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78 days to the farmers’ market

Bloomville is excited to announce our annual spring farmers' market festival!  

Celebrate spring and support your local farmers, fishermen, chefs, producers and merchants!

“Stand a chance to win the title of Best Stand and a cash prize of 5,000,000₩!” Jimin reads out. “Ha! You bet your watermelons I’m gonna win this!” 

“I think not,” a deep voice says into Jimin’s ear.

Jimin shrieks and falls forward into the spice viburnum bushes. It takes a few disorientated moments of scrambling through the clusters of pink buds and leaves before he can right himself up. He glares up into the terribly handsome face of his arch nemesis. 

Jeon Jeongguk.

The bane of his existence, the town’s latest swooning sweetheart, Jeon Jeongguk is simply a pain in Jimin’s ass. Well… not because he is actually an evil and horrible person, no, but because his crops are shaping up to be as bountiful and luscious as Jimin’s. 

And he’s darn annoying about it. 

It doesn’t help that he has a killer smile, and killer biceps, and killer hair, and killer thighs – Jimin mentally launches himself into the Arctic ocean. This man is nothing but the Devil, all wrapped up in thick, corded muscle and – there he goes, once more, into the ocean.

“Jeongguk-sshi, fancy meeting you here,” Jimin says through gritted teeth. He folds his arms and pretends to snuggle in the bushes, tossing his fringe out of his eyes. 

“Hello, trouble. You’re just hanging out here, then?” Jeongguk asks amusedly, peering down at him with his pretty, doe-like eyes. He’s dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and a thick plaid shirt, a red baseball cap pulled over his thick black hair. He looks terribly good for a farmer. Especially with those darn boots.

“I certainly am,” Jimin answers defiantly. It’s still slightly chilly and his t-shirt is thin. The twigs are poking into his skin.

Jeongguk’s lips turn up into a smile. It’s a good look on him – it’s better than that smirk that riles Jimin up, makes his toes curl and sets his insides on fire.

“There’s a snake in the bushes. Right there,” the taller man quips, nodding to Jimin’s left.

Jimin screams (because bugs and bees, he can handle. Slithering, scaly reptiles? No siree bub!) and launches himself out of the bushes, straight into Jeongguk’s broad chest. His legs even wrap around the taller man’s waist, and Jimin clings to him like a koala bear. And if he momentarily savours the moment of feeling sturdy muscle, nobody has to know.

Jeongguk barely staggers under the additional weight. He looks up into Jimin’s eyes, the sneakiest grin spreading across his face. 

“I’m just kidding. There’s no snake at all.”

Jimin’s jaw drops and he disentangles himself immediately, dropping to the ground unceremoniously. “I hate you,” he says. He means to sound venomous but with his arms folded across his chest and his pouting lips, he knows he’s coming across more petulant than anything.

“Sure you do,” Jeongguk sings, winking at him. “See you around, trouble!”

“What’s with the frown?” Hoseok asks when Jimin returns home. The elder reaches forward to press a thumb to Jimin’s forehead, rubbing till Jimin’s eyebrows have relaxed and there is no longer a crease marring his skin. “You’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Jimin sighs and flings himself into the kitchen chair. “Jeon Jeongguk,” he moans dramatically. “I need to come up with a detailed thirty-five step master plan to ensure my veggie babies get the best care possible.”

“Excuse me. Am I not the best care they are receiving right now?” Hoseok asks, thoroughly offended. He flicks Jimin’s forehead instead. “Maybe you do deserve those wrinkles.”

Jimin lets out a tiny scream of frustration. “I have to beat him! I can’t stand his smirk, that smug face he has when the ahjummas compliment him – it just makes me want to- want to-”

“Rip his clothes off?” Hoseok supplies, as he prepares a mug of apple custard tea. He pours boiling water from the kettle into Jimin’s signature cat mug and instantaneously, scents of buttery crusts and caramelised apples waft through the air. 

Jimin closes his eyes and inhales deeply, purposefully. He takes in that sweet scent, the tendrils of it slowly loosening the clenched nerves in his brain. “Yes,” he sighs dreamily. He sips the tea, silky sweet running over tongue. He almost relaxes and then Hoseok's words register in his brain.

The mug slams onto the table, tea sopping onto oak, and his eyes shoot open. “No, I don’t want to! HYUNG!” 

Hoseok cackles as he dances out of Jimin’s reach. “Come on, we’ve got work to do! Finish your tea!” he calls as he hightails it out of the kitchen and through the back door. 

Jimin glares at the door in place of the elder. Reluctantly, he finishes his tea quickly and joins Hoseok out back.

Bloomville is a wonderful place. The people are cheery and kind, the land is fertile and rich. Jimin owns a pretty plot of land, just down in Cornelia Crescent, dedicated to growing squash and wild chives, pears and tangerines – you name it. Now that the ice is melting and the golden beams of the sun begin to peek through and spring has thus arrived, Jimin is ready to plant his crops of mugworts, Shepherd’s purse and chilli peppers that he’s been housing in his greenhouse since last winter. His melons would finally begin to flower and fruit!

He had grown up learning from his green-thumbed grandparents, who owned a far larger plot of land. His parents, meanwhile, baked all sorts of bread, especially with the fresh produce they would harvest. Savoury spinach pastry tiles, blackberry pies, gochujang danishes, melon cream tarts – all sorts! And the best part is that Jimin can have them for breakfast, lunch, dinner or simply, whenever he craves them.

See, Jimin’s life is picture-perfect, and he’s content. Or at least, was. 

That is, till Jeon Jeongguk moved into Bloomville a year ago, right after the last annual spring farmer’s market. He took that little dark blue house up on Nutmeg Hill that had been dusty and empty for a few years. A few days later, the dust was gone, the windows polished and the roof fixed. Within a few weeks, his perilla leaves were climbing six-feet poles, his spinach healthy and thick. Two months and he had sunshine daffodils and kaleidoscopic primroses growing in his front yard, magpies twittering around the fresh blossoms. His golden-yellow slicer tomatoes were the talk of the town. 

For the summer’s farmer’s market, he had made sangria, flavoured with oranges and apples he had handpicked from Mrs. Ahn’s orchards (she never allowed Jimin to do so!). Jimin doesn’t know what it tasted like, but he had heard from his parents that it was the best they ever had. Psh!

Jimin couldn’t stand it. The way Jeongguk sidled into everyone’s lives, the way he captivated everyone with those sweet doe eyes (don’t fall for them, Jimin reminds himself nervously). Why did he even come here, of all places? Not that Jimin cares. No, what Jimin cares about is that even his grandparents thought Jeongguk’s produce was spectacular and worthy of a stand at the upcoming farmers’ market.

How could they betray their grandson like this?!

The farmers’ market is one of Jimin’s favourite things about Bloomville. It brings people from all walks of life together; sharing what humans could do with nature and how humans respected nature, the Earth and her fruitions. It celebrates and supports their community.

The vineyard owners, Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung, would bring their delicious bottled wines that they put months of hard work into maturing and perfecting. Jimin is a little bit of a wine aficionado, if he might say so himself, and their meoruju wines are top-notch (better than a typical French Cab-sav or Malbec, really). They also would sell bunches of their plump, succulent grapes.

Kim Doyoung is an apiarist, if you want to get all technical, but Jimin always refers to him as the bee-whisperer. He’d sell sweet, sticky slabs of honeycomb, soap bars and candles made from beeswax and jars of delicious, golden honey. Jimin’s parents make the most scrumptious honey mascarpone cake with it.

Then there are the adventurous foragers, Kim Mingyu and Choi Seungcheol, who gathered all sorts of wild mushrooms from the forests that surrounded Bloomville. Brown beech, king oyster, shingled hedgehog, lion’s head – you want it, you got it. They have a specialty risotto dish that they serve as well made with smoked pine, oyster mushrooms and quail. Totally stunning and worthy of a Michelin star, in Jimin’s opinion.

Not forgetting Lee Taeyong, who caught all sorts of seafood. He lives a little further out, on the other side of the forest, where a river winds through. Yellow catfish, sweetfish, burbots, stone flounders, the works. The fishes would be roasted during the market over open fires, and the scent of crispy skin was absolutely delightful. 

So one can see why Jimin enjoys the farmer’s market. The nuggets of information learned as well as the insightful conversations with people who were ever so passionate about what they did - it’s what Jimin lives for. And see, it’s not that he’s one to make things about money. He has all he needs in life – a sassy best friend, a loving family and fertile land. Of course, all those couldn’t buy him what he really wanted – a trip to Madrid.

That’s all he asks for. A little (alright, maybe it isn’t so little) getaway from Bloomville. As much as he loves his town, he’s never seen the world beyond its perimeters, and has never been in cities! Perhaps that is why a little part of him was jealous of Jeon Jeongguk. He’s heard stories of Jeongguk’s adventures around the world (Hoseok was very gossipy past his third glass of wine), before finally settling in Bloomville. Which is a mystery Jimin has yet to uncover. He doesn’t know why Jeongguk chose little Bloomville to settle down in.

Again, not that he cares. 

What Jimin cares about is winning the annual stand, and mark his words, he will.

71 days to the farmers’ market

The next time Jimin bumps into Jeongguk, the man is lifting several bags of rice into his trolley. They’re in the middle of Balgeun Supermarket and Jimin watches with glazed eyes and a gaping mouth as Jeongguk’s biceps bulge. A crew neck t-shirt has never looked this good... And those tattoos! 

He should probably hightail it out of there before Jeongguk sees him. But the reflexes in his brain are slow when they’re faced with a dire enemy. 

Said dire enemy being bulging biceps wrapped with trailing tattoos of vines and words, of course. 

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

Jimin’s mouth finally snaps close. 

“You’re blocking the path,” Jimin retorts, although what he really wants to say is “Whatever your arm routine is, keep doing it, because your biceps, triceps and forearm muscles are simply divine. Also, hold still so I can read what your tattoo says. God, you’re sexy.”

Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow and glances at the clearly vast amount of space around them. It is after all nine at night, and the market is a ghost town. “I’m blocking the way?” he repeats. His lips press together as though to conceal a smile. 

Jimin is thankful that mind-reading isn’t a thing.

“Yes, because you’re so ridiculously big. Like an ox.” Jimin strides over to peer into his trolley. There’s several packets of banana milk, five boxes of Oreo O’s and a soju six-pack, amongst his many bags of rice. “Ten bags of rice? What do you need so much rice for?”

Jeongguk looks thoroughly amused. “I like to make my supermarket trips worthwhile.”

Under the pretence of peering and rummaging through Jeongguk’s trolley, Jimin’s cheeks finally begin to cool down and the cogs in his brain finally start to turn. Goodness, took them long enough.

“Well, this has been so fun, but like, I’ve got to go, so bye!” Jimin gushes. He manages to take three steps before Jeongguk reaches out to pull him back by his shirt. Jimin all but bounces back.

“Trouble, what’s this?” Jeongguk reaches into his basket. His fingers almost touch Jimin’s French Toast Crunch cereal box. Reflexes kicking in quick for once, Jimin manages to swing his basket out of reach.

“Nothing,” Jimin replies, hastily stowing the box under his packet of Yakult. It, of course, remains in sight. 

“French Toast Crunch?” The taller man’s voice is incredulous. “Where’d you get it?”

Jimin doesn’t like the look in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Cereal aisle. You can look for it there. OK, I really gotta–”

Jeongguk shakes his head vehemently, black hair flopping into his eyes. “Nu uh, no way, I didn’t see no French Toast, just the regular Cinnamon, when I went there just now.”

Of course he didn’t. Jimin had snagged the last box. 

“Yeah, well,” Jimin forces a smile, as he inches away. Jeongguk’s grip had been loosening slowly. “If you go back there now and look reaaally closely, it’ll be right there!”

“Jimin-sshi,” Jeongguk says softly, sweetly. Jimin freezes in his tracks. Don’t look into those eyes, he tells himself sternly. He immediately averts his gaze to his scuffed sneakers. Don’t look!

“Come on… That’s the best cereal,” he continues. His voice drops several octaves lower, and there are shivers running down Jimin’s spine. 

“Yes, it is,” Jimin says pointedly, still refusing to look up. Darn it! Why hadn’t he just run away earlier? “OK, fine, there’s none left. So, too bad.”

“Too bad indeed. Well, you’d be so kind as to give me your box, wouldn’t you?” Jeongguk coaxes. 

Jimin can’t help himself; he lets out a great big snort and almost doubles over in laughter. “Are you outta your mind?” he chortles, glancing up at Jeongguk. Big mistake.

Those pretty doe eyes.

Damn it. 

Jimin is transfixed. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says, his voice deep and his eyes beseeching. “Would you please, please give me your box of French Toast Crunch?”

Those starry brown eyes, the way they bore into Jimin’s soul...  Focus! “No,” Jimin says firmly.

“Please?” Jeongguk’s fingers curl around Jimin’s wrist, thumb stroking the skin softly. 

Holy sweet mackerel. “N-no?” Jimin sounds uncertain of himself now.

“It’s just that… I haven’t had these in years,” Jeongguk says reasonably, pulling Jimin in closer. 

Huh. Close proximity with Jeon Jeongguk is an otherworldly experience. Something about that hard chest, the broad shoulders, the thick thighs – Jimin breathes in slowly – ah, a whiff of orange peel and cedarwood; how manly, how seductive. 

“Jimin-sshi…”

“I suppose you could have it,” Jimin murmurs. 

“Ah, really?” Jeongguk’s smile is so sweet. Maybe he isn’t such a bad person after all… Because how can a person with such an angelic smile be a bad person?

“Y-yeah… you can have it.” Hypnotised, unable to tear his gaze away, Jimin reaches into his basket and picks the cereal box up. 

“Jimin-sshi, you’re too kind.” Jeongguk plucks the box from Jimin’s fingers and plops it into his own trolley. And then, with the very same hand, he grasps Jimin’s chin ever so gently and tilts Jimin’s head back. His gaze is dark, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips.

“I’ll have a lovely breakfast all thanks to you,” the taller man says seriously. “Ah, I’m so grateful! Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you around, Jimin-sshi!”

Within seconds, Jeongguk is pushing his trolley away, the box of French Toast Crunch standing proudly atop the rest of his groceries like a trophy. Jimin is rooted to the ground, muscles frozen and brain completely jammed, even more so than when he had been witnessing Jeongguk lifting all those heavy bags of rice. 

How long he stands there, he has absolutely no idea.

“Jimin-ah?”

Jimin blinks and wakes out of his stupor. “Yes?” he says stupidly, looking round.

Mr. Kang is peering at him through his half-moon spectacles. “We’re closing the shop in 10 minutes. Would you like to pay for your items?” he asks kindly. 

Jimin flushes. “Ah, yes, ahjusshi, of course,” he says hastily, stumbling his way to the counter.

No way he’d been standing there for an hour…

As Mr Kang scans his items, Jimin thinks about his darling cereal that had just been sacrificed. Was he that easy? Could he really be so easily persuaded, so easily seduced? It’s embarrassing. He stares forlornly at his groceries sans the French Toast Crunch.

He’d been so excited to have them for breakfast the next day…

“Thank you, ahjusshi, sorry to keep you here so late. Rest well!” Jimin calls, as he walks out of Balgeun. 

“Goodnight, Jimin-ah! ”

As Jimin makes his way to his bicycle, he distinctly recalls the way Jeongguk had felt against him, the warmth emanating from him… How could Jimin allow himself to fall for all that? Worst of all, how could he actually have succumbed and given his arch nemesis a beloved good?

Frowning, he stows his groceries into the basket clipped to the front of his bicycle. As he cycles through the town, he passes by Nutmeg Hill, Jeongguk’s little blue house winking mischievously at him from atop. 

And then, all of a sudden, a great idea strikes him.

Jimin shows up at Nutmeg Hill a little past seven. He’s already checked on his mugworts and water parsleys, which have thankfully survived the rather chilly night. He’d then taken a nice stroll through the town, greeting his fellow neighbours who were stretching on their front porches. He knocks on the tuscan sun yellow door with three smart raps.

No one answers. 

He knocks once more. He hears a muffled “coming!” from within.

Jimin takes his time to admire the pink syngoniums and emerald green philodendrons on the front step. He hates to admit it, but Jeongguk clearly has great taste. The white and turquoise faceted cement pots are gorgeous and complimented the plants beautifully. 

The door finally swings open. 

“Trouble?” Jeongguk says in disbelief.

“Ah, good morning, Jeongguk-sshi!” Jimin chirps, straightening up and tearing his eyes away from the houseplants. “See, I was thin-”

Jimin stops mid-sentence as he registers the man standing before him. Jeongguk is dressed – or rather, not at all – in a pair of navy blue boxers that sit low on his hips, with a toothbrush in hand. 

Jimin once had the lovely opportunity to see Jeongguk’s bare chest last summer. It had been a fleeting glimpse, but Jimin could not rid his brain of the sight of perspiration-covered abdominals. Now, up close, Jimin can see a sun tattooed on Jeongguk’s right pectoral.

His awfully large pectoral.

His gaze trails down the tapering of Jeongguk’s waist, his Adonis belt prominent, and he almost chokes on his saliva when he sees Jeongguk’s toned thighs.

“Ever heard of clothes?” Jimin says dumbly. He forces himself to look up into Jeongguk’s face. The shock is still written all over that gorgeous, gorgeous face (even with toothpaste foam on it). Jimin feels equally as shocked.

“I literally just got out of bed. What the heck are you doing here?” Jeongguk asks, his words slightly muffled, as he speaks around his toothbrush. “Ah, hold on–”

He leaves the door open and jogs back into the house, presumably to rinse his mouth. Jimin gazes at the taller man’s back and wonders how his own pants are still on. Like seriously. Maybe Jimin should forget about being enemies. He doesn’t stand a chance, not when his willpower is this weak. 

“Can you close the door?” Jeongguk calls before disappearing into the bathroom.

After some time, Jimin’s feet finally unglue from the floor. His brain doesn’t appreciate being attacked like this again. God, what is this heaty flush that’s going down his neck? It is a good 16 degrees out here. Yet it feels like a sauna, for his cheeks are burning along with his neck. 

Jimin trails after Jeongguk and pauses in the hallway, as the door swings shut behind him. He ponders for a moment – what if he simply walked into the bathroom and demanded Jeongguk make sweet, sweet love to him? 

Then he remembers Jeongguk is his mortal enemy who’s stolen his French Toast Crunch and dignity (as well as his sanity and a fraction of his heart). And as muscular as that man is, Jimin himself is a man with a mission. 

He turns on his heel and heads for the kitchen. It’s bright, sunlight streaming in through the large glass windows. From here, Jimin can see a portion of Jeongguk’s back garden. Some of his crops are covered, the more hardy ones exposed. His greenhouse windows are already open and Jimin spies strawberry and cherry plants. 

Perfect. After breakfast, Jimin could take another leisurely stroll and note down all of Jeongguk’s secrets. But for now –

Jimin pulls the pantry door open. In his mind, he imagines light spilling from within, like the gateway to heaven. There it is, amongst the army of Oreo O’s and banana Choco Pies – his precious French Toast Crunch. 

He reaches forward and snags the box, cackling to himself. 

“Here comes the sun, doo-do doo-do, here comes the sun and Iii say–” Jimin sings to himself as he dances around Jeongguk’s kitchen, grabbing a baby blue bowl and the milk carton from the refrigerator. “It’s alright, it’s alright-”

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Jimin shrieks, spilling milk on the counter and all over himself. He spins round to glare at Jeongguk, who has thankfully put some clothes on. He fills out his black sweatshirt beautifully. Jimin isn’t sure if he preferred Jeongguk with running shorts on or without. Either way, he still looks positively delectable.

“You scared me,” Jimin says defiantly, after he’s done checking Jeongguk out.

Jeongguk snorts. He retrieves a dish cloth from one of the drawers and mops up the mess on the counter. “I scared you? You literally showed up at my front door with no warning whatsoever and look, you’re now eating my food without asking me for permission first.”

Jimin shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. In the back of his mind, he’s experiencing a thrilling culinary journey of sweet maple, milky, crunchy morsels. Unfortunately, he’s too distracted by the six feet of argumentative muscle before him. 

“Might I remind you that this is actually my cereal that you coerced me into giving to you?”

“Was it really coercion when you said I could have it and actually handed it to me yourself?” Jeongguk asks, smirking. He leans over and grabs the box to pour himself a portion.

“You’re right. It was hoodwinking! Witchcraft!” Jimin exclaims, pointing his spoon accusingly toward the taller man. “You’re a… you’re a seducer!” 

Jeongguk grabs the hand Jimin is waving about. His large hand engulfs Jimin’s; Jimin can’t help the flush that spreads across his cheeks. 

“Are you saying I seduced you?” Jeongguk’s grin is cheeky, playful. Jimin hates it at the same time that he loves it. 

“No. You’re my rival,” Jimin says stubbornly, wrestling his hand out of Jeongguk’s grip. 

“Then why are you here?” Jeongguk asks. He eats a spoonful of the cereal and his eyes drift shut. “God, this is so good.”

Jimin is momentarily stunned as Jeongguk lets out a moan, completely unashamed. He eats his cereal enthusiastically, his eyebrows furrowed with passion. 

“Best cereal ever,” Jeongguk says, finally opening his eyes and grinning at Jimin, whose brain has clearly short-circuited. “If you don’t finish your bowl, trouble, I’m gonna take it.”

Jimin doesn’t respond as Jeongguk leans over to snag his bowl.

Jeongguk - 2.

Jimin - 0.

“Well, this has been strangely entertaining and I’d love to continue hanging, but I’m headed out for a run right now,” Jeongguk announces. 

He had made Jimin do the dishes as he blitzed a protein shake for himself and strapped on some ankle weights.

“That is very unbecoming of a farmer,” Jimin says severely. “You should be pruning your garden, checking your leaves and soil!”

“I already did. Why don’t you head on home and worry about your own garden?” Jeongguk calls as he disappears into his living room.

Now was his only chance!

Jimin spins on his heel and reaches for the back door, carefully pushing the door open to avoid any sudden noises. Jeongguk’s garden is lush – he has elevated planter boxes of lavenders and delphiniums, green onions and chives. He’s got some cucumber and squash plants growing from the ground, trellises already in place. However, it’s the greenhouse Jimin really wants to check out. What wonders could Jeongguk possibly be hiding?

He only manages to step one foot into the garden before he’s being plucked up and tossed back into the kitchen. 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrows raised. He shuts the back door and turns to stare Jimin down.

“I was going to help you,” Jimin lies. 

Jeongguk snorts. “Sure, you were. Will you stop sneaking round my house? Come on, let’s go.” 

He doesn’t let go of Jimin’s shirt until they’re finally on the street. “Yah,” he starts off.

Jimin glares at him. “I am your hyung,” he says through gritted teeth.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath in and puts a smile on his face. “Jimin-hyung. As pretty as your face is, I don’t want to see it peering at me from the dark when I return home later. Araso?” 

He boops Jimin on the nose and his smile turns a little more… well, fond. He begins to jog away. 

“Have a good week, Jimin-hyung!” he shouts.

Jimin watches as Jeongguk jogs away, his figure eventually turning into a tiny dot. Jimin’s nose is tingling from where Jeongguk had booped him, his face warm after encountering that fond, sweet smile of Jeon Jeongguk and those flirtatious words… 

Ah… and he didn’t even finish his bowl of French Toast Crunch. Jimin is going to have to rethink his strategies.

67 days to the farmers' market

Jimin beams at his basket of bamboo shoots and bomdong cabbages. His grandparents will be ever so pleased! His cabbages are beautiful open flowers, pale yellow and green, and he can hardly believe how large they’ve become since he first planted them last year. It’s a pity he wouldn’t be able to sell them during the farmer’s market as they are best harvested in March, but at least he could enjoy them with his family.

He whistles as he cycles through the town. He stops for a while to pet Kim Mingyu’s ginger cat, curled up on the brick wall outside his house. The air is crisp, his grandpa would make fresh kimchi salad and they’d eat in the garden  – his life is a movie.

“Halmeoni! Halabeoji!” Jimin calls. He parks his bike and hops up the stairs leading to his grandparents’ house. “I brought my bomdong! We can have salad!”

He unlocks the front door, balancing his crate of precious cabbages in his free arm, and pushes the door open with his hip. He inhales deeply. He’s always loved the smell of his grandparents’ house – so homely, so comforting. 

“Your favourite grandchild is hereeee!” 

Jimin bursts into the kitchen. Nothing could have prepared him for what was to come and he gawks at the sight before him. Jeon Jeongguk is standing next to his grandmother at the stove, carefully slicing spring onions as they laugh together. 

“What are you doing here?” Jimin squawks. His voice breaks a little at the end. He slams his crate down onto the kitchen counter, wincing internally when his cabbages bounce and flop. 

Jeongguk smiles at him. “Jimin-sshi,” he greets pleasantly. “I was just dropping off some bomdong cabbages for your grandparents, I think Mr. Park mentioned he makes a mean fresh kimchi salad, and Mrs. Park asked me to stay for lunch.”

Jimin’s grandmother nudges him playfully. “Ah, Jeongguk-ah, please, call me halmeoni,” she says warmly, as she tosses some green peppers and soy sauce together in a bowl. “Jimin-ah, I’m making samgyetang for lunch. Come and stuff the chickens.”

“Halmeoni!” Jimin whines, his lower lip jutting in a pout. “I brought you my bomdong too. How can you take Jeongguk’s? He’s my competitor!” 

His grandmother pinches his cheek. “Of course, we’ll use yours too. We’ll make a big batch and you can bring some home for your parents and Hoseok as well. I’m going to see what your grandfather is up to… Stuff the chickens, boys, and then I’ll get on with making our lunch.”

The moment she’s out of the kitchen, Jimin rounds on Jeongguk. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.

Jeongguk grabs a cornish hen and plops it into his hands. He grabs one for himself. “Doesn’t feel so great, now, does it? Being snuck up on and surprised?” 

Jimin’s jaw drops. “You mean to say that this is to teach me a lesson?” 

“You agree that there is a lesson to be learnt, then?” Jeongguk has a glint in his eye as he takes a handful of glutinous rice and stuffs it into the hen. He glances at Jimin, who is watching him disdainfully, and his expression softens. “I really did want to give them some bomdong. They’ve been kind and welcoming to me. It’s the least I could do.”

“You couldn’t have given them something else?” Jimin asks stubbornly, as he too takes a handful of rice. 

“My bomdong is great, I couldn’t resist sharing them. They might be even better than yours, trouble,” Jeongguk teases, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Look at them.”

Jimin snorts. “Oh, I highly doubt that,” he says waspishly, leaning over to look at where Jeongguk is gesturing. Well, the cabbages are definitely larger than Jimin’s. 

“Hmph. Bigger doesn’t always mean better,” Jimin snarks, aggressively stuffing the chicken.

“I could think of a few ways to prove you wrong about that,” Jeongguk counters, his tone suggestive and eyes mischievously dark.

Jimin chokes. “E-excuse me?”

“Ah, just look at the two of you!”

Jimin’s grandparents walk into the kitchen, fond smiles on their faces. The two of them spin around in surprise; Jimin’s face flushed red at Jeongguk’s brazenness, Jeongguk himself carefully arranging his expression into one of neutrality.

“I didn’t know you were so close,” Jimin’s grandfather says, his eyes crinkling into half-moons as he beams at them. 

“Of course,” Jeongguk says, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. If possible, Jimin’s face turns even redder at their now close contact. 

“I’m glad you’ve moved on from your animosity,” Jimin’s grandmother says as she places the hens into a large pot along with some ginseng and jujubes. 

“He’s got nothing but love for me now, I’ll say, halmeoni.” Jeongguk glances down at Jimin, whose mouth is hanging open in disbelief, and winks at him.

Jimin forces a smile. “Yeah, haha,” he echoes. “Love.”

“Why’d you bring home enough salad to feed the army?” 

Hoseok and Jimin stare at the large container. Despite only using half the amount of cabbages from both Jimin and Jeongguk, the end yield had been far too much for the four of them to finish. As a result, Jimin’s grandparents had them dutifully pack the remaining salad into containers and deliver them to all their neighbours. 

Jimin groans. “If Jeon Jeongguk hadn’t brought his big, fat cabbages over, maybe we wouldn’t have had this problem!” he exclaims, thoroughly riled. 

He’d been riled all throughout lunch, as he sat next to Jeongguk and painfully endured his grandparents complimenting the other boy on his garden, his manners, his charm, his talent – there had been no end! And what’s worse – Jeongguk had simply sat there, drinking words of praise, ego growing bigger and bigger as his smug smile.

Jimin wanted to kiss it right off of his face!

He shakes his head and slaps himself. Kiss? He means smack! 

Hoseok gawps at him. “Are you OK, Jimin-ah?” he asks nervously. 

Jimin looks round at him, cheek stinging slightly. He clears his throat. “Y-yes, I’m fine. Just fine.” 

Totally fine.

57 days to the farmers' market

It’s one of those days Jimin can’t seem to focus on his work. He trips over the hose multiple times, he almost accidentally fertilises the asparagus although he had already done so two days ago, and he can’t seem to get a certain individual off of his mind.

“Maybe we can spy on him.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He freezes, and glances over at Hoseok, who is pruning the mugworts. The man looks up and lifts an eyebrow. 

“Just kidding!” Jimin pretends to giggle and averts his gaze. 

Hoseok purses his lips. “I know you’re not kidding,” he states. “Let’s do it.”

Jimin loves Hoseok. There’s a reason why they’re best friends after all. And that’s how half an hour later finds them sneaking up Nutmeg Hill. 

“Are you sure he won’t be home?” Hoseok hisses. “The gate is unlocked.” 

“Positive. He usually goes for a run and then grabs coffee from Johnny’s… Maybe he forgot to lock it?” 

They push the side gate open and stealthily creep in. His garden has grown a lot more since Jimin was last there. They crouch behind a wheelbarrow, peeking over the top to survey the site.

Jimin gasps, his eyes widening to the size of saucer plates when his gaze lands on the cantaloupe patch. The foliage is thick and bushy, climbing the trellis wildly, and the flowers large and bright yellow. It is evident the fruit will begin to form soon, and be ready for harvest just in time for the farmer’s market.

“How are his melon flowers that big already?” he asks, his voice strangled. 

“You know what they say, Jiminnie,” Hoseok says solemnly. “Like farmer, like melon.”

Jimin chokes on his saliva. “W-what are you trying to imply here?” he hisses.

Hoseok shrugs. “You’ve seen the size of his biceps. I imagine whatever he feeds himself, he feeds these melons,” he declares. “They take after their nurturer.”

Jimin snorts. “You’re right. He probably bench-presses alongside the plants, channels all his gym bro personality into them.” He mimes lifting some barbells. 

“O-or, hehe, he makes protein shakes for them, too!” Hoseok giggles.  

“Every day is leg day with these melons,” Jimin says in a fake macho voice. “HUUU-”

“Talking about my melons?”

Both Jimin and Hoseok shriek, clutching each other as they spin around. 

Jeongguk folds his arms across his chest, eyebrows raised inquisitively. His cotton white t-shirt is thin, soaked with perspiration, and it’s fitting, stretching across his broad shoulders. Jimin can’t help but to stare at his pronounced pectorals.

“I thought I said I didn’t want any more surprises?” 

“You said you didn’t want to see my pretty face peering at you from the darkness. A, it’s not dark. B, it’s not just my face, it’s our faces-” Jimin presses his cheek to Hoseok’s - “-and C… do you really not want to see my pretty face?”

Jimin blinks innocently, pouting his lips exaggeratedly. He had put on lots of his Glossier wild fig lip balm before they had left the house and he’s positive his lips must be all pink and glossy. Jeongguk’s gaze flickers to his lips, a dangerous fire glinting in his eyes.

Score.

It was about time he capitalised on his best feature!

“You’re still spying on my garden,” Jeongguk says, voice suddenly husky and deeper than usual. Jimin is hit by a juggernaut of lust. No, he means hatred. Corrected: he’s been hit by a juggernaut of hatred.

Right?

“Well, you’re still neglecting your garden,” Jimin counters, stepping forward till he’s an inch away from the other. He pokes Jeongguk in the chest, pretending it doesn’t actually hurt when he’s met with hard muscle.

“You seem to have a predilection for my garden. You’re really that concerned about it, trouble?” Jeongguk asks, leaning down to stare Jimin in the eyes and grabbing the accusing hand. 

Jimin swallows. He’d long forgotten the mantra of not looking into those darn eyes. Right now, with the sunlight reflecting, Jeongguk’s pretty brown eyes glimmer, like gold dust from a magic spell.

Jimin’s enraptured, and he can’t help but to lick his lips. Jeongguk’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue. 

“Are you?” he repeats, voice still deep, when Jimin fails to answer.

Jimin tilts his head experimentally. Curiously enough, Jeongguk follows.

“Um, I’m still here, by the way.”

Both Jeongguk and Jimin start in surprise, turning to look at Hoseok, who is watching them with an entertained but disgusted look. 

“I don’t know what kind of mating call this is but it’s beginning to get a little hot out and I don’t want to stay and watch, thanks,” Hoseok says. 

“You can go home, Hobi. I’ve got a bone to pick with Mr. Jeon Jeongguk-sshi.”

Hoseok sighs. “Why did I even bother coming here?” he mutters to himself as he walks away.

Jeongguk looks exasperated, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “What bone do you have to pick with me?” He wants to know. 

Jimin pauses. “Um. Um… I came to tell you… To please stop bribing my grandparents,” he says lamely. He slowly inches away from Jeongguk and walks further into the garden.

Jeongguk follows after him. “Bribing? I wasn’t bribing them. I told you, I wanted to repay them,” he tells Jimin, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jimin peers at the melon patch. “If you say so. How did you get your flowers so big already?” 

Jeongguk is taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “Well, I planted some bluebells and euphorbias to attract bees and I use organic compost – Hold on, why am I telling you all this?” he asks suspiciously.

“Because you want me to do well for the farmers’ market too?” Jimin answers sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes and turning up the watts of his smile.

Jeongguk stares at him for the longest time before finally sighing. “Will you get off my back if I show you round my garden?”

Jimin beams at him. “Yessir!”

“You drive me crazy, trouble, you really do.”

44 days to the farmer’s market

winetae 3.08pm

Headed to mago tonight!! See u guys there?

parksquash 3.35pm

omG yes pls!! Need a break. See u heehekekekekhek

“Hobi! Taehyung said they’ll be at Mago tonight. Shall we?” Jimin chirps, shimmying his body back and forth.

Hoseok lets out an excited gasp, as he looks up from the chopping board. He had been chopping stinging nettle. Unfortunately, in the morning, Jimin had discovered that a section of the garden had been invaded by aphids. Jimin had immediately gone foraging for wild stinging nettle to salvage the situation.

It left him feeling panicked and exhausted. He’d have to keep a closer eye on the garden for the next few days. On top of that, he could not rid his mind of his rival. 

Or could he even call Jeongguk that anymore?

After Jeongguk had shown him through his little farm, Jimin’s been in a bit of a pickle. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the conversation that carried throughout nor to divulge his own little farming secrets and tips. He could see how much Jeongguk loved the hard work of growing fruits and vegetables, how much he cared for the produce to be pesticide- and chemical-free, and how much he liked to provide for the community.

He discovers that Jeongguk enjoys the peaceful quiet of the mornings in the garden, just the same as Jimin does.

He definitely has strong feelings towards Jeongguk — but it seems that they might no longer be feelings of negativity and dislike…

Jimin couldn’t thank Taehyung for a more timely invitation to Mago, one of Bloomville’s bars. Owned by Jung Eunbi and Choi Yuna, the jazzy bar is mostly frequented by the young adults of their town. Jimin hasn’t been in a while as he has been busy, but he thinks he and Hoseok can finally afford a night out.

“I’ll mix the nettle with water and we can spray the garden tomorrow, Jiminnie. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Let’s go get ready!” Hoseok squeals. 

They spend the remainder of their afternoon relaxing and drinking apple custard tea with face masks on. After dinner, they dress up for the night. Jimin can’t resist putting on his sheer black shirt and high-waisted pants, and even puts a little eyeshadow on. Together with his beret, he knows he’s looking real cute.

“Do you think Taehyung invited Jeongguk?” 

Jimin is halfway through drawing his eyeliner when Hoseok asks that. His hand jerks and he ends up drawing off-tangent. “Why would he?” he chokes out, as he grabs a makeup wipe to remove the mess. 

Hoseok is already ready, lounging on the sofa in his mustard yellow top and dark blue pants. He’s scrolling through his phone, foot shaking in tune to Taylor Swift’s Cruel Summer that’s blaring out of the speaker.

“I dunno. Cos he’s a 25-year old and Mago is where other 20-something-year olds hang?” 

Jimin flushes, thinking about seeing Jeongguk at Mago. “Well… hopefully he’s too busy exercising to come.”

He isn’t. 

Jimin is chatting excitedly with Taehyung, whom he hasn’t met in a rather long time. He feels a bit more relaxed after his fig and vanilla vodka cocktail, laughing at one of Taehyung’s stories when a shadow falls across the table.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep voice drawls from behind Jimin.

Taehyung looks up first. “No, it isn’t,” he says pleasantly, a smile gracing his features.

Someone big and broad slides into the booth seat next to Jimin. He distractedly turns away from Taehyung to face the newcomer. 

It’s Jeongguk.

“Yes, this seat is taken,” Jimin says, sobering up immediately, his lips feeling numb. 

Jeongguk’s navy blue shirt has the first few buttons undone, and once more, Jimin is face-first with that stupid chest. What’s worse, he can see part of the tattooed sun peeking out.

“Oh, yeah? By who?” Jeongguk asks tauntingly. In the dim lights of the bar, he is strangely sexier. He had obviously done his hair and he smells absolutely enticing, the orange peel scent doing things to Jimin.

“By Hoseok,” Jimin says automatically, forcing himself to look away from the sliver of Jeongguk’s sun tattoo. If he stares any longer, he might start drooling.

The side of Jeongguk’s mouth quirks up. “He looks a little busy, if you ask me.” He gestures to the dance floor, where Hoseok is dancing exuberantly with Min Yoongi and Lee Taeyong. 

“Don’t you have barbells to lift? Laps to run? Weights to pull?” Jimin takes a sip of his cocktail nervously. 

“All done.” He flashes Jimin a smile and then beckons Yuna over. “Can I have whatever he’s having?” He points at Jimin’s drink.

“Sure thing!”

“Wow. Do you even know what’s in there?” Taehyung asks.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Beats me. So, what were you two talking about?” 

Jimin looks at Taehyung, who seems just as surprised at Jeongguk’s sudden appearance. “Tae. Did you invite him?”

The other man shakes his head. “Not that I have a problem with you being here, of course,” he says smoothly. 

Yuna arrives with another fig and vanilla cocktail. Jeongguk thanks her before taking a sip and smacking his lips in satisfaction.

“Mm, delightful. You’ve got good taste, trouble. Anyway, Hoseok is the one who invited me.”

Jimin’s eyes bug out of his head. “Hoseok?” 

“It’s not a problem, right? That I’m here?” Jeongguk asks, making himself more comfortable. He leans back in his seat and rests a hand on Jimin’s thigh. Taehyung looks thoroughly entertained.

Jimin laughs nervously, his leg burning from where Jeongguk is touching him. 

“Aha. Nope, not at all,” he says weakly.

Many cocktails and shots later, Jimin is a force to be reckoned with on the dance floor. All of Bloomville is all too familiar with what happens when Park Jimin has had his fifth shot. He’s a firecracker ball of energy, dancing with anyone who’ll dance with him and singing so loud the crowd isn’t sure there’s even music playing at all.

At half past one, he finally slumps against Jeongguk, whom he had been dancing with. Jeongguk had been a fantastic sport, his relentless energy matching Jimin’s. Jimin is dizzy and drunk, and Jeongguk’s pretty eyes and dazzling grin hadn’t been helping. He’d been on fire but now he’s properly run out of energy and his legs feel like jelly.

“Jeonggukkieee. Carry me home,” he mumbles.

“How are you still so demanding when you’re this shitfaced?” Jeongguk asks in amusement. 

But to his credit, Jeongguk crouches in front of him. Jimin falls forward and Jeongguk catches him, hands gripping him by the back of his thighs firmly. He stands with ease. Jimin is so out of it he hardly notices Hoseok and Taehyung cackling and giggling at him. 

“See you tomorrow, Hobi!” he yells, waving and smiling stupidly at his friends. “Bye, Tae!”

The cool breeze hits him as Jeongguk steps outside. It feels nice against his skin and he snuggles closer against Jeongguk’s broad back. 

“You’re on Cornelia Crescent, right?” Jeongguk asks. 

“Mmhm. That’s the oooone,” Jimin slurs. “Number thirteeeen on Crosnelia Cornscent.”

Jeongguk chuckles as he makes his way toward Jimin’s home. It’s quiet, most of Bloomville already asleep except for the cicadas. 

“You must be excited for the farmers’ market. I know I am, it’s my first spring one,” Jeongguk says. 

Jimin doesn’t know why but he begins to tear up. “I’m not,” he sniffles. “Everything is going bad. Aphids have invaded my garden and I don’t know what else to sell besides my produce, which isn’t enough because everyone goes all out for the markets and produce alone just won’t cut it!”

By the time he’s finished his sentence, he’s full out bawling against Jeongguk’s back, tears soaking his shirt. Jeongguk stops in the middle of the street, turning his head to look back at Jimin in concern.

“Jimin-hyung. Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Of course I’m not okay!” Jimin cries. “And then there’s you with your perfect flowers and blooms! Even my grandparents think you’re better!”

Jeongguk sighs. “I really doubt that. They love you a lot, I can tell. Come on, I'm sure you know how to deal with aphids, you're a seasoned farmer!"

"Of course, I knoooow!" Jimin wails. "I went and got stinging nettle, but I could've just done without all this happening to meeeee!"

"See, you already have a solution. You don't have to worry about it but for now, you can let it out, OK, hyung? You’ll be alright.”

Jimin continues to sniffle throughout the journey home. He doesn’t know how Jeongguk is still willingly carrying him while providing a listening ear and then offering him advice. If he had been Jeongguk, he’d have dumped himself on the street and gone back home.

“Trouble. Do you have your key? How do I open the door?” Jeongguk asks gently when they reach his place. 

“It’s under the monstera pot,” Jimin mumbles. 

He’s beyond exhausted, sticky with perspiration and tears. He doesn’t know how Jeongguk manages to find his bedroom but he does, letting him down gently before exiting the room. After struggling to get out of his clothes, he finally flops down into his bed. Jeongguk returns shortly with a mug of apple custard tea. Even in this state, Jimin can recognise the scent of his favourite tea.

“H-how’d you know I l-love this tea?” he hiccups, managing to take a few sips. 

“It’s the only tea in your pantry, trouble.”

Jimin drifts in and out of sleep after that and at one point, he knows Jeongguk is attempting to wipe his makeup off, his movements ever so tender. He fumbles to grab Jeongguk’s wrist.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispers. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

Jeongguk gently prises his wrist out of Jimin’s grip to continue cleaning his face. “Well, I hope you don’t anymore,” he says softly. 

Jimin tries to look at him, he really does. But his eyelids are so heavy and a part of him he wants to sink into the sleep that is calling his name. Then there’s another part of him that wishes to be awake with Jeongguk, whose presence had been strangely comforting.

“I… don’t. You’re not so bad, after all.” The words are soft and jumbled and in the darkness, he thinks he sees Jeongguk’s soft, sweet smile. “Y-you… make me feel…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. The last thing he remembers before finally falling asleep is Jeongguk’s gentle fingers against his forehead.

42 days to the farmers' market

“Yes, eomma, I’ll be there after lunch. I know, I’ve just been really busy. I’ll see you later, OK? Yes, yes, I’ll bring the kumquats. Love you!”

Jimin hangs up. He was to head to his parents’ bakery after lunch, as he hadn’t been in quite a while. He’d spent the weekend in solitude, forbidding even Hoseok to come and work. He sprayed the stinging nettle solution on to the garden himself and was extra diligent in checking the rest of his leaves and soil. 

Why had he spent the weekend in solitude, you might ask?

Well… Jimin is recovering from a strong case of embarrassment. When he had woken on Saturday morning, head pounding and mouth dry, he’d been surprised to find two aspirin tablets and a glass of water on his bedside table.

After downing the water, it had all slowly come back to him. Dancing with Jeongguk, Jeongguk carrying him home, Jeongguk making him tea, Jeongguk removing his makeup…

Jeongguk Jeongguk Jeongguk.

He buries his face in his hands. Even now, he’s still not over it. He vaguely remembers all the nonsense he had spewed out, but one thing he was certain about was that he had cried. 

How embarrassing could he get?

After wallowing in self-pity during the weekend, he finally made plans to visit his parents. If there is something that could comfort him, well, it was carbohydrates!

(And definitely not Jeon Jeongguk.)

When Jimin reaches his parents’ bakery, he isn’t surprised to find it crowded. He slides in behind the counter after greeting his parents and immediately helps with ringing up the orders for the customers queueing. After an hour, the crowd finally thins out. Most of the bread and pastries are gone, but there’s still a strawberry cheesecake danish that Jimin had been eyeing, as well as some other items.

Jimin turns away to grab a quick sip of water and when he turns back, no one other than Jeon Jeongguk is standing before him. He spits out the water.

“What are you doing here?” he splutters.

Jeongguk looks bemused at being drenched in Jimin’s spittle. “I wanted some bread,” he says dryly.

“Jiminnie! You didn’t tell me Jeongguk was coming.” His mother comes bustling out of the kitchen, smiling kindly at Jeongguk.

“Hello, Mrs. Park!” The taller man bows politely.

“My parents told me you brought cabbages for them. We had the salad, it was fantastic,” she gushes. 

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Eomma, half of it were my cabbages too!” he whines. She waves a hand dismissively. 

“Please, Jeongguk-ah, help yourself! Don’t worry about paying, alright?” she says warmly. 

Jeongguk thanks her profusely, his smile clearly making his mother giggle even more. Jimin resists the urge to roll his eyes. How could his mother be so easily charmed?

Then he remembers all the times he’d fallen for Jeongguk’s sparkly eyes and enchanting smile. He supposes he isn’t one to talk.

“Well, what would you like, then?” Jimin asks, feeling rather miffed. He wonders if Jeongguk remembers anything that happened that day. So far, he’s acting normally. 

“Can I get the strawberry cheesecake danish, please?” Jeongguk asks. “And a country loaf as well.”

“No,” Jimin says in horror. 

“I’m sorry… No?” Jeongguk repeats after him, looking confused.

“Yeah, no. The danish is already reserved,” Jimin says quickly. 

His mother frowns. “No, it isn’t. What are you talking about?”

Jimin glares at both of them. “Yes, it is. I reserved it. It’s mine,” he says stubbornly. 

Mrs. Park smacks him on the arm, looking scandalised. “You rascal! You’ve eaten enough cheesecake danishes in this lifetime! How can you deny our customer something he wants?” she scolds.

Jeongguk gives him puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah, how can you do that, hyung?” he asks cutely.

Letting out a tiny scream of frustration, Jimin relents and boxes the last strawberry cheesecake danish, together with the country loaf. “Fine. You can have it. Goodbye.”

He slides the box across the counter toward Jeongguk before storming away from the counter and into the kitchen. His father is peeling the kumquats he had brought.

“Everything alright, Jiminnie?” his father calls. 

Jimin forces a smile as he grabs some loose items to put back in their original location. “Yes, everything’s fine!”

“Jimin-ah!” His mother bursts back into the kitchen. “Why did you leave Jeongguk outside? What are you doing in here?” 

She grabs him by the arms and forces him to put the ingredients in his hands down. “You don’t have to do any of this. You work so hard on your own farm! Come on, go and enjoy the day with Jeongguk,” she says firmly. 

“N-no, ma, it’s fine, I don’t-” he protests weakly. 

His pleas fall on deaf ears as his mother steers him back out into the shop. Jeongguk is still standing there.

“Thank you for the kumquats, Jiminnie. Remember, dinner tomorrow night at our house. See you then, OK? Have fun, you two!” she calls before returning back to the kitchen. The door slams shut behind her.

Jeongguk grins cheekily at him. “Shall we?”

Jimin reluctantly follows after him. There seems to be no destination in mind as they trail through the town mindlessly. Jeongguk hums quietly under his breath. The air feels thick and Jimin can’t stand it.

“Please forget everything that happened that night!” he bursts out. Jeongguk stops in his tracks and looks back at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“Oh?”

“Please, just erase your memory! Let’s never talk about what happened, we can go back to being rivals,” Jimin begs.

Jeongguk bursts into laughter. Jimin hates the way his heart flutters at the sound of it. “Ah, trouble. You’re so cute. How could I possibly want to be your rival?”

He opens the box and takes the strawberry cheesecake out gently. He holds it out to Jimin, his smile tender. “Here you go. You can have it.”

Jimin squints at him. “You don’t want it?” he asks suspiciously.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I want you to have it.”

“But why?”

“I owe you. For the French Toast Crunch.” 

Something about his smile makes Jimin think it isn’t about the French Toast Crunch. Nevertheless, Jimin takes a big bite out of the danish. It’s tough eating food in front of Jeon Jeongguk – you’re too distracted by the man to truly enjoy your meal. 

“You can have a bite,” Jimin says after a while.

Jeongguk leans forward and takes a quick bite. “Delicious,” he says after swallowing. With his face an inch away from Jimin’s, he grins. Jimin ignores the way his heartbeat quickens.

“Don’t mistake this as a kindness. We’re still rivals, OK?” Jimin finishes the rest of the danish so that he can glare at Jeongguk in peace.

“Sure, trouble. Whatever you want.”

31 days to the farmers' market

Jimin finally has ideas for the market. He has a month left to do all the research and development he needs, and with the aphids finally gone from his garden, his confidence is boosted.

“Jiminnie, I’m here!” Hoseok calls as he walks through the front door. “What are you up to?”

“I’ve decided to R&D some melon and strawberry popsicles. I need to be different, jam won’t cut it…” Jimin tells him. “I’m also pickling chwinamul. The ahjummas will love it, I’m sure.”

Hoseok hums contemplatively. “I hear that Jeongguk is making kombucha.” 

Jimin stops in his tracks. “He’s making kombucha?” he repeats in disbelief. “Like his own kombucha.”

Hoseok nods. “Strawberry watermelon. That’s the one…” 

“How pretentious. Kombucha. Who the heck even drinks kombucha?” Jimin huffs as he mashes the strawberries in his bowl with rage. How could Jeongguk one-up him like this?!

“Plenty of people,” Hoseok chirps, reaching over to snag a slice of melon. As he opens his mouth to pop the fruit in, Jimin notices his tongue. Or rather, the colour of his tongue.

It’s vibrantly cherry-coloured. 

“Hobi-ah… ” Jimin’s voice sounds distant even to his own ears. “Why is your tongue all red?”

The elder boy’s mouth closes around the melon. It’s as though time slows down – the way Hoseok falls back, footstep heavy on the ground, the way his eyes widen. “A-aren’t all tongues red?” he stammers.

“Yah… Jung Hoseok… DID YOU DRINK JEON JEONGGUK’S KOMBUCHA?” 

Jimin lunges for him, brandishing his wooden spoon as though to stab the other man. Hoseok leaps back, a high-pitched shriek escaping from him as the wooden spoon just barely brushes his shirt. 

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok whines. “I was passing by and he offered me a glass, I couldn’t say no!”

“He’s our rival!” Jimin whines back. Hoseok grabs him and shakes him hard.

“Not our, Jiminnie. Yours. I’m totally cool with the guy.”

“Yes, so cool that you invited him to Mago that night,” Jimin says stiffly, finally putting the wooden spoon down.

Hoseok fights back a giggle. “I was being inclusive. And speaking of that night, you two looked awfully cosy. I mean, he even carried you home! That doesn’t exactly scream rivals to me…”

Jimin flushes bright red. “No, he didn’t,” he denies, turning back to the kitchen counter. “What are you talking about?”

“Jiminnie, were you that drunk? You asked him to carry you home and he did. What happened after that?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows.

Jimin pours all the ingredients for the popsicles into his food processor. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies. He blitzes the mixture and the sound of the machine is loud, but not loud enough to mask Hoseok’s next words.

“Oh, Jiminnie. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, you know!”

10 days to the farmers' market

Jimin’s naengi has begun to flower, just a few days before the farmer’s market. Everything is working out perfectly and Jimin is ecstatic. It has been hectic, running all over the place to ensure he’s got all he needs for the market. A mini freezer, baskets and crates to display his produce, a chalkboard to draw attention to his stand, napkins for the popsicles.

It's been so hectic that Jimin hadn’t even crossed paths with Jeongguk in the past two weeks. It’s strange, the way he misses their banter. 

Or was it Jeongguk himself that he missed?

No!

Jimin shakes his head violently. Absolutely not. He simply misses having someone to berate, that was it, he reasons with himself… Which is why ten minutes later finds him walking over to Nutmeg Hill.

He knocks on the tuscan sun yellow door. The emerald green philodendrons are way taller than they had been two months ago, supported by moss poles now. Has it really been so long since Jimin had first gone over to his place?

The door swings open, followed by a chuckle.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d turn up.”

Jimin smiles sweetly at Jeongguk. Today, he’s dressed in a sleeveless white t-shirt and black shorts. Jimin could write poetry about those biceps and tattoos… but he won’t (but actually, he will, in the dark of the night, under the safety of his blanket).

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t neglecting your garden. Not this close to the farmers’ market!” Without waiting for Jeongguk’s permission, Jimin pushes past him and enters the house. 

“You know, if this is what being rivals mean, then I don’t mind it at all. I’ve never had a competitor who cared so much about me they were willing to check on the state of my garden for me,” Jeongguk says, as he trails behind Jimin.

“I don’t care about you. I can’t have a competitor who’s so below my standards. I need to make sure you’re just as good, but not better.”

Jeongguk’s laughter tinkles through the hallway. “You really amuse me, trouble.”

Jimin lets himself into the back garden. It’s a sight to behold. The cantaloupes are in the final stages of ripening, the strawberry plants thick with fruit. His green mustard lettuces are vibrant, his sugar snap peas dangling like green confetti ready to pop. 

“Wow,” Jimin finally says. “I’m impressed.”

“No neglecting detected, correct?” 

Jimin walks through the garden, carefully inspecting the plants. “I suppose not,” he says after much contemplation. “You know, you never told me why you came here, of all places in the world.”

Jimin glances back at Jeongguk, who is watching him with curious eyes. He doesn’t seem taken aback by the question.

“My grandfather grew up here. I’ve always wanted to live in the countryside, but not my parents. So I worked really hard, got a good job, saved up like crazy and then uprooted myself from the city. I don’t regret it at all.”

Jimin tries to hide his shock. “Your grandfather grew up here? How did I not know that?” he asks incredulously.

“It’s why your grandparents are even more welcoming to me. They knew my grandfather, back when he was still alive.”

“You’re joking!”

Jeongguk chuckles. “I’m not.”

“I suppose that’s why you’re so good at gardening. Ha! I always wondered how a city boy knew what you knew.” 

“So you admit that I’m good?” Jeongguk teases. Jimin looks away so that he won’t catch the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“I already told you. You’re good, but not better.”

When Jimin leaves Jeongguk’s house, he realises that the other man is following him. He stops in his tracks and turns around, hands on his hips.

“Um, what are you doing?” he demands.

“I think it’s only fair I saw your garden too, no?” Jeongguk counters. 

Jimin blinks. “Hm… I suppose you’re right,” he says reluctantly. 

“I am right. Come on, let’s go.” 

Jeongguk slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulders, and propels them to walk forward. The weight of Jeongguk’s arm on him, the feeling of his body close to Jimin is oddly comforting – not that Jimin would ever admit it. 

They reach Jimin’s within 15 minutes. Jimin suddenly recalls the last time they had both been here together. He only hopes Jeongguk doesn’t bring it up. He ducks out from under Jeongguk's arm, hoping his red cheeks aren't so obvious.

“Welcome to my beautiful, luscious garden!” he announces, gesturing to his backyard with a flourish. 

Jeongguk scans the place carefully, nodding appreciatively. “I’m just as impressed, trouble.”

“As you should be,” Jimin says, tossing his hair back. 

Jimin has worked hard on his plantation. His water dropworts are bushy, his baechu standing proudly in rows. His dureup and asparagus are lined up like armies of tiny green elves. His chamoe melons brighten up the garden like sunshine. He loves seeing his garden full and lush like this, and glancing over at Jeongguk, he can tell the other treasures it too. 

Jeongguk glances back, and for a moment, Jimin stares into those starry eyes. 

"Why do you want to win so badly?" Jeongguk asks suddenly. 

Jimin blinks and clears his throat, shaking himself out of the stupor. "Well... I want to see the world. Escape, for a little bit. I've got all I need here but I've never been out of Bloomville," he admits.

Jeongguk nods appreciatively. "Bloomville is amazing but the world's another story. Well... here's to the farmers' market, yeah? I suppose you qualify as my competitor, too,” Jeongguk says teasingly. He nudges Jimin, throwing a wink his way.

“Of course I do. May the best produce win,” Jimin declares, sticking his hand out. Jeongguk grabs it and shakes it firmly. Even now, he’s still a good sport.

“May the best produce win indeed.”

D-Day

Finally, it’s the weekend of the farmer’s market. People from the neighbouring towns will arrive by mid-morning, so Jimin is out of bed by six. The past week had been exhausting as he and Hoseok did their final round of harvesting. 

Jimin double-checks his list to ensure he has all the fruits and vegetables he intends to bring as he loads them onto the back of Hoseok’s truck. He packs the freezer, the melon popsicles and jars of pickled chwinamul last, and then they’re off to the field where the farmers’ market will be held.

The weather couldn’t be more perfect. At half past seven, it’s bright and breezy, the rays of sunshine warming where the wind blows. They have quite a prime spot, near the centre of the market, and they get quickly to setting up, including plugging in their freezer.

The other vendors trickle in as the hour passes, and Jimin greets them all cheerfully. Taeyong stops by and snags some strawberries. Taehyung and Yoongi hug them tightly when they pass by. When Jeongguk arrives, Jimin isn't sure whether to wave or to ignore him. He ends up tripping over a crate of asparagus. 

"Jiminnie, are you OK?" Hoseok asks, peering at him with concern.

"I'm fine!" Jimin sits up quickly and looks around.

Thankfully, no one had noticed. He carries on with setting up the booth, sneaking glances at Jeongguk, who is only five stalls away from them. At one point, Jimin catches a glimpse of Jeongguk lifting crates of his fresh produce, which look enticing and delicious… But not as delicious as the arms carrying them. 

“Yah, will you stop ogling at Jeongguk and set up your booth?” Hoseok exclaims, throwing his glove at Jimin’s head. It hits him and falls to the ground with a thud. Jimin doesn’t notice.

“I’m not ogling. He’s my enemy,” he says. "And I am simply observing the enemy."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Nobody makes eyes like that at their enemy.”

Jimin frowns as he looks round at Hoseok, finally grabbing a crate of cabbages. “Eyes? Who’s making eyes?” He wants to know. 

Hoseok throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “I give up,” he announces, choosing to draw on their chalkboard instead. 

Jimin arranges the produce in their crates, ensuring the colours are mixed about evenly. Pleased with his rainbow of a display, he finally breathes a sigh of relief. He turns to Hoseok and pumps his fist in the air. 

"Let's do this!" 

The market gets crowded. Throngs of people walk by, cash clutched in their fists and eyes wide with wonder at Bloomville's marvelous spread. Jimin strikes up conversations with one too many people as he packs the fruits and vegetables for them. People seem to love his baechu cabbages, which move quickly. On top of that, his popsicles are a popular hit! A cooling refreshment to accompany you as you walk through the packed market, he tells them, and they pass him money before he even retrieves it from the freezer.

"Hobi, the crowd is crazy!" Jimin says as he bags four jars of pickled chwinamul.

Hoseok himself can hardly take a breather, topping up the fruits and vegetables that run out. The host of the farmers' market, Kim Seokjin, walks by at one point and they spend a good 15 minutes sharing about their produce. He thoroughly enjoys the popsicle, finishing it before he even steps away from the stall.

"Bonus points for the popsicle!" he calls, as he walks away. 

Jimin lets out a squeal of excitement before returning to serving other customers. Thankfully, by noon, the crowd thins out as they head to the benches to eat their lunches. Some vendors sell kimchi grilled cheese sandwiches, bap burgers and steamed buns. Jimin spy a few of the crowd-goers digging into the foragers' risotto dish.

"Let's have a look around," Jimin suggests to Hoseok. They put up a simple sign saying they'll be back in half an hour and cover their remaining produce with a protective sheet.

They pass by Taeyong, who roasts pomfret for them and serves it with a sweet chilli sauce. They share a bowl of risotto and eventually head to Taehyung's and Yoongi's stall. Their grapes are sold out but they still have quite a few bottles of wine left. They pour tasting portions for Jimin and Hoseok.

"Good stuff, isn't it?" Yoongi grins proudly. 

"You know how much I love it," Jimin says, downing his portion in one go. He helps himself to a second cup, despite Yoongi smacking him on the arm.

He looks around and notices that they're actually opposite Jeongguk's stall. It's an amazing feat to handle a booth alone and Jimin can't help but to commend Jeongguk for that. Jeongguk handles the customers smoothly, and Jimin isn't sure if it's the ripe cantaloupes or Jeongguk's captivating looks combined with his tattoos that is pulling the crowd in.

Jimin sidles over once the current customer walks away. "Sooo... How's business, sweet enemy o'mine?" Jimin chirps.

He scans what's left on Jeongguk's display and it isn't much. Darn it! He was selling better than Jimin.

"Business is absolutely boomin', trouble. My kombucha is all sold out," Jeongguk replies proudly. He takes a swig of water from his bottle. "The crowd's mad but I'm thankful. How come you're so free to walk around?"

Jimin flushes. "We're taking a break!" he protests. "Everyone's gone for lunch so we're taking advantage of it."

"Yeah, yeah," Jeongguk teases. 

"I didn't even get to taste your kombucha," Jimin complains. "How can I know if it's good?"

Jeongguk reaches below his counter and produces a glass bottle. "I kept one for you," he says casually. "Knew you'd wanna try it."

Jimin unscrews the cap and takes a sip. Goodness, it's bloody delicious, and he has to stop himself from taking another sip. It's perfectly fizzy and tangy, with rosy tones of watermelon and sweet strawberry to cut through. He puts the cap back on and slips it into his pocket.

"It's alright," Jimin lies. 

"You're a tough one to please, huh?" But his eyes had seen Jimin pocket the bottle and he grins in satisfaction.

"Wow, your cucumbers are really long, Jeongguk," Hoseok says, suddenly appearing by Jimin's side. "Like farmer, like cucumber, huh?"

Jimin chokes while Jeongguk bursts into laughter. "Yes. They take after me," he answers cheekily. 

"You're terribly over-confident," Jimin says. 

"Need proof?"

Jimin ignores him, although his ear tips reddening indicate he clearly heard Jeongguk, and chooses to peer into another one of Jeongguk's crates nosily. “You know,” Jimin starts, in an attempt to steer the lewd conversation away. “If you squint your eyes and tilt your head like this, that particular cabbage looks like Taehyung.”

“Oy! I heard that!”

Jeongguk doubles over in more laughter, and even comes to stand behind Jimin to look at the cabbage. "Y-you're right!" he gasps, tears forming in his eyes.

"I'll buy it," Yoongi declares from across the path. He strides over and inspects the cabbage. Jeongguk immediately sobers up, switching to his business mode. "Ah, cabbagetae. I'll treasure it."

"Yoongi-hyung!" Jimin gasps, scandalised. "How can you support him?"

Yoongi shrugs. "Hey, he bought three bottles from us. Meanwhile you shamelessly poured yourself a second tasting cup." His toothy grin lets Jimin know he's joking, and Jimin punches him in the arm lightly, pouting.

"Perhaps if you went back to your own stall, you'd be able to make more sales," Jeongguk adds, pocketing the cash gleefully. 

Jimin opens his mouth to say something when Taehyung interrupts them all. 

"Guys, check out that chocolate booth over there!" he exclaims, eyes widening in excitement. "Shall we check it out?"

"You guys go ahead, Jimin and I have to head back!" Hoseok calls. "Bring us some!"

Jimin turns to glare at Jeongguk. "Just you watch out, Jeon Jeongguk," he says threateningly. "I'll make you eat your words."

Jeongguk ruffles his hair affectionately. "You're so cute when you're mad, trouble," he says before bounding off to join Taehyung and Yoongi.

"Don't call me cute!"

Finally, it's late afternoon. Most of the vendors have sold out and those that didn't exchange their produce with others. Jimin and Hoseok managed to clear their stock and he is absolutely thrilled because Seokjin had actually come back for another popsicle. Magical, he had called it.

"It's in the bag," Jimin tells Hoseok excitedly. "I can feel it!"

The vendors gather at the small stage that has been set up. Last year, Choi Yeonjun had won the Best Stand for his amazing floral display, his beautiful arrangements and floral accessories catching the eyes of many. The crowd would put in their votes after buying and interacting with vendors, and even Seokjin himself could vote. Jimin is feeling absolutely confident after Seokjin had returned to their store.

"Bloomville, what a fantastic day we've had!" Seokjin announces into the microphone. "We saw many of our usuals return and we also saw some new interesting products. We hope you enjoyed supporting our community! Of course, we promised a prize to the Best Stand..."

Everyone watches as Seokjin picks the envelope up, his movements torturously slow. 

"And now... the moment we've all been waiting for... This year’s winner is…” Seokjin pauses as he slowly removes the paper from the envelope.

The crowd holds their breath in anticipation. Jimin is squeezing Hoseok’s hand so hard he’s positive he might’ve cut off the circulation. From across the crowd, Jimin can see Jeongguk watching interestedly. He doesn't seem stressed at all.

“KIM NAMJOON!” 

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause and cheers, as a tall man with dimples stands up from the back of the crowds. Jimin’s face feels awfully numb. It's the chocolate booth he and Hoseok hadn't visited. 

“Kim Namjoon has displayed extraordinary integrity with his bean to bar chocolate. He has travelled to Calinan, Chemur, Klung and Panchor to work with the cacao farmers and bring home the beans to share their stories. He has then single-handedly fermented, roasted and winnowed these beans to eventually produce the beautiful chocolate bars some of you have eaten! He wins a cash prize of five million won as well as the title of Best Stand at Bloomville’s Annual Spring Farmers’ Market. Everyone, give it up for Namjooooon!” Seokjin hollers. 

Namjoon proceeds to walk up the stage to shake Seokjin’s hand and receive his prize. He waves at the crowd, beaming. 

Jimin turns to Hoseok. “We didn’t win,” he says blankly. He's happy for Namjoon, of course, he's always happy for his fellow townspeople, but he's worked so hard and he can't help but to feel a little disappointed.

Hoseok has a sad smile on his face and he pats Jimin on the back sympathetically. “Well, on the bright side, neither did Jeongguk?” he reasons.

Jimin considers Hoseok’s words. “You’re right,” he realises. All at once, the disappointment leaves his body. “Ha! Jeongguk didn’t win!”

Cackling, he shoots up from his seat and makes his way through the crowd till he’s finally standing before his dear rival.

“Must suck to lose, huh?” Jimin drawls, grinning cheekily up at the taller man. 

Jeongguk blinks at him. “Um. Hyung. You lost, too?” he says slowly. 

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t win. And that is a prize enough for me!” Jimin declares. 

Jeongguk sighs, running a hand through his black hair. “Hyung. You know, I don’t actually care about winning the best stand. I only annoyed you so much because it was so fun to see you all flustered."

Jimin frowns at him. "You don't care about winning?" 

"Of course I don't. It never was about winning to me. Truth be told… I actually enjoyed all the moments when your pretty face popped out of nowhere and surprised me.”

Jimin’s heart skips a beat. “Stop calling me pretty,” he says defiantly. 

“I won’t," Jeongguk insists. "And I think… I think I could be a winner in another way…”

Jeongguk trails off as he steps nearer to the smaller man. He grasps Jimin’s chin gently, and it brings Jimin back, back to the night they had bumped into each other at Balgeun.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asks, panic rising at the back of his throat.

"You said you didn't hate me anymore, right?" Jeongguk asks, tilting Jimin's head back ever so gently.

Jimin's brain hasn't short-circuited in a while, but with Jeongguk holding him like this, it is, of course, inevitable.

"I don't," he mumbles.

"Then do you like me?" Jeongguk asks seriously. 

Jimin looks into those starry brown eyes. Screw that mantra he's had. He had forgotten it long ago, and of course, of course, he had fallen head over heels for Jeon Jeongguk and his sweet doe eyes. It's about time he told the truth, wasn't it?

"How could I not?" Jimin finally asks back. 

And then Jeongguk is kissing him. The hand on his chin moves to cup the back of Jimin's head gently and the other grips his waist firmly. Caught in the passionate embrace, Jimin lets out months worth of pent-up frustration, kissing Jeongguk back with fervour. It's truly amazing, the things Jeon Jeongguk can do with his tongue.

"Hey, this is a family event!"

Jeongguk and Jimin break apart, looking positively sheepish at being caught in such a compromising position. It's Taehyung that had shouted out the remark, but he's grinning, as are the rest of their friends.

"Took you guys long enough, huh?" Hoseok calls. 

Jeongguk chuckles while Jimin buries his face in his hands in embarrassment.

"It sure did."

Three months later

The walk to Nutmeg Hill is second nature to Jimin now. He no longer knocks on the tuscan sun yellow door but instead, uses his own key to unlock it. When he enters the kitchen, he finds Jeongguk sitting at the counter, tending to a bowl of French Toast Crunch. There is already a mug of steaming apple custard tea on the counter. He'll never admit it, but the sight warms his heart like nothing else.

"Good day, Jeon Jeongguk-sshi!" Jimin greets. 

Jeongguk pauses mid-chew, eyes searching Jimin. He swallows and then opens his mouth. "What is it now, trouble?"

“I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will,” Jimin announces, sliding into the seat opposite him. He beams at Jeongguk before taking a sip of the tea.

“Oh, yeah? And what might that be?” Jeongguk asks, playing along.

Jimin pulls a flyer from his pocket, clears his throat and proceeds to read aloud from it.

"Bloomville is excited to announce our annual summer farmers' market festival! Celebrate summer and support your local farmers, fishermen, chefs, producers and merchants! Stand a chance to win the title of Best Stand and a cash prize of 6,000,000₩!"

"Huh. They upped it by another million won," Jeongguk notes.

Jimin leans closer to him, eyes wide. "So, what do you say?" he prompts.

Jeongguk pretends to ponder, standing up to walk over to Jimin. He leans forward to grab Jimin by the waist and pulls him closer. 

"Well, Park Jimin-sshi. What do you propose?" he asks, eyes glinting mischievously, knowingly.

“Business partners," Jimin declares. "For the summer farmers’ market. You and I vs. the rest of Bloomville.”

"I like the sound of that. Fifty-fifty?"

"You can have none of it, but all of me. Deal?"

Jeongguk hoists him up, Jimin's legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Jimin's arms loop around Jeongguk's neck. And well, if he momentarily savours the moment of feeling sturdy muscle - he supposes it's alright if Jeongguk knows.

"You run a tight bargain. Kiss me first," Jeongguk says.

Without hesitation, Jimin leans forward to press his lips to Jeongguk's. They're kissing sweetly, desire running through their veins, nothing but love consuming them. Jimin pulls away before Jeongguk can deepen the kiss and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"So? Deal or no deal?" he asks persistently.

Jeongguk exhales, barely holding himself back. He's nodding against the other eagerly, noses bumping clumsily. Screw six million won. All he's ever wanted is right here.

"Deal."