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Jungkook .
God, his head was spinning. It felt like he was underwater, his ears clogged and his eyes blurry and fuck, could he breathe? It didn’t feel like it.
Jungkook .
The soft sound hitting his ringing ears was like nails on a chalkboard. Someone had to be hearing it as well. Couldn’t they stop it? A solid weight is placed on both of his cheeks, gripping him, grounding him. He feels his head tip back.
“Jungkook!”
Jungkook’s head whips back forward, the rush causing small dots to dance in his vision. Kim Namjoon, his coach and dearest friend, was gripping his cheeks with both of his hands, staring into his own unfocused eyes with so much care and love that it made Jungkook want to vomit — well, vomit more than he wanted to already.
“Jungkook, can you talk to me? I’ll call this fight right now, just say the words.”
Call the fight?
Call the fight?
Jeon Jungkook didn’t fucking call fights. He fought them, and he won. Why was Namjoon even suggesting this? He peered over his shoulder and saw his opponent in the other corner of the ring, looking just as bad as he felt. How long had they been at this?
“Jungkook, focus.”
He turned his head back to that sturdy voice, trying to find some grounding beneath his feet to even begin to focus on anything other than the feeling of nausea and pain.
This was the WBA world championship. He’s fighting an Italian boxer that goes by the name Carlo Bonura, otherwise known as Carlo ‘Iron Fist’ Bonura. Jeon Jungkook was just… Jungkook. He wanted it that way, because he was fighting. Jungkook put his soul into every fight he fought, and he’d be damned if he let his accomplishments be swept up by a nickname that held no weight.
Still, Carlo’s nickname rang fucking true the second his glove connected with Jungkook’s jaw a half hour ago.
“Hyung…” He managed to mumble out, and Christ, he didn’t realize how dry his mouth was. Namjoon immediately caught on and grabbed his water bottle, tipping Jungkook’s head back just slightly. Jungkook accepted the water being shot into his mouth, his tongue out like some fucking dog. He spit it out into the bucket right of him immediately, really not fond of swallowing his own blood any more than he had.
Namjoon sighed out of frustration at the sight of the red water and pressed his lips together tightly.
Anyone could see that Jungkook was fighting within an inch of his life. He had taken too many blows to the ribs, too many shots to the head. Christ, his opponent had even tried to knock Jungkook out with a kick! He fought off the urge to throw a glare towards Carlo, but he refrained. He knew Carlo himself wasn’t fairing much better himself.
“Jungkook,” He began, kneeling down in front of the younger one. “I know it’s hard right now, but please think about your health first. Even if you called it, you made it this far. We’re proud of you, Jungkook. Your family is proud, your friends are proud, your country is proud. I’m proud of you. You don’t need to keep going just to prove to us something we already know.”
The bell rang, signaling the next round, and it was as if the words went in one ear and out the other. Jungkook immediately stood up, his body seemingly acting on it’s own. The bell meant get up, so get up he did. He felt a surge of pride shoot through him when he saw that Carlo was still sitting, head hung low.
“Jungkook.”
He turned to his coach, his mentor, his friend. Namjoon’s eyes were stern, worried, and Jungkook tried to find it himself to care more about that than his ego, but he couldn’t.
“You said it yourself, hyung.” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “I’ve made it this far. I can’t give it all up. Not now, I just can’t.”
Namjoon watched the ref make his way back to the center of the ring, and he knew there was no changing Jungkook’s mind. He grabbed the mouth-guard Jungkook had spit out and placed it back in, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. He saw the stubbornness and pride that got Jungkook here, and it would be pointless to argue. Jungkook wanted to win, and he’d fight tooth and nail to do so.
He glanced over to his five friends, all of them watching their exchange with worried eyes. He knew what they were thinking; everyone wanted Jungkook to stop. Namjoon shook his head and turned back to his golden maknae, his heart in his throat. With that, he threw his leg over the middle rope and ducked down, stepping out of the ring, leaving Jungkook to his fate.
He hoped fate, God willing, spared Jungkook just this once.
♞
Jimin’s eyes couldn’t leave the scene unfolding. Two punches. Carlos landed two punches in his fighting attack, and they both landed. That didn’t happen to Jeon Jungkook. That never, ever happened to his Jungkook. After that, the two fighters got tangled up in each other’s arms, feet pushing against the floor, trying to topple one another over as if it was their last resort to win.
Jeon Jungkook never did that.
The ref had blown the whistle, and Jungkook all but stumbled over to his corner of the ring, falling into the chair provided. Namjoon was there in an instant, his face etched with worry and his hands paused in the air, as if he was too scared to touch Jungkook, like Jungkook would break.
Jeon Jungkook didn’t break.
“Jimin-ah…”
Jimin turned to his left to be met with brown eyes looking at him with worry. Taehyung looked down at his thigh, and Jimin’s gaze followed, only to see he was gripping his poor friend with a grip almost bruising. He quickly let go, retrieving his hand back to his lap, apologizing almost instantly.
Taehyung huffed and grabbed Jimin’s hand again, interlocking their fingers. “If anyone can do this, it’s Jungkook-ah. You know he’s strong, mentally and physically.” He said, trying to not sound as scared as he felt.
“It’s just,” Jimin bit his lip, shaking his head. “Jungkook doesn’t get punched. He doesn’t get hit, not by anyone. Why is this match so different from any other match? Why isn’t he just—just… dodging it!” He threw his hands in the air to enunciate his statement, bringing Taehyung’s arm up with him.
“Jimin, you know it’s different, you’re just not thinking clearly.” Said a voice to the left of him. Jimin looked over at Yoongi, a frown on his lips, bringing his arm back down slowly.
This was the world championship. There was going to be a competition, and Jimin knew that. He knew that, and he’d prepared for it, but… seeing Jungkook in pain was something akin to being in pain himself. Fire licked at his heart in a way that made him want to curl in on himself. His chest felt tight, and he wanted to cry but he knew he couldn’t. Not when Jungkook needed them all right now.
“I know, I know…” He sighed and let go of his best friend’s hand, crossing his arms and leaning back. “I’m just worried.”
Hoseok reached over Yoongi and gave his friend a comforting squeeze of the thigh, a small smile on his lips. “I know he looks beat up right now, but I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’m sure he’s glad to finally have some competition for once.”
Jin hummed in agreement. “He didn’t expect to be handed this win on a silver platter, so I’m sure he’s happy it’s living up to his expectations.”
Jimin listened to them. He knew they weren’t telling the truth, because everyone could see Jungkook on the verge of passing out, but they were trying. They were trying, so shouldn’t Jimin try too. He gave his friends a weak smile, but found it fading fast. Watching Jungkook like this was different for Jimin. His mind went back to only three days ago, to Jungkook’s warm smile when Jimin walked into his training studio…
“Jungkook-ah, are you even ready for this?”
Jungkook had paused his punches, turning to Jimin who was standing by his free weights. It was a serious question, even though Jimin tried to display a weak smile. Jungkook had always seen right through Jimin.
“Of course I am. Is this you shitting on Namjoon-hyung’s training?” He asked with a small chuckle, trying to ease the tension that was slowly building in the room. Nobody liked stressed Jimin. Well, Jungkook liked every type of Jimin.
Jimin huffed and walked over to where Jungkook was standing. He placed a hand on the punching bag, and Jungkook looked at where the red of the bag contrasted pale, perfect skin.
Jungkook’s hands were rough, calloused and blistered. Jimin’s hands were small, gentle and soft, everything that Jungkook wasn’t. If he were to hold Jimin’s hands, would it startle Jimin? To drag his thumb along skin cracked and raw, to hold hands that were worked far past their point of use. Jungkook knew exactly what Jimin would do, and that scared him even more. Jimin wouldn’t think a thing, because that’s Jimin. Jimin loved with his entire being, his body too small for a heart expanding every day with love so pure it couldn’t possibly be real.
“It’s not.”
Jungkook had blinked, turning his head to meet Jimin’s gaze.
“Not what?” He asked, brows scrunched in confusion.
Jimin rolled his eyes and gave Jungkook a look of annoyance “It’s not me shitting on hyung, you brat. You know I wouldn’t do that, it’s just…”
Jungkook awaited his answer, and his breath hitched when Jimin stepped closer, a hand raising to brush some of Jungkook’s sweaty hair out of his hands. His hair-tie had fallen out long ago. Jungkook stared into his hands, his breathing becoming staggered.
“Are you ready? Have you come to terms that this isn’t going to be the regular Jeon Jungkook fight you’re used to? You’re gonna get hurt, Kook. You’re gonna get hurt for real this time…”
Jungkook reached up and grabbed the hand that was stroking his hair. Soft as he would’ve imagined. He didn’t really have to guess what his hand felt like against Jimin’s. He pulled Jimin’s hand slowly away from his face, held it gently in the air.
“It seems like you don’t have any faith in me, Jimin-ah.” Jungkook said with an outward breath of a laugh, not even cheerful enough to be fit for a laugh.
“I do have faith in you. I have more faith in you than you could ever know. I’m just… I’m scared. I know it’s selfish to be scared when all I have to do is watch, but… how can I watch, Jungkook? Am I just supposed to sit there and watch you take hit after hit until you can’t anymore?”
“Jimin—”
“Jungkook, I’ve watched his fights. I was up all night watching them. It’s a knockout every single time. He—He kneed someone in the nose last fight, Jungkook. The guy is in the hospital because his fucking bone almost went into his brain! He doesn’t care about you, he only cares about winning. I know you care about winning too, but you aren’t like that man, Jungkook. You don’t want to play dirty, but that’s the only way this guy knows how to fight.”
Jimin hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt a hand on his cheek and a thumb brushing underneath his eye. He stopped talking and looked up at Jungkook, and he was only met with a small smile and twinkling eyes. The only way he knew Jungkook.
“In three days, you’ll see, okay?” Jungkook said, his head tilting with a small smile. “It’ll be a quick fight, one and done, and then I’ll take yo— all of us out for a nice dinner with some prize money, how about that?”
Jimin pulled away from Jungkook and sheepishly wiped his own tears, huffing out a wet laugh. “Jin-hyung would never let you, I hope you know that.” He said with a small smile.
Jungkook beamed, because that’s all he wanted. That smile kept him going, even when he felt like all was lost. Deep down, Jungkook was terrified. He was more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life. Yet, Jimin smiled at him, and perhaps the world isn’t against him. Perhaps he has a chance.
“I know, Jimin-ah, I know…”
Jimin snapped out of his thoughts when the bell rang, and he looked up to see Jungkook standing. Back bare and broad, sweat and blood smeared against his perfect, tan skin. He couldn’t see his face, but he could only imagine the brave facade he was displaying to the crowd, to the public, but Jimin knew. His friends knew that Jungkook was on his last stand, yet there he stood, head high and gloves on. Namjoon didn’t have to specify whether Jungkook wasn’t going to stop or not, because they all knew that wasn’t an option in their youngest friend’s head. It was all or nothing, every time.
He hadn’t even realized the fight had begun until he heard the crowd whoop loudly, and his gaze was drawn back to the two men in the ring, gloves raised, elbows tucked and body’s posed diagonally. It had been Carlo who swung, and Jungkook who had dodged. Jimin felt a hand on his thigh squeeze again, and he looked over to Yoongi, who had his eyes trained on the fight.
It was comforting to know that somewhere inside each of his friends was the disgusting feeling of worry and, almost ashamedly, doubt.
♞
Jungkook ducked the swing almost immediately, because it was how Carlo was starting every round. A quick left hook, followed by a right. It was a pattern, and Jungkook had recognized it the second round they were in. He wasn’t anything if not observant.
Unlike most sports, there was no shit-talking in boxing. There was no time to, quite frankly. It was even more difficult with your mouth-guard in. That’s why Jungkook appreciated the sport. You were the instrument, and the performance was based on you. Jungkook didn’t have time to get into his opponent's brain, nor did the other. Pure, unfiltered muscle and skill. That’s what this sport was, and that’s why Jungkook loved it so much.
Jungkook saw the opening almost instantly and took it. Carlo stepped back and his rib was open, so Jungkook swung low, keeping his own elbows tucked still. Namjoon had been so persistent about keeping his nose, ears, and ribs closed off from harm. Those seemed to be prominent attacking places for Carlo.
They had circled around each other, and Jungkook really didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes drifted over to Jimin for a second, and he didn’t have to stare long to see the worried expression all over his face. For what it’s worth, he looks stunning. Only Park Jimin would wear a bedazzled shirt to a boxing match, but Jungkook would be a liar if he said seeing Jimin sparkle beneath the spotlights above didn’t make his breath hitch in his throat.
His body jerked back a second before Carlo swung and connected, and he felt the air brush past his face. He didn’t have to look over to see Namjoon facepalming himself, because yeah, okay, that was a bit dumb. Just a little bit.
Okay, that was really dumb.
Focusing back on the man in front of him, he began to fight with the strength he’d worked so hard to build, with the consistency he’d tried hard to maintain, with the speed he’d endured and the ferocity he’s gained over the years.
It was the end of the round, and it was no secret to anyone on the outside of the ring that their strength was wearing thin. Namjoon had practically beat it into him how easy it was for someone to find your weak point, use it, and utilize it. How easy it was to beat someone over a small, minor fumble of feet position or body movement.
Jungkook’s foot went back, but he didn’t find his grounding and his body tilted. He titled, and that was enough. Carlo reached forward and grabbed the back of his head with his glove, pulling Jungkook downward forcefully. He was met with his forehead against just below Carlo’s chest, and he sputtered in disbelief before he began to punch his opponent’s sides in a desperate attempt to leave this position. He knew what this position meant. The second he felt the fist come down on the nape of his neck, he knew it was over. The punches continued to rain down, and he was on the ground before he knew it.
♞
Jimin watched the entire thing unfold with wide eyes. He hadn’t even realized it was illegal until Yoongi jumped up, his usual quiet voice booming alongside the other participants watching the match play out.
“That’s illegal! That’s fucking illegal, stop the fucking match! Oh my fucking—”
Jimin watched Yoongi practically stumble over Hoseok and Jin to rush down to the side of the ring, where Namjoon was already climbing underneath the rope. He felt like he should do something, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He had told Jungkook this would happen. It was dirty. It was a dirty fucking move, and now Jungkook had to pay the price.
The scene before him slowly sketched itself permanently into his brain, and it was a scene he already knew in that moment he’d give anything to forget:
Jungkook’s body falling to the floor, the thud resonating loudly in Jimin’s head. Namjoon is three steps away from going back to his old roots, to picking up Jungkook’s gloves and finishing the fight himself. He was three steps away, his fist raised to strike Carlo when Yoongi grabbed him, held him back. Jimin hadn’t even seen Yoongi get in the ring, didn’t question it. His body began to come back to itself, and he wished it wouldn’t. He watched as the ref fixed the microphone on his face, standing in the corner of the ring like some coward. But, Jimin couldn’t judge. He hadn’t moved an inch since everything went down.
“Two points deducted from Carlo Bonura for the illegal use of the rabbit punch. Jeon Jungkook had five minutes to stand up before the fighter is eliminated in the case of a TKO.”
Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to process the information he just heard. “Rabbit punch? What the hell is a rabbit punch?” He asked, turning to his friends. Hoseok seemed to already be on it.
“The rabbit punch can be considered a punch to the back of the head or the lower end of the skull. Due to the fact that it is dangerous to the cervical vertebrae and spinal cord, this punch in boxing has ultimately been banned from usage in the ring.” He recited, and Jimin could hear the strain in his voice.
“Well what could happen to his body, Hoseok?” Jimin asked, eyes frantic as if he was searching for answers on Hoseok himself.
“Jimin—”
“Tell me!” He cried out, feeling Taehyung’s hand immediately come to rest on his shoulder.
Hoseok took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, “A single rabbit punch may be the contender for serious spinal cord injuries and irreparable brain issues. Injuries include… Fuck, Jimin-ah, please don’t make me—”
Jimin lurched forward and grabbed the phone, yanking it from his grip. He immediately began to read, knowing that the device would be out of his grasp in seconds. His eyes scanned the page quickly, and he felt his heart drop.
Bleeding of the brain.
Comas.
Vegetative state.
The phone was ripped out of his grip by a now angry Jin, and Jimin looked up to meet his teary eyes. Jin knew better than all of them what this meant. He had coached Namjoon for only a few years when an injury had taken Namjoon out for good. Namjoon knew when to quit, though. Jungkook didn’t.
He warned him.
Jimin’s gaze followed back to the ring, and he felt a flicker of hope to see Jungkook struggling on the fists of his gloves to push himself off the ground. Namjoon was now by Jungkook’s side, his head ducked low, whispering into his ear. He could only imagine the things he was saying, and fuck it to all hell, he knew Jungkook wasn’t listening. Jimin turned to see Yoongi showing security his VIP keycard, yelling into their faces and waving his hand around. The sight would have made him laugh if the love of his life wasn’t struggling to get up from the floor.
The love of his life.
Jeon Jungkook was the love of his life, and he was being forced to sit and watch him hurt himself time and time again. The price for Jungkook’s pain? Two points. Two, whole goddamn points are easily redeemable. Jeon Jungkook is priceless. There will never be another like him, and God, Jimin wanted to love him for a long time.
Please, Jimin begged whoever would listen, keep him here for a long time.
♞
Annoyed.
Jeon Jungkook was fucking annoyed.
He knew Carlo was a cheap, rotten bastard, but he didn’t think he’d stoop this low. It was just boxing etiquette 101; no kicks, no low blows, and no rabbit punches. You’d think it’d be easy to follow those fucking rules? Clearly not! Maybe he’s been punched so much that his goddamn brain didn’t stop to go through the fucking rules for just one singular fucking seco—
“Two minutes.”
Up. He needed to get up. He wasn’t done, he had so much fight left in him. Jungkook tried, God , he was trying so hard. His whole body was tingling with a sensation he’d never felt, like someone grabbed his spinal cord and whipped it back into his body. How the fuck was the even possible?
“Jungkook, listen to me. I am talking to you as a friend, not as a coach, okay? This is too far. He went too far, and no matter what happens, you won in our books, okay? This was your win, today, Jungkook. Not his. Please , pull out of this. Just stay down. I’m begging you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook knew Namjoon’s past, and he could assume how scary it was. Namjoon’s whole career had been taken from him in the blink of an eye due to some prick stomping on his head after he was already down. It didn’t happen for long, because Jin was on the bastard in almost five seconds, but even five seconds was too long.
Namjoon had been lucky he didn’t suffer anything major.
Jungkook knew that Namjoon was looking into a mirror, and it made him even more annoyed.
No, he wasn’t annoyed anymore. Jungkook was just fucking pissed.
With a grunt, he pushed off the ground with his gloves and sat back on his heels, his eyes adjusting to the sights and the lights around him. He looked straight on to see sparkles, and for almost a second, he thought he was hallucinating. His vision came to, and he was met with a sight that never failed to make him feel better, even if just a little bit.
Park Jimin, standing on his feet, his hair and his shirt and his skin glowing in the light around him. He stood out apart from the crowd, his lips open in what might be a yell, might be a sigh, Jungkook didn’t know. Their eyes met, and Jungkook did his best to smile. Almost as if to say, look, I’m alright, don’t worry about me. It probably looked goofy, mouth-guard in, with drool running down the corners of his lips and blood probably smeared along his face, but he tried.
Try he did, and Park Jimin was smiling back at him. The back of his hand came up to cover his face, and he began to shake his head. Jungkook watched his eyes scrunch, and he watched his shoulders shake, and he watched the laughter turn into sobs. Taehyung was there to quickly console him, to bring him back down to his seat and wrap an arm around Jimin.
“Jungkook…”
Jungkook looked over to see Namjoon, and he was taken aback to see tear trails on his cheeks as well. Sure, it was scary, but was it really that bad?
(Jungkook would watch the footage later to see that, yes, it was that bad.)
“I’m alright, hyung.” Jungkook said, and he meant it. There was no lingering pain internally, nothing danced in his vision, and despite the soreness in his neck, he felt alright.
Namjoon moved to run his hand along Jungkook’s neck, as if he could feel some sort of injury there.
“One minute.”
Jungkook turned his head to see Carlo standing in his corner, no expression on his face. No regret, no remorse, not even arrogance or cockiness. If anything, Jungkook would say he looked bored.
He grit his teeth and stood up from the ground, Namjoon following suit. Namjoon turned to him and gently grabbed the back of his head, placing their foreheads together ever so softly.
“You know what you need to do. Get him into a corner, shut down his options, and shut him down.”
Jungkook nodded against his hyung’s forehead, inhaling deeply to calm himself down.
“Whatever happens, I’m proud of you, Jungkook-ah. We all are, and we all love you.” He whispered out, and with that, Namjoon pulled away. He gave Jungkook a weak grin before making a fist and raising it slightly. “Fighting.”
Jungkook grinned, thumping Namjoon’s fist with his glove. “Fighting.”
Namjoon left the ring, and Jungkook turned back to his opponent. He’d have more colorful words to describe him if he wasn’t so focused on taking this round back and winning this goddamn championship. He’d win it for Namjoon, who had so much left in him but couldn’t ever reach the heights he desperately wanted to climb. He’d win it for his friends, who supported him relentlessly, despite the emotional toll he knew this was putting on them. He’d win this for Jimin, who was so full of love, that Jungkook selfishly wanted to feel that love too.
After the ref gives them the rundown of the rules again, Jungkook raises his gloves to be tapped by Carlo’s. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw that Carlo hesitated, meeting his eyes with some type of misplaced disdain. Carlo grunted and tapped — well, smacked — his gloves with his own before stalking off to his own side.
Jungkook did the same, then turned and got into position. Any exhaustion he felt was replaced with adrenaline and a new found sense of confidence. He imagines he shouldn’t feel too confident, considering he was almost given a TKO, but still… Park Jimin smiled at him.
So, yeah. Confidence truly at its peak right now.
The bell rang off, and Jungkook didn’t waste any time.
He knew Carlo wouldn’t be ready for his immediate attack, so watching him stumble back was satisfying to say the least. He tried to regain his footing, but it was no use. Jungkook kept going, and going, and going. Carlo could only block so much when Jungkook’s fists were coming at him in every direction. He could only dodge so much when Jungkook could pinpoint exactly where his exposed body would be next.
After being cornered, Jungkook did what he does best.
Punches rained on his opponent from every which way, but every single one was fair. Every single one landed where it was meant to, and it was moments like this where Jungkook felt in control with where his fists connected, how sharp in inhales and exhales are. Every moment was calculated, every breath measured. Every twist and turn of his body was intentional.
This was his favorite part; stepping back and enjoying the art he’s made.
Jungkook stepped back and watched as Carlo practically slumped against the ropes, head swaying side to side and his feet sliding to the ground. Slowly but surely, he slid to the ground, and Jungkook counted.
10…
He turned to look at Jimin, eyes searching in the crowd.
9…
Jungkook found him so easily. How could he not? He’d always find Jimin.
8…
Jimin stared back, and Jungkook felt his heart soar. There was that beautiful smile.
7…
Jungkook loves Jimin.
6…
He loves him so much it’s almost painful, but it felt as easy as breathing at the same time.
5…
Jungkook walked to the rope where Jimin was closest to, a smile plastered on his lips.
4…
Are you proud of me, Jimin?
3…
Did you see me, Jimin?
2…
Please see me, Jimin.
1…
The bell rang, and Jungkook turned around to see Carlo still on the ground, his forehead plastered against the mat and his fist coming down onto the floor. Jungkook knew the feeling, and he wouldn’t want to be in Carlo’s shoes. He sighed and walked over to his opponent, kneeling down whilst taking off his glove. He reached down and grabbed Carlo’s glove, holding it.
“I hope someday you fight the way you want, Carlo. I hope you fight with the passion we can all see in your heart…” He said, only for Carlo’s ears, before standing up and facing the crowd. He finally took out that god awful mouth-guard and smiled brightly, waving to the crowd. It was a wonderful feeling; to be loved in a room full of people, people who are applauding you and cheering you for making them proud. His smile reached his eyes, he was sure of it.
He looked to see Namjoon already making his way towards him, and he wrapped his arms around Jungkook tightly. If Jungkook noticed the protective hand on the back of his neck, he didn’t say anything.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you, Jungkook-ah. You knew you could do it, and I should have trusted you. I am so proud of you, so, so proud of you.” Namjoon said into his neck, and Jungkook could only smile.
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy seeing me like that, Namjoon-hyung. You did what everyone wanted to say. It’s not your fault I’m so stubborn.” He said with a small chuckle.
Namjoon smiled and pulled back, ruffling his sweaty hair. “So goddamn stubborn, Jungkook-ah. So, so stubborn.” He said affectionately. Jungkook laughed, a laugh only reserved for Namjoon, before turning to see his friends make their way to the ring.
It was amusing, to say the least. When you’re best friends with two professional dancers, one model and a boxer turned actor, one can only imagine the outfits.
So, yes, seeing Hoseok pout as he watched Yoongi slide under the rope with ease made him laugh, whilst the other struggled to fit his coat under the rope as well.
Yoongi accepted his hug easily, not being one to care too much if Jungkook was sweaty or not. He’d been friends with Namjoon and Jin during their boxing days, so he knew all too well the aftermath. Taehyung, Jin, and Hoseok were a bit more… cautious.
After three congratulatory pats on the arm, Jungkook looked up to see the person he’s been waiting for the whole night, smile and all.
Except, he was most certainly not met with a smile,
In fact, Jimin looked quite angry.
“Jiminie?” He asked, frowning.
“Oh, don’t you Jiminie me! Are you fucking kidding me, Jeon Jungkook?! Did I not tell you! I told him, right? I asked you if you were ready! What the actual fuck, Jungkook?!” Jimin cried, stomping forward and smacking Jungkook’s bare chest repeatedly.
“Wh— Hey! Ow! Jimin-ah, ouch, stop it! What the fuck are you talking about?!” Jungkook flinched, as if he hadn’t just taken punches from a man two times Jimin’s body mass.
“You! Oh, you piss me off so much! You smile all cute and you think it solves all these problems! Oh, you really piss me off, you know that?“ Jimin stopped slapping, only to rest his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind the sweat either. That, or he was so angry he could tell.
“I piss you off? Well how about this one; you piss me off! You come up here all bitchy and pouty because I got hurt! I’m fine now, see! I won the goddamn match, why are you yelling at me?” He didn’t want to cause a scene, but technically, Jimin started it.
“Because it could’ve been bad, Jungkook! You scared me! I was fucking scared, okay? Dammit, Jungkook, I was scared that I was going to lose you!” Jimin gave him one more smack for good measure, until his shoulders slowly relaxed and his fist closed into a small fist, gently hitting Jungkook’s chest. “Plus, I’m your hyung, Jungkook-ah. Talk to me with some respect.” He said softly.
Jungkook rolled his eyes and looked down at Jimin with a small smile. “Yeah, you’re also a pain in my ass.” He teased lightly.
Jimin’s eyes scrunched up, and Jungkook heard the laugh before he saw it, because Jimin had wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist and began to hug him. Jungkook responded easily, his arms sliding over Jimin’s body like it was made to do so.
“I’m sorry I got mad. I just…” Jimin pulled away so he could talk, looking up into his eyes. “Seeing you in pain, and knowing that there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.”
Jungkook laughed, and Jimin gave him a bewildered expression. Jungkook knew Jimin was about to scold him for laughing, so he talked quickly.
“Jimin, I got up because I saw you smile. That’s all I needed to keep going. I just needed to see you, Jimin.”
Jimin blinked, then blinked again, before looking up at Jungkook.
“You saw me?” He asked softly, as if they were in their own little world. To the both of them, they were.
Jungkook brushed some loose, blonde hair behind Jimin’s ear.
“Yeah, I saw you.”
Jimin smiled, and Jungkook couldn’t even begin to tell you where his brain started and stopped, but he was leaning in, and kissing Jimin in front of the world.
He felt Jimin’s face like he was the most precious thing to him, and honestly? There couldn't be a truer statement than that.
Their lips moved as if they’ve moved together for years, as if they’ve memorized the grazes and bumps and winding roads of each other. Jimin’s hands placed gently against his chest, his soft hands against soft skin.
Jungkook pulled away when he heard someone clear their throat, and he turned to see Taehyung with a small smirk, and the rest of their friends seemed to be feeling the same. Well, all of them besides Namjoon, who was doing his best to stop every camera in sight from recording. Jungkook laughed and looked down at Jimin again, kissing him once more.
Jimin kisses back, moving his hands up his chest to wrap around his neck. He pulled away and gazed into Jungkook’s eyes. “Is this a good moment to tell you I love you? Feels kinda like a good moment, with you being the world champion and all.”
Jungkook smiled and laughed, resting his head against Jimin’s forehead before kissing his lips. “I’m gonna say yeah, considering I love you too.” He said before pulling away, looking down. “Is this a good moment to ask you to be my boyfriend? Considering I’m the world champion and all.”
Jimin ran a hand through Jungkook’s hair, a small laugh escaping his lips before he sighed with content. “I fell in love with you before you were bigger than the stars, Jeon Jungkook.”
Jungkook couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes. He cupped Jimin’s face and gave him one last kiss before he turned to the world, his arm around Jimin’s waist holding him close, and his friends behind him supporting him as they’ve done all these years.
It was a new path, and a start to a new life, but it was a path Jungkook had been walking for a long, long time. It was the first time, though, he didn’t have to walk it alone.