Work Text:
The lead up to his birthday was usually an exciting time for Jimin, but with their recent comeback and subsequent promotion period, there had been little time to think about such things as birthdays. It was very demanding on all of their schedules—it felt as if they couldn’t so much as breathe without wasting precious time, and honestly it was beginning to take a toll on the dancer’s mood.
He was already prone to being a perfectionist, but now more than ever, he felt as if he should have mastered all of this so that every perceived misstep or stilted movement was a personal insult to not only his own work ethic, but to the work of all the others who had come to depend on him. There wasn’t time for hand-holding or gentle praise to make it a little easier to bear either—everything was a whirlwind of activity and tempers were running short and hot.
“You missed the beat again, Jiminie,” Hoseok complained.
“Sorry, hyung,” Jimin gasped.
“I need you to get this down so you can help me teach the others. I can’t do it on my own, you know,” Hoseok added.
“I know, I’ll get it,” Jimin promised. He knew he was off today, but honestly he was running on empty. His days—all of their days, he reminded himself—were long, and stress-induced insomnia was making them even longer as he ended up tossing and turning in bed all night instead of getting the sleep he desperately needed. He had to make a conscious effort to eat in the mornings, too, because the less he slept the harder it was to force food into his oversensitive stomach.
He knew what he needed to feel better: time to just relax with the other members, maybe just cuddle and watch a movie or, better yet, indulge in some much-needed stress-relieving sex. But there weren’t enough hours in the day, and far too many cameras trained on them at the moment, so Jimin had to simply accept that he wasn’t going to get any of that any time soon.
It sucked.
“From the top, everyone,” Hoseok called to a chorus of groans, and the music began again.
One week until my birthday, Jimin reminded himself, and he poured himself into the dance.
*
Usually, vocal lessons were a blessing to Jimin, who was already fairly confident in his dance abilities but still a little insecure when it came to singing. So the next day at 2 P.M., Jimin was actually pretty eager to go see their vocal coach. But halfway through their lesson, Jungkook complained of a headache and sore throat and their manager said they should get him home and in bed.
As usual, taking care of their youngest fell to Jimin—the maknae was always especially stubborn when he got sick, refusing to eat or take any medicine, and of all of them Jimin was the only one who seemed capable of getting through to him when he was especially difficult. Namjoon or Yoongi could threaten him into taking the medicine, and Jin could coax him to eat, but only Jimin could get both in him.
And as Jungkook lay in Jimin’s bed next to him, feverish body pressed close to his, the elder couldn’t help but complain to the universe that this was not what he had in mind when he said he needed a cuddle.
Maybe I’ll get a proper cuddle on my birthday, he thought. Just six more days.
Sighing, he pressed a cool hand to Jungkook’s forehead and then pulled him a little bit closer to him in the bed, hoping that he could at least get a little sleep for now.
*
The next day, Jungkook was feeling better but whatever 24-hour-bug he’d had had of course transferred to Jimin, adding another layer of misery to his already tired body. Still, he dragged himself through their daily schedule as best he could with a probably-unhealthy amount of cold medicine until he found himself in Yoongi’s studio at half-past seven in the evening, laying on the couch while Yoongi had him listen to samples.
“You look like shit,” Yoongi said after the third non-committal response he’d gotten from the younger.
“Gee, thanks, hyung,” Jimin muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Just what I wanted to hear on my death bed.”
Yoongi snickered. “Don’t be a baby,” he said. “You’re not dying.”
“Feels like it,” Jimin complained.
“Wanna stop for the night?”
Yes. “No, I’m all right. Let’s go again.”
Five more days. I can handle five more days, right?
*
But with four days until Jimin’s birthday, Namjoon and Jin got into an argument about something ridiculous—apparently Namjoon had accidentally broke Jin’s favorite hand-mirror—and the two refused to so much as look at each other for the rest of the day.
Jimin, always the peacekeeper, kept trying to get them to make-up. This naturally resulted in both of them being mad at him, sure that he was taking the other’s side, and in frustration, Jimin ended up telling them to sort out their own messes and stomped into his room, slamming the door behind him.
He threw himself onto the bed and screamed into the pillow. When he was done, he felt no better than before—except now he had aggravated his sore throat again, which did nothing to improve his sullen mood.
Eventually, Jimin managed to pull himself out of his pity-party long enough to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. On his way, he heard Namjoon and Jin engaged in earnest conversation in Jin’s bedroom, and through the crack, he saw Namjoon running a soothing thumb over the back of Seokjin’s hand. Their gazes were nothing but loving as they gazed at each other, and while Jimin was happy that they had made up, a part of him couldn’t help but feel as if he should get a little bit of that love, too.
His turn would come, he told himself firmly, then continued on his way.
*
The rest of the week was uneventful—though eventful at the same time, thanks to their packed schedules—and as the day before his birthday finally arrived, Jimin finally started to feel that tingle of anticipation. He knew that he wasn’t going to get the day off—days off were a mythical beast as far as he was concerned—but usually his bandmates would at least do something for the cameras and then something sweet and intimate in the privacy of their dorm or whatever hotel they were staying at afterwards, so he was looking forward to it.
His anticipating thoughts were interrupted when Taehyung draped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed him in a back-hug. “Looking forward to tomorrow?” the younger said.
Jimin nodded, leaning back into the gesture. “Yep!”
“I can’t wait, either. It’s been a while since we’ve been in Japan together,” he added.
Jimin had forgotten that they would be having a concert in Japan on his birthday this year. It added another level of excitement to it—Japan was easily one of his favorite places and it was going to be a huge concert in a massive stadium.
He could hardly wait. Just one more day, he thought eagerly.
*
On the morning of his birthday, Jimin awoke bright and early so that they could catch their flight to Japan. The others were much slower to get started—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—and so they were running late. He told himself that that was why none of them wished him a happy birthday as they hurried out of the door and into their van.
And when they didn’t say it even during the trip, he figured they were just still half-asleep. They would remember, he told himself. They would definitely remember.
After they landed in Tokyo, they were bustled hurriedly to their hotel. There wasn’t really a chance for any of them to talk, fans reaching for them and calling out their names as the staff tried to keep them moving along at a quick pace.
Jimin was at least gratified to hear the fans calling out happy birthdays to him, but if any of the members heard, they seemed to ignore it and the certainty that his birthday had been forgotten settled firmly into the pit of his stomach. Or worse: maybe they remembered but they just didn’t care.
It hurt.
Of course he knew there were more important things than his birthday; their lives were extremely busy and stressful, and they all had personal issues that they struggled with every day amid the crushing responsibility of being idols. But Jimin had thought that they were a family; he thought that he had done his part to help shoulder some of the other members’ burdens: teaching choreography with Hoseok, nursing Jungkook back to health whenever he got sick, helping Yoongi in the studio, trying to reconcile Namjoon and Jin earlier that week. And even if that hadn’t been enough for the other members, he’d thought that at least Taehyung, his best friend, his soulmate, had remembered. He seemed to the day before, though now that Jimin thought about it, he never mentioned his birthday—just that he was excited about being in Japan.
Maybe he had been stupid to think his birthday was anything worth celebrating when they had so much else going on. Maybe it was selfish of him to want at least some acknowledgement from the six boys he loved above all else just because he was a year older today. And really, birthdays were so stupid, so he shouldn’t care. Why would you celebrate being one year older? It was another year closer to their eventual disbandment, to compulsive military service, to wrinkles and potbellies and losing his hair; another year closer to death.
So why, then, did it hurt so much when, even after they reached the hotel, not a single one of his bandmembers spared him even a glance or a smile, let alone a happy birthday?
He hurried out of the van as soon as they were stopped, nearly pushing Namjoon down in his hurry to escape the suddenly confining space. He took the single room key from their manager without even asking the others if it was okay, leaving them to sort out pairings for the rest of the rooms amongst themselves.
When he reached the room, he made a beeline for the bed and curled into it just before the tears started falling from his eyes. The sobs were loud and bitter, containing all the frustration of the past week from hell, and he pulled one of the long pillows against him so that he could bury his face in it and pretend it was Taehyung or Jin or literally any of the people he had come to depend on when times were tough over the past few years—the people that were the reason for his tears right now.
He cried until he was utterly spent, falling asleep with tear-tracks still on his cheeks and his dirty travel clothes still on his body.
A soft knock on the door awakened him a few hours later. “Jimin-ssi? We’ve got a magazine shoot before the concert, so please wash up and meet us in the lobby,” came the voice of their manager.
“Yes, manager-nim,” Jimin called, voice stuffy as he tried to wipe the stickiness off his face. He made his miserable way to the bathroom and washed up carefully, avoiding looking at his own reflection until he had finished showering. Only then did he feel brave enough to face himself, and as he took in his pale complexion and damp hair, he tried on a shaky smile.
It didn’t matter that he still felt like shit; the day had to go on, and his fans were counting on him to be at his best even when he wasn’t. Confident that his mask was comfortably in place, he dressed quickly and made his way down to the lobby.
Unlike that morning, he was the last person to arrive, but just like that morning, there were no words shed in the van as they made their way to the shoot. Jimin didn’t know why he had expected anything different.
The others beat him out of the van this time, each of them heading to a styling noona so that they could be fitted into nice suits and make-up and their hair styled so that it looked fluffy and soft, rather than the fried mess it was in actuality. Jimin dozed in the chair while his noona worked on making him pretty, but when he opened his eyes, he realized he was the last one to be finished. There was no sign of the other boys anywhere.
“Where’s everyone at?” Jimin asked quietly.
“They went ahead to the set,” his noona said, putting one last touch of spray in his hair. “There. All done. You can join them now.”
“Thank you,” Jimin said, standing and giving a bow to her. Two staff members arrived then, flanking him on either side as they led him through the crowded space to a door in the back. He didn’t know what the theme of the shoot was, but he was sure the photographer would guide him once he got to the set and he was looking forward to the distraction of work.
But as soon as the door opened, Jimin realized it wasn’t a typical set. In fact, it was dark in there. “What the…?” Jimin began.
The light came on then, and all at once there were shouts of ‘Surprise!’ and ‘Happy birthday!’
Jimin stumbled back in shock, not quite believing what he was seeing, but the staff members that had escorted him into the room caught him and pushed him forward, towards the rest of the members who were all grinning.
Jungkook held a massive bouquet of flowers, and Jin had a cake that Yoongi was trying to light. Taehyung hurried over and pressed a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Happy birthday, hyung.”
“I…what…but…I thought you all forgot…” Jimin began, feeling the tears well in his eyes again. He willed them not to fall, not wanting to undo the styling noona’s careful work, but it was a lost cause.
“After everything you do for us?” Jungkook said. “Don’t be stupid, hyung. We just wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Well, it worked,” Jimin sniffled, though his smile was firmly in place now.
Yoongi finally got the cake lit and Taehyung pushed Jimin into a chair at the center of the room so that they could begin singing. Jin beamed as he brought the cake over, his voice carrying over all the others and Namjoon moved so that he could put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, squeezing good-naturedly. The tears were a constant stream as Jungkook pushed the flowers into his hand, and when Jimin finally blew out the candle on the cake, there was a loud cheer around the room. Hoseok was the leader of that, doing a ridiculous dance to show his appreciation for Jimin, and the younger couldn’t help but giggle at his hyung’s antics.
Honestly, Jimin couldn’t think of a better birthday present (except maybe one thing, though he didn’t dare voice that wish aloud in their present company).
“If you think this is great, just wait until after the concert,” Namjoon whispered in his ear huskily, the words disguised by the celebrations going on around them. “We’ve all got more surprises in store for you tonight.”
Jimin’s cheeks brightened; it seemed he was going to get his birthday wish after all.