Archive of Our Own

“Maybe if you weren’t starving yourself, you could actually hit the moves right.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Jungkook knows it the second the words leave his lips, his frustration from that morning bleeding into the moment and bringing everything to a standstill, like a snapshot of Jungkook’s worst decisions and this one is the epitome of them all.

Jimin stares at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open in shock. Even the other members seem shocked—it’s not like Jungkook to lash out at Jimin like that, not lately anyways. They had come a long way from where they’d started, with Jimin flinging himself on the other and forcing his affections on the shy maknae, only to be rebuffed time and again. In fact, the two of them had been getting closer and closer every day. Somehow, Jimin had managed to charm his way past all of Jungkook’s carefully defended walls

But Jungkook is his own worst enemy; he knows that, everyone knows that, and no matter how much he wants to take it back, he can’t so he clenches his jaw and glances away from the other before he sees the full impact of what he’s just said slam into him.

“I…I’m sorry. I’ll be back,” Jimin half-whispers before darting from the room. No doubt he’s going to the bathroom. He’ll probably start crying. Before he realizes it, Jungkook’s legs begin carrying him out of the practice room behind the other, but a voice halts him.

“Jungkook-ssi, don’t even think about it.” It’s Namjoon, his leader-voice on full display. Jungkook freezes, turning to meet the gaze of the usually kind-faced man to see a stern look upon his features, eyes glinting. The honorific makes Jungkook wince—it’s almost like Namjoon doesn’t know him, as if they’re strangers. He suddenly feels very small, very remote, and very much in trouble.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins, holding up his hands as if to ward off danger. “I didn’t…”

“How could you, Kookie?” Taehyung asks, his normally deep voice almost growling. “Do you have any idea how much pressure Jimin has been under lately? PD-nim has been riding his case, pushing for him to be able to show his abs again.”

“He cried in my arms when they gave him his new diet,” Jin murmurs, lips pursed in disdain. “He was worried about ARMY being upset with him. He knows they worry, especially when they think he’s not being healthy. But he was trying, Kookie. Trying to stick to his new diet while not going overboard.”

“And of course the Golden Maknae has to stick his foot in his mouth,” Yoongi snorts. The sheer acid in his voice makes Jungkook’s eyes sting, and he clenches his jaw even tighter as each of them scold him.

Hoseok doesn’t say anything, only glaring coldly at him, and it’s his actions that sting the most because Hoseok is so rarely cold. In fact, he’s always been a beacon of warmth and love so when he’s giving him the silent treatment, Jungkook knows he’s screwed up bigtime. The dancer looks instead to Namjoon, who’s glancing at the door as if contemplating who he should send to retrieve their most charming member. “Give Jiminie a minute to compose himself before sending someone after him. Let’s run through the choreography again,” Hoseok says, motioning for them all to get in place.

Jimin doesn’t return for the rest of practice, but Jungkook notices that the others point out more of his own mistakes than normal, as if they’re all looking for a reason to scold him. He doesn’t mind though; he knows he deserves it, knows he shouldn’t have said what he had.

They’re all drenched in sweat at the end of their dance practice and Hoseok makes Jungkook run it a few more times on his own, gaze calculating each move and correcting the other as often as possible until Jungkook is sure he’s going to pass out.

Finally, he seems satisfied that he’s punished him enough. “About time you got it,” Hoseok chides and Taehyung scoffs.

“Some Golden Maknae,” Tae murmurs, just to get a little extra revenge (Jimin is his best friend, after all, ‘soulmates’ as the two have said on numerous occasions which Jungkook tries not to get too jealous about) and Jungkook winces and takes it. He knows they’ll forgive him eventually, knows that this is a part of being in a family; there’s good days and bad days, and as long as he makes it up to Jimin that night—and he intends to—everything will be okay in the morning.

Jimin is waiting for them outside, eyes red-rimmed and face puffy as he scrolls through something on his phone, but he manages a smile at them—even Jungkook—when they step out and he tucks the phone back into his pocket. Taehyung and Hoseok immediately set upon him, ruffling his hair and wrapping their arms around him, arguing over who will get to sit with him in the van.

The other hyungs hang back from the sunshine line a bit, but he notices how they create a not-so-subtle barrier between him and Jimin, as if they’re worried he’ll say something else to hurt Jimin if he’s given half a chance. Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes at that; as if he would. He’d only said what he did in the heat of the moment, too upset about Jimin skipping breakfast again and worried that he’d fallen into old habits. It wasn’t like he was trying to hurt him. Quite the opposite, actually, because Jungkook had already realized sometime between the early days following their debut when he’d always rejected Jimin and now, when he found himself worrying over every little thing he did and craving his attention, that he was in love with Jimin.

Of course, nobody knew that part. He hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—hell, he’d barely admitted them to himself—too afraid of what it might do to their relationship. They already worked and lived together; mixing in romance was probably a bad idea.

They all pile into the van, although each of them take turns tugging Jungkook back every time he tries to get in, Yoongi even managing a sharp jab to his aching side and giving him a gummy smile when Jungkook tries to glare at him.

But Jimin doesn’t. He motions for Jungkook to get in ahead of him before climbing into the seat beside him, much to the annoyance of Taehyung and Hoseok who’d gotten the back seat in hopes of getting Jimin to sit with them.

“Jimin,” Jungkook begins as the car pulls out of the parking lot, but Jimin holds up a small hand.

“Not now, Kookie. Please,” he says and this close, it’s hard to ignore the tear tracks on his face, the quiver in his voice, the bone-weariness in his shoulders. Jungkook shuts up, guilt unfurling in his chest like a white flag.

He hates himself in that moment. Hates that he’s the reason Jimin’s smile is so sad and strained right now, hates that he hadn’t noticed how much Jimin had been struggling between his own body issues, PD-nim’s expectations, and the worries of his fans. Hates that for once, it’s what he actually said that’s the problem, rather than what he’s too afraid to say.

Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, Jungkook instead looks out of the window and watches the lights of the city flash by, leaning his head against the cold window and relishing the coolness on his sweaty forehead. Man, Hoseok really put him through his paces today. He’ll have to thank him for it tomorrow, although right now he wants to just relish in the misery he feels he so rightfully deserves.

The trip isn’t that long, but it feels like it takes forever. The van is stiflingly silent, even Taehyung’s voice muted. Jungkook supposes that’s his fault, too, and he sighs, glancing over to Jimin. He knows the other told him not to speak, but he has to apologize at least. If nothing else, he needs to tell him he’s sorry. Jimin doesn’t have to forgive him, although he’s relatively certain that he will, but he needs to at least say the words.

But Jimin’s eyes are closed when Jungkook looks at him, head lolling lightly against the shoulder strap of his seatbelt. He looks so peaceful, so beautiful…

Jungkook reaches up to push some hair off of his forehead, but that’s when everything goes wrong. There’s a horn blaring, bright lights filling the van’s interior and Jungkook realizes far too late that he forgot to buckle his seatbelt—Jimin had scolded him for it so many times, often buckling it for him as he chided Jungkook for being so reckless—and then there’s this awful sound, metal twisting violently against metal, before a strange sort of weightlessness fills the pit of Jungkook’s stomach.

He hears glass break, screaming from someone, and then everything goes black.

Jimin comes to with a light groan, hand coming up to touch a tender spot on his forehead. He realizes too late that his hand feels heavier than normal, and he opens bleary eyes to see it wrapped in some kind of cast. What happened?

“Park Jimin-ssi?” a quiet voice chimes in, sending spikes of pain through his head.

He turns to the voice and tries to open his eyes, but it’s too bright. Everything is too bright. A pained sound escapes his lips and he clenches his eyes shut tighter.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me dim the lights for you.” He hears a light click. “Can you open your eyes now?”

Jimin does his best and this time, he succeeds. He’s in an unfamiliar room, the lights dim. He can tell the walls are a light grey, and there’s another bed in the room housing a motionless figure. He can feel something tight in his hand, and looks down to find an IV sticking into one of his veins. Fear seizes his heart in his chest at his unfamiliar surroundings and the pain that even now refuses to die down. “Where am I?” he grunts and the voice sounds almost as unfamiliar as the room looks despite it clearly being his.

“My name is Kim Jinah-ssi,” the voice says and he can see now that it belongs to a smiling woman, who pulls a light out of a pocket in her scrubs and begins testing his eyes. “You’ve been in an accident, Jimin-ssi. Do you feel any pain?”

“Yeah,” Jimin grunts, the words not quite registering in his brain all the way

“Where?”

“Head,” he says. “And wrist. And…yeah, my sides too. What did you say happened?”

“An accident. You were riding in your company’s van and…”

The words disappear, swallowed by the loud blare of a horn, grinding metal, and glass shattering. A scream. Panic spears into his chest and he pushes himself up suddenly, ignoring the pain his body emits in response. “Where are the others?” he all but shrieks, startling the poor nurse.

“Please calm down, Jimin-ssi. You’ll aggravate your injuries,” Jinah protests, urging him to lay back down, but he fights against the grip. All he can think about is his bandmates, his manager, even the driver…

The figure on the bed next to his groans, causing Jimin to glance sharply at him, and none other than Kim Taehyung emerges from the blankets. He’s bandaged as well, dark bruises and cuts marring his usually perfect face. “Jiminie,” he gasps, nearly toppling out of his bed in his hurry to get to Jimin’s side. His own IV stops him from getting very far and he curses, tugging the thing out.

“Taehyung-ssi!” The nurse admonishes immediately, but he bats her hand away and trips his way into Jimin’s bed, grabbing the other boy’s face in his massive hands.

“Are you okay, Jiminie? Talk to me,” he barks.

“T-tae! I’m fine! Where is everyone else? Please tell me no-one died…”

“I…” Taehyung begins, biting his lower lip in a way Jimin knows means he’s about to cry. “The driver-nim…he didn’t make it.”

Jimin’s heart drops in his chest. He didn’t know the man especially well, but it still hurts to hear the news. “And…and everyone else?” Jimin asks, already afraid of what he’s going to hear.

Taehyung shakes his head. “Nobody else died, thank god, but Kookie…”

And then the tears are running down Taehyung’s face and he buries his head in Jimin’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his torso. It’s not comfortable—in fact, it’s pretty agonizing, the movement putting pressure on his own injuries—but Jimin wraps his arms around his fellow 95-liner and glances up at Jinah for the rest of the story.

Her expression is kind, but clearly troubled as she sighs. “Your driver mercifully died on impact but then the van flipped several times,” she tells him quietly. “Jungkook-ssi didn’t have on a seatbelt and…he was flung from the vehicle. Everyone else made it out with only minor injuries, but he…”

Jimin feels his world start to blur at the edges, the words seeping into his brain. ‘

Jungkook-ssi didn’t have on a seatbelt.

How many times had Jimin lectured the younger boy about the importance of wearing a seatbelt?

Flung from the vehicle.

Why? Why hadn’t the idiot listened to him? Tears overflowed his eyes, tracking silently down his cheeks, and it seemed especially wrong that the last person who made Jimin cry had also been Jungkook.

“Can I see him?” he asks, his voice surprisingly steady.

“Your leader is with him now,” Jinah explains, “But if you sit still and let me check on your injuries to make sure everything’s okay, I’ll let you up to visit him next. I know you’re worried about your friends, but your health is important, too.”

Jimin nodded and rubbed Taehyung’s back. The other sniffled and rubbed his nose as he sat back. “I’ll go let the others know you’re awake now,” Taehyung said.

“And you then you had better get your butt right back here,” Jinah says.

“I’m fine, Nurse Jinah-ssi,” Taehyung protests. “Really, I don’t feel a thing.”

“You will soon, Kim Taehyung. That IV was your pain medication. A cracked rib is no joke.”

“Tae,” Jimin admonishes, mortified that the other had yanked his IV out and booked it across the room despite being hurt.

But the other simply blushed and hurries—well, shuffles more like—out of the room to tell the rest of his bandmates that Jimin has regained consciousness.

“So, what’s my damage?” Jimin asks as wryly as he can when his heart hurts so much just imagining the state Jungkook must be in and how badly off the rest of his friends could be.

“A moderate concussion for one,” Jinah explains, glancing at his chart. “As well as a broken wrist and bruised ribs. You’re going to feel sore for a while.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jimin says, trying to smile.

“We worried you might not be,” the nurse continues, pursing her lips. “Head injuries can be very serious, and when you didn’t wake up for hours we worried there might be more damage than we thought. We even did a CT scan to ensure there was no extra swelling or bleeding in your brain.”

“But there wasn’t, right?” Jimin says, feeling guilty. His bandmates must have been worried about him, too. He hates making them worry, especially when they had enough to worry about with Jungkook’s condition.

“Right,” Jinah confirms. “Turns out, you were just exhausted and slightly dehydrated. How much sleep have you been getting, Jimin-ssi?’

“Uh…” Jimin tries to remember how many hours he’d slept the past few days. Not many, that was for sure. But none of them had—being an idol was a lot of work. They all knew what they were getting into when they signed up for this, perhaps none more than Jimin, who had almost decided against joining because of the demands of the program. Taehyung had been the one to convince him to do it anyways, and he was grateful for that. It was hard, but it was worth it because of the family he had gained in the process. A family that was hurting now more than ever, and he was stuck holed up in this damn bed instead of with them.

Jinah sighs. “That’s what I feared,” she says. “You really need to rest over the next couple of weeks. Jungkook-ssi will need you at full strength if…when he wakes up.”

The slip is minor, barely there, but it’s enough to send a hot spike of fear through him. “Please,” Jimin pleads. “You’ve had a chance to check me over and I’m fine, I am, and I’ll try to do better and rest more, but I have to…I need to see him. Please.”

Jinah nods. “All right,” she relents, marking some things on his chart. “But you’ll have to sit in a wheelchair—policy, you understand.”

“I’ll do whatever. Just take me to him.”

It’s a short trip down the hall and into the elevator, two floors up. When Jinah pushes him out of the elevator and into the hall, Jimin immediately spots his friends gathered in a waiting room, each in varying states of bandages: Yoongi has a bandage covering one eye, Hoseok has a cast on his ankle and crutches under one arm, and Seokjin’s arm is in a sling; their manager is slumped in a chair with a neck brace on, asleep judging by the snoring. They all have cuts and bruises decorating their skin, and weariness in their eyes. Namjoon isn’t there, presumably still in the room with Jungkook, and Taehyung is leaning heavily on Yoongi, brow furrowed in a look of pain; apparently, his pain meds have worn off.

Jinah rolls her eyes at the pathetic state of the younger and she hurries over to help him back to the room he was sharing with Jimin downstairs.

As soon as the others see him, they hurry over and begin touching him, fingers ruffling through his hair and ghosting over his stitches, touches lingering on his shoulder or arm as if ensuring that he’s really there and that his injuries are healing. He has always been a very physically affectionate person, and he relishes in the feeling of his hyungs doting on him.

There are more than a few tears and meaningless words shed in the space of the moment, and then there’s a cough from behind them. They spread out to wipe their faces and compose themselves as Namjoon comes into the room, looking the least physically injured out of all of them. Nevertheless, he looks exhausted, clearly shouldering the responsibility of his bandmates being hurt—which is ridiculous, obviously, but it’s just the kind of person Namjoon is.

“Jiminie,” he murmurs, voice breaking, and though Jimin has seen his leader cry before, he’s never seen him look this broken. He stands from his wheelchair and closes the distance between them, allowing Namjoon to wrap his arms around him. He smells like smoke, gasoline, and antiseptic, a strange combination, but Jimin takes comfort in his closeness, feeling his own tears start up again as the other holds him.

“It’s bad, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon murmurs against his hair, grip tightening on his waist slightly. “It’s really bad…”

“Shh…” Jimin murmurs, immediately falling into his comforting role. This is what he was born to do; more than anything, he’s made to make people feel better. Even when his own heart is clenching in his chest, anxiety over Jungkook’s condition enough to make his breathing short and ragged, he has to make Namjoon feel better. He has to remove the furrow between his brows, or at least lessen it so some extent, before he can even begin to consider anything else.

He waits for Namjoon’s sobs to subside, for his body to stop shaking in his arms, before finally pulling away. His ribs ache, head still pounding, but there’s still someone he wants to see—no, someone he needs to see—before he can rest.

“Joonie hyung…take me to him?” Jimin asks.

Namjoon nods and turns away, leading him out of the room and down the hall.

“He’s right through there,” Namjoon says. “But Jimin-ah…”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assures him, squeezing his hand briefly. “I can take it.”

He’s wrong. As soon as the door closes behind him and he sees Jungkook lying motionless in the bed, a tube stuffed down his throat and breathing for him, his own breath catches and he feels his knees start to buckle.

“Oh god,” he gasps, stumbling the rest of the way to the bed and reaching almost blindly for Jungkook’s hand. It feels so cold in his, and although it’s much bigger than his own, it feels small. There are other tubes inside of him too, some carrying blood, some carrying nutrients, and some carrying something for the pain—maybe something to keep him asleep while his body tries to knit itself together.

Half of his face is covered with an ugly bruise and there’s a gash over his left eyebrow that’s bigger than Jimin’s. Even with the blanket pulled up, Jimin can tell Jungkook isn’t wearing a shirt. Instead, his torso is wrapped in bandages. If he could see the chart, he’d see that the worst of his injuries aren’t even visible—internal hemorrhaging, three cracked ribs, a collapsed lung and a dislocated hip—and the bandages are mostly just covering the minor injuries, like road burn from where he’d skidded after being ejected from the vehicle.

Jimin can’t believe that this is what his beloved dongsaeng has been reduced to—a wax figure held together by science and hanging on by a thread.

“Kookie,” he gasps, laying his head on their joined hands and feeling the tears come out of him again. “When will I stop crying over you?”

Because of all the people in Jimin’s life, he’s cried over Jungkook the most. Not always because he did or said something stupid, or because he’s worried. Countless nights, he’d cried himself to sleep because of one cold, hard fact: he’d fallen in love with him.

It wasn’t even a slow descent. He was completely enamored of the kid from the minute he saw his too-big nose and those adorable bunny teeth. He’d tried to be up front about it from the beginning, but Jungkook had remained stubborn, choosing to see all his advances as a joke until Jimin himself started seeing it that way. He told himself that it was a passing thing, that he’d get over it, but of course he hadn’t.

And so he cried. Cried because of what he wanted but couldn’t have; cried because it was so selfish to want even more of Jungkook than he was willing to give; cried because there was no way that someone as gifted and naturally talented as Jungkook could ever love him back.

And now he’s crying because Jungkook is hurt, so close to being gone for good, and there isn’t anything he can do to bring him back. “Please,” he sobs. “Please come back to us; please come back to me.”

But Jungkook didn’t come back. A couple weeks passed and he started breathing on his own, but his eyes remained stubbornly closed, his mind refusing to reanimate his corpse-like body. They were given time to recover, their injuries healing slowly but surely. Jimin did his best to listen to Jinah and take it easy himself, but it was difficult. He constantly felt antsy, needing to be at Jungkook’s side as often as possible.

They all did, really. Each of them harbored so much guilt and fear when it came to their comatose maknae, and they all have so much they want to tell him as soon as he’s awake.

Unfortunately, the entertainment industry waits for nobody. As soon as they’re all more-or-less capable of moving, they find themselves being pushed back into their schedules. It feels wrong without Jungkook there, but they know that he wouldn’t want them to let BTS fall apart in his absence. They apply themselves with more fervor than ever before, assuring fans that Kookie is recovering well and that he’ll be so happy to hear about their continued support when he comes to, and that they’ll do their best to keep up the good work for his sake and for the sake of their beloved ARMY.

And they do. They keep trudging on and their music has never felt more meaningful. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, when he’s on the stage. His muscle memory takes over, he stops thinking, and he just dances letting the music fill his veins and take over; but other times, he’ll get so lost in the music that he looks to where Jungkook is supposed to be and feels his heart lodge in his throat when he sees that spot empty or filled with a different member and the reminder of what they lost—no, Jungkookie isn’t lost, not yet—stabs into him, strangling the music from within. If he stops singing or dancing in those moments, though, the other members and even the fans are quick to cover the lapse. Jimin is brought to tears more than once when he sees the fans all singing along or shouting a ‘Get well, Jungkookie!’ into the universe; they all cry backstage on those days.

It’s almost a month after the accident when their manager pitches the idea of an international tour that will take them out of Korea for the first time since Jungkook’s coma. “No,” Namjoon says immediately, his voice steel. “We’re not leaving Korea.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” the manager tries, though his voice is not without compassion.

“Don’t you think it’s time you shut up?” Yoongi growls, and Hoseok immediately places a warning hand on his arm at the blatant disrespect. The rapper backs down, only slightly, relaxing into Hoseok’s touch. Jimin notices that Hoseok doesn’t apologize on Yoongi’s behalf, though, his eyes level as he looks at the shocked manager.

“We can’t leave Jungkookie,” Jin says, causing the manager to look at him. He’s not one to speak against the manager often, usually the first to back down and convince the others to listen, so the fact that even he is against this idea says a lot.

“Jin hyung’s right,” Taehyung speaks up. “Besides, I’m not entirely sure I feel whole enough for an international tour myself. My rib still hurts…”

Jimin reaches out and touches Taehyung’s hand comfortingly. “The doctors said it would take six weeks to heal fully. You’ve been doing so good, Taehyung-ah. I can’t believe you get up there and dance at all.”

Taehyung offers him a smile at the praise. It’s true that all of their choreography had had to be taken down a notch due to their injuries. Some had healed quickly—like Jimin’s—while others, like Tae’s, seemed to linger and crop up at the most annoying times. He’d seen them all struggling. Even so…

“But manager-nim is right,” he says, earning a shocked gasp from all of them, none more so than the manager himself. “Jungkook wouldn’t want us to mope about Korea or halt our progress because of him. We talked about this when PD-nim first asked us if we wanted to continue. We said we would keep at it, for his sake. Just…”

Jimin steeled himself, biting his lip. “Let us see him, one more time, before we leave? We have to say goodbye, just in case…”

Just in case he takes a turn for the worst while we’re away.

The thought doesn’t bare stating aloud, but his meaning is clear. Seokjin sucks in a breath, Namjoon glances down at his lap, Yoongi curls his hands into fists, Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s arm tightens briefly, and Taehyung stares at him open-mouthed, a protest already forming on his lips.

Jimin shakes his head, silencing him before he starts, and then the manager nods. “Of course, Jimin-ssi. I’ll arrange it right away.”

He looks to Namjoon for confirmation, and the leader nods his head curtly. And just like that, their shoulders all sag in defeat. Whether they want it to or not, time marches on and they had to keep pace.

They each get an extended visitation time to talk, one-on-one, with the sleeping maknae. Jimin offers to go last, even though he’s desperate to hold the younger’s hand in his and pour his heart out.

The last thing he wants to do is leave Jungkook behind. He knows the others feel similarly, and Taehyung won’t stop looking at him as if he’s betrayed them by suggesting they go on this tour. But Jimin is in love with Jungkook, so he thinks that entitles him to a certain understanding of him and he knows that it was the right call.

They’re all red-eyed when they come out, one after the other, and finally Jimin’s turn comes. He steps into the room, already prepared for what he’s going to see.

Jungkook had been moved out of the ICU as soon as he started breathing on his own. Thanks to their popular status and BigHit’s generosity, he’s been granted a private room with all kinds of comforts. Jimin himself had made sure to bring Jungkook’s favorite Iron Man blanket to keep the cold away and there are countless flowers and chocolates and get well cards on the bedside tables courtesy of friends, fans, and family.

The bruising has faded significantly, the gash on his forehead and the road rash that had painted his torso having healed almost completely. If it weren’t for the IVs in his arm and the monitor counting his heartbeats and the tubes in his nose, it would look like the maknae was merely sleeping.

Jimin doesn’t cry though. Not this time. He simply reaches up and brushes a hand across Jungkook’s pale cheek before moving a strand of the soft brown hair off his face. “Such a lazy thing,” Jimin murmurs. “How long are you going to keep doing this to us, huh? Making us do all the work while you slack off in here. Brat.”

He had fallen into the habit of talking to Jungkook as if he could hear him, carrying on little one-sided conversations and even teasing him in the hopes of getting a reaction out of him. Sometimes, he can imagine the other scoffing and responding in that voice of his, the one Jimin so longed to hear again. Where do you get off calling me lazy?

“What else am I going to call you? Day in and day out, just sleeping and sleeping…”

At least I’m not short like you, Jiminie.

Jimin snorts. “Rather be short than lazy and that’s hyung to you, brat. Besides, how else could I fit so comfortably under your chin, hm?”

With a sigh, Jimin climbs onto the bed next to Jungkook, snuggling into his side with his head placed, as he said, so very comfortably under his chin. He's careful not to jostle anything, having already familiarized himself with this position. He spent more time sleeping in here than he ought to have during their all-too-short time off.

He places a small hand on Jungkook’s chest, feeling his heart beat in time with the monitor by the bed. “We’re leaving, you know. International tour. Asia first, then Europe. Maybe the US by the end of the year. I’m gonna miss you, Kookie. We all are, but I think I’ll miss you the most. You usually snuck into my bed in the hotels ‘cause you said you hated sleeping in a strange place without something familiar close by. I don’t know why you always picked my bed, but I liked it. I hope you know that. I complained about it a lot, saying you were a bed hog, but I never minded. It made me really, really happy.”

Jimin sighs again. “I guess I’m the bed hog now, huh? Sneaking into your bed like this. But I hope you don’t mind. I don’t know when I’ll get to hold you again…”

Or even if I will.

“I miss it when you used to hold me back. You always said I was the koala, but you could be clingy, too. You were practically attached to my back. I didn’t realize how cold it was until you weren’t there to keep me warm.”

A glance at the clock tells him his time is almost up. He pushes himself up and climbs carefully off of the bed. Only then does he let one of his tears fall and he hurriedly scrubs it away. “Aish, I said I was done crying over you but I just can’t help it I guess. I always had a soft spot for you.” Jimin hesitates then, not sure if he wanted to continue talking or not.

Just spit it out already, Park Jimin, a voice like Jungkook’s says in his head once more and he hiccupps a laugh. “I love you, Kookie. So much. I wish I’d gotten to tell you before…before all this happened. But I’m telling you now, and I hope, when you wake up, you’ll know that I love you, that I’ll never stop, and even though I’m going to be far away for the next few months, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time. I’m doing this for you. I hope it’ll make you happy.”

And with that, he leans over and presses a chaste kiss on the unresponsive lips of his favorite maknae and turns to leave.

Except he can’t. Faster than Jimin can process what's happened, his hand is caught in a grip. It isn’t a tight grip, or even hard, but its mere existence is so world-shattering that Jimin feels frozen, afraid he’s imagined it or had truly lost his mind once and for all.

“Do’t go,” comes the groggy voice behind him, so painfully familiar and unfamiliar all at once because the words are painted with strain and difficulty where once it had been effortlessly beautiful. “Without…me.”

Jungkookie is awake.

The next couple of weeks are a whirlwind of activity. Their international tour is pushed back in light of Jungkook’s seemingly miraculous recovery and none of them can imagine leaving now, not when they have to make sure he’s really okay.

The damage done to his body had been extensive, but not permanent. It would be a while yet before he could move unaided, let alone sing and dance, but he’s released from the hospital just a few days after his awakening and told to attend physical therapy to get his hip sorted and his muscles used to moving again after being cooped up in a bed for so long.

The worst of it had luckily been healed during the coma, so Jungkook finds himself eager to get back in shape. In fact, he’s so eager that on the day he’s released from the hospital, he insists that he’s fine to get out of his wheelchair and walk (more like limp) to the van as soon as they step out of the hospital’s front door, but Namjoon shuts that down immediately and insists on pushing him the rest of the way.

This time, when Jungkook gets in the van—with the help of Hoseok and Yoongi—Jimin makes sure to buckle him into the seatbelt himself and latches his hand to his for the whole ride. Jungkook can’t say he minds; it’s been too long since he’s gotten to hold the other’s hand. At least, too long since he could remember it or reciprocate the affection. Seokjin fusses over him when they arrive at the dorm, insisting that he’s going to make Jungkook’s favorite food to celebrate his homecoming.

“You should rest while Jin hyung cooks,” Jimin says once they get in the door, refusing to meet Jungkook’s eyes and seemingly bashful. “I have your bed made already.”

“I slept enough, hyung,” Jungkook all but groans. He’s breathing pretty heavily from exertion, but it feels good to move again so sleep is the last thing on his mind right now. “Just put me on the couch. I’ve got shows to catch up on.”

“Yah, brat, you should take better care of yourself. Rest is important,” Jimin tuts, but he does as Jungkook asks and helps him over to the couch before scurrying off to get his Iron Man blanket out of the van. Namjoon slips onto the couch to one side of him, placing a comfortable arm around his shoulder, and Jungkook can’t help but lean into the contact. Yoongi and Hoseok flop down on the floor by his legs and Jin busies himself in the kitchen. When Jimin returns, he drapes the blanket on Jungkook’s legs before curling into Namjoon’s other side and taking Jungkook’s hand in his from across his lap.

The attention is almost overwhelming, making Jungkook’s cheeks blush and his eyes burn with unshed tears. Who knew taking a month-long nap was all it would take to get everyone to treat him like the Golden Maknae he totally is.

Still, Taehyung is curiously silent, hovering close by but not quite approaching him, as if he’s worried about something. There’s an odd tension around him, and Jungkook wishes he’d relax. He understands that he had caused the other a lot of worry, but he’s home now and everything is going to be fine. What was he so upset about?

He reaches out a hand to Taehyung and makes grabbing motions. The slightly taller boy looks surprised, eyes widening before he hurries over and sits next to Jungkook. Still, he doesn’t wrap himself around Jungkook like the others, seeming on edge.

Jungkook hates this and it shows, his tongue poking into his cheek as he surveys the boy beside him for any sign of what’s on his mind. When nothing apparent pops out, he decides to eat his pride—what’s left of it—and ask. “Tae…” he begins.

“I was so mad at you,” Taehyung suddenly bursts out. Everyone turns in surprise and Taehyung looks like he might stop, jaw clenching, but he continues on. “We all were.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks.

“Tae, don’t,” Jimin begins, eyes wide.

“Jiminie, I have to get this off my chest. I know that the accident happened and we’re all really happy to get Kookie back, but we never got to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Jungkook asks carefully.

“Do you remember it?” Taehyung asks him.

“The accident?” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow in concentration and he looks at all of his hyungs, wondering where this is going. “Not really. It’s all a blur.”

“Not that part,” Taehyung says, waving his hand dismissively. “Before that. Do you remember what you said—what I said—before the accident happened?”

Jungkook cast back in his memories, trying to remember what had all happened. A sharp spike of pain makes him wince as he tries to remember and he feels Jimin’s hand tighten on his.

“Taehyung-ah, do we have to do this now? Kookie’s hurting…” Jimin says after a moment.

Taehyung opens his mouth, perhaps to relent, but Jungkook reaches out with his other hand and takes Tae’s fingers in his own as if to reassure him.

“N-no. I’m fine,” Jungkook says. “If it’s important, I’ll try to remember. I just…it’s hard.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Jin says worriedly from behind them, looking between Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung. The others all look varying states of guilty, though Jungkook can’t figure out where that guilt is coming from.

Jungkook closes his eyes and then, slowly, vague memories start to play out. They’re disjointed at first, making very little sense, but then he hisses and his eyes snap open, his head turning to look at Jimin. His eyes are wide and doe-like. “I hurt Jimin,” he says, and he looks so stricken that Jimin feels his knees shake. If he had been standing, he’d probably have fallen.

“That’s right, Kook-ah,” Taehyung says. “You did, and so we were all really mad at you. We…we said a lot of things.”

“I deserved them,” Jungkook says. “Shit, Jiminie…”

“Don’t, it’s fine. I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me—it was a month ago. Tae, why are you doing this? Hasn’t he suffered enough for what he said?”

Taehyung looks taken aback. “That’s not what I’m trying to do! I don’t want Kookie to suffer. I just…it’s important that we don’t forget. That even though all of this happened, we need to talk about things. We can’t keep things bottled up. Kookie said something really mean to you without thought; and then, we all laid into him without thought, but then the accident happened before we could make up. For a month, I had to sit and live with the knowledge that the last things I’d said to one of my best friends had been insults—that he could die with me being mad at him and he wouldn’t know I’d already forgiven him. I had nightmares the entire time.”

“I’m sorry, Tae. I wish I’d woken up sooner so I could tell you not to worry,” Jungkook said. “I already forgave you for whatever you said to me and I figured you’d probably forgive me for what I’d said to Jimin by the next day, too. I knew because that’s what family does.”

“That’s right,” Namjoon said, nodding. “Family forgives everything; but that shouldn’t be a free pass to say or do whatever we want in the heat of the moment. Sorry, Kook-ah.”

“I really laid into you, huh, Kookie?” Hoseok sighs.

“It was fine,” Jungkook quickly says, laughing as much as his aching lungs would allow. “Actually, I was thinking I’d have to thank you for the instruction the next day. That one-on-one time did wonders for me—I don’t think I’ve ever danced such a clean routine. It’s a shame I didn’t get to do it on stage; might have been able to give you and Jimin hyung a run for your money as best dancer in BTS.”

Hoseok laughs, too, and the sound is enough to make Jungkook’s heart warm. “You’ll get to do it in no time, Jungkookie. You just have to get healthy.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, too, perhaps to apologize as well, but Jungkook is already shaking his head. “It’s fine. All of you. Everything you guys did and said, it wasn’t done in malice and I forgive you, all right? So please stop looking like a bunch of guilty children; I’m the maknae around here, aren’t I? Such immature hyungs…”

“Yah, respect your elders, brat,” Yoongi swats Jungkook’s leg and Jungkook yelps, startling the elder. “Shit, Kook—did I hurt you? I’m so…”

But then Jungkook starts to laugh. “Got you, hyung. Man, you’re all so whipped for me today…”

“I’m done with you,” Taehyung declares in disgust, flinging Jungkook’s hand down. “I’m going to help Jin in the kitchen. So much for being the serious one for a change…”

“You’re right, it doesn’t suit you,” Jin says. “Now get in here and start chopping already.”

“Now that our maknae is well in hand, should we go work on some stuff in the studio, Yoongi hyung?” Namjoon suggests. “You, too, Hoseokie. We need to work on a new cypher. Maybe we can spit a few bars about ungrateful brats coming back from the dead even more ungrateful…”

“Good idea.” Hoseok and Yoongi stand at once, heading for the studio with Namjoon, and just like that, Jungkook finds himself more or less alone with Jimin.

Despite his playfulness just a moment ago, Taehyung’s words echo in Jungkook’s head. We can’t bottle things up. We have to talk about things.

He remembers how insistent he was in keeping his feelings to himself with regards to Jimin, how much he didn’t want to mess things up for them or, god forbid, the whole group. He knows that there is a lot of potential for things to go wrong, but Taehyung is right. He’d almost died and Jimin wouldn’t have known how he felt. He had a right to know, didn’t he? Even if he didn’t feel the same way, even if it made things awkward for a while, they were family. They could work it out.

And there’s a part of him that remembers Jimin saying that he loved him; he knows it could have been a dream, that maybe it’s just his own wishful thinking, but the words seem so Jimin and the soft touch on his lips he may have imagined could have easily been his hyung’s lip against his own.

“Jiminie, can we go to my room now?” Jungkook asks, glancing at Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen.

Jimin glances at him curiously, concern furrowing his brow. “Do you need to rest? Are you in any pain? I swear to god, if you’re messing with me like you did Yoongi…”

“No, no—It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m not in any pain, not particularly. Just…I want to talk to you. Privately.”

Jimin chews his lip a moment before nodding and then he stands. Jungkook reaches up to get one of his arms around Jimin’s strong shoulders and with the other’s arm securely around his waist, they make their way to Jungkook’s room.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” Jin says as they pass by the kitchen, and Jimin might be imagining it but he thinks he sees Taehyung wink suggestively at him.

Jungkook is hit with nostalgia as he enters his room and it’s almost like a punch to the gut. He can’t believe it’s been a month since he’s been in here. As promised, his bed is already made and Jimin settles him down onto the comforter, even going so far as to place a couple of pillows under Jungkook’s feet to get some pressure off of Jungkook’s injured hip.

“Stop fussing already,” Jungkook says as Jimin goes to fluff his pillows. “Sit down. Please.”

Jimin mechanically does as he’s told and Jungkook immediately intertwines their fingers. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Jimin asks uncertainly, fiddling with Jungkook’s hospital bracelet. He’s still not looking in Jungkook’s eyes, so with his free hand, Jungkook moves to tilt his chin up a little.

“I’m fine, Jiminie,” Jungkook says, holding his gaze and Jimin’s blush is bright on his cheeks as their eyes meet.

He almost forgets to say, “It’s hyung to you, brat,” but he remembers at the last minute and Jungkook scoffs at the familiar admonition. His gaze is far too fond for the scoff to really bother Jimin, though.

“You’re so cute, hyung,” Jungkook says suddenly, placing extra emphasis on the title. “All short and blushing.”

“I thought you hated how short I was?” Jimin mutters, feeling as if he’s on a boat and it’s rocking beneath his feet.

“Of course I don’t hate it. How else could you fit so comfortably under my chin, hm?” Jungkook punctuates the statement, so familiar to Jimin, by pulling him down so that he’s resting beneath his chin, Jungkook’s arms wrapped tightly around him. It hurts the younger a little, but the comfort outweighs any pain he might feel. “You missed this, right? Me hogging the bed…”

Jimin clenches his eyes shut, hardly daring to breathe as Jungkook spoke. “Me holding you back…keeping you warm.” He squeezes him briefly and Jimin’s crying, he can already feel it. He isn’t sure what Jungkook is doing, where this is going, but this is what he’s been wanting for so long. He’s been desperate for it, desperate for Jungkook’s voice, his arms, everything. Jungkook reaches up a hand to brush some tears off Jimin’s cheeks. “I thought you said you were done crying over me?”

“I am, stupid Kookie, but you’re making it really hard on your hyung,” Jimin says. “Why are you doing this all of a sudden? Why are you saying these things?”

“Because,” Jungkook begins. “I wanted to tell you…”

But he hesitates. This is it, this is the moment. Don’t bottle things up. Have to talk about things.

“Spit it out already, Jeon Jungkookie,” Jimin whispers, and there’s something in his voice, something painful and a lot like wanting and it feels like they’ve had this conversation before, only it was different this time. Because Jungkook is awake, and he’s holding him, and this is really happening.

“I love you, too, hyung. I always have, and I always will. That’s why I was so mad at you that day; I was worried because you skipped breakfast, so scared I was losing you to that darkness again, and you know I’m bad with words, but I love you. Even when I was far away from you, just out of reach, I was thinking about you the whole time. I never stopped thinking about you. I came back for you, because of you, and I hope that I can make you happy.”

Jimin’s whole body sags with relief and he looks up quickly, two more teardrops falling from his eyes in quick succession, and then Jungkook is leaning down and they’re kissing, they’re kissing and he’s never felt so close before.

He never wants to let go.

“Don’t go,” Jimin says when they part. “Never again.”

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises. “Not without you.”