Chapter Text
Jimin: 28 years old, South Korean citizen for 3 years.
Sometimes, he misses it. The snowy mountains during winter, the burst of starlight during nights left with nothing but kerosene lamps. The stench of coal and the horn of the morning routines. The nights in Seoul were often noisy and bright, blinding him even years beyond his journey. He still wakes at five in the morning. He is still yet to own a phone better than the standard-issued one he got three years ago.
It was during these moments that he longs to live somewhere away from this bustling city, to a portion of the nation he now calls home that is more quiet and not as quick. He still remembers the unending confusion, the embarrassment in finding himself akin to a child in a city so vibrant, so boisterous, that it's so overwhelming--
"Jimin-ssi?" A voice from the doorway of his meek standard-issued, one-bedroom apartment startled him out of his thoughts. He could hear the rustling of shoes being left in the doorway, a jacket being hung behind the door as it closed subtly. Jimin walked towards the doorway of the bedroom, watching his visitor in silence. "Why are the lights out?"
"I...forgot to turn them on," he admits in embarrassment, head hung low and bottom lip caught in his teeth. "I-I'm sorry, Jungkook-ssi--"
"Hey, hey," Jungkook chuckled and strode over to him, his smiling face a sight as he angled Jimin's face towards his, calloused hands caressing his face. Jimin could feel Jungkook's breath against his own, could see every detail of his face despite the darkness, and he startled as lips lightly descended on his own before he realized that this is fine, this is okay, he is no longer in danger for being who he is, for loving another man--
"It's okay, Jimin-ssi," Jungkook pressed his forehead against Jimin's, eyes closed and lips still so close. "I got you."
Jimin nodded his head and let the younger man pull him close, appreciating his delicate touch. Jungkook had always been careful and observant, patient and understanding, sensitive in ways Jimin couldn't even comprehend. Sometimes, being with Jungkook makes him forget the realities he faced for the first twenty-five years of his life and that scares him at the same time that it placates him.
"Jin-hyung wanted us to come over for dinner," Jungkook caressed one last time before making his way towards the bedroom. "Are you up for it?"
Sometimes, Jimin forgets the details of his previous life. Admittedly, he could never be one of those who came out on the media--some even wrote books--for he could no longer find it in himself to re-trace the memories that made the most of his existence. Yet, he remembers various points in his life--he remembers the ice-cold river water against his skin as he crossed the border, remembers traversing on foot towards Senyang, remembers the smell of smuggled onions that buried him for days, as he discreetly moved himself towards Shanghai, remembers the terror of flying all the way to Seoul.
"Yes," he responded, his voice lilting with a light Hyesan accent that he tries so hard to tone down yet fails to do so. "I-I do miss them."
Jungkook smiles and whips out his phone--it is one of those newer models, all screen and no buttons, and Jimin watches as the light envelops Jungkook's face amidst the darkness.
"I'll let them know we're coming," Jungkook pushed his haid back and kissed him on the forehead, making him stiffen. Three years worth of affection and it still surprises him. "Wear something warm."
Jimin could hear Jungkook as he stepped back towards their small kitchenette, the soft sounds of grocery being unwrapped easily heard in their tiny apartment. Jimin wrapped a scarf around his bare neck, a wool one so battered that he would've dared thrown it away if it not only reminded him of his brother, his family, his country. The pine scent was still present amidst the coal, the onions, and the strong detergent and sometimes, Jimin wills away the thoughts that he may have been only making up the scents.
He could see Jungkook in the soft darkness, his face illuminated by the bluish tinge of their refrigerator light. The soft glow lights up his face so elegantly that Jimin felt his chest constricting. It reminded him of those first days, filled with self-doubt and realizations, concepts upturning his life and identity so fully that he couldn't even dare comprehend up until now.
Jungkook looked at him and smiled, blissfully unaware.
"Are you ready?"
Jimin nodded and buried his face on his scarf, appreciating how the younger man chose not to say anything. If he noticed Jimin wearing the same scarf he wore for months--the same scarf from Hyesan, half frozen in his swim across Yalu River, the sole source of warmth as he walked past Changdian and headed straight to Senyang, to Shanghai, to Seoul--he didn't say anything.
And as the cold Seoul breeze hit his exposed cheeks and warm leathered hands found his, Jimin thinks that despite missing the snowy peaks of his home country, finding Jeon Jungkook has strengthened his belief that he made the right choice to live away from it.