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You can do this by yourself.
Jimin repeats this to himself over and over again, after one of the most stressful dance practices of his life, the one right before the big big day.
When he first stepped onto the campus of one of the most prestigious ballet academies in South Korea, he knew that this day was going to come eventually— his first solo showcase. Four numbers, two self-choreographed, all technically and stylistically difficult.
The thing is— getting to perform several numbers solo is a big deal. It can sky-rocket his ballet career, if he performs well. A lot is at stake.
(Some dark part of his brain tells him that everything, everything is at stake.)
It’s his third year at the school, the year that the world is finally going to notice you , one of his strict instructors had told the class over and over until it was fully ingrained into their brains. Well— it had worked.
Jimin’s hands shake as he makes dinner for himself. By the time he’s settled at his own table, the room seems so— empty. Like all life has been taken from it, except for his small self in the center, the warm soup in front of him.
You can do this by yourself.
The world is finally going to notice you.
You have to handle this alone.
Maybe he’s just tired. He should take an early night.
When Jimin looks in the mirror of his bathroom an hour later, though, he doesn’t see the bright, anticipatory glance of a fledgling dancer looking back at him— only the dark circles under his eyes. The worry stretched across his face. The pallidness of his nerves catching up to him.
Jimin touches his chin and wonders absentmindedly if he even exists anymore.
It comes back to him, then— someone else softly touching his chin, cupping his cheek. Hey, Jimin-ah, my Jiminie, please tell us if you need us, okay? Warm, soft, honey-sweet. And another voice, another pair of arms hugging him from behind. Jiminie-hyung, just say the word, we ’ ll be there, okay? Love you love you.
The echoes of the people he loves so dearly in his head, Jimin takes a deep breath. Pulls out his phone.
Chat: jk, taetae, and mimi ♡
Jimin: hey guys?
Jimin: can you come over
Jimin: if youre not busy
Jimin: or sleeping or anything
It only takes a few minutes for his boyfriends to respond.
Jungkook: of course hyung <3 we’ll be there in a bit
Jungkook: tae wants to know movies or sleep?
Jimin: sleep i think
Jungkook: okay baby
Jungkook: nearly there, wait for us, please <3
Jimin: <3!
He washes his face once, not bothering to clean up the rest of his apartment. Taehyung and Jungkook have seen him in much worse places, sick or exhausted or horribly upset. This is just— another hurdle.
He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them again. He’s so, so tired, and yet completely awake at the same time.
When the door opens, Jungkook peeking his head in, Jimin looks up from the couch wearily.
“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook says softly, and reaches him first, not even bothering to hang up his coat.
He takes Jimin’s hand and it’s like an anchor of warmth, and then Taehyung’s arm is around his shoulders, the other resting gently on his knees, and Jimin shuts his eyes tight, trying to ground himself.
“This okay?” Taehyung’s voice, soft and gentle, soothes like a blanket.
Jimin nods, and Taehyung’s hand moves from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, lightly carding through the hairs there.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jungkook asks softly, squeezes Jimin’s hand.
“Not really,” Jimin rasps, unable to put this brand of tiredness into words. “Just. Needed you.” He feels pathetic even as he says it, and curls into himself, fighting off tears.
Jungkook hums, drifts a little closer, and kisses Jimin’s temple. He’s gentle when he brushes stray hairs away from Jimin’s eyes, gazing at him with concern.
When Jimin finally meets his eyes, Jungkook smiles softly, like he’s been looking for the reason to smile that way all of this time, and he’s finally found it. Like every other time he smiles at Jimin and Taehyung.
“I love you so much,” he says, so much warmth in his eyes, in the way he kisses Jimin’s forehead once, slowly pulling away.
“I love you, too,” Jimin says softly, but his voice breaks a little as he does, and a few tears fall down his cheeks.
It’s Taehyung who wipes them away, moving his other hand from Jimin’s knee to cup his cheek, and when Jimin meets his eyes, Taehyung looks sad. Like Jimin’s nervousness is his, like he just wants to take everything away.
“You’re going to be great. You are great,” he says gently.
“More than great,” Jungkook agrees.
“And,” Taehyung adds, tucking stray strands of hair behind Jimin’s ear, “this is all over soon. Just one more day and it’s over.”
Jimin thinks about the day after tomorrow, how he has nothing scheduled, no practices and no classes, just rest, finally, rest. Smiles a little, shuts his eyes, squeezes Jungkook’s hand.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
“Let’s sleep, okay, love?” Taehyung says, and Jimin nods, already feeling sleepy from their soft touches, warm glances.
Jungkook leads him by the hand to his bedroom, helps him change into his softest pajamas, drifting little kisses across his collarbones, and Taehyung makes the bed, adds extra pillows, presses a kiss to Jimin’s cheek when he’s done.
Under the covers, Jimin falls carefully into their arms, winding his arms around Taehyung’s waist, burying his head in his chest, as Jungkook spoons him from behind, resting his chin delicately on top of Jimin’s head.
With his eyes closed, and the tiredness washing over him in waves, Jimin allows himself to drift for a minute, holding on to his boyfriends tightly, kissing Taehyung’s collarbone when Jungkook kisses the top of his head.
And it’s then, after the quiet has settled around them, when Jimin whispers, “Sorry.”
“Hey, no,” Jungkook says quickly, “Why are you sorry?”
“Just. I could’ve, um, I could’ve done this by myself and I— I have to do it alone, and I’m being selfish, and— shit, sorry,” Jimin says, curling closer into Taehyung’s hold, his voice breaking.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says.
“Everything is at stake,” Jimin says. “That’s the thing, it’s just— it’s too loud, everything is so— I don’t— I’m sorry—“
“ Baby.”
Jimin stops talking.
“It’s not weak to lean on other people,” Taehyung begins soothingly, carding his fingers through Jimin’s hair as Jungkook drifts his fingers along Jimin’s arm, back and forth.
“Everything is not at stake, hyung,” Jungkook says. “We’re not going anywhere. Taehyungie-hyung is here to stay, I’m here to stay, the hyungs are here to stay, too, okay? We’re not leaving. Even if everything goes wrong tomorrow, you’ve got us, you’ve always got us.”
“My baby,” Taehyung says gently, “My pretty Jiminie, you’ve got me, always always, I’ve got you, we have each other, Jungkookie, too, always always. It’s okay to lean on us. Just as we lean on you. We’re right here. Always right here.”
“You promise?” Jimin asks in a small voice.
You promise?, something he has asked Taehyung and Jungkook so many times—
You promise?, when Taehyung, seven years old, told him that they were going to be best friends forever,
You promise?, when Taehyung said that just because they were going to different middle schools wouldn’t mean that this wasn’t still true,
You promise?, when the boy behind him in class asked shyly to borrow his pencil, saying he would give it back quick,
You promise?, when that same beautiful boy said he wouldn’t let go of Jimin’s hand if he got scared during movie night,
You promise?, when Jungkook and Taehyung met during Taehyung’s visit to Busan, and two became three, and they said they’d never leave,
You promise?, when the two most breathtaking people in the world began to date each other and said that didn’t change anything between the three of them,
You promise?, when, crying on Taehyung’s bedroom floor after a bad audition, Jimin begged for both of them to stay and they soothed so, so quickly,
You promise? , when they confessed to him, when he confessed to them, when they said they would never let go of each other ever again, this is how it was meant to be, they were meant to always always be there,
You promise?, when they were dating and when they weren’t, when Jimin could reach out to kiss them and when he couldn’t, when he loved them and— when they loved him.
And they would always answer—
(Always always—)
“I promise.”
Jimin shifts upward to kiss Taehyung, turns a little to kiss Jungkook, rests his head back on Taehyung’s chest, curling in tightly again.
“I’m scared,” he whispers.
Jungkook shifts closer from behind him, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, letting his hand linger before it drifts to rest against Taehyung’s wrist. “Baby,” he murmurs softly, “I— we can’t make it go away, but— you don’t have to be scared. It’s going to be okay— this isn’t the whole world, it’s okay if you’re not perfect, doesn’t matter to me, doesn’t matter to hyung, either, okay?”
“All you have to do is go out there and do your best,” Taehyung agrees, kissing the top of his head.
Jimin nods into Taehyung’s chest, whispers a thank you, and closes his eyes.
“Let’s sleep?” he asks quietly, and Jungkook hums, Taehyung agrees, and—
The world is finally a little quieter, in their arms like this.
Promise.
-
Jimin’s hands shake under the lights, and he quiets them by pressing them together. Holding his own hand.
Everyone is here to watch him. His instructors, dance critics, scouts, his classmates, his friends, his boyfriends, everyone, everyone—
“On in two,” a girl tells him, and he does some final stretches, fixes his pointe shoes, adjusts his first costume until it feels comfortable under his fingertips.
He thanks her before stepping out on the stage, the curtains still lowered, and he begins in his opening pose, a kneeling position with his head bowed.
It takes a second for the music to start, and when it does, it’s quiet. Exactly as Jimin has intended for it to be.
One of his close friends, Yoongi, had composed this piece especially for this showcase, had handed the CD over to him with careful hands. It’s a haunting piano piece, sad yet hopeful, desperate in a quiet way. Jungkook had recorded his voice over it, echoes and echoes of the same English phrase, I need you, I need you.
Jimin had choreographed this one himself.
When he performs, the world usually fades away. And like clockwork, it does this time. It’s him and the stage and the spotlight and the ballad pleading for someone to finally take notice of his pain. Jimin gets into a little bit of character, imagines himself at a younger age where the world was more bitter and he walked through school with fear in his eyes.
The opening piece should be your second best. That was what his instructors had told him, but it was also common sense. Jimin had picked this one out carefully, pouring over every detail, making a few changes afterwards to make it more technically difficult.
They’d also recommended having the opening and closing pieces be someone else’s choreography, for stability throughout the performance. Jimin hadn’t listened to that advice. Rather, he’d allowed himself to take a small (large) risk by trusting in his own skill and artistry as both a ballet and contemporary performer.
(And the week before Jimin finalized his dance order, he’d seen Jungkook take a huge risk of his own by making his final project two minutes over the time limit, saying that there was no way he could cut anything else from the short film to tell the story that needed to be told.)
And today— Jimin tells his story that needs to be told.
And in this story— he is a younger version of himself. He is small and afraid. He has no true friends and wishes that his imaginations could become reality, escaping into books and soft movements across dance studio floors. Never stopping for water breaks. Barely coming up for air.
He thinks of other people, thinks of dance, and lets his bare feet carry him through the steps.
His boyfriend’s voice in the air. I need you.
When Jimin finishes, the world feels lighter.
He comes back to the world, broadens his scope. The next one is for his friends.
It’s a choreography by his senior, Hoseok, who’d offered to choreograph almost immediately after Jimin had talked about the upcoming showcase. It’s something lighter, happier, with less technical skill, but still embodying personality.
And stage presence?— Jimin can do stage presence.
The song is about close friends, a simply produced joyful song, and Jimin thinks of every good memory, the seven of them, always promising to stick together.
He can’t see his friends in the audience because of the dimmed lights, but when he ends the piece with a smile, it’s for them.
(They know. They always do.)
The next piece is entirely technical, entirely ballet— the one that Jimin is the most nervous about. It was an instructor-choreographed song and he’d drilled it for hours upon end, still slipping up even the day before.
As he starts the piece, his legs ache from the soreness of last week in the particular spots where the choreography was the most difficult. The song in the background is about space and the stars, one soul searching for another.
(Well. Three souls have found each other, in Jimin’s case. The thought makes him smile.)
All you have to do is go out there and do your best. He lets Taehyung’s words soak into his heart as he performs. He thinks of the curve of their smiles, the love in their voices.
No matter what, it will be okay.
That’s his own voice this time.
And it’s still true— he does fumble in spots. His first two pieces weren’t flawless either. But instead of thinking about how everyone has seen him mess up, Jimin stays focused on the way Taehyung cups his cheek, the way Jungkook whispers love poems in his ear.
Breathes a little easier.
Before the last piece, Jimin closes his eyes.
Before the last piece, Jimin reminds himself that everything is not at stake.
Before the last piece, Jimin breathes.
The last dance is self-choreographed, and it’s about love.
The song is quiet, acoustic, and speaks of a soft love that has persisted for years and years, grown into a beautiful garden that stretches for miles and miles, needing no words to encapsulate its beauty.
The world is a little more beautiful because of you, the song says, and—
When Jimin was sixteen and when all of them were in the same place, but still unsure, still quiet about their feelings, he’d bought Jungkook and Taehyung both a bouquet of sunflowers.
Trying to say I adore you without actually saying it.
At the beginning of the piece he tries to convey something a little like that.
Then— he thinks of their first kiss.
After both Taehyung and Jungkook had shyly confessed to him two years ago, saying that their relationship’s missing piece was Jimin, we love you, we love you, please be with us?
Jimin had kissed Taehyung first because he was closest, and then melted into Jungkook’s kiss afterwards, and then breathlessly said, Duh.
It would be false to say that everything bloomed after that.
No, it was in bloom long before that. Maybe the first day Jimin had spotted Taehyung from across the playground. Maybe when Jungkook asked to borrow a pencil. Maybe when they traveled and traveled for each of them to meet each other, lost souls trading secrets and poems and promises.
Maybe a flower bloomed in their garden with every promise.
( I will let this garden grow for eternity , Jimin thinks—
I promise. )
The last thing Jimin thinks before the lights go down, the curtain closes, before he finishes his first solo showcase is—
I can do this by myself, but I don’t have to handle it all alone.
-
After dazedly giving his contact information to four potential employers, Jimin reaches Yoongi first.
“That was perfect, Jimin-ah,” he says softly, ruffles Jimin’s hair a little just to see him smile, and then a little more seriously, “You truly brought my song to life.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Jimin breathes, and then asks to hug Yoongi because he knows that Yoongi likes to be asked first. When Yoongi nods, Jimin holds on tight. Whispers thank you thank you I love you.
He reaches Namjoon next, who praises him and, like every other time, says he’s sorry he can’t do it in further detail because he doesn’t know that much about dance. Jimin smiles, says, I really love you, hyung, and Namjoon smiles back, dimples showing.
When Seokjin and Hoseok get to him, they wrap him in a big group hug, Seokjin ruffling his hair and Hoseok praising his technical skill with a certain reverence that Jimin knows is only reserved for special occasions. Seokjin watches Hoseok, enthralled, and Jimin just knows that they're going to spend the rest of their lives together.
And then—
"Hi, pretty Jiminie," Taehyung murmurs as Jimin clutches onto him tight. "God, you were amazing."
Jungkook joins the hug from behind, kisses the top of Jimin's head, and for a moment they just curl into each other's sweet soft holds and breathe.
"Thank you," Jimin whispers. (Gardens and gardens and gardens in his chest.)
Jungkook hums. "No matter what happens, remember?" he says gently. "I love you, Tae loves you, the hyungs love you, always always. Nothing can change that."
"You looked so beautiful out there, so beautiful right now, I knew you could do it," Taehyung continues softly, hugging them both tighter, one hand tangled in Jungkook's hair. "Love you love you."
"Love you love you," Jimin says back, drifting little kisses across Taehyung's collarbone.
They linger in the hug for just a little longer before Jungkook takes back the two bouquets he'd handed to Hoseok while the three of them were occupied.
Beautiful bright sunflowers.
Jimin smiles shyly, cradling the flowers in one hand and tangling his fingers with Jungkook's with the other as Taehyung wraps his arm around his waist.
"Do you like them?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin kisses his temple, murmuring sweet words of happiness before pulling away.
He stares at the bouquets lovingly and thinks of his younger self. Small and afraid, believing that even though there were people next to him, he was alone.
When he looks at the others, they look back at him with a certain fondness that only the seven of them carry.
"Ready to go? Dinner's on me," Seokjin says warmly.
Jimin nods and thanks him profusely, and sticks close to his two beautiful stars, chest filling with a certain type of warmth and—
Surrounded by a little family in a big world, Jimin thinks that maybe no one is ever really alone at all.