Work Text:
Jungkook can hear Jimin's thoughts. No, really, like actually hear them in his head, the ones that Jimin thinks over anyway. At first, they just thought it was a weird soul-mate kinda thing, like in those weird magical realism novels where two people are fated to be stuck with each other forever because they have this oh-so-special bond. It's nothing like that. Apparently, some people are just born with the talent, some kind of genetic thing that science has been trying to understand. Particles and waves and stardust.
That kinda thing.
So, Jungkook can hear Jimin's thoughts, the ones he thinks over, and he's always thinking them over, with Jungkook grumbling back responses or just thinking back waves of semi-understanding to let Jimin know that yeah, I heard you, no, I don't really have much to say, it wasn't that interesting but it wasn't that uninteresting either so--
Jungkook heaves a sigh as Jimin recounts his supposedly epic journey from their new dorm to the shop on the corner for some much-needed mid-morning snacks even though Seokjin-hyeong had just finished cleaning up from breakfast, and Jungkook decides that he doesn't really have to reply, right? So he just sinks back into his covers and lets Jimin's thoughts wash over him, letting them fill up the spaces between his own thoughts, till his head is brimming with Jimin's voice, the warmth and soft of his enthusiasm about his newly obtained packets of chocolate mushrooms, the way his giggles feel tingling through Jungkook's body, and Jungkook falls back asleep to them, slipping through dreams filled with beaches of sand as soft and warm as Jimin's thoughts, water as clear as Jimin's smile, washing over him like safety, like sanctity, like sanity and serenity.
He wakes up to Jimin humming something or other and for a second, Jungkook wants to hum along, wants to think back a harmony but then he sees the clock and it's almost 3PM and god how did it get so late?! so he rolls out of bed and stumbles through the hallway, passing by Yoongi's room where he and Namjoon are curled up in bed with the computer in front of them, earbuds in their ears, mumbling and tapping pens to notebooks.
He stumbles into the shower and scrubs himself clean while Jimin hums in his head and it's nice. It keeps him from thinking too hard about how he'd slept the day away.
When he finally makes his way to the practice room, he finds Taehyung and Seokjin there, the former helping the latter with some dance moves.
"Where's Jimin?"
"In the recording studio trying to figure out lyrics or something like that," Taehyung says, frowning as he adjusts Seokjin's arms and presses his shoulders down. Seokjin huffs and tries to redo the set of moves. Jungkook drops his bag and patters over to help, Jimin's voice still echoing in the depths of his mind, tugging on his attention, but he pushes it away because their comeback is soon and Seokjin-hyeong can use all the help he can get with this part of the dance.
It's almost midnight when Jungkook finally settles into bed again, body pleasantly sore from a good, hard, practice, and some really great dinner. It's almost midnight and Jungkook can still hear Jimin's voice, prodding at him, though he's more hesitant now with--are you asleep yet Kookie?
Jungkook closes his eyes and grins, an online meme floating to the forefront of his mind, and he giggles to himself as he thinks back seen 00:00, and then flips over and falls asleep.
The next day, he wakes up to a ringing, echoing silence.
He wakes up to himself, locked up in his own head and it's cold, and empty, and kinda lonely.
He wakes up to Jimin's voice, clearly not inside his head, but outside his room door, and he's laughing with Taehyung talking about this and that and some game they're both playing and Jungkook frowns, flipping over to shove his face into his pillow, heart thudding behind his ears without the help of Jimin's voice to distract him. Jimin's giggle floats back down the hall and it sounds different, it sounds far away when Jungkook can't hear it in his head, can't hear it without the obstruction of walls and air and space, without the layers of skin and bone and body. It's strange, he thinks, and if he were completely honest with himself, he misses feeling Jimin's laugh tingling along his cheeks. He misses the sweet of it on his tongue even though he's never actually, y'know, tasted Jimin's laugh before even though he kinda wants to like kinda really really wants to, he knows how it tastes. He just knows, because that's how thoughts work.
That's how Jimin's laughs have always tasted.
He prods Jimin with a thought, just a short one, a tentative tendril of touch and almost physically curls into himself when Jimin jerks away. He can feel the sting of hurt, just the bit, before Jimin pulls away too far to feel and Jungkook is left much too alone in his thoughts, blinking with a jab of something stuck in his chest that he can't quite figure out how to make go away. It clunks around awkwardly as he makes his way into the living room for breakfast and settles next to Namjoon-hyeong, who is yawning into his bowl of rice and mumbling something or other about new shoes.
Jungkook glances around; Jimin is tucked into Taehyung's side, and they're grinning and giggling over something on Taehyung's phone and the way Jimin smiles at Taehyung makes Jungkook's stomach knot so tight he's frowning down at his own bowl of rice, fingers poised over his chopsticks till Seokjin-hyeong nudges him to ask what's wrong.
Jimin looks up, Jungkook looks down, cheeks flushing with heat as he shakes his head--nothing, nothing.
Jungkook makes it through half the day before he cracks again, when he gets over his initial spurt of childish indignance, when the silence gets so pressing he starts to wonder if it's possible to suffocate in his own head, he reaches out with the feeling of stomach-knotting discomfort, and a little wave of sadness, hoping that Jimin would somehow understand and this time, there is no sharp sting of pain, no sudden iron gate of cold, only a barely-tangible resignation, followed by bits of confusion that Jungkook wishes he could reach out and sooth over with his fingers in Jimin's hair.
He glances over to where Jimin is scrolling through his phone, eyes trained on the screen, earbuds plugged firmly into his ears as the makeup and hair team bustle around the members who aren't yet finished for their group shots.
Jimin looks for all the world just engrossed in his phone, lips moving over silence and lyrics that Jungkook used to be able to hear but can't.
Jungkook used to think he liked the quiet, preferred it actually, over the hustling, bustling, jostling heaps of noise that they always have to live through but this, he decides, this kind of quiet isn't the kind that he likes. He likes Jimin's brand of silence, with barely-remembered lyrics playing backdrop to Jungkook's thoughts, long-forgotten lullabies rocking him to sleep because he knows that Jimin is just across this wall, and if he presses his palm to the cold stone late at night, he'll know that Jimin can feel him reaching out and would reach right back.
That's the kind of quiet he likes, the kind that is filled with Jimin.
The kind without is terrifying and huge and Jungkook doesn't like it at all.
He almost thinks over I'm sorry. He almost thinks over please, please say something, think something, but Jimin's gentle acknowledgement saps at Jungkook's courage and really, he's never been all that brave to begin with, hiding behind his facade of nonchalance, his awkwardness bubbling up and out under the guise of aegyo and cuteness but Jimin knows better. He's always known better.
Jimin didn't need to peel at the layers of Jungkook's thoughts to know his heart and right now, as Jungkook reaches out again, stronger this time, with a breath of warmth, a touch of sheepish apology, and the tingles that Jungkook usually feels when Jimin's laughs race down his spine, Jungkook wonders if the reason Jimin's always knows the ways and working of Jungkook's heart was because he's always had it, cupped it firm in the palm of his tiny, sturdy hands, and watched it beat, listened to it live, memorized it's stories when Jungkook didn't have the patience to.
Jimin thinks back feathers and midnight sighs.
Jungkook thinks moonlight and secrets whispered among leaves of falling leaves.
Jimin thinks back falling stars.
Jungkook thinks hot water running over tired muscles and for the first time in way, way too long, he hears Jimin groan in his head--that sounds so good right now.
Jungkook can't help the smile that stretches between his lips because he knows he's forgiven, and he spends the rest of the day harmonizing to Jimin's songs, no matter how impromptu and strange they might be, his belly full, full, timber-full of Jimin's giggles and laughs, buzzing like honey'ed bees because Jimin's laughs are so sweet, sweet, sweet.
That night, Jimin walks down the hall to find the bathroom filling with steam, his favorite huge, old t-shirt already laid out on the counter, the tub half-full of water. He doesn't hear Jungkook sneaking up behind him but he doesn't even so much as flinch when Jungkook hooks his chin over Jimin's shoulder and settles there, the pair of them standing in the bathroom doorway, watching the tub fill.
They don't exchange words, just quiet, and comfort.
They don't really need words, Jungkook thinks as he buries his nose in Jimin's shoulder and loops his arms around Jimin's waist and grins because he can feel Jimin settling back into him as he waddles the pair of them forward, kicking the door shut with one foot.
When Jimin turns around, it's to Jungkook's nose inches from his own, and Jungkook's voice in his head, singing something that sounds like melting love over summer skies, bleeding sun under the wings of kites, like kissing making up after day-long fights.
When Jimin turns around, it’s to Jungkook's imploring eyes and the thought of fingers dancing over the skin of his back, trailing along the staircase of his spine, hesitant and unsure, but solid as falling day.
Jimin nods and Jungkook kisses him. Just like that.
Sweet, Jungkook thinks to himself because this is way too embarrassing to let Jimin feel, is the biggest understatement ever.
They spend the night losing themselves in each other’s skins and finding themselves in each other’s eyes and lord how time flies when you stop worrying so much about maybes and mights. Jungkook lets himself soak in the warmth and soft of the water, lets himself soak in Jimin's breathing, rising and falling against his chest, pacing his thoughts between his ears, pulling on the strings that make up his heart in tendrils and strands.
They curl up together in bed, not even looking up when Namjoon crashes in and slumps down on his own bed, snoring almost before his head hits the pillow. Jungkook laces his fingers with Jimin's and Jimin presses their foreheads.
"Hey," Jungkook whispers.
"Hey," Jimin whispers back and Jungkook lets the tension in his muscles go, lets his worries and thoughts go, till all he's got is the sound of Jimin's voice and the feel of his skin.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did." Jimin grins too wide and Jungkook gives his fingers a squeeze. Jimin squeezes back; Jungkook retaliates by slinging a leg over Jimin's calves to pull him closer. Jimin thinks over an open field of flowers and a tune that sounds like spreading summer or blooming spring.
"What's your favorite word?"
Jimin hums, and hums.
Jungkook leans forward for a tiny kiss, to catch the hum on Jimin's lips, but more importantly just to catch Jimin's lips.
"What's yours?" Jimin asks.
"I dunno--I don't think I know enough words to have a favorite yet."
"I do have one," Jimin says, but all Jungkook can feel is waves of warm, tickling, uncertainty, thick and stretching, so that Jungkook wants to hold Jimin in his chest and never let go.
"What is it?" Jungkook asks. He thinks of mornings on overcast days, the taste of rain along his lips. Jimin thinks back crisp apples and first snow. Jungkook thinks leather seats and practice room laughter. Jimin thinks back perfect and yes and family but in none of those words and all of those meanings.
And then, just as Jungkook thinks he might be falling asleep, that this might all just be bits and pieces of Jimin's dream, Jimin opens his mouth and says, in something more than a whisper, less than a voice--
"You."