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“Sherbet?” Taehyung frowned at the screen and took a bite of his chip.
“Wait,” Jimin said, hand fumbling over the screen, “I’m gay.”
Taehyung would have said something if he hadn’t still been chewing on the crisp honey butter chip, made with real honey. Admittedly, he wouldn’t have said anything comforting. More like, what does that have to do with Sherbet, or, get your hand off the screen, or, why are you shoving me into the corner of the couch when there’s clearly a good three Jimins worth of space on the other side of you. But even before he could swallow the crisp honey butter chip, made with real honey, Jimin had hit him on the arm with all the force of a kitten sensing catnip.
“Shh,” Jimin hissed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“He’s looking over here.” Jimin twisted his head. “Don’t look, but the guy over there.” Taehyung, of course, swiveled his head immediately.
“That’s Jungkook.” The dark T-shirt and clunky boots couldn’t have screamed his identity more. Jungkook, standing at the side of the food table with a red solo cup, seemed to be sneaking glances over to their couch. At Taehyung’s obvious stare, he shuffled closer to the tablecloth and began sorting the chip bags by color.
“You know him?” Jimin now stared, ravenous. “How?”
“Same gym class. He’s got good reps.”
“You have to introduce me.”
“For the good reps?”
“If you do, I’ll make dinner this week. Next week. I’ll stop texting you as your dog.”
“That’s you?”
“He’s coming over,” Jimin whispered. “Act natural.”
“Why wouldn’t I hi Jungkook.” Taehyung assumed a natural pose, hand slung over his knee, back bent at 38 degree angle, Switch casually dangling onto the couch. Jimin sat up straight, his knuckles growing pale gripping Taehyung’s knee.
“Hey,” Jungkook said, rubbing his neck.
“Good afternoon,” Jimin said at nine in the evening.
“Good party,” Taehyung said. “It’s really snappening.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook gave a shy smile, eyes darting over Jimin for a vibration of a millisecond. “It’s nice to see someone I know.”
“Same. This is my friend, Jimin. Jimin, Jungkook. Jungkook, Jimin.”
“Hey,” Jimin said.
“Hey,” Jungkook said.
“Really snappening,” Taehyung said.
“What are-” Jungkook started at the same time as Jimin said, “This is-” They both laughed. Taehyung ate another chip. He could almost recognize the lyrics of the song. Ba dump dump dump. Dum. Beautiful lyrics that captured the essence of music.
“You go first-”
“No, you should-”
“Please, go ahead-”
“No, no-”
“Jimin was showing me his Switch,” Taehyung said. “He’s playing Animal Crossed.”
“Wow,” Jungkook said. “I have one, too. We should – play sometime.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” Jimin beamed. In the corner of the room, someone shouted, ‘Jungkook, come over here!’ and a similar chorus followed. Jungkook turned to give a partial wave, mostly halting the deluge of drunken pleading.
“I should go,” Jungkook said. “But it was nice meeting you, Jimin.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Jimin sighed and buried his face into his hands, missing the part where Jungkook dragged his feet over the carpet and kept glancing behind him, even after reaching the gaming table.
“I’m so gay,” Jimin whispered into his hands.
“Oh,” Taehyung said, staring at the goat villager. “His name’s actually Sherb.”
--
The trouble already began the next morning. Jimin pestered him while he brushed his teeth (“I dunno, he does cardio, we don’t talk in class”), through breakfast (“He wants the gains, probably”), all the way to where Taehyung was slipping on his shoes (“The same sweat as anybody else?”).
“What’s he like?” Jimin stared, wide-opened innocent eyes. “With his shirt off?”
“Like a guy with his shirt off.”
“I’ll even take the aura. No descriptions. Aura.” Jimin held onto Taehyung’s jacket. Taehyung resigned himself to staring at the front door, trying to summon up any imagery except the peeling green paint on his locker and the tangled purple towel in the corner.
“Like a fresh spring breeze,” he lied.
“I knew it,” Jimin whispered.
The trouble continued in the evening, after he finished the class and packed up his bag. He swung his locker door closed only to see Jungkook looming behind it, big doe eyes staring into his soul.
“Hey,” Jungkook said.
“What’s up,” Taehyung said, striking a natural 45 degree lean on his locker to show he wasn’t scared.
“There’s a coffee shop,” Jungkook said, “hosting a good jazz band tomorrow night.”
“I love jazz.”
“Sure. And you could. Invite a friend.”
“I think Jimin drinks coffee-”
“Yeah sure him if you want.” Jungkook stared deeper into his soul. Taehyung wanted to apologize for something. Anything. He’d never shoplifted as a kid and didn’t jaywalk. He did, however, listen to music for a suspiciously long amount of time in music shops. He would apologize for that and hope he would be forgiven, escaping from where Jungkook had his mouth slightly open and eyes very open, luminescent light directly above him.
“Sorry,” Jungkook said. “You don’t have to go. Just, do you believe in destiny?”
“The League of Legends esport team?” Taehyung shifted to a 46 degree angle. “Sure, they’re good.”
“No, just regular destiny.”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“I think I believe in destiny.” Jungkook rubbed his neck, half-turning away. “Or I have, since last night.”
“That’s great,” Taehyung said, honestly. “I just got a hangover from last night.”
“It’s The Coffee Bean, starts at eight.” Jungkook smiled, innocent and pure. “See you there.”
--
It really was good jazz. Taehyung sat back with his hot chocolate, the decadent marshmallow melting into a fluff layer. He sat at the opening of the curved pleather seating, Jimin jammed next to him but somehow still draped over the table to listen to Jungkook talk.
“Some people say it’s ‘to smooth,’” Jungkook said, “since ‘ob’ is ‘over’ and ‘levi’ is ‘smooth.’ But, I don’t know. From smoothing to forgetfulness, that’s a leap, right?”
“Absolutely,” Jimin said, grinning against his hand.
“That’s why I think ‘oblivious’ is so interesting. It’s not the best work I’ve done, though.”
“Yeah? What’s your best work?”
“I once had to translate this old book,” Jungkook said, “and we couldn’t figure out why the characters did a, I guess, a ritualistic powdering. Because that wasn’t a ritual. Turns out, an earlier draft talked about the horse hay in the room and they were just dusting themselves off. It was obvious after that.”
“Super duper obvious,” Jimin said. “You’re so smart. Isn’t he so smart, Taehyung?”
“Real smart.”
“It’s not rocket science or anything,” Jungkook said, ears tinged red. “But I like translating.”
“Not rocket science. That’s hilarious.” Jimin laughed and nudged Taehyung in the shins. “Isn’t he hilarious?”
“Real one in a million.”
“So what do you do?” Jungkook asked.
“Me? I work for KARI.” Jimin, while never leaving Taehyung’s side, had somehow managed to warmly rub at Jungkook’s arm. Taehyung was only watching out of the corner of his eye, but he could already tell that Jimin was feeling very appreciative of what was sculpted beneath Jungkook’s jacket. Jungkook seemed quite pleased as he sipped his coffee, the heat making his nose scrunch.
“Sorry, I don’t know her,” Jungkook said, eyes darting to where Jimin’s hand now rested on his shoulder, and then focusing on a painting of three dogs playing godori.
“You’re really the best,” Jimin said reverentially.
“No, he really doesn’t know her,” Taehyung said. “K-A-R-I. Space place. Jimin’s a rocket scientist.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jungkook smiled. A fluttering note attracted Jimin’s attention momentarily, leaving only Taehyung to witness how wide Jungkook’s eyes got while he sipped his coffee. When Jimin looked back, Jungkook smiled pleasantly.
“I’ll get one more refill,” Taehyung said, “and then we should be heading home.”
“Wait, I’ll do it.” Jimin wiggled from his seat, the cunning edge of his eye clearly saying he would be filling Taehyung’s mug to the brink to keep in the coffee shop. Taehyung didn’t argue, he was enjoying himself. Good music, good food, good company.
“You and Jimin,” Jungkook said, in a questioning tone, at Jimin’s receding steps.
“Live together,” Taehyung said. “He’s got early work tomorrow, so.”
“Right.” Jungkook nodded, now staring at the table. “Live together.”
“My work’s later. I’m a model,” Taehyung explained over his shoulder, still focused on the band. Jimin returned with the cup full of hot chocolate, handling the mug onto the table.
“I can see that. You’re very handsome.”
“Thanks.”
“Really handsome. You have a nice face. I can see why – people like it.” Jungkook studied him, eyebrows downturned, and then grabbed his mug. “I’ll get a refill too.”
“What did you guys talk about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook had left the table.
“Dunno. Pretty much what you heard.”
“You really are handsome,” Jimin said, full of adoration. A thought seemed to occur to him, which dimmed the light in his eyes slightly. “You’re the most handsome, pure, wonderful person I know.”
“Did you break something?”
“No, just.” Jimin slumped back into the seat. “He looks at you a lot, doesn’t he?”
“An average amount.”
“I mean, if I saw you across the room at a party, I’d want to talk to you, too.” Jimin touched his hand. “I should have known. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”
“They manage okay.”
Jungkook returned to his seat. They sat together, absorbing the wonderful music. Taehyung closed his eyes to hear the saxophone better, listening to the way the low notes felt in his bones. When he opened his eyes, he saw them both glance away, caught staring at Taehyung in a sad malarky melancholy.
“What,” Taehyung said. “I like the music.”
--
Then things got weird(er). Taehyung knocked on Jimin’s door. Jimin opened the door, hoodie drawn up and hands shoving into his pockets.
“Hey,” Jimin said.
“Don’t hey me.” Taehyung shoved his phone into Jimin’s face, scrolling down an infinite amount of ‘mung mong’ and ‘Taehyung feed me’ and ‘when you have the time, let’s discuss what consciousness and perception truly means to you such as within Kant’s categorical imperative and also please take me out on walkies.’
“You’re bragging that your dog texts you.” Jimin shuffled back to his bed, where he plopped down face-first.
“I know he’s not texting me. My dog doesn’t have thumbs, Jimin.” Taehyung jammed his phone back into his pocket. “I checked.”
“He’s a smart dog.”
“Well.” Taehyung frowned. “Never mind. What are you doing?”
“I’m wallowing.”
“You’re listening to dubstep.”
“That’s my wallowing music.” Jimin pulled the blanket over himself, wrapping him into a sad burrito. “Let me have this.”
“Why are you wallowing?” Taehyung sat at the edge of the bed. The sad burrito sat in sad silence, then took a long sigh.
“Have you ever wanted something,” Jimin said, “so much it hurts.”
“Yeah. Food.”
“It’s so beautiful. Like cherry blossoms in the wind. Everything you could dream. You want it so bad.” The sad burrito turned over. “But you can’t have it. Because it wants something else.”
“You lost me,” Taehyung said. “If you’re hungry, just eat.”
“You’re my best friend,” Jimin said, sitting up. “For seven years, you’ve been my bestest friend.”
“Haven’t we known each other for five years?”
“So you can tell me the truth.” Jimin planted a hand on his chest, which, under the blankets, only looked like he wiggled around. “What do you think about Jungkook?”
“He’s nice?”
“Do you like him?” Jimin looked at him, the very expression of a caterpillar in distress.
“Sure. He’s nice.” Taehyung shrugged. “If I like him, I like him for you.” At that, Jimin shed his sad blankets and emerged a butterfly in comfortable loose-fitting sleepwear. He took Taehyung’s hands into his, tenderly.
“Thank you,” Jimin said. “I want the best for you.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “Wanna eat?”
--
Jimin had insisted that Taehyung show Jungkook his modeling photos. It’ll make Jungkook very impressed, he said, looking like a wisp of smoke above his bowl of soggy cereal.
“So,” Taehyung said. “That’s a ring.”
“Cool,” Jungkook said.
“It’s Bulgari. Gold, probably. Or not.” Taehyung had a stack of his photos, courtesy of Jimin, but showing them in the locker room would have been weird. Instead, they sat outside on a park bench, looking at photos of bracelets and rings in a not weird way.
“Pretty,” Jungkook supplied. “Are you looking for rings for Jimin?”
“No, he buys his own,” Taehyung said. “These are my modeling photos.”
“Oh.” Jungkook squinted at the fingers. “You’re a hand model?”
“The finest.” That was arguable. The hand modeling industry actually had fierce competition. Taehyung just happened to stumble into the hand modeling world due to his sheer talent and genius for hand modeling, but he was acutely aware of his role of a challenger to the realm of champions. Those above him soaked their hands in natural essences and moisturizing gels, never dried their hands at all, only demurely blotting them on towels, and carried around their own soaps. Certainly, he was a newcomer to the industry, but he knew he had what it took to be the best.
“That’s really cool,” Jungkook said. The brightness dimmed, though, and he sighed into the wind. “You two are goals.”
“Me and Jimin?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook stared at the park’s horizon, where a child tripped and promptly ate dirt.
“We’ve been best friends for nine years.”
“You’re good for each other,” Jungkook said firmly.
“We’re okay. Except when he walks my dog,” Taehyung added. “Sometimes he’ll let my dog walk him instead and gets lost.”
“That’s cute.”
“That’s a taxi ride.”
Jungkook laughed, but he looked like a puppy who had tried to jump on a new toy ball and had been rebounded. His hair wafted in the smooth waves, rebuffed by the world. His chiseled jaw, his expressive eyes, all gazed at the wind-touched trees. Taehyung cleared his throat.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Jungkook smiled softly. “I was thinking. Fate works in mysterious ways.”
“The VTuber from Hololive?”
“No, just regular fate.”
“I find it easier to live in the moment,” Taehyung said. “Not thinking too much. Complicates things.”
“That’s wonderful.” Jungkook stared woefully into the park. The wobbly horse ride stared back at him.
“I know what will cheer you two up,” Taehyung said suddenly. “Why don’t you come over? We’ll play games.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Jungkook said, wide-eyed.
“I didn’t have plans. Jimin’ll figure something out.”
“If you’re sure,” Jungkook said slowly, “that I won’t get in between you two.”
“We’d just be watching TV.”
“I think that’s beautiful,” Jungkook said. “It’s the small moments that make up who we are and what we are to each other. It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, 120%,” Taehyung said. “And we can even play Super Smash Bros if you'll let me main Kirby.”
--
Jungkook came over at promptly seven, which made Taehyung suspect that he had been lingering outside their apartment since 6:30 and staring at his watch until the precise second. In the spirit of bringing a bow of burning gold of those ancient times, he had brought a modest cabernet.
“It’s a great place,” Jungkook said.
“I was told it was vintage,” Taehyung said. “Which means the faucet drips.”
Jimin was still dishing out the rice, but casually smiled at Jungkook as if he hadn’t spent hours trying on different clothes until Taehyung gave his opinion (“it’s fine”) and even though he protested he had only wanted to look presentable, he still elaborated between his shirts (“they’re fine”) until he finally laughed to himself and looked at Taehyung and said he wouldn’t want to get in the way, anyway (“it’s fine”).
“Your hair looks nice,” Jimin said, offering Jungkook a seat. “Haircut?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook brushed at his hair, smiling when Jimin turned away. When spotting Taehyung, though, he bit back his smile and straightened his back.
“Taehyung made the soup,” Jimin said. “Isn’t he great?”
“The soup’s really good,” Jungkook said. “Thanks for inviting me, Taehyung.”
“He’s always like that. Puts himself ahead of others.”
“I can see it. A really thoughtful spirit.”
Taehyung was being complimented, but he had his suspicions. The radish soup he had made really was good, though. A few sips warmed him up. Jimin reached over for a dish at the same time as Jungkook, their hands brushing against each other. Jimin almost leapt back, chair rocking, and Jungkook jerked his hand towards himself like he’d been burned. More for him, then, so Taehyung swept in and helped himself to the kimchi.
They did put on a few games on the TV. Eventually Taehyung was playing single-player in the middle of the couch, Jungkook on his right, Jimin on his left, talking behind him.
“The etymology of love is interesting,” Jungkook was saying, “but I like looking at the synonyms.”
“Yeah?” Jimin leaned on the back of the couch, leg draped over Taehyung’s knee.
“Is this boring?”
“I argued about space toothpaste all day,” Jimin said. “And I was the one who asked you about love.”
“Did you, now.” Jungkook’s voice grew light and fond.
“I did,” Jimin said, laughter in his voice. “So teach me about love.”
“To care. To devote. To cherish. A person or an abstract. Friend or lover. To fall in love, to be in love with. Platonic, romantic.” The silence that followed told Taehyung something was going on, but he was too busy being a winner to pay attention to that.
“You’ve thought a lot.” Jimin, breathy.
“I’ve had to. Recently.” Jungkook, energetic.
“For a job?”
“No.”
A longer silence. Picking Pikachu was an excellent option. Taehyung’s small character on the screen bobbed around, spinning in the air.
“Taehyung’s been my best friend for eleven years,” Jimin said.
“That’s a lot of years.”
“I thought I would always put his happiness over mine.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I don’t. Just, when I saw you, it was like opening a window that I hadn’t known closed. I never knew the wind could feel so nice, that flowers could smell so beautiful. But when I think about Taehyung and your feelings-”
“I could never get in the way of what you and Taehyung have-”
“Roommates just share the lease, that’s all,” Taehyung said. His interruption must have shocked them. He hadn’t thought he’d been eavesdropping, since Jimin was still on him and Jungkook’s arm was leaning against his shoulders, but perhaps he should have let them have their privacy.
“Roommates?” Jungkook echoed.
“Yeah. It’s cheaper.”
“I don’t know, I just thought. I don’t know.”
“It’s because you keep looking at Jimin,” Taehyung said. Just looking around the apartment made it obvious they were roommates. They had two separate bedrooms, two sides of the bookshelves dedicated to them. The dog fur covering the entirety of the apartment might have hidden this, but even now, he was playing on Jimin’s Switch on a dock that was covered with only Jimin’s glow-in-the-dark joke stickers he’d gotten as a holiday gift. He switched the games out, idly browsing through the screens. “Why didn’t anybody tell me it was actually Animal Cross-ing?”
“You’re looking at me? Even though Taehyung is so – Taehyung?”
“Maybe,” Jungkook said, shy, and then, bold. “Yeah. I like looking at you.”
“Really?”
“The moment I saw you across the room, it was destiny. I knew I was fated to meet you.”
“Why? How?”
“I don’t know. I just knew. It was fate. It was meant to be. I had to get your name, or anything, from you. I couldn’t stop watching how charming you are.”
“So you’re going to keep looking at me?”
“Yeah. Until you make me stop.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Maybe something that shuts me up.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. Maybe I’ll do something like that.”
Taehyung tilted his back far enough to see that Jungkook and Jimin had started kissing, soft with their hands on each other. Taehyung had fortunately slid down from the sofa, freeing himself from their grasps, so resumed back to where he was playing on Jimin’s island. The avatar wandered around until he found himself face-to-face with a familiar-looking peaceful goat.
“Never mind, you’re right,” he told the air. “I do see how I can look like Sherb.”