Work Text:
“What’s BTS?”
Those fateful words had propelled you into a world you would’ve suspected to be a part of a parallel universe if the days had not passed like usual and the picture on your screensaver had not disappeared, the texts you exchanged remaining in your SMS history and his sweet lilting voice continued to haunt your days through regular calls and spontaneous visits to your suite.
You were afraid to blink when you watched the dark-haired man smile at you, his eyes crinkling adorably as he bit his lip shyly.
You were utterly terrified at the idea that the past nine months had been a dream, a pleasant one at that, but the sorrow that would consume you would surely strike you dead.
If you had not been reassured by his words the night you finally managed to confess your fears, then the soft feeling of his plump lips against yours as he seemed to muster his courage and bashfully lean over the couch to kiss you, you would’ve chalked the whole year up to mere fantasies and girlish desire.
But no, you had been dating Park Jimin for nearly twelve months now and he never failed to set your heart aflame with anything and everything he said and did. He was two sides of the same coin, adorable and silly but somehow mysterious and sexy, with a body that he decided to seduce you with one night that eventually lead to immeasurable others, curling against yours in ways that have you gasping and squirming.
A smirk that left you breathless. A bright smile that left you warm and happy.
Yes, you and Jimin have been in a steadfast and loving relationship for nearly a year now. While it appeared to be smooth sailing for the most part, you had to admit there have been rocky times, close calls; moments when it seemed impossible to maintain a healthy relationship with one of the most sought for and famous member of an equally illustrious Korean boy bands fans from all over the globe worshiped, BTS practically a newfound religion of its own.
Especially under the consideration you were still a student, studying to graduate one of the best law schools in Korea. Scheduling time to spend quality time together was meticulously arranged and – sadly – more often than not consistently last-minute rescheduled by Jimin as opposed to yourself, although never for a personal reason. Idol life was difficult and demanding and you had always been understanding of his struggles.
You had found yourself drawing closer to the ebony-haired artist, rushing over in the early hours of the morning when he fought his demons, his insecurities clouding his thoughts and starving his core until you arrived with hot compresses and soothing touches. I’m sorry, he’d whisper as you stroked his dark tresses rhythmically. He buried himself in your chest as his body shuddered and his lip bled from the excessive amount of force he tugged his lower mouth with in an effort to refrain from letting his tears show.
Don’t ever apologize for being human, you’d answer sternly but softly. His breathing finally evened out and he slowly drifted to a peaceful slumber, snuggled close and you continued to cradle him in your lap, humming under your breath.
Park Jimin loves you. He tells you this one such night. He sits up, chocolate orbs shimmering with unshed droplets but burning bright as he holds your gaze steadily.
“I love you, Y/N,” he says quietly. He squeezes your hands as he waits patiently for your response. You blink rapidly, heart bursting as you whisper, “I love you too, Jimin.”
“I have loved you all this time. You know that, right? You must know that,” Jimin rasps, taking your hand and pressing it against his chest, his own heart pumping in a flitting pace as he breathes. He looks at you earnestly. “I promise to cherish you. I promise I’ll treat you right.”
“Please,” the dark-haired idol says softly. “Be mine.”
“Okay,” you say breathlessly. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he whispers against your lips as he bridges the gap and kisses you tenderly, running a tongue over your seams and the two of you engage in a fervent battle for dominance.
Jimin trails a series of open-mouthed kisses down the length of your slender neck. You arch your back as you press yourself closer to him, tilting your head to give him a wider expanse as you struggle to regulate your breathing.
“I love you,” he murmurs again before locking himself against you, his kisses deeper and harder as he leans over your body, pushing you gently into the mattress as you let out a soft moan.
“Jimin,” you gasp, fingers scrunching the fabric of his long-sleeved black shirt as you writhe beneath him.
“Y/N,” he groans, releasing your lips with an audible pop and resting his forehead against the curve of your neck as he tries to reel himself back in.
Needless to say, that was the first of the many nights the two of you were kept occupied by thoughts of each other, and it was a test as to see who would snap first.
Jimin had lost. He ravished you against the wall and blushed heavily as he stumbled over himself to apologize for his lack of manners the next morning, but you had been anything but disappointed. You glowed with pleasure. He would’ve died a happy man right there and then looking at the affectionately soft smile you gave him in response.
Despite the rollercoaster of emotions, the love between the two of you was undeniable and your bond resilient. Nothing could break the two of you apart.
You were destined for him. He just knew it.
His band mates were beyond ecstatic for him, knowing how good you were for him and taking a liking to you immediately when Jimin had first introduced you. You had a fiery passion, silver tongue, intelligence and kindness that put the sun to shame. Park Jimin had finally found the love the boys could only dream of and they did everything and anything they could to help the two of you, often sneaking him out to meet you during breaks and smuggling you in. BigHit had found out not soon after, however, and after numerous meetings with their board of directors and BangPD himself, they had issued you your own special admittance card, allowing you to freely drop in whenever you desired.
It was a milestone in your relationship and the eight of you had gone out for dinner to celebrate.
Everything seemed to settle after, a sort of lull that has you slightly suspicious. It was like the calm before the storm, something unsettling lingering but would not materialize for the life of you.
It revealed itself only weeks following the festivity.
“I’m really happy for you things are working out well,” your long-time companion says one afternoon, the two of you crowding around your work table in the middle of your living room, textbooks scattered around the carpet and loose papers crushed under the weight of the pillows on the couch.
“I sense a ‘but’ in that sentence,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
“But,” Ahri emphasizes, “How long can this continue for?”
“Is this realistic, is what I mean,” she amends at your puzzled look. “He’s an idol, with millions of followers, half of which are likely to go ballistic once they realize he’s taken. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
“I do,” you agree slowly. “We’ve talked about it and that’s the obvious reason as to why we’re keeping everything so tightly under wraps and taking every precaution possible to prevent leaks.”
“It won’t matter though, in the end,” Ahri says softly. Her cocoa irises contract as she looks at you sympathetically. “Even if the public doesn’t, how much longer can you keep up the charade? Don’t you want to hold his hand in public? Kiss him whenever and wherever you’d like? How realistic can such a closed relationship be?”
“What are you saying?”
“What I’m really asking is can you truly be happy like this? This might seem perfectly tolerable for the first couple of years, but it’ll wear on you quickly. How long can you endure this? Are you still going to be okay with never being able to declare him taken for the next ten years? To never be able to see him outside of the five minutes or three months out of the twelve when they’re in between work?” The strawberry-blonde asks you gently. “Can you truly be happy with Jimin when he’s a famous artist and you yourself are pursuing such a strenuous career of your own?”
“I know all of this,” you exhale, running hand through your chocolate tresses as you pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “And I don’t know the answer to that. I wish I could say yes without a doubt, but it’s been haunting me just as much as it’s been worrying you,” you admit grudgingly.
Ahri wraps an arm around your shoulder as she rubs your arm comfortingly.
“Just think about what you really want out of this,” she advises gently.
You give her a nod. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”
She drops her arm with a sad smile and the two of you return to your studies.
The topic isn’t broached again.
And she’s right. The rollercoaster takes a sharp turn and descends, a continuous plunge that doesn’t seem to have an end, the feeling of your heart in your throat now a constant cohort.
The comeback is in a week and Jimin seems to have disappeared into thin air. He doesn’t answer any of the texts you send, your daily morning and night messages dwindling upon the lack of response until you stop sending anything altogether. Somehow, you maintain contact with the remainder of the boys who, in contrast, text you regularly and keep you updated, insisting the dark-haired idol works harder than any of them, exhausted beyond belief every night, dropping dead as soon as he hits the bed. You don’t doubt that is the truth; Park Jimin pushes himself to the brink of insanity and still he drives further. You love him for his passion.
Instead, you ponder over Ahri’s argument. Uneasiness that twists in your stomach into tight knots of discomfort. You’ve always been afraid you’ll never be good enough for him; can a simple, studious but confident girl fit such a sexily innocent beautiful man of countless talents?
Who never loves himself the way he deserves to be loved?
Could you ever be enough?
Can you dare to believe you could be?
Your nights turn sleepless. Staring at the ceiling blankly, mind whirling, you find you’ve you eventually developed insomnia from the nightmares that more often than not plague you. Jimin is now hardly ever there to comfort you, to hold you during your darkest moments anymore, their September comeback looming more ominously than ever. The boys exerting themselves beyond belief, over the twelve hour limit management had set for them. Instead, you opted to visit as frequently as you could, dropping in with snacks, drinks and food during breaks, the members always turning to you with tired but happy beams upon seeing you, accepting your offerings gratefully.
Your uncertainties result in deep dark circles underneath your eyes and a weariness that seems to consume you. You don’t realize it’s that imminently conspicuous until Jimin takes notice despite his hectic schedule and he pulls you aside, wondering what’s wrong with a soft voice.
“Have you not been sleeping well?” he asks, eyebrows knitting as he thumbs your circles with a finger lightly and you merely shake your head, pushing his hand down gently.
“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Finals are coming up. It’s just stress. I’m more worried about you.” You trace the strong line of his jaw as the dark-haired idol breaks into a smile.
“I’m fine. Hobi-hyung has been working harder, honestly,” Jimin answers but you’re already shaking your head, lips pursed wryly.
“Everyone knows you’re always more invested than you think you are,” you say, stroking his damp cheek fondly. “I just wish you’d see it too.”
“What about you? Are you sure you’re okay?” he presses.
“I’m okay, Chim Chim.” Your smile is always genuine with him and he takes the hand resting against his face and turns your palm up to kiss it gently.
But you’re not and he knows it. He knows it but doesn’t push you. Jimin draws you in and cradles you in his arms as he kisses your head, body sweaty, his shirt clinging to him and he smells like masculinity and lavender. You sigh in contentment as you nuzzle his chest, his embrace warm and comforting. He holds you for a long time until Hoseok reluctantly calls him over to return to their practice.
Jimin releases you slowly and your eyelids flutter shut as he presses his lips against yours softly, moving against your mouth slowly as he breathes you in.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you too,” you whisper. You watch him go with unreadable eyes as he throws one last backward glance at you, amber orbs filled with concern. You give him a little shooing motion with a small smile. He looks mildly relieved, waving back at you before jogging back to the studio.
You notice the way he fits so perfectly with the boys who meld him easily into the group as they head towards the practice room, chatting cheerfully. Taehyung and Hoseok are teasing the ebony-haired mochi who ducks his head, slapping the former on the arm and scolding the latter. You imagine his cheeks are flushed but his eyes are bright, as they always are whenever you are brought up. Taehyung hugs Jimin tightly as they awkwardly penguin-waddle along, Jungkook mimicking him along the way, Jin’s signature windshield laughter ringing through the dorm.
You slip out the door before they can turn around and see you off.
You call him a few days after, their schedule now beyond packed, their album finished and ready to drop within the next few days, last minute details to work out as they prepped for their first stage of the season.
Jimin’s phone seems to be permanently absent, but you’re dreadfully surprised when he answers your call on the first ring.
“Jagi,” he says breathlessly as he picks up. “I’m really sorry, it’s been so busy lately. I can’t talk long, I snuck away when I heard the ringtone.”
“Hey,” you said softly. “I just wanted you to answer one question.”
“What is it?”
“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”
There is a short pause.
“Doing what I love, I hope,” he says slowly. “Singing and being a part of BTS has been such a big part of my life, it’s hard to imagine me without it, without them.”
“I see,” you answer thoughtfully.
“Ah, I need to go now,” he says apologetically and you hear the ringing shouts of the boys who are searching for their missing vocalist.
“Go,” you urge him. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Your support means everything to me.”
I’ll always support you, you think. Just not like this. Not anymore.
You know his line of work means everything to him, just as your passion fuelled your own. It’s unfair to ask any more from him. To ask anything at all, really.
But then is it fair to yourself, living this kind of life? With someone who’s under the scrutiny of the international music market, hatred bound to accumulate sooner or later, as soon as your relationship is exposed, at any given moment in time? How much would either of you have to suffer when it does? Because it’s no longer anif, it has always been a when. It’s unavoidable with his career and it could ruin you both.
You want this to end before you fall in love with him any deeper than this. Anything more than this is torture.
The comeback has passed and it is a few days following the concert. You attended, knowing it would be your last. Any benefits that came from your relationship with the BTS member will end once the night is over. You wanted to see him one last time in the VIP box, up closing, knowing you will never be able to attend another Bangtan performance again. His eyes never strayed from you. His winks and smirks, tongue teasing and body rolls were all for you. And you gave it your all, cheering and jumping in your place as you sang along with them, tears springing to your eyes as you watched him live the dream he’s always scared of losing.
The ring of the doorbell startles you as you make your way slowly to the door.
“Jagiya,” Jimin beams, wrapping you in his arms without hesitation as he presses his lips against your julgar.
“God, I missed you so much. It was driving me crazy, knowing you were there but I couldn’t touch you,” he groans, slanting his head as he kisses you deeply. You’re unable to resist, knees weak against the fervor the now-light-haired singer displays.
“Jimin,” you whisper, indulging in the butterfly kisses he offers you, caressing your lips softly before he draws away.
“I … I have to talk to you,” you hesitate. His eyebrows knit as he tilts his head in confusion. You hate the sheer amount of adorableness that emanates from him. You tug him towards the couch, sitting him down but remaining standing yourself.
“I think,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I think we should break up.”
Silence. Your clock ticks in the background and the tension begins to thicken.
His voice cracks. “W-why?”
“You deserve better,” you say, curling your fingers into a fist so he doesn’t see the way your hands are trembling. “We both do. We’re not sustainable. It’ll only bring greater heartbreak if we keep walking down this path. We don’t fit well together. It’s better this way.”
“Who gets to decide that? You?” Jimin is barely breathing, voice hoarse and anger rising in his tone.
“I know I’m being selfish,” you whisper, “But I want you to let go. It was beautiful while it lasted, but we can’t last forever. You know this too, in your heart.”
“Why?” Jimin rasps, and you angle your body away, turning from him, unable to bear looking at the broken gaze he must be sporting. It would shatter you too. “What brought this on? I thought we were fine, I thought everything was okay, w-what happened?”
You try and pull yourself together, gripping your elbows as you shake your head. “Nothing,” you say softly. “I just woke up one day to reality.”
“You said you didn’t care whether or not I was an idol,” he’s on his feet, standing dangerously close to your as he rests his hands on your curve of your hips. “Was that a lie? Was I only good for my fame and money?”
“No! Don’t be an idiot! I still couldn’t care less!” You burst out, whirling around with liquid eyes that glare at him furiously. “This isn’t about what you chose. This is about how much it means to you! BTS is everything to you and like hell I’m going to take that away from you! We’re risking so much by being together and I’m not going to let you throw everything you’ve worked for out the window because of me!”
“I don’t care,” he breathes, stepping closer. “I chose you and I would choose you again and again. No matter how many times it takes. You’re my everything. Yes, BTS is my family but you’re that and so much more. You’re different.”
“You’ll find someone,” you whisper, breath hitching as you touch his cheek lightly. “You’re so good, so beautiful. Someone will be right for you. I’m not.”
“Don’t do this,” Jimin is slipping. The cliff is hovering dangerously near and he’s deliriously padding near it. Hurtling towards it. He can no longer think rationally. He’s losing you. He’s losing the one thing in the world that meant more to him than his brothers and his music, his dancing. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you!”
Your lips are pressed in a thin line as you slip from his grasp, hands shaking as you grip the hem of your sweater, back turned to him once more as you put a few feet between the two of you.
“Y/N! Y/N, please!” His arms wrap around your torso, effectively stopping you in your tracks as he falls to his knees in front of you. He presses his face against the cotton material of your shirt.
“Please don’t leave,” Jimin whispers brokenly. “Please. I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you. Please.”
Your heart aches unbearably, feeling it splinter into a million, unsalvageable pieces and you can feel his tears stain your shirt, the way his lips tremble as he speaks.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I have to. This is the right thing to do. Before it’s too late and both of us fall into something we can’t reverse.”
“I don’t care what happens,” he pleads. “I just want you. I need you.”
“Please, Jiminie,” you whimper, clutching at your chest, above your heart that seems to have stopped beating altogether. “Don’t make this any harder.”
“I’ll do better,” he begs. “I’ll fix everything you’ve disliked about me, I-I…” A strangled sob bubbles from his throat.
“God, please,” Jimin moans, his body visibly shuddering as his tears soak into your sweater. “What have I done to deserve this? I just … I-I just w-wanted her…”
“Jimin, no!” You cry out, twisting around and throwing your arms around the golden-haired boy who looks and feels like a mess, tears falling in the earnest now, his fingers trembling as he grips you, pulling you inexplicably closer, chest heaving as he rocked on his heels.
“Please,” he mumbles against your skin. “Please, please, please … tell me this is a d-dream…”
“Oh, Jimin,” you whisper, drawing him tighter around you as you close your eyes, eyelashes wet. “I just want the best for you…”
“D-don’t!” Jimin chokes, clutching at you firmly. “Don’t just go ahead and decide that for me. That’s my choice! And I choose you! S-so please … stay with me. Please.”
You struggle to breathe properly, inhaling the sweet scent of your mochi boyfriend who is a blubbering mess beneath you, although you have to admit you’re in an equally bad shape.
“Please,” he murmurs, nuzzling you neck as he presses soft kisses down the column of your throat.
“Okay,” you whisper. His arms tighten around you and you feel new dampness coat your skin as his entire body quivers.
“Oh, thank God,” Jimin sighs faintly.
“God, I love you so much,” he buries his head on your shoulder as he shivers. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Chim Chim,” you say softly, lifting your head and molding your lips against his slowly, a tender apology in which he accepts eagerly, pressing a hand against your lower back as his other hand comes around to stroke your hair gently.
“I’m sorry,” you say breathlessly as you break away. His amber orbs glow in the dim lighting. “You’re the one for me,” Jimin says firmly, leaning forward to kiss you deeply, twisting his tongue around yours wickedly as you squirm lightly where you sit, straddling the golden-haired idol.
“The universe demands it,” Jimin murmurs against your lips. “You are me and I am you.”
“Always,” you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifts you easily in his arms, never breaking the connection as he walks towards the bedroom.
“Just let me love you,” he whispers.
And you do.