Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jungkook is confident. He looks good, and he knows it. His hair is tastefully combed and parted, he’s wearing his best outfit to date—a clean white shirt, a pair of jeans, and to top it off, a striped shirt-like hoodie jacket thing he bought at uniqlo at forty percent off, what a steal. Honestly, Jungkook’s not entirely sure as to what that last item is, but it does look fancier than anything in his wardrobe, and that’s all that really matters. It’s a startling change from his black oversized t-shirt-and-basketball-short combo, nevertheless a necessary sacrifice to be the very best he ever was. Today’s challenge demands it. He looks clean and presentable. Perfect. The world will swoon at his knees. Hopefully. 

He’s ready. He can do this. He’s faced stronger enemies to defeat before (like that time he was stuck with a zelda temple and spent five weeks trying to figure out how to solve the stupid dumb thing without cheats—he’s not weak ), this is nothing. 

Come on Jungkook, you’ve been planning this for three months. You know you want this and you know you can get it. You’re a strong man who’s proud of his emotional fragility. It’s 2019, this is good, this is what the people want. No one can stop you. Jungkook takes a deep breath. This is it. 

“Excuse me, could I get one adult ticket for the The Notebook special event please?” 

It comes out barely above a shy whisper, although Jungkook feels very much overheard.  

The sales person raises an eyebrow with vague disinterest. They hold a staring contest for an approximately good seven seconds (Jungkook timed it on the smart watch his brother gave him, although threw away might be a better term. So wasteful, he had to sift through recycling to retrieve it. Jungkook doubts it even belonged there). 

Now, Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything (that’d be impolite of him) but he’s pretty sure he’s being judged in this very moment. His face increasingly feels like it’s heating up to a well-cooked tomato red. The people in line are starting to get impatient, and at this point, he can even hear the aggressive foot tapping of the customer directly behind him. All this does is make Jungkook want to bury himself ten thousand feet underground. 

“Sir, this is the snack bar. The ticketing kiosk is over there to your right.”

Well. That went well. 

If he thought his face couldn’t get any redder, he was wrong. Jungkook doesn’t know if there’s a color redder than red, but if that were a thing, he’s pretty much ninety-nine percent sure his face would reflect that color. 

The sales person continues to look at him, Jungkook staring back dumbfoundedly, waiting for him to move the fuck on. He soon catches on and discreetly tries to shuffle away in a walk of shame from what apparently was the snack bar —who even puts the snack bar ahead of the ticketing kiosks—without making a fool of himself any more than he already did. 

Regret washes over him. He should’ve saved himself some embarrassment and ordered them online. It would’ve been faster, it would’ve been easier, and nobody would have known he was out there watching bad American sappy romance films. 

He probably should’ve just stayed home. But it’s too late to walk away now, he’s no quitter.

Jungkook barely makes it to the kiosk without ripping his skin off and fleeing to the states, practically crab walking against the wall to buy his ticket. Yes, that’s it—he wants to be a crab right now. A crab would be nice. Can crabs play handheld video game devices? Whatever, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the countless stares of strangers pounding into his back. Jungkook feels increasingly queasy. 

He quickly activates the machine and randomly picks a seat on the map, not bothering to look for the perfect viewing experience, just tapping repeatedly to get this over with—and maybe his debilitating fear of humiliating himself in front of crowds. 

Once his movie ticket is printed he scurries over to the lounge chairs. He has roughly twenty minutes until the room opens and Jungkook wonders whether that’ll give him enough time to shrivel up and be swallowed by the couch he’s sitting on.  

At least, Jungkook relishes in the comfort that things couldn't get any worse. He braved what this cruel, cruel world has to offer, and maybe it plunged him head deep into major embarrassment, but hey, he has his ticket. And that should count for something. Right? 

Jungkook startles. He is immediately distracted. 

A high pitched wheezing sound echoes from somewhere behind him. It somehow sounds like a dying cow, and he immediately worries that an animal has been set on the loose. He’s seen a goat run into a restaurant once and that shit was not funny, especially after it headbutted his knees and he almost got kicked out for wrestling with the evil beast, one out of ten do not recommend. Jungkook dramatically turns around, to find that—to his genuine great surprise—a farm animal is not actually collapsing behind him. Right, this is Seoul, not the countryside. 

Instead he is met with some random—and maybe obnoxiously good looking, Jungkook thinks—stranger. The man is wearing a white short-sleeved button up paired with some fancy, certainly not-uniqlo jeans, and he looks more like he belongs at a cocktail party by some sea-side resort eating lobsters than at the cheapest movie theatre in Jungkook’s neighborhood. 

Said stranger crouches down on his knees as he tries to stop himself from croaking to death with laughter. Kind of surreal and maybe a tad bit impolite, but Jungkook doesn’t judge. Who knows maybe the guy is having a cardiac arrest or something. 

The man proceeds to wipe non-existent dust off his knees and stands back up, coming face to face with Jungkook. 

“Oh my god,” the man finally wheezes out. He still kind of sounds on the verge of death. “Thanks dude, that was hilarious.”

Okay, so definitely not cardiac arrest. 

“Excuse me?” Jungkook says, a tiny bit affronted—he believes he has the right to be. 

“Just, holy shit,” he keeps on laughing. Jungkook is getting more and more confused by the second. “Do you do improv or something? Because that,” he points at the snack bar, “was amazing.” 

The handsomely hot— shut up lizard brain —man is clutching an obnoxiously large drink in his hand. Realization washes over him like a bucket of ice cold water being splashed over his favorite computer. The man smirks as Jungkook takes in his drink. Oh no. Ohnonono. Fuck. The guy had to overhear him in his grand moment of dumbassery at the snack bar. Perfect. This has to rank in his top ten worst experiences Jungkook suffered through with humans, ever. Pure mortification.

Jungkook considers for a second. He’d say top five. He takes back whatever naive comment he made a few minutes ago. It could get so much fucking worse. 

“Do you have a problem with me or something?” Jungkook asks a bit crisply. He hasn’t even had a full conversation with this dude and he already wants to punch his rude ass. 

“Oh no, not at all. It’s just, wow, I haven’t had a good candid laugh in two weeks when suddenly you appear and save me from my misery. I mean, who asks for The Notebook special re-run at the fucking refreshments service,” the man says as he wipes his tears of laughter, his broad shoulders shaking faintly. 

It is absolute discrimination that the stranger look so wholesome and beautiful while poking unabashed fun at Jungkook’s misfortune. Disgusting, Jungkook thinks (to whom he addresses that word remains to this day, a mystery). 

“What the fuck,” is what Jungkook actually says.  

“So like,” the man continues, apparently not deterred by Jungkook’s furious glare, “what kind of person goes out of their way to watch a sappy romance alone?” He glances around Jungkook’s vicinity with a disappointed nod, as if to make his point more obvious than it already is.

“You’re alone too, loser,” Jungkook snaps back. 

The guy doesn’t budge. If anything his smirk just widens. Dammit, why does this man keep hitting all of Jungkook’s hot points in his dating book. “Well then, fellow loser, mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Fuck you. And the name’s Jeon Jungkook not loser, loser,” Jungkook retorts.  

“Gladly. Kim Seokjin, and I’d say based on your looks, you can have the honor of calling me hyung. But worldwide handsome is fine too, I’m not too picky Jeon Jungkook-not-loser,” the man, or well, Seokjin, says as he extends his hand out with a smile. Fuck if that smile doesn’t outshine all smiles in the universe. 

Jungkook doesn’t know whether he wants to punch this guy or take him out on a date. 

*               *               *

(meanwhile, fifteen meters away)

“—and that’s why I think Horikoshi could’ve made better use of Todoroki’s powers in the tournament arc,” Taehyung finishes up as Jimin hands him one of the two slushies in his hand. 

Taehyung takes a sip from it as Jimin nods along attentively—blue raspberry, his favorite. This is why they’re soulmates.

Jimin considers Taehyung’s words as he rips a packet of gummies with his mouth, humming a little. “I mean, I’ve never really encountered a tournament arc that I’ve enjoyed more since yu yu hakusho, so I guess it’d make sense that I’d be a bit disappointed,” Jimin says as he chews on a gummy worm. 

“Also, was it just me or did you see a loser trying to buy his ticket at the snack bar? Don’t know about you but I felt that second-hand embarrassment. Deeply. Honestly, I don’t think I’d ever get over failing that miserably,” Jimin continues. 

Taehyung stares at Jimin, now munching on a second green-orange worm, with tender fondness. No one gets him like Jimin does. 

It’s a wonder how love can make even the smallest things seem ethereal, Taehyung muses. The way the corners of his mouth turn up the slightest bit when Taehyung rants on and on about an author for creating misogynistic characters that serve no other purpose than foul comedic relief. The way his eyes crinkle when they bring their hands together on a starlit mountain, constellations brighter than the midnight sky itself, but never quite glowing like Jimin. The way his soft laughter echoes in the dim light of food stalls after a full meal. The way his face is captivated with rapt attention while Taehyung explains the unspoken words that lie behind a canvas. 

How Jimin doesn’t just make him think, but make him feel. 

He wants to smother Jimin with love and kisses until he laughs from how much it tickles. This is why they’re soulmates. He doesn’t think he’ll ever experience a bond like the one he preciously built step by step, brick by brick with Jimin.

“—odeling job next month?” Jimin breaks him from his reverie. When Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately, Jimin fixes his eyes expectantly.

“TaeTae, were you listening?”

A fraction of guilt washes over him. Taehyung loves listening to Jimin monologue, he really does, but it’s not his fault that the simple act of Jimin breathing can still make him weak in the knees after all these years. He’s not truly guilt-ridden though, how can he be, when Park Jimin is reason enough for his brain to dissociate? 

“Huh? Oh, no, sorry. Got distracted thinking about how you make me feel all soft and fuzzy inside. Ignore me, I’m practically a giant marshmallow right now. Did I tell you that you look amazing today?”

Jimin smacks him playfully with his open packet of gummies, as they start heading towards their designated screen. Despite his bravado, he’s still blushing furiously. “Aish, yes you did, at least ten times already. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he pauses dramatically, gracefully pulling into a three-sixty spin for full effect, “expect with me, obviously, please, do go on.” 

“If you insist, I will indulge in the opportunity. Jimin-ah, you’re the star that brightens my day, the colors that paint my blank canvas, the thighs that can—”

Taehyung barely stops himself from tripping over, startling Jimin who is now playing a balancing act with his drink in one hand and gummies in the other. 

Halfway towards their destination, he spots three men walking down the red carpeted hallway opposite them. So does Jimin as he also abruptly stumbles mid-step to gawk at these three strangers who much more rightly belong on the set of mean girls. Although their clothes aren’t particularly remarkable, and maybe even somewhat soft—jeans, long sleeves, buttoned up shirt, and one dude in an adorable sweater screaming ‘kisses’ on its front (Taehyung swoons)—the aura they give off is blindingly powerful. 

The tallest’s eyes are hidden with a pair of sunglasses and looks like he walked straight out of the Matrix. The kisses boy walks with so much confidence he could trample over the entire population of Busan (probably), and the shortest’s hands are covered in more rings than Jimin’s entire ring collection. Taehyung lowkey wonders if they’re part of some underground mafia. 

“Oh shit, Jimin-ah, do you see what I’m seeing?”

Jimin is currently fixated on the taller of the three, sizing him up. It would seem that this hot stranger has apparently very, very long legs. And very long legs are always a major plus in the Taehyung and Jimin household. “Hell yes baby.” 

“Jesus, they’re so hot it’s kinda illegal. I’d say it’s kind of unfair, but that’s senseless since a whole you exists.”

“Says the most handsome man alive,” Jimin smirks back. Taehyung grins, taking Jimin by the arm like the gentleman he is.

“Do you think they’re going to watch that new thriller? Even their popcorn makes them look furiously badass. They look ready to tear down this club.” 

“Well,” Jimin swallows another gummy. “I’d say mayhaps this isn’t a club and they look like they’re about to watch Snowpiercer, but I also genuinely have no idea other than I’d rather snack on these dudes than their popcorn.”

“God I love it when you read my mind. This is why we’re soulmates,” Taehyung smiles and nods appreciatively.

“And maybe take them out on a date,” Jimin adds after they pass by the trio.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Says you. Don’t think I forgot when you romanced me last weekend with that surprise candle-lit dinner. You went full power sap, mister.”

“Touché,” Taehyung shrugs, unable to hide his overflowing affection.

*               *               *

(meanwhile, twenty meters away)

They end up staring at giant posters of the latest releases. Namjoon scoffs with the slight disdain of an occasional cinephile, shaking his head in disappointment at another unnecessary live action adaptation. Yoongi is by his side, munching casually on a few pieces of popcorn at a time. Hoseok bets he’s going to have none left at the rate he’s going. He should probably grab the box away from him to save some for Namjoon before they all end up in the wild depths of Yoongi’s stomach. And his cheeks, but Hoseok always favoured Yoongi’s round, soft cheekies, so maybe it’s not the end of the world if he sneakily snacks on them all. 

“I can’t believe they’re remaking Lion King,” Namjoon comments despairingly. “What, are they not raking enough profit with all the sequels in the makes? They own millions, billions , but they can’t even come up with a decent original script to bring in audiences. What, did no one warn me that creative writing was a dying concept?” 

Namjoon scoffs again. Hoseok heavily considers that Namjoon might potentially be catching a cold, although the thought alone doesn’t stop Namjoon from resuming his monologue. 

“Live actions always reflect a degree of mediocrity that puts the originals to shame, and that’s without taking the books into consideration, which, important to note, disney has completely trashed. But then, they pull a winning lottery ticket. Remember Cinderella? That one was good. Lots of wish fulfillment but still relatively nuanced.”

“Sure, I guess. Frankly, I don’t really care about the layers of complexity of live actions, I just really want to see My Little Pony,” Yoongi states matter of factly. He practically swallows three pieces of popcorn in one gulp, a wondrous feat.

“Joon, we’re not even watching a live action adaptation, you remember that right?” Hoseok adds, shaking his head like he knows what’s going on, but absolutely doesn’t. He thinks they might be watching one of those ‘animes’ that Yoongi likes to read at home, but he’s not quite sure. All he knows is that he should probably soften the brusk unfiltered words that Yoongi doesn’t always realize come out of his mouth. 

They’re good like that, all three of them, Hoseok muses, knowing how to balance out each of their positives and negatives. Giving a listening ear, speaking with honesty, softening the harshness off of the truth—it took a lot of effort to work up to that equilibrium, but even those moments of miscommunication and misunderstandings were paved with wholesome, unforgettable moments of their own.

“Yeah but I really wanted to get it out of my chest, you know,” Namjoon pouts a bit.

“We all know how much you love animated films, Namjoon-ah. You can rant all you want about shitty live actions after we’re done, I’ll be all open ears. We’re here on a mission, remember?” Yoongi says, aware of his lack of tact earlier. He hands the box to Namjoon, whose face lights up at the sight of the greasy food. 

“You love them as much as I do hyung, don’t try to make it my thing only!” Namjoon nudges Yoongi’s shoulder playfully.

“Counterpoint, I don’t lov e every animated film. Just because I enjoy My Little Pony for nostalgic reasons doesn’t mean I am dying to watch the latest pokemon.”

“Okay, first, don’t get me started on pokemon, and second, don’t even try to pretend you didn’t marathon slam dunk again thinking Hoseok and I were asleep last weekend,” Namjoon points at Yoongi with Hoseok’s straw (when did it end up in Namjoon’s hands) accusingly. 

Yoongi puts his free hand over his heart, gasping over-dramatically, “How dare you, Joon-ah, slam dunk is a masterpiece, you can’t compare that to anything . And pokemon, who? I don’t know her. I only digimon, the queen.”

Hoseok stands there watching them bicker fondly, but also somewhat confused. He doesn’t even know what’s going on or what this ‘My Little Pony’ thing is. He doesn’t know much about ‘anime,’ other than that one show—what’s it called, Spongebob?—but Yoongi loves the series they’re about to watch and Namjoon is always enthusiastic about leaving the house for pretty much anything. He loves and adores his boyfriends and will do absolutely anything for them, even if he’s out of the loop with this whole animation movie thing (at least it’s not horror, that’s a small consolation, Hoseok thanks). Case in point, he’s whipped. 

“You okay there, Hoseok-ah? You’re spacing out a bit,” Namjoon asks tenderly, placing a light hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Hoseok startles a bit, forever easily shaken up. “Hmm? Oh,” he chuckles a bit hesitantly, but communication is key for any healthy relationship so Hoseok carries on. “Well, you know how I’m a bit clueless about all…  this,” he motions his hand around the theatre, hoping to clearly emphasize ‘this.’  

They both look at him with gentle smiles, and Hoseok knows that they’re thankful for him indulging in their hobbies. He also knows they’ll never take his lack of knowledge—or lack of anything—against him, and he’s grateful to them for that too. 

“Let’s go to a dance show next time, yeah?” Yoongi suggests.

Hoseok brightens up, a cheeky grin radiating happiness all over his face. “This time, it’ll be my turn to shine. I can’t wait to make fun of you guys and your disappointingly disparate knowledge of the dance floor.”

“Hey, at least I’ve watched some contemporary ballet!” Namjoon yells indignantly, feeling particularly attacked.  

“Hm, sure, but at least Yoongi suggested actually going to a dance show,” he snaps back sassily. 

Yoongi wheezes. “What is this, roast Namjoon day or something,” he smiles wide open, revealing his gums, “count me in.” A soft boy, Hoseok thinks. Both of them.

Namjoon checks his watch absentmindedly, muttering an “Oh shit, we’re going to be late” under his breath that Yoongi and Hoseok both overhear, cackling a bit when Namjoon says they should start heading on over.

After another five minutes of accidentally going in the opposite direction, actually realizing they were going the wrong way, and heading back (they’re definitely going to be late), Hoseok sees the corners of Yoongi’s mouth tilt up slightly.

Apparently, Hoseok must be staring daggers into his face because Yoongi turns to face him with a “What? What did I do?”

“Nah, it’s nothing Yoongs. You’re currently pulling that face you do when you cross paths with a cute puppy on the streets,” Hoseok comments.

“Oh. I guess it’s also nothing, just a couple looking soft,” Yoongi says, eyeing in the direction of two guys walking the opposite way with smiles lighting up their faces.

They look adorable , like gooey marshmallows in a warm cup of hot chocolate—Hoseok wonders what sort of romantic fuzzy drama they’re going to watch together with those mushy looks on their faces. And their ridiculously expensive looking clothes. 

“Damn, is that guy sporting a Dior jacket?” Hoseok asks in awe, the appeal of money (and two hot guys with money) blindingly strong.

“They probably work for some modeling agency,” Namjoon shrugs, but also sneaks a look or two at the guys. He’s absolutely sweet but he never has been very subtle, Hoseok hides a laugh. 

They soon pass by the pair when Yoongi turns back around to glance at the couple before facing Hoseok once they’re out of earshot, pointedly meeting his eyes directly. Hoseok catches on—he noticed it too. 

“Is it just me or were they just checking Namjoon out?” Yoongi asks with a quizzical look.

“Oh my god, Yoongi-hyung please, you’re imagining things,” Namjoon giggles awkwardly, hand rubbing his neck, desperately trying to hide his flush. 

“Oh no, no no no, hyung, you’re not alone. They were definitely checking Namjoon out,” Hoseok smirks as Namjoon gets even more worked up, waving his arms desperately and almost decking Yoongi right smack in the face.

God, how Namjoon can be so oblivious to his own fantastic good looks, Hoseok will never know. At least he can appreciate those legs for what they are.

Namjoon buries his face in his hands, trying to muffle his screams as his face is on the verge of exploding with embarrassment. Yoongi side hugs him with sympathy, throwing a piece of popcorn at him which miserably lands on his forehead instead of his mouth. Hoseok almost stumbles from laughing too hard.

*               *               *

(twenty minutes later)

“Why the fuck are you still waiting with me,” Jungkook grumbles as he prepares to hand the attendant his ticket. “Don’t you have a movie to go to?”

Unlike the over the top bravado he’d witnessed not even five minutes previous, Seokjin stares back at him the slightest bit uncomfortably in front of the door marked Screen 2. 

Jungkook fixes his eyes questioningly, and somewhat impatiently, with raised eyebrows.

Seokjin gulps. “Movie? What movie? I don’t know a movie,” he says, not so subtly hiding his ticket behind him. 

Suspicious , Jungook thinks. Terribly suspicious . His instincts kick in. 

He sneaks a quick glance at the receipt in Seokjin’s hand. He can make out a “The Notebook 2D Special Event Eng - Kr sub” printed in tiny font. All of a sudden, Jungkook feels much more smug about his first encounter with the snarky young man opposite him. 

Jungkook pulls his brattiest tone, adding fuel to where he knows it really burns. “Damnnnn, is that ‘The Notebook’ on your ticket that I spy with my little eye? And you had the guts to call me a loser when there’s a whole yourself watching sappy romances too! Who’s the real loser now, huh?”

Apparently, it’s a choice tactic that appears to be super effective against Seokjin. Words incoherently fall out of his mouth, and from the corner of his eye, Jungkook notices that Seokjin’s ears are a bit more red than they were before. 

“Hahaha, who, me? A loser? Is this how you show respect to your hyung? What, did you actually think that I want to be here? ” Seokjin manages to stumble out. 

“Why else would you be here, loser- hyung ? It’s a fucking special edition re-run in the original language with subtitles, of course you’d have to know about it!” Jungkook screams.

“ Obviously not, since I’m here! It’s for, uh… It’s for a project! Didn’t have a choice! Of course I don’t want to be here, do you think I enjoy this kind of terribly scripted, cheesy, unbearable American romance? How dare you accuse me you uncultured fool! I’m a man of taste , Jungkook, of taste !” Seokjin yells back. 

“That sounds like a shoddy excuse,” Jungkook says.

“You’re a shoddy excuse!”

A pause. 

“Wow. That was a low blow hyung.”

“Oh.” Seokjin halts. “Sorry, that kind of was, I didn’t really mean that,” he apologizes, but then immediately regains his grip, “Anyways, I digress-- I know you’re using distraction tactics, but they won’t work on me Jeon Jungkook! Why are you here? Don’t tell me you also happen to have a project at the exact same time!”

“That’s bullshit, I’m here for my mom!” 

“Why in the absolute fuck would you be here for your mom?”

“Just, you know, she couldn’t go, so maybe feel the movie in her place, retranscribe my experience, write a ten page essay?” Jungkook doesn’t sound convincing even to his ears.

“Well, that’s too bad! Not everyone can be a perfect son!”

“Why does that sound like a terribly thinly veiled compliment!”

“Well maybe that’s because it is!” Seokjin strains his voice louder than before. They’re all out screaming in the movie theatre hallway now and the attendant seems kind of (completely) uncomfortable. Not like the two care enough to do something about it. 

“Is it though?! Sounds like you’re jealous of my great relationship with my mom!” 

“Excuse you, my mom and I have an excellent relationship! We’re best friends and we have wine dinners on Saturday evenings!”

“Good for you! At least I’m not plagued by terribly broad shoulders!” 

“Ha! As if! You probably have enough muscle to bench press everyone within a five meter radius of your gorgeous face!”

“You thought! At least I don’t have a face so handsome and a smile so dazzling that it melts the hearts of complete strangers!”

That finally seems to get Seokjin to shut up, his ears flaring red to the point Jungkook wonders if they’re actually burning. Ha, Jungkook one, Seokjin zero. Jungkook loves competition, but he relishes in winning much more than anything. He won this round and a strange sort of pride surges through him. It inexplicably feels like butterflies in his stomach. Huh. Whatever could that mean. 

“Yeah, thanks, I guess,” Seokjin coughs awkwardly (he kind of looks like a red lobster Jungkook thinks, cute Jungkook tries to not-think. And fails. Miserably.) “ANYWAYS BOTTOM LINE, I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!” 

“WELL I DON’T EITHER!” 

“GOOD WE CAN NOT-ENJOY BEING HERE TOGETHER!”

“SOUNDS FINE BY ME.”

They shake hands and call it a truce. A battle well fought, Jungkook nods in silence. 

He walks up to the attendant, who looks like he wants to be anywhere other than right here right now, and gives him his ticket. Wow, what kind of shit did that guy go through to make that kind of face, Jungkook wonders with a pointed look towards the dude. You , the attendant thinks—but Jungkook can’t hear that. 

Jungkook finally pushes through the red door in victory, interiorly squealing at this rare opportunity to see one of his favorite movies, second only to Titanic—not that Seokjin ever, ever , needs to hear that. He barely contains his excitement enough to stop himself from racing to his seat. They aren’t truly comfortable like at one of those more expensive theatres downtown but the shitty couch in his apartment feels subpar. (He subconsciously wonders if it resides in the fact that he was graced with the presence of a handsomely weird stranger that makes the whole room feel fuzzy). Jungkook, regardless, feels terribly accomplished once he sits down, closing his eyes with a sappy grin on his face.

The seat next to him squeaks loudly. 

Jungkook turns around, preparing himself for what he knows is about to happen, and groans. 

“Why are you sitting next to me,” Jungkook says. It’s less a question and more a statement of the obvious.

Seokjin looks back at him blankly. “What, do you think I want to?” he scoffs at that. “Who are we kidding? It wasn’t a choice, there were no other available seats.”

The room echoes with silence. Empty. 

“Hyung, we’re literally the only ones here.”

Seokjin looks around. “Wow, would you look at that. It’s quite suffocating in here. So many people,” he says, fanning his face and taking a loud sip from his drink. The tension returns. 

Jungkook crumbles a little on the inside and wonders how he’ll be able to survive this screening without Seokjin noticing him weeping throughout when he’s supposed to hate whatever happens on screen. So much for his tough act—Jungkook knows for sure he’s going to cry at the twenty minute mark. How the fuck will he survive, indeed.

Unbeknownst to him, in the seat to his right, Seokjin wonders the exact same thing. 

*               *               *

(ten minutes later)

God, is Taehyung glad that Jimin decided to watch John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum, the best movie of 2019 he concludes not even twenty minutes after the opening sequence. He has to agree, his soulmate is one tasteful man. What better way to start a romantic afternoon with a heavily violent action thriller with, and get this, Keanu Reeves? Taehyung is swooning.

It’s not something everyone gets, Taehyung supposes. Jimin surprises people like that, with his (guess what, perfectly human) duality. 

Everyone assumes that Jimin is gentle, and soft, and delicate—and well Taehyung can’t even lie and claim that he isn’t all three whenever Jimin is with him (but then again, so is Taehyung reduced to a pile of cotton candy softness and fluff within a one mile radius of his boyfriend)—when he’s the only one capable of throwing a roundhouse kick to their faces in this house and crush their belittling assumptions with his black belt in Taekwondo. Taehyung tried to throw a punch once and ended up with a broken wrist (miraculously, his pride was untouched, possibly because he never consciously prioritized maxing out his fighting stats) and leaving all self-defense technicalities to his boyfriend. 

Jimin is a complex being whose looks don’t define his personality, that goes without saying, nor his tastes, as can currently be encapsulated by a joyously cackling Jimin in awe at Keanu delivering a particular gruesome blow to some goon. Taehyung wouldn’t call that particularly hilarious, per se—the audience members in front of them confirm that, turning back with deadpan glares screaming ‘ will you please shut up ’—nor is he an aficionado for violence, but he has to say, it’s terribly badass. He’d watch Keanu destroy the hell out of anyone any given day (without even being paid, he’s that superior). That’s a title only given to a select few (Jimin obviously included—he wouldn’t miss out Jimin smashing a brick with his foot for anything in the world). 

And from the way Jimin, and himself, are staring at Keanu, Taehyung thinks it’s safe to say that everyone's a little bit in love with Keanu Reeves. If that isn’t the wisest thing Taehyung’s ever uttered since his tear-jerking, academy award winning confession to Jimin when they were ten. 

Now, Taehyung would be more keen on re-focusing on the really cool gun-fighting stuff happening in front of him were it not for an intense need to pee. His satiated hunger might have taken his mind off of things for a little while—

(Jimin coming in like his saviour, taking pity on Taehyung’s rumbling stomach and handing him the rest of his gummy worms because that’s just how kind a soul he is. Taehyung might not be religious but if asked, he would pull up his thirty thousand word dissertation on how ‘Park Jimin is an actual angel among all these unworthy humans’ that he always carries around as a usb in his wallet. Gotta be prepared for any situation, Taehyung mentally pats his back).

—but in the present moment, Must. Go. Toilet. Now. is the only thing running through his mind, kill bill sirens ringing in the background for maximum distress signals. Taehyung instinctively knows that if he doesn’t leave for the restroom right this very second he’s probably going to die. Maybe not literally but at least from embarrassment (he holds the small comfort that while it would be absolutely disgusting, Jimin wouldn’t judge him but he can’t say for sure for literally everyone else). 

So Taehyung does the most respectable thing anyone in his situation would do and whisper-yells “bathroom break!” very intensely in Jimin’s face, causing the audience (and a deeply engrossed Jimin) to stare back at him again with even nastier scowls. Rude, Taehyung thinks, it wasn’t even his fault the first time.

And so Taehyung runs. 

*               *               *

(fifteen minutes later)

Jungkook is bawling in Seokjin’s arms. 

Fuck, this movie just touches him real deep. And apparently Seokjin too, currently sobbing on Jungkook’s shoulder like there’s no tomorrow. 

He has no idea how they ended up like this, a crying mess on top of each other—his brain disconnected once the movie began—but at some point, his face soaked with ugly tears, Jungkook felt a light tap on his shoulder, turning around with a wet sniffle to see Seokjin looking at him with an empathetic look in his (also tearfilled) eyes. Jungkook has no idea what he was expecting when Seokjin sat down next to him but it sure wasn’t him extending his hand in solidarity with a near empty packet of tissues, urging Jungkook to take one. From the corner of his eye, he spots a bunch of crumpled used tissues stuffed messily in the cup holder of Seokjin’s seat.  

(“You seem like you need a bit of a clean up. There’s snot all over your face—and not to be mean or anything, but that’s kind of gross. Like actually germy disgusting.” 

“You too, loser.” 

Both of them smiled softly at that, Jungkook mumbling a quick “thanks jerk” as he quickly snatched a tissue from Seokjin’s—very, very soft, his lizard brain supplied—hand.

“Hey, you’re crying too.”

“I’m only crying so you’re not lonely.”

“What are you talking about, my eyes are sweating.”). 

Jungkook has no clue if this breaches the ‘we’re practically strangers but here I am showing you all my vulnerability which our toxic society dictates we should never reveal’ code but he’s too emotional to care.

They’re just kind of awkwardly staring at each other, no longer really paying attention to the movie, until Seokjin finally speaks up, “Hey.” Jungkook gazes back pointedly. Sure, they might not be watching whatever cheesy romance is happening on screen but that doesn’t mean Jungkook wants to be constantly distracted (even if he is kind of in the midst of ogling at Seokjin’s face in awe).

“Sorry I made fun of you for watching the Notebook earlier. And you know, just, making fun of you for messing up at the snacks counter.” Wow this sure took an awkward turn. Seokjin coughs a few times in the emptiness and continues. “Truth is, it’s my favorite movie, but I’m always too embarrassed to say it, so I kind of took it out on you. I didn’t really intend that, that was a dick move on my part,” Seokjin continues.

“It’s okay, man-- I mean, hyung. I was kinda being a sulky bitch about it too. I’m not good with crowds, and even if I completely agree that yes you were, in fact, a jerk, thanks for distracting me from my dumb brain,” Jungkook chuckles awkwardly. 

“Hey, don’t say that, you’re not the only dumb one here,” Seokjin says grabbing his hand, a move pulled straight out of Jungkook’s shoujo manga repertoire. Seokjin also looks like he was pulled out of one, a dumbass protagonist but also frustratingly adorable. 

“Yeah, I’m really, clearly not,” Jungkook says.

“Hey!” Seokjin yells, affronted.

“You said so yourself! I’m just backing up what you said,” Jungkook shrugs. “And, I guess I’m sorry, too.” 

Seokjin looks back questioningly.

“For calling you out. I’m not actually here for my mom.”

“Yeah, I think you made that kind of obvious,” Seokjin snickers a little, and then accidentally chokes on his tears. Jungkook feels a tiny bit smug (losers get what they deserve), but still pats him consolingly on his back. It comes off as more of a fierce slap. 

“And Jungkook?” Seokjin says once he recovers, face all red from his choking fit (or maybe the general embarrassment of the entire conversation? Who knows. Certainly not Jungkook).

“Yeah?”

“You’re not actually dumb, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, hyung,” Jungkook says softly, “I know. Same goes for you.”

They go back to watching the movie after wiping their tears, a bit more refreshed and clean faced. Jungkook resumes leaning on Seokjin, a fresh tissue in his hand. It’s still a bit awkward, but less so now that they’ve gotten their lame excuses and false pretenses of ‘manliness’ out of the way.

Not even ten minutes later, the pair is back to sobbing They missed a good chunk of important scenes but it’s not enough to stop the onslaught of salty water down their cheeks. Jungkook’s missed this, missed watching these terrible romantic dramas, missed enjoying his favorite movie with someone. His exes and friends all constantly poked fun at him for it, so he (reluctantly) admits it’s a nice change of pace to finally be understood. 

It’s getting to the point that Jungkook can’t see shit anymore with the amount he’s crying. The engagement is just as heartbreaking on the big screen than it is on his small monitor at home, no surprise there. He should’ve known better than forgetting his handkerchiefs in his apartment and being forced to depend on the lone tissue graciously given by his neighbour. As it stands, Jungkook can barely watch the screen without the dam holding back the water lodged in his eyes breaking apart, burying his face in Seokjin’s shoulder to try to muffle his sobs. 

By the likes of it, it seems that Seokjin’s getting somewhat tired of crying his heart out too. His shoulders silently shake, and his cheeks are so stained with wet marks Jungkook almost believes that once they’re done with the movie, they’ll have dug a canyon through Seokjin’s cheeks. 

“Okay, fuck this. This is too fucking sad. I should’ve known it would hurt more on the big screen. Do you want to get out of here?” Seokjin finally asks, with a certain gentleness uncommon of this world, brushing a loose strand of Jungkook’s mussed up hair out of his face as he pulls himself back up from Seokjin’s shoulder. 

Jungkook nods, still sobbing, wiping his tears with Seokjin’s shirt. Seokjin punches him back not even three seconds later as he realizes that there’s snot all over it. 

Jungkook looks back at Seokjin, whose eyes are twinkling a little from left-over tears. 

Moved by his poetic, otherworldly beauty, Jungkook says the most sensuous thing his brain can come up with. “Rock, paper, scissors, loser has to bridal carry the other down the hall?” 

Seokjin’s eyes twinkle again, this time not from the diamond like quality of his ghibli tears. 

“Oh, you’re on.”

*               *               *

(not even two minutes later)

After possibly breaking a world record in the 400 meter to get to the restroom—why was it so. damn. far. away—Taehyung zips up his pants a little bit out of breath but mostly relieved.

He sighs happily as he goes up to wash his hands, still sticky from all those gummy worms he mostly stole sneakily before Jimin begrudgingly (but with a heart-shattering grin nonetheless) handed him the rest to appease his hunger.  

Taehyung distantly hears the sound of running water beside him. Strange, he didn’t notice anyone next to him… although, he might’ve been a bit too hyper-focused on the task at hand than passing his greetings to the guy in the urinal next to him. His mother would be disappointed in his lack of good manners. 

“Feels good, right?”

What the?—the stranger speaks. Taehyung shifts his head slightly to find where the voice is coming from, continuing to wash his hands now fully lathered with soap.

See, on a normal day, Taehyung would smile back politely and pointedly ignore the weird remark, as his mother taught him. Or maybe he’d pull off his best model glower and hope that would do the job and scare the stranger off. But today, apparently, is not a normal day. 

Instead, Taehyung’s brain hotwires.

“Uhhh, it sure does, yeah, really enjoy… going to the bathroom,” he says in the most not-awkward tone he can muster, which sufficient to say, is still too awkward. Not smooth, Taehyung, not smooth.

He may have taken some acting classes but did acting class prepare him to be face to face with the embodiment of literal sunshine? Literal sunshine specifically wearing a sweater with ‘kisses’ bolded on the front, whom he was also definitely checking out earlier with his boyfriend? No. It absolutely did not. 

He wants a refund. 

Kisses Man laughs at him like he just told the joke of the century. “That’s funny man,” he says as he slaps Taehyung on the back, hands still a little bit damp. 

That would normally get a ‘gross’ point deduction in Taehyung’s book but Kisses Man is still grinning to himself and is now…  humming? That deserves at least ten small kisses in Taehyung’s mind. Who would’ve thought he’d meet the Kisses Man from earlier again ?

“Kisses what?” Said Kisses Man glances back in confusion, finally drying his hand with a small towel. 

Oops. Did he say just say that out loud? Mistake mistake is the first thing crossing Taehyung’s mind. Fuck he looks so cute when he’s confused is the second. 

Guess he’ll have to roll with it. For some reason, that doesn’t seem too daunting in the spur of the moment. Maybe it’s Kisses Man’s happy-i-look-like-a-sunflower-vibe thing going on putting him at ease.

“Your sweater, it’s adorable,” Taehyung nods down towards Kisses Man’s sweater as he belatedly turns off the faucet.

“Oh,” Kisses Man looks towards his own clothes and then back up to Taehyung, remnants of confusion present in his eyes although seemingly dissipating. “Thanks, my boyfriends got it for me. Your hair is gorgeous, by the way,” Kisses Man smirks slightly, although it’s clear to Taehyung that Kisses Man pretends to have never heard the compliment.

Interesting. Taehyung makes a mental note, ‘can’t take compliments’ and saves it for later (imminent) use. He doesn’t know how Kisses Man makes him feel all jittery—not the same fluttery feeling he shares with Jimin, but a feeling nonetheless. All he knows is that he wants to give Kisses Man all the kisses in the world. He’d like to think that Jimin would absolutely agree. 

“Well, Mister Sunshine, they’re very lucky men,” Taehyung smiles back pleasantly. 

“Oh please, your man seems to be quite fortunate as well,” Kisses Man says knowingly. 

Guess Taehyung and Jimin weren’t the only ones with lingering stares. 

He checks his (imaginary) watch. Ah, perfect, he’s right on time. Shameless time.

“Seems like our boyfriends are all terribly blessed. Would it be inappropriate of me to suggest that you deserve all the kisses in the world?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow as he shakes water from his hands.

Kisses Man laughs again although it’s quite obvious to Taehyung’s eyes that he’s attempting, quite poorly Taehyung must say, to mask his fluster. He tries to regain composure cracking his neck once, twice, and boy that shouldn’t sound so cool, Taehyung tells himself. 

“Knowing myself, I would say it isn’t. But, since I’ve only known you for what,” Kisses Man checks his actual watch—and an A.P. too, just who is this mysteriously hot man—and grins, “five minutes? I’d say it’s a bit rude that you didn’t even consider asking for my name first. Especially with you looking like a model gentleman and all.”

 “You’re right, my sincerest apologies,” and it’s a bit off putting how Taehyung does sound genuinely sincere right then and there. “Kim Taehyung, 1995, at your service,” he says with a low bow.

“Nice to meet you Kim Taehyung, I’m Jung Hoseok,” he extends his hand in a handshake, which Taehyung dutifully grabs.

“So, Hoseok-ssi, what about that suggestion?” Taehyung lifts his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“Well, Taehyung, I’d say nice try, but it’s mighty too early and also something I’d have to check in with my other boyfriends. Consent and all that,” Hoseok replies.

Taehyung pouts a little at that (although he’s in the same boat with his own boyfriend), pushing Hoseok to continue (to Taehyung’s great pleasure). “But in the meantime, would you care to join me and my boyfriends as I try to convince them about your wonderful self?” Hoseok’s voice jumps to a mere whisper, glancing around from side to side, and walking closer to Taehyung’s ear. “I think they’ll be easy to convince, but don’t tell them I said that.” 

Taehyung can’t stop himself from grinning ear to ear. 

“Would you care to name what you’re watching?”

“My Little Pony,” Hoseok says with a terribly wink. It makes him look absolutely dorky, and wow does Taehyung want to see more of that dumb look on Kisses Man Hoseok’s face—Jimin would love him. 

“Count me in, Hoseok-ssi, you’ve got me sold” Taehyung says.

“Perfect,” Hoseok, the unreal Kisses man, exclaims as he offers his arm to Taehyung. He faces Taehyung with another wink as he whisks him away towards the new screen.

“And please, call me hyung.” 

Taehyung wonders if this is love at first piss. Jimin would most definitely whack him for that. 

*               *               *

(ten minutes ago)

Seokjin’s brain goes into overdrive once they both manage to finally shut up as the lights dim. 

How the fucking hell did he end up here, Seokjin wonders in disbelief.  ( I don’t know, don’t ask me , his brain supplies.) 

And oh god is his seat neighbour actually crying in front of this movie? Is that happening? Shit shit shit, what does he do, Jungkook’s straight up leaning on him now. Eject? Manual eject? He l p.

At least (small mercies) Seokjin’s not the only one sobbing but fuck is this more embarassing than just one of them crying, what does he do what does he do what does he do .

What’s the code when there’s a cute dude in the seat next to yours bawling his eyes out? 

Shit, he’s actually the cutest human alive, Seokjin can’t stop himself from thinking, how does he have bunny teeth, actual bunny teeth? Is that even possible? He wants to cuddle him forever but also wipe that smug look off his face every time he opens his mouth, damn it, nobody should be that dual.

 (He absentmindedly hears a timely sneeze beside him.)

Seokjin wants to bury himself alive, maybe dig a hole all the way to Australia. He’s done fucked up, ruined his chances with a mesmerizing man. Good job trying to be funny to overcome your inability to show your emotions dumbass, now he’s going to hate you forever , Seokjin thinks, and silently wails.

It was his one shot and he used up all his chances. 

What does he even do, can he even salvage this—probably not, he’s totally done for. The fact that Jungkook is probably one of the cutest things he’s seen in his meager twenty seven years of existence does not help at all (and he’s had a dog and sugar gliders, he’s a cuteness connoisseur). The crushing mess of emotions overwhelming him right now—embarrassment, culpability, affection, denial—almost guilt him into thinking he kicked a lone puppy. How the hell does he say sorry now, least get out of this situation.

There has to be a solution here. He has a masters in acting, that has to come in handy somehow. Seokjin mulls over it again. Okay, yeah, no, that is probably not going to help but hey, he does have a masters, perhaps that ethos enough can get the handsome man next to him to hold his hand. And maybe take him to the boxing ring at the gym. Or both. Whatever. It’s not like Seokjin cares . 

(spoiler alert, he’s already starting to).

What do they do in shoujo manga? Usually the handsome friend helps the sobbing friend out. But fuck they’re both crying like losers. Losers who are proud of crying in front of other people but that’s not the fucking point here.  

Does Seokjin offer to casually hold his hand? Well shit, Jungkook’s practically holding onto him now, and he’s known him for what, half an hour? Seokjin wants to scream into an endless void—why does his body feel like it’s being ripped apart and put back together every second his gaze lingers on the man next to him? This is precisely why Seokjin doesn’t do feelings. Unnecessary. Canceled. Why does this have to happen to him? Can he even be casual at this point, he genuinely wonders? Jungkook is sobbing on his shoulder but Seokjin is also sobbing on his hair, fuck—

At this point in space-time, he doesn’t know if he’s crying because of the movie (it’s a tearjerker no matter how many times he rewatches it, evidently) or because he has absolutely no clue how to defuse the situation in his hands—perhaps it’s more accurate to say lying halfway across on his lap. 

Ok shit, just, you know what? Handing him a tissue, Seokjin can do that. That’s not awkward is it? It’s not, that’s obviously very doable. That will not make things weird. Absolutely not. That’s good. Very good. Now, if he can refrain from making a dumb joke about crying in front of the movie or snot on his face, everything will be fine , normal even. He pleads both his brain and mouth to cooperate.

“You seem like you need a bit of a clean up. There’s snot all over your face—and not to be mean or anything, but that’s kind of gross. Like actually germy disgusting.”

God fucking damn it. 

You had one (1) job Seokjin, one job . 

*               *               *

(a solid thirty-eight minutes later)

“Okay, that’s it, where the fuck are you Tae,” Jimin mutters—point, tries to mutter—with non-chalance. The thinly veiled annoyance in his voice is betrayed by a hand currently crushing the seat into a million brittle pieces. Jimin is pretty certain everyone around him is more annoyed at his display of annoyance, judging from the fine sets of furrowed eyebrows, and okay, fine, maybe they didn’t ask for loud neighbors, but Jimin sure as hell didn’t pay twelve thousand won for his boyfriend to go missing thirty minutes after going to the bathroom. He loves Taehyung, loves him with all his giant (if he can say so himself) heart can muster, but not even the deepest, once-in-a-thousand year soulmate bonds can stop Jimin from being slightly pissed at his soulmate for mysteriously dissolving into thin air. He’s only human after all—no matter what Taehyung’s thirty page dissertation says.

It’s just one trip to the bathroom, it can’t possibly take that long, Jimin sighs. He’s this close to an existential crisis.

But what if he’s taking a dump, his brain helpfully supplies. Jimin pauses and considers. 

No no no. That can’t possibly be it. He’s his soulmate, for goodness sake. He would know that. 

Jimin stares back at his dimly lit phone screen, flashing his ten unread messages back at him, mocking. He turns his eyes back to the movie with a look of longing. He doesn’t want to do this to Keanu, but his dumb soulmate demands his full attention. It’s a tough decision to make and an even tougher sacrifice, but ultimately a necessary one. It hurts his dignity that he has to miss out on this masterpiece and publicly humiliate himself by shuffling in front of at least a dozen seats, muttering insincere ‘sorry’s and ‘can you move your feet please’s—oh, the things he will do for Taehyung. 

I’ll come back for you, he whispers with his right arm extended towards Keanu, currently snapping necks left and right on the screen. It may be a goodbye, but it’s not forever, he thinks to himself, half-heartedly attempting to cheer up amidst this desolate situation he was forced into. Jimin steps out of the theatre wiping a non-existing unshed tear from his eyes with a handkerchief. 

He rings Taehyung’s phone number a few times to no avail, then proceeds to check each and every men’s bathroom stall in the theatre. Still no sight of the lost soulmate. 

With Taehyung still out of sight after browsing through the final restrooms, Jimin’s panic begins to rise with his brain immediately engaging with all the worst scenarios possible—was he sucked into a toilet stall? You never know with modern technology. Was he kidnapped—Taehyung never took up his offers to join his taekwondo classes, he wouldn’t be able to fight off danger, would he? Does that mean Jimin is indirectly responsible for his best friend slash boyfriend slash forever soulmate’s immature death if he’d insisted on—

Stop, he tells himself. Deep breaths, Jimin inhales and then exhales deeply. Don’t think about things that have an almost zero probability of happening. Relax. Taehyung most likely just went out to buy snacks or wandered off somewhere close. He’s an adult, he can and will handle it if anything goes wrong.  

Jimin closes his eyes, splashes a bit of water from the sink onto his face (he’s not going to think about how gross that is until later when Mission: Find Taehyung is complete), styles his now slightly damp hair quickly (he still has fashion standards to maintain) and steps out with less unwarranted concern and more confidence. Taehyung will be fine. He’ll call if he needs help. 

In the meantime, Jimin’s best bet at finding Taehyung would be returning to Keanu. That’s quite ingenious, how come he didn’t think of it before? 

Just as he peeks his head through the restroom door, he is graced with an approaching clunky obtrusively large thing from a distance. As his eyes adjust, Jimin realizes that it is less of a clunky, monstrous looking thing and rather two grown men carrying each other, what, bridal style? Two very handsome grown men, Jimin decides, doing who knows what in a movie theatre. Jimin would most definitely be checking them out were it not for the absurdity of the situation. Despite popular belief, he doesn’t have the energy to be a flirt twenty four-seven like Taehyung does. It certainly doesn’t help that the very second they make eye contact with Jimin, they halt mid-step. 

What. 

The absolute fuck. 

Is going on. 

What alternate reality is he living in? In what world do two adult men waltz around a cinema as if they stepped right out of a disney princess movie terrorizing little kids and Jimin? Jimin likes to think that he would never experience Enchanted or Rooftop Prince in his timeline, and staring at the pair unabashedly staring at him, he wonders if that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe they’re searching for a missing Joseon prince? Who happens to look exactly like Jimin? Again, wishful thinking. 

He squints and recognizes the muscular guy. Jimin has to acquiesce that he would look cute and harmless if it weren’t for the fact that a full grown man with shoulders twice his size is currently snuggled in his arms. And are those dried tear tracks on their faces? 

Jimin, ever the gentleman, promptly asks, “Aren’t you that guy who asked for a ticket at the concession stand?” He mentally pats himself on the back for not saying loser. Politeness comes first.

The pair blink. They’re still carrying each other and Jimin is still absolutely confused. They look very comfortable with one another, Jimin remarks, trying to find a way to alleviate imminent awkwardness. Funny, he would have thought that ticket-guy had come alone.

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” Jimin says but it ends up more or less as a question rather than a statement. 

The pair blink again. He wonders in the back of his mind if he failed to defuse tension. But instead of the blank lines of confusion spreading further throughout their faces, they break down into crazed laughter.

“Oh my god,” the broader one wheezes. Above him, ticket-guy is cackling so hard he absent-mindedly loosens his grip, dropping broad-shoulders square on his butt. For a split second, Jimin wonders—read, hopes—if they have regained sanity. 

Broad shoulders raises one of his fingers from where he lies sprawled on the ground, completely out of breath and equally out of it. “One moment please,” he barely wheezes out. 

This (the uncontrollable cackling) continues for about three more minutes or so and with each passing second, Jimin is beginning to grow concerned for these two poor men’s state of health. Jimin usually qualifies himself as nice and courteous, but there’s being polite and there’s calling 119 to report unusual psychological instability. It’s kind of—who the hell is he kidding, it’s absolutely—weird, out right confusing, and at the same time, Jimin feels something flying around in his stomach. (Were the gummies expired?)

Finally ticket-guy who, clearly, is still trying to keep his quasi-maniacal laughing under control but evidently fails, speaks out. “Oh no, sorry, it’s just,” he chokes on what Jimin expects to be tears of laughter, “we’re basically strangers. We met not even two hours ago.”

“But then I made fun of him, we played rock paper scissors, and now we’re planning a spring wedding,” broad-shoulders tacks on. He then turns to face Jimin and says with a dashing smile fit for magazine covers, “You’re absolutely welcome to join too.” 

Is it really supposed to go in that order, is the first thing Jimin thinks. 

What.

The fuck.

Is going on.

is the next. 

He just met them minutes ago. Is this a normal thing strangers do nowadays? Jimin has been with Taehyung for so long now that he ignores the ‘courting rituals’ popular with young adults nowadays. All he had to do was blink once with his left eye with Taehyung when they were seven and they knew . Simple and efficient. Being soulmates sure has it perks. Now, Jimin is left wondering if these two strangers are actually in the midst of engaging in one of these novel ‘courting rituals’ with him right outside a cinema restroom. He can only list two times weirder than whatever this is in his short twenty three years—and yes, for anybody who asks, they both involved Taehyung.

On the flip side, the more vulnerable part of his mind considers that they’re simply ridiculing him, as part of a mean prank on innocent strangers, but the sincere, dumb, almost shit-eating grins on their faces suggest otherwise. 

“Um, excuse me?” is the only thing Jimin’s mind can conjure up.

“Oh sorry—god, that was incredibly rude of us to forego introductions before suggesting anything else,” broad-shoulders crawls back to a standing position—again, Jimin thinks, why are names the problem here. “I’m Kim Seokjin, and the awkward muscled bunny baby here is Jeon Jungkook,” Seokjin says waving jazz hands towards the newly named Jungkook, who retaliates by punching Seokjin right in his abdomen. Ouch. 

“Shut up, hyung. You have no right to defame me like this! I’ll call my lawyer! I can sue for slander!”

“Ha! Let’s do it baby I know the law!” Seokjin retorts from where he is still partly keeled over, a hand over his brutalized stomach. “Bet you don’t even have the money for a lawyer!”

“What do you know, huh? Maybe I’m actually a millionaire singer or something! You don’t know those kinds of things about my life!”

“Yeah, as if. I’ll place my bets on the ‘or something’ JK.”

“JK? Oh, are we doing nicknames now? I can’t believe I let myself cry on your lap—” “—Well I can’t believe I had the generosity to hand you my tissues!”

Jimin has no idea what to say. He feels kind of left out, in all sincerity, although he has zero interest in joining in, either. They look like they’re at each other’s throats in the softest way possible, Jimin watches with awe. He almost feels like he’s intruding on something precious when Seokjin and Jungkook both turn to face him in tandem, whatever bickering taking place put on hold, disgustingly mushy smiles washing over their beautiful faces simultaneously. He doesn’t even know them.

Do people that dumb and fearless of complete strangers (and not to mention, horrendously charming) really exist? Did their parents never teach them about stranger-danger? (Although technically, he’s the one breaking those rules, Jimin belatedly realizes. His mom would be ripping hair out of her scalp by the handful if she knew.) 

The corners of Jimin’s lips curl slightly at these two idiot-strangers who, all things considered, asked, no matter how jokingly, his hand in… marriage? Which isn’t even legal here, unless they want to elope to Taiwan? They sure know how to flirt, and apparently rip each other’s throats out, and possibly limbs. It’s wondrous how they, too, were complete strangers before entering the theatre—they look like they’ve been together for a whole minimum of five years. Jimin knows it doesn’t feel the same as the instant connection he had with Taehyung (that stuff is rare , once every thousand years, fairy tale material), but it certainly doesn’t negate all the fuzzies in his heart right now. And Jimin doesn’t regularly feel fuzzy for strangers. Ever.

Taehyung would love them. Wait, would he love them too because whatever Taehyung loves, he loves, holy shi—

Sadly, Jimin’s epiphany is interrupted by a newcomer blatantly clearing his throat outside of the closest screening door. The man in question looks so small and absolutely adorable, peeking his head out the door, his eyebrows scrunched up questioningly in what is supposed to be disinterest but comes across as the squishiest facial expression. A cat. He looks like a cat, Jimin decides. Apparently the other two must think so as well because they look as thoroughly smitten by cat-man.

“Are you guys going to keep making noise out here or are you going to join in?” cat-man asks. 

Oh. An invitation.

Seokjin and Jungkook glance at each other quickly before shrugging and moving past cat-man inside the screen room. 

Cat-man must be waiting for him to react because he raises an eyebrow, “Pink hair, huh? If you’re waiting for your soulmate, just know that he’s inside currently flirting with my two other boyfriends.” 

Typical Taehyung, Jimin smiles, relieved to finally know that his boyfriend is safe and sound, and seemingly on his way to add a few more boyfriends to the list. 

As he nods in response, he belatedly realizes that cat-man was one of the three guys they were checking out earlier. 

What a small world, he thinks to himself with a grin, moving past cat-man to enter the room. 

The more the merrier.

*               *               *

(approximately an hour later)

“Damn, that was better than anything I had in mind—really beat my expectations out of the ballpark,” Taehyung says, taking a final sip and throwing his drink into the nearest recycling bin—is it even his? Probably not, but… Who cares? Certainly not the six other guys who ended up in the same screen room now walking out the theatre together. If he squints, it almost looks like they’re all holding hands. 

“Yeah, frankly? That was probably the best movie I’ve seen in years, and I’ve seen every film directed by Park Chan-wook,” Jimin says.

“Who would’ve thought My Little Pony could explore something as profound as a metaphorical concept about the inevitability of mortality?” Taehyung continues.

“I know right? The character development and quality of screenwriting has been expanding exponentially in the past five years, which has by far led to a very rewarding movie going experience,” Yoongi jumps in as Namjoon nods along contemplatively to his right. 

Jimin looks towards the two with slight disbelief, “Honestly, I didn’t expect you guys to like this particular genre.” Jimin motions to the trio Taehyung had easily gotten acquainted with. “No offense but, you do kind of look straight out of mean girls.”

Namjoon faces Jimin with an inquisitive squint. “Mean girls?” 

“What’s that?” Hoseok asks, pointedly even more puzzled.  Beside them, Yoongi tries to not break down into laughter and barely holds it back in. 

“An american masterpiece that’s what,” Jungkook replies with an air of grand wisdom almost reminiscent of a sage wizard in a fantasy rpg. 

Yoongi seems to apparently recover from whatever was making him crack up interiorly and directs eye contact towards Seokjin and Jungkook. 

“Were you guys crying or something? Your eyes look like shit.”

The pair then proceed to choke on thin air. 

“Crying? Hahaha, who, we? No, just… sweaty eyes, you know how that goes, hahaha” Seokjin responds just at the same time as Jungkook says “American sappy romances man.”

Seokjin glares at Jungkook with a look of betrayal painting a ‘ how dare you I thought we were friends ’ on his face, to which Jungkook fixes back with a glare probably communicating something along the lines of ‘ friends? I thought we were openly wooing each other— ’

Yoongi interrupts the staring contest. “You guys like those? Fuck, the coincidences keep piling up-- I love that shit, feed that to me any day please.”

The pair twist their necks so fast that an emergency trip to the hospital to check for whiplash wouldn’t be unwarranted.

“No way, you too?”  

Yoongi grins back with a gummy smile, probably the gummiest of smiles in all of existence. How is he real, they all marvel.

As the three proceed to melt over badly directed American romances, Hoseok taps on Jimin’s shoulder, whispering with a hand next to the smaller man’s ear, “You know, they were also crying when the grandfather pony was murdered.” Jimin twinkles fondly at that. “But we can keep that to ourselves for a little while,” Hoseok adds with a wink as he quickly jogs up to catch up to the trio engrossed in their conversation and free Namjoon from their terribly niche and ecstatic enthusiasm, leaving Jimin behind with Taehyung.

“So,” Jimin says as he turns towards his soulmate, “a little bird told me you were flirting with the kisses man we were checking out earlier.

“Hey! I’m not the one who picked up two very handsome strangers. At least you still have your game,” Taehyung smirks.

“Well, if I remember correctly said kisses man has two boyfriends who, last I saw when I entered the room, were swooning all over you,” Jimin points out with a victorious smile but then fixes Taehyung with a colder look. “And anyways, how dare you, of course I still have game bitch, I’m not your soulmate for nothing.” He then proceeds to dramatically sway into Taehyung’s arms. “I still can’t believe you got whisked away by a total stranger—I can’t believe you ditched me,” Jimin whines.

“Well, not ‘total’ stranger, remember when we checked them out—”

“Oh my god, that’s not the point TaeTae. I don’t know if I should feel offended that you would dare leave John Wick and your soulmate or proud that you managed to get this guy to disney prince the hell out of you.” 

“I will say that I feel a little mussed about missing out on Keanu, but you can’t deny, that My Little Pony stuff was good ,” Taehyung says.

Jimin acquiesces with a huff, “Okay, I admit, I was surprised by the complexity of the plot. Did I expect the grandmother to betray them like that? No, that shit took me by surprise.” 

“Hey, Taehyung and Jimin, right? Are you guys going to stay behind or do you want to join us?” Namjoon interrupts them with a yell from the front. 

“Sorry, hyung!” Taehyung and Jimin grin back. 

As they catch up, Hoseok steps aside to let them join the small new group.

“Oh yeah, we asked the sappy duo over there already but what were you guys watching?” Yoongi asks with an arm around Hoseok, consciously omitting to group himself with Seokjin and Jungkook. Closet sap.

“Who, us? Oh just the latest installment of John Wick,” Jimin replies, beaming.

From the side, Jungkook whispers to Seokjin, “Is that the one where the puppy dies?”

“Oh no, that one? I gotta be honest with you, I lost it during that scene,” Seokjin whispers back.

“Shit, you too? I was crying so much I had to pause the movie, then proceeded to curl into a ball, and wept for an hour.”

“Same, what are the chances.”

“Now that I think about it, I never actually finished the movie,” Jungkook ponders.

“Wow me neither.”

“Hey are you guys talking about John Wick? I love that series,” Namjoon pops in suddenly. 

“Hahaha, john who-the-what now? Never heard of it. Is that some Amercian steak? Can you eat it?”

The rest of the group gaze back at them, a bit perplexed, a lot more exasperatedly enamored.

Taehyung mumbles a ‘What goes on man’ while Hoseok shrugs it off casually, patting him on the shoulder—he’s used to being clueless in the face of random antics and niche conversations. 

“You guys are wild,” Namjoon laughs, a little embarrassed. 

“You guys are cute,” Yoongi corrects as he pushes Namjoon gently, a tinier smile gracing his round face but all the more fond. 

Seokjin’s ears turn bright red while Jungkook proceeds to whack his head repeatedly on a nearby table near the exit, but not before his eyes blow up twice their size. 

Like Yoongi said, cute. Little did Yoongi know, the six other men were looking at him with the exact same thought. If Yoongi strained his ear just a tad more, he would overhear a ‘do do do, there goes a cutie,’ but as it is he’s too busy being surprisingly smitten with this little (large) new group made in one screening, or, well, in their case, three.

It’s weird. It shouldn’t feel like something closer than family—they’ve known each other for, what, less than two hours, for goodness’ sake. 

The more rational part of Yoongi’s brain churns over the absurdity of it all, how it should realistically be impossible to form such a connection with only one first impression—that shit only happens in movies. The softer and sappier part, undoubtedly the stronger half of Yoongi’s reasoning, however, can only be mesmerized with wonder at the possibility of something real, of something terribly concrete and full of opportunities burgeoning near the exit hall of a movie theater in the middle of Seoul. It’s surreal in all the best ways.

It’s not love yet. Not even remotely close. But it could be.

Yoongi can tell from Namjoon’s excited jittering and Hoseok’s million watt smile lighting up the whole block that none of them truly want to leave. And from the looks of it, these newfound friends either. Although ‘friends’ might be too stark a word for all their flirting and Yoongi’s intrusive thoughts of handholding entertained constantly throughout their interactions. 

So Yoongi musters his adrenaline induced courage and asks (because he knows his two dumbass boyfriends are either too metaphorical or absolute shit at demanding what they want), “I don’t really know how to phrase this but, since whatever is going on right now seems to be, well, quite mutual and strangely amazing, dare I say, I was wondering if you all wanted to go out, together, all seven of us?”

Everyone stops in their tracks. Taehyung bumps his head against the glass exit door, Namjoon jumping to his side with a warm rub in solidarity. 

“Like, on a date?” Jimin asks, bewildered.

“Yeah, like on a date.”

Hoseok is the first one to meet Yoongi’s eyes, pointedly fixing him with a calculating stare. Yoongi stops breathing for a second, two, three—before Hoseok breaks out with a grin he’s never yet seen illuminating his boyfriend’s gorgeous face, yelling “Holy shit hyung you’re a genius!” before launching himself into his arms. 

Jimin and Taehyung engage in a silent telepathic conversation before matching their smiles in agreement with Hoseok. Seokjin and Jungkook both shift from tomato to a beet red, and it would be absolutely hilarious were it not for the fact that Yoongi was proposing a very grandiose and borderline ludicrous idea. They seem to get over it quickly though as they both start punching and hugging each other before proceeding to tackle Yoongi.

“Hoseok is right, you’re a real Einstein here Yoongi,” Seokjin says while squeezing Yoongi to his premature death. 

“Damn, I did not expect coming to the movies today like a single pringle and coming back out with a date with who I’d like to claim are probably the six hottest men in Korea right now,” Jungkook sighs, mesmerized, also holding Yoongi in what possibly constitutes a chokehold.

Yoongi turns his head to make eye contact with Namjoon, who still hasn’t said anything yet. Needless to say, he didn’t really have to voice anything—it’s crystal clear from his happy dimples and crinkled eyes that he’s completely a go for Yoongi’s impromptu decision. 

“It’s a date,” Taehyung jumps, high-fiving Namjoon as Jungkook holds the theatre door open for all of them to pass through. 

“Nice. How about now?” Hoseok smirks. 

“Wow, someone’s impatient,” Jimin comments, although he himself can barely hide his own childlike glee. 

Hoseok coughs. “I mean, if no one has some previous commitments to attend to, of course.”

Obviously, everyone shakes their heads. What is there better to do than attend a seven way date with some of the most wild, beautiful complex people in town? To be more than near strangers at a theatre?

“I feel terrible romanced,” Jungkook says.

Seokjin nudges his shoulder with brute force, not so discreetly wiping a joyful tear off his face as they all crackle up in laughter.

“So, now that we’ve settled this, where to?” 

“Is anyone here a foodie? I’ve only ever eaten out like twice in this city, and one of them was Lotteria and that doesn’t count.”

“I know a perfectly good sushi place near Seokchon Lake.”

“The one near the small cafe? Man, I love that place. Their special sashimi platter is exquisite .”

“I see you’re a man of culture as well.”

“Oh my god will all of you stop with the memes.”

“Out of all people, I would’ve expected you to appreciate my intellectual references. Sorry, it’s written in the contract ‘I can only speak meme.’ Maybe you should’ve read the fine print before signing it.”

“I’m Jungkook, 19, and I never learned how to read.”

The laughter echoes as they walk off into the sunset, like in a good old cliché western. Except this isn’t a western and these seven men are out there about to live their best life. It’s more than the dream.  

Fin.