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Jungkook stares at his broken reflection in the mirror, his long black hair cascading in his face, and pretty fallen flowers resting on his shoulder. His mouth is red, lipstick staining his chin, where he tried to wipe it away with his sleeve. His eyes are rimmed with the same crimson color, golden speckles still shining in his irises.
He did it; he said no.
The whole village stared at him, expectant and sure to hear only one word from his docile mouth. But he shook his head and left them there. His mother and father ran after him, all eyes pointed on his back, his name on every mouth, his hair swaying in the wind as he took off his shoes and held his dress up to keep from tripping as he escaped.
He didn’t go far, but no one dared approach him.
“He can’t have him, please.” The torn voice is sharp, deafening, echoing in his mind like a never-closing wound. It was whispered lightly in the dark, not meant for him to hear.
Jimin was the only person he thought he knew better than he knew himself, yet Jungkook had never heard such raw pain in his voice. Not even once, during all the nights he had held him in his arms, caressing his silky hair as he cried and cried.
An omega rarely declines a courting proposal. Even when they’re not interested, all the omegas of his village love to be spoiled and never give up on a chance to change their mind.
Kim Namjoon was the alpha you’d accept a courting gift from without hesitation, while the rest of the village stared at you longingly, cursing you and wishing to be in your place. Jungkook was pleased to have caught his attention, too. But then he heard Jimin's words, and he wished he were invisible and undesirable.
“I love him, I love him so much, and he’ll never know.”
But what hurt the most? The pain in his voice or the things he was saying?
The sad smell of Jimin's salty tears, overpowering his lavender scent, has haunted his lungs since then. The confused realization that Jimin didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth, yet spoke so freely to whoever listened that night, haunts him.
Jungkook's simple white dress is stained with dirt and grass, and traces of the night.
Hiding in Taehyung’s room won’t save him for long.
He does not know what he’s doing and why he’s doing it.
He hopes he didn’t break Namjoon’s heart, too. His own heart is still pounding too fast, and he fights hard to settle his breathing.
What will he do now?
There will be no repercussions for him, only people’s whispering and theories. He must have a reason, all of them will say. They’ll look for every bit of truth, point fingers, and hate him for daring to do something that was his right.
But he would have traded it all for Jimin, wouldn’t he? His honor, his makeshift happiness, the alpha courting him. He doesn’t care. Jungkook selfishly wants to erase any memory of Jimin’s suffering from his mind. He just needs him to have everything he wants, everything he needs to smile.
There’s a soft knock on the door. It’s barely audible, but so jarring in his silence and loneliness. It’s not Taehyung; the beta wouldn't have announced himself, and only one person would have come here to find him.
The lavender scent is thick and calming when Jungkook opens the door for him, especially as Jimin's arms enclose him in a tight hug, his soft nose pressing on his neck in search of the quiet fragrance of lilies on his skin. ungkook wants to caress his hair, settle against the rhythm of his chest, but he doesn’t move, his hands insecure and freezing.
“I was so scared for you,” Jimin mumbles, raising on his tiptoes as he steps back, holding Jungkook’s face between his small, clean hands. “You just started running; you seemed terrified.”
Jimin doesn’t look so miserable anymore. His face is clean and pretty as every day, his hair tied in a long, perfect braid, resting on his slender shoulder. His dress is not as white or as long as Jungkook’s, but there’s a delicate embroidery on the front, a pretty lavender flower on his chest. Jungkook wants to trace it, feel the warmth of his body.
Maybe for comfort, maybe for more.
Jimin’s lips furrow when he says nothing, and Jungkook realizes what his eyes are staring at.
He squeezes them shut.
“I was just confused,” he admits, holding Jimin’s hands in his and putting some distance between them.“It was my first courting ceremony, and...” His throat dries, and his eyes shift, unwilling to look at Jimin’s reaction. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Jimin found him incomprehensible and strange, too.“I’m not sure I want another.” Then he lets the shoe drop, the tension too high in his throat, the noise too loud in his head, and the only soul that would understand him just a few steps in front of him.“I don’t think I want an alpha.”
The silence is not heavy; their breaths are soft and attuned. Jungkook dares to meet Jimin’s eyes: they are not judgmental, surprised, or disgusted. He blinks slowly. He is surprised to find fear in them, and something else, too. Jimin's fingers trace the scar on his cheek, like he fears there will be more on his skin if he decides to be alone. “But don’t you need one? One that will take care of you?”
“I can take care of myself, and... I have you, don't I?” It’s selfish—oh so selfish—to expect another omega to take care of you as someone else should. Jimin has an alpha he already loves, doesn't he? That’s what started the tumult in his mind. And Jimin is kind, perfect, the person you wish for yourself to keep forever. Jungkook’s glinting grin is not enough to make his trembling words sound like a joke.
Jimin’s next intake of breath is sharp, his eyes lighting up in golden and blue.
“You do.” He says it so softly, his head turning away. The delicate lights of the candles in the room play tricks on his beautiful profile. For a moment, Jungkook sees tears shining on his skin, running down before his fingers can wipe them away. He sees resignation in Jimin’s pretty eyes, his gorgeous smile wobbling horribly on his face. “Do you even realize what you’re asking me for?”
The question stings, salty and desperate like Jimin’s tears. Does he realize?
Does he realize why he said no to Namjoon, too?
Jungkook’s always been a spoiled child, hasn’t he? And Jimin has always been powerless in front of his doe eyes. That’s what he’d always tell him when Jungkook would ask him for anything.
Jimin was older than him, just two years more, but that was enough for Jungkook to always look up to him, seeing the sun in his eyes, the light in his smile.
Before he could even learn how to speak a proper sentence, he was already hanging from Jimin’s fragile arms, which looked so strong and powerful to him, ready to protect him.
The whole village cooed over them, their parents whispered about their soon-to-be status, and they were all waiting for them to court each other. Each time he kissed Jimin’s chubby cheeks and announced to the world they were going to be mates, the adults giggled and caressed his hair.
But when Jungkook writhed and cried desperately in his bed, his face streaked with tears, his slick running down his thighs, and his omega scent luring every alpha to his doorstep, the voices quieted down.
The memories stopped being amusing.
Still, Jungkook called for Jimin’s name that day. He begged for his cool hands to caress his face, pet his hair, and rest on his burning forehead. He pleaded for him to be close, holding him in his arms, pressing delicate kisses on his cheeks to calm his tears. His intense lavender scent was the only one that could settle his breathing. But then, it ended, and they both pretended Jimin wasn’t ready to give him anything he might have demanded.
Jungkook can’t answer Jimin’s question truthfully. He doesn’t even know himself what he’s asking, or what he really wishes he could have from him.
Or, he knows, but he can’t say it out loud without breaking whatever fragile equilibrium is keeping them together. His head is pounding louder than his heart.
He sighs, his eyes pointed at his bare feet and the wooden floor, focusing on the distance between them. It feels stiff and awkward. “Yeah, it’s childish, I know. You can’t always be mine, Jiminie hyung… there’s someone out there hoping to mate you.”
Jimin doesn’t tell him that many alphas in the village would want Jungkook as a mate, too, and Jungkook’s trembling heart is grateful for that. He would have to lie if he did, nod and wear a strained smile, ignoring whatever was about to happen in this room.
“I feel there’s so much you aren’t telling me, Jungkook,” Jimin murmurs, voice sad and broken, but not as much as it was last night. Jungkook is reminded of his aching heart, of the only valid reason he couldn’t accept a simple gift tonight. It’s not only selfishness. Or at least, he hopes it isn’t.
“You, too. You could have told me you loved him. I’d have let none of them arrange this ceremony.”
The confusion blooming on Jimin’s face seems genuine, his brows furrowing and mouth parting. Jungkook wonders if he didn’t mishear the other night, if there’s something he’s missing in this whole narrative.
“What makes you think I love him?” He didn’t think the assumption could irk the other omega so much. The pinch between his eyebrows and his suddenly dull eyes are a tell-tale sign: Jungkook must have said the wrong thing, must have painted the picture out of line, with different shades. But he’s too stubborn to step back.
“I heard you last night, in front of the bonfire. I was behind all of you, but my scent was too faint, and you didn’t see me.” He sounds more distraught than he feels, or perhaps he’s too full of thoughts and emotion to process how much he’s hurting. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop. “You could have told me. I thought you trusted me. I would have let him court me, and that would have broken your heart, but you still let me.” His last words are wet, accusing, and destructive for himself, and he doesn’t get it.
“You’re sure that this is what would have broken my heart, Jungkook?” The question is posed softly, Jimin's eyes kind and his fingers caressing the back of Jungkook's hands, but it’s just as cutting. It’s a twinge in the back of his head, pulsing and white with pain. He’s tired of not understanding, or is he pretending not to?
“I thought you told me everything, as much as I do.” It’s a desperate plea, his hands clasped together, heart pounding erratically, and with no sense of direction. “I don’t want to hear you sound so broken ever again.”
“Jungkook.” The word is solemn; it quiets all the pitiful noises he wasn’t aware he was making.“Why are you so upset and afraid?”
Jungkook hesitates, trembling softly in the warm hold of Jimin’s eyes. “The real reason,” Jimin whispers, “No lies.”
"I can’t stand the thought of you being so hurt,” Jungkook tells him readily, no doubt about it, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, shoulder hunched and nose dragging against his scent gland for comfort, lipstick staining Jimin’s clavicles. He kisses his skin softly. “Especially if it’s my fault.”
“And?” Jimin prompts softly, his small fingers anchoring in his long hair, his breath itching for his lips, or waiting for an answer.
The words are already on his tongue, tasting of selfishness and desire, possessive and irrational. They beg to be let out, to shatter the silence of their hearts; they put roots in his mind. He can never lie to him. He can hide from himself but not from him.
“You should love me, me and no one else.” He whispers, his voice not brave enough to say it louder, his teeth almost biting his tongue at the admission. He’s boneless, his eyes shut tight, and Jimin’s hands never leave his body. Jungkook senses Jimin's heartbeat against his warm skin, rhythmless and confused as he is.
The kisses start slowly, like a soft drizzle pattering on his skin. Jimin’s plush lips press on his head, on his temples, and the side of his face that he can reach; they linger on his jaw, on the side of his neck. Jungkook shivers at their innocence, at the pure and soft desire in his mouth.
Jimin’s teeth graze his neck, and they tease a bite, a sweet sting on his skin that goes by too fast.
Jungkook’s hands tense on his soft hips, and then they surrender, gripping his flesh, dragging him impossibly close to his body, erasing any distance and space between them.
It’s a soft epiphany, slow and not earth-shattering. It’s like finally being able to see the stars behind thick clouds; being aware of them shining is different from witnessing their light. It’s not red and burning but a warm golden light, encompassing him whole. “Because it’s always been you and me, and I love you too much to give up on it.”
And they could be his last words, because Jimin now has his whole life in his hands, his aching heart in his delicate palm, too. And the omega could shatter it, with just one word or a simple gesture, and Jungkook wouldn’t blame him for it.
His love is out there in the open, so easily readable on his reddened cheeks and desperately hopeful smile, not hidden in his glass closet for everyone to see and mistake for something else.
There’s no more space to hide, no more chances to hide his blushing face in the crook of Jimin’s neck when his heart can't handle his feelings.
Jimin knows now, and by the look on his face, some part of him always knew.
“But I already do,” he says simply, vulnerable and gorgeous as he caresses his face, tears shining in his eyes. Jungkook breathes in a heavy sigh, wet and content; an incredulous little giggle escapes his mouth, all his desperation dissipating from his limbs.
“And if you do, too, you won’t ever see me being as terrified and hurt as I was last night.”
"So.” He rests his head against Jimin’s forehead, his fingers playing with his beautiful braid, shivering from joy and infatuation, his other hand splayed on his back. There’s no reason to give up, then.” Jimin shakes his head fervently. His smile is tender but mischievous under his fragility, so endearing and beautiful, his soft cheek pressed on Jungkook’s palm.“It’s always going to be me and you,” he adds, bumping his nose against him softly, breathing in his air.
And then he forgets if there was something else he wanted to say, or if there were any reasons they had waited so much just to be there, kissing slowly, lips tentative and wanting, fighting their smiles and tears, hands putting each other back together to the last piece, their scent mingling as if they never meant to be apart.
He still does not know what he’ll do, or what they all say, but he doesn’t have to dwell on it as Jimin’s warm mouth opens for him, and he tastes him on his tongue.
Not when Jimin loves him and only him.