Chapter Text
Jimin decides he hates Wednesday mornings.
What a cursed, cruel day of the week. He has never felt so betrayed by a mere weekday before, but this- this was the last straw.
(After accidentally setting his apartment on fire by testing if water could fry or not, butt texting his ex a grand ol' "Fuv ck y" at 3 in the morning, and stepping on John F. Kennedy's paw while rushing to clean up his apartment before his mom arrived- and all on Wednesdays too- he should've know better than to ever trust a Wednesday again.)
But the sun was so warm on Jimin's face. Getting weird looks from 60 year old's across the street? Jimin didn't care. Having random dogs bark at him (John F. Kennedy, more specifcally) as they passed by? Let them be jealous. Passing by mothers who'd guide their children away from him, a perfectly sane young man, walking his cat around the park? Jimin stayed unbothered. JFK never looked better, blond fur trimmed, washed and complemented by the warm colored grass around her, eyes sparkling and ears soaring in the wind., and Jimin never felt better, basking in the smell of the tall, boisterously humble trees and the ice cream stands being set up three feet away from him.
He didn't have a care in the world. Nothing could ruin this perfect Wednesday morning.
"Fuck, Jimin, channel 501, he's on channel 501."
Jimin moved the phone away from his ears, wincing at his friend's screeching.
"Calm down fangirl. I'm changing the channel." He opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water instead.
"I know you didn't touch that remote Jimin. YOU LITERALLY JUST- JIMIN. I HEARD THAT REFRIGERATOR. GO TO CHANNEL 501."
Jimin sighed dramtically, reaching over John F. Kennedy on the dining table to grab the remote.
"Alright, alright, I've got the remote."
"Good. Channel 501!"
"Yeah, I know. Heard it the first twenty million times." He tapped lazily through the channels, only half listening to Taehyung's animated rambling through the phone.
"...After a year and a half break too, and I want to like, kick him in the fucking shins. You know?"
Jimin did not know, but he nodded anyways as if Taehyung could see him through the phone.
"...But at the same time I'm so fucking excited for the new chroeography, and the new music and fuck Jimin I missed his face so much I could literally fucking puke. Have you seen that man's body? Lord when I say I'd let him-"
So yeah, that was Jimin's cue to,
"ANYWAYS," he interjected loudly. "I'm on the channel now, what next?"
"You seeing the awkward lady in the hideous denim brown skirt too?"
"Yeah."
Pause.
"I mean- dude, the skirt isn't that bad."
"Who wears brown denim skirts in the spring? Or at all, for that matter. Unless you're Rihanna cause what can't Rihanna pull off. You're asking to get clowned for it."
"Rihanna would never wear a brown denim skirt anyways." Jimin took a swig from the water bottle.
"You make a good point."
A picture of Jeongguk flashed on screen, labeled "Busan's favorite Idol singer, Jeon Jungkook, will be making his live comeback in five minutes. Stay tuned, channel 501."
His hair was bright pink. Or was it red? Jimin couldn't tell. His eyes were really round and wide, like a deer caught in headlights.
He was kinda cute.
"He's literally not even all that cute, Tae." Jimin capped his water bottle, looking away from the TV. "Will I ever understand why you nose bleed so much over him?" John F. Kennedy shifted in agreement, and in shared disapproval Jimin reached behind him to give her a rub between the ears.
Taehyung tsked loudly from the other side of the phone. "Shut up, you big ugly anti. He- wait shit fuck shit he's on now."
Jimin exhaled loudly, settling his elbows on the counter in wait for the red haired wonder to appear live on his screen. He should be in the park right now, while there weren't many bugs around yet. The things I do for this boy.
"So..." Jimin spoke up after a short silence. "Where is he then?"
"He uh..." Taehyung trailed off, sounding just as lost as Jimin. "I mean... he was on the screen?"
"That was just a picture, Tae."
"What the fuck," Jimin heard Taehyung muttering under his breath.
"His face just looked really pale, too," Jimin added, uncapping his bottle once more to take a swift sip. "Not cute at all. You sure his company's been treating him well?"
"Shut up, they're talking about him," Tae screeched over him again. Jimin turned up the TV's volume, only slightly interested now.
"...So it seems as if there will be a delay in Jeon Jungkook's 'Begin' comeback," the spokes-lady was saying. "He is reported to be, uh... undergoing some technical difficulties backstage. We will return with further news on the matter, but in the time being, an ad break will proceed. See you in-"
"THERE WILL BE A WHAT NOW?" Taehyung burst out. For perhaps the thousandth time this morning. The audio crackled angrily through Jimin's phone speakers, and he tried not to wince too hard again. He swore his face would permantantly get stuck in that position if he didn't hold back everytime.
"'Technical difficulties...?" Jimin raised his eye brows, muting the TV and pushing himself off his counter. "Yeah, doesn't sound sus at all. Not at all."
"How can a person experience technical difficulties?" Tae almost sobbed through the phone. "What type of sense does that make?"
"I cant even tell if you're more upset about not seeing his body after a whole year or if you're actually genuinely concerned for him."
"A year and a half, Jimin," Tae sniffed through the phone.
Eye roll. Jimin corrected himself, "Pardon, a year and a half."
"Thank you. And fuck you, Park, I am concerned for him. Very oncerned. I'm not heartless."
"I mean, I'd hope-"
"-Like, what type of technical difficulties could his body be going through that they had to postpone his entire comeback?" Taehyung cut him off with another loud, snot filled sob. "His thighs are too majestic to go down like this, my TV screen deserved their return."
Jimin stared down at his phone screen wordlessly. Tae's sniffling was getting more obnoxious by the second.
Shaking his head, he heaved JFK off the dining table, attaching her special leash to her necklace. "Ready to go for another walk?" he cooed lovingly, tapping her nose.
"And I- What? Ready to go where?"
"Oh, sorry." Jimin reached for his keys. "I was talking to John F. Kennedy again."
"I cant believe you actually fucking named your cat that," Taehyung said after a long pause. It sounded like he was whiping his nose. Gross. Jimin hoped he was actually using a tissue this time. "And dude, you seriously need a roommate."
Jimin huffed defiantly. He pushed his front door open with his foot, letting JFK walk outside first.
"Rude. John F. Kennedy loves her name, thank you very much."
"Uh huh."
"...And fuck you, Kim. She's the only roommate I need."
Even after that small interruption to his morning, Jimin's Wednesday was going great.
Key word, was.
The first thing he saw was a shock of pink hair.
Or was it red? Jimin couldn't tell.
It was occupying his Resting Bench. Everybody in that park knew Jimin sat on that bench for seven minutes every morning at 9:20 a.m. Even the president knew. Jesus probably did, too. He was already running late, had his morning pointlessly interupted by that hot shot who didn't know how to schedule his comebacks correctly, and now someone else was taking his spot?
Unnecceptable.
He was annoyed by it, and he voiced this to JFK. "Or maybe it's cotton candy. Did someone spill their fucking cotton candy yesterday? Who's in charge of cleaning this place, anyways. What level of blind do you have to be to miss a mess like th-"
It certainly wasn't cotton candy. His first guess was right. More right than he was pleased with it being.
Stunned, Jimin stood stock still, as if one mere exhale would cause the entire heap of black topped with a pink fuff ball to crumble and float away in the wind.
"JFK," Jimin whispered hoarsly. "Are you seeing this too? Do you think... that that's... a human? Like, a live one?"
JFK batted at something in the grass in response.
"Okay, yeah, I think it might be alive too," Jimin nodded firmly.
He hesitated.
"JFK, what do you when you find random might-be-a-human's lying around in parks?"
JFK yawned, resting her head in her paws.
"Sounds like a plan to me, then."
One step. Two steps. And another. And a few more, until Jimin was standing directly over the heap of clothing. Black leather to be specific. A lot of it.
He could now make out outlines of body parts (like legs, and ... an arm he thinks? If only he could physically identify a heartbeat the same way — man would it have saved him from the reckless feat he would have to pull next.)
He poked the heap in, where he assumed, was the head. He got no reaction, so he did it again. This time, the leather heap shifted a bit. The hoodie covering the heap's face fell and Jimin could swear he literally felt his entire set of lungs sink to his ass.
Cause not only was the heap very, very much alive, but it was also very, very much someone he never would've dreamt of meeting. And like this? Not at all. Not even in his worst nightmares.
"What the everlasting fuck," he wheezed, almost tripping over JFK as he stumbled back. JFK hissed at him for it and Jimin quickly apologized.
"Fucking Jeon Jungkook? What the fuck is he doing passed out on a park bench — in public for that matter, while Taehyung and half of South Korea is probably still currently brooding over ice cream and a life sized cut out of him?"
Jimin's shock wore off quick. He was more upset than anything else now. Poor Taehyung. This lazy, inconsiderate bum doesn't deserve an ounce of his tears.
"So, John F. Kennedy," Jimin began. "What shall we do with him?" The sun was beating down more steadily on his neck so he could tell the park was about to start filling up soon.
Jimin heard a branch snap behind him, and subconsciously he jolted forward, flinging himself down on the bench next to Jungkook's unmasked face. He hunched over him, pausing for a second to quickly mull over what the fuck he just did and why the fuck he just did it, before slowly twisting his head around to face the young kid who stood behind him, holding a rapidly melting ice cream cone in his hand. The kid's eyes shifted from Jimin to the now obviously human figure benethe him, and back to Jimin again.
Please go away please go away please just go away.
"Are you having sex?"
Jimin's mouth opened and closed. Huh?
The kid continued, "Cause my daddies do that in their room, sometimes. They look just like that. He wouldn't tell me what they were doing but I'm very smart, so I figured it out," The kid procalimed proudly. "I didn't know you could sex in parks too!"
Jimin was turning the same shade of red as Jungkook's hair beneath him. This was it. This topped it all. He has never, ever in his life wanted to die more. He was also more than glad that Sir Hot Shot underneathe him (aw fuck) was entirely in another dimensional plane at the moment, or else he might've just evaporated on sight.
"No, no," He chuckled nervously, slowly inching away from the position he was in on top of Jungkook. "We are not having sex, not at all. He's actually alseep right now. Very very tired. He was very tired and no you should not have sex in parks. Okay?"
The kid pursed his lips, before nodding enthusiastically. A glob of ice cream dripped onto his hand. "Okay!"
Jimin only let himself exhale when the kid had ran far, far away from them. He looked down at JFK who lay unbothered and resting with her back to him a few feet away.
"Fuck it," he muttered to himself. "Let's get you out of here."
Carefully, he heaved Jungkook (christ, he was really fucking heavy for such a lean kid) onto his side. He slung Jungkook's arm over his shoulder, and proceeded to take a test step.
He tripped and fell, landing on his knees while Jungkook landed on his face.
"Fuck."
This was unfair. Jimin didn't owe Jungkook anything, why's he doing this?
He asked himself the same question. "Why the fuck are you doing this again?"
Maybe it was how strangely small and troubled Jungkook's face looked, especially with a generous amount of dirt caked on it. Jimin's heart tugged a bit, and he groaned loudly. Screw his big, weak heart.
Second attempt. Hoodie on. Arm over shoulder, one step after the other.
Ignoring the doubled amount of questioning stares aimed his way, Jimin hobbled his way back to his apartment, Jungkook and JFK in tow.
Huh. Wait. Did that kid say his "daddies?"
Daddies, as in plural, two dads?
Jimin paused for a second, pursing his lips in thought, before shrugging and continuing on.