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Jimin and Jungkook hadn't talked to each other since the night of the maknae's birthday.
Which by now, meant almost a full week of complete silence, of avoiding their heavy feelings, letting their resentment grow, and their anger fester.
From all of the days in the year that they could have chosen to pick to fight, of course September 1st had to be it. What a great birthday gift - the younger thought-, to be hurt and shouted at on the very day his existence should be celebrated. Just wonderful.
To make matters even worse, they had a row of shows awaiting for them on the days ahead. Which also meant he wouldn't even be able to wallow in sadness and cry his eyes out like he wanted.
As usual, he'd have to swallow down his screams, erase the bitterness on his tongue with the saltiness of his tears, and work. Bottle his emotions up, hide them inside a chest, and throw said chest into the dark ocean of forgetfulness, hoping that it would never resurface again.
Ignore the way his chest ached and his body yearned for the warmth of another, that no longer belonged to him.
Fantastic, really. What a wonderful birthday surprise.
They way they managed to perform in Manila without breaking down or killing each other on stage was solid proof of their professionalism though - Jungkook had to praise Jimin and himself for that-. Even if the looks they exchanged were cold and murderous, even if each short interaction was dripping with poisonous sarcasm, they pulled through, and did what they were supposed to do. For their fans, for their team and for their band mates, they tried their best to be civil.
And it worked, for the most part.
But the lack of direct confrontation didn't mean the end of all hostility.
Jimin avoided him like the plague once the concert was done, and Jungkook kept posting shady lyrics aimed towards him online, selecting songs he knew for a fact, would hurt the dancer as much as his enraged words had hurt him.
It might have been childish, but he wanted the payback. He wanted his boyfriend (?) to have a taste of his own medicine. (Were they even together anymore? He wasn't sure.)
He wanted him to know how miserable he felt, and how low his comments had been. He wanted to know how much sadness was drowning his soul, choking his love until it's inevitable death. He wanted an apology.
At the same time, he also wanted to apologize. But his pride, his anxiety, and his terrible way of managing his feelings didn't allow him to.
If he was honest with himself, he missed Jimin. And he hated missing him, because he still was head over heels with the boy. He couldn't eat, sleep or live without thinking of him. Without playing back their stupid fight in his head, over and over again, trying to figure out who was right and who was wrong. Quite frankly, he didn't even think there was a straight answer anymore.
Jimin wanted him to be more responsive to his affection, specially in public. He wanted to be respected, and cared for, and desired - at least, as much as their delicate situation allowed him to-.
Jungkook wanted him to be more open in private. He was tired of walking on eggshells, of being ignored, of being lied to. Why couldn't him just say what was on his mind, instead of suffering alone?
That was the black and white explanation of the conflict; one wanted to be recognized as a partner, the other wanted to be there for him as one.
But the grey areas of the dispute were the ones that hurt the most.
Like Jungkook's horrible, very bad, despicable social anxiety, that made him say things he didn't mean, stay quiet about the things he did mean, and offend people he didn't want to. Or Jimin's sudden outbursts of pent up rage, caused by his terrible habit of hiding his true emotions and thoughts, until he couldn't bear to carry them all alone anymore.
It's was a bad situation for the both of them, really.
They desired trust, but couldn't trust anyone else. They wanted to be more open with each other, but couldn't leave their comfort of their castle walls, neither tear down their armour of self-defense. They wanted love, and yet, could only give away pettiness. They yearned for each other but constantly pushed themselves away.
Nothing was okay, and they didn't know how to fix that.
"You're messing up the choreo." Jimin's voice made Jungkook stop moving, and look up.
They had been practicing alone in the studio for at least two hours now.
Namjoon had not so subtly asked everybody else to leave, and accompany him to his booth, because he needed to "re-record some lines" - in reality, they had gone out to grab lunch; the leader just wanted the fighting couple to have some time alone and maybe get their shit together without his direct interference-.
"Oh, really? What am I doing wrong now?" The maknae's reply was dry, borderline mad.
Jimin stared at him like he wanted to murder him. Or perhaps fuck him so hard he limped for another torturous week of neglectfulness.
"Your left knee isn't supposed to bend." He pointed out, trying his best to keep his chill. "Let's try again."
They did.
Jungkook somehow screwed up the same step once more.
"Do you even listen to what I say? You aren't supposed to bend your knee."
"I do, and I'm trying my best here."
They looked at each other without speaking for a cold, tense minute.
"Well, you aren't trying hard enough."
"I never am I trying hard enough for you."
Jimin raised one finger up, furrowed his brows, and tilted his head sideways.
"How fucking dare you say that?"
"I'm not lying though, am I?" The younger boy stepped closer, unafraid.
The dancer in front of him was fuming. But he didn't want to lose his temper again. So he huffed and turned his eyes to the mirrored wall, as the maknae's gaze remained glued to his silhouette.
"Let's keep dancing."
"We need to talk."
"We need to practice."
"FUCK practice!" Jungkook shouted, and for the first time ever, dared to confront his hyung openly. "Avoiding me right now won't solve anything!"
"I'm not avoiding you, I'm just trying to be professional."
"Professional?... Really?... It's that what we are? Business partners? Work mates? That's all?!"
Jimin spun around again.
"Maybe if we had left it at that, we wouldn't be miserable right now."
"You kissed me!" Jungkook walked up to him, until their chests were inches apart. "You told me you loved me! And now you act like you hate me?... Why? What did I do? Tell me! Because I'm fucking losing my mind, and I don't even know why!"
"How about you ask yourself that?!" The other spat back, furious. "You push me around, you pretend you don't like me! You act like you're disgusted by my mere presence, and any fucking time I try to be close to you, you push me away! You... You are ashamed of me! And you make sure the whole world knows it! You don't like me!... You don't!..."
"What?!"
"Why did you even kiss me back, huh? Why did you let me fall so fucking hard for you?!... WHY?!' Jimin screamed and then walked away, crying. "If I was smothering you, suffocating you the whole time, then why?-"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"EVEN THE FANS SEE IT, DAMN IT!... You hate me!"
"Don't put words in my mouth-"
"Who's the ugliest member of the group? You said me! Who's the most annoying? Me!..."
"I never-"
"IT'S RECORDED!... It's out there! For everyone to see! You said it! You!"
Jungkook's voice suddenly got stuck in his throat. His mouth moved but the words wouldn't come out.
God, he hated when that happened.
Yes, he had pushed Jimin away a few years ago, and quite literally ran away from his endless displays of affection, multiple times. But that was because he was shy, young, and very confused about his feelings. He hadn't put two and two together yet and realized that he also felt attracted to the boy. Hell, he didn't even know what real attraction was back then.
His sexuality was a mystery, the inner workings of his heart too, and he wasn't mature enough to admit he couldn't understand himself yet.
Still, he thought he had gotten better at being more receptive since then. At accepting and initiating skinship more often. At loving someone else, without needing explanations or reasons to.
Apparently, he was wrong. He still sucked at feelings. Big time. And again, any improvements he had made weren't enough.
Partly though, because Jimin refused to talk about how he was feeling, and never gave him feedback on how to be a more supportive partner.
He could only better himself so much.
"... You t-think I don't like you?"
His hyung laughed, but it seemed painful. Like his heart was getting crushed as he chuckled, and his chest didn't allow him to breathe properly.
"I know you don't." He wiped his wet cheeks with his fingers. "You're just having fun, aren't you? You've been making it very clear since day one; you don't care about me. You want the kisses, and the handjobs and the fucking, but you don't want commitment... You don't want me... And I'm done being your little game of experimentation... I'm done being your boyfriend only when you feel comfortable calling me one!"
"Jimin..."
"Do whatever you want, Jungkook. I'm done with you." He walked towards the exit. "Don't... Don't t-talk to me again. Not about us. Not about... Whatever the hell this whole fiasco of a relationship was. I'm done."
And just like that, he was gone. The smash of the door as he left served as a harsh slap of reality, that knocked Jungkook out.
His thoughts ran in circles through his head, and the world was spinning and distorting all around him. He felt nauseated. Disgusted with himself, with his boyfriend (?) and everything that had just happened.
He fell on the ground, on his knees. Sobs wrecked through his body and he wished he could remove his skull from his spine. Remembering every single time he had acted like a douchebag all at once was overwhelming. He had been such a moron.
Did Jimin really think he didn't love him? Was he doing such a terrible job at being his partner? Or was it his own insecurities that were planting these doubts into his head? Maybe it was both?
The situation was beyond screwed up, fuck.
He needed to tell him everything, even if Jimin didn't believe him. He needed to be one hundred percent transparent and yell the truth at him, because he wouldn't listen otherwise.
It was his last chance to be honest, to be clear. He had to take it. Or he would lose him forever. And as annoying, stubborn and oblivious as he was, he still loved him.
In a hurry, he stepped out the door and ran after the singer. Rain was pouring down like heaven was in grief. Endless puddles of silver flashed under his feet, as he crossed streets, sidewalks, alleyways and bridges, trying to find his boyfriend. He couldn't think of anything else; he had to find him.
Blinded by his remorse, deafened by his own words, and completely disoriented by his pain, he stumbled through the veins of Seoul in a hurry, losing himself in the insides of the city.
Eventually, his panic was too intense for him to keep moving. His feet stopped when he heard thunder, and his body dropped to the ground when lightning struck. If it wasn't by his desperate heaves and the violent shaking of his shoulders, no one would have noticed how hard he was sobbing; the rain was getting louder, harsher and colder by the hour, his body was trembling, and he didn't know where he was.
Oh.
Oh no.
He didn't know where he was.
His lungs tightened, constricted, almost collapsed on themselves. His hands turned into fists, clinging to his hair. His eyes opened wide, and he looked up, in terror.
He was in some street, in some neighborhood, somewhere. But he couldn't recognize anything. He had ran too far, into unknown territory. He was mentally, and now physically, lost.
Horrible scenarios crossed his mind. He was going to get mugged, punched, kidnapped or killed, for sure. Or worse, someone would recognize him laying there, on the wet ground, looking worse than the stray dogs around him, and would record him. The media would go insane, his boss would get furious, Namjoon would be disappointed and he'd get fired.
Dying would be more pleasing than getting fired.
Only thinking about it brought on another panic attack. He hid his face with his hoodie and pulled his legs towards his chest, turning into a ball. If anyone passing by tried to speak to him, he didn't know what he would do. Probably bolt, seek protection in a dodgy alleyway and cry some more, but he wasn't sure.
He was screwed, and he needed a plan. He needed help. He could only think of one person that could save him, though.
"I told you not to call me!" The voice on the other side of the line made his sobs worsen. He almost dropped his phone. "... Jungkook?"
"I'm s-sorry!" He exclaimed, fighting against his own fear with all of the strength he had left. "I f-fucked up and I'm so s-sorry!... You were r-right! I don't show y-you how m-much I love y-you!... But I do love y-you... I s-swear I do!... I just... I c-can't..."
"Kookie." The use of the nickname -although sternly- automatically made his breathing become steadier. "Why am I hearing so many cars? Where are you?"
The drenched boy looked around.
"... I d-don't know."
"What?"
"Hyung... I'm lost."
Jimin went quiet for a moment.
"What did you do?"
"I-I ran!... After y-you!... I needed to tell you... I... I... Fuck." He massaged his face. "I don't k-know where I am. P-please come pick me up."
"Kookie... How am I supposed to pick you up if you don't know where you are?"
Jungkook didn't hear the question fully.
"I'm s-scared... Please."
His voice got so quiet and thin that Jimin's resolve to stay mostly unbothered cracked.
"... Get into a taxi."
"What?"
"Tell the driver to take you to our company building. I'll go pick you up."
"WAIT!... P-please don't hang up." He begged, just as the dancer was about to end the call. "I don't w-want to b-be alone..."
He heard some tiny curses on the other side.
"Okay... I'm not going anywhere. Just... Please, try to breathe."
"I'm try-ing..."
"And you're doing a good job, just keep going, okay?"
Jungkook nodded - although he knew Jimin couldn't see him-. After wiping his tears again, so he could at least see the space around him more clearly, he shifted his weight and tried to stand up. But his legs felt like jelly, and didn't agree with the idea. Unstable, he tumbled back to the sidewalk and ended up scraping his knee. He hissed, groaned and tried to get up again.
"Kook? Are you okay? What happened?"
"N-nothing. I'm fine." He slowly stepped towards the road. "I'm fine."
"You don't sound like you are."
"I just... " He looked down at his leg and flinched. He was bleeding. "I s-scraped my knee. But it's o-okay."
"Please come back here, now."
He nodded again, and tried to catch the attention of at least one of the cabs speeding by. But who would want to stop for a ragged looking young man, with a bleeding knee, wet clothes, puffy eyes and a terrified look on his face.
"No one is s-stopping, hyung."
"Someone will... Calm down."
Jimin thankfully was right. After a few drivers ignored his existence and stepped on the gas with obvious enthusiasm, a sweet old man chose the breaks instead.
Jungkook climbed up on the back seat, told him where he need to go, and invented a cover up story to explain why he looked like garbage. The taxi driver would not stop asking questions, wanting to know if he really was okay.
Somehow, the conversation actually helped him regain some of his serenity. Once he arrived at the company building, he at least was able to talk without stuttering. That was a big improvement.
"That's... My friend." He pointed to Jimin, who was waiting for him under a black umbrella.
He was also carrying a dry black hoodie on his other hand, which meant that at some point he had gone back to their dorms. (He was already there, in fact, when Jungkook called). But that wasn't important, at as much as the fact that he had gone back around to save him, despite their fight and the resentment between them.
"Kookie..."
With a sigh of relief, he helped the boy out of the taxi, paying for the ride and refused to accept the change. The driver, happy to see that his client was in safe hands, wished them both a good day and drove off, as the rain continued to fall.
Then, they were alone again. Together under the storm.
They should talk.
"... Your knee." Jimin looked down, worriedly. "We need to clean that up-"
"I'm so sorry!" Jungkook cut him off and apologized again, before trapping him in a tight hug, that sadly was very short lived.
"Kook..."
As quick as he started the embrace, he pulled away, and let his chin drop to his chest, chastising himself for not being able to control his impulses.
He was drenched, dirty, smelled like sweat, and looked like a mess. Of course he shouldn't have jumped into Jimin's arms right away, what was he thinking-
"You're going to get sick if you keep wearing this." The dancer opened up his current damp hoodie, lowering the zipper with one swift motion. "Let me help you get this out."
Jungkook nodded shyly and let him do whatever he wanted. He shivered when the cold air of the street hit his even colder skin, but the unpleasant sensation was quickly overpowered by the dry warmth of the new coat, and Jimin's soft hand rubbing his trembling arm.
"T-Thanks."
His hyung looked at him like a kid would look at a newborn puppy. The adoration and the care in his eyes was evident, but the other boy wouldn't notice it until his fingers moved up to caress his jaw, and gently tilt his chin up.
"Look at me."
"I'm looking."
They both had cried a lot in the last two hours, and their reddened faces were proof of it. They were sad, and sorry, and most importantly, too tired to keep fighting. So they wouldn't.
Besides, there was something about the fury of the rain that was weirdly calming. No one could scream louder than the howling wind, no one could overpower the mightiness of the thunder. So what was the use of trying?
Even the constant pitter-patter of the droplets hitting the umbrella was soothing. It reminded them of simpler times, when they were both just kids under their parent's care, and would watch the storm outside unfold from the safety of their homes, unafraid of the forces of nature, because they didn't know the true dangers of them yet.
Right now, they were under the darkest clouds of their lives. Right now, their house wasn't their shelter. Their family was gone. Their blankets couldn't keep the chill air away from them. The only safety they had was found in each other.
Therefore, if they wanted to make it out of that tempest alive, they had to trust in each other, confide and be honest with each other. Only then would they find a way to reach clearer skies.
"I'm sorry for screaming at you." Jimin's apology was short, and almost whispered, but sincere nonetheless.
"And I'm sorry for hurting you." Jungkook mumbled back.
The older singer dried the younger's cheeks with the pad of his thumb and sighed. He wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him everything that his heart felt at moment. But he couldn't. Because they were in public. And If anyone saw...
"Let's go home." The maknae begged, sniffling.
Oh, fuck privacy. He couldn't bear to see the boy tearing up like that again.
Swallowing his fear, his pride, and his frustration, Jimin embraced him and clung to his hoodie with desperation. He needed to feel him close, and know for a fact he was truly there, alive and okay.
And together they stood there, under the rain, crushed against each other, for minutes.
---
Eventually they parted, and decided to go back inside the company building, so Jungkook could get a little cleaned up before heading back home.
As the maknae limped to the toilets, the other returned to their dance studio.
Since they were prone to have small accidents while rehearsing their complicated dance routines, there was always a first aid kit laying nearby. He grabbed it, and quicky joined Jungkook in the bathroom. When he arrived, the boy was already washing the shallow wound on his knee with water and soap, facing his pain and discomfort with a barely noticeable frown. He was used to things like these happening, it didn't bother him as much anymore.
Still.
Jimin was worried.
"You're going to rip of more skin if you keep scrubbing that hard." He warned with a soft voice, and the other stopped right away. "Let me take care of you right now, okay?"
He then opened the kit and pulled out a bottle of alcohol first, as well as a couple of cotton balls. Gently, he finished cleaning up the scraped area, applying some antibiotic ointment to the cuts, and covered everything nicely with bandages. Jungkook didn't groan, flinch, or utter a single word until he was done.
"Thank you." His voice was now steadier, deeper. "For this and... For picking me up."
Jimin nodded, deep in thought, as he reorganized the kit. Locking the lid in place, he turned around to look at the maknae, sat down on the edge of the sink.
"You don't need to thank me. If anything, I should be the one apologizing."
"You don't-"
"I should have just talked to you. Said everything that was on my mind and got rid of all the doubts I have calmly..." He crossed his arms, frustrated with himself. "I'm sorry I couldn't. I'm sorry I screamed at you, and left you alone... I'm older than you. I shouldn't be this impulsive and mean spirited."
"... And I'm sorry I screamed back." Jungkook replied, looking away. "Hyung... I'm... Bad, at the feelings thing. And even worse at the... Talking, thing. I've been trying... To get better, and to be better for you. But it's hard." Another sniffle, this time to unclog his snot filled nose. "I'm not very good at explaining myself... But I do want you to know one thing. I love you. That's not changing, ever. Even if I say things I don't mean... Or if I don't say anything at all. I still love you. I still care. I just... Sometimes don't know how to show it."
Jimin stepped closer, as if asking him to look up.
"I love you too." He grabbed his hands. "And I get the whole 'bad at feelings' situation... I'm the same as you. I don't know how to deal with strong emotions, so I explode... And you do the opposite, I guess... You implode."
"We have to stop that."
"I know. We're dumb."
They both chuckled, ignoring the tears that begun to pool in their eyes once more.
"I know it's selfish of me to ask... After everything I said..."
"Hm?"
"But can we go home now and ignore all of this, for a while?" Jimin requested with some hesitancy. "I don't think us talking about what happened right now is a good idea. We need to cool down a little bit before that... I just... I really want to cuddle."
Jungkook chucked.
"Me too. We'll talk tomorrow." Then agreed. "But..."
"But?"
"I do need to know one thing right now... Are you..." He sighed. "Are you still my boyfriend?"
At that exact moment, the dancer's sadness and self hatred became even more unbearable. Because he suddenly remembered that, at the end of their confrontation, he'd specifically asked the maknae to never speak with him again. In other words, he'd broken up with him, in the worst, most cruel way possible.
God, he was a jerk.
"If you'll still have me." He replied meekly, ashamed of his own disastrous behavior.
Jungkook nodded without a doubt, and pulled him close. They held each other once more, although this time, the relief was greater than the regret. They only parted after five whole minutes had passed, and some guy they didn't know walked inside the bathroom, disrupting their fragile privacy. They were on a shared space, after all.
"Let's go home, Kook-ah."
"Lead the way."
---
After saying hello to their members -whom they found lounging in the living room, eating what was left of their take out while watching a movie-, they grabbed some snacks and ran to Jimin's room. Since Hoseok was outside, napping on the far end of the couch, they were free to cuddle together, exchange a few shy kisses, and talk some more. Not about their fight, or their insecurities, or anything remotely serious though. Only about what they were up to recently, what were their plans for next week, and how could they move forward from what had happened.
At some point, Jungkook pulled out his earphones and asked Jimin if they could listen to music together. They were getting sleepy, and too exhausted to keep talking.
"I want to show you a song... I know you've heard it before, but... I want you to hear it and read the lyrics again. Please." The maknae whispered as he opened up YouTube.
Jimin eyed the search bar with interest. He did know who Troye Sivan was, and wasn't a stranger to his songs. Jungkook would often sing them in the shower, Taehyung would mumble some of their loose words while cleaning the house, and even Hoseok from time to time would be caught whistling them.
'Fools', specifically, was one he was very well acquainted with. After discovering it, he had learned the lyrics and researched what they meant online, finding comfort in the message and relating deeply to the music video.
Still, because his boyfriend asked, he pulled up the translation and re-read it with care. And as he scrolled down, the boy himself confessed:
"I wanted to hear it now because... I used to listen to this one a lot when I first realized I was falling for you."
Surprised, Jimin's eyes shot up from the screen to his face.
"So that cover you did..."
"It was partially meant for you, yes." Jungkook grabbed his free hand, before singing: "... Don't give a fuck, not giving up, I still want it all..."
Hearing him sing that little line made the older boy's heart skip a few beats. He always had thought that cover had a special meaning for both of them, but now it was confirmed. It was really a song Jungkook associated with him, with their relationship.
"... I have one song too." He admitted, with a shaky voice. He honestly never imagined that one day he'd share that information with his partner; it seemed too cheesy and embarrassing. But now... He felt like he had to do it. It was only fair, after all. "I'm guessing you already know it too... It's 'For Him'."
"Really?" Jungkook grinned. "I love that one."
And so, they changed the track again. The music flowed and the first verse went by smoothly, as they kept staring into each other's eyes, finding comfort in their mutual forgiveness and affection.
"You don't have to say I love you to say I love you... Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons..." Jimin mouthed the lyrics, setting his own phone aside. He raised his fingers up, and brushed a few hair strands away from Jungkook's face. " We've been making shades of purple out of red and blue... Sickeningly sweet like honey, don't need money... All I need is you."
"I'll never be able to listen to this song again without thinking of you." His boyfriend chuckled, leaning into his touch.
"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"
"A great thing."
"...Good."
After watching his smile slowly fade as the music kept going, Jimin leaned forward and kissed him, properly, without rushing the movement of his lips and trying to pass it off as a simple peck.
He kissed him like he wished he could have under the rain, after getting him out of that cab and realizing how badly he had messed things up. He slid closer to him as the song went on, and erased their personal spaces in name of the intimacy he desperately craved for.
Jungkook didn't mind his initiative at all, and didn't waste any time in kissing him right back.
"I love you. And I'll try to do better... I'll be better." The dancer promised, pressing their foreheads together. "You deserve it, and so do I."
"I love you too." The maknae smiled. "And I'll try my best too."
---
It wasn't an easy road, but they managed to cross it mostly unscathed. They talked about their argument and their reasonings almost everyday since that afternoon, while giving each other enough time apart to heal from it.
Slowly, as the pages on the calendar flew, they started spending more and more time together, and eventually found themselves in a place where they could be brutally honest about their own faults.
Jimin learned about the complexities and roots of Jungkook's anxiety. He heard him describe his own panic attacks openly, complain about his never-ending train of bad thoughts, talk about his fear of accidentally hurting people and explain why sometimes he couldn't help but just go silent, and run away from his problems... It made a lot of previously weird situations suddenly make sense in head.
Simoultaneously, Jungkook also learned about the self-steem and self-worth issues that made Jimin second guess everything and everyone, about his overwhelming and dangerous need to be perfect at all times, about his own struggles with his identity, his sexuality crisis, and listened to him talk about how difficult it was for him to keep his mood swings in check, and not snap at anyone that got too close to his heart.
It was a hard, bittersweet conversation. But the pain, the shame and the awkwardness were worth it. They could now perform and interact with affection, and with kindness. They could look at each other for support, instead of sneering and huffing every time their eyes connected. And when they were alone, they could be as in love as they always were, without questioning their own actions and intentions.
It took a while, but the skies were now clear. The storm was gone, and the birds had started singing again.
The tempest was over.