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Jimin’s had a lot of unexpected things happen in his life. He’s learned to take it into stride by now, roll with the punches. Make lemonade out of lemons, look on the bright side, all that bullshit.
One of those things includes becoming roommates with Kim Taehyung.
They’d known each other, vaguely, back in undergrad. They had a few mutual friends, bumped into each other occasionally at parties, but nothing beyond that. In the handful of conversations they’d had, Jimin had found them to be complete opposites. Where Taehyung is all thoughts rounded by abstraction, Jimin is practical, grounded in facts. He’s a mathematician, after all--raised on solid logic and the reassurance of x + y = z.
Post-graduation, however, found them having one thing in common: the need for affordable housing after being sucked dry by student debt. Jimin needed to stay near campus since he's pursuing his PhD, Taehyung needed a roommate to split his overpriced rent with, and somehow, they aligned perfectly. Before he knew it, Jimin was signing the lease.
And that’s how Jimin ends up standing at the entrance to Taehyung’s apartment, freshly minted set of keys in one hand and the handle of his suitcase in the other.
“Hey,” Taehyung greets him. He’s in his pajamas, holding a bowl of cereal despite it being well past noon. “Slippers are right by the shoe rack, feel free to use any pair you want. Except for the yellow ones, my friend Seokjin wore them once and his feet smell like shit, so those are exclusively his now for the sake of mankind. Oh, and let me know if you need any help.”
Amused, Jimin says, “Thanks, Taehyung. For the warning and for offering to help.”
Taehyung throws him a peace sign and shuffles to the dining table.
Jimin toes his shoes off, picks a pair of fuzzy blue slippers with elephants on them, before wheeling his luggage into his new room. It’s completely empty aside from the disassembled bedframe and mattress he’d had delivered a few days prior, the blank walls staring back at him, sunlight slanting in from the window.
He'd lived in the same dorm room throughout undergrad, bits and pieces of his life piling up there over the years, and it's strange to think that this empty, lifeless room is his now. He pushes his luggage into a corner and sighs. He’s still got a stack of boxes waiting for him.
Taehyung sticks his head in shortly after Jimin lugs in the last of his boxes, offering his help again. They end up sitting on the floor, piecing together Jimin's Ikea furniture, and Taehyung chatters at him the whole time, rattling off the pros and cons of the apartment complex as if he owns the place. He’s almost rapturous when he speaks of the rooftop of their building, which apparently isn’t sketchy at all and has the most beautiful nighttime view. It makes Jimin smile.
Despite the ungodly nature of Ikea instruction booklets, with Taehyung’s help, Jimin’s room is set up in no time. They've both worked up a sweat, and Taehyung offers Jimin a drink. They sit at the kitchen table together, sipping at icy cans of Coke.
“So,” Taehyung says, “I guess there are some ground rules, or whatever.”
Jimin tilts his head to indicate he’s listening.
“One, be sure to check your pockets before you do laundry. I once left an onion in my pants and the washing machine broke. Maintenance was pissed. Two...” Taehyung puts a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that’s it. Do you have anything to add?”
“I think you’ve got it covered,” Jimin says in as serious of a tone as he can manage.
“Cool. Let me show you the laundry room, ever since the onion incident the washing machine only works if you spank it just right.”
Another unexpected thing in Jimin’s life: He actually gets along well with Taehyung. Really, really well.
Taehyung’s a good roommate--respectful, decently clean, doesn’t hog space--but it’s more than that. He makes Jimin laugh more than anyone else can, he always asks about Jimin’s day, he brings Jimin coffee and a gentle reminder to get some sleep when Jimin’s been grading his students' papers for hours. In turn, Jimin makes sure Taehyung doesn’t forget to eat when he’s glued to his computer hammering out code for a graphic design job, he never rushes Taehyung when he has something to say, he comforts him when he’s had a bad day. They’re like two sides of an equation, balancing each other out perfectly.
The months fly by. Jimin only grows closer to Taehyung; they reach the point where they’re a unit, one rarely seen without the other. Hoseok likes telling Jimin they’re codependent. Jimin likes telling Hoseok to shut up.
“I can’t believe we weren’t friends sooner,” Jimin says one night. They’re out on the rooftop Taehyung loves so much, sitting cross-legged on a quilt Taehyung had made out of his and Jimin’s old t-shirts, a bottle of cheap wine between them. It’s their favorite way to unwind from a day’s stress. “I always thought we were so different.”
Taehyung grins at him over the rim of his teacup (they have yet to invest in wine glasses, and Taehyung insists teacups are the next classiest thing). “Don’t dwell on the past, Jimin. You’re the Sasuke to my Naruto now.”
Jimin snorts. “Are those gonna be our Halloween costumes this year?”
“Hell yeah.”
Jimin sighs fondly. “You’re lucky. You’re the only person I’d cosplay for.”
“Aww, babe,” Taehyung coos. “You’re the only person I’d cosplay for, too.”
“Oh, really?” Jimin arches an eyebrow. “Because I’ve seen your Facebook photos from 2012.”
“Alright, you’re the only person I’d cosplay for, as a fully grown, mature adult.”
“Tae. You went to Anime Expo last year as Nick from Zootopia.”
“That was for myself and myself only, thanks.”
“So what you’re saying is you’ll be Naruto for you, and not for me?”
Taehyung leans closer, lips wine-stained. “Jimin, I’ll be anything for you.”
“You’re cute,” Jimin says, a little flustered. His face feels warm, and he’s not sure it’s from the wine.
Taehyung leans back. “So I’ve been told.”
“Your modesty is charming as always.”
They don’t talk for a bit, content to sip at their wine and gaze out at the sky. Their apartment isn’t in the best area, and the building is fairly run down, but the view here really is something to write home about. The Seoul skyline glimmers in the night like city-born stars.
“Can I tell you something?” Taehyung says, eventually.
“I don’t know. Can you?” Jimin grins impishly.
Taehyung pokes his forehead. “Shush. Anyway, you know how you said you wished we were friends earlier?”
“Yeah?”
“This is embarrassing, but back in undergrad, I was always too scared to talk to you.”
“Scared? Of me?” Jimin’s surprised. Taehyung has never struck him as shy. He’s got a big personality, emits the kind of spark inextinguishable by time or space; Jimin wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to befriend a tree.
“You were intimidating! You were this brainy math major on a cool dance team. I never knew what to say to you.”
“We had like, four conversations in three years.”
“There’s a reason for that, Jimin.”
A memory suddenly surfaces in Jimin’s head. He snaps his fingers and points at Taehyung. “I knew I saw you run away from me that one time in the library.”
Taehyung sniffs. “I did not run.”
“You speed-walked. It was definitely not normal.”
“I get it, I’m a loser.”
“You are. It’s okay, though,” Jimin says, reaching over to squeeze Taehyung’s fingers, softening the insult into gentle affection. “I mean, look at us now.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung curls his own fingers loosely over Jimin’s. “Look at us now.”
Jimin pushes his chair back and stretches languidly, his back cracking satisfyingly. A stack of his students’ most recent exams sits proudly in front of him. Every last one of them bears the marks of Jimin’s red pen. He’d finished grading in record time, the quiet lull of the university library doing wonders for his productivity.
He packs up his stuff and weaves through the rows of students with their heads craned over textbooks and fingers tapping away furiously at their laptops, waves goodbye to the librarian by the entrance.
Outside, he unlocks his bike from the rack, whistling a song he’d heard on the radio two days ago and hasn’t been able to get out of his head. He’s in a good mood; his faculty advisor had given him positive feedback on his dissertation thus far, and he usually doesn’t finish this early. He and Taehyung can go out to dinner together. They haven’t done that in a while.
The ride home is short, Jimin enjoying the breeze and fresh air after being cooped up in the library for so long. Still whistling, he locks his bike in the back of the building and heads up, taking the stairs two at a time.
He unlocks the apartment door, pushes it open, and immediately freezes. There, on the living room couch, is Taehyung, pressed underneath some guy, his shirt half-unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder. He turns his head sharply at the sound of the door. There’s a hickey blooming bright red on his neck.
“Jimin,” he says, a little breathlessly. “You’re back early.”
Jimin’s good mood plummets with enough force to shake the earth. He manages to get out a rushed “Sorry,” before fleeing to his room, shutting the door behind him.
He can feel his face burning. He’s embarrassed, but there’s also something else churning in his stomach, something acidic and sickening. He knows Taehyung’s gay, and he has no problem with it at all, so he doesn’t get why he’s reacting like this.
His mind replays the scene, over and over again: Taehyung and his kiss-swollen lips and delicate collarbones, and someone else all over him.
Taehyung doesn’t bring guys home that often, but the few times he has, Jimin’s been able to almost completely ignore them. It’s easy to pretend something isn’t happening when he can’t see or hear it. This is the first time he’s ever even seen one of Taehyung’s hookups.
Abruptly, he wonders what Taehyung’s type is. They’ve never really talked about it.
Through his door, he can hear Taehyung and his--friend? date?--speaking in hushed tones, and then, after a moment, the front door opening and closing. Jimin shuts his eyes and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, inexplicably relieved that the guy is gone.
A light knock at his door.
“Jimin?”
Jimin quickly arranges himself on his bed and pulls up Twitter on his phone so it doesn’t look like he was just standing in his room brooding. “Come in.”
Taehyung pokes his head in. “Hey.”
Jimin glances up. The hickey on Taehyung’s neck stares at him. He looks back down at his phone. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d be back so early.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sorry I, um. Interrupted.”
“It’s okay.” Taehyung waves a hand in the air. “I wasn’t that into him anyway.”
“Oh.”
An awkward silence stretches between them.
Taehyung clears his throat. “Did you eat yet? I had lunch with Seokjin hyung today, and there are a bunch of leftovers in the fridge.”
Jimin’s stomach chooses that exact second to let out a desolate gurgle, and they both laugh, the tension broken.
They eat together on the couch, talking occasionally, reruns of old One Piece episodes playing on the TV, and it’s like any other day. But time and time again, Jimin finds his gaze drifting to the hickey on Taehyung’s neck. He wants to scrub it away, erase all traces of it.
Eventually, Taehyung notices him looking.
“Is it really that bad?” He cranes his head every which way, trying to catch a glimpse.
Embarrassed at being caught, Jimin mumbles, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
Taehyung pokes at the hickey with his index finger, wincing immediately after. “Ooh. Feels like a big one. He was kind of rough.”
Is that what you like? The question pops into Jimin’s head, unbidden. He shakes it off. His roommate’s sex life and preferences are none of his business.
Jimin turns the conversation to Seokjin, not wanting to hear more about Taehyung’s hookup, and tries to ignore the way his chest still feels uncomfortably tight.
After that, things change.
Jimin finds himself hyperaware of the times Taehyung doesn’t come home at night, lying awake in bed and wondering who he’s with. What they’re doing. The thought of a nameless, faceless man touching Taehyung, branding him with his fingers, makes him nauseous, and he has to force himself to quiet his mind and go to sleep.
It’s during one of these nights that the realization hits Jimin. It all makes sense.
He’s homophobic.
Jimin buries his face in his pillow. This whole time, he thought he was open-minded. His parents raised him to love and accept everyone. But maybe he’s only okay with gay guys in theory. Maybe he’s not okay living with them or seeing them do stuff. Which makes him a total homophobe, right?
But it doesn’t make sense. Namjoon and Jungkook are two of his closest friends, and he doesn’t feel this way whenever he sees them being affectionate. Hell, Hoseok is bi, and he’s never felt anything less than one hundred percent comfortable around him. So why Taehyung? Bright, free-spirited, kind Taehyung. His roommate. His best friend.
He’s disgusted with himself. How can he not be wholly accepting of a fundamental part of who Taehyung is?
Jimin grits his teeth. He’s going to be better, he decides. He’s going to get over this. Taehyung is too important to him. He can’t let this get in the way of their friendship.
Weeks pass. Jimin is doing great. Leading a good, non-homophobic life.
(He duly ignores that this directly coincides with the fact that Taehyung hasn’t been staying over at anyone’s place or bringing anyone home.)
It’s cloudy on the rooftop tonight, their usual bottle of wine swapped out for hot cocoa, fuzzy blankets draped over their shoulders.
Jimin drops another marshmallow into his cup, watches it melt slowly.
Next to him, Taehyung strums lightly at his guitar. He’d gotten another ear piercing recently, and the stud sparkles dimly in the fairy lights they’ve strung up.
“Any requests?” he asks.
Jimin doesn’t know why Taehyung even bothers asking. He’d only started guitar lessons a month ago, and he can play a grand total of two songs by heart: Wonderwall and Don’t Stop Believin’.
“Anything except Wonderwall. I’m begging you.”
“What’s that? Wonderwall?”
“Tae, no, I swear to god--”
It’s too late. Taehyung has launched into the opening chords of the song, eyes squinted shut and head bobbing in exaggerated soulfulness. He’s even learned all the English lyrics.
Jimin shakes his head, exasperated but fond.
When Taehyung finishes, he stands up and bows. Jimin claps reluctantly. Someone in one of the apartments below them boos.
“Wow,” Taehyung says, sitting back down. “That was uncalled for.”
“I’m moving out if you play that song one more time.”
Taehyung hugs his guitar to his chest protectively, mock-offended. “It’s a classic.”
“Anyway,” Jimin says, dragging out the word, ignoring Taehyung’s pout. “Are we still on for Saturday?”
They’d made plans to go to the movies together, taking advantage of the first free Saturday they’ve had in a while--Taehyung has a project deadline rapidly approaching, and Jimin's been slaving away at his dissertation.
“Shit, I forgot to tell you.” Taehyung bites his lip guiltily. “I’m really sorry, Jiminie, I won’t be able to make it.”
“Oh. That’s okay. Did something come up?”
“Yeah, I actually, um. Have a date.” Taehyung looks shy as he says it, plucking absently at a guitar string.
The twist in Jimin’s stomach is sudden and sharp. A surge of annoyance flashes through him, and he looks away, fiddling with his cup. “Nice. Have fun, Tae.”
Clearly picking up on Jimin’s mood, Taehyung touches his arm lightly. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner. Rain check?”
Jimin molds his mouth into the best approximation of a smile that he can muster. “Yeah. No worries. Rain check.”
The warmth of Taehyung’s hand on his skin burns into him, and he stands up abruptly, pretending to stretch and yawn. “I’m beat. I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Okay. I think I’ll stay here a little longer.”
“You sure?”
Taehyung smiles up at him, a bit tightly. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t stay up too late.”
“Alright. Goodnight, Jimin.”
“Night, Tae.”
Jimin puts his cup in the sink, changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth. By the time he slips into bed, the knot in his stomach has loosened only slightly, and he’s buzzing with an irritation he can't seem to shake off.
Taehyung’s voice echoes in his head. I have a date.
Jimin wonders if that date will turn into Taehyung having a boyfriend. Someone who’ll go to the movies with him, sit on the rooftop with him, cook for him, brush his hair back when he cries. The thought runs circles in Jimin’s mind, the weight in his stomach growing heavier and heavier, along with a gnawing guilt. He knows he’d been too curt with Taehyung. So much for not letting himself get in the way of their friendship.
He pulls the blankets tighter around himself. He’s just upset because Taehyung had cancelled so last minute, he tries to convince himself. After all, Taehyung is free to date whoever he wants, whenever he wants. It’s not Jimin's place to pass any judgment. He’s better than that, remember?
He shuts his eyes and counts his breaths, one, two, seventy-eight, until he falls into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Jimin makes enough breakfast for two. He feels bad about last night, and he figures he owes at least this much to Taehyung.
When Taehyung comes shuffling out of his room and plops into a chair at the kitchen table, hair mussed and eyelids still heavy, Jimin sets a steaming bowl of soybean soup and rice in front of him. Taehyung instantly brightens.
“You’re an angel, Park Jimin.” He takes a big bite and makes a satisfied noise.
“Keep this up,” he says, cheeks bulging, “and I might just have to marry you.”
Jimin tilts his head thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. We could get some great tax benefits.”
“Is this a proposal?”
“Are you saying yes?”
“With a face as pretty as yours? Anyone would say yes.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, but he hides his pleased smile in his mug of coffee. The mug has a giant photo of Taehyung's face plastered on it, a gag gift from Taehyung last Christmas, but Jimin secretly loves it.
“By the way,” Taehyung says, dumping a giant spoonful of sugar into his own coffee, “I’m free on Sunday now, if you still want to go to the movies.”
Jimin looks at him, surprised. “I thought that was your project deadline?”
Taehyung shrugs. “I finished the project early.”
It’s then that Jimin notices the dark circles, the bloodshot whites of Taehyung’s eyes. “Kim Taehyung. Tell me you didn’t stay up all night finishing it.”
“I didn’t stay up all night finishing it.”
“Try again, without lying this time.”
“I’m not lying. I got three hours of sleep,” Taehyung says triumphantly, holding up two fingers.
“Tae.” Jimin frowns. “I already told you it was okay that you can’t make it on Saturday. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to. I shouldn’t have canceled on you like that.”
Taehyung looks so genuinely apologetic, and the guilt from last night returns full force. Jimin shakes his head, berating himself. “No, I shouldn’t have been so upset. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“So we’re good, then?”
“Yeah, Jimin. We’re good. Now pick what you want to watch on Sunday, it’s your turn. But remember, it needs to have--”
“An 80% or higher on Rotten Tomatoes, yeah, yeah, I remember.”
Taehyung grins, Jimin grins back, and things are okay again.
Things are not okay.
Jimin gets home on Saturday night just in time to see Taehyung and his date kissing in front of their apartment. His date is tall, broad shoulders and long legs and defined arms, and he’s got a hand against the door and a hand around Taehyung’s waist.
That same feeling from the night on the rooftop crashes into Jimin, but it’s amplified this time, rising in his throat like bile.
“Oh,” Taehyung says, noticing Jimin and pulling away from his date. His cheeks are faintly flushed. Jimin’s annoyance sharpens. “Hi, Jimin.”
“Hi.”
“This is Jihan. Jihan, this is my roommate, Jimin.”
Jihan bows his head. He’s handsome, with a strong nose and sharp jaw. Jimin dislikes him instantly. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”
Jimin nods back, forces a polite smile. “You too. I’ll just--” He gestures at the door.
"Oh! Sorry," Jihan apologizes, moving aside, Taehyung following.
Jimin gives him another tight-lipped smile, unlocks the door and lets himself in, leaving it open behind him for Taehyung.
He can hear Jihan say, “Goodnight, Taehyung,” and then the distinct sound of another kiss. Jimin stares at the ground, jaw clenched.
Before long, Taehyung comes into the apartment and flops onto the couch next to Jimin. He smells like rich, woodsy cologne--not his own.
“So, Jihan, huh?” Jimin tries to sound casual, like he doesn’t hate the guy for no reason at all. “He looks kind of old.”
Taehyung blinks at him and frowns. “He’s only four years older.”
What’s he like? Does he know your favorite book? Your favorite painting? Does he know that you can’t sleep without your body pillow? That you can’t drink coffee unless it has at least five packets of sugar in it? Jimin doesn’t ask any of this. He asks, instead, “How was the date?”
The second the question is out of his mouth, he regrets it. He’d rather eat his own foot than hear about their date.
“It was good. He took me to a super fancy restaurant, but honestly, I wish he’d gone with something more casual. The portions were all tiny and I felt awkward not knowing which hand to hold my knife in and all that.”
At this, a vicious surge of smug satisfaction washes over Jimin. If he were to take Taehyung out to dinner, he would know where to go. Taehyung would prefer a burger joint over a fancy restaurant any day. Jihan clearly doesn’t know Taehyung at all, not like Jimin does.
Jimin realizes, belatedly, that he’s been quiet for too long. Scrambling for something to say, he settles on, “That’s good. He seemed, um. Nice.”
“He is. Really nice, actually.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you like him?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
Jimin flushes, abruptly self-aware. “Sorry. I just…” He trails off lamely. He doesn’t know what he wanted to say.
“To answer your question,” Taehyung says, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I had a good time with him. That’s all. Are you done being weird now?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired,” Jimin lies.
Taehyung doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t say anything more, just pats Jimin’s thigh. “Get some sleep. I got our movie tickets for tomorrow morning, and I’ll kill you if we’re late.”
Taehyung does, in fact, see Jihan again.
He asks Jimin to help him pick out a shirt, a classy one, because apparently Jihan likes classy places. Jimin bites back five different snippy comments about Jihan, for which, frankly, he deserves a medal.
Taehyung leaves, and Jimin wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry.
He’s tired of feeling like this.
He hasn’t told anyone about what’s been going on, not wanting to out himself as a secret bigot, but he doesn’t want to deal with this alone anymore. If there’s one person he can trust, he decides, it’s Hoseok.
Hyung, can I come over?
Hoseok replies almost immediately.
Hoseokie hyung
Of course! :3
The moment Hoseok opens the door, Jimin faceplants into his chest.
“Ughhhhh,” he groans, muffled. “Hyung, I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re one of the best people I know, actually,” Hoseok says, gently maneuvering him towards the couch and sitting him down. “Alright. What’s wrong?”
“I’m a homophobe,” Jimin says miserably, ashamed.
Dead silence. “Sorry, what?”
“Taehyung’s on a date right now, and I feel awful. I get annoyed when he’s with other guys, too. I know it’s shitty and wrong. I just don’t get why I can’t be okay with it. With him.”
Hoseok hums noncommittally. “And you think it’s homophobia.”
“That’s the only feasible answer I can think of.” Jimin slumps against the cushions.
“Do you feel the same way about me? Or Namjoon hyung and Jungkookie?” Hoseok asks, expression unreadable.
“Of course not,” Jimin says, emphatic. “That’s why this doesn’t make sense.”
“So it’s only with Taehyung.”
“Yes.”
Hoseok looks like he’s barely suppressing laughter. “Jimin, you’re not homophobic. Think about it.” He starts listing off things with his fingers. “You get upset when you see him with other guys. You constantly want his time and attention. You only feel this way when it involves him.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Jimin says dryly.
Hoseok ignores him. “My point is, to me, that seems a lot like you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” Jimin frowns. The word does seem to fit the feeling, when he thinks about it, but…jealous of what? Of not getting Taehyung all to himself? He does admit he’s a bit clingy, but they have a healthy relationship. He’s not possessive over Taehyung or anything. Is he jealous that Taehyung is faring better in the romantic department than he is, then? That’s not it, either--he receives his fair share of attention from girls, but he hasn’t been interested in any of them lately.
He looks at Hoseok beseechingly. “I don’t understand.”
Hoseok sighs. “I was hoping you’d reach this conclusion yourself. But, as an experienced and distinguished bi, I’ll spell it out for you: you’re jealous because you don’t want him with anyone else, you want him with you.”
“I want him with me,” Jimin repeats, slowly. Tasting the words. “Of course I do. He’s my best friend.”
“Jimin, I mean ‘with you’ as in ‘with you.’”
“As in…”
“Romantically. Non-platonically. More than bros. Yes homo.”
“That’s--that’s not possible,” Jimin says, but his voice is uncertain. “I mean, if I were attracted to guys, wouldn’t I have known sooner?”
“Sexuality can be weird like that. It’s fluid. Someone could know who they are when they’re twelve. Someone else could spend thirty years of their life thinking they’re straight, and then wake up and realize they’re not. And that doesn’t make their identity any less valid.” Hoseok shifts a bit, bringing his legs up on the couch and crossing them. “I get what you’re going through, Jimin. I didn’t figure out I was bi until I got the worst crush on this senior in my high school psychology class.”
“How did you know? That you liked him, I mean?”
“I would always be a nervous mess around him, and then he asked me for a pen once and I nearly passed out.” Hoseok grimaces at the memory. “Think of it this way: when you see Tae being romantic with guys, or know he’s on dates, don’t you wish that were you with him instead?”
Jimin thinks about it. Thinks about how he couldn’t stand Jihan, and how he never wanted to be around the guys Taehyung slept with. And then he thinks about taking Taehyung on dates, holding his hand. Kissing him. Jimin’s eyes widen. All at once, the pieces fall into place. “Holy shit. I do want him with me.”
He grabs Hoseok’s shoulders. “Hoseok. I want him with me. I’m not homophobic. I have a crush.” He pauses, the second revelation of the night dawning upon him. “And I’m not straight.”
“Welcome to the club,” Hoseok says, grinning.
Jimin sinks back into the cushions. His heart and mind are going at a hundred miles per hour. He likes Taehyung. He wants to date Taehyung.
Hoseok places a comforting hand on the back of his neck. “You good?”
Jimin nods. “It’s just...a lot to take in.”
Hoseok laughs and pinches Jimin’s cheek. “Aw, look at you. A baby gay just learning to fly.”
“Am I? Gay, I mean,” Jimin wonders aloud.
“You don’t have to put a label on it right now, or ever, if you don’t want to,” Hoseok reassures him. “You’re new to this. Take your time, explore your feelings. You’ll figure things out. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, either. This is yours to share, when you’re ready.”
Jimin leans his head against Hoseok’s shoulder, immensely grateful that he’d come over. “Thanks, hyung. Seriously.”
Hoseok smacks a kiss on the side of his head. “Anytime, Jimin.”
For what it’s worth, Jimin comes to terms with his feelings relatively quickly. He wants to date Taehyung. He’s okay with that.
It’s everything else that’s hard.
The way he sees Taehyung is different. The way he sees himself is different. After some thought and research, he’s settled on calling himself queer, at least for now. He tries saying it aloud to himself once--”I’m queer.” He can barely get the words out.
Most troubling of all, he doesn’t know if Taehyung likes him back.
On the bright side, Taehyung has broken things off with Jihan. On the not-so-bright side, things get weird.
Whenever they hang out, Jimin is hyperaware of the amount of space between them, of every time Taehyung’s leg brushes his. They’ve always been tactile with each other, never sparing physical affection, but when Taehyung touches him now, Jimin finds himself leaning away from him, his heart going into overdrive. Those touches mean something, and Jimin’s terrified he’ll do something stupid. After all, it’d be so easy to lean over and just kiss Taehyung.
One night, while they’re marathoning Studio Ghibli movies, they reach into their bag of chips at the same time. Their hands brush, and Jimin yanks his hand back so fast that the bag goes flying, spilling chips and cheese dust everywhere.
“Jimin, what the hell?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin gasps out, instantly crouching down to clean up, praying that Taehyung can’t see how red his face has gone.
When he stands up, dusting cheese off of his fingertips, Taehyung is staring at him, eyes unreadable. A faint frown tugs at the corners of his lips.
“Jimin, are you mad at me or something?”
“What? Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“You’ve been all weird and twitchy around me. You blew off our last dinner night. You act like I’m contagious or something,” Taehyung lists off flatly.
Jimin winces. Of course Taehyung’s noticed his skittish behavior. He hasn’t exactly been subtle. “Tae, I’m sorry, I…” He can’t find the words.
“If I did something to upset you, just tell me.”
In the flickering light of the television, Jimin thinks Taehyung looks almost afraid.
He wants so badly to tell him. Spill everything, lay his heart out. When he opens his mouth, though, the only thing that falls out is, “It’s nothing, Tae. Seriously.”
Without warning, Taehyung reaches over and brushes his fingers over Jimin’s cheek. Jimin immediately flinches away from the touch, cheeks heating up.
Taehyung smiles at him sadly. “That’s not nothing, Jimin.”
“Tae, I can explain--”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to. I get it.” He stands up, slides his slippers back on. “I think I’m going to sleep. Goodnight, Jimin.”
He walks away, and Jimin’s stuck, familiar guilt blooming in him. He throws an arm over his face. This whole time, he’s been trying to preserve their relationship, but he keeps making the wrong moves.
The shower runs, and then stops. He can hear Taehyung brush his teeth, spit and rinse. Taehyung rarely goes straight to sleep, instead spending at least an hour playing around on his laptop, so after a few minutes of deliberation, Jimin steels himself and walks down the hallway to Taehyung's room.
The door is closed, the lights off. Jimin lifts his fist to knock, but drops it at the last second, exhaling softly. He knows how to take a hint.
Over the next week, Jimin barely sees Taehyung, much less talks to him--he has an exam coming up, and between keeping up with his TA duties, studying, and trying to work through his writing block for his dissertation, his free time is almost nonexistent. It doesn’t help that whenever he gets home, Taehyung's either not there or in his room, the door tightly shut. Their fight is constantly in the back of Jimin’s mind, stealing from the already precious few hours of sleep Jimin squeezes in amidst everything.
He can at least take comfort in knowing that Taehyung’s been staying over at Seokjin’s. Seokjin hadn’t sounded very happy with Jimin when he’d called to let him know, but it isn’t like Jimin can just tell Seokjin the truth.
On the day of his exam, as soon as he turns in his test sheet, Jimin bikes home. Taehyung had texted him earlier in the morning to wish him luck--the most he's heard out of him the entire week--and Jimin’s holding onto hope that Taehyung will be home, and that they can try to sort things out. Not that Jimin has any idea what he’d even say. He mostly just misses Taehyung.
“Tae?” he calls out tentatively, dropping his keys in the bowl next to the door. The sound seems to echo in the empty apartment. He checks in Taehyung’s room, in case he has headphones on and simply didn’t hear Jimin, but it’s empty, too.
Resigned, Jimin spends a long couple of moments typing, re-typing, and deleting a text to Taehyung before he gives up and takes his moping to Hoseok’s place.
When he opens the door, Hoseok takes one look at Jimin and clucks, pulling him into a hug.
“Hyung,” Jimin whines into Hoseok’s shoulder, feeling like a child. “Everything sucks.”
He lets Hoseok guide him into a chair, pour him some hot tea. He stares at the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup, wishing they could tell him his future. “Tae’s been avoiding me all week. I don’t know what to do. There’s no way I can explain myself without confessing, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I mean, I’ve only just started being able to say I’m queer to myself.”
“That’s totally understandable, Jimin. You only discovered this about yourself last week. It takes some adjusting.” Hoseok squeezes his knee encouragingly. “And confessing feelings is never easy. I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, though. Taehyung adores you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he likes me.”
“Jimin, that boy cares more about you than anyone. There’s absolutely nothing that can change that. I think you should tell him. You’re only making yourselves miserable right now.”
Jimin bites his lip. He knows Hoseok’s right. These types of things are easier said than done, though. “It hasn’t exactly been easy getting a hold of him.”
“Don’t worry. I convinced Seokjin to kick Tae’s scrawny ass out before you even got here.”
“Does Jin hyung know--”
“He knows enough to understand that you and Tae need to talk. I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone anything that isn’t mine to tell, remember?”
Jimin nods, grateful. “Thanks, hyung.” He slides down in his chair and groans. “What do I even say to Tae?”
“Do what you’ve always done with him,” Hoseok says simply. “Be honest.”
Jimin stays with Hoseok a while longer, until Hoseok calls him out on procrastinating going back and talking to Taehyung. Hoseok pushes him out the door gently, pats him on the ass, wishes him luck, and then Jimin’s on his own.
He takes a deep breath. He can do this.
When he gets home, he’s relieved to see light coming from the hallway. The door to Taehyung's bedroom is open, which he hopes is a good sign. He leans against the doorframe and taps lightly at it. Taehyung glances up from where he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, a dog-eared book in his hands.
Jimin clears his throat. His palms are clammy. "Hey. Can we talk?"
Taehyung sets his book down. He looks just as nervous as Jimin feels, and his tone is forcedly casual when he says, "Yeah, sure."
Jimin perches himself on the edge of Taehyung's bed, trying to gather his thoughts. He finally starts off, haltingly, "I’m really sorry about what happened the other night. I don’t blame you for avoiding me."
Taehyung tenses but doesn't say anything.
Jimin pauses, remembering Hoseok’s words. Be honest. "Tae, the truth is, I haven't been a hundred percent open with you, but I want to be." He swallows. It's now or never. "I talked to Hoseok a while ago, and he helped me figure out a lot of things. Like the fact that I was jealous."
"Jealous," Taehyung repeats. Confusion creases his brow.
"At first, I thought I had developed some kind of homophobia that revolved exclusively around you. But it turned out that I hated Jihan, and every other guy I saw you with, because I wanted them to be me. I wanted you. I still do. That’s why I’ve been acting like a total idiot around you."
The words hang there between them, floating. Waiting for Taehyung. Jimin's heart is somewhere in his throat.
Taehyung looks stricken. "But you're--"
"Straight?" Jimin quirks his lips wryly. "Not as straight as I thought. Queer is what I’m going with, for now."
A beat of silence, and then Taehyung does the last thing Jimin expects.
He laughs.
"What's so funny?" Jimin asks stiffly. He’d been bracing himself for rejection, for shock, for anything but Taehyung making fun of his confession.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, I just--" Taehyung scoots over, touches his forehead to Jimin's shoulder for a brief moment. "I'm so relieved. I thought you figured out that I liked you and were grossed out by it."
"You--" Jimin gapes at him, trying to process the sudden U-turn this conversation has taken. "You like me?"
“I've had a crush on you since we met in sophomore year. I told you I was scared of talking to you, and that was the reason why." Taehyung shakes his head, lips curled up at the corners. "And then you messaged me on Facebook about the apartment, and you moved in, and it felt like the universe was playing some cruel trick on me."
"What do you mean?"
"I’ve been there before. Falling for a straight guy. And it really sucks. I didn’t want to go through that again.”
"Why'd you agree to live with me, then?"
"I don't know. I guess because you're you."
"Tae," Jimin says, heat rising in his ears. "You can't just say things like that."
"Yes, I can." Taehyung beams. "Because you're you, and I’ve spent every day since you showed up on my doorstep falling even more for you.”
“First of all, you make me sound like an abandoned puppy. Second of all…” Jimin pauses, uncertain. “What about Jihan?”
“I was trying to get over you,” Taehyung says. “It didn’t work. Obviously.”
“Sorry for being such a dick about him,” Jimin says, sheepish. “And for everything else.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Taehyung opens his arms, and Jimin gladly settles into them, hooking his chin over Taehyung’s shoulder and closing his eyes at the familiar warmth and scent of him.
“I missed you,” he mumbles.
“I missed you, too.” Taehyung’s hands rub over his back soothingly. “Although, can we go back to the part where you thought you were homophobic?”
Jimin breaks the hug and glares at him. He’s covering his mouth in laughter. “It made sense at the time!”
“You are such a disaster gay.”
Jimin pouts, but it quickly melts away when Taehyung takes him into his arms again, pulling him down on the bed with him. This time, he doesn’t let go.
“So...what now?”
Taehyung hums, brushes his thumb lightly over Jimin’s jaw. “How about we take things slow? We can start with a date.”
Jimin leans into his touch. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He hesitates, nervous and a little embarrassed, before asking, “Can we try something?”
Taehyung smiles, soft. "I don't think I could refuse you anything right now."
“Can I kiss you?”
Taehyung’s cheeks color prettily. “Jimin, I’ve been dreaming of kissing you for centuries. Of course you can kiss me.”
Jimin takes a breath, leans forward. Their mouths press together.
And Jimin thinks, oh.
There’s something in the slightest scratch of stubble on Tae’s chin, where he must have missed during shaving, the feel of his big hands against Jimin’s face, that’s so unlike anything Jimin’s had before, and he revels in it, pressing closer. Wanting more. Taehyung makes a quiet noise in response, low and throaty, and Jimin finds himself so unexpectedly affected by it that he pulls away.
Taehyung’s eyes flutter open slowly. His lips are still parted, shiny and pink, and Jimin can’t resist kissing him again, softer this time.
“Is it everything you’ve dreamed of?” Jimin says teasingly when they break apart.
Taehyung smiles at him, the gentle, private kind of smile that Jimin loves. “It’s better.”
They go on their first date.
It's at one of their favorite restaurants, a casual sit-down place with bottomless soda refills and plush booths. They’ve been here dozens of times, and it’s familiar and completely new all at once.
They sit at their favorite booth. Order their favorite dishes. Jimin breaks apart Taehyung’s chopsticks for him, as usual, and Taehyung blows his straw wrapper at Jimin’s face, as usual. It’s like any other day, except Taehyung hooks his ankle around Jimin’s under the table. Except Jimin blushes so hard his face might as well melt when Taehyung tells him how good he looks tonight and kisses his hand.
Jimin knows there’s no reason to be nervous, but the oddity of doing something so routine under such new circumstances is jarring. He’s not sure how to act, or what to say, or what to do with his hands.
When conversation between them lulls, he finds himself endlessly fidgeting with things: his napkin, his straw, a frayed thread on his shirt.
Taehyung takes his hand.
“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s me.”
Jimin takes a breath. Nods. Lets the comforting warmth of Taehyung’s hand ground him.
It’s better after that.
They split dessert, feeding each other bites, Jimin laughing when he gets cream on Taehyung’s nose. They split the bill, and while they walk to Taehyung’s car, Taehyung laces their fingers together, and Jimin feels like he’s glowing.
When they get back to the apartment, Jimin, in a stroke of boldness, pushes Taehyung against the door and kisses him right there, in the same spot he’d first seen Jihan kissing him. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung.
“You are so petty,” he says when they break apart, but he’s laughing, and he kisses Jimin again.
Jimin’s had a lot of unexpected things happen to him in his life. Falling for Taehyung is one of them. But right now, as they kiss their way into the apartment, Taehyung’s hands soft against his face, he thinks that this was meant to be.