Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oi, Chimchim, you alright?”

Jimin ran his hand through his hair, glancing behind him to where the voice came from. It was Taehyung. “Wha?”

“You’re staggering around like you’re drunk.”

“What? No. I’m good,” Jimin said. It was true… well, sort of anyway. He felt a bit dizzy, but he was fully in the zone, his mind on autopilot. It happened a lot when he was dancing. He didn’t allow it to happen a lot in performances, but rehearsals were fine. When he knew a routine well enough he could simply shut off his mind and let the music carry his body. It was nice for days like today, when he felt particularly exhausted.

He could feel his best friend’s eyes burning holes into the back of his skull, so he forced himself out of his mental state and attempted to refine his movements, making sure his steps were sharp and precise. Taehyung worried too much, and while Jimin knew it was because he cared, it could get annoying.

“Time’s up, guys,” their manager called from slightly off the stage. “Head to hair and makeup.”

“Didn’t sleep well again?” His makeup artist was brushing foundation into his skin with a practiced hand. A part of him liked her; they typically got along well and she was fantastic, generating admiration for his smokey eye among thousands of fans, but sometimes she dug a bit too deep into his personal life.

“I’m nervous,” he said, staring straight forward at the mirror.

“Liar. You don’t get nervous on stage,” she said with a grin. “Close your eyes.”

He did, letting her brush the light liquid makeup into the bags under his eyes which had no doubt been the origin of her original comment.

“I do so. And I’m always nervous the day before a show,” he insisted, forcing his lips into an over dramatic pout.

“Jimin, if that were true, you’d be nervous half your life. Save your breath, we both know it’s not true,” again her tone was light, but he was becoming annoyed.

“Fine, I didn’t sleep well. What do you want me to say?” He knew he was coming off rough, but he couldn’t help it. It was the truth; he was exhausted. He’d been up all night practicing in the studio. When his body finally gave out on him, he’d moved into the vocal closet, as he liked to call it. What was the point in trying to sleep when you knew it wasn’t going to happen?

“I’m just concerned about you, hun,” she said. “These circles under your eyes seem to be getting worse by the week.”

“Well it’ll probably just get worse as the promotions go on. Then as soon as we’re done here, we’re finishing the next album and heading off on tour.”

“Sometimes I think the schedules they put you kids through are cruel.”

He chose not to respond. He was done. Even if he agreed, how was it going to help?

It wasn’t. There was no point.

The tension between them drained after a short time, and he let his mind drift as he sat in the chair while his hair was styled. She was going for straight locks today with less volume. It looked classy and would match his outfit well, but it made him feel a bit deflated. He typically liked the way straight hair narrowed his face, but lately he felt like it just made him look gaunt and half dead.

He’d lost weight in the past months. A lot of it.

And he couldn’t be prouder.

He’d been relentlessly dieting since spring, and with Christmas quickly approaching, he could almost call it a year’s worth of the most effort he’d ever put forth. It was hard; he was always hungry and he had less energy, though a part of him wanted to attribute that to his age as well. He looked thinner than he ever had. His short limbs were starting to appear less so when paired with a narrow torso. He couldn’t chop his bone structure down, but he could minimize the tissue attached to it. And he had. He’d lost nearly 15kg since he’d started.

It had been a struggle. But the hardest part hadn’t been the hunger or lack of energy. He was too close with the other members for them to not notice his eating habits, not that they didn’t have their own restrictions, but they mom’d him far worse than his makeup team. Taehyung was probably the worst, followed closely by Namjoon and Yoongi . He knew they cared, but they just couldn’t understand.

“Yo Jimin! You ready?”

He looked up, knowing the voice before he made eye contact with his leader. Namjoon’s strawberry blonde hair was parted on the side and fluffed up off his face, a section of it clipped back making him look extraordinarily pretty. Namjoon was always gorgeous, but it wasn’t usually a role he typically played. Usually he went from the lead aggressive rapper to aegyo with the flip of a switch, much like Yoongi and J-hope.

It left him feeling less than adequate; but instead, flat and dull. He would never place the blame on Namjoon. God knew that their leader would both sell his soul and take a bullet at the same time for any of his members, but it didn’t make it any easier being next to someone so beautiful. But as it wasn’t Namjoon or any of the other members’ fault, Jimin could only do one thing.

He could keep trying to be better.

Tonight however, he wasn’t succeeding and he knew it. All that was left was for him to go out and perform to the best of his ability and hope that he’d be able to round out the group. If nothing else, he could make the others look better physically, right? It was always easier to see someone’s beauty when comparing them to a toad, right?

“Good to go, hun,” his makeup artist said, patting him on the shoulders.

Jimin glanced in the mirror at her, hating how far apart her hands were on his frame. It made him feel huge.

But now wasn’t the time, so he buried the thought.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding as grateful as he possibly could in his current headspace, hopping off the chair.

“Did you eat?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, earlier,” he lied.

If there was one thing he hated more than the act of eating itself, it was eating before a show. It made him feel bloated and heavy, not to mention guilty. The hunger pangs that burned through his abdomen felt good while performing. It was motivating and made him feel better. He’d resisted the urge, and by keeping his stomach empty, he’d done absolutely everything he could to minimize his waistline. It was something to be proud of.

He felt his brother’s eyes linger on him like they so often did, but he knew better than to say anything right now. He’d made the mistake before and Jimin had ending up having a meltdown, ruining his make up, his motivation, and his focus. It had not been a good music show, and Namjoon hadn’t brought anything up before a show since. In fact, none of the other members had. He had a sneaking suspicion that Namjoon had told the other members to keep their thoughts to themselves until after the shows.

Jimin appreciated it. He had enough on his mind as it was.

~*~*~*~*~**~*~

The stage lights felt brighter than usual.

That was the first thing Jimin noticed when they filed onto the stage as the music started playing.

The second was that the fog machine seemed to be on overdrive.

Between the two observations, he was surprised he was able to see at all. To make matters worse, his contacts were bothering his eyes.  

No one else seemed bothered though, as Jungkook sang the opening line, his powerful vocals filling the stadium, the fluidity of his voice radiating into every fiber of Jimin’s being. Damn was he ever on point tonight.

If only Jimin could say the same.

His head spun slightly, aching from the crown of his head. Between that and the brightness around him it made him feel like he was hungover. He’d made that mistake once, with Taehyung’s 19th birthday being the day before the major year end show. He’d never gotten drunk again the night before a show. It had been a brutal lesson, and one he’d heard about quite vocally from their manager.

His first line approached, and he’d never been so grateful for the backup vocals in all his life. He’d managed to get the sound out, but it felt hollow and almost transparent. What was going on?

He took several deep breaths as he danced, forcing his second line out with more power, this time a harmony with Taehyung, and it felt better.

As the song went on, he settled in, but he still didn’t feel right. The extra effort it was taking to sing was taking a toll on his body, and he was starting to feel light headed, a bit like he had earlier that day when his best friend had asked him if he was alright.

He breathed hard at the end of the song as the lights went down, but then snapped himself back into focus, quickly getting into position for the second song. This one had much more demanding choreography and he was front and center. He shook his head hard and quickly before the lights came back up, forcing himself not to squint as the light burned his eyes. His head began to pound, but he pressed on. He’d had headaches before while performing.

Two more songs.

He could do this.

But then he remembered the flip toward the end of this song and he started to worry. Was he going to be able to safely pull that off? He wouldn’t be quite as concerned if he wasn’t flipping over top of J-Hope.

And then he was falling.

And everything went black.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t sure if he completely lost consciousness, but suddenly people were calling his name.

“Jimin?”

“Jimin!”

“JIMIN CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Jimin, wake up!”

Then people were touching his face and his first thought was that they were going to screw up his makeup. He felt a hand clasp his jaw, and he reached up to bat it away, but pain seared through his arm, from his shoulder and into his collarbone, his right pectoral muscle, and all down his arm.

Now he was definitely awake.

He grasped his arm, rolling over protectively on it, but this only resulted in more pain as he crushed the limb under his body.

He felt a cry escape his throat, and then hands were on him.

“Jimin, are you ok?”

“Don’t move him, he’s hurt.”

“Jimin, where does it hurt?”

He just wanted everyone to shut up, but he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts. His teeth were clenched in pain and he dug his nails into the flesh of his tricep.

“Someone call an ambulance.”

Ambulance?

Something about the word triggered him and his eyes shot open.

He was lying on the floor in what looked like a hallway. The lights were bright - too bright. It made his head hurt. His manager was crouched in front of him and they were  surrounded by several other crew members. At least they were blocking some of the light. But where were the rest of the group? Where was Taehyung? And Yoongi and Namjoon?

Then it hit him.

They had been performing. He’d fallen… and…

“The performance!” He shot up, but immediately regretted it as a fresh wave of pain wracked the right side of his body.

“Jimin, sit still. Don’t move.” His manager’s voice was demanding, harsh, really. It wasn’t like him at all.

“Wha-”

“You fell on stage. How’s your head?”

He had to think about the question, having forgotten about the headaches earlier. It seemed like forever ago. He felt dizzy and cloudy, like he couldn’t make out his thoughts properly.

“Spinning,” he admitted. He didn’t have it in him to lie right now. Did he really just faint on stage? He must have, right? He had no memory of leaving the stage…

The trip to the hospital was horrible, as he might have expected. Luckily they allowed him to go alone and he’d left before the others came off stage. He had mixed feelings on the matter. He wanted his friends, his brothers, his family, but at the same time he didn’t want to worry them. For now, he was content with being alone. The last thing he wanted to was to stress or worry them further.

That only lasted however until he found himself in a bed with an IV in his wrist, a blood pressure cuff around his left arm and his right arm in a sling. When he came in they’d immediately diagnosed him with a dislocated shoulder, but they refused to reduce it right away because his blood pressure was so low.

“Your pulse is through the roof trying to compensate for your blood pressure, which I imagine is due to lack of fluids,” the nurse told him as though she was scolding him for failing a test. “We need to get it back up or your body’s stress response might cause you to faint again when we fix your shoulder.”

They’d taken away his clothes and helped him change into an awful pale blue hospital gown, stabbed him with the largest needle he’d ever seen, along with several smaller ones, then left him alone in a bed surrounded by curtains. It was then that he found himself wishing that someone had come with him. He didn’t even have his phone as they had rushed him out of there so fast.

He felt so helpless, lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed with the most pathetic excuse for a blanket he’d ever seen, freezing cold with nothing to distract him from the pain. They’d given him two pills when he’d arrived, but they hadn’t helped. They’d asked him to rate his pain on a scale of zero to ten, and he’d given them a six, but he was regretting that now. It was habit to lie about the pain he was in, but here in the emergency room, no one was judging him for his strength anymore. He tried to pull his blanket closer, but it didn’t help.

He choked back a sob, wrapping his left arm around himself and wondering if he was just emotional because of the pain.    

He had no idea how long it had been since he left the stage, but the others had to be done performing, right? Weren’t they worried? True they had to attend the ending of the show, but would it be a huge deal if even one of them left?

He mentally kicked himself.

He’d already left, and he felt awful for it. Not only had he left and not returned to the stage, he’d apparently fainted in front of hundreds of people. What must they be thinking? Were they worried? Were they judging him? Did he look weak now? He certainly felt pretty pathetic for it…

And like that, the guilt and shame took over.

He was supposed to be a highly trained performer and dancer, yet he didn’t even have the stamina to make it through two songs? What the hell had happened to him?

By the time the nurse returned, he was struggling to keep the lump down in his throat and the tears from leaving his eyes. Twice now he’d had to tilt his head back to keep them from falling, but he was hanging in there.

“How’s the pain?” She asked, a chart in her hands.

“Not good,” he admitted.

“Worse?”

“Yes,” Jimin replied, honestly.

“I’ll get you something else,” she sighed, as though it was a bother.

He didn’t reply. He let her go and leaned back, trying to force himself to relax. The more his body tensed, the more it hurt.

Did he deserve this? Was this his punishment for being so weak? So useless?

He couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed… failed so badly.

The nurse returned shortly after with two syringes in hand. He cringed inwardly at the sight and she definitely caught it.

“Don’t worry, no more needles,” she said, finally taking pity on him, or at least it appeared that way. She tore open an alcohol swab and wiped what looked like some kind of connection on his IV tubing, just above his wrist. “I know the giant needle sucked, but at least we won’t need to poke you anymore.” She took opened the first syringe and connected it to the port and slowly injected a volume of fluid into the IV.

“Feels ok?” She asked.

He nodded, watching as she unhooked and connected the next syringe. This one she injected more slowly, measuring carefully as she went.

“Let’s see how that works. It’ll be faster than the pills you had earlier.”

She was right. It was only a couple of minutes before he felt a difference. It made him feel more relaxed as well, like his body was slowing down on him. Exhaustion began to creep up on him, and he felt like he wanted to go to sleep.

“Gotta stay awake for me, ok? Your blood pressure is going up, so the doctor will be by soon to fix that shoulder.” She offered a warm smile, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve it. Her cold demeanor had passed, but he had no idea why. It felt unnatural now.

“So tell me,” she began, lifting up the bag at the top of his IV stand, “do you know why you might have fainted?” She didn’t make eye contact, but he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“No?” He asked, feeling like this conversation was heading in a direction he didn’t like.

“When you came in, you know your blood pressure was extremely low. Do you know what causes that?”

Do I look like a doctor?

“No.”

“In a young, healthy individual such as yourself, it’s usually because of dehydration. Does that sound like it might be reasonable?” She had pulled what looked like a spike from his nearly empty IV bag and connected it to a new, full bag that was already hanging on the pole.

“I guess so? I’ve been practising and performing all day,” he said, feeling the frustration creep into his words.

“I see.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but a man, apparently the doctor, pulled the curtain aside and entered the room.

If he thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to the reduction itself. The doctor physically manipulated the head of his arm back into the socket of his shoulder, and he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. At least it happened fast. The joint felt a sense of relief being back in its proper position, but the pain was nearly unbearable, and his entire body was tense as he struggled to keep from falling forward.

The nurse had lowered the head of his bed a bit so he could lie down, then given him a bag of ice for his shoulder. The doctor then discussed with him what happened, reiterating a lot of what the nurse had already said, adding that his blood work showed low electrolytes, dehydration and signs of impaired nutrition. It was then that he changed his mind again, becoming thankful once more that he was alone. He was an adult; the others didn’t need to hear this. Living so closely with them meant very little privacy, and they definitely didn’t need to be around for this.

Another hour and they finally released him with strict orders that he wear the sling for at least three weeks, then follow the directions of the physical therapist he was supposed to schedule an appointment with.

He had no idea where he was going, deciding that if he was stuck he’d just call a cab, but he found himself face to face with his exhausted looking manager as he stepped out into the patient waiting room. He was going to ask why he hadn’t come in, but he decided against it.

“Hey,” he said, standing up from his chair, knocking over a cup of coffee which revealed itself to be empty. How long had he been there? “What did they say?”

“Dislocated shoulder,” Jimin said, feeling exhausted once again.

“And?”

“Apparently I fainted because I was dehydrated,” he replied, glancing away. “Please, hyung, can we save the lectures for tomorrow?”

His manager sighed, eyes trained on him while Jimin avoided his glance.

“Sure,” he finally said, gently placing his hand on Jimin’s good shoulder.

They stopped at the pharmacy to pick up the prescription the doctor had given him then headed back to the dorm. The lights were on upstairs, indicating that at least someone was still up. Jimin wished they weren’t. He didn’t want to explain, he didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to sleep. He had a feeling it was going to be difficult. He felt the pain getting worse again and his mind was swimming.

“Make sure you get something to eat, k?”

“I will,” Jimin said, climbing out of the car with some difficulty. He couldn’t even open the door properly with his right arm immobile as it was, and somehow he knew this was going to be the beginning of a long three weeks.

He let himself into the house, and quickly found himself face to face with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jin. Great, all three of his Moms at once.

“CHIMCHIM!” Jin exclaimed, looking as though he was going to throw himself at Jimin, but stopped himself at the last second as he saw Jimin’s injury.

“Oh my GOD! Are you ok? What the hell happened?” Namjoon demanded.

Yoongi was quiet, but he helped Jimin remove his jacket, taking care not to jar his arm.

“I dislocated my shoulder,” he said, attempting to shrug his good shoulder, but feeling the pain across his entire upper body. He kept himself from wincing, but only just. All he wanted was to get upstairs to the privacy of his own bedroom.

“I mean like… did you trip and hit your head? Or did you just faint?”

“The doctor said I probably fainted…” He wasn’t sure why he was telling them this. He knew they were going to throw a fuss.

“Jimin!” All three of them at once.

“Can I sit down?” He asked, raising a hand to his forehead. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“Yes,” Namjoon said, stepping out of the way and ushering him into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?”

“Honestly? I just want to drink some water and go to bed,” he said. But a realization hit him. “Wait, the show… what happened?” He looked up at his hyungs.

Yoongi grinned at him, and Jin turned around. “Another win,” the oldest said, handing the glass trophy to him.

“Wow, good job guys,” he said, feeling the excitement creep up. It was like it was easing the stress of everything that had happened tonight.

“You might want to send out a tweet,” Namjoon said. “The Armys are really worried about you.”

He took a deep breath. He didn’t think he could do it tonight.

“I’ll do it,” Namjoon quickly said.

“Can you please? I’ll do something in the morning…”

“Yeah. What else can we do to help?” Jin asked.

“Just… make sure I don’t fall down the stairs on the way to my room.”

“You got it,” Jin said.

“Here,” Yoongi handed him a tall glass of water.

“Need anything else?” Jin asked.

“No. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

He managed to escape upstairs, but something still stirred in him. Something was bothering him.

His phone was on his nightstand and the duffel bag he’d taken to the show with him that day was on the floor next to it. He set his water down and pulled his pills out of his pocket, staring at the bottle and wondering if he was even going to be able to open the lid.

Fuck this sucked.

What he really wanted right now was a shower… but he decided it might be more trouble than it was worth. Everything still hurt so much that he couldn’t fathom trying to wash his hair let alone trying to get his shirt off.

Nope.

He ruled that option out as quickly as it came to mind and climbed onto his bed instead.

He heard a couple of doors in the hall close and assumed the others were going to bed as well. It had been a long day.

But where was Taehyung? Wasn’t he worried? Was he already asleep?

The entire time he’d been at the hospital he’d been half waiting for his best friend to show up, panting and out of breath. But he hadn’t. So surely he would have been at the door waiting for him to come home? Nope. And now there was still no sign of him.

A part of him thought he should go knock on his door, but the room next to him was silent. He was probably sleeping, right?

He didn’t even have a message from him on his phone.

Maybe something happened to him too? Perhaps he was sick? Maybe he went to sleep early because he wasn’t feeling well. No, the others definitely would have told him. At least, he hoped they would.

Knock knock knock

Speak of the devil .

Only Taehyung knocked at his door in that rhythm.

“Come in,” he said, glancing up.

The door opened slowly, revealing the sight of his closest friend. Something settled inside him, and he felt his lips curl up into a smile. He felt better knowing that Tae was indeed healthy and not sick or suffering some other ailment.

But Taehyung didn’t move. He stood in the doorway, his swollen eyes framed by his large wiry glasses, his hair a mess, and his face looking exhausted to the point that he couldn't even look worried. He was wearing a pair of heather gray sweatpants and his favourite cream coloured white hoody. He had that look about him that he was trying to hide from something. Whenever Tae was upset, he felt the need to dress in the largest, comfiest clothing available to him and drown himself in a nest of blankets. It was how he made himself feel secure. Jimin had a feeling he’d just crawled out of that very nest.

“Are you ok?” Jimin asked, standing up from his bed, bracing his arm.

Taehyung’s reddened eyes jumped to Jimin’s sling and his deadened expression softened slightly. He sighed and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Shit, Jiminie,” he said, moving towards him, eyes taking in his appearance, hands gently reaching for him. His best friend’s beautiful eyes locked with his, and Jimin felt like the other could see through everything. He probably could; he always did. He wanted to think that his friend’s eyes were so swollen and puffy because of his contacts; he didn’t typically tolerate them well for long periods of time. But he was fairly certain that wasn’t the only thing causing it.

“I was so worried…” Taehyung said, wrapping his right arm around Jimin’s left side, carefully touching his bad arm. “I wanted to come to the hospital with you, but they wouldn’t let me.”

Well that answered that question. Jimin let out a quiet breath, deflating himself further. He felt awful for worrying him. For worrying all of them. They didn’t deserve that, equally as much as he didn’t deserve their concern.

Because it was his own fault. And he knew it.

Chapter Text

“Jimin, did you eat?” Taehyung asked, flipping his silver hair out of his eyes, something he rarely did. Tae liked to hide behind his hair. He gave off this aura of confidence, but really he was just a kid hiding behind hours of hair and makeup meant to make him look stronger than he really was.

“No,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to his arm. His shoulder was killing him again. He had no doubt that the drugs given to him in the emergency room had worn off. “I don’t know if I can stomach food right now.”

Taehyung sighed, letting his hair fall back into his eyes.

“Jimin, I think you need help,” he finally said.

“What do you mean? I just left the hospital…” He was playing stupid and he knew it. They’d had snippets of this conversation before, but his mind was too exhausted to put much thought into it right now.

“I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Taehyung’s voice cracked on the last word, and his hands were covering his face.

“Tae?” Ok, so the crying was new.

Had he done something worse than he thought? Jimin was confused. He let his knees buckle as Taehyung fell to the floor, squatting with his head in his hands.

“Tae, what’s wrong? I don’t understand.” He put his good arm on his friend’s shoulder, trying to soothe him, running his hand into Taehyung’s hair and eventually pulling him close.

“Jimin, I don’t know what to do…” His words were little more than a whisper, and Jimin was surprised he could even make them out.

“What are you talking about? Don’t know what to do about what?” He kept his arm wrapped around Taehyung’s head as the other buried his face in his chest as he fell onto his knees. Finally he pulled back, and eyes that swam with tears locked once more with Jimin’s.

“About you!” His eyes went wide, his face desperately wild. It was like he was at the end of a battle that Jimin hadn’t even started fighting.

It caught him completely off guard, and he felt like he was literally going to fall backwards. He nearly did, but Taehyung managed to grab his good arm. It hurt regardless, and he crumpled forward, clutching his wounded arm.

Taehyung did what he always did, no matter what. He unconditionally loved Jimin, and he always put him first. Taehyung looked like he was going to burst into tears again, but he still grabbed Jimin, steading him and making sure he was ok.

And now Jimin felt like crap.

“I don’t get it…” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“Jimin… I know why you fainted today. You know why you fainted today.”

“What?” He asked, finally leaning against the wall, attempting to steady himself.

Taehyung retracted his hand. “You’re not eating. You’re not taking care of yourself! You overwork yourself and you don’t sleep. You could have been seriously injured today! You were injured… look at you!” He was trying to yell; Jimin could tell, but his voice lacked conviction and tears poured down his cheeks.

Jimin wished he’d yell. He wished Taehyung would be legitimately mad at him. He wished he’d yell and scream and hit him… because that would be so much better than the disappointment so vividly displayed across his best friend’s face. If Tae was mad, Jimin could be mad back. But right now he had no right. No right, and he knew it. And he felt a thousand times worse.

“Imagine if you’d fainted thirty seconds later during your flip… you could have been hurt so much worse… and you could have hurt Hoseok. You’re a fucking adult, Jimin!” The last line sounded more angry. Like it was something Taehyung felt like he could shout.

Jimin could feel his heart racing, his body and his mind becoming defensive. He knew his friend was right, but he also knew that it wasn’t all for naught.

“It’s easy for you to say, Tae! You’ve got the perfect body. You’re so slim and attractive! And you’re so good at everything you do!”

“Jimin, we share fucking clothing! You’re the same size as me!”

“But you’re taller and better proportioned. You look so fucking good all the time. Even now you look fucking gorgeous… without even trying. I have to work so much harder! I have to perform to get attention. I can’t just stand there and look good!”

“Don’t even start! Even if that were true, which it definitely is not , you’re an amazing singer and dancer!” Taehyung’s voice was hollowed with tears and it hurt to hear. It felt like each word was stabbing him.

“I can’t sing like Jungkook, and I can’t dance like J-Hope! I have to keep practising. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“That’s not true. You’re just as talented, if not more so.”

“I need to be better,” Jimin said quietly, standing up and turning away.

“But at what cost? Look at you? You fainted and now you’re injured. You’re not going to be able to do anything now!”

“I know that!” He spat angrily. “What is your point!”

Taehyung stood up and faced him, getting right to eye level with him. “I”m tired of watching you destroy yourself! You’re my best fucking friend and I can’t deal with it!”

The last sentence came out entirely in sobs, and Jimin felt like he’d been slapped across the face.

Jimin took a deep breath, feeling the pain in his shoulder once more. He managed to keep it off his face, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Taehyung had his head in his hands again, and as much as it killed Jimin to see, there wasn’t anything he could do.

He sighed, and walked by his friend and out of his room.

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asked, his voice strained.

“Shower,” Jimin mumbled, trying to keep his own voice steady. He felt like he too was going to cry, and he couldn’t handle letting Taehyung see it right now. He knew he had no right to cry in front of him after everything he’d said and done.

He walked down the dark hallway and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The first thing he did was kick the side of the tub as hard as he could because fuck he couldn’t shower even if he wanted to. He was in too much pain and it was going to be too much of a struggle to get his clothes off.

Fuck!

If he hadn’t been such a stubborn asshole he could have asked Taehyung for help. But no, he left him crying on his bedroom floor.

He kicked the tub again, smashing his toe and feeling the pain radiate up his leg.

He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he ended up sliding to the ground, back against the door with his head in his knees. The position wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t care. He’d stay there all night for all he cared.

A rustle came in from below the door, and he glanced down to see a piece of paper.

Do you need help?

It had two boxes, one said yes and one said no. A pen came sliding under the door as well. He couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter Text

Yoongi was the most interesting person sometimes. He came off as such a jerk and that was completely intentional, but Jimin swore he did it just to hide his softer side. And oh how soft it was. The messy handwriting on the paper next to him and the shallow breathing coming from the other side of the door was proof of that. He really did care so, so much.

He picked up the pen in his left hand and scribbled a messy check mark. He slid it back under the door and unclicked the lock, shifting himself away from the door.

The door opened slowly, and Yoongi stood there in his black and silver striped pajamas. It took him a second to spot Jimin on the floor, but when he did he offered him a sympathetic look and closed the door behind him.

“I assume you heard us fighting?” Jimin asked, only then realizing the lump in his throat. The words croaked out, and he struggled not to cry.

“Mm, yeah a bit,” Yoongi offered him his left hand. “I had a feeling it was coming though.”

“Why?” Jimin took his hand, but it was a struggle to get off the ground, not to mention it hurt. Everything hurt. He made a mental note to watch where he put himself down from now on.

“He was a bit of a mess after you left for the hospital. Like more so than the rest of us. We asked if he wanted us to talk to you, but he said he wanted to do it.”

He visibly winced. “Great. Now I feel like even more of a jerk.” Jimin leaned against the counter, feeling a bit dizzy and out of breath.

“He’s just worried. We all are,” Yoongi said, studying Jimin.

Jimin sighed as he ran his hand through his greasy hair, his eyes catching on a reusable shopping bag next to the door. “What’s that?”

“Supplies,” Yoongi replied with a bit of a smirk. “You do remember that I’m the shoulder injury expert, right? I survived almost 3 months in one of these while I was a trainee.” He nodded to Jimin’s sling.

Jimim had almost forgot about the heartbreaking story of Yoongi ’s injury, the injury that had taken away his ability to play basketball on any kind of serious level. He hadn’t known him at the time, but the stories he had heard from other members that were training at the same time told a tale of peril. Jimin had never brought it up with him before, as it seemed the other didn’t like the topic; but here he was now, smirking at him with his goodie bag in hand.

“So were you actually planning to shower? Or were you just hiding?” Yoongi asked.

“Maybe a bit of both?” Jimin said hesitantly, glancing down at his arm. “Can you um… teach me how?”

“I can, but why not a bath for now? Then I can help you wash your hair without having to get in myself,” Yoongi said with a bit of a laugh. “Nothing against you, but I’ve already showered and don’t feel like getting soaked again.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he started filling their oversized bath tub with water.

It felt a bit awkward once Yoongi turned off the water and approached him, hands open and ready to help. It was though he was a child, incapable of undressing himself. He was about to turn away from him when he realized he didn’t have the first clue of how to pull the sling off his shoulder.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Jimin admitted, pulling a slight grin to his lips.

“Come here,” Yoongi said, pulling him close and reaching around his back. He worked quietly and carefully, and soon the straps binding his arm to his torso fell.

“Support your arm,” he said, a gentle hand on Jimin’s wrist. He did as he was told, and Yoongi pulled the sling from him.

“No more t-shirts,” Yoongi said, instructing Jimin to pull his good out of the v-neck first, then pulling it over his head before gently sliding it over his bad arm. “Flannels with snaps instead of buttons are going to be your new best friend,” he said casually.

“I don’t think I own any,” Jimin admitted, feeling self conscious with no shirt on. He was grateful he had an excuse to hold his arm across his stomach.  

“Lucky for you, one of us has been here before,” Yoongi said, nodding to the bag on the floor. “You can finish? I’ll be right back,” Yoongi said, heading for the bathroom door.

Jimin wondered if he actually had something to do, or if he was just being respectful in letting Jimin finish undressing himself. It was more than the nurse at the hospital had offered, but then privacy didn’t exist there. Jimin appreciated his friend all the same, and while he struggled a bit with his pants, he managed to get undressed and climb into the tub, still holding onto his sore arm.

It seemed like almost more of a hassle than it was worth, he thought to himself as the pain radiated across both of his shoulders when he moved. That was until his body hit the water and the warmth overtook him, wrapping around him like a blanket full of golden warmth and happiness. The water was soft and smelled nice with a gentle layer of bubbles formed on top of its surface. It was Yoongi ’s favourite bubble bath - the one everyone made fun of him for. Truth be told though, the scent alone was welcoming. Jimin almost felt for a second like he was wrapped in his Hyung’s warm embrace.

The door opened again and Jimin nearly panicked before realizing it was indeed Yoongi. The other paused in the doorway, then smiled back at Jimin. “Did you think I was someone else?”

“Isn’t it normal to panic when someone walks in on you in the bathroom?” Jimin asked as he tried to get his body to relax.

“Only if you’re doing something you shouldn’t be,” Yoongi said.

Jimin didn’t reply, he just let himself float in the water, the weight of his body disappearing as he inhaled deeply, causing his chest to rise to the surface. He held his breath for a moment before exhaling and sinking back down. It was something he’d done as a kid in the bath. Something about it was relaxing.

“Talk to me, Jimin,” Yoongi said seating himself on the floor next to the tub so he was facing in same direction as Jimin, both of them looking at his feet.

“What do you want me to say?” He sighed.

“Tell me what’s going on. What happened? What happened with Tae?” Yoongi pulled at a stray thread on his sleeve as he spoke, eyes focused downward, not layering pressure on Jimin with anything but his words.

“Would it be ok if I just… didn’t? I don’t feel like I have the energy. Maybe tomorrow?” Jimin said, wondering how hard Yoongi was going to press. He wasn’t necessarily the type to force things out of Jimin, not like Namjoon and Taehyung were. He knew they were just worried but he didn’t have it in him right now.

“Sure. Is there anything I can say to help though?”

“You’re already helping. Thanks to you I’m not going to need to change my sheets in the morning.”

Yoongi snickered from beside the tub.

And so they didn’t talk.

Jimin lied in the bath letting the hot water soak away some of the tension from his body, quelling some of the raging storm inside of his head. He still felt like he couldn’t think straight, but at least he no longer felt the need to think. He sat quietly at the side of the tub while Yoongi washed his hair, conditioned it and combed it. After that he helped him to get out of the tub, to dry off and to put on a pair of white pajama pants and a green flannel top. He showed him how to put the shirt on without hurting himself, then replaced the sling the doctor had given him with a more comfortable one he had in his bag.

“It’s just easier to get on and off,” Yoongi said, doing up the clip in the front and adjusting the straps.

“Thanks,” Jimin said, feeling like it wasn’t enough.

“Just don’t be an idiot. Wear it as long as they tell you to,” Yoongi said, slipping Jimin’s thumb through the loop just inside the arm pouch. It was almost too big for him, or maybe his arm was just too short.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t?” Jimin asked, examining the material.

“Because it hurts. It feels like it’s doing more harm than good and all you want to do is take it off. But don’t. And make sure you stretch out your elbow and wrist whenever you do take it off. It’s crazy how fast joints tense up when you’re not using them. And take the pain meds when you’re supposed to. It’s tempting to say you’re fine and don’t need them, but when they wear off it’ll hurt again and you’ll have to wait till they kick back in. Pain gives no shits about your pride.”

“Got it. Thanks Hyung.”

“Here,” Yoongi said, handing him the bag. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

Jimin peered inside the bag, examining its contents.

“What’s the cherry coke for? That’s Tae’s favourite, not mine,” he said, peering into the bottom of the bag.

“I know. Go apologize and make up with him,” Yoongi said.

Jimin looked up at him and met his smile. Yoongi really did take such good care of him. He took care of all of them so well.  

“Thank you,” Jimin said, setting the bag down and hugging the other with his good arm.

“Please try to take care of yourself. If not for you, then for the rest of us,” Yoongi said, hugging him back gently.

As Jimin exited the bathroom, the cool air hit him full in the face and he felt a shiver run down his spine as though reminding him that the warm safety of the bathroom was no longer, and he once again had to face reality. The first bit of that reality was the fact that he’d left his best friend crying on his bedroom floor and he felt like a complete jackass for it.

Chapter Text

Jimin’s mind picked up again and he couldn’t get the image of Tae’s tear soaked face out of his head. As if he hadn’t caused the other enough trouble when he’d fainted, he came home and made the poor kid cry. He wanted to slap himself in the face.

He took a few uncertain steps down the hall and saw that his bedroom door was cracked open. Tae wouldn’t still be in there, would he? He picked up his pace and peered around the door frame, heart racing.

The room was empty, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped the bag inside of his bedroom door and pulled out the bottle of cherry coke.

He shivered again, wondering how much of that was actually a result of the cold. It was early November, so it wasn’t abnormal for the dorm to be cold. They tended to leave the heat off in the halls since some of them, like Hoseok for example, liked it cold while others like Jimin and Yoongi were constantly cold. Each of their bedrooms had its own temperature control, so it was never a problem as long as they didn’t linger in the hallways, like Jimin was doing now.

He found himself outside of Taehyung’s bedroom. He could see the light coming from under the door, though not enough to be the overhead lamp. He was probably watching something.

Jimin steeled himself. He had no idea what he was going to say and he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to. His mind was done, and all he could feel was guilt, pain and regret.

He took a deep breath and finally tapped gently on the door. There was no response. This was pretty normal, as Taehyung so often had headphones or just simply fell asleep. Jimin half hoped that he might have fallen asleep. Then he could deal with this tomorrow. But even that thought made him feel guilty. This was his fault, after all. He caused this mess, now he needed to fix it.

“Tae?” Jimin said, turning the door handle and cracking the door open slightly. He peered inside and saw the shape of what appeared to be a human form in a heap of blankets on the bed. The computer screen was playing something quietly, shining its brightness on the mess.

Jimin let himself into the bedroom, closing the door behind him and approaching the bed.

“Tae?”

The slightest movement, and Jimin found himself face to face with his teary eyed friend. Tae had the blanket over his head, but pulled enough to the side so that he could see the screen. He was watching old performance videos, though he wasn’t wearing his glasses so Jimin had to wonder how closely he was really watching.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said, finally extracting himself a bit from his blankets. He must have been dozing when Jimin came in. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Jimin said as casually as he could, seating himself on the edge of Tae’s bed.

“You managed to shower?” Taehyung dragged himself into a sitting position and pulled his glasses off his nightstand and pushed them up his nose.

“Yeah, Yoongi helped me.”

“Of course he did. I’m glad he was around.” Jimin listened carefully, looking for any hint of anger or frustration. But there was nothing. Just sadness.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin finally said, handing him the bottle of cherry coke.

“Where did that come from?” Taehyung asked, taking the bottle from him.

“I have a collection of them in my closet for when I piss you off,” Jimin said, attempting humour.

“No you don’t. I was just in your closet.”

“Fine, Yoongi has a collection for when I piss you off. Why were you in my closet?”

“I was looking for a shirt that would be easy for your to put on. The closest I found was a tank top.” Jimin felt a stab of guilt. Of course he’d looked for a shirt for him. Tae was so thoughtful, even after Jimin had crushed him.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a good thing Yoongi has a collection.”

“Cherry coke and flannels,” Taehyung said, glancing up at Jimin’s shirt. “Those shirts still haunt me.”

“Why’s that?” Jimin asked, adjusting himself on the bed so he was more comfortable.

“It was a rough time for him…”

“But he got through it.”

“And so will you,” Taehyung said, adjusting as well. He patted the spot on the bed to his right, indicating for Jimin to move closer.

Jimin did, though with some difficulty. As he moved closer, Taehyung tossed his thick duvet over Jimin’s legs. Jimin reached for his friend’s face, gently lifting his glasses to get a good look at his eyes. They were still puffy, but there was no longer evidence of tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin said softly, setting his glasses back on his nose, “for worrying you, and for making you cry.”

Tae sniffled, letting his hair fall into his eyes beneath his glasses. Jimin was sure he was tearing up again, and he pulled him closer with his good arm, wrapping it around his friend’s neck in an awkward hug. He hated that he just kept making him cry. What kind of friend did that?

“Don’t apologize. I just… I knew something was off. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think you could have done anything. No one saw it coming…” Jimin chose his words carefully.

“I did see it coming though. I feel like I’ve been dreading something like this.” Taehyung’s words were getting desperate again, and Jimin pulled back.

“What can I do?” He asked, locking eyes with Jimin. “How do I help?”

Jimin didn’t know what to say. He wanted Taehyung to stop talking, wanted it all to just go away. He couldn’t take anymore of this right now. He stared at his left hand in his lap, running his thumb anxiously down his index finger. Rarely did he find himself in a situation where he didn’t know what to say to his best friend. Most of the time words didn’t even need to be said. But right now that definitely wasn’t the case.

“I feel so helpless…” Taehyung said. It was almost a whisper. “Useless…”

No.

Jimin’s eyes jumped up, but this time it was Tae who avoided his glance.

“Tae, no,” Jimin said, still lost for words. He reached for his friend, brushing his hair out of his eyes and finding them filled with tears. “Fuck,” he muttered, wiping the tears with his fingers, only for more to flow down overs his hand.

And before he knew it he was crying. And he couldn’t stop. All the pent up feelings and emotions from the day, from the week, were coming out. It was like the floodgates had opened and he couldn’t stop it.

Tae seemed to realize this, and he got up and sat himself directly in front of Jimin, wrapping himself around him and holding him close. Jimin grasped Taehyung’s shirt tight in his fist, but he couldn’t stop the sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, “I’m so sorry.”

He could feel himself soaking his friend’s shirt but he was powerless to stop. It was far beyond tears; it was choked sobbing, nose running, loud crying. The definition of ugly crying. He was sure the entire dorm could hear it, and he hated himself for it. He’d done enough to worry them today.

Taehyung’s hand was on his back, rubbing circles into his left shoulder, and if possible, he buried his face deeper in his friend’s chest, as though it might mute his sobs like a pillow would his screams.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, but every second the shame of his meltdown burned deeper into him. Why couldn’t he have just sucked it up long enough to make sure Tae was ok, then had his breakdown where he wouldn’t worry anyone else. Tae was upset because he was worried about him, and Jimin could only be making it worse right now.

Finally his outrageous sobs exhausted themselves and he felt like he could breathe again, though the tears still fell. Tae handed him a wad of tissues and rubbed his hand up and down Jimin’s back, careful to avoid his injured side.

“Jimin,” Tae whispered, “it’s ok.”  

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, and he coughed slightly in attempt to clear it before forcing himself upright.

“It’s going to be ok,” Tae said, his voice claiming the key that made his vocal performances so unique. There was something calming about it.

And then, as if he could read Jimin’s mind, Tae started singing.

“I’ve been hiding it.
I tell you something,
Just to leave it buried.
Now I can’t endure it anymore”

His words were soft, but the meaning was powerful, and Jimin could feel his best friend’s voice resonate through him.

“Deeper, deeper, the wound just gets deeper,
Like pieces of broken glass that I can’t reverse.
Deeper, it’s just the heart that hurts every day”

He could feel the pain in his voice. He could understand. It hurt, but he needed to feel it. He needed to know. And this was the most direct way Tae knew to portray his feelings.

“Now cry.
It’s only that I’m so sorry to you.
Again, cry, because I couldn’t protect you”

He stopped. Jimin wished he hadn’t. But he understood.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” Tae said, his voice resuming its normal tone.

“The only thing worse than feeling pain yourself is watching someone you love experience it, knowing there isn’t anything you can do,” Tae said, dropping his gaze to his hands. “I would take it all away in a heartbeat, if I could.”

“I know you would,” Jimin said, grasping both Taehyung’s hands. “But I would never let you.”

“I know that too. But please, if there’s anything I can do… I know you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and look at you, you’re crumbling,” Taehyung said, still holding Jimin’s hand in his, but lifting his left to gently touch Jimin’s right arm. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

Jimin sobbed again, pulling his hand back to wipe at his nose.

Taehyung pulled his hand up Jimin’s shoulder and around the back of his neck, stroking the bottom of his hairline. He dropped his head slightly, falling into Jimin’s line of sight as he stared straight up his brow into Jimin’s teary eyes.

“Let me help? Please?”

Jimin sniffled, then nodded.

The sobs hit him again, but for some reason it didn’t feel as strained. It wasn’t the same mass of emotion racing to overcome a barrier. Taehyung extracted them both from the blanket and nearly climbed into Jimin’s lap, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.

“Let it out,” he whispered in Jimin’s ear. “Get it all out.”

It took him a while, but Jimin did manage to calm down. He ended up leaning against Taehyung and the wall as the other stroked his hair. He felt exhausted, drained, and like he’d been run over by several trucks and left to melt into the concrete. His eyes stung and his throat hurt from crying.

“I need to get up,” he finally said, his voice cracking.

“Why? Stay here,” Taehyung said, sounding worried.

“I’ll come back, I just need to get something.”

“I’ll get it. What do you need?” He began pulling himself out from under Jimin, shoving pillows in behind his shoulder to replace himself.

Jimin sighed, offering a small smile. “Just my phone and… ”

“And?” Tae asked, now that he was standing.

“The bottle of pills on my night table, please,” he finally asked, looking away.

“Sure, anything else?”

“I should wash my face,” Jimin said, wondering if Tae was going to allow him to get up.

“Nope, stay put, I’ll get you something,” he said.

He seemed to be in much better spirits as he bounced out of the room, turning on every light and crashing around the dorm as he went. He heard whispering at one point, and soon after, Tae returned with his hands full. He dropped the contents on the bed in front of him and handed Jimin a small pack of face wipes.

“Here, use these. That way you don’t have to get up.”

“Thanks,” Jimin said, sniffling again. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he kept quiet as Tae headed over to his closet to collect more pillows. Jimin struggled with the packaging, and finally gave up, tossing it in his lap in frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, simply glaring at the package. Finally he sighed, but didn’t look up. “I know you said you wanted to help, but I’m not good at asking for it.” He hated this.

Tae stared, puzzled, but only for a second. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he finally said, realizing what he’d missed, then dropping down on the bed to open the package for Jimin.

“Thanks,” Jimin said, holding out his hand. But Taehyung didn’t give it to him, instead he pulled the wipe out himself and reached for Jimin’s face. He pushed his hair back and gently began blotting at his skin, paying particular attention to the swollen circles beneath his eyes.

“I’ll try to be more observant, but you know I’m oblivious sometimes,” Tae said, running the wipe along Jimin’s jaw line.

“Alright, well if you can admit that, then I guess I can admit that I’m stubborn and probably will never ask,” Jimin said.

“Wait,” Taehyung stopped, a shocked expression forming on his face, “can you say that again? Can I record it?”

“No!” Jimin said, smiling as he shoved at his friend.

“I’m kidding! Just try, ok? It’s just me…” Taehyung said, returning to his task. “I’m not going to think any less of you for needing help.”

“I know,” Jimin said. “Thanks.”

“Want lotion?” Tae asked, holding up his favourite moisturizer.

“Yeah,” Jimin said. “I can do it though.”

Taehyung opened it and let Jimin dip his fingers. He rubbed it into his skin and felt a bit more human. He always felt better when he was clean. The only problem now was that his body was aching.

“Painkillers?” Tae asked, holding up the pill bottle.

“Yes please,” Jimin said, trying to keep the shame out of his voice.

“How many?” His friend examined the bottle, pulling off the childproof cap.

“I don’t know. I haven’t taken them yet,” Jimin said.

“1-2 every four hours,” Taehyung said, pouring two small white pills into his hand before passing them over. “There’s water here.”

Jimin popped the pills and drank from the water bottle Tae opened and handed to him. He ended up drinking the entire thing, not realizing how thirsty he’d been.

“How badly does it hurt?” Tae asked, grimacing before Jimin even answered.

“It’s ok,” Jimin lied.

“Is it broken or?”

“Dislocated. Or it was. They put it back.”

He cringed at that.

“I’m ok,” Jimin added quickly. “It’s just sore.”

“How long till you can dance again?” Taehyung asked, grabbing the bottle of cherry coke that Jimin had brought him.

“I don’t know. I have to wear this thing for at least 3 weeks,” he said, gesturing to the sling. Yoongi had been right though, this one was more comfortable.

“Oh shit. Do you have to sleep with it?”

“Yep, should be interesting.” As if he didn’t have enough trouble sleeping. He should have asked Yoongi the best way to try to sleep.

“I uh, grabbed some snacks. I thought you should maybe try to eat something?” Taehyung’s voice was hesitant, like he was worried Jimin would get upset or mad again.

He didn’t want to eat. He really didn’t want to. But he had already put Tae through so much tonight. He would do it… for him.

“Thanks,” Jimin said, picking at the food.

“Your phone is vibrating,” Taehyung said, passing it over to him. “Our twitter is exploding, by the way. The ARMYs are worried about you.”

“I know,” Jimin said, feeling guilty. “I’ll post something in the morning.”

He unlocked his phone and found he had several messages. The one that had just come in however, made him smile.

Taemin: Hey little brother, what the heck happened tonight? Are you alright? Worried about you. XOX.

He read through a couple more, and while he wanted to reply, he didn’t have it in him. Namjoon had said he’d put out a tweet, so hopefully that would satisfy everyone till morning.

He yawned and locked his phone, setting it down on the table beside Tae’s bed.

“You sure you want to have a sleepover?” Jimin teased. “I might be up half the night.”

“I’m not allowing you to go back to your bed. I spent half the night not knowing if you were ok. At least give me this.”

Jimin smiled softly at him. “Thanks.”

Taehyung turned off all the lights except the one direct beside the bed before crawling back under the blankets. He piled a couple of pillows behind him, then settled in so his left side was against the wall.

“I don’t know how this is going to work,” Jimin groaned, trying to find a comfortable position. Lying flat hurt because his arm wanted to fall from his body. It was almost like he needed to sleep in a chair, or sitting up somehow.

“Come here,” Tae said, lifting his arm and gesturing for Jimin to come closer.

In the end, he managed to find a comfortable spot leaning against Taehyung. The other set another pillow under his elbow and they relaxed while watching one of Tae’s favourite streamers. Jimin must have drifted off at some point because when he woke up Tae was snoring softly behind him, their fingers laced together.

Jimin smiled, and without moving, he let himself fall back asleep.

Jimin wasn’t sure how long he slept before he was jolted awake. He had no idea what caused it, but whatever it was, it hurt. He must have been sleeping long enough for the pills to wear off because the pain had fully returned to his shoulder and he didn’t feel like he was even able to move.

“Jimin?”

“Tae,” he whispered, though it sounded more like a whimper.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin winced as Taehyung shifted underneath him.

“Hurts,” he managed, grasping his shoulder.

“Shit, hang on,” Tae said, carefully trying to lift Jimin off him without hurting him more. He held his breath, and seconds later, the small light was on and there were more pills in his hand. “Take these.”

He did, accepting the water bottle that Tae put into his hand. He drank as much as he could, feeling thirsty, as though he’d cried all the water from his body. It probably wasn’t that much of a stretch.

“You ok?” Tae asked, pushing Jimin’s hair out of his eyes, looking worried.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to force his body to relax. “What time is it?”

Tae squinted at the alarm clock across the room. “5:30? We’ve only been asleep about 3 hours.”

“Lie down,” Jimin said. “And turn the light off.”

Even if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, it wasn’t fair to keep Tae up.

“Were you comfortable? Lying on me, I mean?” Tae asked, turning the light off and pulling the blanket back up up.

“I think so…” Jimin replied, massaging his sore shoulder now that the lights were off. “Were you?” The question sounded awkward. It wasn’t abnormal for them to sleep in each other’s beds. They’d been doing it since trainee days, especially when it was cold or one of them had had a bad day. Sometimes they would just be hanging out together and be too lazy to move. So why did it feel awkward now? Maybe because of the fight?

Or maybe because Jimin felt like such a burden.

“Yes. Come back,” Tae said, his voice confident.

Jimin could see his outline in the dark. His arms were open expectantly.

Chapter Text

He didn’t sleep well after that. He wasn’t sure if it was that the pain didn’t go away, or just that it was constantly on his mind. He was once again lying on Tae, and the sound of his friend’s heart beat was comforting, but it didn’t help him sleep. His mind was racing.

He was no longer numb to his feelings, and everything that had happened was starting to come back to him. The realization of his current situation was hitting him. He’d fainted on stage. He’d been injured. He was going to have to take an indefinite amount of time off from dancing. He’d worried their fans. He’d worried his friends. And worst of all, the real reason behind it had come to light, at least to a certain extent, with the members. Taehyung knew… and he had no doubt that Yoongi knew. They’d talked about him before he got home from the hospital. What had they said about him? And what were they going to say now?

They all knew how hard he worked. Everyone worked hard, and it made him want to work harder. He saw how outstanding his members were and he saw how much effort they put in. If he was going to catch up to them, he needed to put in more effort than them. He was getting left behind, and it made him sick.

And now he was only going to be further behind. There was more, too. He wouldn’t be able to exercise, so he knew he was going to gain weight. He was going to need to compensate with his diet, but that was only going to be more difficult now that he was under the watchful eye of not only his members, but management.

He’d really fucked up this time, and no matter how hard he wracked his brain for a solution, he had no idea what to do. In the past, no matter how dire the situation got, he could always come up with some way to deal, no matter how detrimental to his health it was. But this time was different. He’d lost control in so many ways and he felt like it was going to kill him.

By the time Tae’s alarm went off, Jimin had dug himself into a hole so deep he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel happy again. To make matters worse, he got a text message from his manager saying that he wasn’t allowed near the studio until further notice. No singing, no dancing, no working.

He remained in Tae’s bed while the other got dressed, pretending he was still sleeping, but really just sulking.

“What are you going to do all day?” Taehyung asked as though Jimin were wide awake sitting next to him. Jimin wasn’t sure why he thought he could fool him.

“Fuck if I know,” he said more aggressively than necessary.

“Watch a movie? Or a series or something? Take the time to relax,” Tae said, responding as though Jimin had simply asked him for advice. He was used to Jimin’s short fuse, knowing how to avoid tense situations when Jimin got angry or upset.

It wasn’t until after everyone left that Jimin realized that his sulking wasn’t doing him any good. Even so, he didn’t leave Tae’s bed. Instead, he sat there for most of the morning flipping through random youtube videos. He’d found the clip of himself fainting, but he was afraid to watch it. He left the tab open on the browser, wondering if he might get the courage as the day wore on.

It was about mid morning when he heard something downstairs. All the other members should have been at rehearsal, and no one else had a key to their dorm. A part of him wanted to go downstairs to see who had come back, but another more apathetic part of him wasn’t willing to move. He figured that whoever it was would come find him. They knew he was there.  

And it happened. There was a small, hesitant knock at Taehyung’s bedroom door, which eliminated the room’s owner as a candidate. Suga, Jhope and Namjoon wouldn’t knock like that, so he had it narrowed down to the oldest or the youngest.

“Can I come in?”

It was Jungkook. Perhaps the last person Jimin would have expected to leave rehearsals.

And he found himself more annoyed than anything. Here he was, physically unable to practice along with not being allowed near their practice room, and Jungkook who was perfectly capable was skipping out? What was he doing?

“What?” He asked.

“Uh, can we talk?” Jungkook asked, coming off as far more timid as usual. He was the youngest, but he never acted like it.

“Shouldn’t you be at practice?” Jimin asked, probably sounding nastier than he should have.

“I uh, wasn’t feeling well,” Jungkook said with a small voice. Had he been nominated to try to talk to Jimin? Was he doing this out of his own free will? He looked scared, and there could really only be one reason for that.

“If you’re here to lecture me, save it. I’m sleeping,” he lied.

Jungkook sighed, leaning against the door frame.

Jimin kept his eyes away for as long as he could, but finally glanced back. Jungkook looked sad… like something was troubling him. As frustrated as he was, he’d always had a soft spot for the younger boy, and he couldn’t just leave him there looking as pathetic as he did.

“Fine,” Jimin groaned. “What do you want?”

“M-mind if I sit down?” Jungkook asked, slowly stepping away from the door.

“It’s not my bed, but I can’t imagine Tae will mind.” He could still hear the bitterness in his own voice.

Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, like Jimin was a patient who might contaminate him if he got too close. He crossed his hands in his lap nervously, staring hard at them.

“What’s this about?” Jimin asked curiously, trying to keep the venom from his voice. He really just wanted to be alone right now. It was difficult to bathe himself in his own self-hatred with Jungkook’s beady, teary eyes staring back at him.

“It’s about… your eating,” Jungkook said, visibly bracing himself.

And rightly so.

Jimin was ready to explode.

“Seriously? You too? Can we please just not right now? Don’t you think I’ve heard enough of this? What else can you possibly say?”

Jungkook waited, letting Jimin say everything he needed to, then turned back to look at him.

“Done?” Jungkook asked.

“Do I need to get up and leave?” Jimin asked threateningly.

Jungkook said nothing

So Jimin did. He stood up, legs unsteady, bracing his arm against his body, prepared to return to his own bedroom. At least there he could tell the maknae to stay the hell out.

“Do you think maybe it’s possible that it isn’t all about you?” Jungkook said quietly, not looking at Jimin.

“What?”

“Are you going to listen to me?”

Jimin sighed dramatically, then turned back to Jungkook, noticing tears in his friend’s eyes.

He swore under his breath, then returned to the bed, inching himself back against the wall and setting a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Come here,” he said, urging the younger closer. Even if he was angry, he still cared. He’d screwed up again. First Tae, now Jungkook. What was wrong with him?

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes and sliding back, closer to Jimin.

“What’s going on, Kookie?” Jimin asked, now genuinely worried, any remaining sense of anger all but vanished.

“I - I don’t know how to talk about this,” Jungkook began, choking on his sobs.

“Relax,” Jimin said, rubbing the other’s back. “Just breathe.”

Jungkook did, taking a deep breath and then letting it out, another round of tears spilling down his face as he did.

Jimin’s brow knit with concern as he continued to rub the other’s back. Jungkook was strong; he didn’t cry often, at least not in front of the others. But then, he’d always been very guarded, preferring to deal with his problems on his own.

“I’m… I guess I’m like you. I mean, I haven’t fainted yet, but… I’m not good with food either,” Jungkook admitted, shaking hands reaching up to wipe his tears.

“You mean…”

Jungkook nodded. “I’ll eat it,” he said through a steady stream of tears, “but I… I don’t keep it down.” He couldn’t look Jimin in the eye.

Jimin blinked rapidly. How the hell could he have missed this? Because he was too focused on himself. Because he was selfish and oblivious.

“Jungkook… does anyone else know?” He took Jungkook’s shaking hand and held it tight.

Jungkook shook his head.

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I don’t want to do it anymore. I saw what happened to you and… I’m so worried about you. But then there’s something else…” He shook his hair off of his forehead and looked at Jimin.

“What else?” Jimin asked, still holding his hand, though he wasn’t sure if it was more for Jungkook’s comfort or his own at this point.

“When the others… when they talk to you about it, and when I see you doing it, it’s kind of… triggering?”

Fuck.

No.

This wasn’t happening.

“Jungkook…” Jimin whispered, his smaller hand squeezing Jungkook’s larger one.

“I’m sorry,” the younger said quietly, more tears falling.

“Why are you sorry? This my fault,” Jimin said, “I’m the hyung, I should be setting a good example for you and Tae.”

In that moment, Jimin hated himself more than he had in his entire life. It was so much more than just worrying the others. He was pushing Jungkook, their baby, into an eating disorder. Or rather, he’d pushed him there a long time ago, and was now just triggering him daily.

“Honestly,” Jungkook said, “I just want to be healthy, and I want you to be healthy. I don’t know how to go about doing that…”

Jimin wasn’t sure what to say. Why was Jungkook so much more mature than him?

“What can I do?” He finally asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do either…” Jungkook said, fiddling with Jimin’s fingers. “Would you… would you come eat with me?”

Jimin studied him. He looked like eating was the last thing he wanted to do. But he was trying, and Jimin could hardly say no. He slowly began to nod, and he held his friend’s hand tighter. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

More than anything, he wanted to know that the maknae was eating. He could do one meal.

Jungkook forced a smile through his tears, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves then returning his hand to Jimin.

Jimin hesitated, but he took it.

He tried to hide a grimace as Jungkook pulled him to his feet, but he was unsuccessful and he could feel the frown forming on his friend’s face before he saw it.

“Are you ok? Does it hurt bad?” Jungkook asked innocently.

“I’m ok,” Jimin lied, his hand remaining in Jungkook’s as they walked down the stairs. He probably needed another dose of his painkillers, but once again he found himself too stubborn to ask for help.

Whatever.

Jimin shivered as he stepped down into the kitchen, automatically sliding into one of the stools that sat against the narrow bar-like counter. “What are we eating?”

“I was thinking chicken and veggies on rice or noodles,” Jungkook said hesitantly, looking completely out of place in the kitchen. He was clearly trying, and for that, Jimin was thankful.

“Do you know how to cook that?” Jimin asked, attempting to force a tone of amusement into his voice.

“Well Jin cooked the chicken last night, so I really just have to cut veggies. There’s rice in the fridge too. Unless you want noodles?” Jungkook looked up at him almost awkwardly.

“Rice is good,” Jimin said, watching him pull vegetables out of the fridge. He set them on the counter and began digging around for a cutting board and knife.

Jimin hated the fact that Jungkook seemed to feel awkward around him now. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was hurt and clearly an emotional wreck, or more so because of what Jungkook had just divulged. Either way, the two had been growing closer and he hated feeling so far away from him now.

“Can I ask… how long?” Jimin finally spoke, unsure of whether or not to try to make eye contact.

As it turned out, it didn’t matter. Jungkook didn’t look up from the onion he was cutting. As the other continued to dice, his eyes reddened. He probably could not have picked a worse time to talk to him about this.

“Since before debut,” Jungkook admitted, cutting the onion into even smaller pieces.

“You’re kidding…” Jimin was nearly speechless. Even his own issues hadn’t existed that long. In a way it felt like a relief.

Ok, so he hadn’t caused them. But he’d definitely exacerbated the problem.

“Not kidding,” Jungkook said, sniffling. “And I swear it’s the onion.”

Jimin cracked a smile, extremely grateful for the remark. This conversation was getting heavy and he wasn’t sure he could deal with Jungkook actually crying right now. “Sure it is,” he teased, immediately wondering if it was inappropriate.

“You?”

For some reason, the question caught Jimin off guard. He’d asked first, but he still hadn’t considered that as a response. He actually had to think back. Had he had problems before debut? During school? He was a classically trained contemporary dancer. There was always pressure to be thin. But for some reason, it hadn’t ever really occurred before.

“No More Dream,” Jimin finally admitted. “At least that’s when I remember it getting bad.”

“Assholes,” Jungkook swore under his breath.

Jimin glanced at him questioningly, spinning mindlessly in his stool.

“We were all supposed to lift our shirts for that performance. I don’t understand why in the end they only made you do it.”

Jimin didn’t reply. It was true though. Having his own diet and exercise plan prior to the release of the song had been grueling. Sure they all had a strict diet to follow, but there was really something riding on his. He couldn’t very well lift his shirt with nothing to show. The idea of photoshop had made him sick, and that obviously wasn’t an option for live performances.

The only option at the time to make things progress more quickly had been to self-modify his diet plan. He still cut out all of the things he’d been told to, but he also cut out a number of meals. He thought back to the days leading up to the promotions. Avoiding meals all together, taking laxatives, whatever it took.

It had worked. Well, for the most part.

Sure, his abs had been on point, but overall he’d still been too heavy. That was when it really started. But the important thing was that he knew it, right? He had everything under control.

There were fans who had liked that muscular body, but overall, he didn’t approve of his size. He was on the right track now. His face as thinned out, his body was becoming leaner, he knew where he needed to be, and for once he was on track to achieving that.

Or at least… he was.

Then he’d fucked up and got hurt.

“Hyung?”

“Sorry, I zoned out. Haven’t been sleeping all that well,” Jimin said, automatically throwing out the excuse.

“It must be hard to sleep like that. I hope they gave you some good drugs,” Jungkook said, setting a plate in front of him. “Is that enough?”

Jimin didn’t answer, he simply eyed the maknae.

“Right. Sorry.” They both knew the answer. It was always too much, but neither would say it. Ever. Especially now.

“I think I’m going to need a spoon,” Jimin said, hoping to break the awkward silence between them as Jungkook measured up his own portion. He stared at the chopsticks in front of him. Why couldn’t it have been his left shoulder?

His first attempt left-handed with the spoon ended with Jungkook cleaning a bunch of rice off the floor beneath his stool. At least he was laughing as he did it. Jimin could deal with the humiliation as long as Jungkook got a kick out of it.

This was what he needed right now: Jungkook smiling. He chanced a glance at his friend’s eyes as the younger scooped up a spoonful of vegetables and offered it to him. They were still red, but at least the sparkle was back.

“Say ahh, Hyung,” Jungkook laughed as he fed Jimin.

Jimin obliged, opening his mouth and taking the food. As wrong as it felt, he knew he had to grin and bear it. He locked his eyes with Jungkook’s smile and managed to force his own, despite how inherently wrong eating large mouthfuls like this felt.

He’d made such a mess, and if this was what it took to fix it, so be it. He would deal with the repercussions later.

Chapter Text

He was not ok.

Jimin lied there in his own bed, propped up slightly on his pillows but not enough to keep his arm at an angle that would alleviate the pain. Right now, that was the only thing keeping him grounded. He felt like he was going to puke. Everything around him was fuzzy, like he was underwater. He might as well have been underwater. He felt like he was drowning, every thought constricting his airway further and further. He tried to take deep breaths but it didn’t seem to matter. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling like he needed to cry, but nothing came.

He couldn’t think straight. Everything was too much.

He was beyond disgusted with himself.

In his self centered, self destructive path he’d set out on in attempt to make himself feel better in his own skin, he’d broken so many others along the way. He’d known they were worried, but somehow he decided his own feelings of self acceptance were more important, even though he knew deep down how twisted it was.

Last night he’d shattered Taehyung. He’d reduced him to pieces on his bedroom floor and left him there alone.

And before that he’d triggered Jungkook. Their maknae. Their baby. His little brother. The boy who had left his family at 14, and only had his brothers to look up to.

How could he have ever thought that this was all about him. That if he kept it hidden, it wouldn’t affect anyone else.

He had fucked up so badly this time. It was so far beyond the fainting, beyond the injury. He’d hurt his family. He’d been so fucking blind.

And it was disgusting. He was disgusting.

Now selfishly, he wanted to unfeel what he was feeling. Like he deserved peace of mind after all of this.

No. He deserved every ounce of the pain he felt, and more.

He used his left hand to jerk his right arm across his body, sending fire through his shoulder and causing him to rollover, writhing in pain and biting his lip so hard that he tasted blood.

It was like he could see the strike of lightning, the loud, audible wavelength ripping through his mind accompanied by a loud static of outstanding frequency.

The pain was excruciating, but that powerful burst of energy cleared his mind. Only for a second.

Another jerk of his arm, and this time he couldn’t hold back the scream of anguish that tore itself from his throat.

It fucking burned.

But it burned so good.

It was distracting, satisfying, completely deserved.

Who knew how much damage he was doing to his body right now, how far he was setting himself back. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t handle this state of mind. He needed this.

The more he hurt himself, the more he felt retribution for his friends. And the more his mind cleared.

It was the only way.  

It was Yoongi that found him in his room later that night, lying flat on his back, arm flung to the side of his body. Jimin was fairly certain he looked dead aside from the fact that his eyes were completely trained on the ceiling, glaring an unyielding hole into a square inch not a foot from the light fixture. He wasn’t sure why he chose that spot, but his eyes hadn’t left it for what felt like hours.

“Jimin?”

He was fairly certain Yoongi had knocked, but Jimin had either subconsciously ignored it or literally hadn’t heard it.

“Jimin?” The second time his hyung said his name the panic was audible, palpable in his voice, and not a second later, his view of the ceiling was obstructed by sky blue hair and his friend’s extremely concerned expression. “What happened?”

Jimin finally let his eyes relax, and they rolled to the top of their sockets to meet Yoongi’s. He was upside down hanging over top of him.

“I don’t know.” The words croaked out.  

“Your arm…”

“Fucking hurts,” Jimin said, finishing the sentence.

“Jimin, why are you lying here like this?” Yoongi asked, moving himself around to Jimin’s angle. He set a hand on his bad shoulder, earning a wince from the blonde. “You aggravated it, didn’t you?”

“Probably… Argh!” Jimin wailed as Yoongi attempted to slowly move his arm back to its original position.

“Hold still,” Yoongi said, feeling the joint, making Jimin hiss in pain. “I want to make sure you didn’t fuck it up again.”

Jimin bit his lip. The pain was not welcomed anymore, and he was regretting everything. Why did it hurt so much worse when someone else moved it? And why had he thought this was a good idea?

Yoongi hopped off the bed, returning with Jimin’s sling and strapping his arm back in place. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“I’m aware, thanks,” Jimin said, his conviction dying before the words left his lips.

“Sit up,” Yoongi said, his tone softening, “please?”

Jimin stretched out his left hand, making no other attempt to move his body. Yoongi sighed and took it, gently pulling him up into a sitting position, Jimin wincing as he moved.

“Why did you let yourself get like this?” Yoongi asked, pulling Jimin’s pill bottle from the table and opening the cap.

“Rough day,” Jimin mumbled, adjusting the thumb strap inside the sling on his hand. His thumb didn’t quite reach as his arm or his hands or his fingers were just a bit too short. Story of his life, really.

“Talk to me,” Yoongi said as he handed him two pills from the bottle.

Jimin took his time downing one pill first, taking the water Yoongi offered him, and then the second. He couldn't exactly tell Yoongi what he’d learned today about Jungkook without betraying his trust.

“I just feel like an idiot,” he said quietly. It was the truth. “I made all you guys worry.”

“So you fix it by hurting yourself more?”

Jimin winced. Yoongi’s words were sharp, and hearing them filled him with regret all over again. Only this time, it was a different kind of regret.

He needed to not let the others see him falling apart like this. He couldn’t let Yoongi walk in on him during his breakdowns, or let Jungkook see him not eating. He couldn’t let Taehyung witness anymore crying either.

If he was going to starve himself or hurt himself, he needed to keep it to himself.

He could do it, right?

He needed to do it.

“Have you eaten today?”

Yoongi’s words were so casual. He knew they all hated asking him, but he just threw the words out there like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a sensitive subject. Like he was asking if it was raining.

“Yeah, Jungkook made me lunch,” he said, the air leaving his lungs. It felt good to be truthful for a change. It was almost relaxing.

“Good. He looks up to you, you know,” Yoongi said.

Jimin tried to hold back a glare but was fairly certain he was not succeeding. It was like he already knew. Hell, it was Yoongi. He probably did.

“Look, I just came back to jump in the shower. I have to get back and finish recording, but Hoseok wants you downstairs for something,” Yoongi said. “Are you going to be ok?”

The second part of his sentence sounded so soft. It wasn’t like Yoongi. Sure he cared more than anyone who didn’t know him well might think, but he didn’t sugar coat things. He told things like they were and he didn’t waste his breath on things that didn’t deserve it. This was why Jimin felt a bit uncomfortable at his question.

But then, Yoongi had walked in on him in a state.

He mentally kicked himself again.

This was not going to happen again.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Jimin said, adjusting his posture and wincing as he stretched out his neck. “Any idea what he wants?”

“No, but he’s down in the garage. I think he’s practicing.”

Great, just what he needed; to watch someone practice while he couldn’t. This was going to be just great.

“Thanks hyung,” Jimin said, stopping for a second. “Really, for everything,” he added.

“Take care of yourself, please?”

Jimin offered as much of a smile as he could muster.

The walk downstairs felt strange. The concrete at the bottom of the stairs was cool on Jimin’s socked feet and the air on the lower level was cold. He wished he brought a sweater.

He pushed the door open to reveal the well lit garage which had been transformed into a small dance studio. The walls had been painted white and a proper floor had been installed along with full sized mirrors. Jimin avoided them, and found himself face to face with Hoseok. The older was about to begin a routine, but stopped when he saw Jimin, turning to shut off the music.

“Jiminie,” Hoseok smiled, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s good side. “Shit, look at you,” he said, his eyes taking in Jimin’s appearance.

It dawned on him then that he hadn’t seen Hoseok since the incident, and a rush of emotion flew through him. He felt bad for not apologizing or saying something to him when he got home. He felt nervous that he was going to need to explain himself again. And he also felt slightly betrayed that Hoseok hadn’t checked up on him. But he knew he couldn’t hold that against him. He didn’t want to worry his friends.  

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asked, gently touching Jimin’s right arm.

“I’m ok,” Jimin said, trying to make it sound believable. They knew him well, but he was no stranger to lying about things like this.

“Yoongi said you wanted me for something? I’m not allowed to dance…” he trailed off. The words hurt to say out loud. But then, even if he was allowed, he knew too well that he couldn’t. He could hardly pull himself out of bed.

“Nah it’s all good. I just want your opinion on something,” Hoseok said, picking up a water bottle and taking a long sip. “I’m working on the choreography for the new single and I’m stuck. Would you mind watching what I have?”

“Of course. Didn’t you just start though? Are you that far already?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I dance in my sleep?” Hoseok asked, grinning as he took another sip from the bottle.

Jimin couldn’t hold back a smile. “Yes actually, after the number of times I’ve been kicked in my sleep sharing a bed with you.”

Hoseok nearly spat his water out laughing, but caught himself and wiped the small amount that had escaped his lips on his white long-sleeve.  

“Don’t tell me you don’t hear that all the time,” Jimin laughed.

“I do, actually,” Hoseok said, screwing the lid back on the bottle, a huge grin across his face.

Something about that smile was overpowering, and Jimin felt like the cool air in the room was actually warming around him. Hoseok’s energy was contagious as it radiated through the studio.

“Alright, show me what you’ve got,” Jimin said, glancing behind him and backing up into the seat against the wall. He leaned forward, holding his right arm tight against his body as he awaited what Hoseok had to show him.

Watching Hoseok dance was like a breath of fresh air. He was obviously exhausted, but his movements were sharp and precise, controlled and fluid, and Jimin felt like he was falling into a trace watching. The song was slower than what Hoseok normally worked with, less poppy and beat driven. It was almost contemporary, which was where Jimin’s passion for dance had come from.

“Hyung, that was amazing. You did all that in one night?” Jimin felt himself breathing harder than before, and his pulse had quickened with excitement.

“Two nights, really. I was at it for a while last night before bed too. Nothing is finalized though.”

“You’re so good!” Jimin wailed.

Hoseok smiled, one hand on his hip, the other on the towel he was using to wipe his forehead. “I’m not sure what to do with the bridge. I want to pull something big in, but I don’t know what. Any thoughts? This is kind of your area of expertise.”

“Can you show me what you have building up to it?” Jimin asked, standing up from his chair, excited at the prospect of helping.

Jimin watched carefully, everything else forgotten as he examined Hoseok’s movements in accordance with the music. As soon as he stopped, glancing up expectantly, Jimin stepped in, his mind in full blown choreography mode.

“What if we do something different for the bridge. I assume you’ve got us all doing similar movements through the verses, but what if we have Namjoon hyung and Jin hyung in the back doing something like… “ he tried to convince his body to move the way he wanted. It was difficult, but Hoseok managed to mirror him and get what he was saying.

“Yes yes, I like it, emphasize their height and their long legs. Then get Yoongi hyung in the front for his rap, while you and I do something like…” he started moving again, his body tracing the lines of a dance that Jimin himself would have chosen, “off to the sides?”

“And then Kookie and Tae framing Yoongi hyung somehow in the front,” Jimin added.

“You stand here and pretend you’re Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok said, pointing at the spot on the floor.

Jimin did as he was told, holding a fake mic up to his face in his left hand, dropping his posture and his knees into a slouch. Hoseok laughed, making Jimin grin with amusement as well.

“You look just like him,” Hoseok commented.

“Thanks, I try,” Jimin smiled, running his hand through his messy hair.  

“Ok, what if Kookie and Taehyung do something like this on either sides of him.” He demonstrated his thinking, then stopped and turned back to Jimin. “Is that too tacky?”

“No it’s good, but I think we need to get their legs more involved. Maybe an extra couple of steps like…”

They kept at it until one of them finally checked the time.

“Holy crap, it’s after midnight. The others are going to kill me if they find out I made you work this late,” Hoseok said, taking a long sip from his third water bottle before handing it, opened, to Jimin.

Jimin smiled. Hoseok’s attention to detail was there without making Jimin have to think or feel burdened by the injury.

“It'll be fine," Jimin insisted. 

He felt so much better having been focused on something else for a while. The pain was still there, but his mind felt more relaxed than it had in days.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin smiled, handing the bottle back. He hoped he knew it had nothing to do with the water bottle.

“Anytime,” Hoseok smiled back, capping the drink. “Do you want to go upstairs and look over some of the footage?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jimin said. “But pajamas first.”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok said, clicking his tongue and pointing two finger guns at Jimin. He was still in a pair of black ripped pants and Jimin felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of trying to get out of sweaty tight jeans.

Jimin himself was in a pair of sweats, but he couldn’t wait to get into the white flannel pajama pants Yoongi had given him last night.

Getting changed was still a struggle, especially since he had assumed Taehyung would be home, and he wasn’t, but somehow, he didn’t find himself all that discouraged when it took him a few extra minutes. He felt better after the choreography session with Hoseok, and he was looking forward to going over some videos with him.

“Hey, thought you fell asleep on me,” Hoseok said, sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a folded blanket across his lap.

“Nope,” Jimin smiled, “I’m just moving a bit slow these days.” He forced a laugh, and Hoseok didn’t even blink. Instead he reached out his arm and let Jimin climb in close to him. He sat with his legs curled under him, leaning to his left into Hoseok’s embrace.

“I made tea.” Hoseok said, nodding to the teapot on the table and the two teacups next to it.

“Smells good,” Jimin said, smelling the chai flavour in the air.

“Thanks for your help today,” Hoseok said, massaging the back of Jimin’s neck as the younger signed and relaxed deeper into his arms. 

“Thanks for getting me out of my bedroom,” Jimin said as Hoseok pulled the blanket across their laps.

Hoseok had set up his laptop so it was connected to their large TV, and he clicked through the footage he’d taken from their choreography session previously. They’d only started watching when Namjoon entered the room looking half asleep. He was carrying an ice pack and had a long bean bag slung around his neck.

“Orders from Yoongi,” Namjoon said as he sat next to Jimin, dropping the ice in his lap.

“Oh?” Jimin asked, pressing his blanket down into his lap. He noticed Namjoon’s black and white checkered pajama pants and his navy hoodie, and he wondered if Yoongi had dragged him out of bed to tend to Jimin.

“He said sling off, ice on,” Namjoon said, reaching for the clasp resting on Jimin’s chest.

Jimin let him, feeling the tenderness in his friend’s touch instead of frustration for a change. Namjoon was so careful the way he pulled the strap around Jimin’s neck before setting the ice on his shoulder.

“He thought this might help too,” Namjoon said, setting the bean bag gently around his neck. Jimin instantly felt the heat from it, melting into the couch as the tension was soothed from his aching muscles. “He really does think of everything,” Namjoon smiled.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin said, smiling as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t thank me.”

“Hyung, you should see the choreography for the new single,” Jimin said, remembering what he’d been up to all evening.

“Hoseok, did you put him to work? You know he’s supposed to be resting,” Namjoon said, a disapproving tone to his voice as he glanced back.

“No, no,” Jimin insisted, “I was just watching and giving feedback. But wait till you see your part towards the end! We made you and Jin hyung look so damn good!”

Namjoon looked at Jimin, then at Hoseok like he was about to scold him further. But then his eyes returned to Jimin, and his expression softened. It was obvious that he could hardly condemn Hoseok when Jimin looked more alive than he had in days, possibly weeks.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Namjoon finally said, offering a half smile.

“You guys want to watch a movie instead?” Hoseok asked, diverting the conversation as he sat up straighter.

“What were you thinking?” Namjoon asked.

“Yes!” Jimin said, making his opinion well known. He knew they couldn’t say no.

“I’m making popcorn,” Hoseok said, pulling himself out from behind Jimin. “Here, hold this,” he said, shifting Jimin into Namjoon’s embrace.

Jimin laughed as Namjoon awkwardly took him into his arms. He was so gentle, and it made Jimin feel so special as he knew how destructive Namjoon could be.

Hoseok was back a few minutes later with a giant bowl of popcorn. He set it in Jimin’s lap then climbed back into the pile. Namjoon shifted a giggling Jimin back into Hosoeks arms and reached for the popcorn.

Hoseok managed to position Jimin so the other was leaning against him with his arms wrapped around the younger boy’s neck, console controller held out in front of him. He sifted through the list of movies as Jimin relaxed back into his embrace.

“No butter?” Namjoon asked, picking up a kernel between his index finger and thumb. His eyes were magnified by his thick lensed glasses and it made him look so much younger than he was. He looked like a child that had just been given sugar free candy.  

“It’s healthier this way,” Hoseok said, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn and tossing them in his mouth. “Besides, I still seasoned it. Just try it,” he insisted, tossing a final piece at Namjoon’s head.

“I’m getting a drink,” Namjoon said, dragging himself up off the couch. “Anyone want one?”

“Nah we got tea,” Hoseok said.

Namjoon nodded, pouring the two cups of tea and handing one to Jimin and setting the other next to Hoseok on the side table before heading off to the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Jimin nodded, taking the hot cup of tea in his good hand.

“Try it?” Hoseok asked, offering Jimin a piece of the popcorn.

Jimin turned his head and took it between his lips, tasting the olive oil, garlic and seasoning salt on his tongue as he chewed thoughtfully. He knew Hoseok normally put butter on popcorn, so the fact that he hadn’t reminded Jimin just how thoughtful he was. He wasn’t fussing, but Jimin knew that he cared so much.

“It’s good,” Jimin said softly. “Thank you.”

Hoseok settled on a movie then set the controller down on the arm of the couch. “You comfy?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, shifting slightly so that he was fully leaning into Hoseok, feeling the warmth of his friend through his flannel shirt in contrast to his cold shoulder. 

Hoseok adjust the ice on Jimin’s shoulder so it wouldn’t fall and pressed a kiss into the crown of his head. “Let me know if you need anything,” he whispered as Namjoon returned with a bottle of beer.

“Thanks,” Jimin said quietly.

“Guys ready?” Namjoon asked, settling back onto the couch before pulling Jimin’s legs across his knees.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said. Jimin nodded in agreement.

They started the movie, and Jimin watched but didn’t really pay much attention. Instead he simply lied there, feeling the warmth and love of his older brothers as cuddled close with him. 

Hoseok had been amazing. He’d managed to distract him not only with his bright personality, but with something that made Jimin feel useful. He hadn’t overworked him; he’d kept things light. He hadn’t once asked Jimin what happened or if he was ok, he simply trusted that Jimin would say something if he felt the need. Finally, he’d curled up with him on the couch, brought him a healthy snack that he wouldn’t feel guilty eating and drinking, and was just there. He was always there.

It meant the world.

Chapter Text

It was the next day that the message from his manager came in. He was suspended from group activities for a minimum of a week. He wasn’t even allowed to participate in his vocal lessons. He also had what his manager had called an appointment to check up on his mental health scheduled for Wednesday. Jimin was highly offended that they’d booked him in with a shrink without even consulting him first.

But being offended wasn’t going to change anything, and missing the appointment would be like missing rehearsal. You just didn’t do that sort of thing when you were under contract.

It wasn’t often that Jimin considered this work or a job or even thought about said contract. It was only times like these when they told him what he could or couldn’t do.

Not having a public facebook account made sense. Going to see a shrink, not so much.

And to make everything even more exciting, he had a physiotherapy appointment after as well. He’d been injured before. He knew how awful physio was.

“Are you recording today?” Jimin asked Taehyung, running his hand through his hair as he stared up at the ceiling. He was still lying in Taehyung's bed while Tae was up getting himself dressed and put together for the day.

“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “I need to be there for 9. Why?”

“I have physio today,” Jimin said, picking up his phone again and looking into a bit more detail about his day. He didn’t want to go alone, but he couldn’t ask Taehyung to skip work. He nearly dropped the phone on his face, turning his head just in time to avoid it. He sighed, not picking the phone back up.

“I think Jin is starting later, I bet he’d go with you,” Taehyung said, as though reading Jimin’s mind.

“Meh, I’ll see when I get up,” Jimin said noncommittally. There was no way he was going to ask Jin to come with him. He was a grown man. He should be able to attend his own appointments without needing a hand to hold.

He lied there quietly, tilting his head to watch Taehyung tie a thin black and white scarf around his neck before pulling off his glasses and kneeling on the ground in front of his mirror to put his contacts in. Taehyung blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting, then turned to look at Jimin.

“Have you been wearing your contacts for like 3 days straight?” He asked.

“5 days, actually,” Jimin said, his tone daring Taehyung to question him.

Taehyung looked like he might, but instead he pressed his lips together and simply nodded. “Not sure how you stand it,” he said, looking away.

Jimin hated wearing glasses, and he hated touching his eyes to put contacts in. He hated waking up and not being able to see, hated looking in the mirror and seeing a blurry mess. It had been a couple of years ago when he convinced his optometrist to order him long term use contacts that he could wear for two weeks at a time. They were still irritating, and he didn’t often wear them long especially because he changed to coloured lenses so often, but since he’d been injured he hadn't removed them. He knew it was going to be a chore to take them on and off, so he just… didn’t.

Jimin shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as he moved against the pillows Taehyung had set under him when he got up. He wasn’t nearly as comfortable as he’d been sleeping against his best friend, but he was also too stubborn to get out of bed at the moment. He knew he needed to get up soon, but he decided he’d wait until Taehyung as gone. He was in one of those moods where he didn’t feel like struggling in front of anyone, even if it was just Tae.

Taehyung pulled a long beige jacket around his shoulders, shrugging into the sleeves and turning back to Jimin. He paused for a second, then picked up the bottle of pills that had been living on his night table. He popped it open and held out his hand to Jimin, two pills in his palm.

Jimin stared up at him, then back at his hand. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or hated it. Something stirred inside of him, a bit of frustration swirling with guilt. Taehyung was taking care of him; he had no right to be mad. But somehow, he felt like he couldn’t control his emotions. A part of him wanted to scream, another wanted to cry. He chewed on his bottom lip and managed to avoid both.

He dragged his good arm up under himself and struggled to sit up a bit. Taehyung helped him, then sat down on the bed next to him. Jimin sighed deeply and held out his hand, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with the water Taehyung handed him. Tae sat next to him, leaning on his outstretched right arm, studying him carefully as he brushed Jimin’s bangs out of his eyes.

“What do you need right now?” He asked, his voice calm and composed.

Jimin exhaled, closing his eyes. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let it show. “A new body?” He finally spoke.

Taehyung offered him a half smile, then ran his hand through Jimin’s hair and down the back of his neck, pulling himself closer, pressing their foreheads together.

Jimin let him, eyes locking with Tae’s.

Damn that scarf looked good on him. It reminded Jimin of how flight attendants often wore a matching coloured scarf with their airline. Except it looked better on Tae, much prettier.

“You’re going to get through this, hyung,” he said softly. “I promise.”

Jimin clenched his eyes shut, tears threatening harder now. Taehyung stayed there, stroking the back of Jimin’s neck, his hand finding Jimin’s good hand and allowing him to squeeze gently.

“I’m ok,” Jimin finally whispered.

Taehyung pulled back slightly, “You sure?”

Jimin sniffled, but nodded. It was obvious how close to crying he was, but he still refused to let it out.

“Go to work,” Jimin said, “You’re gonna be late.”

Taehyung looked him in the eye a moment longer, as though looking for any indication that he needed to stay. Jimin was sure he could see how not ok he was right now, but at the same time, Taehyung knew that Jimin just needed space to fall apart sometimes. He probably hated it, but he respected Jimin and gave him what he needed.

“I’ll see you tonight. Good luck with physio,” Taehyung said, standing up and running his hand through Jimin’s hair once more.

“Thanks. Have a good session.”

And then he was alone.

As soon as Taehyung was gone, the room felt overwhelmingly quiet. Sure he’d been awake half the night, but at least he’d been able to hear Taehyung’s soft, slow breathing and feel his heartbeat through his chest. It had grounded him when he’d felt like he was losing it. Now he had none of that.

It was still dark out. Winter was at its peak, and Jimin felt a kind of cold he wasn’t sure was entirely attributable to his body temperature. It was almost an empty cold. A lonely cold, perhaps. But it wasn’t just that he longed for physical contact because in all honesty, the privacy was kind of nice. But he felt empty in a sense that he needed more than just human connection. He needed his work. It was his passion… his love… his life. Dancing was everything to him, and without it felt incomplete. He felt betrayed by his body. When stressed, it had always been so easy to simply turn on some music and fling himself around the room dramatically, releasing his pent up negative energy with every twist and turn of his hips, every movement of his arms, every spin on his toes. Now he could barely sit up unassisted.

Now everything… everything that made him himself was gone.

Jimin glanced at his phone. He really needed to get up if he was going to make it to his appointment. He groaned as he struggled to sit up straight, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing as he attempted to straighten out the kinks. Yoongi hadn’t been lying when he told him the sling was going to kill his neck. He’d been off his feet for the last 9 hours and it still ached.  

His stomach growled, and while hunger pangs often gave him a sense of satisfaction, they also hurt. He was in enough pain as it was, and he partially blamed Jungkook for forcing him to eat yesterday. The less he ate, the less he felt hungry.

As he stood up, a wave of guilt weaved its way into the dizzy spell taking over him and he had to physically stabilize himself against the wall. He couldn’t blame Jungkook. He knew he was only trying to help him. This was his own hole. He’d dug it, now he had to lie in .

Once the dizziness passed he let himself out of Taehyung’s bedroom. If he’d thought Tae’s room was cold, it was nothing compared to his own room. It hadn’t been inhabited in the last 12 hours and the air was frigid enough to make him shiver. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms and legs, and a chill raced down the back of his neck causing him to physically shake and whine in pain.

His left hand found its way to his shoulder as he collapsed onto his bed, the tears stinging his eyes again.

This was so fucking stupid, he thought to himself as he kicked his night stand. Every little movement hurt so fucking much. It made him feel so pathetic. So weak…

He shook his head violently. His world spun.

Focus you idiot.

He looked around the room. It was a mess. He hated when his room was like this. He felt his space reflected himself, and if his room was out of order, so was he. Disgust bubbled in his stomach, but he tried to ignore it. All he needed to do was dress himself, then he could leave.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Getting his pajama pants off was ok, but while he stared longingly at his black skinny jeans, the ones that made him feel thin, he decided the struggle probably wasn’t worth it. He just wanted to feel like himself again. Instead he pulled out his red sweatpants, the ones weren’t too bulky and still had some shape. It still wasn’t ideal, but at least he could put them on by himself.

Or so he thought.

Jimin ended up seated at the edge of his bed, his sweatpants around his ankles, his toe aching from kicking his night stand as hard as he could, and his eyes swimming with unshed tears of frustration.

He hated everything in that moment. Everything.

There was a knock at the door, but the visitor didn’t wait for a response. Seconds later Yoongi’s minty blonde mop of hair popped around the corner.

“Need help?” He asked, stepping into the bedroom, not giving Jimin time to answer.

Jimin sniffled and said nothing. Why was he so incapable? It made him feel like garbage.

“Stand up,” Yoongi said, helping Jimin into his sweatpants. Jimin did as he he was told and immediately felt the warmth of the soft material around his legs.

Yoongi was fully dressed in his own black jeans and black leather jacket. His satchel was pulled across his chest and Jimin could hear his keys jingling in his pocket. He must have been on his way out when he’d heard Jimin kick the night table.

“You don’t have to help if you’re in a rush,” Jimin said, his voice sounding far more pathetic than he would have liked.

“Stop saying things like that. You need to ask for help or you’re just going to hurt yourself more.” Yoongi was unclipping his sling, moving his left arm to hold his right as he freed the injured limb. “What shirt are you putting on?”

“I hadn’t got that far,” Jimin said timidly. He knew Yoongi was right, but he still couldn’t bring himself to bother the others for help.

“You have physio today, right?” Yoongi was already in Jimin’s dresser rooting through his clothing.

“Yeah, I wanted to wear - ” Yoongi pulled a white tank top from the drawer just before Jimin said it. “Yeah.” He had a feeling the doctor today was going to want to see his shoulder. He hated the idea of being completely topless.

Yoongi helped him out of his pajama top and into the tank. He made it look so easy and it didn’t even hurt. He was quick and efficient, and a couple of minutes later he had a white hoodie in hand. “Wear it over your sling so you can take it off easily.”

Jimin nodded, remaining silent as Yoongi dressed him. He felt completely helpless.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, taking Jimin’s face in his hands. “You’re ok.”

Jimin’s eyes locked with his and Yoongi offered a soft smile.

“I have to go, but I left you some breakfast downstairs. See you tonight.” Yoongi hugged him carefully, pressing his forehead against Jimin’s.

“Thank you,” Jimin said softly.

Yoongi nodded and letting himself out of the bedroom.

After Yoongi calmed him down, Jimin was able to drag himself downstairs into the well light kitchen, his eyes squinting as they adjusted. He spotted the bowl of yogurt and fruit on the counter, a slip of paper with his name on it in Yoongi’s writing.

His stomach flip-flopped at the sight of it, like it couldn’t decide if it was hungry and wanted to eat or if it was disgusted by the sight.

Not that it mattered.

His eyes fell to his sweater which was zipped up over his arm, his stomach appearing to protrude way out past his waistline. He consciously sucked in his stomach, his arm falling in further and a spark of pain shooting through his shoulder. He knew he was being ridiculous, but something in his chest felt tight anyway.

Without a second though, he picked up the bowl and dumped it into the sink, turning the water on and flicking the garburator switch.

He sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, his eyes locked on nothing in particular, but zoning out regardless.

The sound of a door closing caused him to jump, once again sending another jolt of pain through his arm.

His eyes caught on the coffee pot. It was still half full, and he pulled a mug down off the shelf and filled it with the dark liquid, the aroma overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes, the warmth helping him relax a bit.

When he opened them again, Jin was right in front of him. He nearly dropped his coffee, but Jin grabbed it out of his hand in time, taking a long sip of it.

“Wow put some sugar in that,” Jin said, his face twisting in disgust.

“Where did you come from?” Jimin asked.

“Uh, my bedroom?” He took another sip, still looking disgusted.

“Stop that,” Jimin said, taking the mug back. “Get your own.”

“By all means,” Jin said, letting Jimin take the cup back, “you go right ahead and drink your unsweetened dirt juice.”

Jimin nearly spat out his coffee.

“You might want to put that in a to go cup by the way, we’re going to be late,” Jin said, filling a cup with coffee before loading it with sugar.

“Late for…?”

“Your appointments. That’s why you’re down here dressed and ready to go, are you not?”

“I didn’t realize you were coming.”

“Were you planning to drive? It’s a bit late to call a taxi.”

“I hadn’t thought about that…”

“Didn’t think so. Let’s go,” Jin said, grabbing his keys off the counter. Jimin wondered if Taehyung had asked Jin to drive him. If he hadn’t been so busy feeling torn up over being useless, he would have been grateful.

It hurt. Everything fucking hurt. His back hurt. His neck hurt. And most of all, his shoulder hurt.

“Alright I’m just going to bend your arm this way, you might feel a bit of a pull,” the physiotherapist said, abducting Jimin’s arm from his body.

Jimin bit his tongue, unable to keep his face from contorting in pain as he felt hot tears enter his eyes. Ok that was more than a bit of a pull. It felt like there was fire stretching from his rib cage, into his shoulder and down his bicep. He couldn’t hold back a slight whimper as he bit his lip and turned his head away.

He was crying; actually crying. What adult cried as a result of physical pain? Why was he so fucking pathetic?

A hand found its way into Jimin’s, and his face immediately relaxed a bit as he opened his eyes. Jin’s hand was so much larger than his, and it was warm and soft as it gently squeezed his.

“You’re ok,” Jin said softly, a warm, comforting expression staring back at him. Jimin squeezed back.

“Where are you feeling the pain?” The young physiotherapist asked. He couldn’t have been older than thirty five, and Jimin would have even gone as far as to say he was attractive when he’d first arrived. Now, after he’d twisted and warped his shoulder, he probably wouldn’t be able to say the same.

“Under my collarbone,” Jimin said, clenching his eyes again, squeezing the life out of Jin’s hand.

The pressure in his shoulder was relieved and his arm was set back in its original position on top of the pillow that was pressed against his rib cage.

“Can you show me where?” The man’s voice had assumed a softer tone as he obviously saw that Jimin was in tears.

He hated, hated how weak he felt right now.

He took his left hand from Jin and carefully touched the spot where the majority of pain was radiating from. He sniffled hard, then wiped at his eyes. Jin’s hand then found his good shoulder.

“There isn’t a whole lot I want to do in terms of exercise. I think it’s too soon after the injury,” he said. “The best thing you can do is rest for the time being.”

“How long until I can dance again?” Jimin asked, nervous to hear the answer.

“You’re a performer, correct?”

Jimin nodded.

“I think it’s best we take a conservative approach. There’s definitely some damage to the rotator cuff ligaments, and if we want to prevent future dislocations we need to let it heal properly before we start thinking too much in the way of rehab. I want to say 12-16 weeks before you can really get back into, but maybe some light dancing after 8-10?”

Jimin just about fell off the table. If it wasn’t for Jin’s hand he might have rolled off on purpose. Unfortunately, he’d probably survive the drop and just injure himself worse.

Four months? What the hell was he going to do for four months? What was the rest of the group going to do? Was he going to be allowed to perform at all? Could he still be on stage with everyone? Would he want to be on stage with them if he couldn’t dance? That was a third of the year.

“We’ll see how things look next week. If things still aren’t improving the way we want we’ll get an MRI. Until then, rest, keep your shoulder still, wear your sling and ice.”

Now he really wanted to cry.

Jin’s hand slid into his once more.

“Alright, twenty minutes with the electrodes and ice and you’ll be good to go. I’m going to send one of the assistants in to get you set up. I’ll see you again next week, ok?”

“Ok,” Jimin said reluctantly.

As the man stepped out, a short, older looking woman bounced into the room, bursting with energy.

“Hi there, my name is Meg,” she said cheerfully as she pushed a cart over to the table housing a small machine.

“Hi Meg,” Jimin said, feeling a bit better now that the physiotherapist was gone. He sat himself up, cradling his arm which now just felt like dead weight rather than a limb.

“Jimin, right?” She asked. He nodded. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Jin,” the other said, wiping his now sweaty hands on his pants.

“Friend? Brother? You guys look a bit alike,” she said, unravelling wires from the small machine.

“Bit of both, really,” Jin said, offering one of his deadly smiles sure to make any old woman swoon.

“Alright Jimin, have you had the electrodes before?” She asked him, peeling off the backing of what looked like a thick white sticker.

“No,” Jimin said nervously. He was so tired of pain.

“They’re just going to stimulate the tissue to bring any inflammation down around the injury. It doesn’t hurt at all, it just feels a bit tingly.”

He watched as she put the sticker off to the side of his collarbone then the second she placed on the end of his shoulder blade.

“You can lie down now,” she said, guiding him back against the table and setting his head on the pillow. “Now some ice and we’ll start the timer.”

The machine felt weird. Like it was electrocuting him but very very gently. She was right, it didn’t hurt, but he could see how if it was turned up too high it could.

“Have you been sleeping alright?” She asked him as she set a large wrapped ice pack on his shoulder.

“Um, sort of I think,” he said, exhaling as he relaxed into the pillow. He wanted his hoodie. He felt cold and exposed.

“In what position have you been sleeping? Are you using a chair?”

“Actually I’ve been sort of sleeping on my friend,” Jimin admitted with a bit of a forced laugh.

“Oooh, a girlfriend?”

“What? No,” Jimin said, his face flushing.

“You know you can still engage in sexual activity when you’re injured, you just need to be safe about it. Here, I can show you,” she said.

“What? No, that won’t be necessary.”

He could hear Jin giggling as she came around to the other side of the table.

“I insist,” she said, “just in case you change your mind.”

Jin was now laughing out loud and Jimin was quite certain that his face was more red than his sweatpants.

“So really what you have to do is let her take the wheel, if you know what I mean,” she winked at him and then proceeded to hoist herself up onto the table. She was remarkably mobile for an older woman. “Just hold still.”

“What?” Jimin wailed. He tried to sit himself up, but the electrodes attached to his shoulder pulled at the machine and he was forced to lie back down.

“Just relax,” she said, throwing her leg over top of his body.

Jin was howling with laughter. He was far beyond his windshield wiper laugh and was bordering on silent laugh mode.

As if things couldn't get any worse, Meg started thrusting above him. “See, you just need her to make gentle movements like this. You will definitely still be able to reach your climax, she just needs to be careful.”

Jimin wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He had his eyes clenched and his good hand over his face as he willed the awkward moment to be over.

“Do you want me to show you some other positions?”

“YES!” Jin cried.

“NO!” Jimin said. “No I’m good, thank you,” he said, raising his hand to keep her from getting closer.

“Alright, well there’s a brochure up front if you’d like to take one on your way out,” she said, climbing off of him and patting his leg. “Do you have any other questions?”

“No,” Jimin said quickly from beneath his hand.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Jin burst into laughter all over again as soon as she was out of the room.

“I hate you so much right now,” Jimin said. He couldn’t even look him in the eye.

By the time they left the clinic Jimin was tired, sore and mentally exhausted. He really just wanted to go home and cuddle up to Taehyung and fall asleep. Unfortunately he knew Tae was going to be late tonight, so he was on his own if he wanted to sleep.

Jimin had a feeling that he was going to be forced to talk about his counselling appointment as well. Jin had asked how it went when he’d left the office, but Jimin had shut him down pretty quick. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to let him get away with that.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Jin said brightly. He was still positively beaming thanks to the physio assistant’s mortifying demonstration.

“I’m not that hungry,” Jimin said. He didn’t want to eat or go anywhere else.

“No?” Jin asked, his tone shifting slightly as he unlocked the car.

“I had a big breakfast,” Jimin lied. He knew they’d talked about him while he was in the hospital. They knew he’d been dieting, but none of them knew quite how extreme it was. Well, maybe Taehyung. Jimin wondered how much he’d shared.

“Jimin,” Jin said, setting his hands on the steering wheel, making no motion to start the car. “I saw you throw the breakfast Yoongi left you away.” He looked up at Jimin.

Busted.

“Your body can’t heal if you don’t eat,” Jin said. He sounded unusually serious, but somehow it didn’t sound as harsh as Jimin might have expected.

He looked away. A part of him wanted to fight, to tell Jin to mind his own business and leave him alone. He’d fought this battle so many times over the last few days and he had nothing left. He didn’t have the energy, the conviction… he was tempted to just give in. He didn’t even know what to say.

Jin turned the car on and shifted it into gear, pulling out of the parking lot.

They were silent as they drove. Jimin was scared. Would Jin tell Yoongi and Namjoon? Would they all end up lecturing him together? Were they going to start monitoring his meals? Now was so not the time, not while he couldn’t exercise.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, he felt tears creeping into his eyes. Why couldn’t he control himself today? Why was he so fucking weak?

“Jimin, do you trust me?” Jin asked. Jimin realized then that they had pulled over to the side of the road in front of a strip mall. Jin was watching him. He looked concerned, his lanky body leaning forward, arms wrapped around the steering wheel. He was so good looking. It made Jimin feel a bit envious. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this around Jin.

“Yes,” Jimin said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

“Ok, wait here then,” Jin said. He let himself out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition with the heat on.

Jimin tried to curl in closer on himself, only then feeling how cold he really was. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his feet up, but the movement hurt. Not bringing his painkillers had not been a smart move. The ice and the electrodes had felt good at the time, but now that they were gone and he was sitting up, the pain was back. But the more he tried to distract himself from the pain, the more he thought maybe it was a good thing.

He thought about his counselling appointment, and how the doctor kept using the word ‘sick’ to describe him. It made him feel so delicate and broken. He thought about Jin calling him out on throwing away his breakfast. He thought about the fact that he couldn’t exercise. That was normally how he overcame these waves of emotion, but clearly it was going to be some time before he could do that again. Four months, by the sound of it.

By the time Jin returned, Jimin was drowning. His mind was completely overcome with all of the negativity he was feeling that he’d jumped when Jin opened the door, the pain the only thing managing to ground him.

“Are you ok?” Jin asked, eyebrows arching high in concern.

Jimin realized how quickly he was breathing, and Jin set down the two drinks he had in his hands and reached for him.

“You’re ok,” Jin said, running one hand through Jimin’s hair, the other massaging his forehead that Jimin now realized was extremely tense. “Calm down. Whatever you’re thinking isn’t important right now. You be here, with me.”

Jimin nodded, trying to take deep slow breaths.

“Here,” Jin said, handing him the smaller of the two styrofoam cups. “I got you a smoothie. It’s a low fat kale and yogurt smoothie with extra protein. There’s bananas and apple and strawberry in it as well. Try it?”

Jin held the cup up to his mouth, and Jimin took a small sip. It did taste good. “Thanks,” Jimin said.

“I can tell you exactly how many calories are in it if you want,” Jin said.

“It’s ok,” Jimin said. He took the cup in his good hand.

“I still count them too,” Jin said, glancing away and taking a sip of his own drink.

“What?”

“Calories. I’m very careful about what I eat.”

“Really?” Jimin asked, taking his mouth off the straw. Jin always seemed to eat so liberally, and of all of them Jimin would have to pick him as the member who enjoyed food the most.

“Yeah. I used to have a hard time with food before we debuted. I’m a lot better now, but I wasn’t always like this.”

“How? You’re worldwide handsome!”

“Jimin, I only have my looks. You guys are the voice and the dance. I’ve always known that, so I know I need to keep them up.” His words were so painful, and yet they didn’t seem to hurt him.

“What are you talking about? You’re a great vocalist and dancer.”

Jin smiled. “You’re kind, Jimin. But I didn’t tell you this so you could stroke my ego. I’m telling you this because you can watch your weight and still eat healthy.”

Jimin sighed. “I know,” he said. He knew, but it had never worked like he wanted it to. He didn’t have the body type that Jin had. He was naturally bulkier, short statured, short limbed.

“Start with the smoothie, ok?”

Jimin nodded, sipping his drink. It felt wrong, but at the same time, he knew Jin was right. His body wasn’t going to heal without food. He just needed to be careful what he ate. Right?

He knew it was right, but it didn’t make it any easier, didn’t make drinking this feel any less wrong. He was so programmed against it. When had it gotten this bad?

“Hey Jimin,” Namjoon said as he entered the kitchen.

“Hyung, I thought you’d still be recording?” Jimin asked, caught off guard. Jin had dropped him off at home on his way to the studio and he’d been looking forward to having a bit of time alone.

“No, I finished early today so I’m home. How were your appointments?”

Namjoon was sitting on a stool at the counter, a bottle of beer in front of him as well as his laptop. Jimin suspected that he was trying to work while waiting for him to get home.

“They were ok,” he said, knowing Namjoon would push further.

“Come have a seat?” He gestured to the stool beside him.

Jimin couldn’t exactly say no. Wordlessly, he approached his friend and slid onto the seat next to him. He stared at the counter in front of him, waiting to be pummeled with questions.

“Why do you look like you’re waiting for me to scold you?” Namjoon asked, his tone light.

“I just spent all day talking about my problems to people who only care because they’re paid to. I’m sorry,” Jimin said, “I know you want answers, but I can’t really give them to you.”

Namjoon sighed lightly, leaning forward on his elbow against the counter. He reached out and set his hand on Jimin’s good shoulder, making him finally look into his hyung’s eyes.

“I know you don’t have answers. If you did, none of this would have happened. I’m sorry, you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m just worried about you, like worried sick about you, and if there’s anything I can do to help… please tell me.”

There was something in Namjoon’s tone, something unfamiliar, that felt strange to Jimin. Their leader was always so on top of things, so in control. Jimin had a suspicion that Namjoon felt a lot like he did right now: Helpless.

“I know you don’t want to be bugged, and I know you love the subtle ways Hoseok looks out for you and Taehyung will wait all day for you to ask for help, and I wish I could do that too for you, but I need to know that you’re ok. My anxiety doesn’t allow that kind of patience.”

And that confirmed it. Jimin sniffled, running a hand through his hair then reaching for Namjoon’s beer. He’d already killed his diet with the smoothie, so why not, right? He was quiet for a moment, leaving Namjoon hanging as he tried to figure out what to say.

He took a deep breath. “Hyung, I’m sorry for worrying you. You know it’s the last thing I want to do.” It was true. He typically went the great lengths to hide how not ok he was, especially from Namjoon. He worried about all of them so much, even when he didn’t need to. But Jimin knew why he was so worried now. He had every right to be.

Namjoon stared back at him, nodding as Jimin took another sip of the beer. He looked different. The lines on his face made him look older, but his expression looked like that of a child. He looked vulnerable and afraid, and Jimin hated that it was him making Namjoon feel this way. All he’d ever done was take care of Jimin. He didn’t deserve this.

“To be completely honest,” Jimin said slowly, setting the beer back down and wrapping his left arm around his right, “I’m not ok. I don’t know what else to say.”

Namjoon reached out and set his hand on Jimin’s knee, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

“I will be, though,” Jimin said. He wasn’t sure how much believed it, but he knew it was what Namjoon needed to hear. “My body will heal, then I can focus on the other stuff.”

Namjoon looked like he was going to cry. He didn’t. Instead he took a deep breath and nodded. Jimin took his hand, and Namjoon squeezed back.

It was so easy to forget that Namjoon was only a year older than him. Being the leader forced him to be mature beyond his years, but after Jimin, he was the next youngest. Jungkook had worded it probably the most accurately. Seeing his brothers in pain was harder than being in pain yourself. Namjoon probably felt this tenfold, as he was the leader and felt responsible. If the roles were reversed, Jimin would be hurting for Namjoon too.

But that meant one thing and one thing only. Jimin needed to keep his damn emotions to himself. He needed to not burden the others like this. He might not be able to hide his injury, but he could hide the rest.

The shower ran hot around him, the hot water pounding his hair, dripping down his face as he dropped his head, the steam filling his lungs and making it feel easier to breathe. The warmth was welcomed, but it did little to quiet his mind.

It was all too much, trying to keep himself afloat, trying to stay on track, working towards his goals, but then doing it without making the others worry. He’d already made Tae cry, triggered Jungkook; if Namjoon had cried tonight he didn’t think he would have been able to stand it. He might have lost it completely right there and then.

He wanted to be better, to be healthier. He wanted it for himself, but he wanted it more for his friends. He hated seeing them hurt for him. He hated worrying them. Why did it feel so impossible to be happy for both himself and for them?

He wasn’t even sure that he knew what it meant to be happy anymore. What was happiness? What made him feel that way?

Performing. Being on stage. Hearing the fans chant their names. Seeing them smile. That was what brought him happiness.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option right now. And it might not be for some time.

So how was he going to better himself in the meantime?

He sat on the shower floor blinking the water out of his eyes as it fell from above. The temperature hadn’t changed, but somehow it felt like it was burning his skin now. Every drop a bit of irritating pressure, the warmth now nearly suffocating him.

Leaning forward he turned the tap off then pushed open the shower door. The room swam with hot steam and he cursed himself for forgetting to turn on the fan. He brushed the hair off his face and allowed his vision to focus again.

His eyes settled on the toilet across the room. And he thought of what Jungkook had told him.

Maybe that was the answer.

He ignored the pain and pulled himself up off the floor of the shower and dragged himself across the room. He tracked water across the floor but he didn’t care. He knelt down in front of the porcelain hardware and lifted the lid as he considered the smoothie and the beer he’d consumed.

Yes, this was progress. It was a step in the right direction. No one else needed to share this burden.

Chapter Text

“Jiminie! You haven’t worn makeup in days!”

He looked up to find his best friend in his doorway, his makeup bag under his arm.

“I can’t use my right arm,” Jimin commented flatly.

“Good thing I can,” Taehyung grinned, skipping across the room and seating himself cross-legged on Jimin’s bed across from him.

Jimin sighed, holding so much appreciation for his friend in that moment. He knew how difficult he’d been to deal with over the last few days, and yet Taehyung remained steadfast; staying by his side, sleeping with him each night, letting him squirm and whine and and even cry until he found a position comfortable enough to sleep in.

“Come on, you’ll feel better,” Taehyung said, pulling out his favourite bottle of moisturizer. His bangs were pushed up off his face and held back in hair pins. He looked completely adorable and it melted Jimin’s heart. Tae usually liked his bangs down as he was able to hide behind them, so it usually meant something when they were pulled off his face. He was in a good mood. Jimin needed to not ruin that.

“Fine, fine, you win,” Jimin said, running his left hand through his hair.

“I always win,” Tae grinned. “Here, put this on.”

Jimin took the white hair band and pulled it over his head, struggling some with it, but managing to use it to hold his hair back and out of Taehyung’s way. They didn’t often do each other’s make up. It had been a novelty when they’d first debuted, feeling fancy enough to get done up when they left their dorm, but now it was more of an expectation. They were expected to uphold their name whenever they left the dorm. Most of the time their makeup artists took care of them, but on the rare days they had time off they typically just threw on what they needed themselves. In a life that offered so little free time, taking those extra few minutes to put on makeup felt like way less of a thrill than it had back in the early days.

“When was the last time I did this?” Taehyung asked, rubbing the lotion into Jimin’s skin with a sponge.

“I have no idea,” Jimin said.

“Well aren’t you just lucky then. You know I’m better at this than Sooyeong.”

“Not likely,” Jimin laughed. His favourite makeup artist had perfected his look, giving him a smokey eye that had generated thousands of Youtube videos that attempted to replicate it.

“Hey now, that’s no way to talk to someone who just offered to make you beautiful.”

“Yah yah, you’re not bad,” Jimin said, trying to keep his tone light. He still didn’t feel very upbeat, but he was trying.

In fact, when they’d started out, Taehyung was the only one who really knew how to do makeup in any kind of acceptable way. Now Jimin felt like he could do it in his sleep, but it still felt nice to have someone doting on him like this. It had been a few days since he’d been near a stylist, and the fact that it was Taehyung working on him felt special.

“You’ve gotten paler since the last time I did this,” his friend stated, mixing colours on the back of his hand before using a brush to blend the foundation into his skin. “And my god these bags. Have you even slept?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jimin said. “I’ve been sleeping on you all week.”

“Hmm, right,” Teahyung said, picking up an eyeshadow pallet and glancing back and forth between Jimin and the pallet. “I think you’ve been sleeping ok. Probably not great though. I’m thinking pinks.”

Jimin said nothing, just sat there and closed his eyes as he felt the familiar stroke of high quality brushes trace his eyelids, defining his creases and hiding his flaws.  

“Why are you home so early anyway?”

“I finished recording first,” Taehyung said. “Open.”

Jimin opened his eyes as he was told.

“Ok, close. How do you feel about gold liner?”

“Sure,” Jimin said. He didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see him.

But just as Taehyung was finishing, their doorbell rang.

“Oh look, your date’s here,” Tae smiled.

“What? My date?”

Taehyung just grinned and hopped off the bed.

Jimin sat there, glancing around the room and straining his ears, fully confused. He could hear voices, but couldn’t make out what was being said. Finally Taehyung returned, and with him came another friend.

“Taemin-hyung?”

“Hey baby boy!” Taemin cried, nearly crashing into him with a hug. “Oh my god look at you!”

He was more gentle than Jimin expected given his momentum, and he returned the hug as best as he could with one arm. “Hyung, what are you doing here? I’m still in my pajamas!”

“I’m kidnapping you,” Taemin said, pulling Jimin out to arms length. “And from what I hear you’ve been in your pajamas all week!”

“Kidnapping?” Jimin asked, feeling insecure in such casual clothing.

“Well, I have permission from Namjoon, so I’m not sure it qualifies as kidnapping. But it may or may not be against your will.” Taemin stood about half a head taller than him, but he was much thinner and his torso was smaller. He had always been all legs and long arms, a picture perfect dancer admired by so many. His black skinny jeans showed off just how slender his legs were, and he wore a short cut navy leather jacket which proudly accentuated his broad shoulders. Jimin had always been a little jealous of how perfect Taemin looked, but he could never let it interfere with their friendship.

“Um, where exactly do you plan on taking me?”

“Anywhere outside of this dorm,” Taemin smiled. “Now would you like to get dressed?”

“Easier said than done,” Jimin said, hugging his injured arm protectively. The prospect of changing his shirt was not a desirable one and his shoulder stung just at the thought.

“I mean, I don’t judge. If you want to keep your pajamas on I’m cool with it. Otherwise I can help? Or I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t mind?”

This was so weird. Two of his closest friends in his bedroom, both in sock feet. Sure they’d met at music shows before, but this was just awkward. He glanced at Taehyung, who raised his eyebrows at him.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Taemin said, nodding and stepping out of the room.

“You knew he was coming?” Jimin asked as he pulled his arm out of his sling with some difficulty.

“Yep,” Taehyung replied. “What shirt do you want?”

“I don’t know! And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have texted him and told him not to come! Fine, you’re wearing the pink one!”

“I still can! I’ll tell him to leave! And what’s with you and pink today?”

“Hold still,” Taehyung said, threading his bad arm through the shirt before pulling it around him and moving in front of him to button it for him. They’d been doing this a few days now. They’d figured out the routine. “I’m pretty sure he offered and is now under strict orders from Namjoon-hyung to get you out of the house.”

“You could have told me that!”

“I was sworn to secrecy,” Taehyung laughed. “Light wash or dark?”

“You’re enjoying this!”

“Light it is,” Taehyung grinned. He knew Jimin’s closet so well that he knew exactly which drawer to open to find the jeans he wanted.

He helped him into his pants and then his sling, finishing his outfit with a white scarf. Jimin glanced down at himself. Aside from his black sling clashing with his outfit, he was happy overall. He didn’t think he had the mental capacity to piece together an outfit right now, so he was grateful to Taehyung, though he wasn’t about to say it. He continued to play the victim instead.  

“You need a hat. Your hair is a mess.”

“I’m blaming you for this. I could have washed it or at least combed it if I knew I was going out!”

“Stop whining. You look fine.” He slapped a grey hat on Jimin’s head, one of his own that Jimin had borrowed recently. “Earrings? Jacket?”

“Yes,” Jimin said, quickly adding a quiet “please.”

Taehyung pulled a grey jacket out of his closet and set it on his shoulders. Next he went for Jimin’s shelf and pulled out a pair of small, simple hoop earrings. Jimin held his head sideways as Taehyung put the earrings in for him. He was quick but gentle, and Jimin felt somewhat put together for the first time in days.  

“Need anything else?”

“Yeah, I need to hit you,” Jimin said, gently punching Tae’s shoulder.

“Ow! Rude! After I did your makeup AND dressed you!” He dramatically shouted as the two of them went downstairs.

“Everything ok?” Taemin asked as the two came into sight. He was perched on a stool with his cell phone in his hand, long legs elegantly crossed in front of him.

“No,” Taehyung said.  

“Yes,” Jimin insisted at the exact same time. “Tae is being a drama queen.”

Taemin took Jimin to a small pub owned by his uncle that he’d been to once before for Taemin’s birthday. Taemin had driven, but he parked his car underground so his cousin could take it home for him. “We need to have some drinks. I think we both need to blow off some steam and relax a bit,” he’d told Jimin as he’d put the car in park. Jimin couldn’t have agreed more.

It had a more private section where they could sit and not be exposed so that no one would recognize them. Jimin was grateful for this, as the last thing he wanted was to be seen by the general public in this state.

The restaurant was warm, and the high booth they perched themselves in was comfortable with soft seats and a large thick wooden table. Jimin struggled a bit but managed to pull off his jacket and set it behind him.  

“What would you like to drink?” Taemin asked, opening the drink menu and flipping through, but clearly not paying much attention to it. He knew his drinks well, and Jimin had never heard him order just a plain drink without making some fancy modification to it.

“You decide. Nothing super sweet though please,” Jimin said, adjusting himself so he was comfortable against the back of the booth. The table could easily have held six or seven people, but the two of them sat at the very back with their arms pressed together. It was nice, really; Jimin hadn’t hung out with Taemin in so long. There was something comforting about him in this atmosphere, sitting slightly taller than him, flagging down the waiter and ordering their drinks. Taemin oozed confidence, but not in a cocky way. Jimin wondered if it partly came from being the youngest member in his group, as he was much like Jungkook in that sense.

“Martinis?” Taemin said to the waitress, half asking Jimin. Jimin wanted to shrug, but as he couldn't make his shoulders do that, he simply nodded.

“Gin with ginger liqueur and a splash of lime, please,” Taemin said. The waitress smiled and nodded at him. Jimin couldn’t tell if they were flirting or if Taemin just always came off that way. He was sure that the waitress was far from the first who had fallen so quickly over Taemin’s smile like that. Jimin even found himself smiling at it.

“So how long are you out for?” Taemin finally asked as he took a sip from his drink. Jimin knew it was coming, how could it not be? He had however hoped that he might have had more time to get some alcohol in him.

“I don’t know,” Jimin said, sipping his own drink. It definitely wasn’t sweet. It tasted strong but it didn’t have the burn that cheap liquor tended to have. Instead it tasted tarte and bold as it hit his tongue, warming him from the inside out as it trickled down his throat. It also tasted like he was going to be drunk very quickly if he kept drinking these, especially with the pain medication he was taking. He hadn’t taken anything since around lunch time, and while he knew the pills were due when Taemin had showed up, he had a feeling something like this would happen and he refrained. “A few months probably.”

“Shit,” Taemin said. “Sorry to hear. I saw the videos…”

“Yeah? I still haven’t watched them,” Jimin admitted honestly.

“Don’t,” Taemin said as he took another sip.

“Why?”

“Just don’t. You don’t need to see yourself like that. Honestly no one needs to see that. I hate that people post stuff like that but there’s no way around it unfortunately. Did the doctors have anything to say about why it happened?”

Jimin took another long sip and drained nearly half his drink.

“Hey slow down there,” Taemin said, placing a hand on Jimin’s hand which was wrapped around the bottom of his glass. His grip was tighter than he realized, and he relaxed as Taemin’s soft, warm hand engulfed his own small one. “You don’t have to tell me,” Taemin said, “but you know I’m a nonjudgmental ear. I know you have six amazing brothers, but you live with them and see them every day. I thought it might help to vent to someone you don’t have to answer to on the daily.”

“You know, don’t you?” Jimin asked.

“I don’t assume and I don’t judge. We live in this crazy demanding world together. I know what it’s like. But it’s hard to miss the fact that you’ve lost a ton of weight. The headlines have had a lot to say, but obviously I’d rather ignore those.”

“What are they saying?” Jimin asked, suddenly interested.

“You know you aren’t supposed to worry about that kind of thing.”

“What are they saying?” Jimin repeated his words in a lower tone. He needed to know. He had to.

Taemin sighed and took another gulp of his drink. They were both over half way through already, and he nodded to the waitress as she walked by.

“You know how the tabloids are. Exercise addiction, drugs, dieting, eating disorders, you name it,” Taemin said. Jimin felt the specific term hit a nerve, but he shifted in his seat to hide any movement it might have caused to his body.

“Jimin, are you ok? Is there anything you want to tell me? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt his inhibitions draining away, and suddenly he wanted to talk. Taemin was right. He was his friend and he understood better than anyone. He’d been in the industry since he was a preteen and he’d grown up here.

“I’ve been dieting,” Jimin said, picking up his drink and tossing the rest back, ignoring the straw all together.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“I know.”

“You look really good,” Taemin said, offering a smile.

“Are you supposed to say that?”

“Isn’t that what you want to hear? Isn’t that why you do it? Because you want to look a certain way?  You’ve obviously worked so hard, isn’t it right for me to compliment you?”

Jimin thought about it. His brothers told him he looked handsome all the time, but no one had ever quite put it like that before.

“I know it isn’t good. I mean, look what I’ve done to myself,” Jimin said as he reached up to hold his bad shoulder. “It’s going to be such a long time until I can dance again.”

“So why keep doing it?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin said incredulously. Taemin almost sounded insensitive now.

“So what you’re saying is that you know it’s not right, you know you shouldn’t do it, but you can’t stop. Right?”

“Yes!” Jimin said.

The waitress arrived with two more drinks and Taemin tipped the rest of his drink back. She replaced the two empty glasses with a fresh round.

“I’ve dealt with anxiety since I was a kid. I know what irrational thoughts are like. You know how messed up what you’re doing is, but you can’t make yourself stop. Other people point out that irrationality and it makes it even more frustrating because you know how stupid it is, but you can’t do anything about it.”

“Exactly!” Jimin said. “Oh my GOD someone gets it!”

“I’m sorry, Jimin,” Taemin said, his hand finding Jimin’s shoulder, “I would never wish those feelings upon anyone.”

“Same to you,” Jimin said.

“To fucked up thinking,” Taemin said, holding his second drink up and cheersing Jimin.

Jimin laughed and took another sip. Perhaps it was just him, but this one tasted stronger.

“You know, funny story,” Taemin began, “I hope this doesn’t come off as insensitive, but I feel like I should share. Back when you guys debuted you obviously caught my attention as a dancer, but more so because I was so envious of your build. You were so perfectly muscular but soft at the same time.”

Jimin chuckled into his drink. “Want to trade bodies?”

“Fuck yes I do!” Taemin said. “I’ve been going to the gym trying to put on weight and it’s killing me! Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Jimin said. “I always wanted your body type. Your’s and Jin-hyung’s. You guys are so tall with perfectly slender long limbs. I just feel so… chunky next to you guys.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you’re not. I know it can’t be fixed just by me saying that,” Taemin said. “But you’re gorgeous, Jimin. You might not believe me, but you are.”

Jimin smiled at Taemin. It was nice to hear from him, someone who was so internationally famous, respected and just overall perfect in Jimin’s eyes. “Thanks,” Jimin said.

“And your contemporary dance is just unrivaled,” Taemin said, sipping his drink again. “No one compares, expect maybe Hakyeon. That dance you guys did last winter definitely showed that.”

“That was fun. He’s lovely. And so kind,” Jimin said, spinning his glass from the base.

“Actually he and Ravi were talking about coming out tonight. They said to text them if he wanted company.”

“They knew you were dragging me out tonight?” Jimin asked.

“They know we’re friends. Everyone I know is texting me asking if you’re ok.”

“That’s nice of them,” Jimin said, a bit uncomfortably. He drank some more of his drink. He felt like he was tasting the alcohol less and less now, but somehow he doubted the drinks were any less strong.

“The world is worried about you, ChimChim,” Taemin smiled, his hand finding Jimin’s.

“They shouldn’t,” Jimin said, not looking up, “I’m fine.”

“I wish I could believe you,” Taemin said, moving his hand up to Jimin’s hair to stroke it softly.

“Thanks,” Jimin said, leaning into Taemin’s arm, inching closer and feeling his warmth, smelling his soft scent. He was comforting, but it was strange being so close with someone that wasn’t one of his members.

Being with Taemin was nice. He did feel like he could tell him anything. He trusted him, and he also knew that he wouldn’t be lurking around the kitchen while he was eating to make sure he finished his meal. The others hadn’t really done that, but Jimin was afraid they would.

“Do you er… want to order some food? I realize this might be a bad question for you right now. No judgement if you don’t.”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Jimin said honestly. The drinks were hitting him hard, and he knew it was only going to get worse if he didn’t eat something. He could deal with the repercussions later.

Taemin ordered some appetizers and another round of drinks, though they managed another two before the food even arrived and they were both at the point of slurring their words. Not long after it came out Jongin showed up and he was highly amused by how drunk they were. He sipped on only a beer and ate with them, insisting that he was going to drive both of them home.

Jimin had had enough drinks at that point to socialize well with Jongin, answering his questions casually and chatting with him. He’d spent some time with him and Taemin before, but he didn’t know him super well.

“Ok so, in the new year the three of us are doing a dance collab, deal?” Taemin asked. “I”m serious, I’ll get my manager on it like right now.” He had his phone in his hand even before they agreed.

“Yep, I’m in,” Jimin said, slamming down another empty glass.

“Shots!” Taemin said, setting his phone down.

“Oh my god you guys are going to puke,” Jongin laughed.

“Want one?”

“Nope, this is your mess,” Jongin replied.

Jimin diligently took each shot as it was placed in front of him, though after two he started to feel nauseous. Something about that feeling in the pit of his stomach felt strange though, almost welcomed. Rationally he knew that throwing the alcohol up would probably make him feel better, not to mention less hungover tomorrow, but he knew there was more to it than that. He was drunk enough to have eaten uninhibited, though he’d done so little of it that it didn’t take much to fill his stomach. Even while overly drunk, his brain still worked in twisted ways.

After the third shot he excused himself and stumbled to the washroom. He was grateful to find that it was single person only, and he wouldn’t need to wait for other stalls to clear out.

It felt a bit disgusting on his knees in the public washroom, but he decided he didn’t care. As soon as he lifted the toilet seat he threw up without even having to try, an occurrence that left him wondering if he should perhaps drink more often. He wasn’t immediately filled the with guilt he’d felt before when throwing up. This was happening naturally… or… sort of. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and steadied himself but widening his knees. He leaned forward letting his head fall slightly into the toilet but without making contact with anything.

He flushed the toilet and hauled himself to his feet. While his head still spun, he definitely felt lighter and way less bloated. He allowed himself a moment to lean against the wall, close his eyes and attempt to collect himself. But the longer he remained there, the more his head started to hurt. And his head wasn’t the only thing.

He wasn’t sure when his shoulder had started to throb, perhaps he’d just become used to it over the last week, but the pain was worse now, and he knew it was because he hadn’t taken his pain killers before leaving. He was seriously regretting that now. Maybe he did need another couple of drinks.

His stomach churned at the thought.

Drinking had seemed like a good idea when Taemin had mentioned it, but now he felt like absolute garbage. He was sweating, his head pounding, his eyes burning. And the more he felt himself sobering, the more all of the bad things started coming back. His injury. What that meant. Cursing himself for allowing it to happen. The way he was dealing with it now. He hated the way everything raced back at the same time. Why couldn’t he ever just sort through one thought at a time?

Jimin knew he couldn’t stay there. He leaned over the sink and splashed a bit of cool water on his face, letting it warm up and drip down his chin before blotting it dry with a piece of paper towel. He was grateful Taehyung’s make up was waterproof. He chanced a look in the mirror only to find bloodshot eyes sunken deep in their sockets staring back at him. Anxious lines weaved their way across his forehead and even his hair felt like it was hanging tired down around his ears.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, against the raw mucus membranes, muscles aching and straining in pain as he did so. A final deep breath and let himself out of the bathroom.

The restaurant felt darker for which he was grateful. He hoped his friends wouldn’t notice how awful he looked.

If they did, they didn’t show it. Taemin’s face lit up with a genuine smile, a teasing smirk plastered across his face as Jimin slid back into the booth.

“You ok there, buddy?” Taemin asked as he wrapped his arm around Jimin’s waist and pulled him closer.

“Yeah, been a while since I drank like this,” Jimin said quietly, wishing he had a breath mint or something.

“Drink some water,” Jongin said, sliding a full glass of water towards him. “No one can keep up with Min.”

“Not my fault you’re all light weights,” Taemin laughed, sipping on yet another martini.

“You’re a borderline alcoholic,” Jongin said, shaking his head.

“Functioning,” Taemin corrected, “functioning borderline alcoholic.”

Jimin liked to drink as much as the next person. He worked his ass off and it was nice to have a drink when he got home after a long week when he didn’t need to be up the next morning. But it really had been a long time since he drank excessively. Alcohol came with a lot of unnecessary calories.

“Jimin, your mom’s here,” Taemin said, nodding across the room.

“Eh?”

Jimin looked up and found himself face to face with none other than Taehyung. His best friend looked half annoyed half concerned.

“Tae,” Jimin said, leaning forward.

“Hey buddy,” Jongin said, holding out a hand to shake Taehyung’s. Taehyung took it, but didn’t really pay him much attention as he did so, eyes trained strictly on Jimin.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh,” Jimin said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had 9 new messages and 2 missed calls from Taehyung. “Shit, sorry. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “Just…” he began, but found that everyone was watching him. “Worried about you,” he said looking away.

“Want a drink?” Taemin asked, sounding very intoxicated.

“Quit pressuring people to drink,” Jongin said, slapping Taehyung’s arm.

“I’m just being friendly!” Taemin insisted.

“I’m ok, thanks,” Taehyung said, standing there awkwardly.

“Well at least have a seat,” Taemin said kindly.  

Taehyung nodded. “Um, I can go,” he said to Jimin.

“Did you drive? I’ll come with you,” Jimin said. “Mind if I bail out early?” He asked Taemin. He really wasn’t in the mood for anymore drinking, and he really wanted his painkillers right now.

“No problem,” Taemin said, patting Jimin on his good shoulder. Even that hurt. “You guys get home safe, k?”

“Thanks,” Taehyung muttered.

“Can I pay?” Jimin asked, reaching for his wallet.

“Of course you can’t,” Taemin said, now get out of here and go get some rest.

Jimin glared back at him. “Thank you for everything,” he said. “I’ll get you back.”

“We’ll see about that,” Taemin smiled. “Feel better.”

Jimin nodded and followed Taehyung out.

He hadn’t realized how cold it was outside, as he’d left through their underground parking lot and driven straight into the restaurant's underground with Taemin. Now that he was outside he found himself shivering, tensing his right shoulder, and in more pain than before. Despite that though, the air felt nice on his face which he now realized was unusually warm. He felt the heat on his forehead as he ran his hand through his hair. God he needed a shower.

“You ok?” Taehyung asked, sounding a bit more relaxed now.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, uncertain as to whether or not it was true.

“Cold?”

“A bit, yeah,” Jimin said. He had his jacket, but it was more fashionable than functional and he wished he’d put a warmer one on.

“Here,” Taehyung said, pulling off his own warmer jacket and setting it on Jimin’s shoulders. He didn’t zip it up, but even so it already felt warmer.

“You don’t have to. You’ll get cold,” Jimin argued.

“I’m not cold,” Taehyung said. “And the car isn’t far.”

Jimin watched Taehyung’s shoulders to look for any sign that he was lying, but he appeared relaxed in the frigid environment. He was weird like that. Sometimes he was freezing no matter how warm the room was, other times he could bear negative temperatures without batting an eye.

“Thanks,” Jimin said.

They took a few more steps in silence before Taehyung apparently seemed to let himself really relax and slid an arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Sorry if I spoiled your night.”

“You didn’t. I was ready to leave,” Jimin said truthfully, letting his steps fall into pace with Taehyung’s. “What made you come find me though?”

“I was just worried when you didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be gone for and I knew you didn’t take your pain meds with you.”

“Thanks for thinking of me,” Jimin said. He leaned in closer to Tae and set his head on his shoulder while they walked.

“I’m glad you’re not mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Iuno,” Tae said, “drunk?”

“Do I seem drunk?”

“You’re staggering a bit,” Taehyung said, evidence of a smile in his voice.

“I’m a bit drunk,” Jimin admitted.

“We have beers at home if you want to keep it going,” Taehyung said. They approached the car and Taehyung unlocked the door and opened it, waiting while Jimin climbed in.

“I think it’s your turn to drink,” Jimin said, the thought of more alcohol making his unsettled stomach roll. Taehyung reached around Jimin and carefully buckled his seatbelt for him. He made sure the belt wasn’t resting on Jimin’s sore shoulder, pulling it around behind him instead.

“Thanks,” he said as Taehyung closed the door for him and climbed into the driver’s seat.

The ride home was relatively quick, and Jimin felt much more relaxed when they entered their apartment. It smelled like food, but Jimin declined, explaining that he’d already eaten when he’d been out.

“Tired?” Taehyung asked, helping Jimin out of his jacket.

“I need a shower,” Jimin said. “Painkillers and shower.”

“Do you want help?”

No .

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Jimin said. He really didn’t want help, and he was tired of asking, but he knew he needed it. He’d messed himself up too many times now trying to do things on his own, and given his state of intoxication right now, attempting this alone was probably a terrible idea.

“Course,” Taehyung said, lighting up at Jimin’s response. He’d been trying to talk sense into Jimin for so long, he was clearly ecstatic that it appeared to finally be working.

“Will you please take your contacts out?” Taehyung asked. They had the shower running, filling the bathroom with thick, warm steam and Jimin was really looking forward to getting under the hot water. Taehyung was helping him out of his shirt which was proving to be more painful than usual. Likely due to the fact that the painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet.

“Fine,” Jimin said, wincing as he tensed his torso to keep from falling over as Taehyung pulled his shirt off. He held his arm in position in the absence of the sling as he waited for the pain to subside.

“Can you do it? Or you need help?” Taehyung asked.

Jimin used his left hand to pluck the first lens out of his eye, then the second. He tossed them in the garbage, blinking rapidly as he attempted to adjust to being half blind again. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but it felt so good to have the lenses out.

He stepped into the shower, kicked the plug closed over the drain and moved into the stream of hot water. A sigh escaped his lips he didn’t even realize he’d been holding onto. A minute later Taehyung joined him.

“Is your arm ok?” Taehyung asked, nodding at how Jimin was clutching at the injured limb.

“Still hurts,” Jimin mumbled, spinning himself in the hot water then stepping away so Taehyung could get himself warm as well.

“Stay under the water, get warm,” Taehyung said, setting his hand on Jimin’s good arm and steering him back into the water.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung insisted. But this time Tae definitely had goosebumps on his chest and on his arms, so Jimin moved over and insisted that Taehyung join him under the water.

“Come on, we can share.”

Taehyung gave a smile of defeat and moved closer.

“Can I wash your hair?”

Jimin nodded, turning himself so he was facing toward the wall to give Taehyung a better angle.

“Want to sit?”

He nodded again. Jimin had always liked sitting in the tub while the water ran down on him, hence why he’d closed the plug to allow the water to fill up.

Taehyung kept his hand on Jimin’s back as he sat, making sure he didn’t lose his balance and fall. Once Jimin was sitting, Taehyung sat down behind him and picked out Jimin’s favourite hair products.

Jimin heard him squirt a small amount of shampoo into his hands before lathering it between his palms, then began working it into Jimin’s scalp. Taehyung gave the best massages, and Jimin felt himself melting into the feeling, letting his head lull back, Tae’s skilled fingers working the tension out of his temples.

“So good,” Jimin said quietly, unsure if Taehyung could even hear him.

“Good.” Apparently he could.

He massaged for another few minutes before rinsing the suds out and started the process all over again with conditioner. Jimin felt like he could fall asleep there, eyes closed, body relaxed, not to mention the fact that the painkillers were finally kicking in. They were also making him feel a little bit dopey though, likely a result of the medication mixing with the alcohol.

“Gonna fall asleep,” Jimin mumbled, leaning sideways until his head hit the wall.

“Come on Chim, let’s get you rinsed off and out of the bath. You can’t sleep here.”

“Why not?” He whined, leaning back against Taehyung.

“Careful, I don’t want to hurt you,” Tae said, catching him but only holding him by the neck and left shoulder. “Look at the back of your neck, it’s so red and irritated.” Jimin could feel Taehyung rubbing and massaging at the back of his neck.

“‘s from the stupid sling,” Jimin mumbled.

“Aw,” Taehyung cooed, and Jimin could hear the pout on his face.

“It’s ok,” Jimin said.

“Ready to get out?”

“Yeah,” Jimin said as he leaned forward and planted his good arm on the ground in front of him.

“Careful getting up,” Taehyung said. “Go slow.”

He certainly felt light headed, but Taehyung was there with him all the way, so he wasn’t afraid of falling. Once he was up Taehyung helped him wash himself and then rinse off, quickly washing his own hair and then turning off the shower. Jimin still had his eyes closed, but the minute the water left his body, he felt cold again.

“Hang on,” Taehyung said, and a second later there was a towel wrapped around him. A hand found its way to the small of his back and helped him step out of the shower.

Taehyung had another towel in hand and was drying Jimin’s hair, then moved to his legs in order to dry him quickly so he wouldn’t be cold. He was certainly awake now though.

“Did you bring pajamas?” Taehyung asked once Jimin was mostly dry.

Jimin shook his head.

“Of course you didn’t,” Tae laughed, “here.” Taehyung picked up a pair of dark purple pajama pants from the counter and held them out for Jimin to step into.

“Weren’t you going to wear those?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you cold. Put them on,” Taehyung demanded.

Jimin did as he was told, stepping into the pants and letting Taehyung dress him.

“You’re lucky the shirt is a button up,” Taehyung said, grabbing the matching shirt.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Jimin said as he allowed Taehyung to slide his bad arm through the first sleeve with complete trust.

“I have other pajamas, it’s fine. Besides, you look adorable in purple.”

Taehyung had him dressed and back in his sling in to time. “Want me to blow dry your hair?”

Jimin bit his lip, pondering the thought. He was cold, and he knew it would warm him up, but he felt bad asking Taehyung to keep taking care of him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said and reached for the blow dryer.

Jimin smiled at him as he wrapped his towel around his waist and turned on the blow dryer.

The warm air felt great on his head, not to mention the fact that his hair had been a mess since he’d hurt himself. It didn’t take long to dry, and Jimin knew Taehyung left the blow dryer on longer than necessary because he was clearly enjoying the warmth.

“Good?” Taehyung asked, setting the dryer down.

Jimin nodded. “Thanks.”

“Where are you glasses?”

“No idea,” Jimin said.

“Really?”

“In my room somewhere I think.” He never wore them. He hated them; hated the way they looked, the way they made him look younger, made his face look even more round than it already was.

“I’ll go look for them once I put clothes on,” Taehyung said. “Do you want to go to my room or yours?”

“Taetae’s room,” Jimin muttered, hugging his right arm.

Taehyung smiled and laughed. “Go,” he said, opening the bathroom door and patting Jimin’s lower back.

Jimin did. He left the bathroom and found his way back to Taehyung’s bedroom, realizing how thirsty he was when he got there. Of course he couldn’t open the water bottle with one hand, but Tae arrived a few seconds later and opened it before he could start beating himself up.

“Thanks,” Jimin said timidly.

“Jimin, it’s a water bottle. You don’t need to feel guilty for having me open it for you.”

Jimin knew this, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated nonetheless. He said nothing, and instead downed the entire contents of the bottle before Taehyung was even fully dressed. He pulled a long sleeved white shirt over his head, then held out his hand to Jimin. He looked up at him questioningly from the end of the bed.

“I’ll fill it up again. I’m going to find your glasses.”

Jimin said nothing, but handed him the bottle.

“Just relax and get into bed, ok?”

Jimin sighed and braced his arm, climbing over Taehyung’s pile of pillows to lean against the wall.

“Found them,” Taehyung said, returning with a triumphant smile on his face which Jimin could hardly make out. Regardless, he was a bit disappointed because now he had to wear his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked, carefully sliding Jimin’s glasses onto his face and hooking them accurately over his ears.  

With clear vision, he looked up at his best friend.

“Nothing. I hate my glasses, that’s all,” Jimin admitted, pushing them up the brim of his nose.

“Why? They look good on you,” Taehyung said as a smile formed on his face.

“Not as good as yours look on you,” Jimin protested.

“Nonsense,” Taehyung said, picking up his own glasses and putting them on.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile. Tae was so good looking.

“Want any of this?” Taehyung asked, handing Jimin a bottle of cider.

Jimin took the bottle and took a sip before handing it back to him.

“Taetae, do you think I’m fat?”

He had no idea where the question came from, but it seemed to catch Taehyung just as off guard as it did himself. Taehyung coughed, choking on his cider and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. Finally he recovered and looked seriously at Jimin.

“Of course I don’t,” Taehyung said. “Why would you think that?”

He wished he could shrug, he really did. “I don’t know,” he said, forced to verbalize his answer. “Do you think I’m good enough?”

More questions that he had no idea where they came from.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung said, sitting down, eyebrows arched high into his forehead. “Of course I do. You’re more than good enough. You’re perfect.”

“Do you think I’m good looking?”

“Yes, Jiminie, you’re beautiful, gorgeous. Why are you asking me this?” He reached forward and brushed Jimin’s fluffy bangs out of his eyes.

“If you tell me I’m good enough, I’ll believe you,” Jimin said, taking Taehyung’s hand in his.

“Why does my opinion matter so much to you though?”

Jimin shifted a bit, uncomfortably. “What if,” he began, “theoretically I told you I liked you? Like as more than a friend.”

Ok, he was definitely more intoxicated than he thought he was. Where the hell was this revelation coming from. He’d buried these feelings so long ago, determined never to vocalize them.

“You can’t ask something like that in a theoretical way, Jiminie.” Taehyung said, still completely taken aback.

“Well, I did,” Jimin said.

“Well,” Taehyung said, swallowing hard, “Then I’d say, theoretically , that would be my dream come true.” He looked at Jimin with complete vulnerability heavy across his face. He legitimately looked like he was going to cry.

“You can’t say something like that in theory!” Jimin protested loudly.

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” Taehyung said. “Jiminie… is this… real?”

“Yeah…” Jimin said, squeezing Taehyung’s hand tight now. “For me, anyway. What about you?”

“It’s real,” Taehyung said. “It’s always been real.”

“But how....” Jimin said, words failing him, his voice failing him. He felt like he was going to fall apart, going to melt into a pile of limbs and cease to function as a human being.

“What do you mean how?”

“I’m not good enough. I can’t be. You can’t possibly think that I am… can you?”

Taehyung pulled his legs up onto the bed and crawled closer to Jimin. He seated himself so he was sitting directly in front of him, and he reached forward, his hand wrapping around the back of Jimin’s neck, using it to anchor himself, pulling their faces together. He was slow and gentle, giving Jimin ample opportunity to pull back if he wanted, but Jimin did no such thing. He moved closer to Taehyung, his good hand grasping for Taehyung, finding Tae’s other hand and holding it tight, and finally their lips met.

It was like fireworks exploding.

Like the moment you wait for your entire life without even realize you’d been waiting. Jimin felt like his body was going to explode, that he was going to cry and laugh and scream all at the same time. The feeling was indescribable because everything was simply Taehyung. The way his hand felt to hold, the hand on the back of his neck, the taste of his lips on his own, the warmth of his mouth. It was perfect. The kiss was small, slow and gentle, and ended quicker than Jimin would have liked.

“That’s how,” Taehyung said.

And before Jimin realized it, he was crying.

“Park Jimin, you are so much more than good enough. You’re perfect, and you’re everything to me. I will tell you that every day until the day I die in hopes that someday you’ll believe me.”

Jimin sobbed, but he smiled, completely speechless.

Taehyung leaned forward and pulled Jimin closer, Jimin getting the idea and climbing into Taehyung’s lap. He was careful of his arm, but he held him tight, hugging him and letting him cry.

“I love you,” he whispered into Jimin’s ear. “I love you so much.”

Jimin sobbed harder, but he managed to choke out an “I love you too,” back.  

Jimin stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him as he drew a deep breath of air into his lungs. He steeled himself, attempting to fix his posture but feeling the pain especially in the back of his neck. He needed an ice pack or a heat pack or some kind of pack that’s going to fix him. He needs a new fucking body.

But that was beside the point.

He had a very important task right now, one that had his heart racing.

“I need to talk to Namjoon-hyung.”

“Are you going to ask his permission?” Taehyung had asked nervously.

“No. I’m going to tell him about us and then ask the best way to tell the others.”

Taehyung looked like he might cry in relief.

As if Jimin was going to let this go after so many years of subduing his feelings only to find out Taehyung felt the same way.

But all that aside, they were still coworkers, and this needed to be handled delicately.

He couldn’t decide if it was fate or simply a stroke of luck when he found Namjoon sitting downstairs in the kitchen by himself. He was perched at the counter, glasses falling down his face, staring at his tablet. He had an opened beer beside him and was still fully dressed in jeans and a v-neck. He looked like he’d walked in the door, sat down and forgotten to move for several hours.

“Hey hyung,” Jimin said as he climbed into the stool beside him.

“Jiminie,” Namjoon looked up, obviously surprised as Jimin sat down next to him. “How are you?” He closed something on his tablet and turned to Jimin.

“I’m alright,” Jimin said. “You?”

“Fine, just trying to finish a song I started. I think I need to leave it alone for a while though. The chorus just isn’t working.” He tapped his finger on the counter, staring at the tablet out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Is now an ok time to talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” Namjoon said. He picked up his drink and finished it then stood up to get another. “Want something to drink?”

He pulled a fresh beer out of the fridge and offered it to Jimin.

“No thanks, I’ve had enough tonight.”

“Oh right, you went out with Taemin tonight. How was that?”

“It was fun.” He left it at that, hoping to dismiss the small talk quickly.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Namjoon said. He sounded as though he was surprised, like he was expecting Jimin to complain about getting dragged out of the house.

“So what’s up?” Namjoon asked, setting a glass of water down in front of Jimin and then sitting back down beside him.

“Um…”

Shit, he really hadn’t thought about how he was going to say this.

“Let me guess, you and Taehyung are dating and you want my help telling everyone else?” Namjoon laughed. He was definitely joking, but Jimin stared straight back at him, more serious that he thought he’d ever appeared.

“Wait, actually?” Namjoon asked, his eyes growing large. He was completely shocked.

Jimin pressed his lips tightly together and glanced left, then right.

“Oh wow… I feel like an idiot.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a long sip from his drink.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? What? No of course not. Wait, so are you like, asking for permission?”

“No,” Jimin said. He tried to make his voice confident without coming off as too overbearing. He wanted to make it clear that this wasn’t up for question; he was merely informing Namjoon.

Namjoon was hesitating a bit, his age showing as it so rarely did. He’d obviously caught him completely off guard.

“It’ss like you said, I need help with… you know, how to tell the others. How do we make sure everything stays professional?”

“Oh man,” Namjoon said, taking a deep breath.

“You’re that surprised, hey?” Jimin asked as he wrapped his arm around himself.  Some of the adrenaline was leaving him and he was starting to feel cold again.

“Well I can’t say I was expecting this right now… but… no, I’m not that surprised. We’ve always said you two were soulmates. But yeah, wow.”

Jimin couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and he grinned wide at Namjoon who finally smiled back at him.

“This is it, isn’t it? This is what you need…” Namjoon sat up straighter, then leaned back in his stool a bit as be observed Jimin.

Jimin nodded slowly, the kind of nod that almost comes from your chest instead of the top of your neck.

“I can see it. You look… happy.”

“I am happy,” Jimin said. “Happier than I could have imagined.”

Namjoon’s grin grew, and soon he was smiling huge right back at Jimin. “Good.”

“But… this is still a job, and we probably still need to be careful, right?”

“Yes, as any of us would if we dated each other or anyone else. Or are you worried about it because you’re scared you might… break up?”

“No. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think we would stay together. I’m not going to put the future of the group at risk. How do we tell everyone else though? And what about management?”

“I don’t think you need to worry about the other members, do you?”

“No, I guess not.”

“As for management, do you think they need to know?”

“I don’t know?” Jimin said. That was why he was here, asking.  

“You won’t be publically advertising it, so I don’t think it’s any of their business.”

“Are you sure?”

“Let me worry about it for now, ok? I’ll talk to Yoongi-hyung once you guys tell him and see what he thinks.”

Jimin nodded. “Thanks hyung.”

“I want what’s best for you, Jiminie,” Namjoon said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I want you healthy, and now that I think about it, the more I realize this is really what you needed.”

Jimin smiled, not even batting his hand away.

“I thought to myself, what if I told him every single day that his body was beautiful. Now I realize why it couldn’t work. It wasn’t me you needed it from, it’s him.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course not,” Namjoon said. “It’s a different kind of validation. I’m happy you’ve found it.”

Jimin sighed heavily, “me too.”

“Now go upstairs, what are you doing down here? Go back to your new boyfriend. Wait, this is new right?”

“Yes,” Jimin laughed. “It’s new.”

“Alright, get going,” Namjoon laughed. “And take an ice pack with you so Yoongi-hyung doesn’t bust into your room.”

Jimin laughed, nodding at Namjoon and heading for the fridge.

His cheeks actually ached from smiling, and he closed his eyes tight, relishing this feeling. It was the first time in too long that he’d felt this good, but the best part about it was that as things stood, he didn’t think the feeling would be leaving anytime soon.

He was happy.  

<end>

Chapter Text

(nine months later)

“Alright guys, go take a break.”

Jimin took a deep breath and leaned forward with his hands on his thighs, dropping his head to catch his breath. He’d gone hard and it had felt great.

“You alright?” A hand gently slapped his back. He looked up to find Yoongi next to him.

He nodded in response. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said, offering a small smile.

“Can you show me that part with the spin again? Once you’ve caught your breath?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jimin said, straightening up. He flexed his shoulders back and stretched out his arms. His right shoulder no longer hurt, but the familiar weakness couldn’t be missed, the brace wrapped around his upper arm and across his chest a constant reminder of where he’d been. But he was better. So much better. He’d been dancing unrestrained for almost two months now and while he still hadn’t gotten back all of his strength, he felt like he’d made a lot of progress. It had been a long recovery, both mentally and physically, but here he was. He was back in the studio dancing long hours with his brothers. It was the same, but it was also different.

“Ok, start here,” Jimin said, straightening out his back, reaching up and out with his arms as his hands felt into their natural ballet posture. Yoongi mirrored his position, and Jimin smiled as he noticed how good the pose looked on him. Yoongi wanted the world to think he was a lazy sloth, but Jimin knew he was anything but.

“Me too, me too,” Taehyung said, jumping into line beside Jimin.

Jimin shot a grin at his boyfriend as he assumed the same position, the line of his body bordering on perfection.

“And one, two, three,” he said, moving slightly with each number he counted off, then repeating the process until Yoongi seemed to have it down. Taehyung had it from the start, he just liked to dance with Jimin.

“Good, that looks a lot better. Now the spin,” Jimin continued.

He watched Yoongi a couple of times before Namjoon stopped them. “Guys, let’s get lunch. The staff said we have an hour.”

“Sure, let’s finish after,” Yoongi said, dropping his pose and slouching his shoulders. Namjoon came up behind him and set his hands on Yoongi’s traps and began massaging gently.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Fried chicken!” Jungkook wailed from across the room.

“We had that yesterday…” Jin deadpanned.

“So? It was delicious.”

Taehyung turned to glance at Jimin who smiled back at him. He nodded, “I’m good for anything.”

His boyfriend grinned back at him, any signs of worry melting off his face and into his smile. Jimin had come so far. It wasn’t easy in the beginning, but he’d learned that food was not his enemy, and what he ate didn’t define who he was or how he looked. Looking in the mirror was still a struggle at times, but seeing the way Taehyung’s eyes lit up when he saw him made it a little easier.

“Alright, get on,” Taehyung said, turning his back to Jimin and crouching a bit, holding his arms out so Jimin got the idea he was meant to jump on his back.

He laughed and complied, hopping onto Taehyung’s back and feeling strong arms wrap around his thighs. He took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Taehyung’s neck, and Tae turned his head and offered him a soft smile that could literally have brought Jimin to his knees. He really had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispered quietly so that no one else could here. “You are perfect. And you’re everything to me.”

Jimin smiled huge. Taehyung had remained true to his word. He’d said to him every single day at least once. And with each time he said it, Jimin felt himself believing it a little more.

“Race you guys,” Jungkook said, crouching in front of Hoseok who quickly jumped onto his back.

“Loser buys,” Taehyung shouted as he ran for the door, Jimin bouncing on his back as he laughed out loud.

Jimin clung to his boyfriend tightly, arms wrapped around his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle of his deltoids along with the soft skin of his face which Jimin had pressed his own against. He could feel the grin on Taehyung’s face and he couldn’t hold back his own.

Taehyung ran, giggling wildly as he did so. Jimin couldn’t contain his own laughter; Taehyung’s was contagious.

The sun shone down on them and the air greeted them with a soft kind of warmth but with enough briskness to still be refreshing after their morning choreography practice. Summer was ending and fall was just around the corner. Jimin’s birthday was coming soon, and while he was looking forward to a new year, he would never forget this one. He would reflect back to some of the most trying times of his life, but adversity grows strength, and he had overcome so much. He’d faced his demons head on and was so able to find what it was that he needed to help him fight them. He knew he couldn’t do it alone, and so he held tightly onto his boyfriend, his best friend, his partner in life. And while he would continue to move forward in life, to try new things, to learn new lessons, he knew he could never lose sight of where he’d been. He’d glance back in the rear view mirror only to remember how much he’d grown. The battles he’d won made him who he was today, and together with his brothers and with his boyfriend, he’d continue to fight, to grow, and to flourish.

He couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store.