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Jimin sits back on his ass, huffing so hard his lungs might collapse. Around him, the silence resounds. The only thing breaking it, the periodic pat-pat-patters of the volleyball along the gym floor behind him but he's too tired to get up. His bones shake and his muscles are screaming, the amount of lactic acid in his muscles must be reaching lethal levels by now, if the pain is anything to go by and he still can't receive properly.
Fuck this.
He closes his eyes and leans his arms on his knees, letting his head fall between them, sweat trickling down in not so much drops but tiny rivulets across his forehead, through his bangs, pooling on the waxed orange floor. Maybe this is it--maybe this is his limit, maybe he won't ever get passed this hurdle and he'll be the reason Bangtan loses all their games, the reasons that the upperclassmen won't make it to nationals, the reason--
"Ow!" Something hits the back of his head so hard his forehead almost claps against the ground. He twists around to see Jungkook tossing another ball into the air, his form so damnably perfect Jimin wants to close his eyes just so he won't have to see it, but his body moves on instinct, recognizing the ball before his mind can catch up and he's in receiving stance by the time Jungkook's hand makes contact with the ball and it comes zooming towards him.
Pah! The ball bounces off Jimin's arm at a not-so-perfect angle and goes shooting towards the ceiling.
He doesn't have time to think; Jungkook is serving again.
Pah! Jimin's knees almost give out, but just almost. The ball goes up better this time, the arch just a bit too high.
Jungkook hits another, and then another, and Jimin somehow manages to get to all of them but on the fifth serve, he fixes his eyes on the ball and moves--he can get this one, he can properly get this one. His foot meets something before it hits the ground and his leg goes shooting out from under him, the gym spins in tight circle and the next second, the back of his head is thudding against the ground hard enough to make his ears ring. Black squiggly somethings curl around the edges of his vision and he grasps for a breath that isn't quite there before he comes round enough to realize that he's on the ground, flat on his back, lights flickering in and out of his vision in unnatural flashes.
"Shit."
"Yep, your receive is pretty shit." Jungkook is standing over him, a hand outstretched, not exactly frowning, but not exactly pleased either. His expression borders on apathetic but his eyes are large and dark and... soft. He huffs and glances at his proffered hand. Jimin blinks before reaching up and taking it, letting Jungkook pull him up a little rougher than perhaps necessary. In the usual Jungkook fashion, of course.
"But it's getting better," Jungkook says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the benches, his fingers brushing through Jimin's as he does, glancing over his shoulder--are you coming?
Jimin scratches the back of his head, unsure of how to respond to the underhanded compliment and for Jungkook, that's about as good as it's going to get. Jimin drops onto the bench and heaves a deep sigh, his body finally catching up to his exhaustion and all of a sudden, his head is pounding and his limbs are so heavy he might never lift them again. His bones are all but melted into his muscles and his stomach is churning from the lack of food; he hasn't had dinner yet. He didn't even have a proper lunch.
"You didn't have to hit me though," Jimin says, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead and it comes away slick. He shakes his bangs and grimaces at the droplets of moisture that goes flying. A wet dog would smell better than he probably does right now.
"You looked so pitiful it pissed me off," Jungkook says, rummaging around his bag for something or other. A moment later, he pulls out a green tube and parks himself next to Jimin, uncapping the tube and squeezing a large dollop of what looks like hand sanitizer into his palm. Jimin eyes it with clipped apprehension.
"What's that?"
"Gimme your arm," Jungkook says.
"What is that?" Jimin asks again, holding his arms closer to his stomach, leaning back several millimeters.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, "Lube," he says, and for a second Jimin looks mortified.
"It's aloe vera--it'll help with the swelling," Jungkook says, voice flattening, and before Jimin can protest, Jungkook reaches out and tugs one of his arms forward, baring the skin of his forearms, bruising and raw from the repeated impact. Jimin's entire body tenses as Jungkook makes to put the aloe on his skin but it doesn't sting, it doesn't hurt (two things he usually associates Jungkook and bodily contact with Jungkook), it's pleasantly cool and Jimin sighs. Jungkook keeps silent as he lathers the aloe up and down the red patch on Jimin's arm. Jungkook's hands, usually so rough, though never careless, is gentle and he keeps his eyes trained on Jimin's arm, never looking up. Jimin however, is watching Jungkook's face, a barely suppressed wonder spreading across his face like the dawning light of day. Finally, Jungkook glances up as he finishes rubbing in the aloe and his cheeks flush a dark maroon.
"What?" He bites out, tugging on Jimin's other arm, jerking it forward till it lies straight and Jimin winces. Jungkook chews on his lips and lowers his head again, "... sorry."
"It's okay," Jimin says, quirking his head, watching Jungkook repeat the ritual of coating the tender skin on his arm with aloe, working it into his skin with the pad of his thumb.
"We're fucked if you're not in top shape for the match on Sunday," Jungkook says, capping the aloe bottle and tossing it back into his bag, carding a hand through his hair, pouting and looking anywhere but at Jimin's face.
Jimin rubs at his own arms, retracing the places Jungkook had touched. "Not like you pass to me anyway."
Jungkook scoffs and reaches over ruffles Jimin's hair, pushing his head down with a soft laugh.
"Bitch I just might."
Jimin looks up, an eyebrow raised.
"You're just playing," he says, crinkling his nose.
Jungkook fixes him with a hard look, "Since when have I just played?"
Jimin falls silent, it brews and thickens but finally, he sighs and shakes out his bangs again.
"Right, it's always all or nothing with you, isn't it?"
"No other way to go, but I don't like to gamble," Jungkook says, tone lofty as he gets up and shoulders his duffle-bag. He jerks his head towards the gymnasium door, "McDonalds has an 18 piece chicken nuggets special."
Jimin starts, all signs of fatigue gone, "Oh fuck yeah."
There's something stirring in the pit of Jimin's stomach as he scuffs his trainers along the ground, stretching his arms over his head, feeling his back crack in a series of satisfying pops. Jungkook is in the bathroom. Across the court, Jackson raises a hand and waves. Jimin grins wide and waves back.
"Consorting with the enemy already, huh?"
Jimin turns. Yoongi is stretching his arm over his torso, expression blank as always.
"He's friendly," Jimin says, "And he's got great taste in music."
Yoongi blinks in a perfect deadpan and shakes his head, "You giant sell-out."
Jimin laughs and brushes it off, going back to his warmups. He turns just in time for a volleyball to hit him smack on the nose.
"Oh fuck," Jungkook looks startled, eyes wide as the ball bounces off and hits the ground, "You weren't supposed to turn."
Jimin rubs his nose and scowls, "You could've broken my nose!"
"Would've been an improvement," Jungkook says, recovering as he levels himself with the bench and works through the warmup stretches.
"You ready?" he asks as the referee blows the whistle for both teams to line up. Practice match, it might be, but GOT7 lives up to their title boasting of a powerhouse of receivers (well-earned as their most used phrase on court is "Got it!').
"Born ready," Jimin says, grinning wide even though he's bouncing on his feet, part excitement, part trepidation.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. Jimin smiles even wider.
"All or nothing, right?"
And Jungkook grins. "Right."
The game passes in flashes of white, a slur of voices both sharp and soft, hand signs and bruises stacking up till Jimin loses track of both. But they're still neck and neck, the GOT7 team saving as many as Bangtan scores, and Bangtan's defense has never been the best. They run into overtime and hit the tiebreaker. Everyone is heaving, dripping in sweat. The referee calls 10 to wipe down the court--any more sweat and the place would have become a small wading pool.
One more point, just one more point. Jimin guzzles half a bottle of water and sprays the rest over his head, basking in the cool that runs down his face and back. A towel lands on his head and he peers out from under it. Jungkook is standing next to him, his own bottle in hand, polishing off the last of his water. No words are exchanged as Jimin wipes down his face and gathers one last breath.
The whistle blows and the world falls away. Just the ball and the court and the five other bodies moving around him.
The ball goes up, up, up--Jimin's eyes follow it before flickering down to Jungkook, poised to set. And for a brief fracture in time, Jimin almost catches Jungkook's gaze but it happens too fast and the next moment, the ball is whizzing over and Jimin's already jumping up. His palm smacks into the ball and it rockets towards the other side of the court before anyone has time to react, meeting the gym floor with a satisfying thwack.
Jimin lands and his knees give out. He sits back hard on his ass but this time, the gym erupts in a positive torrent of sound and it takes him a moment to realize that it's the rest of his team, cheering and whooping and Hoseok is swinging his shirt above his head, jumping up and down. Taehyung has leapt onto Seokjin's back as Namjoon thumps Yoongi on the back. Jimin turns to find Jungkook's hand, outstretched. He looks up and Jungkook is grinning, a little bit breathless, cheeks flushed with color that he'll later claim to be wholly and completely from the match and nothing else. And Jimin takes his hand, letting Jungkook pull him up.
"So..." Jimin grins as they line up for one final bow. He chances Jungkook a glance before they lean forward to a collective chorus of "Good game!" When he straightens, Jungkook has one eyebrow perfectly arched.
"So?"
"Was that an all or nothing?"
Jungkook flashes him a lopsided grin.
"Well it sure as hell wasn't nothing."