Archive of Our Own ^beta

the broken sound of tears is the first thing he notices, the noise echoing through the narrow aisles of the supermarket. curiously, he glances behind the net of plastic balls, staring down aisle sixteen with big, brown eyes.

there’s a boy crying in the middle of the store.

jimin watches as the boy brings his pudgy hands to his face, little feet dragging his tiny body between the rows of toys. tear streaks stain his cheeks, the droplets falling infinitely, as he hiccups a chorus of “mommy! mommy!” between spastic sobs. he wails louder, and jimin frowns, stares at the the crumpled bills in his tiny hand then at the flowers in aisle fifteen.

he makes up his mind.

his steps are slow as he approaches the boy, chest puffed out as a flash of determination blinks in brown irises. the boy is still crying, hands rubbing furiously at his wet eyes. jimin’s gaze softens as he draws nearer, footsteps becoming lighter as the frown on his face morphs into a small smile. carefully, he squats next to the boy, arms hugging his knees. he only grins wider when the boy finally looks up.

“hello,” he greets, and the boy’s doe eyes suddenly blow into huge saucers. the cries die on his tiny lips, quivering as they stop. jimin’s eyes crinkle into crescents.

the boy begins to cry again.

“oh, no, please don’t cry!” jimin begs, drawing closer to the boy, but the boy only inches away, staring at him with big eyes and fat tears and sobs that are far too loud. jimin tries another smile. “did i scare you? i’m sorry. i promise i don’t bite!”

the boy’s lips quiver, and for a moment jimin thinks he might finally calm down, but instead, the toddler turns on his heels, waddling farther down the aisle, chubby little fists still glued to his face. the chorus of “mommy!” begins again until his voice finally cracks with exhaustion, tears finally spent. his body slumps to the ground, and he hiccups his way through another tearless cry.

jimin purses his lips and approaches the boy carefully again, sitting next to the younger with legs crossed over the white tiles of the grocery store. he leaves a small distance between them, adjusts his lips into what he hopes to be a really friendly smile. he tilts his head to the side. “are you lost?”

the question grabs the boy’s attention immediately, the kid snapping his head towards jimin. his eyes are still humongous, cheeks still stained with tear streaks, but this time the brown irises held some sort of comical bewilderment and awe; he looks as though he’s seen a magic trick, like jimin had somehow managed to read his mind.

he hesitates for a moment, and jimin waits, watching as the tiny boy’s fingers play with the cotton of his pororo shirt. his voice is solemn. “lost my mommy.”

“want hyungie to help you find her?” jimin asks, taking the risk to scoot closer.

the boy doesn’t run away—something jimin decides is a good thing—instead contemplating jimin’s question with a small frown. a moment passes as the boy simply fiddles with his shirt before he finally looks up, lips wobbling and tears threatening to fall any moment. he nods, and jimin coos, offering his hand before he helps both of them up onto their feet.

he clasps the younger’s hand in his, rubs the tears out of his eyes as he smiles a little wider. his hand trembles in his grip. “what’s your name?”

“jungkook,” is the small, shy whisper, and jimin grins, ruffling his hair softly. jungkook looks up at him tiredly.

“my name’s jimin,” he introduces. he pushes the hair out of jungkook’s eyes. “how old are you, jungkookie?”

jungkook pauses for a moment, thinking. he shyly brings up four fingers.

“ooh, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?” jimin asks. he finally deems jungkook calm enough and begins leading him away from the aisle and towards customer service. “well, hyungie’s six, so you’re going to have to call me hyung, okay?”

jungkook sniffles. “okay.”

jimin smiles, ruffling jungkook’s hair again. his hand is no longer trembling as much, eyes now freely wandering around the store as he takes in the multiple colours at once. the pace they walk at is slow, considering how small jungkook’s steps are, and halfway through jungkook decides he’s tired before lifting his arms and asking to be carried.

jimin only contemplates it for a second before gathering the four-year-old in his arms and lifting him up as high as he can.

by the time they arrive at customer service, jimin’s arms are aching but there’s a smile on jungkook’s face as he pointed at the colourful balloons on display, looking at jimin with bright eyes and an even brighter grin, bunny teeth poking from beneath pink lips. jimin smiles and pats his head, carefully putting him down when he reaches the end of the customer service line.

the lady behind the counter is all sunshine and daisies, leaning across the counter to give them a little wave. jimin steps on his tippie toes as he tells jungkook to say hello back and coos when the younger hides himself behind jimin’s figure as he shyly mumbles hello.

the lady laughs. “how cute. how can i help you boys?”

“jungkookie lost his mom,” jimin explains, and as though a button has been pushed, jungkook immediately bursts into tears at the sudden memory. panic sizzles through his skin as he turns and crouches down, quickly hugging jungkook while wiping away the tears as soon as they fall. “jungkookie, don’t cry! we’re finding your mom, right?”

“oh, poor sweetheart,” the lady empathises, walking from behind the counter to meet them. she crouches down to jungkook’s eye level, and jungkook only hides further behind jimin’s figure, fists clutching onto jimin’s shirt as he sobs on his back. “jungkook, was it? do you wanna find your mommy together, sweetheart?”

jungkook doesn’t respond, and jimin turns, ruffling his hair. “jungkookie, do you wanna help hyungie find your mommy?”

there’s a small nod, and the lady beams. “that’s great, honey! do you know your mommy’s name? do you think you can tell noona her name?”

the fists clutch tighter onto jimin’s shirt, but jungkook manages to whisper the name, eyes looking up at jimin as though to ask if he did the right thing. jimin reassures him with a proud smile and a loving pat, squeezing jungkook’s chubby cheeks for safe measure.

the lady is quick to head back behind the counter, calling for jungkook’s mother over the speaker. she doesn’t mention jungkook’s presence once—safer, jimin remembers his mother saying, as a stranger could easily come to the counter and claim to be jungkook’s mother, whisking him away before he could be found again. it takes jimin singing pororo’s theme song six times before a woman’s making her way past the registers towards customer service, a frantic sob escaping her lips as soon as her eyes land on jungkook’s tiny body.

jungkook snaps his head in the direction of the sound, tears brimming his eyes as he immediately releases his grip on jimin in favour of stumbling over to his mom. jimin watches fondly as jungkook’s mom collects the crying boy in her arms, lifting him into the air and planting kisses all over his face.

“kook-ah, you scared me!” she scolds, and jungkook stares at his mom, still crying, now wailing “mommy!” again. her face morphs into sympathy as she erases his tears, kissing his eyes in an attempt to draw a giggle out of him. it works, and she grins. “you have to promise to never do that again, though, kook-ah.”

jungkook sniffles. “okay, mommy.”

his mother kisses his forehead. she turns to jimin. “did you help jungkook find me? thank you so much. jungkookie, what do you say to the nice hyung?”

jungkook peels his face from his mother’s shoulder. his voice is small. “thank you, jimin-hyung.”

jimin smiles brightly, digging his hands into his pockets. he feels paper rub against his fingertips—the crumpled bills, he remembers—and suddenly, an idea pops into his mind.

he turns to look at jungkook’s mom with a big grin. “jungkookie’s mommy, is it okay if you wait for me?”

she blinks. “oh, of course, but—”

he doesn’t wait to hear the rest of her response, instead opting to dash between the registers again as he quickly heads back to aisle sixteen. in his mind he can only see the rows of toys that entranced jungkook enough to forget about his mother; when he arrives, he searches the shelves for the toy that enchanted jungkook most. he spots it squished between two boxes of toy trucks and grins happily, snatching it from the shelf and heading immediately for the register. relief courses through him when the man deems his wad of 20,000 won enough, and he gathers the gift in his hand, quickly stumbling back to customer service.

jungkook and his mother are still waiting there, a balloon now in jungkook’s tiny hand. his mother is the first to notice him, and jungkook immediately turns to face jimin, his doe eyes growing in size as his gaze shifts from jimin’s smiling face to the—

“bunny,” jungkook whispers, staring at the stuffed animal, and he looks at jimin almost enviously as he frowns at the doll.

jimin laughs. “this is for you, jungkookie! so you won’t ever be alone.”

the light in jungkook’s eyes is comical, and he looks back and forth between the older boy in front of him and the bunny in his arms. he turns to his mom almost questioningly, asking for permission, and his mother sets him on the floor. he waddles over to jimin, the balloon in his hand almost forgotten.

then he stops.

he stares at the bunny, big eyes staring at it in admiration, before turning to look up at jimin. there’s a childish confusion mingling with a desperate need, jimin laughs again, grabbing jungkook’s arms and pushing the stuffed animal into his arms. it’s half his size, fuzzy and grey with a blue ribbon wrapped around its neck. jungkook looks at it in awe before he turns to look at jimin, shy once more.

“thank you, jimin-hyung,” jungkook whispers, hugging the bunny tightly against his chest.

jimin smiles. “you’re welcome.”

jungkook grins before turning around to run back to his mother and brag about how “jimin-hyung gave me a bunny, mommy!” his mother just laughs, turning to jimin with a smile as she thanks him for his kindness. behind the counter, the lady grins.

“do you like it?” jimin asks, rocking on his feet. jungkook nods once, and jimin beams, only to have his face fall when he remembers how long he’s been gone. his smile turns sad. “hyungie has to go now. don’t get lost again, okay?”

he almost doesn’t want to go home when jungkook throws him the saddest pair of eyes he’s ever seen, and jimin’s been a victim of his younger brother’s puppy eyes for three years now. but he has to go; he knows his mother’s worried by now. he’s been at the store for too long.

jungkook’s mother nods. “do you need a ride, jimin-ah? we’d be more than happy to drop you off.”

jimin shakes his head. “thank you, jungkookie’s mom, but i’m okay. my house is just down the street.”

“are you sure?” she asks again, frowning worriedly. jungkook looks almost hopeful.

jimin smiles sadly; he doesn’t like jungkook’s sad face. “i’ll be okay. be a good boy from now on, okay, jungkookie?”

jungkook sniffles. “okay, hyungie.”

jimin chuckles and begins walking backwards out of the store. “bye-bye, jungkook’s mom! bye-bye, jungkookie! bye-bye nice lady who helped us find jungkookie’s mom!”

they all waved goodbye to him, jungkookie still hugging onto the bunny, and jimin turns and runs out the door, racing all the way home.

he arrives much later than he promised, but the anger in his mother’s eyes dissipates as soon as jimin bursts into tears. a mumbled apology slips past his lips, jungkook’s name and the bunny slipping in between the sobs, and jimin’s mother laughs, gathering her crying son into her arms. in the corner, jimin’s brother watches curiously.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t get you flowers for your birthday, mommy,” jimin apologises, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

his mother kisses his cheek. “you helping that boy jungkook is the best gift a mother could ever receive. thank you, jimin-ah.”

the memory of the crying boy slowly fades away from jimin’s mind; by the time he’s nine and in the third grade, he’s no longer wishing to see the tiny boy named jungkook and his wide eyes filled with wonder.

jimin’s sitting at the bottom of the stairs as he waits for his brother, socked feet kicking at the ground as he slowly counts to ten. with a sigh, he turns to look back upstairs, pouting when his brother’s chubby face is nowhere to be seen. he huffs. “ji-hyun-ie!”

“coming! i’m coming!” jihyun yells from upstairs, and finally, his puff of black hair appears from behind the wall. he’s holding onto the hulk figurine he got for christmas, his arms flapping as he bounces down the stairs.

jimin frowns, nose scrunched up into a cute button. “you’re going to get hurt jumping down the stairs like that. especially in socks.”

jihyun rolls his eyes. “i’ll be fine, hyung. stop worrying.”

jimin glares, grabbing his brother’s head in a headlock and ruffling his hair. jihyun cries for mercy in between laughs, and jimin grins, releasing him after he’s content with the mess he’s made. “brat.”

“but you love me,” jihyun teases, grabbing both their shoes from the shoe rack. he hands jimin his pair of boots and watches in awe as his brother expertly ties the laces; jihyun still wears velcro because the strings confuse him too much. “can we ride our bikes today?”

jimin finishes lacing his shoes and motions for jihyun to hand him hulk. the younger boy complies, handing his brother the toy, and sits on the floor to slip on his sneakers.

“there’s too much snow, jihyunie,” jimin reasons, staring out the window. it’s february, slowly turning into spring, but snowflakes still flutter from the skies. his mother says it’s warmer outside, but jimin doesn’t trust his brother’s biking skills out on semi-icy streets. “maybe when it gets warmer?”

jihyun pouts, but relents. “okay, hyung.”

“at least the playground’s still open,” jimin tries, pushing a beanie down jihyun’s hair. jihyun only whines softly, groaning little mumbles of “hyung!” while trying to fight off the elder’s bigger hands. jimin returns jihyun his toy, turning the knob of the front door and opening it widely.

he turns back towards the house. “we’re going now, mom!”

“we’re going now, mom!” jihyun echoes, and somewhere inside the house, their mother bids them goodbye at the top of her lungs. they both explode into a fit of giggles, jimin promising to take care of his brother while jihyun swears he’ll be good. they leave with approval from their mom, front door closing behind them, and jihyun immediately reaches out for jimin’s hand, swinging it as they walk down the street.

the playground is crowded despite the chilly air. kids have taken to the newly installed slides, abandoning the straight one in favour of the swirly slope. jihyun’s eyes immediately find his friends, hand releasing jimin’s as he jumps up and down, screaming their names at the top of his lungs.

jimin frowns, flicking jihyun playfully on the ear. “pipe down, hyunnie. they’re literally five metres in front of you.”

“what’s five metres?” jihyun asks, looking up at his brother.

jimin pauses. “really close, i think?”

“hyunnie!” a boy shouts from the top of the jungle gym. he’s waving his hands excitedly. “did you bring hulk?”

“yeah!” jihyun yells, and he rushes to join the boys at the top. jimin watches carefully as jihyun climbs up the ladder, roaring like the hulk, and only tears his eyes away when the younger makes it to the bridge.

he looks around the playground, taking note of the kids that litter the place; he recognises some as daily visitors, neighbourhood kids who live close enough their parents could watch them from the front door. others he’s vaguely familiar with, remembers seeing them at the ice cream shop on the way back from school, closer to summer.

his eyes skim past a group of kids he’s never seen before—perhaps visitors in the area—and land on a boy sitting on the swings alone, short feet kicking at the ground while wide eyes stare at the groups of children around him. beside him, a stuffed bunny sits silently on the swing.

jimin stares at the boy, feeling a sudden jolt of electricity burst through him. an air of familiarity surrounded the lonely swing boy, and the longer jimin stares, the more compelled he is to approach him. he watches as the boy shivers, breathing through his mouth. jimin tugs on the scarf around his neck.

his footsteps are slow, careful as he draws nearer to him. it doesn’t take long for the boy to notice him, eyes blown in surprise at the fact an older boy has decided to approach him. jimin just smiles, playing with the wool of his scarf.

“hello,” he greets. “can i swing with you?”

the boy is quiet for a moment before he slowly drags his eyes towards the stuffed bunny beside him. he hesitates but eventually nods, slow and unsure. his fingers curl around the bunny’s paw, pulling it to his lap, and he wraps his arms around him, burying his nose in the space between the bunny’s ears.

jimin sits carefully on the swing, slowly rocking his feet back and forth. he smiles. “why aren’t you playing with your friends?”

the boy doesn’t reply, taking more interest in his little stuffed pal. jimin watches as he plays with the blue ribbon yaround the bunny’s neck; he doesn’t know why he feels so familiar, why the sight of the bunny makes him feel warm and loved inside.

he hums instead, kicking his feet so he swings a little higher. he sees the boy look at him from the corner of his eye, short feet trying to kick at the ground that they cannot quite reach.

jimin giggles. “do you want hyungie to help you swing?”

he’s surprised when the boy nods immediately, and jimin jumps off, dusting his hands before moving behind the boy’s swing. “you gotta hold on tight, okay?”

“but my bunny,” the boy whispers, glancing down at his friend. jimin’s surprised by how soft the boy sounds, how small he seems, and he grins, offering both his hands.

“hyung will hold it for you,” he offers. the boy is reluctant. jimin smiles. “does your friend have a name?”

the boy blinks. “chimchim.”

“hm?”

“chimchim,” he says louder. he looks at chimchim. “my friend gave it to me.”

“you have a nice friend,” jimin notes.

the boy’s lips quiver. “i miss him.”

the tiny tears that escape the boy’s eyes take jimin by surprise, but the sobs that escape are soft, almost nonexistent. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to react, so instead he does what he always does when jihyun cries—he gathers the boy in his arms, patting his head softly with a smile.

“don’t cry,” jimin consoles, rocking them back and forth. “i’m sure you’ll meet your friend again.”

the boy sniffles. jimin feels him nod against his chest.

“do you have any other friends?” jimin asks, looking at the group of kids on the playground; jihyun’s screaming as he slides down the swirly slide, trying to escape captain america’s grasp.

the boy pauses. “chimchim.”

something in jimin breaks, and he swallows as he begins to pat the boy’s head again. “well, then, hyungie can be your friend. do you want to be friends?”

he feels the boy move away from him, and jimin pulls away to see wide eyes staring at him in disbelief, as though silently asking if he—jimin, an older boy—is really asking to be friends. a spark of happiness bursts inside of him when the boy nods, and jimin giggles, ruffling the younger’s hair in glee.

“what’s your name?” jimin asks, smoothing down the boy’s hair.

the boy smiles shyly at him. “jungkook.”

jimin blinks. a flash of memory—a lost boy, customer service, stuffed bunny with a blue ribbon. his mother, no birthday presents, pride in his mom’s eyes. jimin pulls away farther from the boy.

“jungkookie?” he asks cautiously, and jungkook blinks up at him, eyes wide at the nickname. jimin wonders if anyone else other than him has ever called him jungkookie; he hopes he's the only one.

jungkook doesn’t reply. he clutches onto chimchim a little tighter, as though he’s suddenly afraid.

jimin’s shock morphs into a huge grin, and his eyes become moon crescents on his face. “it’s me, jungkook-ah. jiminnie-hyung.”

jungkook blinks. he tests the name on his tongue. “jiminnie-hyung?”

“from the store, remember?” jimin cups his cheeks, squeezing them slightly. “you were lost and i helped you. don’t you remember, jungkookie?”

“jiminnie-hyung,” jungkook repeats, and then his eyes grow large, his bunny teeth suddenly appearing from beneath pink lips. he jumps dangerously in his seat, and jimin has to hold onto him to make sure he doesn’t fall. “jiminnie-hyung! jiminnie-hyung!”

jimin laughs. “that’s me, jungkookie. hyungie’s here.”

“hyungie’s here,” jungkook repeats, grinning in awe.

“hyung!”

jimin turns at jihyun’s voice, startled at the panic in his brother’s tone. he sees jihyun crouching by one of his friends—he’s on the ground, on the soft padding of the playground floor, metres below the wooden bridge. fear grips jimin’s bones.

“jihoon-hyungie fell!” jihyun reports, and jimin notices the tears in his brother’s eyes. he begins to pull away from jungkook, but a sudden whine and a pudgy hand pulls jimin back; jungkook’s staring at him with fear, lips wobbling and eyes threatening to shed lost tears.

“hyungie, don’t leave,” jungkook pleads softly, tugging jimin's hand back.

behind him, jihyun scrambles down to the ground.

jimin looks back at the group of kids surrounding jihoon; jihyun’s older friend is now crying, clutching his arm in pain.

“i’m sorry, jungkook-ah—hyung will be right back—”

“don’t leave me,” jungkook sobs, and jimin bites his lip. he turns to jihyun, who’s staring back in panic.

“okay,” jimin agrees, grabbing jungkook’s arm. “how about you come with me, jungkookie? we can check on jihoon together, okay?”

“you won’t leave me?” jungkook asks.

jimin squeezes his hand, helps jungkook off the swing. “no. hyung will stay with you. promise.”

“okay,” the smaller boy agrees, and the two finally waddle over to jihoon, who’s now clutching his arm. wet tears stain the rubber floor.

“jimin-hyung!” jihoon cries, and jimin coos, releasing jungkook’s hand in favour of inspecting jihoon’s arm. jungkook toddles closely behind, too afraid to leave jimin’s side.

“jihyun, go find jihoon’s mom,” jimin orders, and he watches as jihyun runs down the street with a friend in tow. in moments like these, jimin’s glad jihoon doesn’t live far from the playground.

jungkook tugs on jimin’s sleeve. “will he be alright?”

jimin smiles. “why don’t you ask him, jungkookie? ask jihoon-hyung if he’s okay.”

jungkook frowns at jimin, but turns to look at jihoon who’s now whimpering more than crying. “jihoon-hyungie, are you okay?”

“i want my mom,” jihoon mumbles, and jimin’s quick to reassure him that his mom is coming soon, that he’ll be okay, he’s a big boy.

it only takes a little while before jihoon’s mom comes, worried and crying jihoon’s name on her tongue; it takes another minute to gather jihoon in her arms and carefully place him in her car. she quickly thanks jimin for watching over him. jimin shakes his head and says he didn’t do much.

“jihyunie’s the hero,” jimin argues, ruffling his brother’s hair.

jihyun beams with pride.

“thank you, jihyunie,” jihoon’s mother says as she finally straps jihoon into place. “come over when jihoon’s better, okay?”

“okay, jihoon-hyungie’s mom,” jihyun agrees, and then the car is speeding off, most likely to the hospital, jimin thinks.

“we should go home,” jimin decides, looking at jihyun, who nods in agreement. the kids at the playground have similar ideas, slowly dispersing onto the streets, scared that they too might break an arm.

there’s a tug on jimin’s sleeve, and jimin looks down to find jungkook staring at him with sad eyes.

“is hyungie gonna go again?”

jihyun watches his brother carefully, looking at the boy with narrowed eyes; jimin smiles and ruffles jungkook’s hair.

“do you wanna walk home with hyung, jungkook-ah?”

jungkook doesn’t live far from where jimin lives; their houses are practically in the same direction, two stoplights apart. jungkook’s mom greets jungkook at the door, happy to see he’s made friends; her smile beams brighter when jimin introduces himself as the boy from the grocery store.

his mother takes jungkook from jimin’s side, and jungkook whines, reluctant to leave his friend. he clutches chimchim to his chest, whimpering softly.

“kook-ah,” his mother scolds, pecking his cheek. “jimin-hyung has to go home too, you know.”

“yeah,” jihyun mumbles, and jimin notices in amusement at how his brother is glaring at jungkook, tongue sticking out childishly.

jimin playfully flicks his ear. “jihyun, play nice.”

“i am nice.”

jungkook’s mom laughs. “do you go to the playground often, jimin-ah?”

jimin nods. “jihyunie and i like to play there. does jungkookie want to come with us next time?”

beside him, jihyun mumbles a soft no. jimin pinches his brother’s hip.

“can i?” jungkook asks timidly, and jimin grins, nodding excitedly.

“of course! and chimchim can come, too.”

jungkook smiles. “okay.”

“okay,” jimin repeats, and he brings his hand up for a high five. jungkook gladly returns it.

his mother smiles. “wait here, jimin-ah. i’ll give you our house number, okay? that way, your mom can call us and you can play together whenever.”

jimin nods, and soon they find themselves walking back home, the small slip of paper shoved deep in his pocket.

jihyun pouts, kicking at the ground. “i don’t like him.”

“don’t be like that,” jimin scolds, playing with his brother’s beanie. “jungkookie’s really nice.”

“but he’ll take you away from me,” jihyun whines. “you’re my hyung, not his!”

jimin laughs and grabs his brother into a headlock, snatching his beanie away and ruffling his hair. jihyun squeals, kicking in an attempt to get jimin off, but the elder is stronger and more determined, giggling until his brother finally surrenders.

he presses a kiss onto jihyun’s cheek, and jihyun scrunches his nose in disgust. “i’ll always be your hyung, hyunnie. but please be nice to jungkook, okay?”

“fine,” jihyun relents. he opens their front door and pauses. jimin watches as jihyun turns with hesitant eyes. “i guess his bunny’s kind of cool.”

jimin grins. “i hope so. i got it for him.”

he doesn’t wait for jihyun’s reply; he simply rushes inside and kicks off his boots, running upstairs before jihyun could whine. he hears his brother’s protests from the top of the stairs.

“not fair! i want one too!”

jimin laughs, flopping onto his bed, and makes a mental note to buy his brother a stuffed puppy for his birthday.

jihyun finally warms up to jungkook once jimin finally gifts jihyun his promised stuffed puppy; he names it ddosun, and chimchim becomes his partner-in-crime.

if there’s one thing jungkook has learned growing up, it’s that good friends are hard to come by.

when jungkook was four, his only friend was a hyung he met at a grocery store. the friendship lasted long enough for jungkook to blink once before the elder soon left with a small goodbye and a gift, never to show up again in jungkook’s life. he cried everyday for two weeks until his mother tried setting him up on playdates with her college best friend’s daughter; he cried harder when the other four-year-old tried to take chimchim away, and that was the end of another friendship.

the year after, he made one friend—jungkook doesn’t remember his name now, but he’s glad. the boy had been mean, calling jungkook names whenever they’d visit the playground, but his mother had been so happy at the prospect of jungkook being social, and so the boy never mentioned the slurs his friend threw at him. one day, his friend disappeared, and jungkook’s mother worried about his separation anxiety. jungkook pretended to be sad for a week. in all honesty, he had never been so happy to have a person leave his life.

he stayed friendless when he turned six. his mother tried to coax him out of his shell by enrolling him into an after-school art program for kindergarteners, but jungkook merely clutched chimchim to his chest, refusing any advances from the other six-year-olds in the room. eventually, she gave up, allowed him to continue art classes for the sake of art and stopped setting up playdates altogether.

the real change, though, occurred when he was seven. his father had been laid off six months prior to jungkook’s enrolment to the first grade, and the family was panicking; how can they provide for their son if they remain unemployed much longer? jungkook remembers hearing the hushed whispers of his parents in the dining room when they thought he was asleep, how the almost-fights turned into his mother sobbing by the stove, his father hugging her and promising they’d work something out.

a miracle came shortly after, and jungkook’s dad landed a job halfway across busan. his mother tried breaking the news softly to the young boy, but the news didn’t actually phase him. there was nothing he truly needed from his current home aside from his parents and chimchim. moving wouldn’t do much except introduce a new environment.

what he didn’t know was that moving would bring him back to jimin, the first friend he ever made, the friend he used to wish he still had, and the only friend he thought about whenever his mother tried to force him into social situations. and it’s strange, now that he thinks about it, how jimin hasn’t changed from that time; despite jungkook not recognising him at first, jimin still has the same eye smile and bright gaze, chubby cheeks promising him everything and a great time.

jungkook clicks his tongue, staring at the drawing in front of him. the millionth groan escapes his throat, forcing jimin to look up from the math problems he’s doing at his desk.

“what’s wrong?” jimin asks, pushing his wheelie chair across the wooden floor towards the bed jungkook’s lying down on, legs sprawled across the duvet. jungkook feels jimin lean over his figure to look at the sketchbook in front of him, staring at it curiously.

jungkook points at the sketch of chimchim—or at least, an attempt of a sketch of chimchim. he pouts. “it’s not coming out right.”

jimin hums, turning around in his swivel chair to look at the bunny that’s sitting across the room on jimin’s dusty drawer. jungkook doesn’t carry the stuffed animal around as often anymore now that he’s twelve; fifth graders, after all, are mean bullies. he’s seen the way they targeted the new girl with her giant moomin doll.

“it looks the same to me,” jimin comments absentmindedly, and jungkook frowns, lifting the drawing to compare it to the reference side to side.

jungkook snorts. “you’re just saying that to be nice.”

“am not,” jimin protests, flicking jungkook on the forehead. he rolls over to his desk and grabs the math workbook he’s been working on only to stand up and walk back to the bed. he nudges jungkook over with his knee. “scoot over.”

“ugh,” jungkook grumbles but complies, rolling on his back and then onto his stomach again to leave a bit of room for jimin; it’s hard to fit two growing boys on a twin bed, but they’ve managed since they were seven and nine respectively. “you could’ve at least brought the chips with you.”

“no eating on the bed,” jimin reminds him. his gaze is now fixed on the questions he has to do for school, and jungkook peeks over his hyung’s shoulder, trying to read the weird numbers. since when did math involve letters?

“middle school looks hard,” jungkook mumbles, flopping onto his back—which almost causes him to fall off the bed if it weren’t for jimin’s fast reflexes. he mumbles a thanks, staring down at the backpack he’s discarded on the floor; today, he went straight to jimin’s after taekwondo practice, which was right after school. he’s still sticky with sweat from practice, but luckily, jimin isn’t picky about a person’s physical state before climbing onto his bed. jungkook, on the other hand, would kill anyone who decides to even sit on his bed wearing clothes they wore out.

“it’s not that bad,” jimin argues, turning to look at jungkook with a lopsided smile. “see these? if they have the same letter attached, they can be added or subtracted just fine.”

“sounds complicated,” jungkook dismisses, and jimin flicks his forehead in annoyance. jungkook just whines. “hey, math’s already hard enough with shapes and stuff. i don’t even get why we need to figure out the area of a triangle. it’s not like we need it.”

jimin hums, looking down at his homework, before clicking his tongue and erasing whatever he had previously written down. “you need to know how to calculate areas if you wanna—i don’t know—build houses and stuff.”

“i don’t wanna build houses,” jungkook mutters, and jimin rolls his eyes, finally scratching down an answer. he looks satisfied with the result, nodding once before moving onto the next question. jungkook whines again. “how much longer do you have to study?”

“go do your homework,” jimin instructs, working on another problem. jungkook glares at the workbook. he hates math with a passion now.

“don’t wanna.”

“jungkook.”

“hyung. play with me.”

“oh my gosh.” jimin groans, rolling over so that he’s flopped across jungkook’s back. “what are you going to do when i start attending cram school next week?”

jungkook tries to shove jimin off, but the older won’t budge. “hyung.”

“hyungie’s tired, jungkook-ah,” jimin mumbles, snuggling against the younger’s back. “let me sleep.”

“sleep on your bed,” jungkook protests, squirming again. “you’re heavy.”

“hey, i’m not that heavy.”

“say that to my aching back,” he mutters back. he feels a flick to the back of his neck. “ow! why would you do that?”

jimin laughs, finally rolling off and returning to his workbook. he twirls his pencil in his hand, left hand tangled in jungkook’s hair. jungkook sighs, letting his eyes close as jimin’s fingers weave in and out; it’s calming, and it reminds him of all the times his mom would put him to sleep whenever he woke up with nightmares.

they stay silent for a while, the scratches of jimin’s pencil the only sound echoing in jimin’s small bedroom. jungkook peeks an eye open and stares at the wall above the headboard of the bed, staring at the old colouring pages he used to give jimin as presents. they’re kind of ugly in his opinion, but he remembers how proud jimin looks every time he showed him one and decides he doesn’t regret giving the elder the pictures at all.

“hey, hyung?” he asks, finally breaking the still air.

jimin hums. “hm?”

“do you have to go to cram school?”

the fingers pause, and he feels jimin move (probably to prop himself up on his elbows). jungkook lets his eyes close again as he waits for jimin’s answer. despite knowing the coming response, he finds himself clinging onto hope.

“jungkookie, look at me,” jimin pleads. when jungkook doesn’t comply, jimin sighs, poking jungkook’s side until he relents. what jungkook sees is jimin’s small smile, kind eyes boring into his soul as though he can read every crevice of jungkook’s mind. it reminds him of all those years ago in the grocery store when jimin suddenly announced he knew jungkook was lost. “you don’t have to be afraid, you know. we can still hang out.”

“but it’s not the same,” jungkook mutters, looking away. he stares at the drawings again, finding particular interest in the one of the house. he vaguely remembers jimin explaining to him how colouring outside of the lines is completely fine, that it doesn’t make the drawing less beautiful or perfect. he decides that drawing is his favourite one. “you won’t always be here anymore, and we can’t go to the playground everyday.”

“we’re not at the playground today,” jimin points out, eyebrow raised up to his hairline.

jungkook’s fingers tug at the end of his red belt, eyes closing again. “i know but it’s just—you’re also in dance, and now you’re gonna go to cram school everyday until, like, midnight, and i won’t get to see you anymore.”

jimin doesn’t say anything for a while; jungkook feels him stare at the side of jungkook’s face. the bed shifts as jimin climbs off, and jungkook opens his eyes then to follow his movements across the room. jimin doesn’t walk far—only to the drawers by his desk—and grabs chimchim from his place next to the box of tissues, handing the stuffed bunny to jungkook. the younger wraps his arms around the bunny on instinct, breathing in the familiar old smell he’s accustomed to.

“i’m not going to leave you and forget about you,” jimin promises, petting chimchim’s head. “besides, you’ll always have chimchim, right? i gave him to you so you would never be lonely.”

“actually, you gave it to me so i would always have a friend when i get lost.”

jimin flicks his forehead. “stop being a brat.”

jungkook grins. “can’t. jihyunie’s too nice to you. one of us has to be the bratty younger brother.”

jimin flicks his forehead again. “honestly, when i found you at the store that day, i wasn’t asking to suddenly pick up another pest.”

“too bad,” jungkook says, bunny teeth on his face. “you’re stuck with me, hyung, and i’m gonna annoy you forever.”

“i regret all my decisions,” jimin exaggerates, and jungkook laughs, snorting as jimin pretends to look stressed over the fact young jimin was simply far too nice.

they stayed like that for a while—jimin sitting up on one side of the bed, jungkook hugging chimchim on the other. jimin’s math workbook is forgotten on the floor, having fallen when jimin went to grab chimchim, and jungkook’s sketchbook lies right next to it, pages a little crinkled.

“hey, jungkook?” jimin calls, and jungkook hums, turning to look at his friend. “if you want, we could promise to go to the playground every weekend.”

“i still won’t see you everyday, though,” jungkook points out.

jimin smiles sadly. “true, but at least twice a week is better than none.”

jungkook pouts. “i guess.”

a laugh escapes jimin’s throat, and the elder is back to poking jungkook’s stomach, despite his many protests. “don’t be so down. it’s not like i’m cutting you out of my life.”

“you might as well be. who am i supposed to talk to? jihyunie?”

“you have plenty in common with jihyun.”

“hyung,” jungkook says seriously. “last time jihyun and i were in the same room together without you, we ended up having a competition to see who could fit the most pens in their mouth. we have too much in common.”

“then don’t stick pens in your mouth,” jimin advises carelessly. jungkook frowns at him, and jimin laughs again. “also, you were, like, five. i’m pretty sure you’ve learned your lesson now.”

“i wasn’t five, i was ten. you didn’t know me when i was five.”

“i wish i did.” jimin smiles. “you were probably a cute little toddler.”

jungkook hums. “probably cuter than jihyunie too.”

“oh my gosh, your rivalry with jihyun is getting out of hand,” jimin groans. “he’s my brother. i’m not going to choose you over him.”

“but you’ll choose me over him, right?” comes a new voice, and both of them turn to the doorway to see jihyun dressed in his soccer gear. jungkook glances at the clock and realises he’s late for dinner; he’ll ask jimin’s mom to call his mom later and hopes he’s not intruding by asking for food. jimin’s mom probably wouldn’t care, anyways. jungkook has become the third park son, while jungkook’s parents have easily adopted the park siblings into the jeon family.

jimin glares at his brother, throwing a pillow at the doorway. jihyun manages to dodge it, ducking in time, and laughs maniacally as jimin tries to throw his eraser at him. “i’m not choosing anyone over anyone, hyunnie.”

“but i’m your brother,” jihyun whines, and this time, jimin throws jungkook’s eraser.

jungkook shoots him a look of betrayal.

“mom! jungkook and jimin-hyung are ganging up on me!”

“are not!” jungkook and jimin protest simultaneously, jimin climbing off the bed to chase after his brother. jungkook takes his time, bringing chimchim along with him as he approaches the dining table downstairs.

jimin’s mom just sighs, hanging up the phone—jungkook figures she just got off the phone with his mom. “jimin, jihyun, play nice. jungkook-ah, do you mind helping me set the table?”

“i got it,” jimin offers immediately, shoving both jihyun and jungkook towards the table.

jungkook watches jimin fetch the plates.

“hey, kook-ah,” jihyun calls, catching the boy’s attention. jihyun grins at him. “do you wanna play kickball with me and my school friends at the park next week?”

jungkook’s eyes flicker to jimin. “uh. maybe.”

jihyun doesn’t say anything—just beams as though jungkook’s already made a promise despite the both of them knowing he’s not going to show up. jimin just acts as though he didn’t hear the conversation, instead asking jungkook to pass him his bowl so he could fill it up with rice. he doesn’t bring up the topic either when he’s walking jungkook home after dinner, leaving almost immediately after they say goodbye.

and jungkook would lie and say it doesn’t hurt that jimin doesn’t try to talk to him the week he starts cram school, that it’s okay he doesn’t get to see jimin all week, that going to play kickball with jihyun compensated for the time he doesn’t spend with jimin. but it does hurt, and it’s not okay, and jungkook remembers how much he hated being alone in the first place.

he tries not to cry when he goes to sleep, hugging chimchim to his chest, suddenly feeling like the little lost boy in the middle of the giant grocery store.

jungkook doesn’t see jimin for two weeks. the first weekend after jimin started cram school, jimin called jungkook to tell him he can’t make it to the park; he had a test to study for the following monday and he was sure to fail if he didn’t get in some extra cramming. jungkook didn’t think it was possible to have a test one week into the school year, but he didn’t say anything, just mumbled an okay and then hung up the phone. after all, he wasn’t in middle school. he wouldn’t know.

the following weekend, jimin had a dance competition. he called late friday night, when jungkook should have been asleep but was instead playing videogames on his playstation, and invited the younger to come watch him perform a combination of pop and street—whatever those were. jungkook was ready to agree until his mother reminded him his aunt was coming to visit, and so they hung up with dismay, postponing their meetup until the next weekend.

to say it didn’t frustrate jungkook would be a lie; while jungkook isn’t a stranger to cram school, being enrolled in one himself, he hates how jimin’s longer school hours forced him to take the later tutoring classes, effectively shutting jungkook out from his life. he voiced his thoughts out to his mom, but she merely smiled and asked him if he wanted to pick up art classes again. jungkook agreed for the sake of avoiding another session of kickball with jihyun and his friends.

now, his weekdays consist of school until two in the afternoon, cram school immediately after, then an hour of taekwondo or art school, depending on the day. he misses when jimin used to be a part of the equation; lately, he’s been talking to chimchim more and more, and the concern in his mother’s eyes is apparent.

luckily, jimin’s sunday this week is free; he’s completed all his homework for monday just so he can spend time with the best friend he misses. when the news reached jungkook (apparently jimin had called the jeon household around ten at night when jungkook was asleep), he didn’t spare another minute, quickly completing his assignments before his mother could even ask.

they’ve decided on the playground, per jimin’s promise three weeks ago, red and blue bikes sitting on the floor as they chew on kimbaps jimin’s mother packed for them. jihyun has a soccer game today, leaving the two to play together, and jungkook, in all honesty, doesn’t exactly mind; he’s seen too much of the younger brother with his constant invitations to kickball and his mother’s continuous approval of said invitations. as much as jungkook likes jihyun, he isn’t necessarily fond of making new friends.

jimin pops another slice of kimbap in his mouth before slurping on a bottle of banana milk jungkook brought with him. he adjusts the straw properly before taking a second sip, setting it down next to the tupperware of food on the picnic table. “i’ve decided what high school i want to go to.”

“already?” jungkook bites off a piece of banana choco chip and dusts the crumbs on his jeans. “you’ve got, like, a million years left, hyung.”

“i’ve got two, dummy,” jimin corrects, frowning at the way jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. he releases a heavy sigh before producing a packet of tissues, which he hands over to the younger. “well, three if you count this year.”

“you’ve got plenty of time,” jungkook reasons, pulling out a tissue and wiping his mouth with it. his hands discard it in the trashcan, soon moving across the table in search of banana milk. he pokes a straw through the paper seal. “why are you rushing?”

jimin rolls his eyes. “three years isn’t a lot of time, jungkookie. at least, that’s what mom said. she said it’ll be gone before a blink of an eye, and then i’ll be in college, and then i’ll be married with kids.”

“gross,” jungkook comments, wrinkling his nose. “babies look like potatoes.”

“they don’t look like potatoes,” jimin argues, frowning at the image. a small huff escapes his lips, and he slurps his banana milk frustratedly. “they’re cute. i want kids when i grow up.”

“kids are annoying.”

“you’re a kid,” he points out, and jungkook pouts, whining and protesting how he’s at least a big kid now, which makes him less of a kid. jimin mutters something about how there isn’t much of a difference, but jungkook’s mind is already elsewhere—what would jimin look like with kids?

“hey, hyung,” jungkook interrupts, and jimin pauses his little speech to look at him with a questioning gaze. jungkook frowns deeper. “where do babies come from?”

jimin pauses, eyes blinking unreadably, and jungkook simply stares back with large eyes, waiting for an answer. after a while, he gets bored of simply waiting and pops another kimbap in his mouth, jimin still deep in thought.

his answer is less than satisfactory. “i—i actually don’t know.”

“but you’re in middle school.”

“i’ve only just started!” jimin huffs. “besides, it’s not like i know everything. i don’t even remember when jihyunie was born.”

jungkook hums. “my mom says babies pop out of the mom’s stomach. but, like, how did it get there?”

“i literally said i don’t know,” jimin mumbles, but he, too, looks confused and curious about the answer to jungkook’s question. “how did you even come up with that question anyway? we weren’t even talking about babies.”

“we were talking about how you wanna have kids,” jungkook reminds in between chews, and jimin scolds him effectively, frowning at him disapprovingly. the image reminds him of all the times his mother looked disappointed at something he did, but for some reason, he finds it especially sad to see on jimin’s face. he decides to chew slowly, swallowing before he speaks.

jimin eats a banana choco chip. “i don’t even remember how we got there.”

“you’re the one who brought it up. we were just talking about high school.”

“ah, right!” jimin grins. “speaking of high school, my mom agreed to let me prepare for busan arts.”

jungkook blinks. “what’s that?”

a laugh escapes jimin’s throat, fingers moving to pinch jungkook’s chubby cheeks. the younger can only whine as jimin coos at jungkook’s oblivion, patting the younger’s head as he adjusts the beanie covering the locks of black hair. “busan arts is an arts high school, jungkookie. it’s where you can learn to dance and sing and draw and stuff.”

“arts high school?” jungkook tilts his head. “does that mean i won’t have to do math ever again?”

jimin laughs again. “silly. you still have to do math, but it’s not gonna be super hard. what you’re mostly learning is art, and i wanna learn dance.”

“but you’re already learning dance.”

“i wanna be super good,” jimin explains slowly, “and if i wanna be super good, then i have to go to the best art school so i can learn from the best.”

jungkook frowns, thinking deeply. “so is busan arts the best?”

“the very best,” jimin agrees. “and then i have to get into k-arts so i can learn even more dance. i’m gonna be the best dancer in the world, jungkookie.”

he’s silent for a moment, contemplating, fingers digging into his thighs. if jimin gets into busan arts—the best art school—does that mean he’s going to spend more time dancing and less time with jungkook? and what will happen when jimin becomes the best dancer in the world? will he perform like the idols on tv? will he still hang out with jungkook? will he still be his hyung?

the fear grips him by the shoulder, a chill spreading through his body. he wishes he brought chimchim to the playground with him, suddenly needing his old friend to calm him down. his teeth digs into his bottom lip as he tries to avoid thinking about jimin leaving him, to block out every scenario where jimin won’t be his friend anymore.

“jungkookie?” jimin’s voice suddenly cuts through his thoughts like a knife, and he looks up to find the elder staring at him with worried eyes. “are you okay? do you want to go home?”

“i,” jungkook begins, unsure of where to go from there. what is he going to say? “i—i’ll be like you, hyung.”

jimin blinks, tilting his head to the side. “what do you mean, jungkook-ah?”

“i’m going to get into busan arts too,” jungkook announces, the logic falling into place in his head. if he follows jimin’s plan every step of the way, he wouldn’t have to leave him. jimin won’t have a reason to leave him. “and then i’ll go to cray-arts and become a super famous dancer too.”

“it’s k-arts, jungkook-ah,” jimin corrects, giggling. he closes the tupperware, now empty of kimbap, and chucks his empty banana milk away. “and you shouldn’t follow me like that. get your own dream.”

jungkook’s lip quivers. he stares at the ground. “but i wanna be with you, hyung.”

jimin sighs, a soft smile tugging on his lips. “i’ll always be with you, jungkookie. now come on, it’s getting late. i’ll take you home, okay?”

he doesn’t say anything, just nods in response, and begins to help put away the containers into the small backpack jimin brought with him. the banana choco chips quickly disappear into his mouth, its bag chucked into the trashcan along with the tissues and jungkook’s banana milk. jimin straps on his helmet and climbs on his bike, backpack pressed firmly against his back. jungkook copies him, pedalling a couple feet away from his hyung as they trekked up the winter streets back towards jungkook’s house.

“that’s a lie,” he whispers, fingers coiling a little tighter around the handles of his red bike. he thinks about the three weeks he’s spent without jimin. the fear freshly claws at him once more.

he doesn’t say goodbye when jimin finally leaves.

he was right; jungkook doesn’t get to see jimin often. in between the art classes his mother signed him up for, taekwondo, and the cram school he attends, jimin suddenly becomes almost absent from his life, and the sleepovers they throw become rare and spare, the visits to the playground a biweekly routine—if time is kind. the hours he normally spends with jimin goes to jihyun before jungkook decides he’s too shy for jihyun’s friends, and then it’s back to his bedroom, chimchim sitting on his desk as he paints watercolours on blank paper.

this time, though—this time he’s determined to make sure jimin doesn’t disappear, because he’s finally going to attend the same school as his hyung for the first time in his life, and he’s going to make sure he spends every minute with the elder.

he smooths down the creases on his blazer, fixes the tie around his neck; his dad taught him just that morning, carefully repeating the process over and over until jungkook was able to get it right. a small smile curves its way on his lip, and he tosses his backpack over his shoulder, socked feet bounding down the stairs.

his dad is sitting at the dining table, reading the paper. he looks up once when jungkook slides through the doorway, eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

“someone’s excited,” he comments, and jungkook just shrugs, skipping over to sit across his dad.

“it’s because he’s walking to school with a special someone today,” his mother teases from the kitchen. she walks over with a plate of kimbap, ruffling jungkook’s hair affectionately. jungkook only whines once as he tries to pat it down before the sight of breakfast becomes too tempting to ignore.

“that’s not true,” jungkook mumbles through his food, and his mother frowns, briefly scolding him. he swallows. “i’m excited for a lot of things.”

“i bet jimin-hyung’s one of them,” his father adds.

jungkook whines again.

the doorbell rings and jungkook jumps from his seat, eyes lighting up as he stuffs two pieces of kimbap in his mouth at once. his mother barely has time to hand him his lunch before he’s running towards the front door, his father trailing behind him with his briefcase in one hand, a coat in the other.

jungkook tugs on his winter coat before opening the door, feet still clad in socks and only socks.

jimin looks at him, amused. “someone’s excited.”

the smile on jungkook’s frown falls. he tries to look serious. “am not.”

behind him, his father laughs. “don’t be fooled, jimin-ah. he’s been jumping around all morning.”

“have not!”

a giggle escapes jimin’s lips as he bows at jungkook’s father in greeting. “morning, jungkook’s dad. going to work today?”

“like everyday.” his father pats both their heads and finishes up tying the laces on his dress shoes. “be good a student today, okay, kook-ah?”

jungkook grins. “like everyday.”

“that’s not what i’ve heard,” jimin mumbles as jungkook’s father exits the door, and jungkook jabs him in the stomach, eliciting a pained cry from the elder. jimin glares, rubbing at the spot on his stomach, before turning to jungkook with squinty eyes. “did you grow taller?”

jungkook shrugs. “maybe? i’m a growing boy. who knows, maybe i’ll be taller than you, hyung.”

jimin glares. “you’re such a brat.”

“you love me anyways.”

“debatable.” he adjusts the straps of his bag. “goodbye, jungkook’s mom! i’ll take jungkook to school safely!”

there’s the sound of dishes, the stop of tap water. “thank you, jimin-ah! study hard, boys!”

jungkook closes the door behind him. the walk to school is filled with inside jokes for the most part, jungkook clinging unnecessarily close to jimin; the elder doesn’t comment, simply drapes his arm around jungkook’s shoulder as they make their way to the bus stop. he misses this—the vanilla scent of jimin’s hair, the lilt in his voice as he retells some story about jihyun and his mom, the random punches he throws while laughing, eyes disappearing from his face.

cold air coats the area around his mouth. he nuzzles jimin’s arm. “i’ve missed you, hyung.”

“i’ve missed you too, kookie,” jimin whispers. jungkook pulls away and sees the soft smile on jimin’s face, the smooth crinkles around his eyes. his heart beats twice as fast.

the bus pulls up then, and they both climb inside, scanning their passes at the front before climbing into the seat near the back. they share little words between them as they sat side by side, jungkook occasionally pointing at the random things he sees through the little bus window, and jimin laughs, pinching his cheeks and commenting on how cute jungkook is.

“i’m always cute,” he replies, settling comfortably in his seat. jimin snorts, as though to protest. “where’s hyunnie, by the way?”

“he wanted to go to the other school,” jimin explains. “the one in the opposite direction. all his friends from elementary school are going there.”

jungkook sits up straight. “so it’s only us?”

jimin laughs. “well, i have friends at school. but yes, it’s only us.”

jungkook smiles all the way there.

jimin’s friends are nice. there’s jihoon from the playground all those years ago; he teases jungkook and tells him to call him sunbae, but jungkook’s stubborn and rude and drops all honorifics instead. he gets a pinch and a scrunch of a nose, jihoon commenting about the disrespect—but the eyes are fond, and jungkook smiles, glad to have made a friend.

other than jihoon, though, jungkook doesn’t talk to the others. their names blur together in his head, and sometimes, jimin doesn’t sit with him during lunch. it’s times like those that he gets bitter, jihoon leaving the gang to sit with him instead, and the elder becomes the victim to all of jungkook’s rants, pout forever present on small lips.

“i haven’t seen him in two years,” jungkook complains, shoulders hunched forward. “shouldn’t he pay more attention to me?”

jihoon hums, stealing a shrimp cracker from jungkook’s bag. he chews thoroughly, a hand on his chin. “he can’t just abandon his old friends for you, jungkook-ah.”

“but i’m his oldest friend.” jungkook crosses his arm. “and he’s abandoning me.”

“i can promise you he never will,” jihoon swears, dusting his hands as he gets up from the desk next to jungkook’s. they’re eating in one of the third year’s classrooms again—jimin’s class, jungkook knows, because he’s sitting at his desk. jimin’s sitting next to his friend near the back, loud laughs exploding from his mouth. “he talks about you a lot. sit with him; he’ll include you for sure.”

jungkook hums, closing the lid of his lunchbox as jihoon waves goodbye at his older friends who are all hunched over somebody’s phone. they all wave bye, eyes barely drifting over to the second-year, and jihoon leaves, patting jungkook twice on the shoulder before he runs to catch up with someone else. jungkook slips the lunchbox back into his bag, sighing as he stands.

unlike jihoon, he doesn’t wave goodbye. he doesn’t see a point anyway.

“you didn’t talk to hyung at school,” is the first thing jihyun accuses him of when they meet after months of separation. they somehow ended up at the same cram school, attending the same second-year tutoring class.

jimin’s already graduated from middle school and is now attending busan arts as promised.

jungkook pouts. “he’s the one who didn’t talk to me.”

jihyun looks puzzled. “that’s not what hyung says.”

“yeah, well, jimin-hyung is lying,” jungkook grumbles. “he’s always talking to his friends. he’s never talking to me.”

jihyun hums. their teacher comes up to the front with a large book, and they all rise to greet him. once seated again, jihyun leans across their table to smile at him. “i’ll talk to hyungie.”

jungkook just nods.

the phone call he receives from jimin surprises him; jimin never really calls, instead opts to either shoot a kakao message or simply drop by unannounced, though the latter is a rare occurrence. jungkook pauses through his math homework—he really hates algebra—and stares at the caller id in confusion, wondering whether he should pick up.

after the fifth ring, he does.

jimin’s voice is crystal and clear; despite having heard it almost everyday at school, he misses it. after all, it’s not the same to hear jimin’s voice from a corner of the room, and while it’s definitely different through the phone, at least the words are being directed at him. jimin’s finally talking to him.

“i’m sorry,” jimin says, and jungkook notices how deep jimin’s voice has gotten. the second thing he notices is how sad jimin sounds. “jihyun talked to me. i’m—i’m really late, but i wish i had known earlier. i didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“it’s okay, hyung,” jungkook whispers. it’s really not okay, but he’ll forgive and forget. jimin’s his best friend.

jimin sniffles, and jungkook realises he’s been crying. “you should’ve said something, though. it’s not completely my fault either.”

jungkook blinks. he sets his pencil down and stares at the numbers. a distant memory plays in his head; he remembers watching jimin work through his homework, confused why there are suddenly letters involved in math. he purses his lips and walks to his bookshelf where chimchim sits. “i’m sorry, hyung.”

“we’re both a mess, huh?” jimin whispers, and jungkook hugs the bunny to his chest, flopping on his bed. he stares at the ceiling where he’s resorted to pasting some of his art when the walls become too crowded.

jungkook sighs. “a complete mess.”

“what are you doing this weekend?” jimin asks, and jungkook hears rustles of paper in the background; he wonders if jimin’s doing homework like he was.

nonchalantly, his eyes drift to the calendar his mother forces him to keep on his bedside table; a detailed outline of every activity he has that month is scrawled in messy handwriting over the dates. he hums. “yeah. i’m not doing anything this week.”

“wanna come to dance class with me?” jimin sounds shy. jungkook wonders why. they’re friends. they don’t have a reason to be shy. “my teacher said we can bring a friend to the intro courses, and i remember you said you wanted to try going to busan arts—”

jungkook’s eyes widen, sitting up. he almost forgot his promise to himself, the sheer determination to follow jimin’s footsteps in order not to lose him. he’s tried it once—going to the same school as jimin, that is—but just because that failed doesn’t mean it will again. he stands up suddenly, putting on his slippers before rushing to his parents’ room.

“i’m free. let me just ask my mom—”

“don’t have to,” jimin interrupts, and jungkook’s hand falls from the knob to door of his parents’ bedroom. “i, uh, already talked to her today. i think you were in art class that time. i didn’t know you were taking extra classes.”

“i’ve been taking them since sixth grade,” jungkook confesses. “i had to do something when you suddenly—when you couldn’t hang out anymore.”

there’s momentary silence, and jungkook wishes he could take back his words. as bitter as he is, he didn’t mean to come off as accusatory. he just really missed his friend.

“i’m sorry,” jimin whispers again.

“me too,” jungkook whispers back.

the sound of pencil scratches fill the air. “i gotta go study again, but—we’ll meet this saturday, right? you’ll come, right?”

“of course, hyung.” jungkook smiles. he returns to his desk and picks up his pencil. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

the dance studio is crowded when he comes in; it’s as though every student at the school has brought a plus one. jungkook stands awkwardly near the back with jimin as they do some basic stretches. according to jimin, his high school often holds beginners’ workshops like these so the locals could learn the basics of dancing. jimin’s supposed to be an assistant today, but he promises to cling to jungkook like a koala. jungkook frowns and points out he can’t exactly dance if jimin does that.

the instructor is a third-year dance student with an emphasis in street dance, and jungkook watches with big eyes as his muscles moved as though there are no bones attached to it. jimin whistles next to him and nods appreciatively before joining the others in the front as they re-execute the moves demonstrated just seconds ago. the level of skill intimidates jungkook; maybe he shouldn’t have come.

“alright! let’s try this out once,” the instructor says after a while, and jungkook gulps, sweat clinging to his forehead. his limbs are flexible enough; years of taekwondo granted him that capability, and he’s not a black belt for nothing. but the movements are unfamiliar, the rhythm strange, and he can’t quite remember what the last step was even though he’s repeated it a million times.

he huffs, sinking to the floor as his hands search the wooden floorboards for his bottle. he finds the plastic a little ways off and practically chugs all the liquid down, knowing he’ll regret it later when the water will surely climb back up his throat in the form of vomit.

“need help?”

jungkook doesn’t need to look up to know it’s jimin. (no one else would talk to him anyways.) he looks up with tired eyes and sadly nods, and jimin laughs, offering him a hand as the elder pulls him up onto his feet.

“what part don’t you get?” jimin asks, and jungkook shifts his foot uncomfortably.

“everything?” jungkook shrugs. “dancing is weird.”

“that’s because you’re not use to it,” jimin explains, dragging jungkook somewhere even farther down the room. he leads them to a corner where people don’t stick to each other as much, and jungkook finds he can breathe a little easier. “try this.”

when jimin does it, the moves seem effortless, almost fooling jungkook to believe it’s really not all that hard. it only takes jungkook a second to remember he’s wrong, though, but jimin doesn’t laugh when he fumbles, only smiles and congratulates him for getting the parts he executed perfectly and moves to correct the rest.

they work like that for a while until jungkook’s arms are aching, and jimin’s grin is so wide jungkook’s afraid his cheeks will split. up front, the instructor tells everyone to take a break before they come back to put everything together, and jungkook sinks to the ground, wanting more than anything to simply melt to the floor. even taekwondo isn’t this exhausting.

jimin hands him his water bottle, sinking into the spot beside him. “isn’t it fun?”

“more like torture,” jungkook mumbles, accepting the drink. he swallows three gulps, completely draining the bottle. jimin laughs and hands him his water, and jungkook smiles, taking careful sips from that as well. “but i guess it’s kinda fun.”

“you’ll get used to it, bud,” jimin promises. he leans against the mirror behind them and watches jungkook struggle to sit up while drinking. “you’re so silly, kookie.”

“only for you, hyung,” jungkook promises, eyes twinkling mischievously.

jimin laughs. “my kookie.”

something inside jungkook thunders.

the instructor calls them up again, and they both rise to their feet, wiping sweaty hands on their shirts. jimin moves to leave jungkook’s side, but jungkook’s hand grabs onto his before the younger can fully comprehend what he’s doing. the quizzical look is enough to make jungkook hesitate, lips pursed in a tight line as he avoids his hyung’s gaze.

“don’t leave me,” jungkook whispers, and jimin smiles softly, pulling jungkook to his feet.

“i’ll be right here, jungkookie,” jimin promises.

the instructor looks over at jimin expectantly. he nods once when jimin points at jungkook, an understanding smile on his face.

jimin never leaves jungkook’s side once.

“mom?” jungkook calls while he finishes his homework at the dining table. it’s been a week since the dance workshop, and jimin manages to keep his promise. they text everyday, ending every night with an hour call.

his mother pokes her head from the kitchen. “yes, kook-ah?”

“can i maybe pick up dance?”

the surprised look on his mom’s face uneases jungkook, but then she’s grinning, abandoning the dishes she’s washing at the sink. “where’s this coming from? you’ve never asked for anything like this before.”

“i just—” jungkook looks at his homework. “i wanna go to busan arts.”

his mother doesn’t mention how she knows that’s where jimin goes, simply smiling wider and nodding agreeingly at the plan. “i’ll talk to your father about it. and i’ll ask jimin’s mom where she used to send jimin before high school.”

jungkook looks up in surprise. “really?”

“of course.” his mother smiles. “are you still going to do art?”

he looks at the little doodles at the corner of his pages. he knows taekwondo, dance, art and cram school is a lot for his parents. he shakes his head. “i’ll teach myself.”

“okay. if you need anything, you just ask us, okay?”

“okay, mom.” he pauses and then turns to look up at his mother. she’s still standing in the doorway. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome, jungkook-ah. just work hard, okay?”

jungkook nods and returns to conjugating english verbs.

he doesn’t quite know when it begins. perhaps, it’s always been this way, and he has simply been completely oblivious to the fact, or perhaps it started when he and jimin began drifting apart.

either way, he thinks he likes jimin, but that doesn’t make sense because boys don’t like boys, but there really isn’t any other explanation because—

“there’s a really cute girl in my class,” jimin says as he sips on his bubble tea, and jungkook’s stomach squeezes, hands curling together into fists. “i wonder if i should ask her out.”

jungkook doesn’t respond. he simply stares at the drink in front of him, leg bouncing against the table. they’re at a bubble tea place near jungkook’s new dance academy, where jimin previously attended and now works as an office aide for the secretary—it’s not a teaching position, and jimin doesn’t get to dance, but at least jungkook gets to see his face first thing when he walks in. jimin always makes an excuse to pop by jungkook’s class anyways, claiming there’s a form jungkook’s instructor needs to sign. jungkook’s sure his teacher is getting annoyed and suspicious, but it’s worth seeing jimin’s smile and wink before he leaves with the faux document.

the sun is beating down on them now that it’s summer, and jungkook pulls at the t-shirt he’s wearing, regretting the colour black.

jimin leans back in his chair and slurps on his drink louder. “wouldn’t it be nice to have a girlfriend, jungkook?”

“i guess,” he finally mumbles back. there’s tiny little pearls still stuck at the bottom of the cup, but jungkook doesn’t bother sucking them up with his straw. he simply throws the empty drink away, only returning to his seat after stretching for a bit. it’s still really hot.

“one of my sunbaes has a girlfriend, and they look really happy,” jimin comments, kicking his feet. “i wanna be able to go on dates and eat ice cream together.”

“we ate ice cream together,” jungkook blurts. heat creeps up into his cheeks. “like, literally yesterday.”

“that’s different.” jimin pouts. “that’s just two friends hanging out, kookie. when you have a girlfriend, you can hold hands and kiss and stuff.”

“but we hold hands and kiss and stuff,” jungkook protests again, and he blushes even more. he doesn’t even know why he’s insisting dating a girl wouldn’t be much different than what they have. all he knows is that there is bile and a lump in his throat at the idea of jimin and a girl going on dates and holding hands and kissing, and he wants to clench his fists and storm off angrily because jimin doesn’t need a girlfriend.

jimin laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “that’s different, jungkookie. we don’t even kiss—i mean, i guess i do kiss your cheek, but that’s brotherly love. i mean with a girlfriend, you get to properly kiss, like on the lips with tongue and stuff.”

“that sounds gross,” jungkook mumbles back. he slides down his seat.

jimin snorts. “of course you’d say that. you're such a kid.”

“i’m not a kid.” he hates that word; it reminds him of how much younger he is compared to jimin, how he’s the same age as his younger brother. he hates it.

“cute,” jimin commends, and jungkook’s stomach squeezes, another blush forming across his cheeks. if it was hot before, it’s definitely scorching now. “my cute little jungkookie.”

“i’m leaving,” jungkook announces, standing up.

jimin laughs, following him as they both leave the bubble tea café. jungkook hears jimin toss his plastic cup in the trash before he jogs to catch up, easily striding up to match his pace with the younger. he bumps his shoulder against jungkook’s, smiling softly.

“you know i promised i won’t ever leave you,” jimin reminds him, linking their arms. the place where their skin meets burns, and jungkook struggles to slip away. if jimin is bothered by it, he doesn’t show. “if i ever get a girlfriend, i’m not going to ignore you, you know.”

“yeah,” jungkook mutters, though he doubts that’s his main concern. he doesn’t tell jimin though, closing his eyes and trying to push away the thought of jimin’s smile from his mind.

his stomach dances still. he excuses himself to use the bathroom.

in his third year of middle school, jungkook is pulled to the back of the school by a girl named jung eunbi—he doesn’t know much about her other than the fact she transferred halfway through his second year. he knows a bunch of his classmates have a crush on her, which is why he’s surprised when she blushes and looks at the ground, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“i really like you, jungkook,” she whispers, as though she’s afraid that if she says it any louder, it will jinx her chances of a confession back. “i know we don’t know each other well, but we can give it a try, if you want.”

“i—” his voice breaks, and he wonders what the right response would be. he stares at her, realising there’s no actual physical attraction, but he doesn’t want to break her heart; she looks hopeful, nervous for his answer, and jungkook purses his lips, weighing the words against his tongue. the right thing to do is to confess he doesn’t feel the same, maybe even say that he likes someone else, someone who’s in high school and way out of his league.

but the thought of jimin churns his stomach, and suddenly, he feels queasy. jimin doesn’t like him—he’s made that clear the past year, continuously doting on him as though he’s a younger brother.

besides, jimin doesn’t like boys.

so he finds himself nodding, forcibly smiling as though it’s real. he hopes eunbi can’t tell, and she doesn’t because she looks even more hopeful than before.

“sure,” he finally says, and the words taste bitter on his tongue. guilt brews in his stomach. he pushes it away. “i’d really like to get to know you too, eunbi.”

she laughs, and he admits the sound is pretty. eunbi is pretty. “do you—can we trade numbers?”

“oh,” jungkook realises and pulls out his phone. he hands it to her as she hands him hers, and they both punch in their respective numbers. his phone is returned to him with a smile, and he smiles back, wondering if his smile does the same thing to her as jimin’s smile does to him.

“thank you, jungkook.”

“you can be more familiar, you know,” jungkook mumbles shyly. he stares at the ground. “since—since we’re dating now.”

eunbi beams. “sure. and you can speak comfortably with me, too. can i give you nicknames?”

“yeah,” jungkook agrees, nodding easily. he pauses, thinking about the animes he watches. “do you—do you want me to walk you home today?”

her smile is a thousand watts. “i’d love that.”

he smiles kindly at her. “i’ll meet you at your class? the advanced one, right?”

“yep.” she grins. “thank you, jungkook-ah.”

he forces a nod and a brighter smile. “of course, eunbi.”

“hey, hyung,” jihyun begins, and jungkook glares, ready to tackle the younger park to the ground. they’re hanging out by the old playground, the three of them crowding around one of the old picnic tables. they don’t recognise any of the kids anymore, but their laughter is still soothing. their presence excites the kids, too. jungkook’s gotten five high fives from three boys and ten flowers from three girls. jimin’s got sixteen. jihyun is empty-handed.

“jihyun,” jungkook warns, but jihyun just smirks, leaning against his bike. he just received a new one for his birthday, and it looks cool next to jungkook’s old one and jimin’s antique.

jihyun leans forward. “jungkookie’s got a girlfriend.”

he lurches forward and tackles him to the ground.

“fucking—ow ! what the hell, jungkook—why would you do that—”

“hey, hey,” jimin scolds, prying them apart. he struggles a bit, though. jungkook’s bulked up a little over the year with how much he dances, and he’s grown taller, too. jimin and jungkook are now the same height, jihyun trailing a little behind. “break it up, you guys.”

“he started it,” jungkook blames, glaring childishly at the younger brother. jihyun merely glares back with a tongue sticking out.

jimin groans. “why can’t you two just get along?”

“we do get along,” they both respond. they turn back to each other and glare again.

jimin sighs. “you obviously don’t. not everything’s a competition, you guys.”

“tell that to jungkook,” jihyun mumbles, and jungkook jabs his arm.

“you’re the one that’s always trying to one-up me—”

“oh, just shut up,” jimin finally says, exasperation dripping off his tongue. he frowns at the two of them. “i love you both, okay? now sit down and don’t fight.”

they both sit down reluctantly and cross their arms over their chest.

jihyun opens his mouth to speak. “jungkook has a girlfriend.”

“fucking park—”

“enough with the fighting,” jimin interrupts. he sighs. “so jungkook has a girlfriend, and you’re jealous. suck it up, jihyun.”

“what—i’m not jealous!”

jungkook snickers.

jimin rolls his eyes, but soon turns to look at jungkook with fond eyes. jungkook’s stomach does a somersault and a backflip, which he tries to contain because, well, he has a girlfriend now. “i’m so happy for you, jungkookie. my kookie, all grown up.”

“gross,” jihyun mumbles, and for once, jungkook agrees.

“stop it, jimin-hyung,” jungkook whines when jimin tries to hug him, pushing him away. he misses the frown on jimin’s face. “besides, it’s not a big deal.”

“it is a big deal,” jimin corrects. “i’ve never had a girlfriend, and even jihyunnie’s jealous of you.”

“i’m not jealous!”

jimin ignores him. “how long?”

jungkook stares at the ground, suddenly shy. “uh, today’s our hundredth day. i’m hanging out with her later.”

“you mean a date,” jimin corrects, and his eyes are shining brightly. he doesn’t comment on how jungkook’s kept his relationship a secret from him for so long. “oh my gosh, you’re going on a date. have you kissed yet?”

“i’m gonna hang out with the kids, bye,” jihyun says, leaving quickly and announcing to the kid how he’s a monster who’s going to gobble them all up unless they climb the jungle gym. the kids scream and run away, most of them laughing as they do.

“no,” jungkook mumbles, shuffling his feet. “i don’t know if i’m ready.”

jimin smiles. “you don’t have to force yourself to kiss her. when you’re both ready, you can do it. is she nice?”

he nods, smiling. he still feels guilty for lying to her about his attraction, but he can’t say he doesn’t like spending time with her. she loves watching movies, and he finds that he enjoys exploring different genres with her in the comforts of her living room. “yeah. she’s really nice.”

“can i meet her?” jimin asks, eyes wide and curious.

jungkook purses his lips. he doesn’t know if he likes the idea of his girlfriend meeting his crush. eunbi might find out, and she’s too nice to have her heart broken. but he supposes it’s already too late; he’s set her up for that the moment he agreed to date her.

“i can ask her,” he says instead but without intention, though jimin doesn’t have to know that.

jimin smiles at the promise, patting jungkook’s hair. he sinks into his touch, closing his eyes and humming. the screams of the children drown him as jihyun’s roar echo overhead. he likes this—jimin’s hands weaving through his hair, white noise in the background, his heart content with affection. this is how things should be—how he’d like things to be—and he wishes the moment would last a little longer.

of course, fate is against him; his phone rings, and his eyes snap open, jimin’s hand quick to remove itself from his hair. he glances at the contact id—eunbi saved herself as a heart, and jungkook resists the urge to scowl. as much as he likes eunbi (as a friend), he can’t help but feel annoyed at the fact she ruined a perfectly good moment.

“hello?” he says once he picks up, and regrets the irritation that seeps into his voice.

her voice is less than chipper, as though jungkook’s annoyance has absorbed whatever excitement that was previously there. “oh. are you busy, kook-ah?”

the guilt settles in further; he feels like he was caught cheating. he glances at jimin, who is kind enough to give him privacy; he’s staring at the kids instead, watching them carefully, though jungkook is pretty sure he’s eavesdropping. “no, i’m just hanging out with my hyung. sorry, did you need something?”

“you have a brother?” eunbi asks. he hears her mother speaking in the background and deduces she must be home.

“no, he’s an older friend i have,” jungkook explains. he glances at jimin; he’s looking straight at him now, excited smile on his face. jungkook sighs. “he wants to meet you.”

“really? are you sure?” the sound of paper fills the empty space between them, and jungkook shifts his weight from one foot to another. “i mean, we don’t have to—”

“it’s fine, eunbi-yah.” he smiles. “hyung really wants to meet you. i’m not kidding.”

she laughs. it sounds nervous. “well—okay. but not today?”

jungkook hums. “of course. we’re still going to the ice cream shop?”

“kook-ah, it’s november.”

“but i want ice cream,” he whines, and eunbi laughs. he can see her shaking her head, and he feels weird inside. before eunbi, the only person he read so well was jimin, and that took years of friendship to develop. maybe it’s because he spends every day with her?

“okay, we can get ice cream. but i demand popcorn. and candy.”

“yes, ma’am.” jungkook grins. “i’ll see you later?”

“sure.” a pause, and then a heartbeat. “bye, kook-ah.”

the line goes dead then, and he slips his phone back in his pocket. jimin’s face is suddenly inches from his, and he blinks, instinctively recoiling back. a grin makes its way to the elder’s face, his cheeks bunching up into soft, cute lumps. “you like her!”

“i do not,” jungkook protests; it’s the truth, but it comes out like a childish whine, and jimin merely smiles wider, locking him underneath his arms as he ruffles jungkook’s hair affectionately. jungkook groans and thrashes around, knocking jimin effectively off him before he could pester him some more.

jimin giggles, sitting upright, raising an eyebrow at jungkook. “you know, it’s okay to really like a girl.”

“i honestly don’t though,” jungkook mumbles, looking away. he’s been trying to—he honestly has. every moment he’s spent with eunbi, he finds things he likes about her. he likes her smile, how comfortable she makes him feel, the movies she shows her in the dim lights of her living room. but other than that, he can’t find a reason to fall in love; she’s a good friend, the best he’s had since jimin, and every time he looks at her he only feels guilt.

jimin frowns, grabbing jungkook’s arm and forcing the younger to look at him. “jungkook. are you playing around with her feelings?”

“no,” he says but knows it’s a lie. he just hopes jimin doesn’t.

“okay,” jimin says. he sounds unsure, and jungkook wants to erase his hyung’s doubts.

he tosses a pebble across the ground. “do you like any girls? maybe we can go on a double date.”

the idea repulses him; he doesn’t want to see jimin with anyone else. but jimin would be happy, and jungkook would have eunbi, and everything would be alright.

jimin smiles. “ah, no. not at the moment.”

“oh,” jungkook says. he stands. “i should go home. prepare for my date with eunbi.”

“tell her i said hi.”

“okay,” jungkook agrees. he smiles at jimin. “bye, hyung.”

jimin waves. “bye-bye, jungkookie.”

“we should probably break up.”

jungkook stares at eunbi; they’re sitting in his room, with her sprawled across his lap. the homework they’ve been doing lies ignored on his bed, and he’s spent the past ten minutes or so playing with her hair as she reads aloud to him the short story they have to analyse for class.

his fingers pauses in her hair. “what?”

eunbi sets her book down, sighing. she squirms in his lap, moving the arm around her waist and then sitting beside him instead. the smile on her face looks exhausted, and she reaches up to smooth the hair on his forehead.

“i know you don’t really like me, kook-ah,” she admits. “we’ve been dating for five months now. i know you well enough.”

“but i do like you,” he protests, but even to him it sounds like a lie.

she shakes her head. “you like me as a friend. i like you as a boyfriend. it’s not gonna work out.”

“that’s not true.”

“jungkook,” she says seriously. he gulps. “in the five months we’ve been dating, not once have you tried to kiss me—even on the cheek. i kiss you on the cheek all the time. my friends don’t even think we’re dating anymore, even when i pretend that you just don’t like being publicly affectionate.”

he stares at her, then looks at his hands. he wants to protest, to assure her that he does like her and that she’s wrong, but the words get caught in his throat, and he swallows, not knowing what else to say.

eunbi just sighs, hands cupping his face to bring it closer to hers, and jungkook realises how pretty she is; her eyelashes are nice up close, and the brown in her eyes are extraordinarily warm. “kiss me.”

jungkook pulls back. “what?”

“kiss me,” she repeats slowly. “just a peck. then tell me if you actually feel something—because i have a feeling you won’t.”

“i—”

“on the cheek, then,” she compromises. her hand tucks a strand of brown locks behind her hair. “prove to yourself—and me—that you feel something.”

he stares at her, fists clenching and unclenching. he doesn’t want to give his first kiss to her, doesn’t want to give his first of anything anymore than he already has, but the thought of jimin and a girl pops in his head, and he’s reminded of how he can’t like jimin—how jimin can never like him.

his hands cup her face and gently brings her close, and his lips softly touch hers, pressing against it as though to mean something. he sees her close her eyes and respond, and they stay like that, moving their lips silently and clumsily like two new lovers learning how to love. he slowly closes his eyes and feels nothing.

they pull away after a few moments, and eunbi smiles, already knowing the answer. “so?”

“i’m sorry,” jungkook says, voice shaky. he hates himself. “i wasted your time.”

eunbi sighs. “kook-ah, if anything, you were a great first boyfriend.”

he looks up, eyes wet with tears. it feels foreign, the idea of crying over someone else other than jimin, but he thinks eunbi’s worth shedding tears for. after all, she’s been nothing but patient, loving him in ways he never could.

“i just wish i didn’t set you up for heartbreak.”

she wipes away the first drop. “you didn’t know.”

that’s where she’s wrong—he did know.

they stay like that for a moment until jungkook’s mom pokes her head in, telling jungkook to walk eunbi to the bus stop before it gets too late. he instead offers to walk her all the way home—she deserves that much.

“i hope we can still be friends,” eunbi says unsurely once they’ve reached her house. her parents could probably see her from their window but jungkook doesn’t care.

“of course,” he promises, and he means it. eunbi’s another friend he wishes to never lose. “again, i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” she smiles. “as long as you promise to invite me to your future wedding.”

he hums. “i’ll think about it. can’t have you getting jealous.”

“hey,” she says, pinching his arm, and he laughs, pulling her into a hug. she sinks into his embrace. “i’m gonna miss this, though.”

“i can still hug you.” he pauses. “and you can still kiss me too, if it helps boost your ego.”

“i hate you, kook-ah,” she tells him. they both know it’s a lie.

he kisses the top of her head, the way he’s seen them do in all her favourite dramas, because if anything, eunbi deserves her drama-like ending; he finds it easier to give now that they both know there is nothing romantic behind the action. eunbi looks surprised, but she seems to like the gesture. she squeezes him back, clinging onto him a little longer.

she finally pulls apart when her sister opens the door and tells her to hurry. “see you at school?”

“yep. see you, eunbi-yah.”

“bye-bye, kook-ah.”

“you guys broke up? why?”

jungkook shrugs. he’s busy trying to solve math problems again, but jimin’s distracting, and he never liked math anyways. “it just wasn’t right.”

jimin sighs. “and i never got to meet her.”

“you will,” jungkook promises. he moves the phone from his ear to his desk and turns on the speaker. “she’s invited to my future wedding.”

“uh, i don’t think inviting your ex to your wedding is a good idea.”

jungkook laughs. “that’s what i told her. she insisted, though.”

“that’s too bad,” jimin honestly comments. there’s a slight pause, crackling from the other line. his voice is laced with worry when it comes again. “you okay, though, jungkook-ah?”

jungkook hums. “i’m okay. this just gives me more time to prepare for the audition.”

“ah, almost forgot about that. it’s in a month, right?”

“yep. wish me luck.”

jimin scoffs. “you don’t need luck. you’re, like, a really good dancer now, and you’ve had less training than me. you’ll be fine.”

jungkook stares at the date on his calendar. “i hope so.”

jungkook auditions for busan arts in january.

he is accepted by february.

eunbi moves back to ilsan in march.

his father can’t attend the entrance ceremony, but his mother is in the crowd, holding up a camera as she snaps photos of him standing there and listening to the speech, not really paying much attention. jungkook doesn’t know where jimin is, but he knows he’s in the crowd; while enrolled students aren’t required to attend the ceremony, jimin promised he’ll be there, and jungkook believes him. he spent all morning bombarding the elder with messages to confirm his attendance (and boasting to jihyun about how his own brother had decided to attend his entrance ceremony—never mind that jimin was going to jihyun’s the next day anyway).

the event ends as soon as it begins, and jungkook massages his neck, smoothing out the kinks in his shoulders. the principal talked for ages, and jungkook—as much as he likes the school—doesn’t exactly care. he was done by the time the principal finished welcoming them—and that was the first line uttered during the forty-five minute ceremony.

he meets his mother outside, a bright smile on his face, jimin standing proudly beside her. to his surprise, his dad was also there, carrying a bouquet of flowers, no briefcase or folders in hand—just flowers.

he runs up to him and crushes him in a hug. “you came.”

his father peels off his son and grins. “well, i can’t exactly miss my only son’s high school entrance ceremony.”

jungkook grins, and his mother coos as she takes another shot, crying about how much older jungkook’s gotten. jimin laughs as jungkook struggles, but when he turns to the elder, jimin’s sporting a bright smile and a proud gaze. he has chimchim in his arms—and jungkook wants to cry.

“come here, you giant bunny,” jimin says, and jungkook pulls jimin into a hug, inhaling the scent of vanilla that he’s missed so much. he’s missed this—spending time with jimin just because, not worrying about the fact he has a girlfriend elsewhere or that his feelings for the elder might come in between them. if jimin never returns his feelings that’s fine. he would rather trade his broken heart for jimin’s sunshine smile any day.

he peels away from jimin, arm still clutching onto his; jungkook’s slightly taller now, just by a centimetre or two. the fact pleases jungkook, and he spends every second rubbing it in jimin’s face.

“can we go eat jajangmyeon now?”

his father laughs but nods, pushing everyone to the car. jungkook climbs into the backseat with jimin, strapping on the seatbelt as jimin does, too. jimin hands him the bunny.

“i told you you’d get in,” he whispers, ruffling jungkook’s hair affectionately.

jungkook smiles. “i never said i didn’t believe you.”

jimin grins. “i can’t believe you’re a dancer now. what happened to tiny taekwondo, art-nerd kookie?”

“he’s now a three-time taekwondo black-belt champion-dancer-artist kookie.” as an afterthought he adds, “who’s now taller than you, by the way.”

“brat,” jimin calls, moving to roughly shove jungkook—nothing he can’t handle. after all, aside from growing taller, jungkook’s bulked up a lot too. he’s now sixty-one kilos of muscle, thanks to taekwondo, dance and his sudden obsession with weightlifting. jihyun calls him a beast.

“you still love me,” jungkook sings, and jimin snorts, shaking his head.

“i wish i didn’t.”

jungkook playfully glares, but the words tug at his heart a little weirdly; he knows jimin will love him no matter what. he and jihyun are practically blood brothers at this rate, with how much jimin loves them both. (equally, jimin likes to remind, but both seventeen-year-olds would only snort. yeah, right.)

“we’re here, boys,” jungkook’s dad announces once they pull into a parking spot, and the two of them rushe out, racing to the restaurant to see who could make it there first. jungkook’s the first to arrive (naturally), but jimin’s the one who has to reserve the table while the adults make their way across the parking lot. the elder grumbles about this, and jungkook shrugs, smiling cheekily.

“this year is gonna be fun,” jungkook comments. he stares at the rings on jimin’s hands; he remembers how jimin’s developed an interest in accessories and makes an early mental note to buy him a set for his graduation that year. the thought saddens him despite the school year barely beginning, and he forces a smile, eyes crinkling at the corner. “you can’t abandon me this time, hyungie.”

jimin’s smile is soft and regretful, and jungkook knows the promise jimin’ll make is definite, something he won’t break. “of course not, jungkook-ah. never in a million years.”

“good.” jungkook grins. “’cause i’m gonna remind you how short you are everyday.”

“this brat—”

“boys,” jungkook’s mother calls, and they both sit down, staring at each other in a silent conversation. a laugh escapes jimin’s lips before jungkook joins in the chorus, soft tingles vibrating all over his body.

jimin might never like him back, but at least jungkook can gladly say he’s had the privilege of falling in love with the sun.

the year is uneventful; jimin keeps his promise, and jungkook actually sees his hyung every day. after class is over and after-school curriculars begin, jimin and jungkook would race to reserve a studio to themselves before setting to work for hours until jungkook either has to go to taekwondo practice (or class, depending on whether he’s a student or teacher that day) or return home due to the immense amount of homework he’s trying to ignore.

before he knows it, jimin’s set to graduate; aside from the actual graduation itself, the only thing he’s waiting for is a reply from k-arts after months of online applications and document verification. jungkook remembers dropping by jimin’s house before his audition in october to give him one last encouraging speech—it’s probably the only time he and jihyun have gotten along one hundred percent, and jimin smiled then, glad for the message.

they’re sitting in jimin’s room, staring at the computer and refreshing it every thirty seconds. the list of accepted dance students is supposed to come out at five o’clock, and they both skipped the extra three hours of dance practice they usually put in. jungkook even excused himself from teaching the beginner’s class, saying he had a family matter to take care of. he simply hopes they find someone to replace him. he doesn’t want to disappoint the little kids in his class.

“i’m gonna go crazy,” jimin mumbles, pushing himself up into a sitting position. jungkook frowns and reloads the page, which causes jimin to swat his hand away from the mouse. “stop. if i see one more fucking load sign and no updates, i’m gonna tear this fucking house down.”

“wow, you’ve turned into a monster, hyung,” jungkook comments, refreshing the page out of spite. “the jimin-hyung i know doesn’t curse often.”

“fuck you, jungkook,” jimin spits. the alarm goes off on his phone, clock chiming five sharp, and he snatches the laptop from jungkook’s hands, shoving the boy aside. the younger falls onto the floor with an oof, and jungkook glares, rubbing his back in pain.

“ ‘hey, jungkook, scoot over will you.’ ‘oh, of course, hyung, i’ll gladly just roll off the fucking bed.’ ‘thanks, jungkook, you’re the absolute best. i’m glad we’re best friends.’ ”

“shut up,” jimin hisses, fingers crossed. a second passes, and then jungkook climbs up to lean across the screen, and—

jimin gawks at the screen in disbelief. “i made it! jungkook-ah, i actually made it!”

jungkook blinks in surprise, staring at the screen, and then he’s laughing, tackling jimin into a hug as he drags him off the bed to spin him around in circles. the electricity he’s kept hidden sizzles to life inside him and tickles his skin, his heartbeat increasing with every step they take dancing through jimin’s room.

he sets jimin down on the ground, and jimin stares up at him in awe, tears forming in his eyes. “i can’t believe i made it.”

jungkook smiles, and something in him throbs. “of course you did, hyungnim.”

“i should—i should tell my mom,” jimin muses out loud, pulling away. “oh my gosh, she’s gonna be so proud. i’m gonna get to study dance and then i’ll get to be a pro and live in seoul—”

jimin’s voice dies suddenly, and he pauses on his trip to the door, hand freezing on the handle. jungkook stares at him in confusion.

“jimin-hyung?”

“i’m gonna go to seoul,” jimin repeats, and he turns around, frowning. “jungkook, you—”

“what about me?” jungkook asks, though he already knows the answer. he knows jimin’s afraid that they’ll drift apart again, that jimin will accidentally break the one promise he should never break. and if jungkook is honest, he’s afraid of that, too.

jimin swallows. “jungkook, i—i don’t want to leave you.”

there’s a weird silence in the air; one moment they go from celebrating to the sudden realisation of what jimin’s dreams mean. the elder probably never thought this far as he was busy filling out applications and getting the necessary letter of recommendations, too determined to get the process done right to understand what acceptance to k-arts would transpire for the both of them.

jungkook smiles sadly. jimin might not have thought about it, but it’s all he’s been thinking for the past eight months. he walks over to his hyung and engulfs him in a hug, clinging to him a little tighter than needed. he bites back a sob. “don’t let me hold you back, hyung. you should go.”

“but you’ll be alone,” jimin whispers against his neck, and the soft vibrations of jimin’s voice tear jungkook’s heart. jungkook buries his nose in jimin’s vanilla hair and closes his eyes, counting slowly to ten. “i don’t want to drift apart again.”

“we won’t,” jungkook promises. “and if we do, i’ll just come back and kick your ass for breaking your promise twice.”

jimin laughs.

jungkook smiles. “go, hyung. you deserve this. it’s what you’ve been working towards all your life, right?”

“yeah,” jimin agrees, humming. “we’ll keep in touch?”

“always. or, well, if time permits.”

“being realistic now, aren’t we?” jimin teases, pulling away. he’s smiling—a little unsurely, but smiling nonetheless. “are you sure about this, kookie?”

“one hundred percent. i’m your biggest supporter, hyung.”

jimin nods. “okay. i’m gonna tell my mom.”

“and jihyun,” jungkook reminds.

jimin groans. “he’s gonna be pissed he wasn’t the first to hear.”

“well, he’s the one who chose soccer over you,” jungkook comments. he shoots grins. “his loss.”

jimin laughs. “i guess. thanks, jungkookie. for everything.”

jungkook’s grin drops to a soft smile. “anything for you, hyungie.”

jihyun is pissed he doesn’t get to be the first to know, but jimin makes it up to him by extending the invitation to his graduation to him first. jungkook doesn’t really care as he watches jimin accept the certificate, a proud beam on his face.

because he’s the one jimin takes to visit the campus with him over winter break, the one he shows the little dorm room he’ll be living in the day they move in. jihyun doesn’t get to see all these first, but jungkook pretends it’s not the case. the younger park doesn’t have to know.

after jimin leaves, jungkook picks up more work. he practices an extra five hours a day, shuffling between taekwondo and schoolwork. he’s attending cram school again just so he can ensure he will be bumped into an honours class his third year. his father throws him a worried glance every time he wakes up for breakfast with heavy bags under his eyes; his mother pleads for him to stop returning home at two am. but jungkook doesn’t care, ploughing through the hard schedule he created for himself, and excuses himself whenever his parents begin voicing their concerns.

because now, the desire to enter k-arts has multiplied tenfold. every time he calls jimin—every time they skype—he can hear the smile in his voice, and the yearning and longing to be beside him again burns in his chest. the anecdotes of college misadventures are a distant dream, and he misses being a part of jimin’s life, misses laughing with him, misses him.

he stares at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly one. he sighs, stretching his limbs, dragging his tired body over to the computer in the corner. the song he’d been dancing to has long stopped, and the muscles in his legs and arms melt into his bones with every step he takes. he cracks his neck, sinking into the wheelie chair in front of the desk and sighs. he checks the clock again—one o’clock sharp.

the knock on the door is punctual, and he spies the janitor waiting for him to head out. he nods at the wall, unplugging his phone from the desktop and sliding it into his pocket, grabbing the hoodie he threw on the floor and tying it around his waist. his backpack goes on his shoulder, his bottle in his hand. the janitor opens the door for him and wishes him a safe trip home, and he nods, jogging out of the school a little faster.

when he almost exits, his phone begins to ring. he doesn’t bother glancing at the id; there’s a reason why he’s set a different ringtone just for him. he slides his thumb against the screen, facetime popping up immediately as jimin’s features soon followed. his end of the screen only shows pitch black.

“kookie!” jimin all but yells, and jungkook sighs, knowing he’s drunk. the elder has been getting drunk much more often these days; he wonders if it’s a college thing. “kookie, hyungie can’t see you.”

“i’m walking, hyungnim,” jungkook explains, throwing on his hoodie. it’s a bit chilly despite the body heat he’s built up, but at least it’s getting warmer. summer’s about to come, which means soon, jungkook has to send in his own applications, too. “don’t worry, i’m safe.”

jimin giggles. “don’t get kidnapped, jungkookie! hyung will miss you.”

jungkook’s stomach squeezes. “i’ll miss you too, hyung.”

jimin doesn’t say anything for a while; a stranger comes to block the screen, and jungkook just watches, listening to the elder chatter about winning a competition with a solo performance. the stranger—a man with orange hair—thanks jimin with a bright smile, and then they’re hugging, jimin’s solo cup touching the man’s lips.

jungkook feels awkward watching them, as though he’s intruding on an intimate moment. it’s now an ongoing routine; jimin would drunkenly call him during a party, and he’d just drag jungkook around as though he were there. they’d talk only to be interrupted by another guest, and then jungkook has to say goodbye, having either arrived home or arrived at the studio, either way feeling out of place. jimin would smile then and wave goodbye, promising they’d talk some other time.

they don’t. it’s getting harder to keep in touch, with jungkook’s rigorous practices and jimin’s demanding coursework. they try their best, and jimin apologises with at least twenty messages when he’d have to cancel. younger jungkook would throw a tantrum and blame jimin for neglecting him, but older jungkook understands. responsibilities are just a part of life.

“oh!” jimin says suddenly as the orange-haired man leaves, moving to another room; this one looks like the kitchen, littered with red plastic solo cups and half-empty cans of beer. “have i introduced you to my platonic soulmate?”

jungkook’s heart stops. “platonic soulmate?”

“yeah! taetae, come here!” someone groans in the background, more in annoyance than pain, and jimin giggles, almost toppling backwards into the counter. “i think he’s about to be busy. but you should still meet him! i’ll introduce you!”

“platonic soulmate?” he repeats, and suddenly he can’t think anymore, can’t breathe because if he can’t even be that, then, well, what is he?

a pang of betrayal rings through him, and he leans against the bike rack, dizzy. in his head, jimin’s always been his best friend. jimin’s always been irreplaceable, special. he never considered the idea that jimin might not think the same of him.

he swallows, trying to remove the lump in his throat. on the screen, jimin’s laughing again, arm looped around someone’s shoulders—taehyung, he figures, and he wants to cry. he chokes out jimin’s name and forces a smile. “i’m gonna bike home now, so gotta hang up.”

jimin has the decency to look upset. “can’t you stay longer?”

“sorry, hyung,” jungkook apologises, then presses the end call button before jimin can reply. he takes a big gulp of air before unchaining his bike and mounting it, then pedals home with tears pricking his eyes.

the year doesn’t get any better. slowly, the plans he’s built up crumbles into fine dust as he stands in front of his dance instructor, his word stinging in his ears. his teacher tells him he’s a good student, but his dance isn’t k-arts worthy. he isn’t park jimin, and he returns home with angry tears and the sudden feeling of worthlessness; his best isn’t enough, and he grits his teeth as he punches his bathroom mirror, feeling the glass crack against his fist. fumbling into his room, he pulls out the wads of cash he’s been saving up for college and counts the amount of money he’ll need to pick up art classes again.

his mother cries when he starts coming home at four, but he only smiles, kisses her cheek, and locks himself away.

he begins to build a portfolio to submit halfway through his second year.

in september of his third year, he submits the necessary documents.

the mailman carries his art in a folder in november, all the way to seoul.

jimin visits him in february, two days before jihyun’s graduation. he couldn’t make it to jungkook’s (he had an exam that day), but jungkook reassures him it’s okay. at least his dad took off from work again.

“i got you something,” jimin says, taking jungkook’s hand. they’re seated on jungkook’s bed, legs crossed and arms pressed together, eyes fixed on jimin’s fingers as they pry jungkook’s apart. jungkook watches as jimin places a small silver bracelet in his hand, and his eyes widen in surprise.

jimin blushes. “congratulations on graduating, jungkook-ah.”

he pulls jimin into a hug, shocking the elder; it’s been a while since they’ve had any form of close physical contact. “is this why you didn’t come last winter? or summer?”

“yeah,” jimin admits. jungkook feels his smile against his cheek. “i was working and saving up for that. i’m sorry i missed your graduation.”

he pulls away, shaking his head. “you’re here now. that’s all that matters.”

jimin smiles. his eyes are mischievous. “so. you never told me which school you got into.”

jungkook’s stomach lurches. “about that, hyung… i’m sorry. i didn’t want to disappoint you.”

the smile falls. jimin is stunned. “you—what?”

“i’m sorry i got into k-arts as an art major.”

a pause, and then two. then—

“what the fuck—jeon jungkook, you gave me a fucking heart attack—fuck, don’t scare me like that, you piece of shit—”

jungkook laughs, letting jimin hit him over and over again until the elder’s calmed down. he then waits for a second, letting the words sink in, and suddenly jimin’s tackling him into a hug, tears actually falling from his eyes. jungkook holds him, laughter bubbling out of his throat.

“i’ve missed you too, hyung.”

the first thing jimin does when jungkook finally starts college is take him to a party.

the bass pumps through his veins like an angry drum, the red solo cup in his hand feeling foreign. jimin holds his hand as he drags him through the small apartment, introducing him to so many people he suddenly feels queasy.

it gets a little easier, though, when jimin finally pulls him into the kitchen where five other guys are busy talking, their laughter easily mixing in with the techno of the dj. jimin introduces them as his closest friends; he tells them jungkook’s his baby brother from home.

“the blood one?” the tall one asks, and jimin shakes his head, patting jungkook’s hair.

“the adopted.”

jungkook coughs. “uh, it’s nice to meet you.”

he learns their names one by one. there’s jung hoseok, a dance major and jimin’s sunbae, the one who won a solo competition two years back. he doesn’t have orange hair anymore, but jungkook realises he recognises his voice from that one video call.

the guy next to him is kim namjoon, music composition major and the one who voiced the question about blood. then there’s kim seokjin, a graduate acting student who befriended namjoon years ago and is now pretty much stuck with him. jungkook watches them banter like old friends, and the sight tugs at his heartstrings; he wonders if that’s what everyone sees when they see him and jimin.

kim taehyung is the person he dreads to meet, but finds that he likes him most. like jungkook, he’s a fine arts major two years his senior and has been a painter for most of his life. he introduces himself as jimin’s platonic soulmate, and the words churn at jungkook’s stomach again. he forces a smile, though, and shakes taehyung’s hand firmly.

“and this,” jimin begins, gesturing to the shortest man out of the five. jungkook watches as jimin releases his hand and intertwines his fingers with the mystery man’s. “this is my boyfriend. min yoongi.”

jungkook’s heartbeat stops. “oh.”

min yoongi nods. “nice to meet you, kid.”

jungkook swallows. “i—where’s the bathroom?”

“what’s wrong?” taehyung asks, suddenly frowning, and then the smile is slipping off jimin’s face, concern and hurt spreading over his features as though he’s been slapped. jungkook wants to erase all that, wants to assure him that no, he’s okay with jimin liking boys because he’s also really gay, but he can’t because the world is spinning, and he feels nauseous, and he just wants to go home.

“dizzy,” he manages, choking out the words as he stumbles backwards into the kitchen counter. the sorrow is erased from jimin’s face and is replaced with immense fear, arm darting outwards as though to catch him.

“whoa, there, kookie,” jimin mumbles, easing him upright. “are you okay? have you ever drunk before?”

he shakes his head—that isn’t really the problem, that isn’t why he’s sick, that’s not why he’s upset—

“we should get him home,” he hears namjoon suggests, and jungkook closes his eyes, trying to ease his breathing.

he feels long fingers on his wrist. “hey, kid, breathe.”

his eyes snap open, and the first thing he sees is yoogi’s face, gentle and concerned as jimin clings onto him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. jungkook stands and shoves the couple out of the way, runs out the kitchen, and storms into the night.

he avoids jimin for a full week.

there’s fear and anger gripping at his lungs. every time he crosses paths with one of jimin’s friends, he’s quick to turn the other way and dart for the nearest bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as images of jimin smiling at yoongi and yoongi smiling at jimin flood every corner of his mind.

the imagery becomes so vivid it suddenly infiltrates his dreams, scenes of jimin kissing yoongi plaguing his sleep and causing him to wake up in sobs. he hugs chimchim to his chest, crying into its soft fur, and wonders where did he ever go wrong.

because jimin isn’t into girls. he’s into girls and guys, which means jungkook had a chance all along.

but min yoongi stole that from his fingertips, pulling it far beyond his reach, and suddenly, jungkook hates every fibre of the man’s being because he is everything jungkook will never be.

he tries to avoid him for an extra week, but jimin caught onto him quickly; he intercepts his path to class on monday, demanding to know the reason jungkook’s disappeared from his life. jungkook stares at the ground, trying to ignore the boiling rage he has for the man next to jimin, and closes his eyes, mumbling the first excuse that crosses his head.

“i didn’t want you to be disappointed,” he lies, and he fiddles with his backpack, teeth biting down onto his bottom lip. “it was my first college party, and i ruined the night.”

jimin’s features soften, buying into the lie immediately, and jungkook feels guilty for a split second, the hatred suddenly aimed at himself for even thinking of fooling jimin.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” jimin reassures him, smiling gently at him. “if anything, i’m just glad you’re okay now.”

jungkook nods, excusing himself to class. he feels jimin and yoongi watch him as he enters the arts building, fingers curling tighter around the straps of his bag.

okay, jungkook thinks, is far from where he is.

despite his initial intolerance, taehyung and jungkook become attached at the hip. jimin’s watching them with a pout as they wrestle on taehyung’s bed, the elder of the two holding the paintbrush far from jungkook’s grip. it’s become a thing, where taehyung helps jungkook with his projects only to be the biggest obstacle he faces in completing the assignment; jungkook’s had his paintbrush stolen too many times he’s beginning to run out.

“hyung!” he cries, jumping on top of taehyung, and the older art major heaves, the sudden muscle weight forcing his fists open, paintbrush falling to the ground. jungkook exclaims triumphantly as he climbs off the bed to retrieve it, retreating to the corner of the room where taehyung’s easel stands next to a wide assortment of oil paints.

jungkook hates dealing with this particular medium; growing up, he’s always been more fond of watercolours and pencils. but his professor asked them to step out of their comfort zone and attempt to mimic a style they’ve developed over the years using something they’re unfamiliar with, and jungkook’s stuck trying to recreate the ripples of watercolours using oil paints.

luckily, taehyung is a master at the paints, and jungkook’s been spending more and more time at his dingy little apartment than his own dorm room. hanging out with taehyung, though, means facing jimin everyday, and even though he is constantly reminded of the elder’s relationship, jungkook decides his rivalry with the enemy isn’t worth breaking a lifetime of friendship.

jimin whines from his seat at taehyung’s desk. he’s supposed to be working on a paper for his dance theory class, but he’s been distracted by his phone for the past ten minutes. taehyung glances at jungkook’s painting before turning his gaze on his best friend, lying on his stomach with elbows propped against the soft mattress. “what’s up?”

“it’s yoongi-hyung,” jimin explains. “he keeps sending me selcas of him at the studio, and it’s really distracting.”

“tell him to stop, then,” jungkook mumbles, and taehyung looks at him with eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinting suspiciously. jungkook makes a mental note to swallow any salt.

“uh, no? his selcas are really hot, not gonna lie, but, like—i’m trying to do dance theory, you know?” jimin groans. “and he won’t stop talking about this new song he’s producing, but he’s not gonna show me. like, how is that fair?”

taehyung shrugs. “i mean, at least he’s shown you, like, his past three songs while they’re in development. he’s never let me hear them before they’re done, and i’m, like, what jungkook is to you.”

“what am i to jimin-hyung?” jungkook asks curiously, looking away from his paints. he rubs his hands against the ratty t-shirt he’s wearing and wipes sweat off his brow. taehyung needs to get his air conditioner fixed.

“like, you know, a childhood friend that he can never let go of because he’s too in love with him,” taehyung comments, and jungkook stares at him unblinkingly.

jimin snorts. “i’m not in love with jungkook, taetae. he’s my cute little brother.”

“you don’t talk about jihyun the way you talk about jungkook,” taehyung argues. jimin frowns, hating how he’s thrown under the bus. meanwhile, jungkook listens with open ears. taehyung turns to him. “literally, every time i asked about you, he would get this sparkle in his eye and talk about you for, like, seven hours straight.”

“bullshit,” jimin calls, throwing an eraser at taehyung. his phone rings then, and whatever irritation he had disappears from his face. a bright smile and a blush blooms across his cheeks, and jungkook already knows who’s on the other end of the call. still, jimin excuses himself, leaving the room, the soft mumble of a “hey, hyung” trailing after him.

jungkook stares at the doorway and imagines jimin’s figure. he wonders if jimin ever left the room like that when he used to call him from busan, soft voice fondly calling out for him as his friends’ voices die behind him. but then he remembers sober calls were rare and that jimin mostly facetimed him while shit drunk, and he feels angry at himself for not being able to mean as much as a certain boyfriend.

taehyung plays some jazz, and jungkook stares at his painting, suddenly losing interest.

“hey, hyung?” he calls, and taehyung hums, directing his gaze towards the young painter. jungkook shifts in his seat and dips his brush in red. “what’s yoongi-ssi like?”

“yoongi-ssi?” taehyung muses, but doesn’t ask. he leans against the headboard of his bed. “yoongi-hyung is pretty much the definition of salt, i guess. but like a salty teddy bear, you know? he seems like the type of guy who’d cuss at you first thing in the morning—which, granted, is actually true—but he’s a huge softie on the inside. really cares for his friends, you know?”

“hm,” jungkook agrees, though he can’t really confirm taehyung’s description. he barely interacts with the older man, instead opting to hate on him from afar. he pauses for a second, gathering courage to ask the next question. “what do you mean by you’re what i am to jimin-hyung?”

taehyung clicks his tongue. “ah. well, i’ve known yoongi-hyung since high school. sure, that’s, like, less than how long you’ve known jimin, but i still know him pretty well. it’s a little weird, though, since we’re two years apart, so we only got to attend the same school together for a year before he graduated. well, without counting k-arts, you know?”

jungkook nods his head. that scenario sounds familiar. “so how’d you get to know him?”

“he seemed scary,” taehyung explains. “but my teacher really wanted us to pair up for a music thing—hyung plays the piano, and i played the sax, so it would’ve been an interesting collaboration. yoongi-hyung flat out rejected the idea, though, and i had to convince him to play. but then i got sick with the flu three days before the show, and well, we never got to perform.”

“did you stay in touch after that, then?”

taehyung hums. “yoongi-hyung would always text me and call me. he’s the one who made me apply to k-arts. he accidentally saw my paintings once, and then told me to apply. i refused at first because my parents wanted me to become an engineer or something, but hyung knew i would be miserable. so he applied for me. and then i got in.”

jungkook blinks. his stomach churns. “he sounds nice.”

“he is,” taehyung agrees. “he’s my best friend. the way jimin’s yours.”

jungkook doesn’t tell him he’s not too sure about that anymore.

taehyung smiles sadly. “sorry for introducing myself as his platonic soulmate, by the way. it was an inside joke. didn’t think you’d be offended.”

jungkook shakes his head. “it’s fine.”

“no, jimin kind of told me about your separation anxiety.” taehyung changes the song to “fly me to the moon.” “i shouldn’t have made you feel like you’re replaceable, jungkook.”

he doesn’t reply, just hums in a way that either says yes or no, and returns his focus on his painting. he feels taehyung watching him as he strokes the canvas with his brush, but the older painter doesn’t say anything more. jungkook’s grateful, and taehyung sings along to the song, drowning out his worries.

jimin comes back five minutes later to retrieve his things, yoongi standing in the doorway.

jungkook doesn’t say goodbye.

he decides to pick up an elective his second semester, just for the sake of raising his grade. he didn’t do too well on his art history final, the paper he drafted earning him a b in the class. it isn’t too bad of a grade, namjoon promised him, but jungkook’s recently applied for a scholarship. he can’t be less than exemplary.

he walks into his music composition class, feeling intimidated by the aura of the music students in the room. as far as he knows, he and this drama kid are the only non-majors taking the class, and the fact daunts him. what if his work pales in comparison?

the professor walks in with a bright smile, greeting them all. this class, unlike most composition classes, focuses more on music production rather than actual score composition, which makes the overall goal a little easier. there’s less music theory involved and dead composers to name. jungkook’s relieved; he’s never even heard of bach.

they go through the syllabus pretty quickly, the professor breaking down the percentages of the grades and what’s expected of the students. jungkook listens attentively, taking notes with his twelve-colour pen in the margins. it isn’t until they reach the projects section that his stomach drops.

“you’ll be working with an upperclassman,” the professor says, smiling proudly. “together you’ll work on a song, which will be played on the university’s radio channel. if you look at the next page, you’ll see that i’ve already assigned you a partner. i hope you’ll enjoy working with them the next few months.”

jungkook doesn’t want to turn the page; he feels dread crawling up his skin. still, he has to find out who his mentor is, and so his fingers catch the corner of the syllabus, flipping it over to reveal a long list of names. he travels down the table and locates his name beneath another jeon and traces the row across to find his mentor.

his stomach drops to the ground.

he’s fucking paired up with min yoongi.

“so kid,” yoongi begins, and jungkook resists the urge to glare at the older male. yoongi is wearing a flannel shirt and ripped skinny jeans, mint hair hidden beneath a dark grey beanie. jungkook hates how the older looks so much cooler in comparison to his white t-shirt and timberlands. he really needs a bigger wardrobe. “what kinda style do you have in mind?”

jungkook shrugs, looking at the keys of the recording booth. he’s never seen one in person, and the sight of the microphone fascinates him.

yoongi sighs. “hey. you’re not gonna get a good grade if you’re like this.”

he shrugs again, looking at the keys on the 8-bit keyboard. he wonders if jimin spends his afternoons here, messing around with the equipment while yoongi works. or maybe, he messes around with yoongi. the thought doesn’t help jungkook feel better around the man.

“i don’t particularly care,” he mumbles. he knows his attitude is ticking off the comp major, and surely enough, yoongi sighs, stands up, and packs his things.

the glare he receives doesn’t phase him. “listen, kid. if you’re just gonna waste my time, don’t bother meeting up with me. talk to me when you’re serious.”

he leaves without jungkook’s response, and jungkook thinks it’s better this way. he brings his legs to his knees as he stares at the 8-bit keyboard, the pain throbbing freshly in his chest. he purses his lips, trying to breathe.

instead he sees jimin against the workstation, yoongi pressing hot kisses against his collarbones, jungkook’s name never falling from the dancer’s lips.

he leaves the studio as though it was poison.

“yoongi-hyung tells me you’ve been a brat,” hoseok says as he leans over the kitchen island. he’s supposed to meet his mentor today to discuss more genre choices now that the professor’s asking for a report, but he feigns illness and crashes seokjin’s place instead.

hoseok was in the living room when he arrived, chewing through beef jerky and watching old reruns of friends while namjoon sat on the floor. seokjin ushered him to the kitchen to help prepare lunch. it wasn’t long until hoseok claimed his feet were dead, and namjoon turned the tv off, the two of them making their way to the kitchen to help. well, hoseok is sort of helping. namjoon’s banned from touching a single thing.

“aren’t you supposed to meet with him right now?” namjoon asks, stealing a sausage off the tray. seokjin slaps his hand, and namjoon drops the food immediately.

jungkook shrugs. “i didn’t feel like it.”

seokjin scoffs. “kid, you can’t just not show up when you don’t feel like it. that’s not how life works.”

“i know,” jungkook grumbles. he hates having this conversation; jimin’s lectured him fifteen million times in the past month. “but what’s the point in meeting if i don’t have any ideas?”

“that’s why you meet.” hoseok pokes his forehead. “so you can get something into that pretty little head of yours.”

jungkook snorts. “i doubt it. it’s been pretty empty for the past month or so.”

namjoon sighs. “okay, so what’s the block here? school? friends? family?”

jungkook pauses. he wonders if he should voice his animosity towards yoongi; it’s unreasonable, he knows, but he can’t help it. not when he’s been in love with jimin for so long.

“friends,” he decides carefully, drawling the word slowly on his tongue.

seokjin frowns. “you have a problem with us?”

“i never said it was you.”

“jungkook,” seokjin says, eyes dead serious. for a moment, he reminds jungkook of yoongi. “we’re your only friends.”

jungkook glares. “okay, not true. i have my roommate.”

“so you have one more friend,” hoseok comments. he dips a carrot stick into some mayo, and namjoon scrunches his nose. “doesn’t mean we’re completely ruled out.”

“it’s not you,” jungkook promises. it’s the truth; hoseok, namjoon and seokjin are not the problem. jimin and yoongi are. “it’s… someone else.”

namjoon glances at hoseok, who glances at seokjin. jungkook stares at the eldest, silently asking for a relay of the silent conversation. he doesn’t get it.

“have you thought about doing a ballad?” namjoon asks, and jungkook turns to look at him again, shaking his head. namjoon smiles. “i think it’s the best genre to convey whatever you’re feeling right now. you look kinda sad.”

“jungkook always look sad,” hoseok notes, and jungkook frowns. hoseok laughs. “you need to stop listening to depressing music.”

“or he could listen to even more depressing music,” seokjin suggests. he’s finishing up the fried rice on the stove, shoving colourful vegetables into the mix. “it’ll probably help with the ballad, after all.”

jungkook blinks. “i—i’ll give it a try.”

namjoon smiles. “cool. tell yoongi-hyung i said hi.”

he finally schedules a meeting two weeks after his lunch at seokjin’s. yoongi’s a little irritated when jungkook walks in ten minutes late, and the younger suddenly feels guilt for burdening the elder like this. while jungkook’s been acting immature, yoongi’s worked hard to ensure he’d get a decent grade, but jungkook’s refusal to cooperate is making things hard. so he apologises before yoongi can even speak, bowing a full ninety degrees.

“sorry, hyungnim,” he mumbles. the honorific is strange to hear; the only people he refers to as hyungnim are usually jimin and taehyung. “i won’t be late again.”

“sit,” yoongi commands, and jungkook complies, sliding onto the couch away from the workstation. yoongi clicks his tongue. “namjoon told me you figured out a genre.”

jungkook nods slowly. “i, uh, was thinking a ballad?”

“a ballad,” yoongi repeats, leaning back. he’s frowning in deep thought, fingers drumming against the armrest of the office chair. he nods. “i could work with that.”

“yeah?”

yoongi hums. “it’s not my forte, but i’d be happy to pull a few strings. maybe i can convince the orchestra to record a loop or something.”

jungkook nods and shifts his gaze to the ground.

yoongi sighs. he sets his pen down. “jungkook-ah, look at me.”

he traces the cracks on the floor and counts how many pictures he can find using the ambiguous pattern on the rug.

“jungkook,” yoongi repeats again, voice firm and commanding, and jungkook has no choice but to look up, meeting yoongi’s eyes with fear. he expects to see the older man filled with anger, but instead what he finds is exhaustion. “i know why you’re uncomfortable with me.”

jungkook blinks.

“you don’t like the fact i’m dating jimin,” yoongi says slowly, spelling the words one by one. jungkook tries not to react, but he knows his breathing is getting ragged; his heartbeat is increasing way too fast. he’s been caught. “i get it. he’s your hyung. you’re close to him. me dating him is weird.”

jungkook swallows. maybe he’s safe.

“and you’re in love with him,” yoongi finishes, and jungkook wants to run, wants the floor to swallow him up and let him die.

he doesn’t respond to yoongi’s accusation—if it is one, anyways. he suddenly wonders how yoongi must feel about this arrangement, if he felt angry and annoyed that he has to help the boy jimin dotes on with a class project. the boy who is in love with his boyfriend.

jungkook swallows and waits for yoongi to call him shit.

“i’m sorry,” is what yoongi says instead, and jungkook blinks, watching as pity traces yoongi’s irises. he hates it. “i didn’t know.”

“not your fault,” jungkook growls a little harsher than he means to. his fists are clenched at his side.

yoongi doesn’t say anything, and the tension between them is thick. on the one hand, jungkook just wants to crawl into a ball and cry, let the pain he’s been trying to ignore consume him until it flushes out of his system and leaves him numb. on the other hand, he wants to scream at his mentor, accuse him of theft and spit on him until the elder is left bleeding and raw. until he feels every ounce of pain jungkook’s suffered through the past two years.

the silence breaks when yoongi turns around in his chair, fiddling with a couple of keys. a few notes play, unfinished and broken, and yoongi turns to look at jungkook expectantly. “you can write the song about him, you know.”

jungkook stares blankly at him.

“channel your emotions into the song,” yoongi suggests, putting on a sad smile. “let him know how much you’ve loved him all this time.”

“sure,” jungkook mumbles. he gathers his things. he wants to go home.

yoongi doesn’t stop him when he closes the studio door behind him.

he doesn’t work with yoongi in the studio together; instead, he visits the recording booth alone and fiddles with the equipment, and then sends whatever progress he makes that day to the elder via email. he gets responses in the form of a thumbs-up emoji and a couple of suggestions, most of which he actually does take because yoongi actually knows what he’s doing, while jungkook busies himself with playing pretend.

the final end product isn’t exactly a ballad; they both decide it’s more of a pop song than anything. he manages to get namjoon and hoseok to rap a verse each while yoongi handles the bridge, and jungkook sings the rest, making sure each syllable portrays all the emotions swirling inside of him in the past few years.

before submitting the result, yoongi demands he checks it to ensure jungkook’s a. he sends the file over as an attachment to an email, and yoongi replies an hour later, claiming to have listened to it at least three times before handing jungkook his seal of approval. jungkook sighs with relief when he reads the response, pulling open a new tab to submit the product to the class’s dropbox, but stops when another email from yoongi pops up in his notifications.

he clicks it opens and freezes.

play this to him, is what it reads, and jungkook wonders why the hell yoongi would suggest that. it’s weird enough that the elder is helping jungkook write a love song—a confession song, really—to his own boyfriend. but to encourage him to actually use it to confess? yoongi must be out of his mind.

are you crazy? he replies back, frowning at the screen. what pops up instead is a kakaotalk message, and he switches from chrome to the messenger app to read yoongi’s reply.

no.

jungkook sighs. he begins typing a response, but yoongi cuts him off again.

seriously, kook-ah. he deserves to know.

he pauses, staring at the message and reading it again and again. on the one hand, yoongi’s right; jimin deserves to know how much jungkook loves him, even if he can never have the privilege of being loved back. but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with jimin; he’d rather live in the shadows of the sun than have to live under a sky without the star.

i’ll try, he replies instead. yoongi doesn’t answer then, and jungkook submits the file before closing his laptop and packing his backpack for class.

jimin stands in front of him, eyes tired and heavy with eyebags. he hasn’t seen jimin much these days; at first he was busy avoiding yoongi, which meant avoiding the elder too, and then he became too wrapped up in finishing the song that he simply forgot to say hi. still, the image of jimin looking less than perfect worries him, and jungkook immediately pulls him into a hug, watching as jimin breaks down in his arms.

“yoongi-hyung broke up with me,” jimin finally explains through his sobs, and jungkook stares at the ground, feeling angry at the elder all of a sudden.

“that fucking bitch—should i beat him up, hyung?”

jimin laughs, shaking his head. “it’s—it’s fine. it’s just—i really loved him, you know?”

jungkook’s stomach clenches. he knows.

“i’m sorry, hyung,” is what he says instead.

jimin just shakes his head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

jungkook has everything to be sorry for.

“i haven’t seen you in a while,” jimin says, pulling away and shifting the conversation. he doesn’t invite jungkook into the apartment he shares with yoongi; he wonders where jimin will go now that they’ve broken up. “have you been avoiding me again?”

“no,” jungkook answers honestly, because he really hasn’t. he bites his lip. “i—i have something for you, hyung.”

jimin looks up at him with quizzical eyes.

he pulls out the usb stick from inside his back pocket and pries jimin’s fingers open as he places it in his palm. jimin looks up in confusion, trying to read his face, but jungkook’s too busy trying to hide his tears to send a silent reply back.

it’s time for his goodbye.

“please listen to it after i leave,” jungkook whispers, and suddenly he recalls eunbi behind the school, voice barely louder than a cricket’s song. he understands what she must’ve felt then—the fear of rejection is crippling, and he wants nothing more than to get the moment over with. he sucks in another breath. “i hope you like it, hyung.”

he turns to leave without waiting for a reply. he feels jimin’s stare on his back all the way to the end of the hallway before he disappears into the elevator and into the night.

you broke up with jimin-hyung.

yeah.

he loved you.

i know. i did too.

then why?

because he deserves to be happy. and he can’t be happy if i’m with him.

what do you mean?

he’s in love with you, jungkook-ah. more than he’s ever loved me.

jimin moves out of yoongi’s apartment a week after the breakup.

jungkook doesn’t hear anything from him.

it isn’t until a month after he’s submitted his song that jimin finally responds. jungkook’s hanging out at yoongi’s apartment during that time, busy helping the elder figure out the b-part to his newest track when his phone chimes with a message, pulling jungkook away from his spot next to yoongi and towards his backpack that he’s left on the couch. he opens the front zipper and fishes out his phone, freezing when he reads the name across the screen.

“who is it?” yoongi asks from his desk, and jungkook hesitates, wondering if it’s okay to say his name.

in the end, he does. his voice is soft. “jimin-hyung.”

yoongi’s fingers stop tapping at keyboard.

jungkook holds his breath.

“go to him, kid.” yoongi’s voice is soft. he turns, and there’s a smile on his face, fond eyes gazing at jungkook encouragingly. it leaves jungkook breathless every time he sees him brave. “i’ll finish up here.”

“you sure, hyung?”

“yeah. now hurry up before i kick your ass out.”

jungkook knocks on taehyung’s door twice. he’s been avoiding the place since jimin’s moved back in, too afraid to face his best friend in case of rejection. he holds his breath and counts to ten before ringing the doorbell, which elicits a “hold on!” before the door is unlocked.

taehyung’s standing on the other side in nothing but a bathrobe.

he grins. “jungkookie! my favourite minion. what’s up?”

“is jimin-hyung home?” he asks, ignoring taehyung’s jab, and the excitement wears off taehyung’s face, melting into a soft look.

taehyung nods. “yeah. he’s in his room.”

“thank you,” he whispers, and taehyung just grins as he steps aside, saying something about how he’ll be in the kitchen cooking up lunch. knowing him, though, jungkook bets it’s going to be ramen. he doesn’t mind.

jimin’s door—which once led to a spare bedroom jungkook used to crash in on all-nighters—is closed. he pauses in front of it, traces the chipped paint with his finger, and slowly counts to ten. he gulps as he softly knocks, closing his eyes and waits for jimin to respond.

the door opens, and he’s met with a face full of jimin with tear streaks and bed hair and flushed, red cheeks.

jungkook thinks he looks absolutely beautiful.

“hyung,” he breathes, but he doesn’t get to say much after that because he’s being pulled into the room, door slamming close behind him, jimin’s smaller body frame clinging tightly onto his. jimin sobs into his shirt as incoherent noises are muffled by his chest, and jungkook freezes, unsure what to do. for once, he doesn’t wrap his arms around jimin, and instead lets the older cry it out.

“i’m sorry,” jimin breathes out once he’s finally calm enough. he pulls away, the tears still flowing down his face. jungkook watches him, lips pursed, waiting for the rest of the apology to come out. “i never knew.”

“of course you didn’t,” jungkook whispers. “i hid it so well.”

“i’m an asshole,” jimin continues, wiping at his eyes. “i fucking drunk called you and treated you like you were replaceable even though you’re not, and i took you for granted and i—i keep hurting you, jungkook, hyung’s sorry, hyung’s so, so sorry—”

jungkook watches jimin cry as he sinks into his bed, knees drawn to his chest as another rumble of sobs breaks through his dam. he stands there, hands hanging uselessly by his side, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks this is wrong. jimin’s not happy. he’s supposed to be happy.

“hyung—” jungkook starts, but where does he end? he wants to comfort him but he doesn’t know how; the months he’s spent hating jimin’s relationship with yoongi has made him a stranger.

“i don’t deserve you,” jimin whispers when jungkook doesn’t continue. his fingers are shaking against his calves. “you’re—you’re the sweetest person on earth, jungkookie. i don’t fucking deserve you.”

“i—” his voice falls again. what is there to say? he takes a deep breath, remembers the late night conversations he’s had with yoongi recently. jungkook purses his lips. “you’re right. you don’t.”

jimin sobs again at that, and jungkook sighs, gathering jimin in his arms as he rocks them back and forth, peppering the elder’s forehead with kisses and hushed words.

“you were kind of an ass,” jungkook admits, and he feels tears brimming his eyes, trying to escape the corners and onto his cheeks. instead, he just buries his nose in jimin’s hair, breathing in his scent. it’s still vanilla. “you fucking ignored me, hyung—while i was busy working my ass off so i could join you, you called me like it’s a joke. i don’t enjoy watching you drunk, hyung. it’s pointless when you’re drunk.

“and then when i got here,” jungkook continues, and he breathes deep through his nose, trying to contain the tears that carry all the pain and anger he’s ever felt. “when i got here you practically dismissed me. i felt replaced; taehyung-hyung’s suddenly your best friend, and then it was like a stab to the heart when i found out you were dating yoongi-hyung. like, did i even matter anymore?”

“of course, jungkookie. you always—”

“but i didn’t want to hurt you,” jungkook whispers. “i’m too fucking selfless, yoongi-hyung says, because i keep beating up my own heart for the sake of yours, and you’re not even happy. so yeah, hyung, you’re right. you don’t deserve me. i’m better than that.”

jimin sniffles. “i know, kookie. hyung—”

“is sorry,” jungkook finishes, voice soft. he’s heard that phrase so many times over the course of his twenty years. anyone would’ve given up by now. but not him. “i know. i forgive you.”

“i don’t deserve it.”

“you don’t,” jungkook agrees. namjoon’s voice rings in the back of his mind. “but when you love someone, you’ll forgive them again and again despite their flaws.”

jimin’s silent, and then he’s pulling away, looking at jungkook in confusion. “kookie?”

“i’m in love with you, hyung, in case you couldn’t tell from the song i wrote you,” he jokes, running a hand softly through jimin’s hair. he finds himself staring at the mole on his forehead, the one jihyun hates because jungkook has an identical one on his forehead, too. “you don’t—you don’t have to return it. i just thought you should know.”

jimin doesn’t say anything.

jungkook smiles. he kisses jimin’s forehead. “please don’t cry anymore, jiminnie-hyung.”

“kookie,” jimin whispers, and jungkook hums, letting him know he’s listening. jimin takes a deep breath. “lost my kookie.”

jungkook blinks. “what do you mean—”

he cuts himself off, and he suddenly recalls nine-year-old jimin retelling the story of how they met again and again, seven-year-old jungkook clinging onto every word.

“you started crying when you saw me,” jimin had said then, giggling behind his palm. “even when i promised i wasn’t a monster, you still wouldn’t cry.”

“what made me stop?” jungkook asked. most of the story is probably made up of lies, imagined events nine-year-old jimin created to fill up the spaces he didn’t remember. but there was one part that jimin always swore was true, saying that if they pulled up the store’s security cameras, they’d be able to hear him say it for sure.

jimin smiled, patting jungkook’s head. “i asked you if you were lost. and you said, ‘lost my mommy.’ it was the cutest thing in the world.”

jimin hugs jungkook tighter.

jungkook smiles. “i’m right here, hyungie. kookie’s right here.”

jungkook moves in with taehyung and jimin his second year. without a discussion, jimin bought another twin bed that he shoves into his room; he declares he’s placed a claim on jungkook, and the younger is forced to live with him until he moves out. taehyung just rolls his eyes, telling jimin to call him when he stops being ridiculous. jungkook laughs, but in all honesty, he doesn’t mind.

instead of having the beds separate from each other, though, jimin’s resorted to pressing them together until they’re right next to each other. it’s how they fall asleep, lying side by side, jungkook’s arms wrapped around jimin’s waist with his nose buried in vanilla, while jimin drowns in one of jungkook’s shirts.

after a while, taehyung decides it’s getting grossly domestic and moves himself into hoseok’s apartment despite the dancer’s protest. jimin offers to move jungkook’s stuff to taehyung’s old room, but jungkook shakes his head.

“i like it better here with you, hyung.”

the extra bedroom becomes jungkook’s art-and-music studio that he calls the golden closet; one side is covered with half-finished paintings and easels, while the other holds a desk and some instruments, presents from one min yoongi and kim namjoon. the two comp majors started hanging out in their apartment more than they do in their own, practically living in jungkook’s golden closet. at first, jungkook thought it might be awkward on jimin’s part, but jimin just scoffs and threatens to make them pay rent if they stayed another night.

needless to say, namjoon stops sleeping over. yoongi, though, is a different story.

“hyung,” jimin says, glaring at the now-blond male. “seriously. leave.”

yoongi shrugs, sliding on his headphones. “don’t worry, jiminnie. these headphones will block out your sexy time.”

“hyungnim!” jungkook whines, and jimin blushes red, yanking the headphones off yoongi’s head before tossing him outside.

all in all, the apartment feels like home.

“hey, kookie?” jimin whispers, and jungkook groans, nuzzling jimin’s hair. it’s late at night, and jungkook’s drifting in between sleep and awake.

jimin turns in his arms. he pokes his arm. “kookie.”

“hyung,” he whines, using a hand to blindly look for jimin’s face. he palms the whole thing, the heel pressed against his mouth. “’m trying to sleep.”

“moogie.”

jungkook sighs. he opens his eyes and removes his hand. “yes, hyung?”

jimin smiles. “love you.”

jungkook freezes. he blinks, then suddenly he’s sitting up, eyes trained on jimin in disbelief. “repeat what you just said.”

jimin giggles from where he’s lying on the bed, he reaches up, hand rubbing jungkook’s bicep soothingly. “love you, kookie.”

“oh my god,” jungkook mumbles in awe. his eyes are wide. “oh my god, jimin-hyung just said he loves me. oh my god, what the fuck.”

jimin laughs. “why are you like this?”

“you just said you love me,” jungkook repeats, ignoring his question. “wait, this is real right? i didn’t accidentally fall asleep? you did return my confession just now, right?”

“oh my god, go back to sleep, you dork.”

“hyung,” jungkook says, pulling jimin up. “this is a life or death situation. you gotta prove i’m not dreaming.”

jimin groans. “oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“like, if this is a dream, i’m gonna be so fucking pissed. oh my god, what if my entire life is a dream? what if i’m actually, like, fucking three and i’m still in the stupid grocery store and my life just flashed across my eyes and this is it—”

the words die on his tongue, swallowed by another mouth, and jungkook’s eyes widen even further when he realises that—holy fucking shit, he’s kissing jimin.

the kiss is soft, jimin’s lips slightly chapped, but that’s to be expected with the winter season. he moves slowly against jungkook, a hand firmly holding his waist, another tugging softly at his hair. jungkook just watches him with open eyes until jimin pulls away, gaze so filled with warmth jungkook’s heart sizzles.

“there. now go to sleep, you dummy.”

jimin moves to curl back to sleep, but jungkook stops him, pulling him up again. the elder groans, as though to ask him what next, and jungkook just stares at him in utter disbelief, practically rooted to the spot.

“jimin-hyung kissed me.”

jimin groans again. “oh god, jungkook, can’t you, like, go to sleep?”

he shakes his head. “i can’t. i—you kissed me? was that a kiss? wait i had my eyes open we need to do it again.”

jimin throws jungkook’s pillow at him. “say one more word and i’m breaking up with you.”

jungkook shuts his mouth.

a sigh escapes jimin as he buries himself underneath the covers, snuggling close to jungkook’s body. the younger is still sitting, watching jimin slowly fall into deep slumber when suddenly—

“wait, we’re dating now?”

“jung-kook-ie!”

they don’t tell their friends—instead, jimin steals jungkook’s phone and updates all his social media, typing in a heart next to his own name in every description jungkook has on his accounts. jungkook stares at taehyung’s phone while the older accuses the younger of treachery, and yoongi cackles in the corner, ignoring jungkook’s desperate pleas for help.

jihyun texts them both, a paragraph dedicated to swearing he’ll never let jungkook steal his hyung despite the recent development, the other paragraph explaining in detail the safeties of gay sex.

jimin handles the response by using every cuss word in the korean and english dictionary.

two years later, jimin graduates with a degree in dance.

two years after, jungkook graduates as an artist.

that same year, jimin kneels on one knee after the ceremony ends and asks for jungkook’s hand in marriage.

he says yes.

there’s a knock on the door, and jungkook breathes out, closing his eyes as he tells the visitor to come in. he sees yoongi walk in from the mirror, smiling fondly as he watches jungkook struggle with the bowtie. the elder chuckles, shaking his head.

“come here, kid.”

jungkook obeys, letting yoongi fiddle with the fabric.

“nervous?” yoongi asks, and jungkook nods, releasing a shaky breath.

“like hell.”

“don’t breath on me, kid. it’s warm.” yoongi finishes the knot, and pats jungkook on the chest. he grins. “you’ll be fine. i’ll bet you jimin’s freaking out ten times more, and he’s outside greeting the guests.”

“pretty sure taetae hyung’s the one freaking out,” jungkook corrects, recalling how his fiancé’s “platonic soulmate” had hysterically screamed through their apartment that morning, a glass of champagne in hand. too early.

yoongi laughs. “i should tell namjoon to put him on a leash.”

“he’s your best friend,” jungkook points out. “you’re supposed to make sure he doesn’t fuck up while officiating us.”

yoongi snorts. “kid, i gotta make sure i don’t fuck up first.”

jungkook smiles. “doubt it. there’s a reason why i picked you, hyung.”

“because i’m the least likely to either a, break something, b, cry, or c, throw in five hundred puns in one speech.” yoongi smirks. “but don’t worry. i made sure to include an extra long paragraph about how i used to date jimin and how you hated my guts for it.”

jungkook groans. “jimin-hyung was right. inviting an ex to your wedding is a terrible idea.”

yoongi laughs. “too bad. should’ve thought about that before making me the mc.”

jungkook takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tries to collect his thoughts. he can hear yoongi on the other side of the door, the man cracking up jokes as the grooms mentally prepare themselves outside. his hands are shaking as he opens his eyes, and jimin takes one of them in his, squeezing gently.

“you’ll be fine,” jimin whispers. “i’m right here.”

jungkook nods. jimin’s right here.

yoongi transitions into announcing their arrival, and the doors open to reveal the guests they had invited—among the crowd are their parents, their mothers smiling with tears threatening to spill while their fathers beam proudly as they walk by. jihyun sits beside them, a fond look in his eyes; jungkook spots namjoon, seokjin and hoseok nearby, equally ecstatic expressions painted on their face.

they stop at the front, spinning to face the audience, and jungkook grips jimin’s hands a little tighter. he sees yoongi give him a reassuring smile before he turns to the crowd, staring off his speech with his promised tale of how he used to date jimin and caused jungkook to hate his guts. laughter rings from the crowd. jungkook blushes and resists the urge to throw daggers at the older man. yoongi just winks before announcing the special performance namjoon’s prepared.

namjoon’s song is sweet, the rap an elegant poetry, the bars and rhymes blending together to create art. jimin’s ready to cry by the end of it, and jungkook, too, blinks back a couple tears. he thanks namjoon for writing their song so intricately, and by the gleam in the composer’s eyes, jungkook knows he’d be glad to write for them any day.

“thank you, hyung, for the song,” taehyung calls, stealing yoongi’s line, and the producer glares, challenging the younger for the position. taehyung simply dismisses him. “to be honest, i don’t really know how to do my job, so i’m just going to pronounce you husband and—and, well, husband. now, kiss!”

jimin looks like he’s going to murder taehyung for his little speech, but jungkook just laughs, grabbing the elder by the waist and pulling him into a deep kiss. he feels jimin melt in his arms, hands moving to cup jungkook’s face, and in the background, the crowd cheers. taehyung whistles into the room.

they pull apart, and jungkook rests his forehead on jimin.

“found my kookie,” jimin whispers, and jungkook smiles.

“me too, hyung. found my hyungie, too.”

“hey, babe?”

jungkook hums, looking up from his phone as taehyung sends another photo from jimin and jungkook’s past to the groupchat. he scowls, sending a row of middle finger emojis back; he should’ve stopped jimin from introducing the older to park jihyun back then.

he tucks the phone into his pocket and pushes the shopping cart towards jimin. “yeah, hyung?”

“can we try a different brand?” jimin asks, pointing at the different coloured boxes of cereal in front of him. jungkook scrunches his nose; he likes their usual brand. jimin seems to read his mind, because suddenly he’s adorning a set of puppy eyes, lips pouting adorably. “please?”

jungkook sighs. “fine.”

jimin grins, kissing jungkook on the cheek. “best husband ever.”

“yeah, yeah,” jungkook dismisses, but he feels pride blooming in his chest. he looks at their hands, identical rings decorating their left ring finger, and he grins. it’s almost been two years since they’ve gotten married, but jungkook’s heart still races at the idea of them being husbands, even though it’s not really on paper.

he chuckles. they’re actually husbands.

jimin throws two green cereal boxes into the cart, throwing jungkook a weird look. “you okay there, bud?”

jungkook grins. “peachy.”

jimin’s about to respond when a cry breaks through their conversation, stealing their attention from each other towards the end of the cereal aisle. a little girl is wandering all alone, her arm clutching a stuffed rabbit as she whimpers out a name—her guardian, jungkook figures, as he watches her walk past, disappearing behind the shelves towards the next aisle.

beside him, jimin frowns, grabbing jungkook’s wrist and dragging him away from the cart. the girl hasn’t gone far; she’s stopped in front of the milk section, staring down the rows of freezers, eyes carefully searching. jimin immediately marches up to her, calming his pace when he gets close. as though sensing his presence, she turns, eyes wide with fear as she backs up into the chips on sale.

“hello,” jimin says softly, crouching down to meet her eyes. he puts on a soft smile, the one he normally reserves for jungkook, but the younger finds he doesn’t mind. it’s jimin’s prettiest smile, and jungkook’s glad to share it with the world. (except for maybe kim taehyung. and min yoongi. and kim namjoon, and kim seokjin, and jung hoseok, too. oh, and definitely not park jihyun.)

the girl purses her lips. she shyly waves.

“are you lost, sweetie?” jimin asks, and jungkook smiles, carefully walking over to join his husband. the girl’s eyes look up at him momentarily before flitting down to jimin again; she’s fiddling with the rabbit’s paw, feet shuffling in place. jimin pats jungkook’s thigh, a silent warning to back up. he does.

“i—i can’t find auntie,” she explains in a small voice.

jimin smiles. “where did you last see her?”

she sniffles. “by the ice cream—”

“sooyoung-ah!” a voice calls, and the girl—sooyoung—whips her head around, beaming when she sees the lady running to her with a basket in hand. she squeals happily as the woman scoops her into her arms, chastising her for not sticking close. sooyoung listens carefully and apologises, and the woman nods, patting her head. she turns to jimin and jungkook with a smile. “thank you so much…”

“park jimin,” jimin introduces, and then gestures at jungkook. “and jeon jungkook.”

“thank you, jimin-ssi and jungkook-ssi,” the woman finishes. “sooyoung’s always been a little troublemaker.”

jimin laughs. “it’s no problem, ma’am.”

“well, we better go,” she says, taking sooyoung’s hand in hers. she looks down at the girl. “the kids at the orphanage are waiting for their ice cream, so we should hurry and put the bunny back now.”

“but auntie—”

“kim sooyoung,” the woman warns, and sooyoung sighs, mumbling a yes. jungkook’s heart tugs for the girl. the woman smiles again. “thank you once more. i hope you have a nice day!”

jimin and jungkook watch as the pair leave. jungkook stares at the fluffy rabbit in sooyoung’s hands, thinking of his own chimchim that sits on their bed at home.

“hey, kookie?”

“yeah, hyung?”

“i know this might be soon, but—” jimin pauses, biting his lip. he turns to look up at jungkook through his lashes, fingers fiddling with his wedding ring. “have you ever thought of having a kid?”

jungkook blinks, tracing the shadows where sooyoung once stood. his mind somehow reals back to a scene at the playground, middle school jimin talking about his aspirations while jungkook swears to follow it by the book. he smiles. “yeah. yeah, i have.”

“sooyoung,” the woman calls, and jungkook sits at the table patiently, watching as a familiar little girl walk in. he crouches on the ground and watches as she beams instantly, rushing up to jungkook’s open arms as jimin laughs, planting a kiss on her chubby cheeks.

she squeals. “you came back!”

“of course we did, kiddo,” jimin says, winking at her. he’s hiding his hands behind his back. “and with a present, too.”

her eyes glitter. “a present?”

jimin whips out the stuffed rabbit from behind his back, and jungkook watches as she gasps, taking the toy from jimin and cuddling it against her chest. jungkook feels the fur of the rabbit against his skin, and he’s brought back to his own little supermarket misadventures and one furry gift courtesy of the same park jimin.

sooyoung breaks into a grin. “thank you, uncle jimin!”

“and kookie,” jimin corrects, “though you can’t call us uncle anymore.”

the smile slips from sooyoung’s face. “why not?”

jungkook chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “because you’ll get to call us daddy instead.”

she’s quiet for a second before the grin returns to her face ten time brighter, and she laughs, hugging jungkook with her bunny still in her hands. jungkook grins, sharing a look with jimin over her shoulder as the elder moves to the table to sign the final papers.

it’s jimin’s turn to make breakfast, but jungkook’s internal alarm clock screams at him to still wake up at seven in the morning. a yawn escapes his lips, hands rubbing at his groggy eyes as he stands to stretch out the kinks in his muscles. he rubs his exposed stomach, scratching the back of his head; he swears he wore a shirt last night.

he looks around.

it’s on the ground.

he enters the kitchen, still slipping the shirt on, and smiles when he sees jimin at the stove, busy filling the pan with pancake batter as he makes his way up the pancake stack. the elder feels his presence and turns, eyes melting at the sight of jungkook as though he is the most beautiful thing on earth. jungkook is sure, though, he has a massive bed hair.

“morning,” he says, voice still heavy with sleep. he wraps an arm around jimin’s waist, resting his head on his husband’s shoulder.

jimin hums, one hand bending upwards to play with jungkook’s hair. jungkook feels his smile against his scalp. “morning, baby.”

“smells good,” jungkook mumbles, pressing a kiss to jimin’s neck, softly letting his tongue trace patterns on the skin. jimin lets him do what his wants, though both hands return to the skillet, flipping the food with a spatula.

“is sooyoungie awake?”

jungkook closes his eyes. “no. i think she’s still asleep on our bed.”

“wake her up,” jimin instructs. he moves to grab two plates, and jungkook’s arms fall to his side. meanwhile his whole body lurches forward, almost dropping onto the stove if it wasn’t for the fact that he jolted himself awake.

jungkook glares at him. he whines. “ hyungie.”

jimin laughs, creating two separate stacks. the first plate is incredibly taller than the second; he douses the smaller stack in strawberry syrup. “go wake her up, kookie.”

“fine,” jungkook grumbles, stomping away. jimin only laughs louder as he disappears into the hallway that leads to their bedroom.

sure enough, sooyoung is sprawled in the middle of the bed, her arms and legs spread out so that she looks like a starfish. jungkook smiles fondly at the way she’s got chimchim curled up on her left, her bunny kook resting on her right. he walks over and sits on the edge, running a hand softly through her hair.

“sooyoungie,” he calls softly, as though afraid to wake her even though he knows that’s the ultimate goal. “wake up, sweetheart.”

sooyoungie groans, rolling over to her side. she nuzzles her face into jungkook’s hip, and jungkook laughs, bringing his fingers to tickle her exposed tummy.

she whines. “daddy.”

“come on,” jungkook says louder, and then it’s a full-blown tickle war, sooyoung suddenly wide awake and laughing as he lightly feathers her cute stomach and presses kisses against her scalp. when she squirms a little more, he brings his lips to her tummy and blows little raspberries near her belly button.

she squeals. “daddy! daddy, stop! jimin daddy! kookie daddy’s trying to eat me!”

“jeon jungkook!” jimin yells from the kitchen. it’s supposed to sound intimidating, but jungkook knows he’s laughing. “stop eating my daughter!”

“hungry!” jungkook calls, blowing another raspberry, and sooyoung screams, hitting her arm against jungkook’s bicep. jungkook laughs.

“eat my pancakes, then!”

sooyoung tries to push him off. “yeah, daddy—eat jimin daddy’s pancakes!”

jungkook chuckles, finally releasing his daughter, and pulls away to let her sit up. her hair is sticking in every direction on the compass. he laughs louder.

“daddy’s mean.” sooyoung pouts.

“sorry, sweetheart,” jungkook apologises through snorts, but still presses a kiss onto her nose. he starts laughing again when he pulls away and sees her hair, and his fingers begin softly carding through the black locks, taking out the knots as carefully as possible. “i won’t eat you next time.”

sooyoung smiles. “promise?”

“yep,” jungkook smirks. “daddy will just gobble you up.”

“daddy!”

jungkook laughs.

from the kitchen jimin tells them to hurry up.

“ready to go, youngie?” jungkook asks, standing up, and kissing her head.

she extends her arms up. “carry me?”

he smiles. “anything for my princess.”

he scoops her up into his arms, not missing the way she clings onto both bunny kook and chimchim, and the four of them head into the dining table near the kitchen where jimin’s already setting the table. jungkook notices the small smile on his face when he sees the stuffed animals, a fond look glazing over his eyes.

sooyoungie immediately goes for the fork. “daddy, you forgot chimchim and bunny kook’s food.”

“right,” jimin says, breaking out of his trance, and he moves towards sooyoung’s toy kitchen set in the corner. he takes two tiny plates and two plastic waffles, placing it on either size of sooyoung’s breakfast. the little girl beams. “eat up.”

jungkook settles into the seat next to sooyoung, grabs the knife and fork and begins cutting into the stack. he watches as honey and cream drizzle through the cut, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

across from him, jimin’s helping sooyoung eat while she feeds bunny kook and chimchim their waffles, and jungkook smiles, feeling a familiar warmth bubble in his chest. sometimes, he still feels as though everything’s a dream, that jimin’s still actually that six-year-old at store, buying his mother flowers, while he’s three and lost in a world that’s far too big. he looks at the bunny in sooyoung’s arms. maybe he’s still a little lost.

“hey, jimin daddy?” sooyoung calls, and jimin hums, feeding her another bite of pancakes and strawberry sauce. she chews before speaking as instructed, swallowing a little quickly. she looks at jimin shyly. “can you tell the story of how you met kookie daddy again?”

jungkook takes a giant bite. it’s okay to be lost, he decides.

jimin smiles. “sure thing, kiddo. do you wanna hear the whole thing or?”

“the whole thing?” sooyoung asks with wonder-filled eyes. she’s never heard the whole thing before

jimin chuckles. “uh-huh. how kookie and i fell in love.”

sooyoung gasps. “yes, please!”

jungkook smiles. it’s okay, he thinks, poking a straw through a bottle of banana milk, because he’s got jimin by his side, and this time, he’ll never, ever leave.

jimin puts the fork down. he leans closer to sooyoung’s face, and the story begins again with words jungkook has memorised by now through countless retells. jimin’s voice is a spell.

“the broken sounds of tears is the first thing he notices, the noise echoing through the narrow aisles of the supermarket.

“there’s a crying boy in the middle of the store.”