahead with his confident posture. The sound of traffic outside gets a little louder when Jimin opens the door, but it fades away again when the door shuts.

Jungkook decides to think about it later when he gets back home and concentrates on finishing his wrap instead. The light is harsh and glaring now, and Jungkook finds it a little hot where he’s sitting. He startles when a sweet, female voice rings from beside him, “Jungkook oppa?”

When he turns to look at the girl, she squeals a little. She’s holding a piece of notebook paper and a thick marker. “Could I have an autograph?” she says shyly, face reddening slightly.

Jungkook gives her his signature celebrity smile and signs the paper well, adding a short message and a cute little heart. “Ah, oppa! Was that Park Jimin earlier?” she says before she leaves.

Jungkook gives her a little nod, feeling increasingly awkward. “I knew it! He’s still so handsome, even if he looks a little different. Fighting, oppa!” She finally goes back to her group of friends, and he watches as she giggles loudly with all of them. He decides it’s time to get back home. He doesn’t feel like taking a taxi or calling his driver, so he rings Jin up.

“Hyung, can you pick me up here at Sonja’s?”

“Sure, Kook. How’d lunch with Jimin go?” Jin’s voice is cheerful and puts Jungkook at ease.

“I’ll tell you about it later, hyung. Are you free after this?” Jungkook doesn’t have a lot of people to talk to, but if he keeps this in, he’ll go crazy, and as of right now, Jin is his best bet. Even if his manager decides he’s insane, at least he won’t be sent to a therapist because that’s even worse publicity than his upcoming film.

“Yeah, I am. I’ll be there in a while, maybe 15 minutes,” Jin says.

“Great. Let’s hang out at my house,” Jungkook says.

Jin hums distractedly though the phone. Jungkook hears something like the car starting and feels himself relax again for the first time since he saw Jimin.

————————

“Jin hyung,” Jungkook chokes out, feeling betrayed. The manager briefly left Jungkook’s house with the promise of buying them good ramen for dinner, but when Jungkook enthusiastically opens the door, hoping to engage in another bout of stress-eating, he’s greeted with two packages of chicken breast salad and fresh carrot juice.

Jin steps in with a wide grin, a small smile line appearing beside his nose. He sits on Jungkook’s wide couch, placing the food on the table. He changed out of his blue button up and is bundled in a white cashmere sweater. “Why’d you ask me to come here?” he asks.

Jungkook sits across from him, but this time he doesn’t plop his feet on the table. “Can’t I just hang out with my manager?”

Jin lets out a laugh, not a squeaky one but an incredulous one. “You don’t just hang out with people. What’s on your mind?” he heads straight to the point. Jungkook rolls his eyes, not even the slightest bit surprised.

“The things I’m about to tell you are confidential, okay?” Jungkook says seriously, looking straight into Jin’s eyes. “You may or may not think I’ve gone insane, and to be honest, I’m not sure either, but this is the most logical way I can look at it,” he adds. Jin seems to have taken the hint and nods with a concerned expression. Jungkook feels a pit inside his stomach and takes a deep breath. “Gosh, wait, I gotta have some salad first.”

When Jungkook feels his stomach settle again, he decides to continue. “Okay, so you asked me a while back if I’ve been having dreams again. The truth is, my dreams never really stop, and around three years ago, I started having them nearly every night.” Jungkook pauses for a moment, gauging Jin’s reaction before continuing. “It doesn’t sound like anything to be concerned about, but my dreams sort of follow an actual story. Like, how do I explain? Um, like, I always dreams of growing up in Busan as a track and field athlete. I dream of making friends and winning championships, but I was mostly homeschooled, and when I went to a proper high school, I was practically always absent to film and audition and stuff.”

“I also have some dreams about attending university, which I never did. I thought maybe it was just those wishing-for-a-normal-life kind of things, but around three or four weeks ago, I started dreaming about this boy all the time. From what I can tell, I met him during sophomore year during tryouts, and we dated. He started appearing all beat up all the time, and eventually told me he wouldn’t go to university with me. I think the dream me knows why, but I don’t.

“The thing is, there was this one dream that I don’t really understand, but I remember really well. He calls me up, and I’m not sure what he said, but I remember I kept on begging and crying and stuff. He was saying something about winning and about being faster, and when I finally get to where he is, he’s at the edge of a building. He tells me to race him, but it’s not fair because he’s so near the edge already. He runs right off the building, hyung, and I can’t stop him. I don’t know about you, but this all sounds really familiar, right?”

Jin takes a couple of moments to process Jungkook’s words before cautiously speaking. “It sounds exactly like ‘Finish Line’.” Jin furrows his brows, mouth parting slightly. Jungkook recognizes it as confusion, something he doesn’t see on Jin often because he’s always well-informed and ready for anything. Jin shifts forward, whispering almost conspiratorially, “Is this candid camera?”

Jungkook tucks his chin in slightly and raises his brows. Why is Jin like this? “No, hyung, I’m serious,” he says, urgency breaking into his tone.

“Okay, okay, one more question. Are you on drugs?” Jin asks, eyes piercing.

“Hyung!”

“They’re bad for you, Kook,” Jin answers solemnly.

Jungkook groans loudly, choosing to ignore Jin and continue, “There’s another thing, and I swear I’m not lying. The boy looks exactly like Jimin, no, he is Jimin, he has to be. But I’ve never actually seen Jimin before today, so this seriously doesn’t make sense.”

Jungkook carries on despite the obvious doubt on Jin’s face. He tells Jin about the trip to Dadaepo beach and Jimin’s flashback and about how Jimin somehow knew he was there, how Jungkook’s almost sure that the Jimin he saw wasn’t his Jimin. It’s one big mindfuck, but he thinks Jin’s beginning to believe him, even just a bit.

“What are you gonna do now then?” Jin says, crossing his arms.

“Well, I don’t think Jimin lied, but I’m pretty sure he was hiding things,” Jungkook says thoughtfully.

“Here’s what I think,” Jin pipes up, “I think Jimin was doing the same thing you were. You’re trying to figure out if he knows anything, has anything to do with this, and he’s trying to figure out just how much you’re aware of. I say you get to know him better, figure out exactly what he knows, what those flashbacks are then figure out what to do from there.”

“So basically, I do my job?” Jungkook asks with a slightly annoyed quirk of the mouth. He wants to take action now, go in with guns blazing, but Jin’s right. Jimin said he’d figure it out soon, and Jimin’s probably not lying. He nods at Jin, taking a sip of his surprisingly good carrot juice. “Thanks, hyung. I’m not going crazy, right?”

“The world’s crazy anyway. It doesn’t matter,” Jin shrugs. Jungkook feels exhausted now. His mind’s been working overdrive since he stepped foot into that room, and he’s dying to drown out his thoughts with some mindless music or feel-good book.

Filming starts in a couple of weeks, and Jungkook finds himself wondering if he’ll dream again tonight. He’s not entirely sure where he stands with Jimin, but he supposes he’ll figure it out. He brings Jimin’s card out from his pocket and stares at it for a moment. What exactly is he hiding?

Chapter Text

Jimin’s lips are curled in distaste, eyes angrier than Jungkook thought he was capable of. He hasn’t changed out of his sports attire yet, sweaty black shirt clinging to his back, hands balled into fists like it’s the only thing containing his rage. Jimin moves closer to him, standing so close that Jungkook can see the splotchy redness on his cheeks, the smattering of sun spots leading down his chest, and the three small moles dotted on his forehead, cheek, and upper lip. He’s breathing heavily, sweat continuing to pour down his face and causing his hair to cling onto his forehead.

“You’re asking me why I’m mad?” Jimin hisses almost dangerously. “If you think I don’t know, if you think it’s not obvious, then you have another thing coming.”

Jungkook flinches at Jimin’s barely contained rage. He knows it was a mistake, lashing out and questioning why Jimin doesn’t talk to him anymore, doesn’t follow him around and give him that one special little smile because he knows. He knows exactly why Jimin’s so mad, and he knows he could have prevented it, but he didn’t because he’s a coward with no integrity. He reaches out to hold Jimin, desperate to gain even the slightest bit of affection, but Jimin pushes his hand away, the action causing his shirt to shift, revealing the beginning of a blooming bruise underneath his shirt. Jungkook winces as though he’s been hit instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, trying to pour all his sincerity into his words. “I really am, but I can’t change it anymore.”

Jungkook can’t read the expression on Jimin’s face, not for a lack of expressiveness on Jimin’s part but because there are too many emotions rolling around in his deep eyes and quivering on his lips. They’re too clustered, juxtaposed against one another so starkly that Jungkook can’t tell what it is Jimin’s really feeling. He suspects Jimin doesn’t know either, but if there’s one thing they can both be sure of, it’s that Jungkook just screwed up, or more accurately, he’s been screwing up for a very long time now.

Jimin runs his tongue over his chapped lips, calming the trembling for just a moment. “I think more than anything, I’m just really disappointed. There are a lot of things I know you are, but I didn’t think you were like this.”

Jungkook tries to open his mouth, defend himself in any way, but he can’t form any words because Jimin’s right, and he can’t justify anything. Jimin looks right into his eyes, searching for something—anything—familiar, but he looks down after a while, giving up.

“You know I love you, right?” Jimin says, voice wavering slightly. He doesn’t wait for a response before carrying on, “But I don’t think I can stand to even look at you right now. Maybe not for a very long time. I think it would be best if we just—if we just broke it off for now.”

Jungkook feels a flash of panic flare up within him. “Jimin please—“

Jimin cuts him off before he can say anymore. He looks as if he would give in if Jungkook pushed any further, but with his last ounce of integrity, he breaks Jungkook’s heart. “Please, Jungkook. I really can’t deal with you right now.”

Jungkook understands, and he finds himself nodding defeatedly. “Okay, Jimin, but please know that I’m so sorry and that I love you too.”

Jungkook can see the way Jimin’s expression crumples at his words, like it’s the small push that sends his house of cards tumbling down. “Not sorry enough to set things right,” Jimin says softly, and it hits Jungkook so hard that it leaves him breathless on the field as he watches Jimin walk away.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, but no one’s there to hear it anymore. He lets his legs buckle underneath him, landing on the hard ground. A large part of him feels like he just gave up the only thing that was worth it, and the feeling only grows the longer he sits on the very track he gave Jimin up for.

————————

Two weeks have passed since Jungkook last saw Jimin, and his dreams have become less emotionally draining. Jungkook spent most of the time reading through the script, familiarizing himself with his lines. His dreams mostly make sense now, the bruises, the competitions, and Jimin’s inability to enter university, but last night’s dream doesn’t fit in anywhere, and Jungkook feels like there’s a big gap in the timeline, a sudden puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

Most nights, he dreams of training sessions and competitions, not so much Jimin, but last night seems to have been an exception. If his mood had not already been spoiled by the rather depressing dream, the missed calls and texts from both Jin and Jimin would have done it. He grabs his vibrating phone, trying to drown out the sound of IU’s Palette ringing through the cold morning. The season is slowly moving into the last stages of fall, and the temperature is growing colder each day.

He fumbles around trying to get his fingers to cooperate until he’s finally able to slam his thumb down on the answer button. He must’ve forgotten to turn the heating up last night because he can feel the chill wrap around his bones.

“Yes?” he says hoarsely. Having not bothered to check if it was Jin or Jimin calling, he can only pray that the one on the receiving end of his sleep-filled, crackly voice is his manager and not his mysterious co-star.

“Jungkook,” Jin’s voice comes out urgently, a little hoarse from the early morning. Jungkook glances at the time to see that’s it’s barely 6:00 am, and he can think of no reason as to why Jin would be calling him. Jin rarely allows people to see or hear him so undone, so shaken, and Jungkook quickly shakes off the last tendrils of sleep to listen to the man. “Don’t leave your house. Don’t even open your doors or windows. Stay in there, I’ll be coming over soon,” he says. Jin doesn’t wait for a response and neglects to utter any goodbyes as he leaves Jungkook sitting in a bundle of expensive sheets, listening to the dial tone of an ended call while trying to wrap his head around the situation.

His screen tells him that Jin has attempted to call him four times, and Jimin called him twice at around 5:30, giving up without leaving any text messages. It’s unusual to have Jimin call him, the two barely coming in contact since Jimin left Jungkook at Sonja’s. He’s surprised to see a short text message from Yoongi as well, and he opens it hurriedly, hoping it’ll help him make sense of the situation.

Fr: Director Min

Someone leaked the script. Don’t leave your house. Paparazzi’s probably swarming you.

Jungkook waits for what feels like hours, but it’s really only around 10 minutes because Jin doesn’t live too far away. When he hears the ring of the doorbell, he makes sure to check the intercom before letting Jin in. His manager looks frazzled, hair un-styled and lying in straight, flat layers over his forehead. He’s wearing glasses that are decidedly not for fashion, and there’s a certain realness to his skin that has Jungkook realizing that Jin must always wear at least a light layer of BB cream, at least when he’s around Jungkook. He realizes that it’s probably because Jin aims to look presentable at work, and being around Jungkook is his work. Jin’s wearing a basic white sweater with a black logo printed across the front and loose black pants, the type that’s easy to pull on in a rush. He’s wearing low-cut sneakers, and it appears as though in his rush, he’s neglected to put socks on as well.

“Were there lots of paparazzi outside?” Jungkook asks, offering Jin a glass of water.

“Loads,” Jin says with a slight hint of contempt. “Man, I get that it’s their jobs, but they can get a little irritating, you know?”

Jungkook frowns lightly because Jin isn’t normally the type to speak so loosely, but the early morning and the stress must be causing him to become a little more talkative. “Only when they’re not on your side,” Jungkook says. “I heard the script was leaked? How did that happen?” Jungkook asks.

“It was leaked around three hours ago,” Jin says, calming slightly. “It was relatively easy to figure out who it was because one of the staff members quit around last week. From what I heard, he had an attitude problem and fought with a lot of the other staff, especially Yoongi. Anyway, they’ve already pretty much gotten it under control, but now all everyone can focus on is that you’re starring in a gay film, so the media’s having a field day.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in exasperation. “What’s the big deal about it being a gay film. I’m bi! This is predictable. They’re acting like I came out this morning.” After solidifying his spot as a top actor, Jungkook had taken the risk of coming out. It had not been a pretty battle, and to get stable again, he had to go nearly two years struggling to rise back up. Along the way, he’d lost thousands of fans, hundreds of job opportunities, and four managers, but to him, it had been a success story.

“There’ll probably be headlines tomorrow like ‘Openly Gay Actor Bravely Stars in Upcoming Gay Film’ or something equally as stupid,” Jin mutters, tips of his ears turning red.

Jungkook, for the second time that day, is left confused as to why Jin’s manner is so different from usual. He assumed that Jin would have detached himself emotionally and dealt with the matter coolly, like he always does, but it seems as though the situation is ticking him off. “If that happens, tell me to call them up and remind them I’m bi,” Jungkook says, tone dripping with snark.

Eventually, Jin drifts from the living room to Jungkook’s kitchen. “Do you mind if I cook?” he asks, surveying the food in Jungkook’s fridge. He’s grateful he actually went out for groceries before this, so he can enjoy his temporary house arrest with good food. “Go ahead,” Jungkook says. He picks his phone up, turning it in his hand for a moment as Jin bustles about gathering ingredients in the kitchen. It takes him a solid three minutes to decide whether or not he should talk to Jimin, a sense of guilt at having wronged Jimin in his dream last night even though he doesn’t know how exactly, lingering the entire time. Eventually, he caves and sends out a simple text asking him if he’s being swarmed by paparazzi as well. It takes a while for Jimin to respond, and Jin’s pretty much got a nice omelet cooking by the time he answers. It’s a simple ‘Yes, but I’m fine.’, and it in no way satisfies Jungkook’s curiosity.

This movie will be considered a brave new step for Jungkook, but for Jimin it’s probably in the way of his career. Coming back as an actor after three years and choosing to take this particular role as well poses no benefit on his part, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of job opportunities. He could easily star in any film and have it be huge because everyone will be eager to know what movie could have brought Park Jimin back after three years of radio silence. Jungkook supposes there’s a certain reason Jimin would choose this role, and Jungkook’s not sure he’s gonna like it.

————————

Jimin’s lines are highlighted in a delicate pastel pink, and Jungkook’s feeling overwhelmed. He watches Jimin in the chair beside him getting his hair and makeup done, fast asleep in his chair while still holding his script. His hair’s been dyed back to black now, and the stylist’s using a darker shade of foundation to mimic a sun-kissed tan. His eyes are left mostly bare with only a hint of warm almond shades to create depth. His lips are tinted a soft pink, and Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel. He watches the Jimin beside him slowly look more and more like his Jimin, and he doesn’t think it’s fair to him how easily Jimin can transform.

It takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to wrench his eyes away from Jimin’s unconscious form and look back at his own reflection. His dark hair’s being smoothened and parted very slightly across his forehead. He hasn’t been paying attention to his own appearance, so when he lays his eyes on his suddenly tanned skin and emphasized doe eyes, he’s a little surprised. With the hair, he already looked like dream Jungkook, but now their appearances are practically the same. Jungkook wonders how Jimin would react, if he’d react at all.

Jungkook’s in an oversized white shirt and loose, blue pajamas, ready to enter the set. He can see Jimin in a large sweater and denim jeans sitting by the computer desk, slouched over with his hands on his knees. Jungkook doesn’t think he can distinguish this Jimin from his Jimin if he tried, but he steps into the set anyway, glancing around at the familiar space. It’s his room, at least in his dreams, and he finds he’s not all that surprised to see that it looks almost identical. He doesn’t even question it anymore. There’s a large window on the left side and a connected bathroom on the right with a large poster of some track and field athlete Jungkook doesn’t recognize. He moves to stand beside Jimin, placing a hand on the backrest of his chair.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin says, straightening up a little as if he’s suddenly aware of his posture. Jungkook rolls his eyes. He half-expected Jimin to suddenly act differently, more like his Jimin, mostly because of the sudden change in appearance, but it comforts him to realize that there are still distinguishable differences between the two.

Before Jungkook can respond, Hoseok walks towards them with an apologetic smile. “For the next couple of schedules, we’ll be doing all the indoor scenes since the outdoor scenes all happen in the spring and summer time. Again, we’re really sorry we had to film earlier than scheduled. We couldn’t risk anything else being leaked.”

Yoongi approaches as well, sipping an americano. “More importantly, you guys are still a hot topic, so the earlier the film’s released, the more hype it’ll ride on. That leaked script worked in our favor anyway,” he says, and there’s a certain smugness to his tone. Namjoon enters the room with a large bang, and all eyes are directed towards him. Jungkook watches as the writer slowly turns pink at all the attention, obviously not planning on opening the door that hard. Either way, Jungkook would be staring at him anyway. It would be hard not to with his black, circle-lensed sunglasses and his dark, puffy, animal-print coat. He’s carrying a black handbag (‘manbag’ as Jungkook likes to call it) and an iced americano. Jungkook doesn’t know how Namjoon manages to look more and more hipster everyday, but it provides a welcome distraction from Jimin’s appearance. Taehyung greets Namjoon enthusiastically, long white coat above his grey turtleneck flapping about.

Filming starts a little after Namjoon’s dramatic entrance, and Jungkook is feeling way too stiff to act. The cameras are rolling, and he watches as Jimin approaches him excitedly, sweaterpaws in view, and he plops down on the bed, abandoning his usual grace, as he grabs Jungkook’s hands.

“Yoon! Coach is letting me compete in a bunch of events next meet. I heard there’s gonna be loads of scouts there, so maybe I can actually get into a good university,” he says. His eyes are shining, black hair in his eyes, and Jungkook can barely concentrate with the feeling of Jimin’s soft, chubby hands holding his. He’s sure his hands are sweaty and gross, but Jimin’s smile doesn’t falter, even for a single moment. He’s a good actor; that’s the only thing Jungkook can be sure of.

“That’s great,” Jungkook says, and it feels like a lie in his mouth although he’s not too sure why. He’s looking straight into Jimin’s dark eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s the proximity that’s causing his head to spin. A nervous ball settles at the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t think he can look at Jimin for a second longer, so he closes his eyes, trying to calm his dizzy mind. He opens his eyes again, feeling slightly odd, but Jimin’s still there, clutching at his hands and giving him a large smile.

“Hold on, can we start again?” Jungkook calls out, letting go of Jimin’s hands. He stands up from the soft bed to where the lights and cameras are set up, except there’s nothing there. Jungkook’s eyes widen, surveying the empty room with only him and Jimin inside. He glances to his right, and there’s the large poster of the track and field athlete, the window to his left is still there, but when he moves to look out, the tall buildings outside are gone, replaced by provincial homes and old establishments. Jungkook strides over to the formerly closed computer to see that it’s open to the website of some college, and the chair’s neatly tucked in, unlike how it was earlier from Jimin having sat on it. He swivels around quickly to look at Jimin. “What the fuck?” he says rather loudly, eyes wide in panic.

“What—what do you mean, Kookie?” Jimin asks, bottom lip popping out slightly in a confused pout. He looks a little hurt, eyes widening slightly, and his right hand’s lightly clutching the sheets beside him. Jimin nervously pushes his hair away from his forehead, and Jungkook narrows his eyes. Jimin’s calling him Kookie instead Doyoon, and his mind’s running a mile a minute. He tries to find something, anything, that’s different about Jimin, but there’s nothing aside from his apparent cluelessness. Jungkook slowly walks back to him, trying to figure out what to say.

“Jimin,” he tests out, trying to gauge his expression. “You’re, uh, looking to get scouted?” Jungkook asks lamely. He’s expecting Jimin to snap at him, tell him that’s not his line, but all Jimin does is tilt his head. “Of course! I can’t afford uni without a full ride, remember?” Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat as he looks at Jimin. He has the tanned skin, black hair, and slightly shiny lips, but this time it’s not from foundation or a nice lip tint, it’s really him.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says passively, mind going overdrive. He’s waiting for the room to spin, so he can shut his eyes and be transported again, but it doesn’t happen. The wooden floorboards underneath him feels as solid as ever, and Jimin is striking and completely real.

“I hope you’re not upset that I’m running the 800 m this year. I didn’t expect coach to give it to me either,” Jimin mumbles softly, looking slightly upset.

“No, I’m—I’m fine with it,” Jungkook says. In the movie, Jimin doesn’t get that scholarship. He doesn’t win or get scouted. Instead, he has to stop studying and start working odd jobs, but Jungkook can’t dash his hopes because the sparkle in his eyes is too bright to put out. He feels a tightness in his chest, and for the first time, he actually feels sorry for the other boy, hoping things didn’t have to go that way. “Uh, you shouldn’t rely on the scholarship too much though,” Jungkook says tentatively because he knows how this ends, and if he’s here anyway, he should at least try and help.

Jimin looks at him with an odd expression. “If I don’t get the scholarship, that’s it. It’s over, no more track and field for me. You know that.”

“Yeah, but maybe there are alternatives?” Jungkook says, although even he knows there aren’t any. Whatever’s gonna happen, he doesn’t wanna be here for it. Acting it out is already a lot, living it is much worse.

Jimin shrugs before smiling again. “Let’s just hope I get it! Everything always works out in the end, right?” Jungkook feel a little desperate because no, things don’t always work out in the end, and if this will end like he knows it will, Jimin doesn’t stand a chance. He’s about to speak up when Jimin glances at the clock, and he stands so quickly that Jungkook’s taken aback. It takes a while for him to remember that this is how the scene ends. Jimin rushes home, and Jungkook stays here. It was the wrong thing to do, he remembers, but for some reason, his memory’s a little fuzzy, and he’s not too sure what happens when Jimin gets home. He watches as Jimin gives him a quick goodbye and runs down so quickly that Jungkook has no trouble imagining him running on an actual track.

He’s not too sure what compels him to do it, but after a few moments of deliberation, Jungkook’s sprinting after Jimin, trying not to get noticed. When he pulls open his door and jogs down the stairs, he arrives just in time to hear Jimin close the door. He ignores all the open lights and the food on the table. He sees his mom by the kitchen, but he knows she’s dream Jungkook’s mom, not his, and he decides it’s a problem for later. He hesitates for a split second before going out onto the streets, trailing after Jimin. He’s fully aware that he’s still dressed in pajamas, but he can’t find it within him to care. Jimin looks rather panicked, constantly glancing at his watch and running his hand through his hair. He doesn’t bother looking anywhere but straight ahead, and Jungkook follows him with relative ease.

Jimin’s home is not a sight that Jungkook’s ever seen. The small, worn down house doesn’t look like it would be comfortable for a single person to live in, much less Jimin’s whole family which Jungkook knows consists of four, fully-grown people. He stays from where he is across the street, watching as Jimin’s brother, Jonghyun, opens the door, giving him a hug before ushering him in. As far as Jungkook’s knowledge goes, and it’s strictly from what he’s picked up from the script, Jonghyun’s not in school. Jungkook doesn’t even know if that’s his real name. He’s two years younger than Jimin, but they can barely afford to send one kid to school, much less two. He stands there for a while, glancing left and right for anyone to appear, but no one does, and Jungkook’s beginning to think that nothing actually happens, and he’s remembering the script all wrong. He’s about to make his way back home when a black car pulls up right in front of Jimin’s home. It’s a small car with scratches running up the side. It appears as though at some point, the car’s finish would have been glossy, but now it’s all dull, like it’s endured too much rough movement.

It seems to get colder around Jungkook, even though the air outside is nothing like the pre-winter air of his world. He assumes it must be around summer here because the air’s slightly humid, and cold sweat’s starting to break out at the back of his neck. He watches as two men emerge from the car, one wearing a cheap-looking suit and the other wearing a blue button-up with the collar popped down to the third button. They look like office workers out after a day of work to grab a couple of beers, but the way they’re sauntering over to Jimin’s home hints at an intent that’s much more violent than that. He’s frozen on the spot as the two start banging on the door, yelling something that Jungkook can’t really make out. Eventually, the door opens, and Jungkook can’t see if it’s Jimin or Jonghyun who moved to open the door, them having the same head of fluffy black hair.

The area gets deceptively quiet, and Jungkook weighs his options. If he barges in, there’s no way he can fight two big men who are both used to using their fists to get their way. He begins to regret following Jimin because helplessness is overtaking him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Before he knows it, the two men are out again, one holding a rather thick envelope, and Jungkook tries vary hard to ignore the fact the cheap-suit-guy isn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore, and his right sleeve has what looks to be blood stained at the cuff. The car starts up, and Jungkook watches it drive off. When he looks back at the house again it looks more desolate than ever. The lights are turned off now, as far as Jungkook can see through the window, and the more he stares, the colder he feels and the more he sweats.

Another bout of dizziness overtakes Jungkook, and this time he welcomes it with open arms, eager to get out of here. When the wrenching feeling in his gut is gone, he opens his eyes and finds himself back on set, sitting on the soft bed with Jimin lightly grasping his hands. He lets out a choked cough, blinking unfamiliarly at the sight. He can’t bear to look at Jimin’s face right now, feeling as though he’s just failed the other man. He doesn’t know if there’s something he could’ve done, but his knees won’t stop shaking, and he can’t look Jimin in the eye. Jungkook excuses himself to the restroom, splashing his face with cold water and praying that his eyes are red-rimmed because of stress and not because he’s about to cry.

The door to the restroom slams open, and Jin’s standing there, broad shoulders taking up most of the space in the doorway. He moves forward to Jungkook’s side, looking at him in concern but staying silent as if he’s waiting for Jungkook to speak. Jungkook doesn’t feel like speaking though, so he lets his body sag forward towards the mirrors, hands grasping the edge desperately. Jin reaches out carefully, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. There’s nothing but the sound of Jungkook’s harsh breathing for a while until the door opens again, gentler this time, and Jimin steps in, still in the same outfit as earlier.

“You know something,” Jungkook says. His voice is hard, like steel running through his throat, and he’s sure he still looks like a mess. He can recall so vividly the way Jimin’s eyes sparkled, the way he smiled and talked. The feeling of helplessness and dread is still lodged in his chest like a 9 mm bullet, and he feels the nighttime humidity out on the street cling onto his back and plaster his hair to his forehead even though he’s indoors now nearing winter.

Jimin doesn’t look all too surprised or confused. His steps are silent as he approaches Jungkook, and they keep their eyes trained on each other the entire time. Jungkook doesn’t take a single breath as Jimin approaches him, letting the air build up inside his lungs like it’ll keep his emotions inside as well. He can’t find it within himself to summon the usual contempt for the actor. The two images of Jimin are blurring in his mind, and Jungkook is more than a little confused. When Jimin is close enough to touch, Jungkook repeats his statement, “You know something.” Jimin doesn’t say a thing, but he gives Jungkook a small nod, black hair shifting across his face.

Jungkook takes a shaky breath, and he can feel Jin’s perplexed gaze move from him to Jimin and then to him again. “Explain.”

————————

Filming continues among the minor cast members, but Jungkook and Jimin are off for the day. Jungkook already expects Yoongi to come yelling at him, but he’s surprisingly calm about the whole situation and only gives the both of them a perfunctory wave of his hand, signaling that they’re free to go. Jimin insists on having their conversation privately, and he brings Jungkook all the way to a spare room in their filming location and shoos the staff members out, locking the door behind them. It’s the master’s bedroom, Jungkook realizes, and he can only watch as Jimin drags the desk chair towards the bed and sits down on it, knees pulled up to his chest. Jungkook sits across from Jimin on the bed, eyeing him curiously.

“What do you know?” Jungkook asks, planting his elbows on his knees, thankful that he’s much calmer now.

“Before I answer that, I have to know what you know first,” Jimin says as if it’s an obvious fact.

Jungkook considers delivering a snappy response, but he decides he’s too curious to be intelligent about this. “I’m sure you and I met at Dadaepo beach that day but not in this world or timeline or whatever. I know that you appear in my dreams a lot and that a lot of the things I dreamed about are in the script somehow. I know that you know something about this. That’s pretty much it, for the rest, I’m just about clueless. I don’t know why I get those dreams or why you had your flashbacks. I don’t know what Doyoon and Junho have to do with this, and above all, I don’t know what the fuck just happened during filming earlier because that is in no way possible.” Jungkook’s voice steadily rose throughout his entire spiel, but not loud enough to be overheard.

Stress is evident on Jimin’s face, and he reaches up to massage his temples before speaking. “Well, that’s a pretty good start,” he says. “Let me give you a little backstory, honest backstory this time.” Jimin takes a deep breath before speaking. “I used to have dreams all the time too. In them, I learned modern dance and lived in Seoul and had a baby brother named Jihyun. We started out at at least upper middle class, my dad was a doctor, a general practitioner, and mom was a housewife. My dad started getting into gambling, and eventually, we had to run away because my dad borrowed money from loansharks, and they were starting to look for us. We moved to Busan because everything’s cheaper there, even schooling, and as you know, I moved to track.”

“We were okay for a while until my dad discovered online gambling.” Jimin stops to laugh dryly, like even he knows it’s ridiculous. “He had a bit of a lucky streak at first, but obviously, we started going into debt again. We moved from house to house and had to sell nearly all our furniture. It was a shitty time. The loansharks found us eventually, that’s why I always showed up so beat up. It was either that or they’d hit Jihyun, and I couldn’t have that.”

Jimin looks a little shaken, and his voice is soft, bordering on feminine now. Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell him that these are things he’s pretty much already read on the script, so he keeps quiet, waiting for Jimin to continue.

“Right, so, as for my real life, I started getting what I call flashbacks while I was filming my drama series. I said it was because the content hit too close to home, but actually, it was completely unrelated. I think you understand what I mean when I say the flashbacks aren’t just flashbacks, you’re actually living it, and they’re not from your past.”

“Where are they from then? Parallel universes? Past lives?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m not sure either, but my best guess is parallel universes. The thing is, whatever you do there, I think it actually happens, Jungkook. Not here, but possibly somewhere else. I’ll venture a guess and say you haven’t been there for a long time, but the longer you stay inside, the less you remember from here. I had those flashbacks all the time. For a while, I essentially lived as Park Jimin, track athlete, and I believed it too, so imagine how it felt when I ran off that building and opened my eyes suddenly back in my room in Daegu with my uncle calling me for dinner like no time had passed at all. I was so confused!” Jimin’s eyes are wide open, pupils shot wide.

“What’s the point then? Of getting the flashbacks,” Jungkook says in a hushed voice. None of this is really helping his predicament. All he’s getting is a rising sense of panic.

“I think it’s a second chance. There’s no happy ending for us there, so we’re being sent from here instead to fix things. I obviously fucked up since I jumped off that building—“

“Why did you jump off?” Jungkook blurts out before his mind can put a filter on it, and he thinks of a thousand and one ways to subtly slam his face into the bedpost because he’s pretty sure no one in the world is as insensitive as him.

Jimin sighs in exasperation, “You don’t remember this world when you’re there for a while. To me, everything was real, like that’s the life I’ve lived since birth. I think it’s because I was in their world. To compensate for crossing worlds or whatever the sci-fi term is, you have to become them, otherwise where does their consciousness go?”

Jungkook nods, “That sounds pretty smart. I believe it. I have a question though, how did this movie get made then?”

“Ah, right. Hoseok’s one of the producers for my first film. I approached him because I was trying to call you out, and he liked the idea, so he got everything in order for me.”

“Does he know then?”

“Everyone you met at the first reading knows, except for Jin, I guess. That’s your choice,” Jimin shrugs.

“Then it’s not a secret anymore since so many people know,” Jungkook says, drawing his brows together. His skin’s starting to itch from the foundation, and he wonders if he’s breaking out from it.

“It’s still a secret if less than ten people know about it. For now, we’re in the clear, but let’s keep the count below that,” Jimin says. Jungkook stays silent, not really knowing what to say, and Jimin squeezes his legs a little tighter to his chest. “There’s one more thing,” he says softly after a while.

Jungkook looks at Jimin, “Yeah?” He’s never really been the most eloquent.

“I’m sure you’ll be crossing over again—“

“So we should give the world a code name?” Jungkook suggests.

“No, well actually that’s a good idea, but I meant something else. When you get there,” Jimin pauses for a moment, hesitating once and hesitating again before speaking, “Don’t fall in love.”

Don’t fall in love? It’s an odd thing to say, and Jungkook wonders why Jimin chooses to say it. It dawns on him that the puzzle’s still not complete yet. There’s one key piece that doesn’t fit quite yet, no matter how elaborately Jimin pieces it together for him. “Jimin, what was it that I did wrong?”

Jimin lets out a sound of confusion, not processing his question.

“I had a dream a while back. You were mad at me, really mad. You said you were disappointed and that you couldn’t stand to look at me.”

Jimin freezes for a moment, and Jungkook wonders if it was the wrong thing to ask. “Let’s talk about that next time,” Jimin finally says, just as the tension in the air gets too suffocating. Jungkook’s gotten more information than he thought he would, so he decides to let it go for now.

“So how about calling the parallel world imitation nation?” Jungkook pipes up.

“Shut up.”

————————

“This is strictly to prepare you, alright?” Jimin says uncomfortably. He fiddles with his oversized Gentle Monster shades, pushing his black hood off his head as he settles in one of the diner’s booths. He taps his foot on the black and white checkered floor. Jungkook sits across from him, momentarily stunned by how good Jimin’s black attire looks against the red and white leather seats. Jimin sets his glasses on the table, glancing around at the colorful illustrations up on the walls and the two streaks of neon lights in red and sky blue running across the edges of the ceiling.

Jungkook can tell that Jimin’s not wearing any makeup today, and it’s somewhat endearing, the way his cheeks are lightly flushed and there’s a very light smattering of pimples on his right cheek, most likely from wearing makeup to film all the time. “Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook mutters, reaching for the menu. Jungkook had gone in to their next shootings fully expecting to enter dream world, but it simply doesn’t happen. All their indoor scenes are done now, at least the ones set in Doyoon and Junho’s houses, and Jungkook’s feeling a bit on edge, wondering if he isn’t being given a second chance after all.

A petite, long-haired waitress takes their order, eyes wide and stuttering the entire time as she blatantly stares at the two actors. She scurries away to grab them food, hair swinging from her high ponytail. “I bet there’ll be news about us dating tomorrow,” Jungkook says half-jokingly. Jimin only frowns. It’s officially winter now, quite a while since they first started acting together, but Jungkook finds that Jimin, no matter how comfortable he’s grown, always has a bit of reservation around him. Their filming goes smoothly all the time, but as soon as the camera stops rolling, Jimin’s quick to move away. Jungkook finds it a little frustrating, seeing as Jimin’s practically told Jungkook both of his life stories, and now their relationship is reduced to half-hearted conversations.

“Teach me your ways, oh great Jimin,” Jungkook says sarcastically as he waits for his burger and milkshake to arrive. He glances around with slight paranoia, hoping Jin won’t suddenly pop up and tell him to eat healthy food. The waitress comes back, setting a plate of salad in front of Jimin, hand still quivering. She quickly informs them that Jungkook’s order will take another five minutes, so Jungkook contents himself watching Jimin.

“You’re only getting a salad?” Jungkook asks, fingers drumming on the table. Jimin gives him a shrug, but he doesn’t make a move to start eating. “Why aren’t you eating yet?” Jungkook asks again, and he knows he’s being annoying, but the past month has been much too normal, and Jungkook’s half out of his mind with anticipation.

“I’ll eat when your food’s here,” Jimin mumbles, cheeks flushing slightly. That was strangely considerate, Jungkook thinks, but he doesn’t mention it in case Jimin starts eating out of spite.

An awkward silence settles in the booth, and Jungkook suddenly feels stuffy in his overly puffy, army green bomber jacket and grey beanie. He pulls the beanie off and sets it on the table as well. He shifts uncomfortably for a while, wondering if it would make it more awkward to speak now. In the end, he caves, “Okay, so while we’re waiting, I’d like to remind you that you still owe me one story.”

Jimin’s frown deepens, “I thought you’d forget about that.”

“I need to know, right? If I wanna make things right, I have to know. It’s not like I’m gonna get hurt or anything,” Jungkook says. He sets his elbows on the table, supporting the weight of his head with his left palm. A large burger is placed right in front of him moments later along with a tall milkshake with two straws. The waitress must’ve thought it was for sharing. He notices Jimin eyeing the milkshake, an unreadable expression on his fave. “You want?” Jungkook offers. He swears he sees Jimin’s face redden, but he chalks it up to the red neon light casting odd colors on his pale skin.

Jimin shakes his head, finally taking a bite from his salad. “Do you really wanna know?” he asks after swallowing down his first bite. Jungkook gives him a small nod, engrossed in devouring his burger. Jimin blinks a second too long, pressing his lips together. “Alright, here goes.”

Chapter Text

There’s one fake rose in a dusty, pale blue vase set up on an old wooden table. Jimin opens his eyes to a scene he’s grown accustomed to, two worn-out mattresses on the floor with unravelling blankets piled on top. It’s too humid in the small, dark room, but Jimin knows he’ll be scolded for opening the lights when the curtains that have been carelessly thrown open are apparently allowing enough natural sunlight to pass through its smudged panes. Above everything, Jimin absolutely hates opening his eyes to this scene because the bleakness of the home charges his very core with leaden sorrow.

A groan sounds out from beside Jimin, long limbs sticking out from underneath a moth-eaten blanket that looks like it was once a nice baby pink but is now grey, like everything else in this damned home. “Hyung, you’re awake?” a voice travels through the humid room. Jimin turns to look at Jihyun, but his side screams in protest, fire strumming his ribs and ripping up his stomach and side. He winces and gently places a hand where it hurts.

“Careful, hyung,” Jihyun says softly, “They hit you really hard last night.”

“I’m fine,” Jimin says, like he always does when he opens his eyes to this. He’s not really fine, with the pain licking up his side. He’s thankful that this time he wasn’t here to experience the actual beating, but the soreness he feels is only a little better, and the look on his brother’s face is just as painful. Jimin wants to stay, hug his brother and tell him that they’re gonna be alright, but he knows he doesn’t have the time. He’ll start forgetting again soon, so the faster he gets going, the better. He moves out of the room, still unused to the loud creaking sound of the door as its un-oiled hinges twist against each other. He ignores the chipped paint and the rusty doorknob, he even ignores the way his bare, aching feet pad across the dirty floor.

His mother’s not in the house, Jimin’s well-aware. It’s only Jihyun in the room and his father passed out on the floor in front of an outdated radio. There’s a bottle of beer beside the radio, and Jimin scowls heavily at his prostrate form. They can’t afford the beer, Jimin’s sure, and he feels a burning rage towards the shriveled excuse of a father, lying intoxicated and pathetic on the uncleaned floor. Jimin’s father doesn’t get up until noon, and Jimin’s mother is out working until her hands are calloused and cracked, just to support the family.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened last night. The sharks came again, and Jimin, this world’s Jimin, took another hit. He can practically see it playing in his mind, the way Jihyun must have been waiting anxiously in their room, flinching at every scream or crash that makes it through the thin walls. His mother must have handed over with shaky hands whatever money they had that month and pleaded for them not to hurt her son. Jimin must’ve been angry. He must’ve felt a strong sense of injustice from the way cheap suit and greasy button-up whose names he can’t even remember step all over them and rip their lives apart. Those two must have spouted some bullshit about making sure the money’s here next week and delivering a little warning to Jimin about what happens when they don’t cooperate, and as usual, greasy button-up will spit on the floor next to Jimin’s tired form before leaving. His father, not worth mentioning, is probably cowering by the corner, no furniture left to hide behind, trying to figure out his lucky numbers for the day.

There’s a little bit of beer left in the bottle, and it sloshes around at the bottom. He takes a look at the label, and he realizes the brand’s familiar, remembering something about his uncle liking the same brand. Jimin’s head swims a little with confusion. His uncle, from which world? It takes a while for him to remember that dream Jimin doesn’t have any uncles, but as soon as he walks out the door, the fact is faded again, smudged at the edges of his mind. He recoils from the sunlight as it hits his face and invades his eyes that have long-since adjusted from the dark interiors of his so-called home. He turns to look at it and feels a pang of pity for dream Jimin. This is actually where he lives every single day, and it must take a man of incredible strength to stay sane with all that.

The sky’s gloomy today, but the air’s just as humid as ever, clinging onto his body uncomfortably. He realizes he’s wearing a sweater with a bit of blood by the neckline, and he reaches up to the side of his mouth. There doesn’t seem to be any crusted blood there, but from the pain in his abdomen and side, he guesses he must have coughed up a little blood. No big deal, he decides, at least nothing’s broken.

Jimin’s been to Busan once before, as himself, and he doesn’t quite recall it being so dull and lifeless, but the image that presents itself to him now is painfully devoid of hope or happiness. Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what he’s doing here, but he supposes there must be a mission, something for him to accomplish, and he just can’t figure out what it is.

There’s a small, newspaper stand a little way from his house, and he picks one newspaper up, eyes honing in on the date printed above. He doesn’t need it. He knows it’s Saturday, but the proof calms him and clears his mind. By now, he’s memorized the path, his feet moving almost on their own to his destination. He spots the same friendly faces and old stores with big, faded Hangul written across the storefront, passes by the small yellow bicycle that’s always propped up beside a cozy house with a small garden. Resentment rises up within him as the bicycle comes into view, appearing more like mockery than a bright embellishment to the streets of Busan. He finally reaches the field he has become familiar with in the past months through various montages of training and fresh air and a certain tall boy.

Someone’s waiting for him at the field, he realizes. It’s a lean man in laid-back training attire holding a clipboard with an ID strung around his neck. The memories come back to Jimin, unwelcome and unbidden. The more he remembers of this life, the less he remembers of himself. Jimin gets close enough to read his coach’s expression, and it’s an odd mixture of displeasure and guilt, like he’s about to be forced to do something wrong. He moves forward until they’re face to face, and it still surprises him when he looks into the man’s face and finds it familiar, something that’s been a fixture in his life for a while. He feels his cheeks lift up and tense a little, and he realizes he’s smiling. It’s not something he would do given the expression on his coach’s face, but the other Jimin is the type of person to smile at anyone, and the response comes to Jimin naturally, a sign that he’s slowly losing control.

“Hey, coach,” Jimin finds himself saying. His voice sounds odd to himself, as if he’s using the same voice in a different register.

“Jimin, you’re late,” coach says. Jimin doesn’t allow himself to furrow his brows. He came here completely out of impulsiveness, but it appears that he really did have plans to talk to his coach. He can’t be late to anything that hasn’t been scheduled.

He doesn’t know the purpose yet, but it’s there, niggling at the back of his mind. Playing it safe, he says, “Sorry.”

His coach lets out a large breath. “It’s alright. Actually, I should be apologizing,” he says. His gaze travels from Jimin’s face to his sweater. “Is that blood?” he asks in alarm.

Jimin glances down at his sweater, trying to look shocked. He’s forgotten about the bloodstain. “Of course not!”, and he giggles as convincingly as he can. “It’s just a stain. I wasn’t careful when I was eating this morning.” His coach isn’t looking all too convinced, so Jimin swiftly changes the topic, “Why would you be sorry?” There’s an automatic tilt to his head, and he scowls internally because the other Jimin’s mannerisms are already taking over him.

He watches as coach fidgets a little, looking uncomfortable and a little pained. “About the 800 m,” he says slowly, “I know I told you it was yours yesterday, but we gotta give it to Jeon.”

It comes back to him in pieces. The 800 m. The happiness he felt knowing that he has a chance now. Jungkook congratulating him. And now it’s not his anymore.

————————

It’s been a week, and Jimin’s losing the last threads of himself. His world is gone, muddied and grey by the dingy ceiling and dirty walls of his current home. There’s a persistent thump of hopelessness and desperation in his stomach, and he can feel the weakness in his legs from a week of missed trainings. He thinks he understands now what it means to be Jimin. He wakes at the sound of the doorbell ringing. It’s not the pleasant ding of normal doorbells but one that buzzes so loudly it shakes their whole house and strikes a certain chord of anxiety in Jimin’s chest. He lies for a moment, staring at the peeling, discolored paint from the walls and somehow gathers the strength to slowly get up and make his way to the door.

Jihyun’s sleeping fitfully beside him, sweat beaded on his brow, but he doesn’t even stir at the sound of the doorbell. Jimin shakes his head fondly as he rubs sleep from his eyes and moves to the door. He pulls the flimsy door open.

“I’m taking you to the beach, Jimin!” Jungkook says brightly, backpack slung across a muscular shoulder. Jimin opens his eyes, disoriented from the morning and cheek still stinging. He wonders how he looks right now with a bruising cheek and disheveled hair and sweaty, rumpled clothes. He watches as Jungkook takes in his appearance and lets his smile slip for a moment before beaming brightly again. “Well, aren’t you gonna go get ready?” he asks. The backpack on his shoulder is in camouflage print, and Jimin finds it funny how impossible it would actually be to hide the bag with it’s sheer size and mass.

“Okay, okay,” Jimin says hoarsely. His throat is tight and dry, and he finds it hard to work the syllables out of his mouth, but he still smiles at Jungkook. “I’ll go shower first.”

Jungkook moves as if to go inside, and Jimin blocks him bodily. “You can’t go in!”

Jungkook looks at him questioningly, “Why not?”

“It’s messy” Jimin responds, breathless. The movement causes his cheek to tense slightly, but the pain is bearable. He can’t let Jungkook in. He can’t let him see, validate with his own eyes, just how pathetic Jimin’s life is. He thinks of his father, passed out on the floor. He thinks of the ratty sheets and the old radio and the dusty rose, and he knows if Jungkook saw any of them, he wouldn’t be able to face him in shame.

Jungkook doesn’t push the issue, nodding in understanding. “I’ll wait here then.”

Jimin rushes in and out of the shower, pausing only to give his brother a quick goodbye. No one will miss him, even Jungkook knows, so he steps out. Jungkook’s leaning on the wall beside the door, holding his backpack to his chest and humming a cheerful tune. He spots Jimin as soon as the door opens, and he smiles. “Come on.”

It’s a bit of a long ride from Jimin’s house to Dadaepo beach, but it’s spent pleasantly with soft music playing from the speakers and the windows rolled down to allow the clean, provincial air to run past their cheeks and rumple their hair.

“Did you even get your driver’s license yet?” Jimin asks, laughing into the air.

“I have a student’s license,” Jungkook says cheekily, grinning out the windshield and driving with one hand. Jimin watches Jungkook in his loose white shirt and blue board shorts, admires the way the fabric clings to his broad shoulders but hangs nicely the rest of the way. His hair’s a nice deep black, flying around and wind-tossed and exposing his forehead. The sun’s shining brightly around him as he whoops loudly, laughing and grinning like the perfect image of reckless youth. Jimin can’t keep his eyes away from Jungkook’s face, and he finds himself laughing along uncontrollably. It’s only ever around Jungkook that he feels the heaviness lift from his shoulders, like the older boy’s presence is granting him a small reprieve from the crushing sadness that normally envelops him.

The expanse of perfect, untouched sand paired with the sparkling ocean and the stunning mountainous landscape is breathtaking in every aspect. Jimin stands there for a while, unmoving, before Jungkook starts dragging him off to his secret spot. There’s a large rock overlooking the ocean, and Jungkook plops down on the warm sand with his back plastered to the smooth stone. A rush of affection washes over Jimin, and he presses close to Jungkook, perfectly feeling his toned arms against his own.

“They came again?” Jungkook asks. Jimin sighs heavily against him. He wishes Jungkook would stop asking. He doesn’t want to bring his two worlds together because being with Jungkook is pure and happy, so vastly different from his reality, and bringing it up hurts like the opening up of a void within him. He vaguely processes himself answering before Jungkook speaks again.

“I know you don’t like it when I say this, but isn’t it better to just report it?” Reporting it would mean getting his father in trouble, and as despicable as the man is, Jimin can’t do that to him. Jungkook’s words are bringing back an array of unwanted emotions, and he needs Jungkook to stop speaking, to go back to being the careless, happy boy that occasionally runs like Naruto on track or does backflips on the sidelines. Jimin does the only thing he can think of and kisses him, effectively stopping him from speaking any longer. He can feel heat flare up within him, and he’s standing up right after, giggling in embarrassment.

The beach is empty, even in the summer, and Jungkook’s broad shoulders and strong frame are taking up Jimin’s entire view. His eyes gravitate towards Jungkook’s doe eyes and large nose and pierced ears, and he feels a sense of something so utterly overwhelming that it leaves him breathless and wondering how he could have ever deserved someone like Jungkook. They’re both soaking wet from playing in the water, and Jimin’s waterlogged clothes are heavy on his small frame. Jungkook helps pull him up, and they stand under the sun for a while, feeling the water at the nape of his neck begin to dry. There’s a short, tense moment where Jimin’s standing so close to Jungkook that it almost feels like kissing before Jungkook reaches out to cup his cheek. Jungkook’s hand is slightly rough and entirely too large for Jimin’s face, but it’s charming, the way he’s so gentle and the way he stares so intensely that he doesn’t even blink. His lips are thin, but they’re parted almost innocently, and Jimin finds himself so completely captivated.

Jimin watches as the sunlight strikes Jungkook’s cheek and illuminates him in a beautiful tanned gold. He doesn’t have the time to think before Jungkook’s lips are on his, and there’s a tingling sensation spreading from the point of contact to his arms and legs. It’s heady and warm, and it makes him feel so completely safe when he feels Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him even closer. Jimin’s up on the tips of his toes, but he doesn’t mind at all, and his arms find their way up to Jungkook’s neck, then further up, tangling into his thick hair as he feels it wave slightly in the wind. If he could stay like this with Jungkook forever, he thinks it would be fine to never breathe again, and he kisses him until he can’t feel his lips, until he can’t separate Jungkook’s form from his, until he realizes that he’s more than a little in love with Jeon Jungkook.

When they finally break free, Jimin’s panting. His mind is running with too many emotions and very little thought, and he feels as though his knees might buckle at any moment. He feels Jungkook lean his forehead on his, and he finds himself caught up in Jungkook’s gaze. His eyes are dark and clouded, pupils shot open and wide as they bore into Jimin’s own. Jimin thinks that he’s absolutely beautiful like this with his tall nose and strong brows and lovely, lovely eyes. Jimin thinks that if he died right at this moment, he’d die the happiest he’s ever been in his life. The feeling of Jungkook’s lips on his still lingers, and the moment is so deeply intimate that Jimin can’t risk doing anything other than breathing in fear that it would break the perfectly tranquil scene. He feels warm breath on his burning cheeks, and he can feel Jungkook’s voice, deeper than usual, rumble through his chest and arms. “I’ll get a nice gold medal someday, and I’ll make sure to give it to you.”

Tears slip down Jimin’s cheeks, but he barely notices. “I love you,” he feels it slip past his lips. It feels like a secret held in too long, fighting it’s way to the surface, now bursting from Jimin’s lips. He says it softly but with a certainty that hits him harder than anyone ever could. He’s never known something to feel so true, so completely right, and his tears fall harder, dripping down his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his chin, and dropping down to their feet, washed away by the swirling waves and carried into the ocean like a promise, the way a letter in a bottle would float for years in the hopes of being taken and read and reciprocated.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he says it over and over again, saying it as if he’s breathing it because to him breathing and loving are the only two things he has the luxury to have, and he’ll be damned before he lets anyone stop him from confessing it, yelling it out to the world.

He feels Jungkook’s arms tense and tighten, and the sensation is all he can think about, two bands of warmth around his waist. Jungkook holds him like he’s telling him that it’s gonna be alright. “I love you too,” Jungkook says, and he’s reaching down again, kissing him gently, slowly, softly. It takes Jimin’s breath away, and when they finally move back to the car, dripping all over the seats and giggling all over each other, Jimin feels like he could conquer the world.

————————

“About the 800 m,” Jungkook says, “I’m sorry.”

The words don’t serve the slightest bit of consolation to Jimin, in fact, it makes him feel worse. It makes him feel guilty for feeling wronged.

“I talked to coach, but he’s really set on it,” he continues.

“It’s fine,” Jimin says. The ride back home is long, and the car’s all too small for Jimin to avoid the topic or Jungkook’s apologies. “It’s not your fault. You’re a great athlete, I’m sure you’ll do well. Don’t mind me, I’m fine.”

Jungkook takes his eyes off the road to focus on Jimin, and Jimin can feel Jungkook observe him, wonder if he’s really alright. Jimin tries to relax. He never had a chance anyway. He shouldn’t have hoped, he knew that. In the end, Jungkook was always the better athlete, but Jimin let himself believe for a single moment that he actually had a future.

Jungkook reaches over to grab Jimin’s hand. The windows are rolled up now, and the sky’s getting a little dark, but Jimin can see Jungkook’s features so clearly. The guilt he feels shows through the slight pout in his lips and the furrowed brows. The injustice in the way his eyes are sparking in displeasure and his hand tightens around Jimin’s. The promise for a gold medal in his squared shoulders and tensed neck. Jimin tightens his hand around Jungkook’s as well.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

But Jimin isn’t fine, and Jungkook’s a first class liar.

“Yeah, I had to go to the office after training since I’m always late, so I was there to see it. It was Jeon and his parents for sure,” a fellow senior from the team tells him, toweling his sweat off.

“Are you sure?” Jimin says. He’s gripping his old gym bag tightly between his fingers. He needs to get home, put together whatever they have and make a pathetic dinner, but he’s frozen in his spot, unable to leave until he finds out the truth.

“Definitely. It’s unfair honestly, but you know Jeon’s parents are ambitious, and coach doesn’t even try to hide that Jeon’s his favorite. I’d say you’re getting the short end of the stick here. Man, if I were you, I’d be pissed.”

Jimin feels the world tilt around him. “Where’s Jeon?”

The sky’s a grayish blue above the track. Normally, Jimin would find it soothing, moving under the open air, and feeling the grass crunch underneath him, but right now, all he sees is red. It makes sense, he realizes. The guilty look on coach’s face and the guilty look on Jungkook’s. How set coach was to give him the 800 m and how quickly he took it back. Why Jungkook was so eager to give him the gold medal and why he kept on apologizing. He reaches into his gym bag as he storms down the track, feeling his fingers wrap around a heavy golden medal. When Jungkook takes sight of him and begins to smile, Jimin wrenches the medal out of his bag and throws it at Jugkook’s feet.

“You’re a two-faced liar,” Jimin hisses at him. He knows he’s turning red, and he’s still in sweaty training clothes, but seeing Jungkook’s expression only causes his anger to worsen.

Jungkook looks startled and the slightest bit scared as he bends down to pick the medal up. “Why are you mad?” he asks. Jimin feels his lips curl up in distaste, and he balls his fists to keep from doing anything he’d regret, and he storms over to Jungkook.

“You’re asking me why I’m mad? If you think I don’t know, if you think it’s not obvious, then you have another thing coming.” Jimin watches as realization and guilt floods Jungkook’s expression, and he feels a burst of pain at the knowledge that Jungkook really did it. He really took Jimin’s one chance at a proper life and threw it down the drain for his own selfish reasons. Any bit of room for doubt disappears, and a sense of defeat weighs down on his shoulders.

Jimin shoves Jungkook’s hand away as he reaches his hand out to him. Jungkook’s shoulders slump down, and Jimin hates seeing it. Jungkook’s always confident, and he always wins, and he doesn’t let anything weigh him down, but Jimin sees his mask lower, his defenses drop. He realizes that below his projected aura of confidence and assuredness, he’s not all that golden.

“I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t change it anymore,” Jungkook says. His voice is pained and desperate, and it gives Jimin a pang of pain and satisfaction to hear it. Jimin knows he’s shaking, that he’s trembling at the amount of unidentifiable emotions bubbling inside him and trying to spill out. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity, and as he looks at Jungkook, he realizes that he doesn’t have it in him to get mad anymore. He feels the fight go out of his body, but he’s still trembling. He runs his tongue over his lips, trying to calm himself down.

“I think more than anything, I’m just really disappointed,” he says. It comes as a realization to him that he’s disappointed. He’s disappointed that Jungkook couldn’t be his golden escape, that he’s still human, and he’s not perfect. He knows it’s wrong to view Jungkook that way, that it’s unfair to him, but Jimin feels wronged and hurt, and he doesn’t wanna see Jungkook any longer because it reminds him of his own faults and misgivings. “There are a lot of things I know you are, but I didn’t think you were like this.”

He watches as Jungkook scrambles for words that won’t come out of his mouth, and Jimin searches him one last time, trying to see if he read him wrong, trying to see if this could be fixed. He gives up after a while, defeated.

“You know I love you, right?” Jimin says. His voice is wavering, and he knows he’s about to cry. He knows they can’t go on like this, and as much as it breaks his heart, it has to end. “But I don’t think I can stand to even look at you right now. Maybe not for a very long time. I think it would be best if we just—if we just broke it off for now.”

“Jimin please—“ Jungkook says, and Jimin can feel tears prick the back of his eyes. He has to leave now, or else he’ll cave and forgive Jungkook and let this continue until it ruins them both.

“Please, Jungkook. I really can’t deal with you right now,” he says, and he watches as Jungkook’s face falls. He looks so utterly devastated, and Jimin can feel his legs shake. He can practically feel his heart shatter into a million little sharp pieces and lodge themselves in his lungs promising pain every time he breathes. For a moment, he thinks Jungkook might try to argue, but he nods defeatedly, “Okay, Jimin, but please know that I’m so sorry and that I love you too.”

Jimin feels his breath leave him, and his face crumples. He can’t stand it anymore, and if he stays here any longer, he’ll fall apart. Why did Jungkook have to love him? Why did Jungkook have to feel guilty? It would have been so much easier if he scoffed in Jimin’s face and said that he feels no remorse, but his apologies are sincere, and his pain is so raw that it cuts right into Jimin’s heart. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and reminds himself to ignore it. “Not sorry enough to set things right,” Jimin says softly, and with his last bit of resolve, he walks away.

————————

The walk back home is nothing short of painful. He receives a couple of messages from people on the team, all asking him if he’s going to Jungkook’s celebratory party, but he ignores every single one and stuffs his phone deep into his sweaty shorts. He walks past the same yellow bicycle leaning against the wall of the home with the pretty garden, and he doesn’t stop to glare at it like usual. He walks draggingly, worn down shoes crunching on gravel, and he feels listless and heavy.

It hits him all of a sudden, the despair, the hopelessness. There’s nothing left for him to do, nothing left to live for. There’s no bright future for him, and if he keeps on studying, none for Jihyun as well. He won’t be doing track anymore, and Jungkook’s gone, and he can’t keep on going like this. He doesn’t want to wake up every Friday morning, waiting in fear for them to come. He doesn’t want to watch his brother waste away, unable to grow and learn. He doesn’t want to live everyday, waking up to the same grey room with the fake rose and the uncleaned floor. With each step, the pain in his chest grows, but he can’t seem to cry. The world looks so utterly grey, even the vast sky, and he feels the weight of the world rest on his shoulders, pushing him down and telling him that it’s over, that he should give up.

He walks until his house comes into view. It looks more solemn in the darkening sky, and stepping in feels like surrender. He leaves his shoes in a dirty heap by the door, heading straight for the shower. Jimin enters their one small room and steps into the cramped bathroom. He stands under the water, used to the too-small trickle of water that flows from the shower head. He lets the water remain cold, making a half-assed effort to get clean, but he feels so utterly tired and beat down by the world that he slumps in the shower after a while, letting the water slowly wash the suds away. When he steps out again, he finds that he can’t stay in the empty room, so he walks out into their pathetic excuse for a living room and sits by his father.

His father is in a stained shirt, one that Jimin suspects has been on him for a while, and he’s nursing a bottle of soju this time. Normally, Jimin would feel a bit of irritation at the sight of the drink, but this time, he only stares dazedly at the translucent green bottle. The radio isn’t on, and Jimin looks around for it, finding it by the corner where it must have been left last time. He doesn’t understand why he’s sitting here, why now, out of all days, he willingly moves closer to his father. Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel much anger anymore, in fact, he feels nothing at all except a looming sense of despair. His father glances at him with bloodshot eyes, offering him the bottle. Jimin takes it wordlessly, tipping it back and awaiting the burn in his throat but not allowing his lips to touch the tip. The sting of the alcohol running down his throat brings tears to his eyes, but he keeps a steady flow rushing in because it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. After a while, even the burn fades away, and he sets the large bottle back down, lying down on the ground and curling into himself.

“Bad day?” his father asks, voice devoid of emotion. It’s rough, probably from drinking, and Jimin did not deign to look at him. He lets a grunt out from his lips, cheeks pressed to the floor, and he’s starting to feel the alcohol work in his veins now, but it makes him feel so much heavier, so much worse. He hears deep, humorless chuckles from beside him, but it doesn’t bring a rush of anger. He just lies there, unmoving, like his body is tied down by the weight of his hopelessness. When he starts to lose feeling in his fingers, he reaches over to grab the bottle of soju again, drinking so much so quickly that he feels his stomach lurch. He finds that he likes it. He wants to feel physically everything he feels emotionally, and he swallows everything down, even at his body’s protests.

“Look at me. Look at us,” his dad says, elbows resting on his knees. He delivers another bout of emotionless laughter. “I was a doctor, and now we’re both rotting away.” He’s laughing hysterically now, drunk out of his mind, laughing until he’s crying, and Jimin can’t tell if he’s amused or upset. Jimin lets out a wet cough.

“It’s your fault, old man,” he says, and he realizes that he’s slurring badly. He’d never say this sober, but the alcohol has burned through all his filters and inhibitions, and he finds the words spilling out from his mouth, corroding his throat like they’re rocks instead of words. “It’s your fault, and yet you’re wasting away here with your gambling addiction and your shitty coping mechanisms,” he starts shaking, although he doesn’t know what for. There’s another bottle of soju, and he cracks that open as well, chugging it down until he can’t feel himself anymore. “And I’m exactly like you,” he laughs, spit and alcohol spilling slightly from his mouth.

Jimin pulls himself up into a hunched over seating position, and he stares at the shell of a man in front of him. His vision’s blurring, and the room’s spinning, and he’s coming to realize exactly what life is like. He looks at his father and realizes that it’s not him in there anymore. The father that used to pick them up and fly them around the room or give them medicine and blankets whenever they got sick isn’t there anymore. What’s in front of him is the shell his father left behind as his mind died away. He leans back after taking another copious swig. “I guess if you don’t get killed first, then your brain rots away slowly, or your body does,” he says, fumbling over his words and trying to get a grasp of himself.

His father doesn’t say a word, and Jimin faces him only to realize that he’s well and fully passed out by now. He’d rather die than become his father, a deadweight to his mother and brother. He stands up too quickly, nearly falling back down as the entire world spins, and for a moment, he can’t feel the ground under him. He stumbles out of the house, head spinning, and all he sees is a swirl of black and grey and the occasional fluorescent streak of light. He slides down the wall, resting on the slightly damp ground, and he wonders if it rained earlier. He waits for the world to stop going around in circles, and when he looks up again, he can make out the vague outlines of the houses and shops surrounding his.

It’s barely a five-minute walk to the bus station, and he tries to look as sober as he can, sitting on one of the holed seats. He sets his overheating head on the window, finding that the window isn’t much cooler at all. He nearly throws up as the bus bumps and lurches along the road, and when Jimin thinks he’s in the right place, he gets off, walking unsteadily towards the highest place he knows. He climbs up flight after flight of stairs until he reaches the open rooftop. The air’s cooler up there, and he inhales through his mouth, feeling the wind soothe his alcohol-burnt throat. He walks closer to the edge without any hesitations. The figures below are small, like model cars and model people in model streets surrounded by model homes. He feels a rush of bitterness as he gazes out at them. He doesn’t understand why they get to live happily and walk around without care while he’s stuck in his endless cycle of disappointment and despair. Why did life have to be so unfair?

He takes a couple of steps back as the movement below becomes too dizzying. “One last chance,” he says, whispering into the night air with no one around to hear. “One last chance to win.”

Jimin fishes his phone out from his pocket and dials the first contact. The contact name is ‘aaa jeon jungkookie~’, just to make sure he’s the first one that appears, and Jimin feels another rush of bitterness.

It only takes a couple of rings before Jungkook’s picking up his phone sounding pained. “Jimin?” he says. His voice sounds a little rough, like he’s been drinking as well, and Jimin can vaguely make out the sound of laughter and glasses clinking in the background. The sound of Jungkook’s voice is like a hit to the heart, and Jimin feels his resolve weaken. “Jimin?” Jungkook calls out again.

“Kookie,” Jimin says, drawing out the last syllable. He feels his shoulders slump down further, and he finds it difficult to hold himself up.

“Jimin, are you alright?” Jungkook asks. He sounds worried now, a little panicked.

“Kookie,” Jimin says again in a singsong voice. “Don’t you think it would be nice to go on a long vacation?”

There’s a beat of silence on the line, “Jimin—“

Jimin cuts him off before he can say anything. “A long vacation. Really long. As in, never come back again long,” he says, laughing breathlessly.

“Jimin, tell me where you are, I’ll come get you,” Jungkook says, and Jimin can hear him fumble with his phone. He imagines Jungkook, flushed and uncoordinated from drinking, and the vividness of it has him shutting his eyes and taking a shaky breath. He ignores Jungkook, not even really processing what he’s saying.

“Why’d you have to do it?” Jimin asks. “Why did you have to go and steal my one chance at a good life? You know how much it means to me, but you just can’t stand not being the star, huh? How much did it take to bribe coach? Was it worth ruining my life?” Jimin sends all his frustration and anger into his voice, and he feels all the pain rush back to him, clouding his mind and stopping him from speaking coherently.

“Jimin, I’m sorry, please,” Jungkook’s begging now, “Where are you? Let me come get you, let’s talk this out. Fuck, Jimin, please.”

Jimin’s anger fills him up the same way rain water floods, and his grip tightens on the phone until he thinks he might break it. “Why would you come get me?” he asks with a dangerous edge to his voice. “We’re not together anymore. You don’t care.” Something snaps inside him, and he raises his voice, something he’s never really done around Jungkook. “You don’t care! You always win, couldn’t you let me have this?”

“Jimin, please,” Jungkook says. Desperation hangs off of every word, and Jimin hates that he can envision Jungkook’s worried doe eyes and concerned frown even after all this. He feels the fight go out of him again, unable to sustain his anger.

“I’m on the roof,” he whispers.

“Why?” he asks before changing his question. “The roof where?”

“The tallest mall. Near where you are right now,” Jimin says. He can hear frantic movement on the other side of the line. “Race with me,” Jimin breathes out, looking over the streets and watching a group of teenagers exit a convenience store.

Jungkook’s voice comes through the line, and he sounds a little breathless, like he’s walking really quickly. “What?” he asks, sounding distracted and worried. Jimin closes his eyes and presses his left palm on one eye, trying to relieve his headache. “Why the roof, Jimin? What do you mean?”

Jimin tilts his head back, “Race me.” He doesn’t feel like explaining, but he can sense that something in Jungkook just clicks. He hears what sounds like wind in the receiver, and Jungkook’s voice comes in, breathless and panting. “Don’t do it! Wait for me,” he yells into the phone.

“Come on, Kookie. Run faster. You’re my little champion,” Jimin says, and he feels like screaming in frustration, but he can’t find the strength to. “Oh, Kookie, but this time you’re not gonna win.”

Jungkook’s words come out in a jumbled mess, but Jimin can hear him say, “Trust me okay, trust me.” It’s the push that sends him over the edge, and the sob that he’s had locked up in his lungs makes it way to the surface. It’s like a chain reaction, and it comes out one after the other as his tears start falling. It’s ridiculous to tell him to trust Jungkook, and it brings all his emotions together in one large wave. He feels it wash over him, filling up his lungs and drowning him. It spills from his eyes in tears, and he’s sobbing through the phone, unable to collect himself.

“Kookie, I’m finally gonna win. Aren’t you happy for me?” Jimin asks. His voice is cracking, and his tongue is dragging on the words, slurring and smudging them.

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter! I’ll let you win a million times over please don’t do this,” Jungkook says, and Jimin nearly caves again, but he can’t. He wants to win. He wants to have purpose. The conversation goes by in a hazy blur, and the next thing Jimin knows, footsteps are running up behind him. He doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Jungkook. He’s spent years listening to the very same footsteps, watching how they push off the ground and propel him to the finish line. He turns anyway, forcing a sad smile onto his face. “Jungkook, since you’re faster, let’s even it out a little bit, huh?”

Panic is evident on Jungkook’s face, and Jimin wants to break down crying. “I’ll run from here, and you’ll run from there. I’m sure I’ll win this time, just a little headstart,” he manages to say, and he sounds strangely calm. It’s the last thing he wants to do, the one thing he thinks is still worth doing. He remembers them training together and his promises to beat Jungkook someday, and it hurts. He wishes he could go back to the days when he could say that in confidence with nothing at stake, but he can’t anymore. It breaks his heart as he watches tears start to spill from Jungkook’s eyes.

“I don’t want you to win,” Jungkook says, and he sounds so desperate, so utterly broken that Jimin feels the sincerity down to his core. Jimin turns around before Jungkook can see the smile fall from his face. He wishes his last meeting with Jungkook could be a little happier. He wishes they could have parted under better circumstances, but in this world, Jimin doesn’t get to choose. He watches the night sky one last time, traces one star from another and imagines that it comes together to form a heart. He feels tears slip past his eyes again. He wants to get out now. He wants to get away from here. He looks up and sends a silent wish up to the sky. A wish that they could meet again somewhere, someday, and maybe get their happy ending this time. His tears are falling freely now, and he doesn’t think he can run towards his death with his eyes wide open. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s been living like coward all his life, it doesn’t matter if he dies like one.

“On the count of three now, Kookie,” Jimin says, and he’s thankful his voice sounds steady. Maybe in another life. For now, this is how they end, and Jimin accepts it. “One.”

The beating of his heart gets louder, drums slamming in his chest and shaking his entire form.

“Two.”

Jungkook’s sobs are the only thing that Jimin can hear now. It’s raw and painful, but at the same time, it’s oddly comforting. At least one person remembers. At least one person cares.

“Three.”

The word leaves Jimin’s lips like a gunshot. He takes off because this is the last time, and he can’t afford to lose. He runs faster than he thinks he’s ever ran before, and suddenly, there’s no more ground beneath him. For a moment, he feels weightless, and he wonders if he’ll fly or float gently to the ground, but then he feels himself falling. He thinks he hears screaming, but he doesn’t open his eyes. His head is spinning, and his stomach’s falling faster than the rest of his body. He’s falling, falling, falling, and it feels like an eternity. He’s waiting for the impact, the harsh crack of pain, but it never comes. The dizziness stops and so does the falling sensation. He can’t hear the screams or the sound of chatter and traffic. He opens his eyes slowly, and awareness comes to him in stages.

He feels warm sheets underneath his hands and a soft, firm surface under him. His eyes focus on a picture of him, framed and set on a thick table made of rich, dark wood. He blinks, wondering if it’s a dream, and he reaches up to his cheeks, surprised to find tears streaming down. He hears a male voice shouting from somewhere downstairs.

“Jimin, it’s time for dinner!” It’s his uncle, Jimin remembers. He’s Park Jimin, aspiring actor, not an athlete or a lover or suicide case on the streets of Busan. He feels himself shaking, and he grasps his knees. When he tries to stand up, his legs give out under him, and he empties his stomach on the floor. He lets himself sit for a while, processing, and he’s still shaking, still crying. It was real, he’s sure of it, and he’ll be damned if anyone says otherwise. The weight of despair, of hopelessness and anger and pain and sadness is still heavy inside him, and he stands, feeling like an entirely different person.

The mirror shows his pale skin and triple piercings and cracked lips, but when he looks in his eyes, he’s not sure who he sees. He splashes his face with water, trying to rid himself of the darkness of that world, but as he walks out the door and moves to go down the stairs, the realization that he’ll always have a part of the other world’s Park Jimin settles on him like a curse.

Chapter Text

“Roadtrip!” Taehyung yells, shimmying in front of a disgusted-looking Yoongi.

They’re in an old grey bus that Jungkook thinks must’ve been white at some point, and the smell of musty seats and haphazardly cleaned floors is causing his nose to itch. They’re taking their first steps into summer, but today is already unbearably hot, and in this cramped up space, Jin’s broad shoulders beside him isn’t doing anyone any favors.

“Sit down, Tae,” Hoseok says laughing, holding a portable electric fan in front of him. Jungkook wishes he had the sense to have brought one as well, but he wasn’t supposed to take this bus with busted up air conditioning systems in the first place. Namjoon’s asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder with his mouth wide open, and he mumbles something incoherently under his breath. Jungkook turns to look at Jin, sweating from every pore and feeling rather unattractive. “Why are we taking the staff bus again?”

Jin licks his fingers clean from the melted remnants of his Melona ice cream, and once again, Jungkook finds himself envious. “Because our private car broke down. I’d like to remind you that that’s because you keep on forgetting about maintenance,” Jin says. Jungkook squirms uncomfortably, and he makes a face as he peels his sweaty arm off of the bus interiors. He feels like he’s melting in the overheated bus, and Taehyung’s loud Italian opera music isn’t helping.

“Can you turn that off?” he finally snaps at Taehyung. It’s not nice, he knows, but he’s not feeling all that nice right now, and he wants to lash out, or at least be able to get away from all the heat. The manager gives him the single most scandalized expression Jungkook’s ever seen, and he unplugs his phone from the auxiliary cord and stomps down the bus, sliding in front of him beside Jimin.

Jungkook sighs in relief, fishing out a large red bluetooth speaker from inside his bag and setting it on Jin’s lap. It seems that the heat is taking its toll on everyone because Jin flashes him an irritated expression as well, although it’s a lot more toned down and concealed. He’s about to play Justin Bieber’s greatest hits when Jimin turns around to give him a displeased expression. Jungkook shoves his speaker back in his oversized bag, “Sorry.”

The ride is silent for the longest time, filled only with Namjoon’s occasional snoring. Various trees and houses roll past outside the window, and Jungkook watches them go past in a blur. Why did he have to be such an ass? Jungkook knows his bratty tendencies aren’t doing him any good, so he tries to get settled in his seat, maybe take a quick nap, and hopefully wake up as a better person.

Jungkook’s already half-asleep when Taehyung clears his throat loudly, jumping up to his feet. Namjoon stops snoring, head snapping up to hit Hoseok’s chin, and Hoseok, already dozing off, gives a moan of discontent, shoving Namjoon off his shoulder and turning to the other side. Jungkook watches all this with a confused, distracted mind, but he doesn’t say a word, unwilling to say anything that’ll make the situation worse.

“Jin hyung, I wanna sit next to you,” Taehyung says loudly, his eyes and grin unnervingly wide. Jungkook eyes his expression, unable to process the situation. His mind is dazed and heavy from the long ride and the tense atmosphere, and it takes a while for the request to sink in. The bus is jam-packed with filming equipment, and Jungkook and Jimin plus their managers were last minute additions. The area is already cramped as it is, and if Taehyung switches over to sit with Jin, there’s no way in hell that Yoongi would give up the one free seat beside him, and Jungkook would have to sit with Jimin. Jungkook groans, and his mind lets out a string of not-so-nice words. He makes a memo in his head and files it away: never cross Taehyung. Jin glances at Jungkook unsurely.

Jin begins to mutter out a soft rejection, but Taehyung’s grin only gets wider. “Hyung, come on,” he says, eyes large and knowing, “The two leads should have some bonding time.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up so fast that he feels something crack at the back of his neck. “No,” he says firmly, challenging Taehyung’s gaze with his own doe eyes. Taehyung hasn’t blinked in a full minute, and Jungkook’s close to snapping when a resigned voice pipes up. “I’ll move,” Jimin says.

Jimin’s black hair reflects the sunlight, bringing a holographic sheen to the silky strands as he lightly pushes Taehyung out of the way, and Jin can only stare as he slips beside Jungkook, determinedly looking the other way and keeping a fair distance between them. Jungkook thinks he might actually burn holes in Jimin’s head with the intensity of his gaze, but he can’t look away. It’s been a full month since they last talked in the diner after filming, and all progress in their relationship has halted since. Jungkook’s increasingly aware of his words, his actions, his personality even, when he’s around the other actor, and every time he sees Jimin, he feels an overwhelming amount of guilt bubble up within him. It’s irrational, he knows, it wasn’t even really him, but if in another world, Jungkook had done that, he supposes there’s a part inside of him now that’s capable of the same thing, and it floods him with incredible shame.

Time seems to pass by even slower, the landscape moving past as if in slow motion. Jungkook feels overheated and stressed. He’s not used to facing his problems or even acknowledging that he has any, but with Jimin right beside him, he feels the need to say something, to apologize or make amends for something he never actually did.

“Seaweed?” Jungkook offers, bringing out his beloved pack and offering it to Jimin. Jimin reaches a small, pale hand out and takes one. Jungkook watches him intently, feeling the moment too strongly. Everything feels like Jimin now: the heat, the rumble of the engine, the crunch of seaweed in his mouth.

“I think it’s gonna happen soon,” Jimin says, shifting uneasily in his seat.

Jungkook doesn’t move a muscle, hand inside the pack of seaweed and staring straight ahead. “Hm?” he says after a while. He knows what Jimin means of course, but he doesn’t say anything.

“The other world. I think if you’re gonna be entering it, it’ll happen when we get to Busan,” he clarifies, not looking at Jungkook either.

“Ah,” Jungkook says. His mind curses at him, telling him that he should say something substantial at least, but he’s too afraid of screwing it up and painting himself in a worse light. He searches for the right words to say, an apology, a joke, an inquiry? Eventually, his mind exhausts itself, and he asks what’s been bugging him for the longest time. He feels the bus shudder underneath him as he speaks, “Why didn’t you add what actually happened on the script?”

Jimin hesitates for a moment before he turns to look at him, eyes guarded. They’ve known each other for months now, but Jungkook finds that he still has to adjust every time he looks at Jimin. The sun shining through the windows sharpens Jimin’s form, outlining him almost, and it makes him look a lot realer. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, and he looks smaller than Jungkook remembers. “Because I’m still in love with you.”

Jungkook stills, and he feels unsteady. He doesn’t know how Jimin can say it so easily, especially after everything. “Oh,” he says. Park Jimin’s still in love with him, and Jungkook knows it’s not him him, but he feels the need to clarify. He hesitates, only for a moment, before speaking, “Which one?”

He sees the sides of Jimin’s lips tighten, and Jungkook wonders if he’s pushing it, if it isn’t a question he should ask, but it’s too late to take it back. Jimin gives him a sharp look, but Jungkook can’t decipher his emotions. It makes sense that Jimin’s so guarded, so careful around him, but it hurts all the same. A long moment passes, “Not you,” Jimin says. Jungkook doesn’t ask any more questions, and the ride is spent in silence.

————————

A knock sounds on Jungkook’s hotel room door, and Jungkook, nearly driven crazy by the silence, scrambles to open it. Broad shoulders take up his view, and he automatically knows it’s Jin. He looks freshly showered and completely natural, but there’s a softer edge to him, like in this moment, he’s not a manager, he’s not worrying over the next schedule or scandal. He looks relaxed, at ease. He looks like a friend.

“The rest of the guys are hanging out in Yoongi’s room. I was wondering if you wanted to come with,” Jin says, tousling his hair slightly with bent fingers.

“Yoongi’s there?” Jungkook says with a hint of apprehension. It’s no secret that the director never really took a liking to Jungkook, and although he has no problem with Yoongi, he doesn’t generally like to invade the private spaces of people who dislike him.

Jin tilts his head, “Well, it is his room after all.”

Jungkook lets out a breath of air. Yoongi hates him, but he thinks he’d rather deal with the grumpy man than stay in his silent hotel room for a second longer. He’d expected the hotels in Busan to be cozier than in Seoul, but the sheets are still cool and untouched and the fixtures and furniture are all detached and impersonal. He weighs his options for a second longer before he’s wrapping a loose cardigan around himself and following Jin out. The first stages of summer may be in full cycle, but it’s still rather cold at night.

Yoongi’s room is a mess with chips and drinks set up on a small table and five people lying around and making noise. He realizes that Taehyung’s Italian opera music is back, and he takes a deep breath to steel himself for the night. Jin looks happy, and Jungkook realizes that his manager must feel infinitely more at ease when he’s around the others. A silence befalls the room, and Jungkook can feel the awkwardness settle in the air, but Jin, seemingly oblivious, walks right in and sets himself delicately on the queen-sized bed.

Jungkook clears his throat softly, following suit. “So,” he says, “Who’s, uh, singing this song?” It’s his way of apology, his way of making amends to Taehyung for earlier. A few beautifully sung notes float in the air, and as the tenor allows his voice to sail impressively through the room, Taehyung grins in understanding. “Alfredo Kraus,” he says.

Jungkook lets his shoulders sag for just a moment, relief flooding his entire being. The atmosphere settles into something warmer, friendlier. Taehyung motions for Jungkook to join him, and he bounds over almost too eagerly, nodding and laughing at Taehyung’s stories. His gaze meets Jimin’s who’s sitting on a plush chair across from him. He finds something odd in the way Jimin holds himself, just a touch too loose. He’s leaning on the chair with his shoulders slumped over, feet brought up onto the couch, and there’s a certain slack at the side of his mouth and a soft glaze over his eyes. Jungkook can see it in his flushed cheeks alone, Jimin must’ve been drinking.

Hoseok lets out a set of perfectly timed high notes, or as Jungkook would prefer it to be called, screeches, as the music comes to an end. Namjoon looks up from his copy of The Scarlet Letter and sniffs in faux poshness. “Let’s play something other than opera music, please,” he says as he pushes his fake glasses up. Jungkook stifles his laughter at Namjoon’s desperation, evident in the way he actually breaks his facade of hipster-cool to complain about the music selection. Yoongi gets up from the bed where he’s been curled up since Jungkook came in and grabs a bottle of beer, handing it to Jungkook. “I’ll pick the next song,” he says.

This is met with a chorus of cheers that has Taehyung slumping down in defeat beside him. Jungkook pats him tentatively on the shoulder, taking a sip of his beer. He makes a face at the taste, still unused to it, but when it becomes apparent that Jin’s not going to scold him for drinking, he decides to make the most out of it and chugs the alcohol down despite the taste. He feels the warmth in his stomach, and he finds that it’s pleasant. When Yoongi’s decidedly good choice of music comes to a halt as the director curls back on the bed, reportedly too tired to choose anymore, Jimin’s stumbling over to Jungkook, giggling. “Jungkook, you pick next!” he says, handing Jungkook the phone that’s still connected to the bluetooth speakers.

Jungkook finds himself baffled at the sudden change in Jimin’s attitude, but he realizes two things: one, Jimin’s most likely drunk off his ass, and two, it seems like this is Jimin’s way of reaching out as well. It’s one of the few times Jimin speaks to him for stuff other than filming or parallel worlds, so he smiles as he reaches for the phone, searching up the playlist he shares with fans and blasting it full on. He’s vibrating excitedly in his seat, and the more drinks he allows into his system, the warmer and looser he feels. Jimin’s sitting on the carpeted floor in front of him, giggling with abandon, and he’s resting his forehead on Jungkook’s calf, and Jungkook can’t think, but he doesn’t really want to. It hits him all of a sudden that this is the most fun he’s had in a while, and having Jimin actually talk to him, interact with him, feels so much better than walking on the tightrope they’d been treading for months.

“Alright, alright, stop drinking!” Yoongi says, breaking through the sound of Tori Kelly singing in the background. “We got work tomorrow, so none of you get to get proper drunk,” he adds.

“Get to get,” Taehyung repeats from beside him, giggling with abandon. Yoongi gives him a judgmental look and sighs, “It’s a good thing we don’t actually need you.” This causes Taehyung to dissolve into hysterics, practically crying from laughter, but he obediently sets down his bottle of beer and sits back down on the bed.

Half a second later, Jungkook finds Hoseok passed out on the floor, the absolute lightweight, and Namjoon behind him drunkenly blinking at the book that Jungkook’s sure his eyes are too blurry to read. Jin’s surprisingly sober, having eaten enough to quell the effects of alcohol, and he’s grabbing the booze and setting it by the corner where no one can be bothered to get it.

Jungkook’s playlist must have ended because the song changes into one he doesn’t recognize, but it’s soft and slow, and it makes Jungkook want to close his eyes and sleep. Jimin’s still slumped over on his leg, and Jungkook nudges him. When he doesn’t move Jungkook resorts to poking his cheeks until Jimin swats at him, missing completely. He realizes Jimin’s not going to move any time soon, and he takes it as a sign that he should go back and rest.

“I should go back now, guys,” Jungkook announces, surprised that he doesn’t slur his words. “I gotta sober up for shooting tomorrow, or else everyone’s gonna see an ugly, hungover Jungkook on screen.” He moves to stand up, but Jimin clings tighter, and truthfully, Jungkook could easily pry him off, but Jimin’s eyes are closed and puffy, and his cheeks are tinged red from the alcohol. His lips are slightly glossy, and his skin is somehow still so pale, and he looks too much like an angel for Jungkook to move away.

“Don’t go,” Jimin says. He sounds sad now, a little tormented, and Jungkook feels Jimin’s hold on him tighten even more. He continues staring down at Jimin, and he feels something tighten in his heart as well.

“Come on, you should go rest too. You can’t look ugly tomorrow or else everyone’s gonna say I’m too handsome for you,” Jungkook says. He doesn’t know half of what’s coming out of his mouth by now, but if he’s sober enough to be logical, it’s all good.

“Don’t go, please,” Jimin says again, and it seems like he’s not listening at all, like he’s stuck in a world filled with drunken memories. Jungkook’s heart melts a little remembering the only other time he’s ever heard of Jimin getting drunk, and it floods him with recollections that he’d rather never face.

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the guilt, or if it’s the way Jimin absolutely refuses to let him go, but he finds himself gently bringing Jimin up by the arms and supporting his entire weight. He stumbles a little, the weight throwing him off and almost pushing him back on the bed, but he manages to keep them upright out of sheer will. “You’re coming with me then,” he says, lugging Jimin’s drunken form out of Yoongi’s room.

“Bye guys, have a great night!” he calls out, and he’s met with a variety of greetings ranging from Taehyung’s “Don’t kidnap my baby!” to Yoongi’s “Fuck off” and Jin’s “Oh, God, I can sense the next big scandal.”

The halls are empty and dim, and Jungkook thanks whoever’s looking out for him up there that he actually remembered to bring his room key this time. He starts becoming aware of his surroundings as he makes his way back to his room, and he can feel Jimin’s lips moving from where it’s buried into his chest, letting out soft mumbles. He steadies his hold on Jimin, staggering and feeling nauseated, but the new position brings Jimin’s head higher up to his shoulder. It takes a moment for him to make sense of what Jimin’s saying, but by the time he’s in front of his door and fumbling with the room key, Jimin’s voice is loud and clear enough to easily understand.

“Don’t go. I still love you, don’t go,” Jimin’s mumbling. His eyes are squeezed shut like he’s afraid of looking, and he sounds dazed. Jungkook tries to ignore how fast his heart’s beating. He knows it’s not for him, but he can’t help the brief stutter in his heart as Jimin continues to whine and mumble. The room is warm from when Jungkook left the heater on, and he’s glad the bed’s large enough to hold two people easily. He sets Jimin down on the bed, and he whines momentarily but quickly buries his reddened face in the sheets. Jungkook sighs loudly, shrugging off his cardigan and managing to take both his and Jimin’s shoes off before he stops resisting the pull of the warm sheets and settles into them as well.

Jimin’s features are blurred in front of him, black bleeding into white and pink smudging at the edges. He moves away a little to give Jimin some space, but Jimin’s reaching out blindly in alarm, latching onto Jungkook’s bicep and trying to keep him in place. “Stay,” he begs, “Just for now.”

Jungkook’s too tired to think, and he wants this too much to resist, so he lets himself move closer, facing the blur of Jimin’s familiar features, and he falls asleep watching the soft fluttering of Jimin’s eyelids.

————————

The woman remembers him, of course she does. Jungkook’s standing by the same entrance with the worn down walls and warm interiors. It’s much hotter than when he visited last fall, but the woman’s smile is just as welcoming as she approaches them. Her hair’s tied up in a neat bun, and it seems that she’s put on a bit of lipstick this time, but she’s definitely the same woman.

“I didn’t know you starred in this film, Jungkook!” she says, reaching over to take Jungkook’s hands into her own. Jimin turns to Jungkook in surprise, “You’ve been here?” It’s the first thing Jimin’s said to Jungkook since they both woke up first thing in the morning to each other’s puffy faces. Jimin looked mildly alarmed, but mostly, he looked hungover and a little bit dead. The sun was only beginning to shine and glow through the clear windows, but Jungkook got a clear view of Jimin’s cracked lips and the bags under his eyes and his messy bed hair. He’s not one to judge, he probably looked the same with the addition of sweat running down his entire form. The heating that had done him favors when he was cold and drunken last night served as torture when the sun came out with renewed vigor.

Jimin looks annoyingly good now with a light layer of foundation and a swipe of lip balm, dead eyes conveniently covered with another pair of shades Jungkook knows he’s never seen before. Jungkook’s too aware of Jimin standing beside him, smelling off-puttingly good, like cherry blossoms, and if not for the too-stiff back and the constant twitching of his cheek, Jungkook would have thought he wasn’t hungover at all.

“Ah, yeah,” Jungkook says with polite laughter, trying to move past the oddness of the reunion. Jimin shrugs after a while, deciding it’s not important and moves to the table Yoongi and Namjoon are already settled at, bowing to the woman along the way. Jungkook gives one last smile and moves with Jin to the same direction.

“We’re shooting two scenes here, both of which are very important, so I’m gonna need you all to get your heads together,” Yoongi says, not looking the slightest bit hungover. In fact, he looks better than usual, as if alcohol is the secret to his skin’s permanent dewiness. His bags are gone, and his hair’s actually styled, and he’s wearing something loose, white, and short-sleeved for once instead of his usual black sweater and aura of doom.

Namjoon nods from beside him, and Hoseok sidles over to Namjoon’s side, forcing Yoongi to scoot over and make space. Namjoon’s wearing large, yellow-tinted shades with black frames, and Jungkook can see how hungover he is from his eyes alone, but he decides against saying anything. Namjoon’s also wearing a furry, bright red bucket hat, and it’s making Jungkook’s slight hangover much worse than it actually is. Hoseok’s a lot less loud than usual, but his smile is pasted on his face, and he’s wearing a snapback backwards that exposes his forehead. His skin looks a little splotchy and flushed, but otherwise, he seems perfectly fine. Jin sits beside Jungkook looking as put-together as always, but Jungkook senses a certain brightness to his presence, like a teenager after getting laid.

“Wait, where’s Taehyung?” Yoongi says, cutting himself off from talking any further.

“Throwing up,” Jimin says neutrally. He doesn’t sound impressed at all, but Jungkook’s too distracted by the rough morning voice that comes out of Jimin’s swollen, glossed over lips to feel sorry for Taehyung. Jungkook rips his eyes away from Jimin as if he’s been burned and tunes back in to Yoongi.

“I think I’m gonna throw up as well,” Namjoon mumbles, dropping his head in his hands, and then groaning loudly as if the action made his nausea worse.

“I told you not to wear those shades,” Yoongi reprimands. “They already make you dizzy without the hangover.” Namjoon only groans in response.

Hoseok laughs like subdued sunshine, “I thought you didn’t need Taehyung, but now you’re looking for him.”

Yoongi doesn’t even react. “I talk better when I have someone stupid to insult,” he says blankly. Jin laughs at his statement, adjusting the collar of his black sweater. Jungkook narrows his eyes. Black sweater. He hadn’t noticed earlier in his dazed, Jimin-drunk stupor, but he’s never seen Jin wear black, ever. The sweater’s snug on his shoulders, showing off a fit frame, and as Jungkook’s eyes drift over to Yoongi, he sees the oversized white shirt under a new light. His eyes narrow further, but he decides to let it be for now.

“As I was saying, we’ll be filming Doyoon and Junho’s date here first. After that, we’ll eat lunch here because Namjoon says that he’ll only eat meat if it’s from here,” Yoongi pauses to roll his eyes, “Then we’ll do your scene, Jungkook, where you get a phone call from Junho and drama ensues.”

Jungkook nods and so does Jimin. He glances at Jimin and finds that he looks a little ashen, and he gets up from the table as soon as Yoongi finishes speaking, saying he needs a breath of fresh air. Taehyung chooses that moment to exit the restroom. He watches as Jimin walks away. “What did I miss?” he asks. Jungkook feels the urge to follow him, so he does, walking past Taehyung who looks pale from vomiting.

The blue sky appears almost fake above the peaceful town, and Jimin’s standing underneath, staring up at the expanse with his arms hanging at his sides. The mellowed orange of his shirt clashes with the blue of the sky, but Jungkook thinks he looks picturesque with his black hair sliding off his forehead. His shoes make crunching sounds on the ground underneath him, but Jimin doesn’t notice, or at least he doesn’t appear to. Jungkook walks until he’s right beside Jimin. “Hey,” he says.

Jimin removes his gaze from the sky, moving as if he doesn’t want to. “Yeah?” he says when he finally trains his eyes on Jungkook.

“I probably don’t understand,” Jungkook starts out hesitantly. He feels out of his element, like he’s walking on water with the possibility of sinking any time. “But it must be hard for you,” he continues, “to have to revisit all this. It must be absolute torture.”

Something shifts in Jimin’s eyes, a flash of understanding or of realization. “It is,” Jimin says. His lips barely move as he speaks, and he’s looking at Jungkook, but it’s apparent that his mind is miles away. “I need to though. I owe it to him, at least. The other Jimin. I owe it to him to get him a second chance.”

A dog runs past, and there are stylists and staff standing around by the entrance, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. In this moment, there’s only the two of them, and he couldn’t care less about the rest of the world. If Jimin owes his other self, then Jungkook owes Jimin. The other Jungkook isn’t here to fix things, so it’s up to Jungkook to pick up the slack, make Jimin happy.

“Have you ever actually toured Busan?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin gives him a curious look. “I don’t have to. Dream Jimin lived in Busan, and all of him is up here,” he says, tapping the side of his head.

Jungkook laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Well, I lived in Busan too, remember? Trust me when I say touring it is different.”

“What do you propose I do then?” Jimin asks, expression warming slightly. His normally cool, pale skin looks sun-warmed, and the orange of his shirt makes him look so vivid and real. Jungkook allows himself to relax and smile. He’ll do things right, he’s doing things right. “Come with me,” he says. He grabs Jimin’s wrist, and although it’s delicate in his hand, it seems to fit perfectly, and even if it didn’t, Jimin’s brief, fluting laughter behind him makes everything dissolve into whirling pastel.

The vendors are as nice as Jungkook remembers, and the bazaar is even better in the morning without all the bumbling tourists milling about. They pause in front of a hotteok vendor, and Jungkook puts both hands firmly on Jimin’s thin shoulders. “What you have in front of you is one of Busan’s delicacies. You have not lived until you’ve tried it,” Jungkook says proudly. He orders two and waits for them to be given, almost too hot to be eaten.

The hotteok is sweet and crisp, and biting into it gives a fresh burst of cinnamon and sugary nuts. It reminds him of the last time he was here, weaving in and out of stalls until he found that one cozy restaurant. He watches Jimin’s expression change from skepticism to surprise to delight, and the way his face brightens, and his entire demeanor lifts is like the sun shining through clouds.

He doesn’t spare a second after that, grinning widely and allowing himself to run around and feel free. He loops an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, “Come on.”

Jungkook leads him from stall to stall, ducking underneath large signs and dodging friendly vendors carrying large trays. One stall had unlit fairy lights looped around the yellowed sign, and another had little images pasted all over the cart. There’s a cat with trimmed fur lounging beside a bright pink stall with a large pink and white cover over the top. The sign advertises traditional milk tea, and Jimin gazes at it a second longer than he did to the other stalls.

“Want one?” Jungkook asks, stopping abruptly.

Jimin nods shyly, “I’m a little thirsty.” Jungkook realizes then that he is too after being under the bright sun and keeping up with the constant walking.

At some point, they slow down a little, strolling instead of jogging through the area. He’s sure they’ve been recognized at least thrice, but he’s glad no one actually tries to talk to them. The sun shines heavily on their shoulders, but the air is cooler than yesterday, and an occasional breeze will blow past them, ruffling their hair and pushing them towards each other. Jungkook unknowingly finds himself reaching for Jimin’s hand, and their palms are a little sweaty, but when Jungkook realizes what he’s doing, he thinks that he doesn’t mind. Jimin doesn’t say a word, in fact he’s strangely silent, but the smile on his face shows his enjoyment. Jungkook watches him as he tries a particularly spicy dish, and his ears turn red, trying and failing to hide the burning sensation. Jungkook laughs loudly, and Jimin shakes his head with a fond expression that Jungkook’s never been on the receiving end of. Jimin hasn’t stopped smiling since his first bite of hotteok, and it’s sweeter than the milk tea and the nutty, cinnamon syrup combined.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to pinpoint all the good spots he visited, and they’re back before they know it. When they arrive, Jungkook feels like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders, and he can see Jimin still basking in a slight afterglow of happiness. They stand there for a moment, smiling stupidly at each other and sipping from their milk tea. Jimin’s standing close, but not too close for Jungkook’s mind to short circuit. He smiles gently. “Thanks,” he says, “I needed that.”

Jungkook smiles back, “Does Busan seem a little better now?”

Jimin pauses, as if he’s seriously considering the question, and in the end, he shrugs. Jungkook notices he does it often, probably a habit, and the way his delicate shoulders move under the fabric of his shirt is alarmingly endearing to him. He’s not supposed to find it cute, but he does. “I guess a little,” Jimin says. The tension is inching back into Jimin’s form, but he still seems a lot more relaxed now.

When they finally walk back in, Hoseok’s pacing back and forth in distress. “There you are!” he exclaims when he sees them. Jungkook flushes a little in embarrassment, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Where have you been?” Yoongi asks. He’s still sitting where he was when they left, and he doesn’t sound mad at all.

“We walked around a little. I needed some air,” Jimin says a little too quickly. “Uh, where’s Tae?” he adds upon surveying the room. As soon as the words exit Jimin’s mouth, Jin and Taehyung both burst in, red-faced and a little sweaty.

“We looked everywhere for you!” Jin says. His tone is reprimanding, but his expression is more relieved than anything, and Jungkook mutters a quick apology although he’s not sorry at all. The room is all set up now, and the stylists rush to make them both look presentable. As Jungkook takes his place at the table with Jimin to start filming, he lets the smell of cooking meat wash over him. Utensils have been scattered around the table, and both glasses of water are marked with condensation. They did a great job of recreating the set, Jungkook thinks, judging by Jimin’s face.

Yoongi shouts out, “Action!”

Jungkook takes Jimin’s hand in his, putting them against each other then threading their fingers together. A familiar dizziness takes over him, and this time he welcomes it. “Your hands are small,” he says, and Jimin laughs. A blush spreads across his face, intensified by the heat from the grill.

“Your hands are just huge,” Jimin retorts, breaking Jungkook’s hold to pick up his chopsticks. The dizziness gets worse, and his gut starts twisting and wrenching. He takes a good look at Jimin’s blushing face before closing his eyes. It’s the same feeling, but this time, he’s ready.

Jungkook opens his eyes to the exact same scene. Jimin’s picking up a chunk of rice and placing it delicately into his mouth. He turns around, and the restaurant’s packed with middle-aged men, drinking beer and laughing loudly, teenagers in groups, giggling or playing around, and the occasional couple, like them, silently enjoying the warm environment. There are no cameras or stylists or managers, not like Jungkook expected there to be anyway. He turns back around once he’s sure of the world he’s in and faces a different Jimin.

“Hands don’t matter with track anyway,” Jimin says cheerfully across from him. There’s something about him that’s softer somehow, subdued and faded, the way an old home feels. It’s comfortable. The difference is subtle, but where the other Jimin is vivid, all clashing colors and juxtaposed extremes, this Jimin’s warmer. He’s sepia and smoked wood. They look the same, sure, but it just feels different. Jungkook blinks twice to get himself together before speaking.

“True,” he remembers to say. “And you’re one of the best athletes I know.”

Jimin laughs, and it tinkles, traveling through the air until it melds together with the soft clink of spoons and metal bowls. Jungkook thinks back to his own Jimin’s laughter, louder and more definite, although a lot harder to bring out, and he wonders when he started thinking of him as his Jimin. “You’re just saying that ‘cause we’re dating.”

Jungkook shakes his head, moving his face closer. The heat is almost too much now, but he doesn’t move away and continues watching Jimin, following his movements as he flips the pieces of meat. “Nah, you’re really good. Better than me even, I’d say,” he says.

Silence briefly crosses over them, but it’s comfortable. Jungkook finds that it’s always comfortable with this Jimin. Jungkook chooses this moment to go off-script, grabbing the phone in his pocket. “Hey, hold on for a moment,” he tells Jimin. “I’m just gonna head over to the restroom,” and as soon as Jimin nods, he’s rushing to enter a stall. He dials quickly, speaks quickly, exits quickly, and he makes sure to wash his hands, just to look convincing, before he goes back to their table. It still takes him longer than a normal trip to the restroom, but Jimin doesn’t look like he’s noticed. Jungkook sighs in relief; part one of his mission is done.

————————

“You went?” Jimin asks as soon as Jungkook opens his eyes. He shoves a chunk of rice in his mouth a lot less delicately. His movements are sharper, and his eyes are somehow more intense, more piercing. He’s back. Yoongi yells out, “Cut!”

Jungkook nods at him, and Yoongi walks over to them with a knowing look. “Ready to retake the scene, or are you two gonna talk stuff out?” he asks.

“We’ll talk stuff out,” Jimin says. He turns the grill off. “What happened?” he asks.

Jungkook waits for Yoongi to walk away. It’s still Jimin, but he’s striking now. His lines and edges are clearer, and Jungkook can clearly tell that it’s his Jimin, the Jimin he knows. “We had a date,” he says. He tries to get his head together, pushing thoughts away, clearing them, or bundling them into coherent sentences.

“And?” Jimin prompts. He looks a little impatient and a lot on edge. He’s gripping the table, and the tension in the air is back full-force. Jungkook’s only glad it’s not directed towards him.

“And I did something you’re not gonna like,” he says. Jungkook feels a little nervous, like he’s on the verge of either screwing everything up or making everything better, and he hates that everyone chooses this time to quiet down and exercise volume control.

“Which me?” Jimin asks, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, and there’s a hardness to his shoulders and neck that Jungkook’s grown unused to after seeing dream Jimin.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, gearing up to explain, “Not you.”

Chapter Text

Time is a funny thing. At times, its flow is viscous, crawling along, coating cracks and surfaces and invading so slowly that one doesn’t even notice if not for the small feeling of restlessness and anxiety nagging inside one’s mind. Other times, it rushes past like the turbulent tides, grabbing at unsuspecting bystanders and stealing away both smiles and seashells. Most of the time though, time is inconspicuous, whether slow or quick, it moves without you realizing it. Jungkook wishes time would stop.

The field, Jungkook thinks, is not a place he’d like to frequent. Now that he’s sitting in the open air with grass that’s starting to come alive underneath him, he can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something wrong. His legs are twitching slightly, fingers twisting and interlocking over and over again restlessly. It’s not their usual school’s field, but this one’s familiar, and it makes him dread the upcoming scene even more. The area is filled with more people than usual, extras getting last-minute briefings and staff setting up large lights. Jungkook’s bare arms are being layered over with tanned body foundation, and he’s pretty sure he’s sweating it all off.

“Jungkook,” Jimin says from beside him. Jungkook turns to look at him, casually eyeing the way the makeup transforms him. He waits for Jimin to continue. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he says then pauses, “I think you did the right thing.”

Jungkook feels a rush of relief. Part of him knows that he had no right to do what he did, but the other part tells him that it was the best thing he could do, despite it possibly breaking them apart. It puts his mind at ease knowing that at least when everything ends, and he suspects it’ll end soon, he’ll still have Jimin’s tentative friendship with him. “I think so too,” Jungkook says.

The sun is lazily climbing its way up to the sky’s peak, and Jungkook keeps his eyes trained on it, letting the brightness burn into his retinas. “Hey, how much time do you think I’ll have?” he asks Jimin.

“Until you completely forget?” Jimin asks. Jungkook doesn’t turn to look at him, but he nods. The feeling of the makeup sponge being repeatedly pressed onto his skin is good and makes him a little sleepy.

“I’d say a little over a week,” Jimin says. “Longer than me at least, since you haven’t visited as often.”

Jungkook doesn’t bother to nod this time. He feels more tired than usual, and he knows his head’s lolling back too much, making it hard for the stylist, but he thinks it would take all of his strength to pull his head back to center. “I’m nervous,” he admits. His voice sounds deeper, even to himself, and he knows sleep is slowly taking over him.

“What for?” Jimin says. Jungkook hears the makeup artists walk away after that, and Jungkook knows the stylists will come soon, ushering them into athletic attire.

“That I’ll screw up,” Jungkook says. He finally finds the strength to tear his eyes away from the sky, and he turns to look at Jimin. Colored spots block out his vision, floating around and bumping into each other and causing the back of his eyes to tingle. When his vision clears, he finds that Jimin looks nothing like the sun but is just as bright.

“I’m afraid that I’ll forget before I can see everything through, and nothing will change,” Jungkook breathes in the morning air, and it swirls around in his lungs, expanding in his chest and soothing his frayed nerves. “More than that, I’m afraid that I’m even worse, that what I’m doing now will cause everything to go to shit.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a while, and every second makes his lungs shrivel up in panic. He wasn’t nervous the last time he visited, he was ready even, but now everything’s starting to sink in. He’s taking charge of someone else’s life, twisting it and shifting it and hoping that it turns into something good, but does he even have the right? Since it entered his mind the night before, he hasn’t been able to sleep, and it plasters itself on every corner of his mind like wild, vivid graffiti sprayed over walls. He thinks he might stop breathing when Jimin finally moves. He shifts until he’s sitting in front of Jungkook, and he sets his hands on his shoulders. His fingers feel small on him, but they feel large too somehow, like their importance encompasses their size and manages to calm him.

“Look,” Jimin starts, “I don’t know everything you’re feeling or thinking; we’re not the same person, but I think I understand at least a little bit. It’s scary, it’s hard, and part of you feels like it’s not right to meddle, but we’re being thrown in there for a reason. In the time you’ve been there, you’ve already done more than I have.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, he just breathes, and he wonders if the air always tasted that sweet. Jimin continues. “I didn’t do anything because I was scared to screw up, and look where that got me. You’re doing the right thing, at least I think you are, and if it ends up turning to shit, just know that I won’t blame you,” Jimin pauses again as if he’s wondering if he should say anything else. He seems to decide that talking is better than nothing, so he moves to speak again. “And I’ll deny it if anyone ever asks, but I’ve come to realize that you’re better than him. You’re not the same or worse. You’re better.”

Jimin quickly moves back to where he was initially, out of Jungkook’s line of sight. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do, but he feels strangely comforted. He’s about to change the topic, try to lighten the atmosphere when Jin strolls towards them. Jin stands in front of them, effectively blocking the sun from view. “What have you guys been talking about?” he asks, and his tone is lightly teasing. The moment ends, and the world sharpens, like Jungkook is grounded again. Jimin’s words had flooded him with a strange, pulsing sensation, and he doesn’t understand it. Having Jin around brings the world back into focus, and he finds that he breathes easier now, but the air is not nearly as sweet.

Jungkook eyes the black leather jacket draped over Jin’s shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing a pink shirt that’s a lot more weather-appropriate. Jungkook eyes the jacket again. He knows that jacket, he’s seen it before. On Yoongi in particular. Jungkook gives Jin a mischievous, knowing grin, “About how Yoongi and you are totally boning.” He watches in amusement as Jin’s face goes through a vast array of emotions before finally settling on a mixture of shock and alarm. Jungkook feels a bit of giddiness well up within him upon discovering a couple more emotions Jin is capable of.

Choking sounds come from beside him, and Jungkook realizes it’s coming from Jimin. “They’re together?” Jimin asks incredulously. “But they’re so… different.”

Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean different? They’re the two most boring people I know. They’re perfect for each other,” he says.

“No, I mean Jin is happy! And fun!” Jimin insists. An offended noise comes from behind Jin, and Jungkook and Jimin both freeze at the sight of Yoongi walking towards them.

“Isn’t anyone gonna defend me? I’m far from boring,” Yoongi says. His tone is flat and unamused, but his eyes are sparkling, and Jungkook thinks that Jin might actually be good for Yoongi.

“I saw you watching a cat documentary the other day,” Jin is quick to say, face relaxing into something softer, something smitten. Jungkook smiles. It’s cute, he thinks.

Yoongi clears his throat, effectively clearing the air as well. “The stylists are asking for you two. Go,” he says. Jungkook walks off first, giving Yoongi a warm squeeze on the shoulder. “I know Taekwondo,” Jungkook says lowly into Yoongi’s ear. He has to bend down a little, and his still-drying body foundation smears on Yoongi’s thin, black sweater, leaving a slightly darker patch.

“And so?” Yoongi questions. His tone is challenging but warm.

“Treat him well, alright?” Jungkook says. He glances at Jin who’s watching the exchange with a confused expression.

“Watch me.”

Yoongi’s expression is determined but not hard, set but not closed off. Jungkook allows himself to smile again. He supposes Yoongi might actually be good for Jin as well. He sends a soft, well-meaning slap flying onto Yoongi’s back. Yoongi glares at him, and just like that, he’s back to mean director Yoongi. He sends a slap that’s twice as hard onto Jungkook’s own back. “Go,” he says again, pushing Jungkook lightly to the changing area. Jungkook laughs, the sound swallowed up by the open field. Jimin moves to walk beside him, “What was that?”

Jungkook smiles at him. “Brotherly love,” he says cheekily. Jimin rolls his eyes and moves faster, walking past Jungkook and pointedly rolling his eyes. Jungkook laughs again, and it’s loud enough to be heard this time. He feels light, like everything’s going to be alright. He runs after Jimin, and he feels as though his chest might burst at the sudden explosions of happiness in his it, multiple vibrant fireworks setting off inside his lungs and flowers blooming past his ribs.

“Hey, wait up!” he yells at Jimin who’s jogging away from him now. Jimin starts running, but he turns every couple of seconds to make sure Jungkook’s following him, and it feels right. It feels right seeing Jimin ahead of him, running and smiling with his hair bouncing about.

“Catch me then,” Jimin says. The words carry across the air, clear as a spring breeze and light as glitter. It reaches Jungkook as a challenge, and he runs. It feels right running after Jimin—no—running with him. The push of grass against his soled feet makes him feel complete. He’s running, and everything around him is a blur, but it brings memories back with so much clarity. This is how dream Jungkook sees the skies and feels the wind, and it’s different, but right, seeing and feeling it this way as well.

————————

A gunshot rings out and Jungkook twists his face into one of worry. A large camera is focused on the right side of his face, and there’s a makeup artist on standby, ready to reapply lip tint or foundation. In the movie, Jimin runs the 800 m, so Jungkook’s sitting by the sidelines, playing the part of concerned, supportive boyfriend and waiting for his own short distance race to start. Jungkook’s a middle distance runner and so is Jimin. It’s their forte, but they can’t run the same race.

They finish filming his reactions, so Jungkook sits by the side, watching Jimin get ready to film. Jungkook can feel his heart beating against his ribs and the sensation travels up his chest to his shoulders and reaching his skull. It stays there, beating again and again until he thinks that he won’t hear the gunshot. He watches Jimin adjust his stance, corded muscles bared in a sleeveless shirt, tensed like a bowstring before being released. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, perhaps because he can feel the moment approach slowly. He’s waiting for the dizziness, the swirling of his gut.

The gun fires, signaling the start, and Jimin delivers. His legs push off the ground powerfully, calves straining against skin and wishing to break free. The shot sets something off in Jungkook’s mind, and he knows that this is it. As the world starts to spin, and Jungkook can’t tell where Jimin’s body ends and the other runners’ start, he closes his eyes, letting the familiar disorientation take him. When he opens his eyes, the race is over, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s in a different world. He checks the race, 60 m, and he stares at the score before dropping his head in his hands. Five points. Jimin is in fourth place, and Jungkook expects it. Jimin’s endurance is good, his pacing is even better, but that’s nothing in a short distance race.

Jungkook doesn’t get a good look at Jimin’s face, but he just knows he has a fake smile on. The one where his lips are pulled up tight, but his eyes are trembling. Jungkook can’t afford to get distracted thinking about Jimin, so he returns his mind to the task at hand. He hears the boy beside him let out a breath, one that sounds a little frustrated. Jungkook turns to look at him, and he doesn’t remember this guy’s name yet, but he supposes that’s a good thing. It means he won’t forget himself that quickly.

“Coach is being really unfair,” the guy says all of a sudden. The words come out laced with a hint of anger that only dissipates when he turns to look at Jungkook. “No offense,” he adds.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He knows what the guy’s talking about, and he doesn’t feel like discussing it. He glances at his phone checking the time, and he curses under his breath. He has to go now.

“Hey, man, I’m just gonna go out for a second. I’ll be back real quick,” he tells the guy beside him.

“Your pre-competition routine still going strong, huh?” the guy says amusedly. Jungkook didn’t know he had a pre-competition routine, especially one that includes getting away from the meet, but if it makes his actions seem less suspicious, he’ll take it.

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Just gotta breathe a little.”

The guy nods in understanding, “Yeah, go ahead. I’m sure coach is expecting it anyway. Just don’t push it too much this time, man. It makes everyone worry.”

Sweat rolls down his back and beads on his brow. Walking away from the field is the right thing to do, but a part of him, the part that’s less him and more dream Jungkook aches to stay and run. He rolls his shoulders and pushes every doubt from his mind. He walks as calmly as he can, taking deep breaths, but it feels like there are two sides of him, whirling and clashing against each other. He walks until the streets become familiar, remembering the way he ran through them last time, and he sits across the street.

The house across him is old, worn down, and entirely depressing. The windows are dusty and smudged, making Jungkook wonder if any light gets in, and the paint is peeling off after years without maintenance. It’s Jimin’s house. Jungkook makes sure he’s half-hidden in the alleyway, and he notices a figure, Jimin’s brother, walking up to the door. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button-up that looks like someone had attempted to smooth out the wrinkles but had failed without an iron. Something registers in his mind, a small clank like a penny dropped into a porcelain bank, ringing in his ears. It’s the uniform of a waiter, and judging by the time Jihyun’s getting back home, he must’ve worked the graveyard shift last night. Watching him walk in, shoulders slumped and a little resigned brings Jungkook an intense amount of guilt. It’s the form of someone who had already lost a lot, and Jungkook hates himself a little because they’ll be losing something else soon. Jungkook only hopes the loss will bring them more.

The path leading away from Jimin’s home is long, but Jungkook can’t stay there a second longer, so he walks away. When be passes by a store with glass windows displaying television screens, he stops to look at the time. The 800 m is starting soon, and he has no intention of going back. His phone starts ringing after that: a contact under ‘mom’, some guy called Jihoon, and Jimin. He lets them all continue ringing, the vibrations traveling into his palms as his hands clutch his phone like a lifeline. He nearly caves when Jimin’s call comes in a couple more times, but after a while, his phone falls silent and becomes immobile.

Jungkook checks the time again. The 800 m is starting now, and he sends Jimin a short text. “Good luck” is all it says, but it’s everything Jungkook needs to say right now. He turns his phone off after that, walking until he reaches his house. The place is empty, and for a moment, Jungkook has no idea how he’s going to get in. He sits there blankly for a couple of minutes, not having counted on his house being empty. It takes a while for him to remember, but when he does, he takes the fake plant by the door and pushes soil aside until he spots something shining dully. He takes the key and lets himself inside, heading to his room after accidentally opening the restroom at first. He throws his running bib to the side as he flops onto the bed.

The ceiling above him is adorned with glow-in-the-dark stars, and to his left there’s a stack of books about track and field along with a couple of autobiographies of famous athletes. Jungkook looks to the other side and spots the same large poster on the restroom door. He throws the covers over his head, feeling odd. He thinks about Jimin’s home and how starkly different it was to his, and it hits him all over again how utterly selfish he must have been. He wishes he could’ve come here earlier, before all the bribery and competition, but this is the only chance he’ll get, and he’ll take it.

————————

Two days go by, and Jungkook’s glad he’s not losing himself yet. He’s spent the past few days skipping training, avoiding his teammates, and being ignored by Jimin while desperately holding on to every single memory he owns. The avoidance won’t last forever, Jungkook knows that, but the two brief days of reprieve have been enjoyed and are now coming to an end. It’s Friday, and he feels the steady drip of anxiety pool in his stomach. He’s not quite ready for today, but he knows what to do, and he can’t back out now, not when he’s already set everything in motion.

Class lets out, but Jungkook doesn’t feel like going home. The constantly tense atmosphere and the repetitive scoldings from his parents for running away from the meet are suffocating to say the least. He knows he’ll want to check on Jimin anyway, so he holes himself up in a convenience store near campus, slurping up ramen as he watches people go by through the glass panels. He goes through a list of names in his mind: Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin, his Jimin. He thinks of his real mother in a different world and the softness of his 1000 thread count sheets. He closes his eyes and lets his mind fill up with memories of filming and press conferences and ugly experiences with the paparazzi until he can differentiate this world from the other again.

Jungkook waits until the sun sets, midnight blue spreading across the sky with a last burst of radiance from the sun sinking down across the horizon. He glances at the time. 7:23 pm. He’s been there longer than he thought, and they’ll be at Jimin’s house soon, so he runs, jumping hurdles and pushing against the cement. It feels more right than running on the track. He runs until he reaches the house and hides up in the alleyway again. He would have been breathing heavily if not for Jungkook’s dedication to training, and for the first time, he finds himself thankful for one thing the other Jungkook actually did right.

Vibrant orange is making way for a delicate lavender, but nothing has happened yet. Jungkook feels his heart beat a little faster with every passing moment, and the sense of guilt upon him is almost crushing. When the small black car with scratches up its side rolls up the street, Jungkook’s breathing becomes uneven. Blood rushes in his ears, and he can feels his legs and arms tremble, and he can’t control it no matter how hard he tries. Two figures move out, a cheap suit and a button-up unbuttoned twice more than what is deemed appropriate by most of society illuminated by the slowly growing moonlight. Jungkook’s palms sweat, and his left eye twitches, but he knows he can’t be seen, so he plasters himself to the wall, hoping that if he stuck to it enough, he and the wall would become one.

The two men rap on the door violently, and Jungkook can feel it rattle inside him although he’s not nearly close enough. The door opens, offering a glimpse of soft black hair, and this time Jungkook’s sure it’s Jimin. The door closes, and a few moments pass. It must have only been a couple of seconds, but each one feels like an eternity, and it makes Jungkook’s entire being thud with panic. Are they not going to come? Had he horribly miscalculated everything? Just as he’s about to collapse from stress, he sees two more figures, shrouded in near-darkness this time, but lean and male from what Jungkook can see. They walk up to the door, badges glinting, and Jungkook sighs in relief, slumping to the ground. All the tension and panic that’s been building up inside him dissolves into the dirty pavement, taking him down with it. He’s not entirely sure if he can feel his legs, and the back of his neck is prickly with cold sweat, but everything’s working out the way he planned it to—well, mostly.

The distance between Jungkook and the house is too wide for him to be sure, but he thinks he hears a couple of screamed curses. His senses are heightened in the way he can see every crack in the pavement and in how the wind seems as loud as horns to him. The door bursts open, and Jungkook sees cheap suit and greasy button-up handcuffed and being dragged out. The door is thrown open even wider, and Jungkook sees Jimin walk out, hair messy and gestures wild. Jungkook can’t make his expression out clearly from the way he twists and jerks, moving his line of sight around the area. Jungkook can’t stand it, can’t stand the chaos and Jimin’s distress, so he does the only thing he seems to know how to do and runs away. He runs faster than ever before. His lungs feel like they’ve been filled with gasoline, and his throat feels like he’s been swallowing matches for hours. Tears are forming in his eyes from the harsh wind blowing into them, but for a moment, when he turns to look back, he thinks he sees Jimin looking right at him.

————————

The roof is cold at this time of night, even in the summer. Jungkook’s arms are spotted with goosebumps, and he wishes he’d worn something warmer or at least brought a jacket. He tries to recall a list of names again, Jin, Yoongi, Tae—Tae something, but Jungkook can’t remember what. He tries to bring up memories from the other world, attending auditions, jogging in the morning, and starring in a movie with someone, a Min? A Kim? He can’t remember her name either. He tries again and again, but he doesn’t remember why there’s an image of a tall man in a large animal-printed coat, bursting into a room holding an americano and a man-purse. Neither can he remember why he has memories of a hot bus with bad music. Everything’s blurring together, sucked away in the strong torrent of confusion and mixed worlds. Eventually, he gives up and sits with his legs stretched out on the cold ground.

The stars are oddly clear in the sky, and Jungkook tries to count each one as he waits. He’s gotten to over a hundred after losing count multiple times when he finally hears footsteps behind him. The steps are light like a dancer’s, but they have no steady rhythm. Jimin’s footsteps sound unsure and hesitant, but they’re there, getting louder and closer until Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right behind him.

“You wanted to talk,” Jimin says, and it’s not a question or a prompt for Jungkook to speak. It’s incredulous and confused and more than a little angry. Jungkook’s spine tenses, but he doesn’t move or turn around. He holds his breath until he feels lightheaded, and when he opens his mouth for air, he tells Jimin to sit down as well. There’s a moment of hesitance where Jungkook thinks Jimin might start screaming or maybe turn around and walk away, but instead, he sits beside Jungkook, an arms length away.

The view of the moon from where they’re sitting is clear and unobstructed. In Seoul, there’s no way a building only this tall would allow a clear view of the sky with all the skyscrapers and communication wires, but here in Busan, the houses are squat and humble, and Jungkook can see the moon loom in front of them, brighter and larger than he remembers.

The scene is deceptively tranquil, with the stars in the sky and the cool night air, but the tension over Jungkook and Jimin is heavy and thick. Jimin is simmering in anger, waves of emotion coming from him and washing over Jungkook. Jungkook is practically vibrating from the knowledge that everything’s about to end soon. From the moment he’s stepped into this world, he’d wanted to finish everything cleanly and leave, but now that he’s here, he doesn’t feel like rushing it. He knows that there’s no such thing as a clean solution when it comes to this, but he’s done all he can, so he’s sitting there, gathering up the courage to clear everything once and for all. He owes it to Jungkook. He owes it to Jimin. He owes it to both versions of the two.

“How’s your father?” Jungkook asks when it becomes apparent that Jimin won’t be speaking any time soon.

There’s a sharp intake of air from Jimin. It’s the trigger that releases his emotions, but unlike a bullet that pierces singularly, Jimin’s emotions spill the way a dam bursts open, messy and strong and a little destructive.

“My father?” he says, and his tone is so hurt, so acidic, that it burrows into Jungkook’s skin and lingers there, burning away at him. Jimin takes a shaky breath, one that’s breaking and bursting with barely controlled emotion. “You know what I don’t understand?” Jimin doesn’t wait for Jungkook to speak before continuing, “I know you took the 800 m from me, so why the hell did you run away? Did you know coach had connections? Did you know coach could let me run last minute?”

“Every single meet, you run away to ‘get some air’, but every single time, you come back before the race starts, so we let you be, but if this is you pitying me or feeling guilty and making amends, then what the fuck? I don’t need it from you, asshole,” Jimin says, and he’s seething now.

Jungkook closes his eyes as if that would soften the blow. He expected this, and he knows that’s not what Jimin’s really mad about, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for it. “Jimin,” he calls out softly. “Jimin, please listen to me.”

Jimin’s lips are tight, but his face is otherwise impassive, and he turns to look at Jungkook, scooting closer and twitching in anger. “I’m listening,” he grits out.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says because it’s truthfully all he can say, and Jimin’s face is stunned and confused for a moment before he’s laughing, face hidden in his knees which he pulled into his chest and shoulders shaking and jerking from the laughter. Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when, but the laughter starts to sound a little wet until he’s sobbing into himself, large, loud sobs filled with a sense of despair that comes from pent up frustration and anger and injustice.

Jungkook closes the distance between them, tentatively wrapping an arm around Jimin. Jimin doesn’t lean in like usual, but he doesn’t pull away either, and Jungkook holds him until his shaking subsides, feeling every racking sob against his own chest. It takes a while for Jimin to calm down, and when he finally lifts his head, his eyes are swollen and puffy, and his entire face is red and streaked with tears. His eyes are filled with so much pain, and Jungkook can see his blurred and warped face reflected in them. It’s a sight he knows he’ll never forget.

“Did you do it?” he asks, and his voice is croaky and hoarse. “Did you call the cops?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. There it is, the reason why Jimin’s so upset. He knew Jimin would figure it out, and even if he didn’t, Jungkook would tell him, but it’s nerve-racking. He wants to be honest, but he’s scared it’ll break everything apart before he leaves. He has no choice though. Coming clean is the only right option, so he looks into Jimin’s eyes, gauging his shifting emotions. “I did.”

Jimin’s breathing becomes uneven. “They told me it was an anonymous report from sometime last week. My mom thinks it was a neighbor, but it didn’t sound right. You’re the only one who knows what was happening, so I supposed it was you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says again. Everything’s supposed to be solved now, fixed up neatly and tied up with a bow, but feelings are never that clean or easy. He knows that letting Jimin run the race and calling the cops were necessary, but it’s not going to take Jimin’s pain away. That takes more than just a few days, and Jungkook just hopes Jimin can work it out with the other Jungkook, even when he’s gone.

“You know I won, right?” Jimin asks. Jungkook holds him tighter, afraid of what he’ll say next. “I finally won, and I’ve got college prospects, and I should he happy, but I just feel like shit. I feel like shit that I’m relieved they got arrested even though dad did too. We’re hoping for probation, but it’s not looking too good. I feel like I can’t feel good or feel bad because it’s wrong either way, and I feel like I hate you a little, but at the same time I’m grateful towards you even though I shouldn’t be because you had no right—“ Jimin cuts himself off as his volume steadily increases and a shudder violently rolls through his body. Jungkook feels it with how Jimin’s pressed up so tightly against him, and he doesn’t understand, but he feels the hurt all the same.

“I know,” Jungkook says, “and I knew I had no right, but I did it anyway, and I’m sorry for that, but I don’t regret it. I—I know I have no right to offer you advice either, but since I’ve already overstepped a lot, let me say one more thing.” He pauses now, taking a moment to string his words properly. “Feelings, emotions, they’re not right or wrong. They’re messy and confusing, and they happen all at once. They don’t oppose each other, they just are, and they don’t make you a bad person. You have to let yourself feel them then let them pass and move on, whether they make you feel happy or horrible.”

Jimin slumps into him even further, and it seems like the fight goes out of him, like he’s resigning himself to the fact that there’s nothing he can do now. All he can do is keep moving forward, living on despite everything. “When did you get so mature, Kookie?” Jimin says. It comes out soft and high, and his tone is the same one Jungkook heard on the field when they first met, except a little sadder.

Jungkook lets out tired laughter. “I don’t know either,” he says, and he truthfully doesn’t. Amidst the world switches and adaptation and constant rollercoaster of emotions, something’s shifted inside him. He feels subdued and tired but also a lot more mature, and he thinks that despite his mistakes and shortcomings, he’s managed to do something worthwhile.

Jimin breaks the silence first this time. “I—I’m sorry too,” he says. “For getting mad.”

Jungkook pulls away a little, trying to read Jimin’s expression. “You have every right to get mad,” he says.

“Maybe, but you gave me the chance to have a good future, no matter how much it hurt,” Jimin says. “I need time to get better. I need time to get myself together, and I need to do it on my own this time, but if you’ll still be there for me,” he pauses, voice becoming a little stronger, and there’s a new determination in his eyes. “I won’t waste it,” and it’s all the reassurance Jungkook needs. Whatever happens, Jimin will be fine; they’ll all be fine.

Jimin’s face isn’t red anymore, but his eyes are still puffy, and tear tracks are evident on his cheeks. The moon shines on him, outlining him in a glowing white, and it makes the wetness on his cheeks glisten. Jungkook thinks he still looks beautiful, despite the tears and the anger and the pain, Jimin is still so utterly breathtaking. Jungkook feels a familiar heaviness in his head, one that’s beginning to spin, building up to become a riptide. He straightens up, and so does Jimin. His gaze is piercing into Jimin’s own, and he makes sure that he’ll hear the next thing he says. It’s the one thing he’s sure this Jungkook would say as well, and he takes a deep breath. There’s only one thing left to say, and as his gut twists and his mind begins to twirl and sway, he says, “No matter what, I’ll be there for you.” Jimin’s eyes are suddenly wide as he’s looking at Jungkook’s own, and before Jungkook closes his eyes, he recognizes two things, the two that matter most to him when it comes to Jimin: hope and trust.

When Jungkook opens his eyes again, it’s an entirely different scene. He watches dazedly as Jimin runs, clothes clinging to the front of his body as the speed pushes it back against him. He doesn’t even register the tears beading at the bottom of his eyes until they grow too heavy and slip down his cheek. He’s done all he can in that world, and it’s up to them now, but there’s a part of him still wondering if he could have done more. He watches Jimin with an odd sense of emptiness until Jimin reaches the finish line, not first, of course because that’s not how the movie goes, but Jimin walks straight to Jungkook after that with a bright smile and sweat coating his arms, and the feeling of emptiness is replaced by something so warm and comfortable that it makes him smile through his tears. At this moment, Jungkook thinks that they’ve both triumphed somehow.

When Jimin spots the tears flowing freely from Jungkook’s eyes, his expression changes to adopt one of concern. “Did—did you…?” Jimin doesn’t have to finish his inquiry to make his question known. Seeing Jimin in front of him, whole and bright, illuminated by the sun instead of the moon, sends an odd feeling through Jungkook.

“It’s over,” he says, “and we did it.” He watches as a smile climbs its way up Jimin’s face again, and he’s rushing forward, Jungkook too, and they meet in the middle, Jimin holding Jungkook like he can show all his happiness and gratitude through that one extended gesture, and Jungkook holds Jimin like he’s afraid to lose him, afraid to see him suffer again.

“I feel like a huge ass,” Jungkook whispers into Jimin’s hair because the heat and the emotional duress is making his tongue loose. It’s humid, and Jimin’s sweaty, but he can’t bring himself to let go.

“But you did something great,” Jimin says. “You’re a hero, as cheesy as that sounds, and no hero ever feels like one.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jungkook says. The words come out of his mouth like confessions. He doesn’t want to hold anything back now, doesn’t want to make plans or have grand confrontations. He just needs to let everything out, messy and uninhibited.

“Me too,” Jimin whispers. Jungkook feels Jimin’s breath against his chest, and he holds him tighter. Something builds up inside of him, pressing against his skin and trying to break free. It spins and pushes and flows and itches inside of him, begging to be expressed. He knows what it is, and he knows how much it means, but it’s too important to be left unsaid, so he gathers up what’s left of his strength and says it.

“I think I might love you a little,” Jungkook confessed. “As me and you. Not Doyoon or Junho or our dream selves. I might love you a little, I love definitely you a little.”

Jimin laughs into his chest, laughs at his grammatical lapses or maybe he laughs at the confession, and it makes Jungkook’s insides twist in momentary fear. Jungkook’s hands grapple to keep him in place, clutching at his sweaty track attire, trying to keep Jimin, warm and bright Jimin, close to him for as long as he can. “I think I might love you a little too,” Jimin says. “As me and you too.”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they do, they burrow into his bones and carve themselves into his heart, and he thinks that everything is going to be alright for once.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Jimin asks after moments of Jungkook clutching on tighter.

“I will,” Jungkook says, “but let me hold you just a bit more, just a little longer.” He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want the moment to end, but as they stand there under the glaring sun, and he can feel Jimin’s sweat soaking into his shirt while his small nose digs into his chest, he thinks that every moment after this would be perfection as long as he’s with Jimin. He can feel his own sweat drying on his back, and his arms feel weak, but he grips Jimin tightly. He feels shaken and tired, but the knowledge that there’s hope for all of them, the feeling of the firm ground underneath him, and Jimin’s small but perfectly real form snug in his arms is all he needs for a happy ending.

Chapter Text

[seoulite]

Light flashes, momentarily rendering Jungkook blind. Two more flashes burn into Jungkook’s eyes, and he takes Jimin’s hand and runs. The night air is perfect as it brushes against his skin, and Jimin’s hand is comfortable in his own. He laughs loudly, digging his phone out and dialing a number he’s memorized by now as he runs.

“Jin!” Jungkook speaks loudly into the receiver, voice too bright and amused for both the time and the situation. Jimin is giggling behind him, clutching his hand tightly and allowing himself to be dragged along, although Jungkook’s sure he’s intentionally slowing his pace down.

“What is it?” Jin asks, but unlike the concerned tone he used to adopt around Jungkook, he sounds more at ease and a little amused too.

“Are you with Yoongi?” he asks, panting from exertion.

“Why?” Jin says, voice laced with suspicion.

“I might need you to pick us up,” Jungkook says without a hint of shame or remorse. He hears Jin start to speak, most likely to scold him, but Jungkook puts his phone away from his ear before he can hear anything and glances around at the buildings and stores surrounding him. He slows down a little until he comes to a full stop, pulling Jimin along with him to lean on a wall riddled with graffiti. Jimin wrinkles his nose up at Jungkook. “Hey, I’m wearing white,” he says, making a soft sound of disapproval.

Jungkook slings his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, reveling in the way he fits against his side. “Don’t worry,” he says. “If it gets stained, I’ll do your laundry.” He leans in close, nuzzling Jimin’s neck and allowing his nose to ghost over Jimin’s pulse point. He feels Jimin shudder underneath him. “And while we’re waiting,” Jungkook continues, tone low and sultry, “We can do some shirtless activities.”

There’s a moment of unfortunate silence where Jungkook tries to find a way to redeem himself, but then Jimin bursts out laughing, his entire body doubling over and shaking in laughter. “Shirtless activities,” he manages to say, barely coherent through the onslaught of giggles and squeaks. Jungkook feels his entire face go red, but he doesn’t mind being embarrassed all that much anymore, not if it makes Jimin this happy. He smiles brightly into the night sky, bringing his phone back up to his ear.

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jin’s loud voice comes through the line, static-filled and crackly, but very, very angry. Jungkook winces involuntarily.

“Uh, so can you pick us up?” Jungkook tries asking again. “We’re across the street from the old shop that sells hand-pulled noodles. We sorta got followed by the paparazzi.”

“Tell him it’s near that hair salon we go to together,” Jimin adds on, and his words are still laced with mirth.

No sooner than Jungkook relays this information, and Jin finally, begrudgingly, agrees to pick them up does another flash of light disrupt the still darkness of the night. Jimin groans loudly beside him. “Well, this is one thing about being a celebrity that I certainly didn’t miss,” he says, leaning into Jungkook.

“Hey, hyung, I gotta go. Just come pick us up, please, and thank you!” Jungkook says quickly into his phone, proud of himself for remembering his manners.

“Do we make a run for it?” Jungkook asks Jimin after dropping the call. The flashes are becoming more and more frequent, and Jimin shrugs. Jungkook feels Jimin’s shoulder bump into his, and he looks down at the shorter man, tilting his head in question.

“Either way, we’ll see headlines tomorrow morning,” Jimin says. He sounds unbothered now, like he doesn’t really mind anymore.

Jungkook grins at him, cheeky and playful. “Why don’t we give them something to write about then?” he asks, heart racing as he straightens up in anticipation. Jimin grins back at him, something that takes Jungkook by surprise. No matter how much he’s learned about Jimin, the boy still manages to surprise him, reacting in completely unpredictable ways. He’s not complaining though when the look Jimin’s giving him is one that hints at only good things to come. Jungkook moves closer.

“For real?” Jimin asks him, eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky.

“For real,” Jungkook says, returning his gaze with one just as eager, and in Jimin’s eyes, he spots the sky, promises of happiness and freedom.

Jimin moves closer until they’re flush against each other, and for a moment, Jungkook is taken back to the sea, waves crashing into his ankles and the sun shining down on his back. He doesn’t notice the faltering of the flashing lights, an indication that even the paparazzi wasn’t expecting this, because he’s too caught up in the feeling of Jimin’s chest against his. Jungkook watches as Jimin blinks slowly, and he’s back in the moment, feeling the cold wall against his right shoulder and bringing a hand up to weave it into Jimin’s hair. He feels Jimin do the same, shifting against him, small movements until he feels the warmth of Jimin’s tiny hand behind his head. The night air swirls around them pleasantly, and all thoughts of the beach are gone from his mind. He can feel the strong muscles of Jimin’s thighs against his, and he’s all too aware of his own muscles, keeping him tensed and upright.

Under the dim light of the street lamps and shrouded in the darkness of a starless Seoul night, Jungkook gazes at Jimin, breathless as if it’s their first meeting because seeing Jimin like this, in a stone-cold city with his glowing skin and sparkling eyes feels like entering a whole new world. It’s familiar, but there’s a certain bit of added confidence building up inside him because this Jimin, this Jimin that shines with a light of his own, that doesn’t need the sun or the moon to make his beauty radiant is smiling up at him with love in his eyes, love that’s only for him.

“We’re rather controversial, aren’t we?” Jimin whispers. His breath fans out against Jungkook’s cheek, and it lingers there, caressing the skin softly and settling as lightly as gauze.

“Between the gay films and the dating rumors?” Jungkook whispers back, fondness spilling from every word. “I guess we are,” he says, then he’s leaning down and in, eyes trained onto Jimin’s lips until he feels them, cold and a little chapped, but perfect against his own. He kisses Jimin gently at first, like the rippling of a river that lightly pushes the land surrounding it. He kisses him gently, softly, until Jimin’s pressing up against him, hand lightly fisting in his hair, and he pushes Jungkook back against the wall, his other hand finding its way onto his chest and staying there, feeling Jungkook’s heart hammering underneath. The kiss shifts into something rougher, spicy-sweet like cinnamon. Jimin’s lips move against Jungkook’s own like rain dropping from the sky and splattering on the pavement. He kisses Jungkook until their lips go numb, and Jungkook has to move back for air, the back of his head bumping softly against the graffitied wall.

Jimin’s weight is on Jungkook, and his chest heaves up and down, up and down, against him. Jungkook thinks he can feel Jimin’s heart pounding as well, and he reaches up, placing a hand over Jimin’s, planted on his chest. It takes a moment for them to catch their breaths, and Jimin giggles softly, burying his face into the thin fabric of Jungkook’s white shirt.

Jungkook feels Jimin sigh into his chest, and it’s sated, warm—sweet and relaxed as it passes through the cloth and burrows into his skin. “How’s that for a controversy?” he asks, raising his head up to look at Jungkook. Jungkook smiles at him, teeth glinting in the dark. “Let’s just say we’ll be having some shirtless activities as soon as Jin drops us off,” he says, trying not to giggle.

The crunching of tires on the road is both a welcome and unwelcome sound. Jungkook sighs in relief, knowing that they’re escape is here, but he wishes he could stay pressed up against Jimin for a little longer. The car stops in front of them, windows tinted, but Jungkook knows it’s Jin. He tugs Jimin gently to the car, making sure to move him towards the side away from the camera.

The car is pleasantly warm, and it smells a little like spiced green tea, one of Jin’s favorite scents. “I told you both to be more careful,” Jin says, twisting around to look at them. Jungkook leans forward, placing his body in between the two seats and pouts, “Sorry, hyung.”

Jimin is smiling fondly, so fondly that Jungkook doesn’t even feel a hint of guilt, and when Jungkook turns to glance at the driver, he nearly jumps in shock.

“Yoongi hyung?” he asks incredulously. Jimin leans up as well, trying to get a good look. He lets out an amused huff. Jungkook latches himself onto Yoongi’s arm. “Aw, I can’t believe you picked us up,” he says.

“If you don’t let go of me, I will let this car crash, and we will all die,” Yoongi growls, obviously irritated with Jungkook’s disturbance.

Jungkook and Jimin simultaneously lean back. It’s not a very long ride back home, and it feels even faster with Jimin having fallen asleep on his chest, cheek squished slightly and lips pouted. Their car slows to a halt outside Jungkook’s large apartment, and Jungkook can’t resist leaning down and giving Jimin a peck to wake him up. He half-carries Jimin into the house, bidding Jin and Yoongi a good night, and stumbling ungracefully to the bed. They collapse there, not bothering to move, laughing breathlessly on top of soft sheets and wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Who would’ve known,” Jimin breathes out, “Who would’ve known that looking for you was the best decision I’d make in my entire life.” His eyes are glazed over with sleep, but it only emphasizes the sparkle within them. He looks so happy and content that it warms Jungkook’s heart. He pulls Jimin in closer, a pleasant ache blossoming in his chest that only subsides when every inch of Jimin’s skin is touching his. He pressed a kiss into Jimin’s hair, heart nearly bursting with so much fondness. “I love you so much,” he whispers, although it’s no longer a revelation.

Jimin speaks into his chest, muffled and soft, “I love you too.” Jungkook doesn’t have to hear it twice. He can feel the words uttered, feeling Jimin’s lips move so intensely, and the sensation spreads across his skin, moving right into his heart. They lay there, holding each other, and the world fades away around them. Jungkook’s world is Jimin, Jimin in the air, in the sheets, in the hum of electricity flowing into the lightbulbs. Jimin’s world is Jungkook, Jungkook in the warmth surrounding him, in the heavy metal of his rings, in every unconscious inhale and exhale.

They stay there for the longest time, drifting off into each other. Sleep takes them soon enough, and when they both succumb, their sleep is sweet but dreamless.

[parallel]

“No matter what, I’ll be there for you.”

The words leave Jungkook’s mouth of their own accord, but he means them wholeheartedly. He feels a rush of energy leave him, and his body loses control for just a second, slumping over before he rushes to straighten his spine. The feeling of the cold ground underneath him is enough to bring him back into the moment. He comes face to face with eyes staring right into his own, bright, hopeful, familiar eyes. It all rushes back to him. The past few days have gone by in an odd haze with him running away from the race, calling the cops, and now, talking to Jimin. A surge of protectiveness floods him, and he feels as though a weight that’s been locked onto his chest for the longest time has finally been released. He breathes slowly, reminding himself that he’s somehow done the right thing, although he’s not sure how, and he can continue doing it.

He opens his mouth and continues speaking, “I’ve screwed up a lot, and I don’t deserve it, but if you’ll let me…” Jungkook trails off before picking his thoughts back up, “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The night breeze becomes turbulent, whipping at Jimin’s hair and clothes. His fringe is matted with tears and plastered to his forehead, and his clothes are whipping around his small frame, but he’s completely still. The moment is frozen, stuck in time, but then Jimin’s moving. He’s pushing off the floor and leaning into Jungkook, and they’re kissing. Jimin’s lips are pressed against his with a determined, confident assurance, and Jungkook melts into him. The coldness coating their lips melts away.

Jimin pulls away for a moment, lips still nearly touching his, and he breathes out. Jungkook feels the breath on his lips, but Jimin’s face is too close to his to make out an expression. “I,” Jimin says before planting his lips onto Jungkook’s again. This time Jungkook can taste the salt on his lips, and he kisses back harder.

Jimin pulls away, “still—“ then he’s going back for a kiss.

“Love—“ when he resurfaces, and he’s panting like he just has to say it before he takes Jungkook’s lips back into his own. He kisses passionately, with desperation, like time is running out and he wants to spend every last moment tasting him.

“You,” Jimin says. He moves away for a little longer to gaze into Jungkook’s eyes, reading him, learning him. He stares for a second longer, and Jungkook feels overwhelmed but at the same time, so perfectly content.

He’s not sure if he’s crying or if it’s Jimin’s dried tears he tastes on his lips, but he’s opening them, feeling the coldness soothe the burning inside. He leans in this time, so close, impossibly close. He breathes, or maybe he confesses, “I love you too.” Breathing, like confessing, feels the same: liberating, soothing, and absolutely necessary. He leans in, kissing Jimin again, but gentler this time. They kiss until they’re lying on their sides, sharing so much warmth that they forget to feel cold.

They kiss, and it’s a promise for the future. They kiss, and it’s a declaration of love. They kiss, and it’s a seal on forever, forever with each other, no matter where they are.

[love is]

Jungkook wakes up next to Jimin, stiff from falling asleep in jeans, but he laughs at Jimin’s bed hair and his endearingly puffy cheeks. They make breakfast together, well at least they try to, and in the end, no one minds if they get food delivered anyway.

Jungkook walks Jimin back home, holding his hand the entire time. They take detours and weave through streets, and they intentionally miss the bus, so they can explore this side of Busan a little more while waiting for the next one.

Jungkook takes Jimin to a fancy restaurant, suits expensive and unwrinkled with shoes shiny enough to catch your reflection in. When Jimin complains about the paparazzi, they make a run for it, jumping over puddles, and sometimes in them, until they end up in a playground with a damp, dirt ground, and their shoes are scuffed, dress shirts stained, but they laugh it off, and they kiss under the trees because nothing can be better than this.

Jungkook wonders if he’s holding Jimin, or if he’s holding Jimin together as the other boy cries.

“We’re going to college,” Jimin says, and he can’t believe it. Happiness is jumping inside his throat, unable to express itself unless it’s through sobs.

“Of course, Jimin,” Jungkook whispers softly. “I told you I’d be with you every step of the way.”

His tone is a little choked up, and maybe he struggles to wipe away tears of his own, but he’s too elated to care because they’ll be together, and it’s all he’s ever wanted.

The lights are bright, but Jimin’s brighter, and Jungkook watches, hopelessly in love, as Jimin gets his hair styled, parted then pushed away from his forehead. The cameras start rolling and he grins, happier than he’s ever been.

“When did your relationship start?” the polite, young host asks, hands folded on her lap, cue cards resting on them too.

Jungkook smiles. “I like to think we hit it off from the start,” he says cheekily. “I am charming after all.”

Jimin lets out a bright laugh, lightly slapping Jungkook’s arm. “Actually, I hated him at first,” he says giggling. “I can’t pinpoint the exact moment; I guess I just knew when it already was.”

Jungkook looks at him with stars in his eyes, and Jimin gazes back with his own galaxy, twinkling and swirling playfully. “Yeah,” Jungkook says, a touch softer than earlier. “I guess we just knew when it already was.”

“I win!” Jimin says, bent over with his hands on his knees.

“Not fair!” Jungkook whines, catching up to Jimin with his pace dramatically slowed by the multiple grocery bags hanging from his arms. “I demand a rematch,” he adds, pouting delicately.

Jimin grins. “Incoming!” he yells, and he’s running towards Jungkook, picking up speed along the way. Jungkook’s eyes widen, dropping all the bags, and he can just hear the eggs crack on the ground. He catches Jimin as he leaps onto him, and he can’t find it within himself to be mad when Jimin’s legs tighten around his waist, he’s giggling into his neck. Jimin squishes Jungkook’s face in between his soft hands, and he plants one helplessly smitten kiss onto Jungkook’s lips.

“I think we both won that one,” Jimin says, and it tickles Jungkook’s skin. He squirms away, laughing and steadying his hold on Jimin. He feels so helplessly fond, holding Jimin in his arms, and his heart’s fluttery with the prospect of holding Jimin forever. “I guess we did.”