Work Text:
“Don’t tell me you invited him of all people — Park Jimin you little shit!”
“Woah now,” Jimin huffed, eyebrow perking up naturally as he created a space between him and Jungkook in fear of what his friend may actually do to him if he got too close, “the invitation specially mentioned all teams that participated in today’s finale games — therefore, Seokjin’s team is invited. Your fault for not reading the invite properly you dumbass,” he kidded, slapping his empty paper plate against Jungkook’s head before turning around to scoop a handful of potato chips onto it.
But if he was being completely honest, Jungkook couldn’t give two shits if Seokjin’s team was “technically invited” — like hell he cared. The fact that Jimin, knowing fully well of the two’s rivalry and clear distaste for each other, still invited them without zero hesitancy itched under his skin and bothered him dearly, like his best friend of all people wouldn’t even dare ask him if he’d be comfortable with this initial idea.
Eyebrows furrowed together annoyingly, Jungkook narrowed his eyes and bit down on his lower lip, harshly yanking Jimin over towards him by his hoodie.
“But you didn’t even tell me ahead of time! I was planning on drinking my feelings away with fruit punch, not suffering from jin-itis!” He scolded quietly under his breath, making sure to pull Jimin close to him so that there was barely three inches separating their noses.
You know, for safety measures and all in case Seokjin or one or his fellow teammates decided to tune in to their lovely conversation.
But Jimin only shrugged, unbothered by it all as told clearly by the small smirk curling at the edge of his lips, “Sounds like a you problem to me. Anyways, I’m gonna go find Taehyung and —”
“Oh nooooo you’re not,” Jungkook spoke wickedly, suddenly unclenching Jimin’s hoodie and grabbing onto the boy’s wrist instead as he pulled them both away from the party’s main crowd, “you got me into this mess, so you’re staying with me the whole time to make sure we don’t run into he-who-shall-not-be-named.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, barely believing that this man had time to pull out a Harry Potter pun while also blaming him for this existential crisis he was having.
“You said his name earlier.”
“I don’t care, his name reminds me of dog shit.”
Jimin rose an eyebrow, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and shove his friend off the ends of the earth, “You’re being ridiculous. You guys are eighteen, why are you still caught up on some little rivalry from like grammar school?”
Jungkook didn’t answer, only keeping his lips sealed shut and eyes pierced forwards with determination clawing at every twitch.
Why you may ask? Well, that answer was one that he was too scared to answer himself.
If he was being completely honest, Jungkook didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he and Seokjin — a rival teammate on the other school’s soccer team — continued this enmity between them despite it going on for the last six years, all formed at first from childish nature and immaturity that they just couldn’t keep under wraps due to their young age.
And the universe granted them many chances to renew themselves to; to make up and mend those broken seams before they would only continue to rip and tear helplessly.
Maybe they were still childish and immature at heart, sure, but Jungkook knew the real reason behind these foolish facades he and Seokjin had fought to keep up ever since middle school.
Because you would think that after attending separate high schools and everything that they surely would’ve forgotten about this little seventh grade feud by now, left and abandoned in the dust with the rest of their lost hopes and discarded dreams.
But when freshman year came along and they spotted one another across the soccer field, strawberry painted cheeks and sparkling eyes glowing slight beneath the summer’s sunbeams, that’s when they knew — they had no choice but to play a big game of pretend just to conceal it all.
Possibly for the fact that they’d rather not be outed to friends and family who weren’t aware of their sexualities, but also for the rich denial in their hearts and shield of stubbornness that had no plans on backing down anytime soon.
Leaving them here, four years later, fear still beating passionately against their chests along to the same rhythm of their heart’s melodic and desperate cries to get ahold of its greatest desires.
Noting his friend’s silence, Jimin stopped in his tracks abruptly, causing Jungkook to turn his head around perplexingly as to why he did so.
“Koo, you’re giving me the silent treatment. What’s going on?” Jimin spoke softly, thumb delicately running over the top of Jungkook’s hand as their eyes locked tenderly.
And whether Jungkook wanted to believe it or not, the choked up frustration and messy cobweb of tears begging to grace the world with its conjured up desolation told him enough; told him that it was better to tell a friend than have him suffering alone.
So he batted his head away, not wanting to bear the sight of his friend’s pitiful looks or risk the fall of tears that was sure to come down by now if he wasn’t careful enough.
“You know exactly what’s going on,” he whispered back, breath clinging onto the last wisps of acceptance he’d ever expose outwardly towards the world ever again — already feeling a deep shame to reside within in heart.
And Jimin did. Jungkook didn’t have to tell him, he didn’t have to share that big groundbreaking secret during a game of two truths and a lie at a sleepover, he didn’t have to do a grande reveal for Jimin to know exactly what kind of heartache he was facing.
And as Jimin carefully wallowed up Jungkook in a warm, comforting hug with his friend’s head burrowing deep into his shoulder, Jimin sneakily caught Seokjin’s attention from across the room and motioned him over with his two fingers — to which he followed with slight confusion, but followed nonetheless.
After all the two had known each other since middle school, they were no strangers to each other and weren’t on bad terms like how Jungkook was.
Plus, Jimin didn’t exactly need strong bonds to make things right — and technically, he was just following Jungkook’s request.
So after waiting for Seokjin to creep on over, black hair messily (yet cutely) disheveled and soccer jersey sweatshirt hanging over his slender, fit figure, Jimin slowly squirmed himself out of the hug and backed a few feet away.
But Jungkook wasn’t having it, the sudden rush of cold air biting at the hairs of his neck and trembling fingers didn’t exactly help his moping session — and all he wanted was more hugs from Jimin.
“Hey come back h—”
And that’s when he suddenly felt a tapping on his shoulder, fingers skidding along his rugby polo and sending chills down his spine; ones that he recognized too easily.
Because in just a span of two seconds or less, he had forgotten about Jimin, not having the energy to care whether he ran off to find Taehyung (another cute soccer player that Jimin just so happened to have the hots for) or not, especially when he could tell whose fingers those were just by a simple touch.
His theory only proved to be true when he turned around on the backs of his tennis shoe heels, eyes widening and heart rambunctiously banging against the walls of his chest — begging for an escape after being locked up and constrained for so long.
Jungkook quickly lifted his fists and rubbed his eyes, making sure that he wasn’t just hallucinating an awfully realistic portrayal of his rival right in front of him, or painting an apparition with his sleep-deprived mind.
But no, it was real. Seokjin was really there, looking as charming as ever even after playing out in the sun for hours just that afternoon — whether Jungkook wanted to admit it or not, he looked good.
He always did.
A honeyed tan seeped through his skin, amplifying that beautiful melanin skin tone that Jungkook knew and loved, never able to get enough of just how ravishing and prince like Seokjin really was.
Perhaps he really was an Angel that fell from the gates of heaven, or a fallen Angel perhaps since that title seemed awfully fitting for their situation.
But alas, Jungkook wouldn’t let himself slip up that easily, nor give Seokjin the benefit of the doubt or even dare to submit to the Devil just like how Seokjin wanted him to.
He made that pledge to himself long ago, and wasn’t planning on letting Seokjin break his streak that easily.
So Jungkook quickly plastered on a scorn, remembering that Seokjin beat them at their season’s final game which let alone made his false, cover-up plaque of anger melt into a sincere River of pure rage.
“What do you want?” He demanded roughly, protectively crossing both arms across his chest to fend himself from any of Cupid’s arrows that may come his way, just like they’ve been coming his way for the past six or so years now.
You, Seokjin thought to himself, a bashful smile blooming into his lips as he slowly edged closer towards Jungkook, keeping a safe distance between them as to not make him uncomfortable.
“I just wanted to pop by a say hello, maybe wish you a good game. You fought well out their JK, you always do,” he beamed, playfully ruffling up Jungkook’s hazelnut wavy brown locks — while Jungkook, shamefully enough, subtly enjoying the feeling of Seokjin’s fingers massaging against his scalp.
But of course he would never admit that, not even on his deathbed for say.
But hell to the fucking god, Jungkook despised the way his heart sped up at that cute little nickname that left those beautiful, plump lips of his — he hated it, and would rather burn that feeling to the ground then ravish in it.
“I’m sure you’re ecstatic about it,” Jungkook sneered sarcastically in return, squirming out from underneath Seokjin’s terrorizing hand, “is that the only reason you came? To brag in my face and remind me that my team lost? Because if so, then you’ve overstayed your visit.”
For a second, Seokjin looked startled; stars dispersing from his eyes and cheeks flushing at the remark.
But after really soaking in the thought for a moment, he remembered why he was here, and remembered that now, as seniors and now that their last game was over and done with, they didn’t have to keep up this stupid rivalry anymore.
It was done, and as long as Jungkook felt the same way (which he was very confident in himself of) then Seokjin was more than determined to claim Jungkook’s heart as his and soar high into the sky with it.
“Well,” he spoke up, clearing his throat and whipping Jungkook’s head up towards him sharply, “we’re seniors now. The seasons over, and were never gonna play against each other again. So what’s the point in pretending we hate each other when we both know damn well that ain’t the truth.”
Jungkook froze, heart staggering in his chest, body stiffening, eyes blinking rapidly and the loud chatter from the background fading in and out of his heads with only the songs of angel’s harps to replace them.
Maybe Seokjin meant that in a friendly way, he could just be overthinking things. Was it foolish of him to assume what he’s been secretly anticipating for since day one? Was he just trapped in this endless cycle of false hope and expectations?
Was he just setting himself up for heartbreak by automatically assuming that Seokjin’s statement had romantic undertones?
But at that moment, at that moment that Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open and shut and Seokjin gradually edged closer and closer towards him; eyes clearly trained on none other than his lips, Jungkook just knew in his gut that he meant exactly what he thought he did.
“D-does this mean—?”
“— Yes,” Seokjin laughed, throwing his head back cheerfully before locking gazes with Jungkook once more and tucking a strand behind his ear.
And he continued.
“I like you, and — I have a feeling you like me too. So let’s just, forget about all of this as cheesy as it sounds and shake on it, as friends, yeah?”
Jungkook raised an amusing eyebrow, lending out a hand as Seokjin shook it sturdily, taking note how they both leaned closer and closer towards each other with every minute stalled.
“Yeah, as friends.”
“Right, friends. And, as friends, is it cool if we kiss? You know, as —”
“Friends,” Jungkook chuckled, finishing off his sentence for him before letting his eyes fall shut and make that final destination towards his awaited fantasy, “yeah, it’s cool, you shithead.”
Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head from side to side before leaning down and lifting Jungkook’s chin up with one finger, speaking softly with their lips only two inches apart.
“I could say the same to you, fucker.”
And with that, with his finger delicately grazing the bottom of Jungkook’s chin and and other arm curling tightly around Jungkook’s waist, Seokjin slowly connected their lips — two ends of Cupid’s journey conjoining in harmony, confirming their hearts as one.
Even if Jungkook struggled to admit it at first, after having to go through years and years of continuous denial and internalized hatred towards himself for it, he finally came to accept that maybe 5’10 soccer players with jet black hair and a charming smile were cute after all, despite their petty determination to make everything a competition.
But perhaps that was part of the journey, and perhaps that’s what their fates confirmed them with; to withstand against people they barely had the patience to usually put up with but still did because they knew that in their hearts, they were the right ones for them.
Even as Seokjin, minutes later (yes, they were still kissing minutes later) lifted Jungkook up and wrapped his legs around his waist, going back in with even more passion than before, and even as Jungkook interchanged his arm positions all throughout it between Seokjin’s hair and around his neck, they were still warped in an endless cycle of love, with long forgotten enmity to rest just outside of it and to never be welcomed back again.
Poor Taehyung and Jimin through, just two other guys who wanted to enjoy their peaceful time together at a house party now had to watch their friends have a lousy make out session right in front of them — how inconsiderate.
“Damn, now I kinda regret bringing Seokjin over there,” Jimin sighed, shaking his head with a red plastic cup in hand.
Taehyung snorted, sparing a highly regretful glance towards them before turning back to Jimin and grabbing his hand excitedly, “Forget about them, how about we play some Mario Cart with Felix and Hongjoong, yeah?”
Instantly taking a liking to this idea, Jimin rose an eyebrow challengingly, a smirk blooming into his lips as he let Taehyung lead him into the living room where the rest of their teammates were, “Okay, you’re on! Whoever loses has to drink fifteen cups of Jungkook and Seokjin’s leftover cu—”
“Ummm that won’t be happening,” Taehyung grimaced, shooing off the horrid imagery that just popped into his head, “I was thinking whoever wins gets to choose a date location.”
“Oh? Well alright, I like the sound of that much better,” Jimin laughed, blushing vividly as Taehyung’s hand clasped slightly tighter around his own.
With game room in hindsight and just a couple moments away from victory, Taehyung quickly turned around and swiftly placed a kiss onto Jimin’s cheek before whispering, “Knew you would, now c’mon.”
Ignoring the sounds of his own heart and the slight lightheadedness he was feeling, Jimin quickly slapped himself out of it and reasoned that he could save his daydreaming for later that night.
Plus, he didn’t want to miss out on choosing to take Taehyung on a date during cherry blossom season, now did he?
Nor did he want to witness anymore of Jungkook and Seokjin’s messy make out session — which surely should’ve been taken to the rooms by now seeing as he swore he heard literal groans coming from the main room.
Yeah, he didn’t want to witness anymore of that.
But on the other side of the more hyped up crowd of the party, Jungkook and Seokjin only continued to reminisce in the feeling of each other’s lips; not planning on separating anytime soon — and with the sole goal of staying glued together as long as possible.
Well, that was certainly attained with the way Seokjin pinned Jungkook (gently) against the wall and started lightly grinding on him to obtain as much friction as possible.
“Ah J-Jin fuck,” Jungkook whimpered helplessly, loosely rubbing his hips in return against Seokjin’s groin area as his lips sloppily attached and detached from places all around Seokjin’s face — not having a direct target in mind, but just with the sole aim of decorating his skin with as many love blossoms as possible.
Seokjin smirked, lightly pressing his own dick against Jungkook’s, “Shh, wouldn’t want the others to hear now would we,” he whispered teasingly, nipping at Jungkook’s earlobe to hear those beautiful sounds he had grown to love dearly.
“God, t-then maybe you should think twice before making out with a guy with a monster sized dick you asshat,” Jungkook rasped, briefly separating himself from Seokjin before dragging them both into an isolated, secluded room where he was sure no one would find them.
And that’s when Seokjin’s eyes suddenly landed on a cushioned couch, a playful tint gleaming inside them.
So with one sly movement, he gently picked Jungkook up and placed him on the couch before crawling on top of him; fingers playing with the hem of his button polo.
“Is that so?” He purred quietly, lips ghosting over Jungkook’s inaudible ones — ones that begged to scream and holler as much as his heart’s delight.
But he had no choice, he only swallowed down those urges before nodding and slamming their lips together once more, squirming beneath Seokjin’s body to feel those sparks — god those sparks — to spread a fire inside him.
And spread a fire inside him it did.
Two childhood rivals, lips messily revolting against each other’s out of competitive habit, now fully embraced in their greatest heart’s desires — ones that they grew to oppose, but ones they learned to love.
And that is the story of how two soccer players fell in love, or came to admit their long overdue concessions that just needed a little push to bring them here — rejoicing to the fullest.