Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
Sometimes, Jimin thinks Fate is all a bunch of bullshit. It’s all just a bunch of numbers and invisible equations, right? Probability, the likelihood of chance. Bad bullets and empty canisters, and Jimin’s always been bad with numbers. Fate, with all of its ribbons and gravity and stardust, as predictable as percentages. Wouldn’t that be a twist?
But then there's Taehyung. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jeongguk. Seokjin. Yoongi. People who seem so made to be exactly what Jimin has been looking for, who fit whole in the places he's missing. For all the time he's spent with his kamikaze Kim Taehyung, it's the look on Yoongi’s face - like maybe once upon a time, he’d had his kingdom of cardboard and glass pulled down around him, too - that ties the knot in Jimin’s certainty.
"Doesn’t it feel like fate?" Namjoon had asked once, and Jimin looks at Yoongi and thinks, 'yeah, it does.'
See also: A story of found families, unpacking boxes, and one desperate dancer with a bad Busan accent figuring out how to be okay. A non-au, canonical journey of BTS’s first year though the eyes of one lonely Park Jimin, featuring some old bruises, several stolen cigarettes, and seven kids searching for the Edge of That.