Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jimin disappeared.

Poof. Gone like magic.

___

“I will literally hold my breath until I pass out if you don’t get off your big handsome butt and change your clothes, preferably into something tight. And with a low collar.” Taehyung narrows his eyes, sucking his teeth and looking entirely unsatisfied with Jimin’s current get-up. “The jeans can stay.”

“Tae, don’t be annoying.” Jungkook says, mouth full of cereal. Milk dribbles down his chin and drips off, landing with a tiny splat on the kitchen table. He wipes it away with his arm then takes another bite, Taehyung scoffs, mildly disgusted.

Jimin blinks at Taehyung slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “And my ass is not big .” Taehyung makes a face at him.

Hoseok laughs, shrugs. He and Taehyung share a stupid grin from across the room. “It is kinda big.”

Jimin screeches and yanks off one of his slippers, lobbing it at Hoseok’s head with the force of a thousand suns. Hoseok squeaks and throws himself half behind Seokjin, the older boy simply side steps and allows it to dome Hoseok in his left ear, Seokjin tuts with a bemused grin on his face. Jimin is only moderately satisfied that Hoseok is still whining, moaning with such desperation that you’d think someone literally ripped his dick off.

“You are handsome, though.” Jungkook supplies quietly, pointedly choosing to ignore Hoseok and Taehyung again. Jimin shoots the younger boy what he hopes is some type of smile, though he isn’t sure that his face moved in the slightest.

“You know you at least kind of deserved that, right Hobi?” Yoongi deadpans from a distance, shaking his head as he emerges from the a bathroom, points a finger at him-- He’s still shaking his head and honestly Jimin doesn’t know if it’s at him, Taehyung and Hoseok or Jungkook. “Also there’s nothing wrong with a big ass.” There’s a toothbrush lazing haphazardly between Yoongi’s lips. Foam pools at the corners. If Yoongi wasn’t so horrifying and mean Jimin might actually think he looked cute for a second, cute and cuddly and not at all terrifying. After the older boy spits into the sink and slurps water directly from the faucet like a dehydrated meerkat Jimin takes that thought back, he takes it back and crumples it in a ball and throws it in his mental trash can. Yoongi is terrifying and gross and only .0002% adorable. On a good day.

Seokjin mumbles a scold before stomping to the sink, he rinses out the remnants of toothpaste as he stares Yoongi down with The Look. “We have a bathroom sink for that, you know.” Yoongi shrugs at him, grinning. “Disgusting brat.”  

Jimin sinks further into the couch, glowering at everyone in the room because he sort of hates that he loves all of his members despite all of this stupid shit. Seokjin is still watching Yoongi with pursed lips while Hoseok rubs his swollen ear petulantly, “I don’t know why I’m the one getting things thrown at me when Jimin is the one who doesn’t want to go to his own hyung’s birthday party. Now that is a disgusting brat if you ask me.”

“You know Jimin has two slippers right?” Jungkook reminds him, pointing his spoon at Hoseok, “do you really wanna lose the other ear too?”

Jimin catches Jungkook’s eye, the other boy offers a small smile and a shrug. Jimin tries to smile back but he’s sure that it probably looks more painful than anything else.

(“His aim is impeccable…” Taehyung ponders in the background.

“Jungkook groans loudly at the ceiling, “Shut up , Kim Taehyung.”)

Jimin takes a deep breath and leans back against the couch cushions, he covers his face with his hands.

This morning when he woke up something was just wrong, his stomach twisted uncomfortably and his lungs struggled to fill with air, like an invisible fist was wrapped around them, squeezing and squeezing . It’s these days that he wakes up and sort of wishes that he hadn’t, that’s when things happen, the days that he doesn’t even want to get out of bed-- that’s when the Bad Somethings always happen, sometimes even just Weird Somethings. The time before this he was in bed with a stomach ache for nearly an entire day, only to shuffle from his room to find an abundance of fucking hamsters flooding the dorm; they were in the couches, his fucking packets of honey butter chips, Namjoon’s pants ; everywhere, little rodents, everywhere . Nobody ever took the blame(everyone knows it was Taehyung, who, even after 46 hamsters were gathered, managed to hide three in his room for two whole weeks). The time before that was a day he woke up and felt like his face was too puffy, too pale and too cheeky. He could barely look at himself in the mirror, that’s when they told him they wanted to lighten his bright red hair to an obnoxious orange. A horrible, nauseating carrot color that could only be created through an irritatingly painful bleaching experience that made Jimin honestly want to hold his breath until he died.

Those time were just… different, unpleasant. But there was a time when he woke up crying in the middle of the night from a dream he couldn’t remember, moments before a phone call that told him his grandmother had passed. Or the time Jimin’s chest felt heavy, so heavy and hot he couldn’t breathe, it drove him out of his room in the middle of the night and into the kitchen for a glass of water-- that was the time that he found Seokjin choking on a mouthful of shrimp crackers, probably about three seconds away from literally dying, and yeah this feeling means something.

This feeling definitely means something. Bad something’s. Unfortunate and irritating events seem to fester in Jimin’s life on his off days and honestly what could go that wrong from the comfort of his own bed? Few things. The amount that could go wrong in the middle of a club? Exponential.

“Rude,” He finally says to Hoseok, picking at his jeans. They’re supposed to be fashionable with strategic holes cut on the knee but it just sort of irritates him, he rips the loose strings off one by one, drops them into a pile on Seokjin’s knee. “I just… I don’t feel up to it right now.”

He wants to tell them that he knows that Bad Something’s and Weird Something’s always happen when he feels like this.

Several looks get shot his way, Seokjin sighs. He leans slightly more so against Jimin, the lecture in the air is imminent and weighted, heavier on Jimin’s chest. “Jimin…”

“You’re being weird and boring and I’d like to know what happened to the real Jimin.” Taehyung says, sounding slightly bored. He has the front facing camera open on his phone while he sits next to Yoongi at the table, he fluffs his newly dyed hair(it’s a light golden color, just like his skin, and Taehyung is sort of obsessed with it. So obsessed with it, in fact, that after his three hour conditioning treatment his obsession with making people pet it forced the entire group to annex themselves).

A second later Yoongi grabs a handful and yanks, Taehyung gasps.  It’s a Yoongi way of saying be nice that makes Taehyung jut his thick bottom lip out in a pout.

“ Not what I was going to say but thank you Taehyung for your disrespectful comment.” Seokjin continues slowly, faces Jimin slightly, their knees bump together. “Jimin, don’t you think you’re being a little--”

“--crazy?” Hoseok offers. Jimin yanks off his other slipper, the other boy dives behind the couch with a squeal.

At the table Taehyung says, “Tell me something only the real Jimin would know.” He gets ignored, Yoongi groans into his arms, forehead pressed against the table in exasperation.

“The dream you had,” Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jimin, a look that says you wouldn’t dare ,  “The Yoongi hyung thing where you're in the showe-” Yoongi wails, whacking Jungkook when the younger boy lets out a sharp laugh, Jimin smirks.

“ Okay that’s, yeah that’s-- we don't need to get into the specifics do we? Silly little details…” Taehyung clicks his tongue and continues on, mumbling about how the real Jimin wouldn’t betray him that way as his cheeks flip a deep shade a pink. Which is only partially true, normally Jimin would only lightheartedly tease Taehyung, rather than expose him in front of all of their members. But isn’t that the problem? That normally Jimin wouldn’t do this, but he is? Isn’t that sign enough that something is wrong?

Seokjin is watching all of them and makes a face, eyes glazed over. “ Unreasonable .” He slowly pries the slipper free from Jimin’s hand, tucking it safely away out of reach while shaking his head. “I was going to say unreasonable.”

Jimin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clasps his hands together in his lap. “Do you guys remember last year when we went to America to perform at the AMA’s?” The others nod. “Do you also remember our first plane? The one that we missed?” Five more nods. “The one that crashed landed on the runway and like that one guy lost his, like, whole ass leg?”

(“Are we really not going to talk about Taehyungie’s wet dream about Yoongi hyung?” Hoseok’s eyes are wide, only them and his fluff of dark hair visible over the couch. He has to duck when Taehyung lobs Jungkook’s cereal spoon in his general direction. Jimin shoots him a look, somewhere he hears Yoongi and Taehyung both sigh.)

Jimin takes a deep breath, glaring at nobody in particular because nobody ever takes him seriously, he doesn’t have enough eyes to glare at them all at the same time…

Yoongi crosses his arms. He’s still sitting at the dining room table and, despite having also just quietly asked Taehyung for details of one certain dream, there’s a semi-bored look on his face. “What about it?” He’s trying to placate Jimin, it’s obvious but Jimin kind of appreciates it regardless; Yoongi was good at that, at caring for them without really showing that he cares.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow, “Do you remember why we missed it?”

Jungkook and Taehyung gasp, “Be...cause…” They finish together with, “you couldn’t find your passport !”

“Right, couldn’t find it .” Jimin repeats. He’s raising his eyebrows and really, really hopes that they pick up on what he’s trying to say, that suddenly it’ll all click and make sense to them.

“Purely coincidental.” Seokjin is so reasonable and logical it’s actually super irritating; maybe Jimin wants to drop kick him and his wide shoulders to Australia, maybe.

“Holy shit you’re an indigo child.” Hoseok’s eyes are wide as he emerges from his sanctuary behind the couch, Jimin sighs-- he isn’t an indigo child, but he’s sort of happy that he’s at least caught their attention. Jungkook is finished with his cereal-- lack of spoon reasons-- and crawls on the ottoman, his eyes are big enough to stop traffic and his bunny teeth are making a full appearance; he’s pretty adorable, Jimin would probably tell him how cute his doe eyes were if he weren’t so irritated right now.

“Do you have visions? Like in That’s So Rav--” He’s cut off by Taehyung flying into his lap, screaming something like what color underwear am I wearing??????

(“Yellow.”

“Oh my fucking god .” )

“Jimin don’t get them excited,” Yoongi scolds, his eyes glint and there’s a tiny quirk of the lip that shadows a smile. “You’re gonna get their hopes up.”

Jimin looks down, twiddling his thumbs. “I’m serious. ” to which Taehyung replies something along the lines of Jiminie, you knew what color underwear I was wearing you’re a real life psychic  to which Yoongi says something like because you walk around the dorm half naked all the time to which Taehyung says I do not  to which Jungkook finally says shut the fuck up .

Seokjin takes a deep, long breath, pinches the bridge of his nose, he’s probably trying to pray away the aneurysm he feels coming along. “Hypothetically speaking, if you could -” he waves his hand around, “I don’t know. Sense these things, hypothetically of course, what could possibly go so wrong?”

“Hypothetically.” Hoseok unhelpfully supplies.

Frustrated, Jimin drops his face into his hands. He doesn’t know , he doesn’t have fucking visions or dreams or premonitions whatever else. He has feelings , he has fucking goosebumps on his arms that haven’t gone away in hours and his heart feels like it’s going to pounce out of his chest and he wants to hold his breath until he dies. There is nothing specific that he can think of, no plane crashes or dogs running away, just anxiety and the desperate need to stay home. To keep them all home. But nobody will listen, nobody will believe him. Especially not on Namjoon’s birthday of all days.

“I-I don’t.. I don’t know Seokjin.” he finally answers. How do you explain depression to a bunch of literal rays of neurotypical sunshines?

“Then please Jiminnie, please just change your clothes and lets go meet Namjoon for lunch.  For the love of all that is holy don’t make me tell him that you’re not coming he’ll literally turn into a pile of dust and drift off into the wind.” Seokjin rises from the couch, his face is soft and he pets Jimin’s hair, twisting the light brown strands in his fingers. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

On his way out he gives Jimin a soft smile, Taehyung and Yoongi follow out behind. They’re bantering about what to eat for lunch. Yoongi wants lamb skewers, Taehyung thinks that Yoongi has the taste buds of a dead cat and if he loves lamb skewers so much he should have asked Jungkook where to go, Yoongi thinks that he should shut the fuck up and go marry Gordon Ramsey if his palate is so developed. Hoseok is talking about how nice Jimin’s ass looks in those jeans, Taehyung and Yoongi promptly tell him to also shut the fuck up though neither disagree.

As the door shuts behind them Jimin can’t help but wonder just how in the everlasting fuck anyone managed to swing a night out at a club , in public. They’re in the pinnacle of their career, top of the charts, international performances every other day and they’re about to be on their way to a fucking club for Namjoon’s birthday-- he groans so loud he’s sure China can hear him. Somewhere on the ottoman Jungkook is waiting patiently while Jimin has his mental breakdown.

Of course he’s waiting for Jimin, even when he’s being a brat Jungkook will always wait for Jimin. He’s like an angel. Earthlings are not deserving of such an entity that is Jeon Jungkook-- he’s truly one of a kind, soft golden skin, a king of duality with a cherubic face and bunny teeth that get rivaled with the tone of his arms or the jut of his jawline or-- Jeon Jungkook is a masterpiece and said masterpiece is also grinning at Jimin, it makes him narrow his eyes because even to Jungkook, Jimin is a joke. “Do you believe me?”

The other boys face switches from angelic and soft to serious and perturbed in the blink of an eye. “I- sure I do. To a point.” He answers. He beckons Jimin to come closer. Jimin tries to sit beside him but Jungkook pulls him into his lap, arms loose around his waist. His head plops on the older boys shoulder and Jungkook smells like pears, he always does, a ridiculous and overpriced organic body wash that he buys online. It reminds Jimin of the fruit markets back home in Busan, it’s a warm smell, comfortably nostalgic.

It uncurls the fingers around Jimin’s lungs, if only slightly. “I’m not crazy.” He glances over his shoulder at Jungkook, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jungkook sighs, holds him the smallest bit tighter. “I didn't say you were.”

“But you're thinking it. Everyone is, I can tell.”

“That’s not-- that isn’t true Jimin,” Jungkook says slowly, his eyes are narrowed and his tongue is sticking out ever so slightly. He’s choosing his words wisely, Jimin knows. “Okay yeah maybe a little but what does that really mean coming from Taehyung? Didn’t he just accuse Seokjin of being a lizard person?”

“He did make a fair point, are we really sure that all of his skincare products aren't meant to just mask his scales?”

“I…” Jungkook eyes are wide, flabbergasted. “seriously you too?”

Jimin shrugs. Jungkook makes a face and continues, “First, hyung is not a reptilian overlord sent here to massacre us and wear our skin as suits. Second of all, you aren't any more crazy than the rest of us, remember that.”

“Thanks I guess?”

“Jiminie listen, you have nothing to worry about and even if you did you have me to protect you the whooole time. Forever.”

That makes Jimin laugh and he stands up, straightening his shirt. “Thank god I have the golden maknae to protect me.”

Jungkook beams “Lucky you.” That coined bunny smile that millions go wild for, what people will literally pay a million won to see in person is sitting only two feet away from Jimin and it fucking lights up the room and yeah he’s very lucky.

Does it make the the feeling that sits like a rock in Jimin’s gut go away? No, it doesn’t. But he shucks off his old Spongebob t-shirt (that has definitely seen better days) anyway and pulls a large scoop necked shirt over his head because he even if he feels like trash that doesn’t mean he needs to look like it too. The sleeves are too long and the collar droops too low and the thin black and white stripes are sort of annoying(and most undoubtedly Taehyung’s). He hates his stupid ripped jeans but he leaves them on. And no it has nothing to do with the fact that Jungkook may or may not have have complimented them at some point like four months ago. The yellow vans he decides to wear also have nothing to do with Jungkook thank you very much.

Jimin drags his feet down the hallway from his room, shoulders slumped--Jungkook is waiting for him by the door, looks up from his phone and smiles when Jimin approaches. “So handsome.” He sounds like he’s only half joking and Jimin lightly shoves his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

Jungkook grins. On the way out Jimin can’t shake the cloud he feels hovering over him.

___

Jungkook is really, really trying to keep near Jimin. But for someone who was bitching about wanting to stay home just a ten short hours ago he really is hiding it well, bouncing from group to group, first the GOT7 boys, a couple of the older members of Seventeen, Jungkook is pretty sure he even spotted Baekhyun somewhere in the crowd.

Jimin’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, the breath of a ghost on Jungkook’s shoulder.

The flashing lights have more than once caught the plump of Jimin’s lips, highlighted his black hair, but when they go dark again Jimin is gone once more and it’s making Jungkook feel very, very uneasy. He was supposed to go to the restroom and come back, clearly that never happened and was probably never the plan.

At some point everyone quit trying to count Jimin’s drinks, he was drinking soju like water and honestly there wasn’t a point-- Jimin has always done what he wanted to do. The most that Jungkook, or any of them, could do was to keep an eye out and really hope that he doesn’t try to get on the DJ stage and start a V-Live or something.

Jungkook knows he’s in the crowd somewhere, but it doesn’t really make him feel any better, especially because he hasn’t seen him in at least twenty minutes. From his perch at the corner booth Jungkook cranes his neck, peering around once more though he knows that it’s probably useless. His heart pitter patters in his chest like rain on a window, fast fast fast and hard because he doesn’t like not knowing where Jimin is, not after the speech he gave earlier that day.

He has to take another drink of the silly fruity thing that Taehyung gave him, and maybe one more because he feels like a shitty person and a shitty friend. Jimin tried to tell them something was wrong, and he got brushed off, hell, Jungkook even pretty much brushed him off; to Jimin, it probably felt like they didn’t care, which is the furthest from the truth, but they didn’t show him that.

Jungkook isn’t sure that Jimin really feels or sees how intensely they care-- how intensely he cares. Jungkook would choke down all of the fruity drinks in the would for Jimin, he’d eat mushrooms everyday for the rest of his life if it meant Jimin would be happy because Jimin hates mushrooms, fuck he’d even give Jimin the last lamb-skewer if he asked; he’d do anything, drop everything and be everything if it just meant that Jimin was okay.

But it isn’t him that Jimin crawls into bed with in the middle of the night, shaking from a nightmare, it isn’t his shoulder that Jimin wets with tears;  he isn’t Taehyung, Jimin’s platonic soulmate, or Yoongi, the one who has undoubtedly broken several noses in his honor. Jungkook isn’t scary and protective in the way that Yoongi is, nor is his brain wired together in time with Jimin’s like Taehyung’s is-- he’s just Jungkook. A hopeless maknae, an adorable child in Jimin’s eyes. The one who screams at video games and makes his hyung’s laugh.

A groan scratches his throat and Jungkook sinks into his seat.  Beside him Namjoon and Seokjin are in a heated discussion. Seokjin is drunk, Namjoon-- well that’s unfortunate because he’s probably not at all. One of the parents has to remain sober at all times and Jungkook thinks that Namjoon drew the short straw today of all days, on his own fucking birthday. Either that or just genuinely doesn’t trust his members not to cause too much trouble.

“Kim Seokjin I don’t care how nice the guy in the restroom was you do not-- no you do not accept drinks from anyone I don’t care if they have purple hair!”

“But like…” Seokjin slurs. He’s laughing his windshield wiper laugh and resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, “purple is nice , purple is good. I purple you.”

Namjoon looks to Jungkook for help, his eyes say kill me but glint with fondness regardless.

Jungkook leans over the table, “He’s right hyung, drinks from rando’s are a big no-no.” He has to shout over the music. Seokjin is blowing bubbles in his cocktail clearly not listening but yet Jungkook is the maknae, here. He rolls his eyes.

Namjoon shakes his head, frowns and then moves the drink just far enough away. “Hopeless.” He says.

Jungkook lets out a short laugh, Seokjin mimics him for no reason other than he wants to laugh because other people are laughing, Jungkook shakes his head. He leans closer to Namjoon again, “You see Jimin in the last decade or is he a ghost to you, too?” He hopes he doesn’t sound too frantic.

After bodily stopping Seokjin from trying to grab the bottle of champagne on the table Namjoon manages something, over the loud bump of music, that sounds like “Not in a hot minute.” His voice his easy, smooth and confident as always, but his eyes are different. His eyes know everything and Jungkook feels them burn into his back as he slips out of the booth.

___

Jungkook weaves through the crowd, standing on his toes to look around among the mass of bodies. He spots Taehyung in the center of a circle with Hoseok, they’re four hundred percent wasted and doing the choreography to Touch My Body in a way that has them both laughing so hard that tears stream down their faces, the crowd around them are in a similar state.He makes his way to the center just as some song in English starts playing.

The crowd smells like expensive perfumes and liquor, the lights have changed from pinks and yellows to a sensual and deep blue to purple, they move slower, dancing across the skin of the bodies on the floor.

Hoseok and Taehyung spot him and their eyes light up, “Kookie, my love, my child. Bring those sexy abs over here.” Hoseok shouts as Taehyung hugs Jungkook from behind.

“Dance with us Jungkookie,” Taehyung coos. Hoseok hugs Jungkook from the front and he’s a fucking maknae sandwich now.

“You both smell like tequila.” Jungkook gags, arms stiff at his sides. He’s still sort of peering around, hoping to catch sight of Jimin who was supposed to simply pee and then return like a normal person like an hour ago-- Jimin is far from ordinary, this Jungkook knows, but he could at least have the decency of a normal person. His eyes scan the crowd and fall empty.

“Can’t.” Hoseok grins, arms squeezing tight around his waist.

Taehyung squeezes too, “Won’t.”

The two of them start to sway to the music, Jungkook sighs and stops resisting, loops his arms around Taehyung’s neck. “Have either of you seen Jimin?”

Hoseok nods furiously, “He looks fucking toasty tonight. Sexy little man.” True. “Just wanna put him in my pocket and take him home.”

“Oh...kay….?” Jungkook tries but doesn't really try to escape, takes a deep breath. “You guys have the same home?”

Hoseok moans, head falling forward onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re right. ”

“He’s wearing my shirt. It’s my favorite shirt.” Taehyung shrugs, not annoyed, if anything he loves that Jimin wears his stuff. Jungkook knows the feeling, seeing Jimin in Too Big clothes is on his top five list of favorite things however, that doesn’t help him right now. They’re stills swaying back and forth and Jungkook sighs loudly, sways half heartedly with them to a song that is probably, most definitely, we belong together by Mariah Carey.

Ironic and suiting.

“Hoseok why is your dick hard and why are you rubbing it on me.” Jungkook says, he's trying to be annoyed by it but all he does is laugh afterwards, though he knows it doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Don't flatter yourself,” Hoseok replies. He wiggles his hips just to be obnoxious. “Don’t pretend like you don't get a half chub thinking about Jimin too sweet little Jungkookie.”

Jungkook sighs, exasperated. “Be serious for two seconds then we can talk about boners all you want.”

“Sorry Mr. No Fun Allowed, I haven't seen Jimin in like half an hour.”

“That’s good, super great...” He sort of  promised that he'd protect him(though from what, he’s unsure) and he's honestly not doing that great of a job. “He’s like, super drunk and I haven't seen him in a minute,” the last time Jimin was left unattended on an occasion like this he was found with only one shoe on and was sporting a brand new piercing through his eyebrow... You can imagine how their manager reacted to that (actually not too bad and it sparked the inspiration for the lip ring that Taehyung now wears for Fake Love-- it’s a big hit with the fans. But that's not the point, the point is that Jimin doesn't need any more piercings on any part of his body).

“Be free my son,” Hoseok releases Jungkook with a very uncivilized slap to his behind, “go find our Jimminie and bring him back in time for Pony!” Taehyung twirls around and blows Jungkook a kiss, his miss you already gets lost in the bump of the music and clamoring of people.

Maybe it’s the weird drinks that Jungkook sucked down that makes his stomach knot up when he spots Yoongi sitting at the bar, alone. Yoongi was honestly Jungkook’s last hope of finding Jimin because if he isn’t latched onto the older boy right now there’s nowhere else that he can possibly think of to find him. He sighs deeply, shoving his dark bangs out of his face as he yanks out a stool and plops down beside Yoongi.

“No luck, huh?”

Jungkook shakes his head, ignoring the fact that Yoongi somehow already knows what(who) he was there for, orders them two of whatever Yoongi was drinking--it’s a bourbon on the rocks and not only is it disgusting but also undoubtedly Yoongi. He nurses the drink in his glass, sloshing it around and clanking the ice against the sides. Yoongi watches him out of the corner of his eye. The older boy looks exhausted, and rightfully so. Yoongi works his ass off and rarely gets the proper amount of sleep that a human being needs to survive, there are dark circles under his eyes and his crimped black hair sticks out in tufts on the top of his head. His eyes are sharp and somber, skin iridescent in the flashing neon lights. He’s beautifully terrifying, like fucking a vampire.

“Do you think we should be worried?” Jungkook finally asks. Yoongi has already finished his drink and ordered another one.

He shrugs, so painfully indifferent always. “Are you?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, confused. “Are you worried?”

“Aren’t you?” Jungkook’s frustrated at Yoongi’s disturbing ability to remain so aloof. Yoongi gives him a look, dark eyes catching a blue light. “Of course I’m worried, and drunk . Drunk and worried about stupid Park Jimin.”

The older boys eyes soften, “I saw him about fifteen minutes ago, he was about to be taken home.” Yoongi sighs, “Jungkookie you really have got yourself in a pickle, don’t you?”

Yes. “No, I don’t know what you mean. Shut up.”

Yoongi takes a long sip of his drink then sets it back down, his long finger taps a rhythm onto the glass, hums it softly.

All of your answers

Are there inside of yourself completely

Within your galaxy

That is within your heart

“What do you think I should do?”

Yoongi looks up. His sharp eyes have warmed around the edges, light pink lips fall into an easy line. indifference. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

Jungkook looks down. He feels Yoongi’s hand fall onto his knee and he squeezes softly, continues tapping the beat into Jungkook’s jean clad thigh. It’s like a morse code message.

So show me, I’ll show you

“If you leave now he might still be awake when you get there.”

There’s half a drink left on the counter and Jungkook downs it in a single, burning gulp.

“Thanks hyung,” He grabs Yoongi, pulling him quickly into a hug. Jungkook’s lips press against his hair. “Come home soon too, you need the rest.”

Yoongi squeezes him back stiffly, voice warm with something eerily similar to affection. “Go home, brat.”

___

So show me, I’ll show you

Jungkook stands outside the door to their dorm, fingers frozen on the handle.

Somewhere behind that door, down the hall and to the left, is Jimin. He’s probably curled up in that silly orange blanket he’s had since he was twelve, wearing his Totoro onesie-- his hair is probably washed free of product and his skin probably smells like roses, makeup of the night wiped off. He probably has their new album playing softly on his laptop, background music. It’s white noise to him, the sounds of their dreams coming true and they lull him into sleep nearly every night. He may be snoring softly the way that he does, the breaths through his nose that come out in short puffs from between his beautiful lips.

His silky hair is probably plastered across his forehead, his skin is probably plump and cheeks pink. And Jungkook knows he looks beautiful.

Four deep breaths and a slap to the face later Jungkook finally lets himself inside.

He kicks his shoes off by the door, there’s a shoe rack down the hall but he leaves them where they lie, he’ll let Seokjin scold him tomorrow but Jimin .

It’s dark, the only light shines from the kitchen, the dim one above the stove, it illuminates the tea kettle that must have been freshly used. He uses his phone to guide his way down the hall to Jimin’s room, the door is just barely open, cracked just enough for Jungkook to hear what Jimin must have fallen asleep listening to.

Jungkook hears his own voice, softly.

On days that I hate being here

On days that I want to disappear

A door was left ajar

I saw you in my heart

And if you cross the small divide

I’ll be waiting for you on the other side

He listens to the song finish, once, then twice, eyes closed and forehead pressed against the doorframe. Jimin fell asleep to a loop of Jungkook’s fucking song.

He slowly pushes the door open, turns off his flashlight and uses the dimmer screen of his phone to shine towards where Jimin’s bed is.

Fuck what the fuck is he doing.

“Jimin?”

Believing is okay

I’ll be there with you in this Magic Shop

“Jiminie?” He says softly. He tries once more when he doesn’t get a response

His heart sinks into his stomach, he reaches forward and feels nothing. Nothing. No Jimin. Jimin isn’t here where is Jimin . Jimin’s gone his bed is empty but he was here, the fucking blankets are messed up and the pillow still feels fucking warm and god dammit he can smell Jimin’s fucking vanilla scented shampoo.

He was here.

Would you believe me

If I told you that I was afraid too

‘Cause feelings always change

Will yours still be the same?

Jimin was here. And now he’s gone.

Poof.

Gone like magic.

___

This was a bad idea from the very beginning, Jimin thinks, he finishes the drink in his hand(the last of a bottle of grapefruit soju that he totally was supposed to share with Taehyung) and moves to find another one. Drinking probably wasn’t going to help the way he sort of felt like he was going to die but whatever, he asks the bartender for a vodka soda and sips it through the tiny black straw that comes with it. It’s an annoying little straw, he can only get drops of his drink at a time but honestly, perhaps that isn’t such a bad thing.

He had told Jungkook he just had to use the bathroom and he’d be right back, that was probably about thirty minutes ago and Jimin knows that he should go back but he just wants to crawl in a hole and die. The burdening thing he does, especially to Jungkook, is probably really annoying. Everyone is out to have a good time and Jimin doesn’t want to ruin that.

It’s always him

He’s always the one who cries, he’s always the baby and he knows that that’s what everyone thinks-- the public, their fans, his members.

Instead of bothering them he tries to busy himself by jumping from group to group; he takes a shot or two with Jinyoung and Jaebum, shares a couple drinks from a bottle of soju with Seungcheol and Joshua from Seventeen. There’s more people, faces he’s seen before but can’t put a name to right now, but they’re familiar and Jimin’s body feels kind of like a wet noodle-- enough for him to push the fact that he’s ditched Jungkook to the back burner of his mind. And yeah maybe he’s an asshole for that. The bright flashing lights dance in front of his eyes and he can’t really see, his vision is blurry and he maybe can’t walk in a straight line. His stomach curls intensely and he clutches it through his shirt as he shoves through crowds of people, his blood prickles through his veins and the goosebumps have returned.

His eyes dart around the premises, going in and out of focus. He really wants to sleep, his eyes begin to droop where he stands.

He has to find someone and he needs to go home . Something is weird and wrong and distantly Jimin can hear his bed calling his name.

Across the room, over dozens of heads, Yoongi catches his eye, already watching him. Probably has been watching him for as long as Jimin has been bouncing through the crowd; Yoongi has a way of doing that, being their eyes and caring without it being noticeable, wordlessly there.

Jimin weaves in and out, they stare at one another when he approaches the bar.

Yoongi places a large, pale hand on Jimin’s face, cupping his cheek. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m not.”

Yoongi nods, pats the seat beside him at the bar. His face is nearly blank but his eyes could cut. “I know.”

He sits beside Yoongi, he rests his forehead on the countertop. There’s a hand rubbing small circles on his back, he knows that Yoongi isn’t looking at him, not even acknowledging his own actions. “Hyung, I need to go home.”

“I know.” Yoongi says again, he stares at his empty drink glass, he doesn’t order another one, just a water for Jimin that he slides in front of his face. Jimin takes a small sip, mostly to pacify Yoongi. The water dries up on his tongue like it hit hot cement and he takes another drink. “It was kind of you to come, we all know you didn’t want to but Joon really appreciates it, his birthday wouldn’t have been the same without you and we never would have heard the end of it.” Yoongi’s voice is soft, languid. The way it gets when he’s been drinking.

Jimin nods slowly, “I’m sure he’d be just fine.”

“Don’t talk like that, Jimin, ” He smiles softly at Jimin, hoping to break through the pain on his face. “He loves you, y’know, we all do. As hard as it is to believe,” he lightly bumps shoulders with Jimin, “we’d all miss you.”

Jimin scoffs, tapping his fingernail on his glass. He needs to trim them, he thinks. “Thanks hyung. But I think I’m ready to go now.”

Yoongi nods, lips pursed. “When did things get so hard for you, Jiminie?” He won’t look at Jimin. To anyone else the older boy probably seems cold, but Jimin knows by the way he bobs his knee and lingers his hand on Jimin’s back that that isn’t true. Yoongi is warm. Yoongi is like Jimin’s stupid orange blanket back at home; safe and warm and comforting.

Jimin shrugs, “I don’t really know, it just... is sometimes.”

“Explain.” It’s not a question.

How? Everyone already thinks he’s fucking crazy.

“I can’t.” he felt like that was true, he’s misunderstood. His feelings don’t make sense and whatever these stupid intuitions are aren’t logical , nobody can understand this feeling when Jimin can’t even understand them. He feels like a black sheep, an outsider among his closest friends. The weird one, the baby.

Yoongi nods again, he won’t pry, he’ll wait for Jimin to come to him like he does. “Would you like me to take you home?”

Yes. “No, that’s okay. I’ll get security to take me.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t go alone, Jimin.” Yoongi is looking at him now, his face reads concern. It’s sort of annoying because Jimin knows that Yoongi is without question drunk, he just somehow always manages to be so… concise… sharp. Like an actual adult.

Me too. “I’ll be okay, I just have to sleep this off, that’s all. I’ll be okay in the morning, I’ll be better.”

“Do me a favor then,” Yoongi says, his face is doubtful but he doesn’t press. Jimin hums in reply. “tell Jungkook. I’m sure he’d like to know where you are.”

For some reason Jungkook seems so distant, the thought of him is like a fading cloud in Jimin’s mind. He reaches for him but just can’t grasp him between his fingers, he floats off. He nods at Yoongi anyway, promising to tell Jungkook where he’s going before he does.

He doesn’t.

Jimin leaves, a short wave over his shoulder at Yoongi and then he’s gone.

He’s already home when text messages start rolling in.

< hoe sock [2:37]: where goooooooOOOoooOoooo

< princess taetae [2:39]: back dat ass up minnie mouse where r u i miiiiiiiiiiiiiiss ur face sweet beautiful delicious face

< namjizz [2:42]: yoongi told me you went home, please be safe we love u we’ll be home soon

< motherjjin [2:42] hi cAN U SEE IF WE HAVE PIZZA ROLLS THIS I S VERY IMPROTANT THANKNU VERY MUC H I LOVE YOU JIMINNIPE

A smile fights its way to his face and he allows it, sliding off his shoes and ditching them somewhere in the living room. In the kitchen, while grinning into the freezer at a bag of pizza rolls, his phone vibrates twice more.

< sugabuga [2:50]: park jimin u were supposed to tell Jungkook you were leaving you are GROUNDED

< sugabuga [2:51]: he’s worried about you and he cares about you. let him

Yoongi is right. Jimin shouldn’t be like that towards Jungkook, he doesn’t deserve the way Jimin is. So unnaturally broken with missing pieces here and there, a loose nut or bolt or both. Jungkook deserves better than what Jimin is, what Jimin gives him, he’s sort of a trash friend and probably a trash person. He thinks about this as he fixes himself a cup of tea, it’s Seokjin’s expensive herbal shit that tastes like dirt and aloe vera but Jimin doesn’t care. He trudges to his room, warming his hands on the mug.

Anger bubbles in his lungs and he growls loudly, whipping his phone onto his bed and throwing himself down face first beside it, he growls again and thumps his feet against the mattress because fuck the feeling is still there. It’s like no matter which way he tosses or turns he can’t be comfortable, the tea isn’t helping, his mind is racing a thousand miles per hour and the short hairs on his arms stick up straight. He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to relax.

It’s like anything and everything could go wrong at any possible second and he just wants to not feel this anymore, he needs to relax before he drives himself absolutely fucking insane. So he does what he always does.

The lights are dim and he sets up his laptop. There’s only one playlist he wants to hear, and it consists of only one song.

I know that you’re hesitating, ‘cause you’re speaking from your heart

Might end up decorating

You with many scars

Jimin lays on his back and rubs a slow hand over his freshly washed face, tries to let the scent of roses calm him and he closes his eyes. He listens to Jungkook’s sweet song, his song.

“I want you to be strong”

Could say that all day long

But let me tell you a story

A little story

They were all so, so proud of Jungkook when he first showed what he had written to Namjoon, the way his soft voice floated with the melody in the air, elegant and ethereal. It was beautiful. Jungkook’s mind is a beautiful place to be explored and this, this song that he produced, that he created, is just a tiny look inside him... It’s something that he wrote for ARMYs, his gift to them. A mirror of his feelings to theirs. It was a link that tightened the bond they felt, group to fans. To one another it was a message; they were there for the boys through everything, they rose them up and ran their dreams up and up and up, and they’ll always, always do the same for their ARMYs. They won’t ever be alone.

On days that I hate being here

Wanting nothing but to just disappear

A door was left ajar

I saw you in my heart

A tear trails down Jimin’s cheek and he clenches his eyes closed, listens to the melody over and over again.

In his dreams he’s floating somewhere dark, he’s spinning and flying around without rhyme or reason. The colors change, purples and blues and pinks, the deepest black he’s ever seen. In the distance he sees a doorway, warm light floods from every side of it and Jimin can feel himself gravitate towards it, body flowing involuntarily closer and closer. Like a magnet he’s pulled further and further into the swirl of colors.

Sit and enjoy a warm cup of tea

As you look up at the galaxy

As he moves, the profound darkness gradually lightens more and more. It softens to a pale blue, flecked with gleaming dots. They sparkle like diamonds in a light that comes from a sun that he can't seem to find, far away but so close at the same time. The vibrant pinks and purples fade, it’s rose and magentas to the palest but most radiant yellow he’s ever seen. He squints, suddenly flat footed on a surface that he can’t see, the doorway less than a foot from his reach. Behind the door a faint sound, it’s angelic.

Pure euphony. He wants to be closer to it. His heart is pulled forward again and he takes a step.

He reaches for it, pushes the door open with ease.

You’ll be okay here

I’ll be there with you in our Magic Shop

He’s in a field. Roses climb up to his knees, painted with gentle shades of pinks and reds, speckled with whites. They wave at him in greeting, shimmying their petals, divine and elegant in a wave that seems to stretch for miles and miles.

Jimin looks around, the air smells sweet, like fruit. Like pears.

From the endless dawn sky falls fluttery pink petals, cherry blossoms dance from above from not there branches and land in Jimin’s hair and on his shoulders, atop the floor of roses. Up above, way in the distance are the dark blues and pinks and purples, swirling together with thousands of stars.

A galaxy .

The whisper of a melody flows from one side of Jimin to another, soft like a whisper carried in the wind, in front of him the roses part, above him the sky lightens to a boundless white. Before his eyes Jimin watches hundreds of morning glories emerge from between the roses, their vibrant purple so eccentric against such a soft palette. Their umbrella shape transforms, blooming open for Jimin and the song gets louder.

So show me, I’ll show you

Pears. Why does he keep smelling pears?

So show me, I’ll show you

It’s louder, right behind him.

So show me, I’ll show you

Show you

Jimin turns around, it’s slow motion. Every color around him blends together as he twirls, he has to close his eyes, the music is clear. Right in his ear.

You gave me the best of you

Now you give you the best of you

The world stops spinning and Jimin opens his eyes. Right there in front of him is Jungkook, he looks celestial.

You found me here I am

It’s always been you from the start

The same glow from the doorway traces it’s way around Jungkook’s frame, his skin looks soft and pink and so angelic that Jimin just wants to touch it . And pears, that damn smell of pears radiates from him as he smiles. His pink cheeks are bunched up beneath his eyes, they twinkle with something that Jimin can’t describe as they watch him.

“Park Jimin, there you are.”

You found me here I am

It’s been you right from the start

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s like every word he’s ever known or learned has disappeared or gotten lost on his tongue, like he’s swallowed glue and can’t speak but he breaks into a run towards Jungkook anyway.

Jimin stops, only about a foot away. Jungkook takes a step closer, they stand just a couple inches apart.

So show me

“Jungkook.” Jimin whispers, for some reason not being surprised in the least bit, “You’re so...” beautiful gets lost on his tongue and he reaches a hesitant hand out, lightly stroking Jungkook’s cheek. The younger boy catches Jimin’s hand with his, holding it to his cheek, he fits their fingers together.

He doesn’t answer him, just looks at him with soft, welcoming eyes, his deep fuchsia hair gleams in the light.

“Say something, please.” Jimin pleads, closing his eyes.

“It’s okay Jiminnie, it’s all okay.”

I’ll show you

Jungkook squeezes his fingers softly.

“Wha-what? Tell me what’s going on.” Jimin squeezes back, eyes still closed. “ Please .”

There’s pressure on his lips, it’s soft, it’s warm. It smells like pears and feels like home and it’s Jungkook.

You gave me the best of you

Now you give you the best of you

It’s Jungkook, delicate lips, strong hands cupping his cheeks. “Please don’t leave me.” Jimin whispers.

You’ll be okay

Jimin doesn’t want to pull away but he feels Jungkook getting further and further from him, Jimin’s name faintly on his lips.

“Don’t be scared.”

You’ll be okay now

Here in our Magic Shop

___

This is fine, everything is fine.

Jimin isn’t actually gone, perhaps he’s in the bathroom. Nope, not the bathroom. Taehyung’s room? Nope. Fuck.

God, it feels like Jungkook is going to shit his heart out.

“Jimin this isn’t fucking funny! ” Jungkook is shouting though he knows that nobody can hear him, his mind backtracks as he thinks. There was no sign of a break in, no sign of a struggle (fuck he’s so drunk right now what the fuck ) and Jimin’s phone isn’t here. He would know because he’s called it four thousand times and he’s also flipped Jimin’s room upside down trying to find it.

Okay, maybe he just went for a walk in the middle of the night.

Jungkook sits down on Jimin’s bed and rests his chin in his hands, rubbing his eyes, what can he do right now? Should he wait until everyone gets home? Probably not.

But they’re all drunk.

Wait.

Namjoon isn’t drunk. Thank god fucking Namjoon isn’t drunk.

> me [3:02] hyuNG

< poon [3:03]  what did you do jeon Jungkook what did yo u DO

> me [3:03] uhm rude of u to assume that i did something wrong

> me [3:03] but i sort of lost jimin

> me [3:04] actually no i didn’t but like he isnt here?????/ but he clearly was here?????? Im truing not to freak out

> me [3:04]  namjo n seriosly im crying literally sobign right now please help me what do we do jimins gone

< poon [3:05] i’ll be home in fifteen do not fucking leave and keep the door locked or so help me god i will rip your face off

Jungkook does as he’s told. He locks the door, doesn’t leave. He curls up in Jimin’s orange blanket and it smells like vanilla and Jungkook thinks he might throw up, but he doesn’t, instead hot tears trace down his cheeks and wet Jimin’s pillow beneath his head. Magic Shop is still softly playing in the background and every time he hears Jimin’s verses Jungkook can’t help but choke on the sobs that crawl their way up his throat, they rack his entire body and when Namjoon and the others get home he’s a shaking mess beneath a mound of Park Jimin TM scented blankets.

His eyes hurt and his throat hurts, his head is throbbing and his heart fuckinghurts.

There’s commotion, drunk Taehyung, Hoseok, and Seokjin commotion.

“This… is not good.” It’s Yoongi, he sounds distant, like he’s standing in the doorway, hesitant to enter. “I should have come home with him, I… fuck I knew I shouldn’t have let him leave alone.”

Jungkook burrows deeper into his cocoon. He doesn’t want to hear them.

“Don’t.” Namjoon is somewhere in the room, the music cuts off and the lights flick on. The feeling in the room shifts, becomes heavy and angry. Jungkook hides his face.

Down the hall he hears Hoseok’s booming voice, it gets closer, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting around Jungkook’s skull. Moments later the bed depresses, a warmth crawls it’s way behind Jungkook, he’s wrapped in a pair of arms he knows belong to Hoseok. They squeeze him tightly. The scent of basil and cedar and tequila floods Jungkook’s senses, he wriggles backwards towards the comfort and squeezes his eyes shut. “Shhhh,” Hoseok slurs. He’s drunk, warm and breathy and cuddlesome. “S’okay Jungkookie don’t cry, you’re too cute to cry. Sweet bunny boy, our golden maknae it’s okay. I love you.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, his voice is stern but beneath that facade it shakes ever so slightly. “I have a phone call to make.”

“What are you going to say?” Yoongi’s tone is cold, angry almost. Jungkook feels the older boy radiate an energy that screams where’s Jimin I have to find Jimin and self blame. “Do we go to the police? He’s gone fuck, he’s gone Joon this is fucking serious what if he’s hurt--”

“Yoongi I don’t know , Christ. I don’t know, okay? I’m going to make a phone call, make sure they get to sleep, we don’t need everyone freaking out right now and we still have our duties in the morning.”

“ Duties? Namjoon are you insane?”

Namjoon lands a fist on the wall, it projects a loud thump that startles the two boys on the bed, Yoongi is unwavered, arms crossed as he stares Namjoon down, “I’m trying not to go insane here, okay? I’m trying not to freak the fuck out no matter how much I really, really would like to. The fact is that I would love to cancel every single one of our comeback shows and interviews fuck cancel the whole fucking tour for all I care, but we just can’t . If we panic, the whole world panics, we need to handle this quietly and in the meantime do what we have to do.”

Yoongi takes a breath, cracks his knuckles. “Without Jimin.”

“If we have to right now, yes .”

Yoongi growls, takes a step closer to Namjoon. Jungkook watches with wide eyes from beneath his fingers at the way that Yoongi’s fists clench and unclench, veins pulsing beneath his skin. He won’t hit him, but Jungkook can tell that he wants to.  “We aren’t us without him.”

It’s an unpleasant sight, seeing the muscles in the back of Namjoon’s neck tense and quiver in reaction to Yoongi’s raised hackles and pursed rosebud lips.

“I know that.” Namjoon says, eyes still narrow.

“But you still want to proceed without him?”

“I will do what needs to be done to keep this out of the media and away from the fans, hyung, we need to protect everyone. Not just ourselves.”

“That’s bullshit Namjoon and you know it. This isn’t about anyone besides Jimin, we need to protect him .”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, runs a hand over his tired face. It seems as though fine lines of age and nervousness appeared around his mouth out of the blue, as though Namjoon has aged up years and years in just a moment.

They stare one another down, Jungkook is now propped up on one elbow because honestly he feels like they’re about to tear each other to shreds right in front of him and he’d really, really like that not to happen. Though it’s clear that the two of them have much more to say, Yoongi just scoffs and Namjoon rolls his eyes. He shoulders his way past Yoongi out of the room.

Nobody tries to stops him.

___

When Jimin opens his eyes again his flowers are gone, his galaxy is gone and so is Jungkook.

Early morning sunlight filters through the pale green curtains he doesn’t remember having, though if he thinks about it hard enough he kind of remembers Taehyung having an eerily similar set in his room(weird he doesn’t remember falling asleep in Taehyung’s room…) Also now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that Taehyung is the only person in the world that he knows to have a four foot tall stuffed rilakkuma that usually finds it’s way around the dorm, appearing in the corner of his room, behind the door in the bathroom, in Hoseok’s closet, Yoongi’s bed...

But that’s his own laptop sitting on the desk… and those are his shoes. This is his orange blanket.

And there’s another bed across the room. It’s covered in a pile of clothes that look frighteningly like Taehyung’s as well as his collection of stuffed animals and a sleeping lump that is definitely Taehyung.

What the fucking fuck.

What.

The fuck. Is going on. What is happening.

Jimin has to still be dreaming, there’s nothing else that would possibly make sense. He and Taehyung haven’t shared a room in at least two years. It’s just not logical, it doesn’t make sense. Nothing is making sense, just like his dream. Nothing makes any fucking sense at all.

His heart rate is through the roof, he’s going to puke up his lungs.

It has to be a prank. Jimin was too drunk last night, that’s all, and everyone was totally pissed at him for leaving early so naturally they… snuck Taehyung’s bed…. Into his room… and yeah that sounds fucking insane. Was he that drunk?

No.

There’s no way.

Jimin narrows his eyes, the layout of the room isn’t even the sam- “Oh my fucking god.”

“It’s too early, either come be my big spoon or shut up and go back to sleep.”

Horrified, Jimin flies out of bed. “This is not happening.” His heart is beating a thousand times a second, his blood pressure is fucking through the roof and he fears that might actually drop dead. He screeches to the ceiling.

“I’ll kill you,” Taehyung whips a stuffed giraffe at Jimin, misses, it hits the wall and plops to the floor. “I’ll kill you and sing all of your solos I don’t care .”

But he’s already out the door and running to the bathroom, nausea boiling in his stomach because he’s pretty sure he saw green fucking streaks in Taehyung’s brown hair and Taehyung hasn’t had those ghastly streaks since… fucking….

No no nonononononononono.

“Oh my god .”

Orange.

It’s fucking orange.

Jimin’s hair is orange.

Fucking RUN era orange.

The scream he lets out probably curdles the milk in the fridge and that’s just too damn bad because Jimin doesn’t care his hair is orange . He grips the pumpkin locks with his fingers and yanks on the strands, staring at himself in the mirror. There’s no logical way that this is happening, he’s going insane. He laughs wildy, tugging on his hair with such force he’s pretty sure that he ripped a chunk out.

There’s no way he isn’t in a coma or something, stuck in a horrible, horrible nightmare for an undefined amount of time.

He splashes ice cold water on his face, slaps himself on the cheek, even twists the skin on his forearm hard enough to bruise and holy fuck he is still in the bathroom, of their old dorm looking at the orange hair that used to be a fucking normal color for once in his entire life. Why couldn’t whatever god that did this send him back to Spring Day era when he had fucking adorable pink hair.

God is cruel.

Jimin screeches again, tears down the fucking horrendous Winnie the Pooh shower curtain that he distinctly remembers burning to death when they moved into their new dorm . He wrestles it to the ground and becomes entangled in the plastic, he’s sure he sounds like a wild animal getting axe murdered but he’s also pretty sure that he’s justified and doesn't give a shit.

Moments later there’s a knock on the door, “Jimin, uh, is everything okay? Do you like, need help or something?” It’s Yoongi, oh thank god it’s Yoongi he’ll fix this. Jimin will just ask him to punch his face and then he’ll wake up and it’ll be fine everything will be okay.

“Come in.” Jimin calls. He’s laying on the floor, he’s groaning, defeated by Winnie the Pooh and ugly orange hair.

Yoongi opens the door, his head of pale green pops in. His brow crinkles the slightest bit but somehow he doesn’t look surprised, amusement twinkles in his dark eyes. “Uh?”

“Hyung, there’s something horribly, horribly wrong here.”

“I’d say so, yes. You destroyed our bathroom.” Jimin mhm s. “Right… why though?”

All Jimin can manage is, “Orange.”

Yoongi nods slowly, “Yes Jimin, orange.”

“ Green .”

Now Namjoon and Seokjin are huddled behind Yoongi, peering inside. Jimin sits up and sees Namjoon’s cotton candy pink hair, “What’s the date today?”

“December 18th 2016,” Yoongi replies, eyebrow cocked up curiously.

Jimin doesn’t get a word out before he’s falling back down, head landing with a thump on the tile.

“Did he just…” Namjoon begins.

“Knock himself out?” Seokjin finishes.

Yoongi nods, arms crossed. “Yup.”

___

Yoongi growls under his breath, he wants to scream. Scream and punch the fucking wall and figure out what the fuck was going on and how Namjoon could be so calm ; this must be why he’s is the leader and not Yoongi, this simple fact that Yoongi has zero self control and probably would have sent out the Jimin version of the bat signal in the sky by now and also cancelled every show they have for the next two years. Something that Namjoon probably hasn’t even thought about doing.

From the doorway he watches Hoseok nuzzle the back of Jungkook’s neck, burrowing in and releasing a soft snore moments later, Jungkook’s eyes are closed now, twitching softly beneath his lids. He knows the younger boy is awake but says nothing.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, blinks slowly and walks forward. He sits hesitantly on the edge of the bed. His head is cradled in his hands and hot tears press against the back of his eyes and fuck . This is his fault.

His fault his fault his fault.

He sniffles softly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Jungkook stirs, whispers, “Hyung?”

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.” Yoongi replies. His voice is soft, like he can’t hide the fear that he feels. Jungkook wiggles a little bit, he’s half sitting up, resting on his elbow again while Hoseok’s body seems to mold to his shape-- comfortably unaware of what he’s going to wake up to.

The moment he looks at Jungkook he sees a pair of big eyes watching him, large and watery and scared. “Yoongi, I’m afraid.”

His heart shatters into a million pieces when Jungkook’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, Yoongi can’t help but reach out a hand and pet Jungkook’s mussed red hair, he tries to flatten the unruly strands, fails, moves his hand to stroke a soft line down the younger boys cheek. “Get some sleep.” Yoongi says, looking away, “everything will be okay.”  He doesn’t know if it will in fact, be okay. He isn’t sure, and he can sense that Jungkook doesn’t really believe it either. But he still nods solemnly and lays down, he holds tightly onto Hoseok and Yoongi knows that it isn’t Hoseok he wishes was laying there with him.

As he walks down the hall, away from Jungkook and Hoseok, and towards his own room, he knows-- he knows that that was an empty promise, he doesn’t know if Jimin will be okay and he doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. When he gets to his room he can’t even bring himself to change out of his flannel and jeans. After he slams his door shut he crawls straight into his bed and thumps his fists against the pillow as hard as he can muster, he whips his stupid fucking pillow across the room and no he doesn’t give a fuck that it smashed his lamp to the ground. Somewhere out the door and down the hall, Namjoon is shouting, Seokjin’s soft voice, now void of inebriation, is trying to soothe him.

Yoongi covers his head with his pillow. Hot tears pour down his cheeks angrily and he’s so, so fucking mad at himself. This could have been prevented if he had just went with Jimin like his instincts told him to, Jimin would probably not be unaccounted for if he had just not accepted no for an answer, if he had just pressed a little bit more and made Jimin wait for him. His brain feels like pudding and the world spins behind his eyelids.

In the back of his head Yoongi hears his door creak open, pale yellow light filters into his dark room. His face is currently buried under his pillow and he doesn’t lift it, only peeks out from beneath it, he groans when whoever opened his door lands a couple of soft knocks against the wood.

“Hyung?”

Yoongi reveals his face, sure that he looks a wreck, the light eyeliner he wore for the night out is presumably rubbed down his face at this point and his stupid kinked hair probably looks ridiculous. He grunts at Taehyung, who’s lingering half in half out.

“What is it, Tae?” Yoongi doesn’t even recognize his own voice, terrifyingly defeated coming from his own mouth. His throat is dry and it feels like there’s something lodged in his throat, he tries to clear it.

The younger boy stays quiet in the doorway, Yoongi sits up. Taehyung is bobbing from foot to foot, shifting his weight and nibbling on the corner of his thumb, it’s dark but Yoongi can see that his eyes are puffy and his face is tear streaked. He still doesn’t answer Yoongi, only sniffles softly and stares at his toes. He flinches when Namjoon’s voice booms particularly loud and then a door slams.

Silently, Yoongi scoots to the other side of the bed against the wall and lifts the blanket, welcoming Taehyung in, “C’mon.” He says softly.

Taehyung scrambles across the carpet without hesitation and crawls in beside Yoongi, suddenly sobbing deeply as he flings himself against Yoongi’s chest, it feels as though the whole bed is shaking and Yoongi doesn’t know what to do. He presses his cheek against Taehyung’s hair and tries to control his own breathing, he counts 1...2...3… over and over again because he can’t break down right now. Taehyung’s body vibrates with cries and his tears are soaking Yoongi’s shirt and Taehyung his gripping the fabric of his flannel so tightly that it seems like he’s scared that Yoongi will disappear too.

Yoongi can’t disappear, he has to hold Taehyung together.

He has to stay here.

Yoongi takes another deep breath, Taehyung’s hair smells like strawberries and Yoongi closes his eyes, at some point finds himself running his fingers up and down Taehyung’s spine gently. He quietly hushing Taehyung, using his free hand to brush away the stray hairs that are latched to the younger boys face by tears and sweat and fear. They lay there for endless minutes, not saying anything, far away voices are softer now and the tension in the air of the dorm seems to be settling finally.

Thoughts of Jimin, though, are still running through Yoongi’s head, Jimin laying in an alleyway or Jimin alone on a train going somewhere far away, Jimin in the back of an ambulance, Jimin Jimin Jimin .

“Yoongi?” Taehyung mumbles, voice filled to the brim with sleep, slow and deep and laced with drink, it pulls him from thoughts of Jimin’s crimson blood painting the streets. His deep voice breaks the silence.  Yoongi hums, eyes still closed. “Do you have the feeling that like…” He trails off, Yoongi can feel the gears in his brain working to find the right words. He twirls the hair at the nape of Taehyung’s neck around his fingers, a silent urge to continue. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not. Nothing you say is stupid Taehyung.”

“Hyung.”

“You know what I mean, now spit it out.”

Taehyung grunts, he’s fiddling with the hem of Yoongi’s shirt nervously, hiding his face. “Okay. Do you sort of feel like, I dunno, like everything is okay?”

Yoongi glances down at him, hands freezing on his back and in his hair, “No.” Taehyung flinches and Yoongi sucks a breath through his teeth, sort of feeling like an asshole. “Elaborate?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Like, I’m scared? Because I don’t know where Jimin is? But at the same I feel like he isn’t gone, it’s like everywhere I go I feel like I’m going to turn around and he’ll be standing there, brushing his teeth or washing out the teapot or bothering Jungkook while he plays Overwatch…”

Pondering, Yoongi bites his lip. It doesn’t make sense, but somehow, somewhere in the deepest recesses of Yoongi’s self it does make sense. Taehyung starts to ramble, trying to save himself from sounding crazy and Yoongi gives him a quick sh . “I don’t think I really know what you mean, I don’t feel like it’s okay, but… but I don’t know, you and Jimin are platonic soulmates or whatever-- so to that degree I guess if you’re feeling a certain way it’s probably for a reason?”

Taehyung just hums and Yoongi really, truly doesn’t understand.

___

“Should we… call someone?”

“Who should we call Taehyung? And what are we going to tell them? Hi yes, Park Jimin world famous K-Pop singer had a existential crisis over his hair and lost a fight with a shower curtain and also asked me to punch him in the face repeatedly.”

“Which you would have done if we didn’t stop you.” Seokjin says, bored from the couch.

“Not true.”

Taehyung is hovering over Jimin who is now laying on the floor with his head propped up by a Namjoon’s ryan shaped pillow; he also at some point started out on the couch and at some point threw himself off, nobody felt the need to move him for the risk of being whacked by his windmill arms was just too high. Jungkook tried and almost got decked in the face and that was the last of that. Still kneeling over Jimin, Taehyung’s brow creases and his head cocks to the side like a confused puppy, he brushes a strand of orange hair from Jimin’s face. “No need to be so sassy hyung, I’m just saying. This is weird, right? Does nobody else think it’s weird that he keeps mumbling about hair in his sleep?”

“Maybe he just prefers red?” Hoseok ponders, he’s laying under the coffee table with his hands folded under his chin watching Jimin slowly wake up; it’s only half creepy. His feet stick out the other side and Namjoon kicks them softly, fondly, from his spot on the couch, “It did look pretty good that way, like strawberry ice cream.”

“Can you stop being weird for like, two seconds hyung? He’s clearly already traumatized.” Jungkook is in the kitchen by the sink, there’s a damp cloth in his hand that he wrings out tightly before joining everyone else. There’s a bemused smirk on his face but a worried crease in his brow as he crouches beside Jimin, resting the cool towel on his forehead and patting away the sleep-anxiety beads of sweat, he’s making soft shushing sounds that are probably meant to be comforting but just sort of make everyone else giggle.

Jimin’s throat feels like a desert and speaking physically hurts but finally manages a curt “Stop staring at me.” It startles Hoseok and he bashes his head against the top of the table and groans, Seokjin’s glass of orange juice goes flying and a bowl of pretzels is flipped into the next dimension.

Jimin’s voice is hoarse as he tries to sit up, one eye half lidded in a perma-twitch, “Perverts.”

“Welcome back Jiminnie,” Jungkook says. The sound of his voice sends Jimin into a post traumatic spiral, flashes of galaxies and flowers and pears and Jungkook .

So show me, I’ll show you

His lips, his smell, his voice.

Jimin flies up from the floor and catapults himself across the room, Jungkook drops back on his butt in shock and Jimin is backed into a corner with wild eyes, everyone in the room is eyeing him like he’s an escaped mental patient. Jungkook is still, body rigid and cloth forgotten in front of him, Hoseok is out from under the table now, he’s making a face that screams what the fuck . Namjoon and Seokjin look puzzled, frozen on the floor with paper towels soaked in juice while Taehyung is jaw dropped on the floor. Leaning against the archway leading to the kitchen Yoongi is rubbing his temples.

Slowly Jungkook rises, arms out in front of him in surrender. “I come in peace.” He says. Jimin tries to hide further, his shoulder digs uncomfortably into the wall and he’s tangled in cobwebs but in front of him is Jungkook, fuschia hair gone and replaced by soft brown that hangs in his eyes, the silver rings that adorned his lobes are gone and in their place are the small black plugs he used to sport. In his peripherals he sees flashes of green and pink and this isn’t a dream this is real life what the fuck.

Somehow, some way, Jimin was sent back in time. Sent back two and a half years. Makes perfect sense, right?

Ha ha.

Totally normal. This happens to everyone.

Seokjin clears his throat, “Can you please tell us what’s going on? This is weird, even for you Jimin.” Hoseok is eating crushed pretzels off the carpet, nodding.

Jimin can’t speak, he’s eaten glue and his eyes dart around the room. The faces are familiar, they’re comfortable and they’re his home . He’s trying to remember that despite the differences in fucking hair colors these are his friends, they aren’t strangers.

Jungkook is cross legged in front of him now, one large hand resting on Jimin’s knee. He squeezes softly. “Jiminie?” His eyes are big and anxious, plump bottom lip sucked between his bunny teeth. Jimin notices a red dip in the soft flesh, a small sore that Jungkook must have nibbled. He does that when he’s worried.

“This isn’t right.” Jimin whispers, he looks around again. “None of this is right.”

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks over his shoulder, sharing a concerned glance with their friends behind him, he nips at his lip, tongue darting out to soothe the tiny droplet of blood that surfaces. “You have to help us understand.”

Looking away, Jimin sighs. He feels himself getting ready to cry and he wants to go home , he tries to swallow the feeling down and far away but his shoulders tense and then droop, a sob shakes his body. In moments Jungkook has him wrapped up in a hug.

Pears.

“What the fuck is going on,” Yoongi mumbles to nobody in particular.

Namjoon rises off the couch, grabs hold of Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s wrists to drag them along. “I think… we should give them a minute.” Seokjin and Yoongi follow suit, faces still washed with uncertainty.

When the room is empty Jimin doesn’t even try to quiet his cries, he wails loudly and he knows there’s snot dripping from his nose and his face is red and puffy but he lets Jungkook pull him closer and closer anyway. The younger boy drags Jimin into his lap and cradles him there. Jimin covers his with his hands and he rocks back and forth, mumbling nonsense into Jungkook’s collar.

Nothing is making sense, he’s scared. He’s so, so fucking scared and he wants to go home. It’s like this is some nightmare that he can’t wake up from.

His mind is racing faster and faster and he can’t breathe , air fills and leaves his lungs too fast for it to calm him down. He’s hyperventilating before he can stop himself and he barely registers the feeling of Jungkook all over him; lips against his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, the top of his stupid orange hair. He’s hushing him, soft whispers of his lips against his skin, strong fingers hold his body steady as Jimin shakes and shakes and shakes. He barely registers Jungkook surrounding him and it’s weird but so, so good but Jimin screeches again and he tries to get away because his mind and body are moving at two different paces.

Jimin’s begging to wake up, to go home and to not have fucking orange hair.

“Jiminie please talk to me,” Jungkook pleads, his voice wavers and comes out too fast, he’s attempting to hold Jimin tighter. “Tell me what’s going on so we can help you, tell me what to do Jimin what do I need to do?”

With one more loud cry Jimin shoves at Jungkook’s chest lightly again, “It’s orange .” He whispers.

“Hey,” the younger boy says softly, he tilts Jimin’s chin up with two fingers, “we can change it. We can change the color it’s not that big of a deal okay? We’ll change it, make it blue if you want. We can fix it.” Jimin wails towards the ceiling, “Not blue? Shit, okay um pink? We can do pink, you’d look so cute pink Jiminie.”

“I’ve done pink! ” Jimin’s face is wet and snotty and gross and he wipes it all over Jungkooks sweater.

Mildly disgusted and ferociously confused, Jungkook just sort of allows it to happen. “Uh, when? I’m sorry if I don’t remember but uh? You’ve never gone pink? Right? Am I crazy? When did you--”

“A year ago, Jungkook. I had pink hair a year ago.”

Suddenly Jimin is laughing madly and Jungkook sort of holds him away, eyes wide in horror, an expression that everyone else secretly calls the Poop Face. Jimin giggles rabidly, face turning a shade of pink as tears stream down his cheeks. “I had pink hair a whole fucking year ago, when we released Spring Day.”

“Spring Day?”

Jimin laughs again, crawling out of Jungkook’s lap, he tucks his knees to his chest, rocks back and forth like the crazy person he is. “Yep, Spring Day.”

“That’s not… we don’t even have a final version of those lyrics yet? They’re-- that song is just a bunch of concepts written on sticky notes all over hyungs studio?”

Jimn’s nodding, his fingers are latched into his hair again and he tugs softly. Great, if everyone didn’t think he was fucking crazy two years from now they definitely are about to here .

Jeonnguk still looks like he's about to Poop, he’s nodding though he clearly has no clue what’s happening. “And you said a year ago?”

“Yes.” Jimin deadpans. He sees several heads poking around the corner, Hoseok and Taehyung flail and topple over one another when they’re spotted, Seokjin and Namjoon’s hushed voices scold them distantly.

“Right, that’s what I thought you said.” Jungkook sits beside him, back against the wall. “If we released Spring Day a year ago, even though it’s not even finished and our next album doesn’t debut for like a year-- you’re saying… What exactly are you saying?”

___

“You’ve officially lost your last marble, Jimin.” Yoongi states.

They’re all seven crowded into the living room, the one that is half the size of their much nicer dorm two years from now, some on the couch, the rest sprawled on the floor. Jimin is shoved into Jungkook’s person, trying to ignore the feeling of a large hand wrapped around his waist, Seokjin is on his other side on the sofa. In front of them on the ugly carpet Taehyung is playing with Yoongi’s hair, Namjoon and Hoseok lean back on their palms, watching Jimin like they think he’s going to start crying or punch one of them again.

“So you’re telling me that you’re Jimin, but from the future. A future where we’ve broken America and performed at the BBMAs and also the AMAs and also where you no longer have orange hair?” Seokjin sounds like he’s reading from a list, he sucks his teeth when Jimin nods.

Taehyung gasps, whacks Yoongi repeatedly on the chest, he catches the younger boys hand and holds it still, pats it twice. Jimin’s eyes narrow at the way that Taehyung begins to fiddle with the ring on Yoongi’s finger.

“That explains the freak out! So future Jimin doesn’t have orange hair, what about future Taehyung what does he look like? Is he… me…? Am I as devilishly handsome as I am?” Taehyung’s having trouble articulating his words and looks to Yoongi for help, he nods him on.

There’s a collection of groans. “Jimin just told you he’s from the future and that we’re monumentally more successful and all you can think to ask is about yourself? ” Namjoon scoffs.

Taehyung guffaws, “Right, don’t pretend you guys aren’t the least bit curious too!” he sticks his tongue out.

Jimin is still watching Yoongi and Taehyung. While Yoongi has never been totally opposed to physical affection from the members, he’s never really encouraged it that much unless he was trying to comfort them. Even in that case they’re lucky if he touched them with a five foot pole, but low and behold there he is, twirling his fingers around Taehyung’s, almost as if it were just habit. He slides one of his rings off and pokes it onto Taehyung’s finger.

Jimin chokes on his own spit, “What the fuck is going on?” Seokjin is reaching over to clap him on the back as Jimin coughs.

“You’re seriously asking us that?” Namjoon quirks an eyebrow but then follows Jimin’s gaze. “Ah…”

“What? Are Yoongi hyung and Tae not a disgusting item in the future?” Hoseok chuckles, he’s joking. His smile disappears when Jimin meets his gaze with stone eyes.

“That’s weird,” Yoongi ponders, he’s so casual, it’s really annoying sometimes. “Did we break up or something?”

Taehyung whines.

“No, you don’t get it. You guys never were an item .” Jimin’s on the edge of his seat now, Jungkook’s fingers still linger beneath the hem of his shirt, softly stroking the skin of his hip. Jimin almost shakes him off but refrains, heart thumping heavily in his chest.

Yoongi and Taehyung’s fingers freeze, still meddled together.

This is all crazy and if Jimin ever gets home he’s going to immediately emit himself into a psych ward.

“That’s an interesting new development.” Seokjin says slowly, nodding as though he understood what was going on though clearly nobody has any fucking idea.

Hoseok’s eyes are narrowed and his jaw is dropped to the floor, “They’ve been together for a few months now, ever since we found them in the shower together that one tim-”

“ Details .” Yoongi spits.

Shaking his head, Jimin leans back and runs a hand over his face. “Not in my reality.”

The faint memory of Taehyung’s dirty shower dream flashes in Jimin’s head, odd that it became a reality in some weird alternate universe, he snorts at the thought. His Taehyung back at home would be thrilled , but the one in front of him sort of looks like he’s going to throw up his heart onto Jimin’s feet like a hairball.

“That’s not funny.” Yoongi growls, he has Taehyung’s hand clamped painfully in his. “Jimin that’s not fucking funny.”

Nobody in the room expects Jimin’s voice to raise so much, it startles Jungkook. “Does it look like I’m fucking laughing?”

Yoongi jumps to his feet, ready to fling himself at Jimin before Taehyung latches onto his arm. Hoseok is already to his feet and so is Namjoon, Jungkook is rigid next to him and Seokjin is groaning; children , he says. The tension in the room is so thick that it’s becoming difficult to breathe, Jimin almost hopes that he’d just pass out, maybe he’d wake up back in his own bed and not have to deal with this stupid shit anymore.

“I think… we all need to relax.” Namjoon tries, arms held out between Yoongi and Jimin, pressed against their chests to keep them separated.

“Good idea.” Jungkook agrees, nodding furiously.

Still breathing unevenly, Seokjin holds his hands up. “Let’s just talk for a minute okay? Okay. Great. Everyone sit the hell down.”

Without word or question everyone sits back down.

Taehyung’s face is contorted into something of pain, “We were never together?” he’s mumbling into the air, Yoongi hushes him with a soft peck to his thick lips. That seems like something Jimin will never get used to seeing and he makes a face, dropping his head into his palms. He presses his eyes with the ball of his hands until he sees stars.

“No, Taehyung and Yoongi hyung never got together where I come from, God the closest thing any of us ever got to a relationship was Jin hyung and Namjoon,” confused looks fall on him, “Hoseok’s birthday party.” He explains.

He’s trying not to think of Jungkook and how maybe, maybe there was something there before he disappeared and woke up in this alternate hell. God it’s like Jungkook’s fingers are burning Jimin where they’re touching and he takes a deep breath, a chill runs up his spine. The thought of just curling into the younger boy is eager, it pokes at Jimin’s urges but instead he moves away, tucking himself away into the couch. He doesn’t see the look of hurt wash over Jungkook’s face, or the shared glances among his friends.

They all spend the next hour or two comparing realities. Jimin learns that this world is pretty much identical to the timeline in which he lived, with few changes here and there, relationship wise or roommate wise, their schedules shifted here and there.

If only Jimin had Namjoon’s old planner, he would probably be able to align them perfectly, dates and times and all.

It’s not until hours later, when everyone is off doing their own thing, that Jimin hears quiet chatter coming from the kitchen. He creeps down the hallway from his and Taehyung’s room, back against the wall as he peeks just barely around the corner, Jungkook and Namjoon are standing in the middle of the tile. Both of their faces read variations of frustration.

“-he doesn’t even realize.” Jungkook is saying, voice low.

“So tell him! You don’t know how he feels and won’t until you tell him.”

“I can’t do that hyung, you saw how he reacted to his hair color, what’s going to happen when I tell him that he used to love me here? It's clear that in whatever fucked up dimension he’s from he doesn't. ”

Namjoon’s face falls. Jimin’s breath catches in his throat and he gulps softly, his heart beat thuds in his ears and he feels like he can’t even see straight. “Jungkookie, he’s still Jimin, alternate timeline or not.”

“He doesn’t love me in his world hyung, I’m so scared.” Jungkook’s voice breaks, choked by a short cry that gets muffled by Namjoon’s sweatshirt.

“Jimin doesn’t love me.” Namjoon holds him tighter. “I love him, hyung I love him so much but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember me the way I remember him and it hurts so bad.”

“He does love you Jungkookie, he does .”

“Not the way I love him.”

“So show him . Make him remember.”

All of your answers

Are inside of yourself completely

Within your galaxy

Within your heart

Jungkook loves him.

So show me

Jimin’s going to throw up.

I’ll show you

___

The light filtering into the bedroom when Jungkook wakes up is bright, too bright. At least early afternoon bright.

Hoseok is still plastered to his back and Jungkook literally has to peel their skin apart, he winces and groans quietly. His head pounds and his tongue is dry as fuck and he rubs his eyes, his fists come away with dark brown smeared around them and he groans again. Hoseok wakes up when Jungkook bodily flings himself back on the bed. “Rude,” he grumbles, he rolls over and hisses towards the window, tugs Jimin’s orange blanket over his head to block the sun.

Jungkook just grunts at him. There’s a glass of water on the bedside table, beside it are a couple aspirin that he knows are Namjoon’s doing; he chokes them back with a gulp of water and a deep sigh and one thought.

Jimin .

“Good morning starshine,” Yoongi says from the couch when he spots him, he’s sprawled out with a leg on the coffee table, Taehyung’s head is in his lap, he’s carding his fingers through the younger boys hair. Yoongi is blankly staring at the television, KiKi’s Delivery Service is on despite the fact that Taehyung has forced everyone in the dorm to watch it at least four thousand times. Jungkook assumes that Yoongi is just being soft today, understandably, because it’s clear that Taehyung has sort of disassociated from his body what with his platonic soulmate being missing and all.

Relatable.

Jungkook narrows his eyes, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a sip that he promptly spits it out in the sink because it’s fucking cold and has probably been sitting there for hours-- his members dwell too early for his liking. He retches for a few more seconds and swears under his breath.

Life really can’t get much worse can it.

“Nobody woke me up.” He finally manages, taste of bitter coffee still stuck in his throat.

They probably had important things to do today, that suddenly weren’t so important because obviously if they had been they’d be you know, doing those things, not potatoing around the dorm.

“Figured I’d let everyone rest,” Yoongi answers, he’s wrapped Taehyung’s hair into a small sprout of a ponytail. “Namjoon managed to free up our next couple of days, you should thank him.” The words sound distant coming from the older boy, they don’t reach his eyes. Like he himself doesn’t even want to thank Namjoon.

Jungkook knows this most likely means that Yoongi probably threatened to chop his hair off in his sleep if he didn’t at least try to buy them some time, Yoongi may be small but man if he isn’t equally as terrifying. Jungkook just nods, he gives up on the coffee and gets a glass of juice before meeting Yoongi and Taehyung in the living room. There’s a distinct feeling of eyes on him while he tucks himself away in the couch, he side eyes Taehyung whos gaze dart away when noticed.

They do that at least six more times before Jungkook growls.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Kim Taehyung, I’ll kill you right now with my bare hands.”

Taehyung kicks blindly in Jungkook’s general direction, barely missing his cup. The liquid sloshes back and forth dangerously and Yoongi groans, head tipping back onto the cushions. He’s clearly given up hope and doesn’t even flinch when Jungkook slams his juice down on the coffee table and stands up, fingers wrapping around one of Taehyung’s ankles and dragging him off the couch.

“No no no no,” Taehyung’s eyes are wide as he’s pulled. “respect your eLDERS!”

The older boy yelps and claws at the fabric of Yoongi’s sweatshirt, who simply unpries his fingers, trying to gain leverage as Jungkook yanks him to the floor with a thump. He lays on his back and stares at the ceiling, eyes void and face blank.

Yoongi peeks downwards, “You broke him.”

“I’ll do more than break him next time.” Jungkook grumbles, standing over Taehyung and poking him in the side with his socked toe. “Quit faking it hyung, you’re fine.”

Taehyung blinks slowly, “I’m dying.”

“Stop it.”

“You stop it.”

“Don’t make me come down there.”

“Bet you won’t.”

“BET.”

They’re rolling around on the ground when Namjoon emerges from the hallway, Taehyung has a handful of Jungkook’s hair, Jungkook is nibbling on Taehyung’s ankle. They both sound like wild animals and Jungkook doesn’t care, they’re both only half joking as they wrestle around on the floor.

“Yoongi why are they playing wrestlemania in the livingroom again,” Namjoon asks, he has headphones wrapped around his neck and a pencil behind his ear. “I thought we agreed to limit it solely to their bedrooms after the incident .”

“They’re going to break something,” Seokjin suddenly says from the armchair across the room.

Jungkook freezes, eyes turning into tiny slits, “Where did you even come from?”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“No you haven’t. ”

“ Enough ,” Namjoon says miffedly, “either cut it out or go play somewhere else.”

The two boys separate, Seokjin sits smugly, Taehyung side eyes Jungkook before plopping down on Yoongi’s lap again.

Namjoon drops down on the large couch, “Now kiss and make up already.”

Taehyung moans loudly and dramatically, Jungkook scoffs.

“Love you Jungkookie.” The older boy finally says.

“Sorry for biting you.” He replies, sheepish. He crawls back into his spot on the couch and slurps his juice.

“Sorry for ripping your hair out.”

Yoongi is laughing and so is Seokjin, but then a suffocating silence washes over them, it’s like they all simultaneously thought of Jimin. Amidst the silence Hoseok appears finally, hair stuck up every which way in spikes of dark brown. He wordlessly joins them by sprawling out on the floor, he grunts when he’s greeted. They watch the movie in silence for what has to be near an hour considering it’s close to the end, either nobody can muster the energy to say anything or nobody knows what to say.

“Are we just not going to talk about this?” Seokjin finally breaks the silence, Taehyung pauses the movie. Jungkook takes a deep breath, tries to shove himself further into the couch to disappear. His insides are twisting uncomfortably and he feels exactly like how Taehyung looks; half dead. It’s like any second that he forgets that Jimin isn’t here he’s instantly reminded by the stupid lack of vanilla wafting in the air or stupidly adorable sneezes or stupid  high pitched laughter or a stupid small fingers playfully whacking his xbox controller out of his hand while he plays.

“What exactly would you like to talk about? The fact that Jimin is missing and there’s nothing that we can do about it? The fact that we cancelled our obligations claiming that half of us have the flu instead of admitting that we fucking lost Park Jimin? Or wait, the fact that for some reason Namjoon refuses to go to the police?” Yoongi is pure ice, like the love child of Jack Frost and a literal snowman, words like icicles shooting from his mouth.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, it snaps shut when Yoongi holds up a hand. Jungkook watches with wide eyes as Yoongi sucks a sharp breath through his teeth and keeps going, eyes hot and fists clenched.

“He’s gone, we don’t know where he is. He could be fucking dead- ”

“ Hyung .” Jungkook gasps.

“--he could be dead in a ditch and we’d have no idea because we’re stuck here doing absolutely nothing.”

Hoseok is sitting up now, Seokjin’s face is stone and he points a long finger at the other boy, “Do not talk like that Yoongi, you know exactly why we have to stay here. First, we can file a police report in twelve hours, the stature is after 24 hours it’s considered a missing person. Second, we can’t leave because we’re all kind of supposed to be throwing up our insides remember ?”

“Who cares!”

“ Guys, stop it.” Hoseok loudly begs, his eyes are wide and his usual sunshine smile is gone.

There are voices tripping over one another, everyone’s yelling. Curses and shouts are bouncing off the walls and hitting everyone in the face-- Taehyung is burrowing in on himself, he’s covering his ears with his hands while Yoongi shouts across the room at Seokjin, Hoseok is pleading with everyone to stop, Namjoon is standing in the center now. His hands are raised as he tries to get everyone to shut the fuck up for two seconds, Taehyung flinches bodily into Yoongi and he looks so, so small even though he really isn’t. Jungkook’s heart throbs in his chest because Taehyung isn’t a dainty flower that needs to be protected but right now it seems like he is and that-- that sight, that fact, is heartbreaking.

It feels like Jungkook’s brain is about to explode, he has hundreds of words climbing around in his mouth but he chokes them all back because it’s pointless-- it’s all pointless and painful and fucking scary like what the fuck. There is no point in screaming at them to look at what they’re doing to Taehyung, there’s no point trying to remind them that this isn’t a fight between each other, there isn’t a point because Jimin is still gone .

Wordlessly, Jungkook rises and pads back down the hallway to Jimin’s room.

He feels him there, he can smell him and fuck maybe Jungkook’s crazy but he feel’s Jimin in the air. He’s trying to ignore the loud voices from down the hall and around the corner but it’s like they’re getting louder and louder even though they’re so, so far away. After dropping to his knees Jungkook covers his face with his hands, he screams into his palms and honestly doesn’t really care if it’s muffled or not.

He stays like that-- hunched over and crying and pathetic for what feels like hours though is probably only minutes. He stays still until the other members fall silent, until thumping footsteps trail up and down the hall outside Jimin’s room and doors slam in their wake.

Jungkook remains sobbing and alone until he finally, with much effort, drags his miserable self up and into Jimin’s bed. The smell of vanilla washes over his senses as he wraps up once again in the ugly orange blanket he’s somehow grown stupidly attached to; he isn’t tired but he finds his mind wandering, floating far away from his body. A soft melody filters through his mind.

So show me

I’ll show you

His eye close at their own accord, he floats slowly upwards. It feels like he’s hovering above his own body but all he sees is white, all he can smell is fucking vanilla and all he can hear is Jimin’s voice. The air around him gets darker the higher he drifts, it’s a deep, dark indigo, crystalline specks flicker past him and in the distance he sees more. More stars, more colors-- pinks, purples, blue, deep and bright, until they’re light.

A pale yellow is thrusted into his eyes as he comes to a halt, floating in nothing. He can barely move, his body won’t let him look anywhere but towards the ring of bright light in front of him; far away in his head he wonders if he’s dying, if this is what it’s like, but he hears Jimin’s voice again and feels so alive . He gravitates towards the portal, it shimmers in a light that Jungkook has never seen before and suddenly he feels serene, his insides have stopped fighting one another and his head is clear, the throbbing gone.

It pulls him closer, willing him to step through; there isn’t a door, but it opens for him anyway.

He’s overwhelmed by what he sees, an artistry of color in front of him. Pinks, deep reds and snow white roses cover the ground beneath is feet, they part a path for him as something lures him closer. The air smells like roses and vanilla , the sky fades to a pale, robin’s egg blue, a mangle of galaxy far in the distance, a too-big for this world crescent moon hangs above his head. It’s beautiful, not of this world.

Magical.

He hears the melody again, Jimin’s voice willing him deeper.

If you cross that small divide

I’ll be waiting for you on the other side

Jungkook treads further, through where the roses climb over his head, they too let him through.

His heart, for the first time that day, settles in his chest at a normal rhythm when he sees someone standing in the field ahead; there’s more roses, but here, through the path, cherry blossoms rain from the sky, cried out by an even more vibrant moon, morning glories are rising as he walks. They bloom, beautiful purples kiss his ankles.

Jungkook smiles. “Park Jimin, there you are.”

Jimin turns around, and he is radiant . His cheeks are flushed pink, his eyes twinkle and reflect the colored ocean surrounding them, his head an unlawful shade of orange. Jimin’s eyes widen when they spot Jungkook, he breaks into a sprint to meet him in the middle, they stand just a foot apart.

Jungkook takes a step closer, they stand just a couple inches away from each other.

So show me

“Jungkook.” Jimin whispers, Jungkook’s ears ring at the sound of his voice, his heart palpitates just once, “You’re so...” Jimin trails off, eyes wide and a smile dancing on his red lips.

Beautiful, Jungkook thinks, Jimin looks beautiful.

Jimin reaches a hand out, hesitant, slow. His fingers lightly stroke Jungkook’s cheek and he leans into the touch, the smell, Jimin . He catches Jimin’s hand with his, holding it to his cheek, he fits their fingers together.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, he’s trying to find words but he can’t stop smiling, can’t stop looking because Jimin is here , right in front of him.

“Say something, please.” Jimin’s voice is soft, his words drawl in a way that makes Jungkook swallow thickly.

“It’s okay Jiminie, it’s all okay.” He says, squeezing Jimin’s fingers again.

I’ll show you

“Wha-what? Tell me what’s going on.” Jimin squeezes back, his eyes are still closed but his brow crinkles slightly. He holds Jungkook’s fingers tighter. “ Please .”

There is nothing in this world that Jungkook wants to do more than pull Jimin close and kiss him, kiss his beautiful lips and hold him and just tell him how loved he his. He wants to tell Jimin not to disappear again, he wants to beg him to never leave.

He’s pulling Jimin close before he can think of one reason not to, he has Jimin’s face in his hands, skin so soft beneath his fingers, lips full against his own. They taste like how Jimin smells, there’s electricity in every spot where they connect.

You gave me the best of you

Now you give you the best of you

“Please don’t leave me.” Jimin whispers. Jungkook has to kiss him harder because he feels himself going, now, he feels the pull towards his body in Jimin’s room, on Jimin’s bed.

He wants to stay, he wants to stay here with Jimin in his arms but he knows, he knows somehow, some way, Jimin is okay. They’ll be okay. Jungkook can feel it.

You’ll be okay

You’ll be okay now

Here in our Magic Shop

“Don’t be scared.” He says, stroking Jimin’s cheek one more time.

___

The past couple of days went by in an essentially uneventful blur; it’s like his members were half tip-toeing around, trying to make things normal for him, not talking about the future or where he’s from or what their future selves were up to. And lucky for him their schedule is even free for the next two weeks, what with Christmas right around the corner and whatever, they have some time off.

He knows that the members would like to be home with their families for the holiday, but he’s grateful that they’ve decided to stay here with him, instead; Jimin can’t even imagine going home here, not like this, not to see his parents, or his little brother aged down two whole years. They each made a phone call or two, gave their apologies, and then dutifully erected a christmas tree in the center of their small living room.

They spent his second day there in santa hats, drinking horrible hot chocolate(because no matter how many times you show Hoseok he will always, always , burn the milk in the pan. It’d be endearing if they didn’t have to start smuggling pre-made stuff from a cafe in the city, pouring it secretly into their mugs to avoid hurting his feelings) and fighting over who gets to place the star on top.

“Hyung, you can’t paste a picture of your face on the fucking star.” Jungkook said, watching with amusement as Seokjin stands on a step-stool, adjusting the star so that his smiling face was staring down at them, ominously.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Seokjin grinned over his shoulder. “Look at me, I’m so handsome.”

Namjoon snorted from the couch, “He isn’t wrong.”

“Who’s side are you on?” Jungkook grumbled, he sipped his hot chocolate loudly until Yoongi whacks the back of his head.

“Why can he put his literal face on the tree, but when I try to put a picture of Chris Pine on top I get yelled at?” Taehyung was sprawled on the floor, eyes on the tv.

(“Hyung, ask me what kind of tree we have.”

“No.”

“Go on ask.”

“No--”

“It’s a Chris Pine.”)

“Because that’s dumb.” Yoongi teased, poking his foot with his toe.

Taehyung kicked at Yoongi with earnest. “It’s funny .”

“It is kinda funny.” Jimin said.

And they carried on like that, like nothing was different and everything fell into place; Jimin didn’t hear anything else about the conversation that Jungkook and Namjoon had in the kitchen, nobody mentions anything about he and Jungkook and he doesn’t ask. The younger boy is trying, Jimin can tell, though. He can see when Jungkook’s fingers twitch to link with his, can see it on his face all of the times Jungkook wants to kiss him, touch him.

He can feel the I love you , even if Jungkook won’t say it.

He felt it when Jungkook lightly rapped on his bedroom door late on his third night; Taehyung had wandered off to Yoongi’s room and left Jimin alone with his thoughts, which was fine. He had done a lot of pretending to be unbothered by this entire situation, trying to act like he didn’t miss the way things were supposed to be, who he was supposed to be.

“Hey,” Jungkook had said, softly, voice barely there. There was a look on his face that Jimin couldn’t pinpoint as he lingered half in half out.

Jimin looked up from his phone, he had been staring at Taehyung’s contact in his phone. They have different numbers, future Taehyung and this Taehyung, Jimin was considering trying to text future Taehyung when Jungkook appeared. “You can come in, y’know.” He replied, dropping his phone on his chest.

Jungkook looked hesitant, taking only a small step into the room. He bobbed from foot to foot and looked practically anywhere besides Jimin, he seemed to be staring intently at the pair of boxers that dangled from the ceiling fan, Jimin followed his gaze upwards and grinned.

“Taehyung.” He noted.

The tiniest of smiles quirked at Jungkook’s lips, he nodded, “Naturally.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Jungkook looking at his toes and Jimin looking at him look at his toes. Jimin cleared his throat, “Kook?”

“What-- oh yeah, I uh, I’m doing laundry… was wondering if you had anything you want done.”

Jimin scooched to the end of the bed, “Since when do you do laundry?”

Pink flushed Jungkook’s cheeks, he nibbled the corner of his thumb, shrugging. “Does your Jungkook not?” He asked, only momentarily looking at Jimin when he mentions his Jungkook, like even saying it aloud hurt him.

“Not particularly.” Jimin answered quietly, standing up to begin gathering the rogue clothing items on the ground, he even snatched the boxers from the fan.

“Well,” Jungkook said, taking the clothes from Jimin, “he sounds awful .”

That made Jimin laugh, Jungkook laughed too. “He’s not so bad…” Jimin trailed off.

Jungkook coughed awkwardly.

“I think I like this one a little more, though.” Jimin didn’t know why he said it, but the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up gave him all of the answer that he needed. The younger boy was grinning as he turned to leave, arms full of Jimin’s dirty clothes. “He does laundry.”

Jimin watched him get ready to go, “Hey, Kookie?” His own voice came out a little more panicked than he intended.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked confused, eyes darted down to where Jimin’s fingers were latched in his t-shirt. “For what, hyung?”

Jimin took a deep breath, he didn’t realize that he was holding Jungkook, didn’t know when he did that or even when he crossed the room to do so. “I’m sorry that I’m different, from your Jimin-- your guys ’ Jimin.” What he really wanted to say was that he was sorry that the Jimin that Jungkook loved wasn’t here anymore, that’s what he wanted to say.

Jungkook’s face fell, softened around the edges and he had suddenly looked like he was sixteen again, nothing more than a teenager. His cheeks were big and pink, eyes wide. It washed away when Jungkook caught his bearings, he blinked away the tears that he thought Jimin didn’t see and then smiled, all bunny toothed and sweet. “You’re still my Jimin.” Jungkook whispered.

Then he left.

A couple hours later, after they had dinner and Jimin returned to his room, there was a pile of clean Jungkook scented clothes folded on his bed. Jimin sat next to the pile, shuffling through it to find something warmer to wear; he had forgotten how drafty their old dorm was, makes him miss the newly sealed windows and heated floors of their new one. It dawned on Jimin just how spoiled he is at the precise moment that he pulled free a hoodie from the stack.

It was Jungkook’s, red with white stripes on the sleeves, the word off embroidered in white threat on the chest. And it’s massive, Jimin remembers it being two sizes too big on Jungkook, on Jimin it’s about three. The sleeves hung over his hands and the hem fell about three quarters of the way to his knees, but it was warm and it smelled like Jungkook. Jimin wrapped himself in it, yanked the hood up over his eyes and curled up in a ball on his bed. He knew that the hoodie wasn’t there by accident, it’s very vividly Jungkook’s, but at that moment Jimin was nothing but grateful and warm.

He closed his eyes, drifting off into a stupor of an after-dinner nap. Somewhere deep down he registered feet padding into the room, the bed depressing. His mind felt fuzzy, drunk with sleep, but he knew what he heard.

A soft, “I love you, Jiminie. I--I miss you.”

Then Jimin was alone again.

Jimin didn’t sleep much after that.

___

It isn’t that Jimin doesn’t want Jungkook. If he wasn’t aware of it before this, after that dream and what Jungkook had said, and what he had heard, he is mostly definitely aware of it now , of the yearning he feels tugging at him from every direction; the natural way he curls into Jungkook’s touch, gravitates towards him throughout the day, craving the proximity, craving the smell of pears and those strong hands on his cheeks again. But what is Jimin to do? To love Jungkook right now, here, would mean nothing, not back home. Not in the world he’s supposed to be in.

If he loves Jungkook here, if he lets himself love Jungkook… what happens when he finally wakes up in his rightful bed, with the Jungkook that doesn’t love him this way?

The feeling has him exhausted, all of this does.

There’s a tension in the dorm, between all of them, like there’s a secret they’re trying to keep. A secret that Jimin already knows, that sort of eats away at him all day everyday-- they think that he doesn’t see the pitiful looks that they send Jungkook’s way when Jimin fades away from his grasp, they think that Jimin doesn’t hear whispers behind closed doors. Which he doesn’t, not very well, anyway, but he hears enough.  And Jimin knows how difficult this is for not just Jungkook but everyone , because their Jimin is gone and replaced with a broken one from a different fucking dimension, one that doesn’t know who to love or how to love, one who keeps crying over his ugly orange hair and can barely sleep in his own bed.

God even Yoongi and Taehyung are trying to keep their relationship under a curtain, Jimin can tell that they are actively trying not to startle him, they hardly touch when he’s around and that just makes him feel worse-- like he’s stealing Taehyung away when he isn’t Jimin’s to steal. But they allow it, he pulls Jimin into his bed one night when he’s tossing and turning, just like back home, Yoongi seems nothing but placate about it. It was probably his idea, Jimin knows, and he goes along with it, even takes Jimin in his room one night. The nights he spends in bed with either one of them feels different, because it is, because now they love one another and it feels like Jimin is invading. But if they feel that way they aren’t letting it show, they both still pet his hair or cuddle him until he sleeps, just like they would if Jimin was home.

He spends a lot of time with Taehyung, like he usually would, he has a feeling that he’s been designated as Jimin’s babysitter. Taehyung, a dutiful platonic soulmate, tries to keep him busy.

Jimin and Taehyung are sitting on the floor of their room, backs pressed up against Jimin’s bed on day four of life in this weird alternate universe, tossing snacks into one another’s mouths and everything feels almost normal , he hears Yoongi and Namjoon bickering about dinner options down the hallway with Seokjin shouting over them because I will cook, I always cook why are you even arguing about this , Jungkook and Hoseok are playing Overwatch in their respective rooms, shouting back and forth through open doors instead of using headsets.

It feels like what Jimin is used too.

“Yoongi and I seriously aren’t together?” Taehyung is saying, currently pulling Jimin’s god awful hair into a spout of a ponytail on the top of his head, one to match the two Taehyung has in his own hair. Jimin shakes his head, shrugs. Taehyung huffs. “We haven’t even like, secretly hooked up behind your guys’ backs or something?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a secret if we knew about it.”

“True.” Jimin chuckles, Taehyung huffs again. “That’s stupid. I find it very hard to believe that Yoongi can resist me in any universe, especially one where I apparently can rock blonde hair.”

“I wouldn’t say you rock the blonde hair,” Jimin teases, whining when Taehyung pulls a little too hard on his ponytail. He makes up for it after by sharing his strawberry banana kicks, and for the first time in ninety-six hours Jimin feels content, the anxiety seeps out of his pores and he feels like maybe he can breathe again.

He drops his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, sighs softly, Taehyung presses his cheek to Jimin’s hair; Jimin can feel his cheeks bunch up in a smile and Taehyung sighs, too. They feed one another banana kicks in silence until the door slams open, Namjoon and Yoongi stand in the doorway, covered head to toe in flour and looking only slightly disheveled and entirely fed up.

“Seokjin kicked us out of the kitchen.” Yoongi says, answering a question nobody asked. He stomps into the room and throws himself on Taehyung’s bed.

Taehyung crinkles his nose, “You’re messy.”

“It’s been worse,” Yoongi replies, winking in his general direction, arms crossed comfortably beneath his head.

“Gross?” Namjoon says, he’s on Jimin’s bed now, he pats Jimin’s head from where he sits.

“Wake me up when dinner’s ready.”

Jimin sighs again, the smell of meat cooking fills the room, Seokjin is singing a girlgroup song loudly(and horribly), Hoseok and Jungkook are still shouting, Yoongi snores softly and Taehyung lays his head in Jimin’s lap and he finds himself smiling, leaning into Namjoon’s fingers that scratch his scalp idly.

It feels like home, different, but home.