Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You’re coming tonight?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Jungkook replied, nodding his head at the ahjummas as he skirted around them, moving quickly down the sidewalk. “Why wouldn’t I? I haven’t seen everyone in like, forever. I don’t even know what you look like anymore.” 

Instead of the chuckle Jungkook had expected, Hoseok was quiet on the other end of the line. “Did Namjoon tell you everyone who was going to be there?” 

Jungkook’s brows pinched together in confusion at Hoseok’s emphasis on the word everyone. “The norm, right?” he asked, crossing the street once the traffic was clear. “I’m assuming Jin hyung will bring Minjung. Yoongi’s gonna make it?”

“Yeah, he flew in this morning for his Christmas break.”

“Shit, that’s right,” Jungkook mumbled as his phone slipped and he scrambled to grab it before it fell to the pavement. “Christmas. Can’t believe it’s coming up already. Could have sworn it was Jiminie’s birthday yesterday.” He juggled the six pack of beer, cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder as he punched in code for his building. A surge of regret went through him. “I guess that goes to show how long it’s been since we all got together.”

“You’re right.”

“Hey, I’m home now, so I should—”

“Wait, JK-ah,” Hoseok blurted, “about tonight—” He trailed off, his voice laced with a concern Jungkook didn’t understand. 

He bounded the stairs two at a time to the second floor, eager to get his night started. Bam was waiting for him — he’d get him walked, then shower, maybe grab something quick to eat. Jungkook had been looking forward to this get-together for weeks. Work had been killing him — nothing would help shake off his currently ever-present gloominess more than seeing all of his friends.

“What is it?” Jungkook asked, slipping his shoes off, padding in stocking feet to the living room. “I suppose we’re drawing Secret Santa names, huh.” Across the room, Bam’s kennel was rocking as the doberman anticipated his freedom.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not that,” Hoseok said hesitantly.

“Just spit it out, hyung. I’ve got too much to do to sit on the phone.” Jungkook was almost knocked over as he freed Bam from his kennel, grimacing as the dog showered his face in kisses, his long tongue swiping across Jungkook’s mouth and eyes before he could turn away. “Starting with taking this big lug for a walk.” He grabbed Bam’s collar as he tried to romp past. “Bammie, baby, say hi to Uncle Hobi.” 

Jungkook held the phone to the dog’s face. Bam’s big nose snuffled at it, then he tilted his head quizzically toward the leash now held in Jungkook’s left hand. Jungkook chuckled and ruffled his ears, smacking a big kiss to the top of his head. 

“Hello Bammie my love,” Hobi cooed before Jungkook brought the phone back to his ear.

“Now what’s so important?”

“Jungkook-ah—” Hoseok paused. “Jiminie is bringing someone tonight.”

The leash dropped from Jungkook’s hand as he transferred his phone to the other ear, body falling back against the arm of the couch. “What do you mean? he asked, even though he knew exactly what Hoseok was inferring. “He’s bringing someone? Who?”

“I don’t— I don’t think they’re dating or anything,” Hoseok hastened to explain. “Jiminie told me last week that he’s a friend from work. And, in Jimin’s words, that maybe this guy wants ‘something more’ from their relationship.”

Jungkook chuckled weakly. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want something more with Jimin hyung?” he muttered. 

“Kook-ah, listen— nothing’s decided. Jimin sounded seriously iffy about whether he wanted the same thing.” Hoseok cleared his throat. “On the other hand,” he said, hesitating just long enough to make Jungkook worry, “if Jimin’s bringing him to meet all of us—”

Jungkook’s mouth went dry. “Then hyung has decided he is interested. That’s what you’re saying. He’s gonna date this guy. This guy he’s bringing tonight.”

“Hey, don’t jump to conclusions.”

“It was bound to happen.” Jungkook sank onto the couch and hugged a pillow to his chest. Bam paced back and forth between Jungkook and the door, tail wagging nervously. “Why did he tell you about this guy, and not me?” It felt sour in Jungkook’s stomach. 

If they were dating, that was one thing — Jungkook had had to suffer through that pain before — but the thought that Jimin might be hiding it from him hurt. Jimin had never concealed this sort of thing from Jungkook, ever, and that in itself made it feel like much more of a serious concern.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said, his voice soothing and quiet. He was tiptoeing around the subject, which made Jungkook feel worse. “Maybe he didn’t get a chance. You know how it is — you’ve been so busy lately. Even I barely get to see you.”

Hoseok was right. That was no secret. Jungkook had been positively swamped at work — this new project was much more involved and complicated than what he’d anticipated. If he’d known his promotion would often mean giving up his weeknights and Saturdays, he would have thought twice about accepting it — no matter what kind of pay raise and bonuses it had brought. He needed money, yes, but at what cost?

Look at what had happened.

He’d been neglecting his friends, all of them, but some had borne the brunt more than others. 

Hoseok was a bit like Bam — persistent, affectionate, and absolutely undeterred. Due to his incessant pestering, Jungkook still saw him semi-regularly. The rest of them had made attempts to connect with Jungkook, to get together for a drink or go to a norabang, but Jungkook was so drained after working so many hours he’d been declining more often than not.

But Jimin — instead of trying harder, he’d been pulling away. It wasn’t until now, when it suddenly felt like a crisis, that Jungkook realized just how much. They still texted here and there, but neither one of them liked having real conversations over text, so they hadn’t really connected — and Jimin hadn’t been calling and checking on Jungkook the way he normally did when they were too busy to see each other. Somehow that had changed — and Jungkook had been too busy to notice. He’d taken Jimin’s kindness, and friendship, for granted, and it made him feel a little sick. 

When was the last time Jungkook had been the one to reach out first, to call and check on how Jimin was doing? Jungkook wasn’t the only one who might be struggling with work, with life — and now he realized he’d shown a serious lack of concern about how his best friend was doing.

When had Jungkook stopped what he was doing, put his work aside and suggested they meet up, hang out — anything? He was busy, but he should never have been that busy — and he should never have expected Jimin to do all the leg work in their relationship.

Taehyung used to call them inseparable. Jimin and Jungkook, their names spoken together as a pair — like salt and pepper, bread and butter, Bert and Ernie. Taehyung would complain about his own lack of ‘Jimin time,’ but Jimin had always laughed him off, promising him a shopping day or sleepover to appease him. 

Now it was Jungkook who was severely lacking in ‘Jimin time.’ But instead of bending over backwards to appease Jungkook, Jimin had found someone new to spend his time with — and it wasn’t just Taehyung. No, the person Jimin had been spending his time with was someone who might be capable of actually stealing his friend away.

Bam was nudging Jungkook’s leg and whining, his long ears flapping as his pacing got more desperate. The poor dog had been kenneled since lunch, when Jungkook had rushed home to take him out. If Jungkook didn’t get moving soon, he’d have a mess on his hands — the last thing he wanted to deal with before his plans tonight. 

His big baby, the most constant companion Jungkook had at the moment, paused for a moment. Resting his head on Jungkook’s knee, he looked up at Jungkook imploringly, brown eyes wide under brows pulled together in worry. 

A wave of guilt crashed over Jungkook. He’d been fucking up all the good things in his life, including the one currently licking his hand and whining. Bam was being just as neglected as his friends.

Heaving himself off the couch, he clipped the leash onto Bam’s collar — and felt a pang of nostalgia. 

Jimin had given Bam the beautiful red leather collar with polished silver fittings when he’d turned a year old, just a few months before. A shiny tag with Bam’s name engraved in bold script had dangled from the front, and it had jingled with every movement as Jimin had fastened it around the pup’s neck.  

Utter happiness had burst from Bam as soon as Jimin had come through the door, wagging not just his tail but his whole body at his favorite person. You’re all grown up now, Jimin had murmured to the wiggling bundle of energy, still more puppy than adult. Jimin had insisted that they celebrate Bam’s first birthday the proper way — with gifts and special treats — as if he were Jungkook’s actual child. 

In addition to the collar, Jimin had brought with him a special dog birthday cookie he’d bought at a gourmet pet bakery, and a helium balloon shaped like a dog bone. Jungkook had been utterly endeared — not that he wasn’t whenever Jimin did anything at all. Just Jimin’s presence — the fact that he’d remembered Bam’s birthday, that he’d made the effort to come over and see them — that had been enough. Just Jimin being his happy, thoughtful, giving self was enough.

“I remember when he was little and he slept in my arms. His cold nose would tuck in right here, into the crook of my elbow, remember?” Jimin had asked Jungkook, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Bam flopping around wildly, looking for belly rubs. 

Of course Jungkook remembered, and was also a little ashamed at the other memory it conjured.  He’d wished that he was the one who got to sleep in Jimin’s arms. 

You're jealous of a dog, Jungkook had thought to himself as Jimin had wrapped his arms around Bam and cooed about what a good boy he was. You’re jealous of your own dog. Pathetic.

“I think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook had said instead, shelving his self-pity for the time being as he’d watched his best friend-slash-crush-slash-love of his life fall over in laughter, sputtering when Bam swiped a wet tongue over his nose. 

It had brought a smile to Jungkook’s face, something he sorely needed, and something Jimin had always excelled at. It was hard for him to stay in a bad place when Jimin was around. Jimin made everything in Jungkook’s life brighter, happier — more joyful. Jimin was the cure to whatever it was that ailed Jungkook, and Jungkook had assumed it would always be that way. He’d just never expected that Jimin might not be around when Jungkook needed him.

It had never been as crystal clear as it was at the moment. A few weeks — no, months, Jungkook reminded himself with self-disgust, without Jimin’s constant presence and everything in his life was going to shit.

“Kook-ah? You still there?”

There was no need to let Hoseok know he’d been ruminating over Jimin again. His friend already knew where Jungkook’s headspace was at, that’s why he was being so careful. “Oh, sorry hyung. I’m just getting Bam out the door for his nightly shit.”

Hoseok laughed, and the sound was so heartwarming that for a brief minute Jungkook felt only excitement to finally see his friends again — but then he remembered Jimin, and his presumed ‘date.’ Jungkook refused to consider it anything less than that until he got to Namjoon’s and could assess the situation for himself.

“What’s— what’s his name?” He shouldn’t even ask. Jungkook knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help it.

“Eunwoo,” Hoseok said with a sigh. “Cha Eunwoo.”

“How old is he?” Jungkook asked, maybe a little too harshly if Hoseok’s slight pause was any indication.

“Jungkook-ah, please don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Jungkook bristled. “If my best friend has a new boyfriend I’d like to know something about him.” He and Bam were now in the tiny park around the corner from his apartment, and as usual his very picky dog was sniffing every blade of grass to find the perfect spot to deposit his gift. It was cold, and despite his guilt about leaving his dog alone all day, Jungkook was in no mood to stand around. 

“He’s twenty-three.”

Jungkook frowned as he trudged past empty swings and slides, cold and abandoned in the weather that had recently taken a sudden turn towards winter. “Twenty three?” Jungkook scoffed. “He’s too young for Jimin hyung.” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as Bam dragged him around.

Hoseok chuckled. “He’s your age, Kook-ah — and he’s not Jiminie’s boyfriend,” he reminded Jungkook. “Not as far as I know.”  

“Not as far as you know. Uh huh.”

“Do not go into tonight with this attitude,” Hoseok warned. “Jimin will know instantly if you’re upset.” 

“I’m not upset,” Jungkook said petulantly, kicking at the gravel by his feet. “Why would I be?”

“You don’t need to pretend with me, Kook-ah,” Hoseok said gently. “I might be the only one, but I do know how you feel about him.”

Years ago, in a moment of weakness — after a party where Jungkook had had to witness Jimin flirting with some guy from his communications class — a very drunk Jungkook had spilled the entire contents of his heart to Hoseok. His first thought upon waking up the next morning was embarrassment — not only at admitting he was in excruciating love with his best friend, but for getting emotional and crying on Hoseok’s shoulder. But as time went by, Jungkook had unexpectedly found it was a huge relief to be able to share the truth with someone. 

Hoseok had proved to be the perfect confidant. Every once in a while he’d prod and push Jungkook to confess the truth to Jimin, but for the most part he’d remained devotedly supportive — and after all this time, he’d never told a soul.

In moments like this, though, Jungkook regretted ever telling Hoseok. It made it hard to pretend things like meeting Jimin’s new boyfriend didn’t bother him.

“If this is going to be too hard for you, you don’t need to come tonight,” Hoseok said. “Seriously. I’ll make some excuse, say you had to work or something. Don’t worry about the others. They all love you, and they’d understand.”

“Skip the party and miss seeing everyone? Again?” Jungkook shook his head emphatically, even though Hoseok couldn’t see him. “No way. I can’t— I won’t do that, hyung. I really don’t think Joonie hyung would ever forgive me if I bailed again. Besides, I arranged my whole work week around tonight,” he added lamely, as if his work schedule should ever come at the expense of his friends. Fuck. He felt like an asshole. “I— I miss you guys.” 

“I know.” Hoseok hummed. “Ok. If you’re sure. Kook-ah — don’t forget. You’re not alone, ok? I’m here if you need someone to lean on.”

“I know hyung, but I need to learn how to suck it up,” Jungkook said. “It’s way past time for me to move on. I’ll just get my own boyfriend or something. No big deal.” The words felt hollow, and he knew Hoseok could feel it, too. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“I love you, Kook-ah.”

“Love you, too.” Whatever was going to happen tonight or in the future, Jungkook knew Hoseok had his back. “I’m gonna go walk Bam and clear my head. I’ll see you there.”

🎅

It was a good plan — except that walking only gave Jungkook time to think. All the times he’d had a chance to tell Jimin the truth, all the things he’d wanted to say but had chickened out, all the reasons he wanted to be with Jimin but never would — he’d gone over and over it in his mind a million times. It was humorous at this point.

Jimin and Jungkook had met in uni — met all of his circle of friends there, actually, even though Seokjin had been in grad school by then, and Yoongi a fifth year senior. Jungkook had been a desperate freshman at the time — it had been two weeks into his 100 level math class and he was completely lost. He’d found Yoongi after calling a number on the school bulletin board advertising for a tutor. Not only had Jungkook’s grades improved almost immediately, but eventually he’d found a quiet understanding, a camaraderie, with Yoongi.

Yoongi wasn't someone who came off as immediately friendly. It had taken Jungkook a bit not to feel intimidated by him, but once he’d understood that Yoongi wasn’t judgemental, just thoughtful, things had fallen into place for them. Jungkook was also a thinker — an over thinker, one of his fatal flaws. Yoongi’s quiet, calm way of thinking about problems had been a balm to Jungkook’s anxious brain which had a tendency to instantly settle on worst-case scenarios — and Yoongi was still a safe place for Jungkook, even when he lived all the way across the Sea of Japan. It had been too long since they’d been together.

About six weeks into their tutoring sessions, Yoongi had casually suggested that Jungkook join him afterwards for lunch at the university cafeteria. Food, even the meager fare served at his school, was something Jungkook never turned down, so he’d jumped at the chance. He’d been eager for the meal, sure, but even more curious about what Yoongi was like outside of their lessons.

What Jungkook had not expected was that they’d be joining Yoongi’s friends for lunch. The five boys Yoongi had introduced Jungkook to that day had all been at different stages in their widely varying areas of study, and their ages spanned years. Jungkook had been amazed — not only at how well they all got along, but that there seemed to be no hierarchy within their group. They had traded banter and barbs around the table with no difference between the younger and older barring honorifics. It was a far cry from what Jungkook had been used to, coming from a high school where students of different ages and grades rarely mingled.

At the time, Seokjin had been studying for his master’s degree in communication and working as a TA; Namjoon had been a senior, working toward a degree in Literature. When he wasn’t tutoring, Yoongi had been studying to be an architect — he was the only one among them still in school, working on his doctorate in Tokyo. Hoseok had been studying fashion design, which is where he’d met Taehyung, who had been on the same track — but not for long. Over time Taehyung had switched majors — first photography, and then film studies, but neither one of them had stuck. Currently, he was making a lucrative living in brokering real estate deals for the newly rich and famous in Seoul. 

And Jimin — Jimin had been doggedly studying social work back then, determined to make a positive change in the lives of those without a voice. He had been successful, because of course he had been — everything Jimin touched seemed to turn to gold. His current job allowed him to make a direct impact on people’s lives every day.

In contrast, Jungkook’s business major had seemed — did seem — superficial. Jimin had set out to change the world, and Jungkook’s goal when he’d chosen his major had been to… make money. With good reason — but still. 

Their differences in majors and objectives in life had never mattered to Jimin in the slightest, though. He’d always treated Jungkook’s plans with respect. He’d made Jungkook feel like his dreams were important, even if he wasn’t set on changing the world and only on making enough money to help his parents out.

When Jimin had patted the seat next to him in invitation on that fateful day they’d met, Jungkook’s whole world had changed.

Gone were Jungkook’s lonely nights spent at the library, struggling through his notes, lacking support and perspective. Suddenly he had endless study partners, and encouraging friends. They came from a variety of backgrounds, had lived in different areas of the country, and had distinct personalities and strengths — and each one of them had helped Jungkook as he grew into adulthood. Aside from his family, they were the most important people in Jungkook’s life. 

They’d been brought together by the university they’d chosen to study at — and by some other magical sweep of fate that Jungkook wondered about often. 

The five years Jungkook had known the six of them might not seem to some to be a very long to some people, but there was no doubt in his mind that the lives of the seven of them were intertwined for good. He knew they would continue to be there for every step of Jungkook’s life, just like he’d been for theirs so far. Graduations, new jobs, new cities, new countries — nothing had pulled them apart so far. 

And up until now, Jungkook had been confident nothing would.

Except Jungkook didn’t seem capable of balancing his work with his private life, and it was taking its toll. What private life, he muttered under his breath, drawing a nervous glance from a middle aged woman waiting at a bus stop. 

Bam bounced along, wagging his tail at every person passing by, his ears flopping merrily. Even his dog’s joy at being outside and the smells of sweet hotteok from the corner food stand wasn’t enough to snap Jungkook out of his funk.

Jimin.

His face flashed through Jungkook’s mind, and he winced.

Jungkook had been a terrible friend. He was a terrible friend. The last he’d heard from Jimin was two weeks prior when they’d had a short text conversation about nothing in particular. In retrospect, it was obvious that Jimin had been trying to engage Jungkook in something, anything at all. But that night, Jungkook had been still stuck at work at eight o’clock with a few hours yet to go. He’d been in the middle of trying to wrap up a presentation due the next morning, and he’d responded to Jimin half-heartedly, too caught up in his own head and swamped in deadlines to pay attention to his so-called best friend. 

Jungkook thought back to all the times he’d done basically the same thing to Jimin. It had started with his big promotion — his soul-sucking, time-sucking promotion, the fucking promotion Jungkook had coveted for so long. What a joke. The whole thing had been pure suck right from the start, and now this. The weight of his regret almost brought him to his knees.

Jungkook was surprised that Jimin had kept trying as long as he had. What was the point, when it seemed so clear that Jungkook had prioritized his job over everything else?

Even worse was that niggling feeling he had that maybe he’d done it on purpose. Maybe he’d intentionally pushed Jimin away — because the truth was, some days it just hurt. If Jungkook really dug deep, if he was brave enough to acknowledge it, then yeah. Sometimes it hurt to be around Jimin. He hated that more than anything. He should never have let his feelings overshadow their friendship — but maybe that’s exactly what he’d done. 

Jimin, with his musical laugh that made him fall over in joy. Jimin, with his upbeat nature, always ready to lighten the mood. Jimin, his blonde hair flashing in the bright light of a winter sun, dazzling. Jimin, with his dancer’s body, lean and lithe, with graceful movements that mesmerized Jungkook. Jimin, who Jungkook had fallen for on the first day they’d met. 

Jimin, who had no idea — because he’d never worked up the courage to tell him, not once in five whole years.

Jungkook had been carrying around his feelings for Jimin for a long time — and at some point, he wasn’t sure when, it had begun to wear him down. 

It was his fault. He’d created this mess, both in his head and in his relationship with the one person that meant the most to him. His friendship with Jimin was suffering because Jungkook couldn’t get his shit together. Shit or get off the pot — it was one of his dad’s favorite sayings, and it came back to him now. Jungkook had giggled at the vulgarity of it when he was little, but it felt especially pertinent in this situation. And yet, knowing all of this, he still did nothing, chose to do nothing, because he was afraid. He didn’t think he’d ever have the guts to tell Jimin how he really felt.

Jungkook didn’t feel like he could be described as a strong person. The little things got to him. He took things personally. Instead of brushing things off and starting again, he’d give up. Instead of assuming he could do something, he assumed he couldn’t. It had been like that his whole life, and there was no indication that it would change anytime soon.

Work was the one place he did feel confident and proficient — which was perhaps why it was so easy to allow himself to get sucked into it all, the never-ending deadlines and challenges that he felt he could accomplish successfully. Maybe he’d never be able to tackle the elephant he’d shackled himself to, but at least there was one thing in his life he was good at. That was what Jungkook had told himself for all these many months, but now he wondered if he’d gotten it all wrong. If it cost him his friendships, if it cost him Jimin, then his priorities completely fucked.

Jimin might not be his, and probably never would be — who was he kidding? Jimin would never be interested in dating someone like Jungkook, not when he could have his pick of guys — but if this Eunwoo guy thought he could just flounce into Jimin’s life without passing Jungkook’s vibe check, he had another thing coming.

🎅

“Kook-ah! Come in!”

Namjoon swung the door wide, a little loose-of-limb and pink-cheeked as he gestured for Jungkook to enter. The gathering was in full swing — Jungkook heard Hoseok’s laugh followed by the low timbre of Taehyung from the living room. Seokjin passed by with a wave in his direction; and Yoongi and Minjung, Seokjin’s wife, followed close behind, deep in conversation.

“Sorry I’m late, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, then took a breath and steadied himself. “Bam’s been feeling a little neglected lately, so I spent some extra time with him before I came.”

“Aww, I miss your pup,” Namjoon said, leaning heavily on the door frame as he smiled at Jungkook. “I should come over and see him one of these days.”

“He’s not so much of a pup anymore. He comes up to my hip now.”

“Jesus Christ. Really? What are you feeding him?”

Jungkook laughed and shook his head, finally slipping out of his shoes. Namjoon pushed Jungkook forward, clapping him on the back and relieving him of the six pack of beer he’d brought at the same time. “I’ll stick these in the fridge.” He tilted his head towards the living room when Jungkook hesitated. “Go on. Everyone’s been waiting for you.”

Jungkook took a breath and turned the corner, scanning the room. For some reason he felt nervous, which was ridiculous. These were his friends, people he’d known for years, his people. 

He spotted Jimin right away, sitting on the arm of the couch, laughing. Someone Jungkook didn’t know — Eunwoo, Jungkook assumed — stood what Jungkook considered an acceptable distance away from Jimin. Eunwoo had a drink in one hand — one of Taehyung’s fruity concoctions if the umbrella in it was any indication, and the other gestured widely as he spoke to Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes lit up when he noticed Jungkook, and he rushed to his side.

“Jungkook-ah, you’re finally here,” Jimin cried, pulling Jungkook into a hug. 

His mind went hazy at the sudden contact. Jimin was here, he was in Jimin’s arms, and fuck, Jungkook had forgotten what it felt like to be enveloped in him — the warmth, the softness, the scent of Jimin. At one time Jungkook had been addicted to it, unable to go a day without seeing him, talking to him. He would listen raptly as Jimin rambled on about a YouTube video he’d watched or whatever funny thing that had happened in one of his classes, even though they both should have been studying.

At one time, there wasn’t one thing that Jimin did or thought about that Jungkook didn’t want to know. 

As Jimin drew back, his face split in a smile and his eyes hidden behind his cheeks in the pure happiness that always surrounded him, Jungkook realized that he didn’t know anything about what Jimin was doing or feeling these days. Jungkook’s heart ached for him, his arms wanted to reach out and pull him close again, but he didn’t know if he had that right anymore. Maybe that right belonged to that new guy. Maybe Jimin had already decided to share all those little details of his life with Cha Eunwoo instead.

“Jimin hyung,” Jungkook said, his chest tight and his words a little breathless as the air rushed out of his lungs, “I’m—”

“Nope, nope, you’re not allowed to apologize, Jungkookie.” 

It made Jungkook want to cry, because Jimin really could still see him, see right through him. He’d always said that Jungkook wore his heart on his sleeve, but maybe he only wore it for Jimin, because no one else seemed to understand Jungkook the way Jimin could. He didn’t need to say a word to be heard — but fuck, he wanted to say it.

“Shhh, don’t,” Jimin scolded when Jungkook opened his mouth to try again, the urgent need to let Jimin know just how sorry he was sucking the air from his lungs. “You're here, I’m here, we’re finally here together and nothing is going to ruin this moment for me, not even your sad eyes.”

“I don’t have sad eyes,” Jungkook countered, making an effort to widen his eyes and soften his brow as Jimin giggled at him — but a moment later he quieted, and placed his palm flat on Jungkook’s chest. 

Jungkook responded without even thinking. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, counting silently as he did. One two three four in, slowly, slowly. Hold for seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight out — then repeated the action, taking another equally deep breath. Jimin had taught him this technique for releasing his anxiety — not that Jungkook always remembered to use it when Jimin wasn’t around. Jimin smiled patiently while he waited for Jungkook to finish.

“Better,” Jimin said with a satisfied nod, then poked a finger into Jungkook’s cheek and pushed upward. “Now smile and act like you’re happy to see me, you workaholic you.”

I’m sorry almost passed Jungkook’s lips again, but he pressed his mouth tight, then remembered he was supposed to be smiling. “I miss you, Jimin-ah.” He said it without meaning to, but even now, even when Jimin was right here, Jungkook missed Jimin the way the grey winter landscape missed the snow.

“Yah, I’m your hyung, don’t you forget it!” Jimin said, playfully smacking Jungkook’s bicep, but his eyes twinkled in happiness. He’d never really had issue when Jungkook dropped honorifics, he just liked pretending that he did, because it gave him the chance to tease Jungkook. “I missed you too, you dummy. Really!” he added with emphasis when Jungkook arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him. 

Jungkook could feel the eyes of their friends as they watched their exchange. Most of them knew that he and Jimin, previously inseparable, had been spending less time together because of his job. Jungkook wondered what they thought as Jimin chattered happily to him as if nothing had changed, and then realized what he was doing and cursed himself. Even when he was with Jimin, his mind was too tangled to be fully present.

Taehyung had one time said that Jimin was working toward a PhD in Flustering Jungkook, and that Jungkook had been named valedictorian of Being Flustered by Jimin. At the time, it had been just another one of Taehyung’s jokes — but tonight, that memory gave Jungkook pause. Could other people see how Jungkook felt about Jimin? Could Jimin see it? If Jungkook’s emotions really were an open book to Jimin, why didn’t he know Jungkook was in love with him? Or maybe he did — and didn’t return those feelings.

Those questions flooded Jungkook, threatening to suffocate him — and then he noticed Eunwoo watching him over Jimin’s shoulder. 

Jimin followed Jungkook’s line of vision and exclaimed in delight, grasping Jungkook’s arm and tugging him toward Eungwoo. Jungkook’s skin burned at his touch, and his throat went dry as he saw the fond way Eunwoo smiled at Jimin as they came closer.

“He’s here in the flesh,” Jimin exclaimed, turning to Jungkook and speaking loudly to be heard over the background noise. “This is Jungkookie, my very best friend,” he said, clinging to Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkookie, this is my friend Eunwoo.”

If Eunwoo felt uncomfortable being called just a friend of Jimin’s, he covered it well. He turned toward Jungkook, bowing his head in greeting. “Jungkook-ssi, it's nice to finally meet you,” he said politely, almost too formally for the occasion. 

Eunwoo was tall, possibly as tall as Namjoon, and was handsome in that generic Award Ceremony Host kind of way that Jungkook thought was impossibly boring. He was clearly smitten with Jimin though — he had barely glanced in Jungkook’s direction prior to introducing himself. His eyes had been on Jimin the whole time.

Before Jungkook could respond, Jimin jumped in. “Eunwoo probably thought you were a figment of my imagination,” he said with a giggle. Eunwoo coughed awkwardly, and Jimin’s face fell. “Oh, shit. Jungkookie—I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, no, I deserve that hyung, I haven’t been around,” Jungkook said, his stomach sinking. “It’s nice to meet you too, Eunwoo-ssi. How do you know Jimin hyung?” he asked, even though he already knew, trying to keep his voice even and his face neutral.

“We work together,” Eunwoo replied perfectly pleasantly, with a glaringly perfect smile, his perfect teeth shining — and sharp. Jungkook had to look away. “I’m over in outreach, so our paths didn’t really cross until this past summer.”

Summer? Jimin has known him since the summer? Jungkook tried to recount how many times he’d seen Jimin, how often they’d talked or texted since summer — countless times, even if it had been less frequently than previously. Never once had Jimin mentioned this guy. If they were only friends, then why? Why the hell would Jimin hide ‘just a friend’ from Jungkook? There was only one reasonable explanation.

Jimin tugged Jungkook a step away from Eunwoo, and turning his back, cupped his hand over his mouth. “Kookie. I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered, as if anyone could hear them talking over the blaring music anyway.

“Um, what?” Jungkook responded, trying to play dumb.

“I know you too well to let you play dumb, either.” Jimin slung an arm around his neck, speaking directly into his ear now, his warm breath making goosebumps rise on Jungkook’s skin. “Eunwoo and I met last summer, but we didn’t start hanging out until our last team noraebang, right after my birthday. That's why I never mentioned him to you.”

“Oh well,” Jungkook mumbled. He tried to save face by blatantly lying, as ugly as that was. “I wasn’t concerned about that.”

“You weren’t?” Jimin said, sounding surprised.

“No, you can have other friends—” The words came to a dead. stop. in Jungkook’s throat. He tried to clear it, choking slightly.“—o-other friends. Other than me.” Damn, he really wished he had a drink right now, even if just to hide his expression behind. He probably looked like a fool. “I— uh, of course you do have other friends, I just mean—”

What Jungkook meant was that yes, he was jealous that Jimin might be now, or could be in the future, dating Eunwoo. But it was more than that — Jungkook was scared that at some point Eunwoo would replace Jungkook in Jimin’s life, whether or not they ever dated. If Jungkook was never around, Jimin deserved to find new people to hang out with — but he couldn’t say that. He didn’t want that. Selfish.

Just the thought of other people, of Eunwoo , spending the same amount of time, doing the same kinds of things Jimin and Jungkook had done together, made Jungkook want to slink away to drink himself into a puddle of regret and self-pity.

“Jungkookie, you’re biting your lip so hard you’ll start bleeding soon.”

Fuck. He kept forgetting. Jimin could see right through him, blah blah blah. Sometimes that sucked.

“Um, I’m gonna get a beer.” 

Jungkook needed to get away from Jimin, clear his head, and fast.

“I’ll come with you—”

“No, stay with Eunwoo,” Jungkook said, waving in Eunwoo’s general direction without looking at there, already moving towards the kitchen. “He doesn’t know anyone else here. I— I’ll bring you guys something.”

The heaviness weighing Jungkook down lifted dramatically as he entered the kitchen, immediately spotting Seokjin and Hoseok having an animated discussion about who was the better tennis player.

“There’s only one way to settle this Hob-ah. The tennis club, next weekend! I won’t take no for an answer!” Seokjin, already prone to loud outbursts of outrage and laughter, was significantly louder when drunk, and he shook Hoseok’s shoulder as he practically shouted in his ear. 

Hoseok winced before finally agreeing with a nod and a laugh, then his eyebrows pinched together in determination. “Don’t even think you stand a chance against me, hyung. I’ve been swinging racquets since I was a kid.”

“Ha! Well, my coach said I’m a natural!” Seokjin leaned heavily on his elbow and pointed his finger at Hoseok menacingly. “You’re so confident you’ll win? Let’s put some money on it then.”

“Um, fucking move ,” Jungkook huffed, expertly dodging Seokjin’s hand that swung to give him a smack, ducking under it for the refrigerator handle. He popped the door open, staggering Seokjin sideways.

“You’re such a brat now, Jungkookie,” Seokjin drawled, a teasing smile on his lips. “Ever since you got that hot shot promotion, you think you’re so cool, I—”

“Says the guy who practices his poses in his bedroom mirror so that he looks good on his pretentious variety show,” Jungkook grumbled, head bent forward as he looked in the fridge. “Knock it off. I’m not in the mood to be teased, hyung.”

Seokjin snapped his mouth shut, but Hoseok gave him a look. They were silent as Jungkook grabbed two beers and a bottle of soju, Jimin’s poison of choice, from the fridge.

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward the living room, where Jimin and Eunwoo stood shoulder to shoulder in conversation. “Yeah, some for them, too,” Jungkook said, tilting his head towards them. 

Hoseok frowned. “Come back here when you’re done running Jimin’s errand.”

Quick to jump to Jimin’s defense, Jungkook clarified, “It’s not like that, hyung, I offered to—”

“Ok, ok. Relax, Kookie. I just want to talk to you for a sec.”  

With a backwards glance at Hoseok, Jungkook plastered a smile on his face and walked back to Jimin and Eunwoo, trying not to frown at how close they were still standing. It grew more genuine when Jimin broke off whatever he was saying to Eunwoo, smiling widely as he stepped forward to retrieve the bottles from Jungkook’s hands.

“I gotta go—” Jungkook began, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“No wait, wait, Kook-ah. Don’t leave already,” Jimin implored. “Let’s toast at least, ok?” Jimin unscrewed the cap from his bottle and nodded for Jungkook and Eunwoo to do the same. Jungkook tried not to glance in Eunwoo’s direction, but when he finally did, Eunwoo was staring right back at him, right through him. Jungkook flinched and snapped his eyes back to Jimin, hoping that his discomfort didn’t show.

“To friendship!” Jimin enthused, holding his bottle high until all three of them clinked their bottles together.

“To friendship,” Jungkook added with somewhat less exuberance, but Eunwoo seemed into it. Probably only for Jimin’s benefit, Jungkook grouched internally. The guy seemed fake — like he was on his best behavior or something, and it bothered Jungkook. People like that always seemed to have a hidden agenda, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with becoming Jungkook’s friend.

Jungkook took a healthy slug, hoping that beer might make his distress less angular and sharp, more fuzzy.

“C’mon, stay here,” Jimin pleaded, hand fisting the sleeve of Jungkook’s hoodie. “I haven’t talked to you in so long.” Eunwoo ran a hand through his hair, pointedly looking away. Good, Jungkook thought. See how it feels for Jimin to want someone else.

Jungkook hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen where Hoseok stood with his arms crossed, waiting. “Jimin hyung, really — Hobi hyung needs me. I’ll be back soon.” Jungkook was pretty sure that that was an actual lie, unless someone else snatched Eunwoo away from Jimin for a while. Jungkook was desperate to spend time with Jimin, but not with Eunwoo’s piercing eyes watching his every move.

Jimin stuck out his lower lip, exaggerating his pout in that particular way that always made Jungkook cave. 

“Promise me. Promise you’ll come back.”

Jungkook closed his eyes. “Ok, hyung, I promise.” God, this is excruciating, Jungkook thought, torn between his desire to never leave Jimin’s side again and the need to get away and save himself from the pain.

In a true test of his determination, Jungkook’s feet finally released from the floor and he left Jimin and Eunwoo behind for Hoseok and the relative safety of the kitchen, practically jogging as he got further away.

“What is it, hyung?”

Hoseok frowned. “I can’t sit here and watch you do that to yourself.”

“What am I doing to myself?” Jungkook asked, feeling defensive but not understanding why. “I want to spend time with Jimin. What’s so bad about that?”

“What’s so bad about it is that you’re not so much spending time with him, but supervising him.”

“Am not.”

“Ok, then, how about chaperoning.”  

Jungkook crossed his arms. “Am not.”

“Fine — call it what you will, but I can see your mind working, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok said, not backing down. “You’re making in awfully obvious that you’re watching Eunwoo’s every move.”

“Am not. He’s the one watching me,” Jungkook said petulantly, but without the earlier conviction. “Wait, can everyone else tell, too? Do they all know?”

“I don’t think so,” Hoseok said, quick to reassure him. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. If anyone else suspects, they’ve never mentioned it to me — and trust me, they would. I’ve never known such a group of gossipers in my life.”

“Thank god,” Jungkook said with a relieved exhale. “I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“Know what? That you’re desperately in love with your best friend?”

“Shhhh,” Jungkook hissed, outraged. “Hyung, what if someone hears you?”

Hoseok glanced around the empty kitchen and out toward the crowded living room, and Jungkook followed his line of vision. Taehyung was dancing by himself in a slow circle to a song that only he could hear apparently, since it was completely at odds with the alternative hip hop coming out of Namjoon’s speakers. 

Namjoon had a friend of his own with him tonight — although it was pretty obvious they were more than friends already. The guy had longish, curly hair and was engrossed in whatever book Namjoon had pulled off of his bookshelf, his arm snaking around Namjoon’s waist as he looked over his shoulder. Cute.

Seokjin had retreated to a corner of the couch, Minjung practically sitting in his lap as they giggled over something on Minjung’s phone. Whenever Jungkook saw them together, his heart ached — in happiness, and in pain — because that was the kind of love he’d always wanted. They’d only been married a year, and Jungkook wondered how long it would be before the honeymoon period wore off, because they never seemed to tire of each other.

Jimin and Eunwoo had now added Yoongi to their group. Jungkook hated that he felt relieved. When had he become this jealous asshole? 

Yoongi and Eunwoo seemed to be in deep conversation about something, and Jimin was quite obviously only half-listening, just nodding along. Jimin glanced toward the kitchen and caught Jungkook’s eye, giving him a tiny wave before reluctantly being pulled back into the conversation again.  

“No one is close enough to hear, Kook-ah. But would it be so bad if they did know?”

“Yes,” Jungkook responded immediately.

“What if Jimin knew?” Hoseok challenged him. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes? What are you even talking about, hyung?” Jungkook blurted, outraged. “Of course it would be bad?”

Hoseok sighed. “Just think about this, Jungkookie, and I mean this with the utmost love and sympathy, ok?” He waited until he was sure he had Jungkook’s full attention. “If you don’t shoot your shot, someone else is going to, whether that’s Eunwoo or someone else.” He nodded toward Jimin, who was watching Jungkook and Hoseok carefully, an unreadable expression on his face.

Jungkook shook his head emphatically, feeling dizzy. “I— no. I can’t. It would ruin everything. Hyung,” he implored, “why would he want someone like me? Obviously he doesn’t. He wants me as a friend. That’s all.”

“Why are you so sure about that?” Hoseok said, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder reassuringly. “He might like you back! In case you didn’t know it, you’re quite the catch.” 

Jungkook shook his head. “No way. I’m not.”

Hoseok placed both his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders now, face steady and serious. “You might be losing your chance, Kookie. If you don’t tell Jimin how you feel, you might not ever know if he has feelings for you, too.”

“Yeah, right.” Jungkook downed the last of his beer and crossed his arms defensively. “If he does feel that way about me, he would’ve done something about it already.”

“Touché,” Hoseok said, pointing his finger at Jungkook. Turning on his heel, he left Jungkook alone in the kitchen — utterly dumbstruck.

“Ok, ok, everyone! Listen!” Namjoon, wearing a battered Santa hat, stood on a shaky stool, banging a wooden spoon to be heard. Pointing at Seokjin, he said, “Hyung, turn off the music.” A few of them chuckled as all eyes turned to Namjoon.

“Same rules as always,” Namjoon said, holding the hideous Santa cookie jar aloft. It was one of the first Secret Santa gifts he’d gotten, and had become the designated name-holder ever since. Namjoon jumped off the stool and walked the perimeter as each person put their name, written on a folded up slip of paper inside. “If you pick your own name, we’ll try again. I hope no one is so drunk they keep their own name this year.”

Everyone turned to Taehyung. He looked just as sloshed as he had been the year before, when he’d forgotten to check the slip of paper until he’d fished it out of his pocket the next morning. “Hey,” Taehyung protested, pointing at Hoseok with a sly grin. “That wasn’t my fault. Hyung kept making me those yummy blood orange martinis because he was trying to get in my pants.”

Hoseok flushed positively red. It had worked — Hoseok and Taehyung had hooked up for the first time that night, and had been seeing each other off and on ever since. Everyone knew, but no one ever mentioned it — not publicly at least. 

Namjoon cleared his throat, stepping back onto the stool. He just loved feeling like the master of ceremonies, playing his part with the utmost pomp he could pull off, even though Seokjin always said he would’ve made a more obvious choice for the job. “Anyway, I hope the type of gift expected is obvious.” Namjoon swept the cookie jar back and forth. “Let this monstrously beautiful example, given to me by our lovely and kind friend Yoongi many years past, be your guide.”

Jungkook glanced at Eunwoo, who was chuckling along with the rest of them. His hand rested dangerously close to Jimin’s, and Jungkook had to make a concerted effort not to grind his teeth. “And remember — nothing that can’t fit in a standard-sized gift bag. Sunja ahjumma will not take kindly to you dragging something the size of Jungkookie’s dog into her restaurant.”

“Is he big now?” Yoongi asked, turning to Jungkook. Yoongi hadn’t seen Bam since he was a pup, since he didn’t get back home often. This year he’d planned to spend his entire winter break in Seoul, foregoing spending the extra time on his dissertation, homesickness getting the better of him.

“He’s huge,” Hoseok replied. “The size of a horse.”

“No, he only eats like a horse,” Jungkook corrected with a chuckle. Jimin flashed him a genuine smile, and it made his stupid, lovesick heart flip. He cleared his throat. “And I would never give him away in the Secret Santa, anyway.”

“No one else can have Bammie but me,” Jimin said, stomping his foot. “If Jungkookie gives him to anyone, it should be to the person Bammie loves most. That’s me.”

Jungkook crossed his arms. “Um, no one can have my dog.” He smirked at Jimin. “No, not even you, hyung.” Jimin fell over in laughter. Alcohol always made him more giddy than usual. The usual butterflies fluttered in Jungkook’s stomach — there was no better feeling than being the cause of Jimin’s laughter.

Namjoon rolled his eyes as he jumped off the stool, landing awkwardly and twisted his ankle. He hopped around on one foot, wincing as he held the jar out to the first person to his left, who just happened to be Jimin. 

“Do not open— everyone, shut up!” Namjoon shouted as the volume of the room rose again, waiting until they’d all quieted. “Close your eyes, and make sure you don’t open your eyes until everyone has a slip of paper.”

Jungkook dipped his hand into the jar when Namjoon came around and nudged him, feeling around for what apparently was the lone slip of paper left in the bottom. He hoped he’d picked an easy name. The whole goal was to make the person laugh, and while it was an easy task if he'd picked Seokjin or Hoseok, Taehyung was hit or miss depending on his mood, and Yoongi was damn near impossible. 

“Ok, you can open your eyes now,” Namjoon said, holding his folded slip above his head, “but don’t look at your names yet. We’ll do it together! Tradition, you know!”

Before anyone could say anything, someone started a drumroll on the coffee table, building up the excitement. It was Eunwoo, bright eyed and clearly enjoying himself despite not really knowing any of them, and soon Daejung, Namjoon’s friend followed suit. Taehyung looked back and whooped, and soon everyone had joined in, getting louder and louder. 

“On the count of three!” Namjoon shouted — then reminded them, unnecessarily, “Don’t let anyone see your paper!”

Everyone groaned, and one or two of them heckled Namjoon, who sent his own biting comment back, all part of the game, all in good fun — but Jungkook didn’t hear any of it. His ears were attuned to one person only. 

Jimin’s giggle floated high above their voices — so light, so full of joy, and Jungkook wanted to hitch his wagon to that star. He vowed to himself he’d do better — he’d hang on to Jimin, be a better friend to him, no matter what.

“One… two…” 

More drumroll, courtesy of Eunwoo. 

“Three!”

Jungkook opened his paper. It said:

JIMIN 😊

🎅

“What am I going to get him, hyung?” Jungkook whined for at least the fourth time since they’d sat down — one for each empty bottle, he thought ruefully. 

Jungkook knew he’d been strictly forbidden to tell anyone whose name he’d picked, but there was no way he couldn’t not tell Hoseok, not when Jungkook was having a crisis, or a mental breakdown, or whatever you called this, with only four days left to get his shit together. 

He and Hoseok were tucked away in the corner of their favorite hole-in-the-wall, an open bottle of soju and a mostly empty plate of yangnyeom tongdak between them. Jungkook had had more than his fair share — Hoseok was being impressively indulgent, not only with the booze and food, but also his attention.

“You’re way overthinking this, Kook-ah. It’s supposed to be fun. Have you forgotten how to have fun?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“You know Jimin’s sense of humor. You know what makes him laugh.”

“You mean how he laughs at every single thing I say?” Jungkook said, picking at the now cold chicken between them. “He’s probably just making fun of me. He probably thinks I’m a dork or something.”

Hoseok frowned and pushed the bottle to Jungkook, who gratefully poured himself another. “What’s going on? Where is all this doubt coming from when it comes to Jimin? He’s not making fun of you — why would you even think that? He’s your best friend, Kook-ah. You guys have been inseparable from day one.”

Except that wasn’t true anymore, and Hoseok knew it. Chagrined, he glanced away, looking like he wanted to stuff those careless words back in his mouth.

Jungkook gasped as he threw back the soju, relishing the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, feeling too tipsy to worry about manners or what the other customers might think of him. “Not sure I know him that well anymore.”

Hoseok kicked him under the table. “Stop being fucking stupid. Is this because of Eunwoo?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook said, cowering under Hoseok’s glare. “Maybe Jimin would rather hang out with someone like him.”

“Instead of you? You’re truly losing it, dude,” Hoseok said with a shake of his head. “Besides, if you want to know the truth, Eunwoo is a pretty cool guy, and you have more in common with him than you think.”

“Who cares.” Jungkook bit his lip to stop himself from saying more. He knew himself well enough to realize that the buzz of the alcohol would loosen his lips, and the last thing he wanted to do was unfairly sound off on Hoseok simply for having a positive opinion about the guy. Jungkook knew how stupid he was being. If Jimin was friends with Eunwoo, he couldn’t be all bad — it was just his intentions. Jungkook had seen the way Eunwoo looked at Jimin and it made his skin itch.

Hoseok’s phone vibrated on the table with a text notification. “Hold that thought,” he said, even though Jungkook wasn’t actually saying anything, too caught up in the pity party going on in his head.

“It’s Joonie,” Hoseok explained, typing something quickly in reply. “Apparently we can’t meet at Yoojung Sikdang this year. Sunja ahjumma is going to visit her sister’s family in Gwangju for Christmas, so she’s closing down for the two weeks she’s gone.” Hoseok responded to Namjoon again, typing a little longer this time. “I told him you were with me and I’d pass the message along to you.” 

“So now what? Are we having it at Namjoon hyung’s house?”

“No, no,” Hoseok said, reading Namjoon’s reply. “He says he’s found a new spot and reserved a table already — some fancy meat place in Gangnam. We have a good reason to celebrate this year!”

Jungkook didn’t understand what Hoseok meant by that, but his other concern seemed more pressing. “Can hyung afford that?” Jungkook rested his head on his hand, pondering this turn of events for perhaps longer than was necessary. His brain felt slow and slushy. “It’s not like he’s making any money working at the gallery.”

Seokjin was the hyung of all of them, but everyone had agreed a few years back that it was only fair for each of them to take a turn paying for the Secret Santa meal. It happened to be Namjoon’s turn this year. Jungkook had already been worried if Namjoon could afford to treat all of them on his meager salary — and that was when they were going to Yoojung Sikdang. This new restaurant sounded much more expensive, and he wondered why Namjoon would have chosen it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Hoseok asked, arching his eyebrows in surprise. He poured himself another shot. “Joonie signed a contract with a publisher — a good one.”

“He did?” Jungkook was thrilled for Namjoon, but a little hurt that apparently he was the last to know everything.

“He’s so happy, Kook-ah — damn, wait until you see him. He was smiling ear-to-ear when he told me.” Hoseok snagged the last bite of chicken, licking the sticky sauce off of his chopsticks with a happy sigh. “He even got a nice little advance on his next book. It’s amazing.”

Jungkook sat up straighter, and his vision swayed. Oops. He’d had a bit too much. “That’s really great, hyung. He’s worked so hard — we should make it a point to really celebrate properly when we get together.”

“If you mean eat a mountain of meat, drink a river of alcohol, and laugh my ass off at funny gifts with you guys — then I’m in. Sounds like the perfect night.”

A silence settled between them, slow, easy. Hoseok’s cheeks were rosy pink, and he slumped back in the booth, an arm behind his head. He gave Jungkook a fond, wistful smile. 

“What’re you gonna do?” Hoseok asked.

“‘Bout the gift? Dunno.”

“No, Jungkook-ah. About Jiminie.”

Jungkook’s heart sank. “Nothing. Suffer.” He laughed, a harsh snort of derision. Coward.  

“It’s time, Kook-ah. You can feel it just as well as I can, I know you do. Put an end to your suffering and tell him how you feel.”

“An end? You think telling him will end my suffering?”

“How much worse can it get?” Hoseok asked. “Genuinely asking. Because you’ve killed five bottles of soju tonight and I’ve never seen you more miserable.”

“Hate to break it to you, but having Jimin reject me would make me more miserable.” Jungkook tipped the soju bottle to his lips, trying to drain the few drops left. If they were going to have this conversation once again he wanted to be too drunk to remember it the next day. 

“You don’t know shit.” 

The harshness in Hoseok’s voice startled Jungkook. “What don’t I know?” he retorted, narrowing his eyes.

“You don’t know if Jimin would reject you— and if I didn’t love the fucking shit out of you, Kook-ah, I’d call you an asshole for assuming you do.”

“I’m not assuming—”

“Yes,” Hoseok said firmly. “You are.” 

“I just want him in my life,” Jungkook said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m— I’m afraid he’ll—” He found he couldn’t go on, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

“What, abandon you?” Hoseok finished. His voice was quiet and soothing now, all the firmness from a moment earlier gone. “Cut you out of his life? The Jiminie I know— the Jiminie you know, would never do that, Kook-ah. Never. He loves you too much to do that.”

“But what if—” Jungkook croaked.

Hoseok cut him off. “He deserves to know. Trust him. After all you’ve been through together, he deserves the truth. For both your sakes.”    

🎅

God, he was nervous.

In fact, Jungkook — the earliest to arrive for a change — was so nervous he’d chugged two beers before everyone else had even shown up. 

The restaurant was one that he’d passed frequently on his way to and from work, but had been way too pricey for Jungkook to even think about eating at. The interior was decked out for Christmas, but tastefully so. Matte red and gold Christmas tree decorations had been placed carefully in discreet locations so as not to overwhelm the overall aesthetic — and everything in this restaurant positively screamed aesthetic. 

Employees hastened instead of rushed. The food was arranged on plates instead of simply placed there. The customers dined instead of ate. Jungkook doubted his rowdy friends would fit in very well.

Jungkook’s red gift bag, unadorned except for a tag that read TO: JIMIN in plain block letters, sat at the end of the table with everyone else’s gifts. Gift opening always happened after dinner, and Jungkook cynically wondered if his stress would cause him to have an aneurism before they even got to that point. 

The rules for their Secret Santa had gotten more and more complicated as the years passed. Ultimately, the goal was to make it more fun, although sometimes (read: many times, at least in Jungkook’s eyes) it seemed like way more trouble than it was worth. After last year’s exchange, everyone had decided (read: Seokjin had decided, and then he had persuaded everyone else to agree with him) that they should make the gift giver anonymous, and try to guess who their gift was from after they’d opened it.

“It’s boring if I know my gift is from Yoongi before I even open it. Where’s the fun in that? I’ll already know it’ll be lame,” Seokjin had said, earning an insulted “Hey!” from Yoongi — just what Seokjin had wanted. Yoongi and everyone else knew he was only trying to get a rise out of him. Their bickering was never serious — those two were thick as thieves, always trading barbs back and forth — but they also shared their differing philosophies and thoughts with each other. Jungkook had always thought that the stark differences in their personalities and opinions, and their open-mindedness about it, made them perfect companions for each other.

“I want mystery! I want excitement! I want a challenge!” Seokjin had proclaimed in the voice that had made his variety show the king of Saturday night TV land. 

His lucrative career had started by chance — Seokjin had landed a bit role on television after auditioning on a dare. A savvy producer for the show had recognized his natural talent for making even the mundane entertaining, and hooked Seokjin up with the right people. He’d quickly made a name for himself, and now, three short years later, Seokjin was co-hosting the top-rated show on KBS.

This year would be the first test of Seokjin’s idea — to see if it added anything to their fun, or if the whole thing would be more trouble than it was worth.

So now there was only a TO: written on the gifts present, no FROM: — and each bag was the same size and color . Overkill, Jungkook thought, but it did add to the air of anonymity they’d agreed to.

The other guidelines for their Secret Santa gift exchange were simple, and had remained the same the whole time they’d been doing it. They consisted of only two hard and fast rules. One, the amount each gift giver was allowed to spend was a measly ₩35,000 — and two, the gift had to be funny in some way. Rude, disgusting, ugly, satirical — you name it, but the entire goal of the exchange was to make the group — but more importantly, the recipient — laugh. 

Jungkook hoped he’d be forgiven for breaking the rules tonight. The whole Eunwoo situation, and Hoseok’s words, had stoked a fire in his belly.

Jimin attracted attention wherever he went, always had. Random guys would hit him up at clubs or parties, slip him their phone numbers at coffee shops, restaurants, pretty much anywhere and everywhere — Jimin could take his pick. But the few boyfriends Jimin had chosen to spend his time with in the past were just dudes. He'd never truly been serious about any of them, and for most of those guys it had been the same. Jimin had been a pleasant pastime for them — and while Jimin accepted and enjoyed their attention, he was never interested in taking things to a deeper level, allowing them only a superficial familiarity with who he was. 

That was back when Jungkook had been a permanent, every day, every night fixture in Jimin’s life, when they were still spending tons of time together — and that closeness hadn’t been limited to only while they’d been attending university. He and Jimin had maintained that same closeness for almost the entire time they’d known each other, five whole years — that is, until Jungkook’s career had included promotions and heavy workloads and horrible decisions that had distanced them. 

It had been easy for Jungkook to see that those other guys, those guys Jimin had fooled around with in the past, had been no threat to displace him. Deep down, he’d known that Jimin could never fall in love with anyone so shallow, whose interest in him had been so casual and fleeting. None of them had loved Jimin, or ever could, the way that Jungkook did — with a pure, enduring, unconditional, devoted love. Someday, Jungkook had told himself back then, still full of hope and optimism. Someday I’ll tell him.  

Except it turned out he was a chickenshit, and someday had never come.

Maybe none of those guys had threatened Jungkook’s permanent place in Jimin’s life, but this one — this Cha Eunwoo, he was different. Even his name felt ominous to Jungkook. 

There were lots of reasons Jungkook felt much more concerned, more panicked, this time. Eunwoo worked with Jimin, which gave them ample opportunity to see each other. Their jobs at the same non-profit, providing support and services to the underserved LGBTQ+ community in Seoul, meant they had similar interests, goals, and passions. Obviously they liked each other enough to hang out frequently, often enough that they’d become close in the short time between Jimin’s birthday and Christmas.

More than all that though, was the fact that Jimin thought enough of Eunwoo to bring him to Namjoon’s party and introduce him to all of their friends — including Jungkook. Jimin had been positively excited to introduce Jungkook to Eunwoo. Jungkook couldn’t forget the way Jimin shone that night — and he had no idea if that was because Jungkook had been there, or because Jimin had been with Eunwoo — had come to Namjoon’s party with Eunwoo. 

If you added all of that up, and coupled it with the way Jungkook and Jimin had inadvertently grown apart — it seemed like the perfect storm. It was the perfect opportunity for someone like Eunwoo to swoop in and steal Jimin’s heart. 

And there was no denying what Jungkook had seen in Eunwoo’s eyes when they had gazed at Jimin. He was all too familiar with that feeling.

Hoseok had been right that night in the kitchen — if Jungkook hesitated any longer, he was going to miss his chance.

That surge of jealousy and fear had pushed Jungkook to a rash decision — very rash, he worried, now that everyone was seated around him chattering happily. This wasn’t the place or time for a love confession. What the fuck had he been thinking? In lieu of bolting, Jungkook signaled to a server to bring him another bottle of soju. He’d need a couple (or ten) if he was going to get through this dinner.

When he’d entered the restaurant, the host had taken his gift, hiding it in a back room until everyone had been seated. The seven identical red bags were currently located on a serving tray sitting on a moveable jack at the end of the table. Not really the most stable solution, but the seven of them barely fit around their table as it was. They were basically sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, with Jimin seated directly across from Jungkook, looking pretty in his soft red sweater.  

As hard as some of them had probably tried, Jungkook could identify a few of the gift givers by their handwriting alone. He thought he’d done a good job of disguising his, hoping that Jimin wouldn’t recognize his penmanship before he’d opened it — but maybe it was pointless to worry about something as inconsequential as that. Once Jimin had opened it, he’d know it was from Jungkook immediately. He hadn’t disguised anything there, not his handwriting, and not his heart — the precise reason why Jungkook was so nervous.

Dinner passed by in a blur of laughter, conversation, and grilled meat — and too many soju shots to count. Left behind was a literal mountain of dishes and empty bottles, which all had to be cleared before the gift giving could commence. Jungkook felt bad for the restaurant employees — bussing tables had been one of the part time jobs he’d had while he had been in school, and it wasn’t a job he looked back on fondly. It sucked.

There were two people clearing their table, while another brought out yet another round of drinks — lowball glasses of scotch whiskey this time, courtesy of Yoongi. Despite all the alcohol in his system, Jungkook couldn’t sit still, squirming in his seat as he tried to avoid Jimin’s gaze.

“JK-yah, why don’t you give the toast?” Yoongi suggested once they all had glasses in hand. A server reached past Jungkook, removing yet another serving dish to add to the stack she was currently carrying.

“M-Me?” Jungkook sputtered, “why me? I wouldn’t know what to say.” 

“Because it was your original idea, after all — Joon-ah just brought your vision to life.” 

“Jungkook-ah always has the most creative ideas, doesn’t he, Namjoon hyung?” Jimin said, flashing a blinding smile in Jungkook’s direction.

Namjoon laughed. “Yeah, he does. Maybe you should have been the novelist instead of me, Kook-ah.” The young busser moved around the table silently, bowing her head politely to each of them as she reached past them.

Jungkook bent his head in thanks at a server who removed his empty plate, trying to stall. “You’re better at these kinds of things, hyung,” he said, but Yoongi appeared unmoved, watching him expectantly.

“Go on,” Jimin said to Jungkook, nudging his foot under the table. Jimin shifted in his seat to allow the server to fill his water glass, murmuring a small thank you as she did.

“It doesn’t need to be anything profound,” Hoseok encouraged, nudging him with his elbow. “You’re not giving a speech.”

“Kook-ah, when you’re drinking scotch, you should always add a hearty slàinte! to the end of your toast,” Yoongi added unhelpfully.

Jungkook rolled that word around on his tongue for a minute before whole-heartedly rejecting that idea.

Now everyone was watching him — apparently he wasn’t going to get out of it. Jungkook cleared his throat nervously, glancing at Jimin for encouragement as he raised his glass. Everyone else followed his lead, six sets of eyes waiting in anticipation.

“Here’s to—” Jungkook began, but was quickly interrupted — his hands were so shaky he almost dropped his glass in surprise.

“Stand up, stand up!” Taehyung cried, his eyes glittering in delight. 

Nothing brought Taehyung more joy than teasing Jungkook, and normally Jungkook could handle it, knowing it was all in good fun, but at the current moment he was not in the mood. Jungkook stood reluctantly, and a little unsteadily, frowning at Taehyung. His chair screeched on the smooth floor as he pushed it out from the table. 

The piercing noise startled the server who’d been clearing the remaining glasses from the end of the table. The young man backed up suddenly, bumping up against the tray holding the gifts, and they tumbled to the ground. 

A cry went up from the nearby employees and they converged on the spot, murmuring apologies as a flurry of hands righted the tray and situated the presents on top, side-by-side. Most of the bags looked none the worse for wear, although one had a small tear in it, and a few of the name tags were hanging askew. The manager came over and apologized profusely to Yoongi, who happened to be seated at that end.

In the chaos, Jungkook had sloshed his drink onto both his shirt and pants, most of it landing on his brand new cream-colored sweater, the brown liquid spread quickly in the soft knit. “Shit,” he muttered, falling into his seat, trying to wipe it off with his hand. Turning to Hoseok he asked, “Does whiskey stain?” 

“Oh, shit,” Hoseok exclaimed when he saw the spot. “I think it does, Jungkookie. Here.” He quickly dipped his napkin into his water glass, but the paper began falling apart as soon as started to scrub at it.

“Nevermind,” Jungkook muttered, excusing himself from the table and making a somewhat uncoordinated beeline for the bathroom — the sudden movement had made his head swim.

Once inside, he stripped off his shirt and ran it under the hot water tap for a minute, then under the hand dryer for another. He appraised the sweater with a frown. It was still slightly damp, and the shape of the soon-to-be stain was still faintly visible, but it would have to do for now.

Back at the table, the rest of the guys were waiting for him, happily distracted by something funny Hoseok was saying. They’d distributed the gift bags, and Jungkook saw that he had a new whiskey glass at his seat. When he approached the table, Namjoon stood up, glass in hand — apparently Jungkook had been relieved of toasting duties. He sank into his chair with a sigh of relief.

“Did it come out?” Hoseok asked.

“Kookie-yah, you ok?” Jimin asked at almost the same time.

Jungkook waved them both off and nodded toward Namjoon, who was waiting patiently with that glazed smile he always had when he’d had a few too many beers, but he looked truly happy. It looked good on him. 

“I know we do this every year, but it’s doubly special to me to have all of you with me to celebrate my first book deal — um, hopefully the first of many.” Namjoon chuckled self-consciously, but recovered when he saw the conviction in the eyes of all his friends. No one understood Namjoon’s talent, and his struggle, better than the people in attendance tonight. They all knew with certainty that this was just the beginning for their friend.

“Here’s to all of you guys, and to our friendship, and to my geniusness—” everyone laughed at that, “— and to many more years spent together.” There was a smattering of applause and fond smiles all around. “Oh! And here’s to Christmas, and possibly the best Secret Santa gift ever, if I do say so myself.”

“Those are big words considering the gift Seokjin brought last year,” Jimin said, his eyes twinkling in humor at Jungkook.  

A roar of laughter went up, and Yoongi groaned. “You guys don’t have to live with that thing staring at you everyday.”

“Why do you even still have it, hyung?” Hoseok laughed. “Just get rid of it.”

“He won’t let me,” Yoongi whined, pointing an accusatory finger in Seokjin’s direction. “He insists I display it in my living room.”

“Who wouldn’t want a ceramic surfing monkey piggy bank in their living room?” Seokjin retorted. “It’s handmade in Mexico.” When no one seemed moved by his opinion he argued, “What? It’s a great conversation starter!”

“Isn’t it the size of a small dog?” Jungkook goaded him. He winced when Seokjin’s voice got even higher, but it had made Jimin laugh, which was his goal all along.

“All the better! No one will miss seeing it! Do you know how much time I spent picking that out for you, Yoongi?” Seokjin ranted. “You really should appreciate it more.”

“Jin hyung,” Yoongi said weakly. “Have some mercy, for fuck’s sake. It’s been a whole year.”

“Fine!” Seokjin crossed his arms and turned his head away from Yoongi. “Fine, if that’s how little I mean to you.”

Namjoon was still standing, watching this exchange with mild exasperation. “Ok, can we actually finish this toast now?”

Seokjin clamped his mouth shut. “Sure. Sorry Joonie.” He held his drink aloft, sloshing a little over the side in his enthusiasm. “Here’s to the best author we know!” he shouted, probably hoping to appease Namjoon — and it seemed to work, because Namjoon just shook his head and smiled.

“Geonbae!” Everyone shouted, reaching to clink their glasses before taking a drink. Only Taehyung and Hoseok sputtered — Jungkook relished the flavor on his tongue. Yoongi had excellent taste in scotch. He’d taught Jungkook how to taste and enjoy it, and this one was clearly expensive. 

Once again, Jungkook’s eyes met Jimin’s across the table, and his stomach clenched in anxiety. It was really happening. He felt like he might vomit. Maybe the scotch, on top of all the other alcohol already in his bloodstream, had been a mistake. 

The gift bag Jungkook had put his letter in was sitting in front of Jimin, the bright red a fitting color for something that was filled with such love, yet fraught with such danger. Everything hinged on the next few minutes. 

When Jungkook had finally decided to throw caution to the wind — and perhaps his good sense and dignity — and finally confess, he’d pondered how to make it work. He couldn’t put only the letter in the bag, because Jimin would need to produce some sort of funny gift for the others to see. Desperate, Jungkook had finally purchased the spookiest, most decrepit doll he could find at the antique store down the street from his house.

She was old and battered, with dull hair partially knotted and with big chunks of it missing — possibly hacked off by a child. She wore a discolored pale pink ruffled dress, the lace underskirts ripped and dragging. Her body was soft and floppy, but her limbs stuck out in stiff, unnatural angles like a mannequin. But spookiest of all was her face — pale, porcelain skin marred by scratches and dirt, pink pouting lips chipped, and with eyes such a pale blue, the irises were practically indistinguishable from the whites. Her vacant stare was the stuff of nightmares.

Held in her creepy clutches was the letter. 

Jungkook fervently hoped Jimin had the good sense not to open the letter in front of everyone. He’d written Please Do Not Open at the Table in black ink on the back of the envelope — he hoped that Jimin would take that warning seriously, and not think it was just part of the joke.

It wasn’t really a funny gift — although a declaration of love being delivered by something that was reminiscent of death was a dark humor Jungkook could appreciate — but he’d wrung his hands for so long he’d run out of time to think of something better. He desperately hoped that the messenger wouldn’t take away from the message. 

“So how should we do this? I’m so excited to open our gifts!” Hoseok chirped happily. He loved the Secret Santa exchange, and always put a ton of thought and effort into finding the perfect gift for his recipient. The more belly laughs from the group, the more delighted Hoseok felt, and he never failed to find the gift given to him as anything other than the most hilarious thing he’d ever seen. In fact, the gift he’d been given last year took a place of prominence on a shelf in his living room. 

Taehyung had been his gift giver. At first glance, Hoseok’s gift looked like those cheap plastic cups with a straw that Jungkook had seen frozen drinks served in at a fair — but instead of being a neon pink palm tree, this one was shaped like a giant black dildo, and the straw coming out the top was white. A delighted Taehyung, most likely humorously referencing their not-so-secret sex life (and the purported size of his dick) had watched Hoseok first turn a mortified red, then recover and eventually relish the genius of the joke. 

Bile rose in Jungkook’s throat at the mention of opening gifts. He belatedly wished he’d told Hoseok his plan about the letter, because he could really use the emotional support right now. 

“I think hyung should go first,” Yoongi said distractedly, suddenly deep in conversation with Hoseok, waving his hand in Seokjin’s direction. “It’s only fair.” 

Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief, temporarily relieved that it wasn’t Jimin. Still, his fingers drummed on his knee under the table, unable to focus on anything but Jimin, gaze darting away when he got caught staring. Jimin’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, but then he returned to chatting with Taehyung. If he kept this up, Jungkook would only draw more attention to himself. He clenched his hands into fists. Get it together.

Seokjin clapped once, elbowing Namjoon as he laughed. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he said to Yoongi, laughing. “A real respect for the elder among us.” 

Hoseok chuckled and murmured to Yoongi behind his hand. “You just don’t want to go first.”

Yoongi grinned. “We’re in the middle of a conversation. You know Seokjin will drag this out forever, so we’ll have plenty of time.”

Hoseok laughed as Seokjin stood, rubbing his hands together. Jungkook’s eyes fixed on Jimin again, who was grinning as he whispered something to Taehyung. He fell over in laughter when Taehyung said something back — and then they both looked directly at Jungkook and giggled again. 

Jungkook barely registered anything that was happening at the far end of the table. Seokjin had apparently opened his gift, because Jungkook heard him reacting to it, but he wasn’t listening. He was too caught up in his own head and his thoughts of Jimin. It had been too long since Jungkook had had the chance to truly appreciate his beauty. It was only enhanced by the alcohol that made Jimin giggly, pink-cheeked and affectionate as he played with Taehyung’s curls, his knees pulled to his chest. It made Jungkook ache with want. 

Tonight. Tonight Jimin would know. 

It was only when Seokjin began talking in his television personality voice, as if he was reading a script off of a teleprompter, that Jungkook paid him any notice.

“Oh, this is delightful! Someone is really trying to get on my good side!” Seokjin said, swaying dangerously as he held himself up by the back of Namjoon’s chair. “ How do I tell you that when you walk into a room, I can’t take my eyes off of you?”  

Jungkook froze in place. His heart stopped. No.

Seokjin continued joyfully, as at least a few people seemed amused. “How can I explain how my heart sings at the sound of your laughter, and that I desperately want to always be the one who makes you laugh like that?” Seokjin laughed, high and squeaky. “Oh, I can certainly understand why someone would feel that way about me!” he said, flinging a hand over his heart. “Although, I’m not sure anyone is funnier than I am, but mystery gift giver, you may certainly try.”

Jungkook sank further into his seat and glanced at Jimin, who was enthusiastically watching Seokjin. Everyone was riveted by Seokjin’s performance now, chuckling along, hanging raptly on every word.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. His hand reached for Hoseok under the table, squeezing his wrist tightly.

“Kook-ah?” Hoseok asked, looking down at Jungkook’s hand, then back up to his face. “What’s wrong?”

“How can I find the words to express what I think of you as a person? How much I admire you?” Namjoon playfully slapped Seokjin’s shoulder, rocking in laughter. “Oh, this is so touching, I think I might cry,” Seokjin said dramatically before reading the last part. “How much I look up to you?”

Turning to Hoseok, Jungkook desperately choked out, “S’mine,” unable to say more. His voice was drowned out by the whoops and chatter around the table as he searched Hoseok’s face for understanding. Please understand. Please stop him, Jungkook prayed, because his feet felt like lead. “Please,” Jungkook said, but he wasn’t sure Hoseok could hear him.

“There’s only one way to say it, only one true emotion that explains it—” boomed Seokjin’s voice, barely audible over the ringing in Jungkook’s ears. 

No, don’t say it, Jungkook thought desperately. Don’t finish that sentence.

When Hoseok hesitated in confusion, Jungkook turned in Seokjin’s direction. “Hyung, stop—” but his quiet words went unnoticed.

“Oh, I recognize this handwriting!” Seokjin said gleefully, waving a hand in Jungkook’s direction. “It’s our Jungkookie, isn’t it? Ah, I should have known it was you.” He scanned the letter, his finger running up and down the page as he looked for his spot. “Oh, now where was I? Ah yes, here we are — the one and only secret I’ve ever kept from you.” 

Seokjin looked around the table, eyes glazed, mouth stretched in a smile that was both simpering and smug, as if he was the one keeping the secret from his rapt audience. He swayed, steadying himself on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Oh, I wonder what it could be! This is so exciting!”

Hoseok was on his feet, swiftly rounding the table, but he was a step too late — Seokjin was way too drunk, and too far into his role to pay attention to the flurry of movement to his right.

Jungkook whimpered, “Hyung, no— stop,” but he could barely hear it himself. More loudly this time, he tried again. “It’s not your letter, stop, it’s—” 

“Park Jimin, I’m in love with you.”  

Seokjin stopped abruptly with a harsh intake of breath. He scanned the rest of the letter before looking up, eyes wide. “Jungkook?”

Hoseok ripped the letter out of Seokjin’s hand as the whole table went silent.

Jungkook couldn’t look at Jimin. He couldn’t look at anyone. He wanted to sink into the floor or evaporate into mist or be warped into another dimension — anything than sit at this table with all of his friends staring at him. He could feel the weight of their gazes even with his eyes squeezed shut.

“You dumbshit.” Hoseok was the first one to break the silence. “Fuck— Jin hyung, if you’d bothered to look, you missed the whole first side of this letter — the letter addressed to Jimin.” Jungkook braved a look at that end of the table, but pointedly avoided looking at Jimin. He might never be able to look at Jimin again.

Hoseok picked up the envelope and snorted. “Oh, and this whole Please Do Not Open at the Table — guess you missed that, too.”

Seokjin blanched, looking from the papers in Hoseoks’ hands to his face, and finally at Jungkook. “Kook-ah, shit, I’m—” Seokjin let the rest of that sentence fall away, the oppressive air at the table sucking the apology from his lips. 

Jungkook had never felt so humiliated, nor exposed. He buried his head in his arms, staring at the floor beneath the table. He heard someone — Taehyung, he thought, say, “But the tag says JIN … oh wait.” Then everyone was talking, a jumble of words and voices muted by the roar in Jungkook’s ears.

“Oh, shit, it looks like the tags got mixed up when the bags fell.” 

“Everyone, check to see if your bag’s tag is secured properly — oh, here’s the correct one, thanks hyung.” 

“What about yours, hyung?” 

“Yeah, ok, I think we’re good now.”

Then it went suddenly silent again.

Namjoon, seated to Jungkook’s left, made first contact, patting Jungkook’s shoulder awkwardly. “It’ll be ok.”

It suddenly struck Jungkook that maybe his reaction was making things worse.

It was out there now. He hadn’t wanted his friends to find out this way, and he definitely hadn’t wanted Jimin to find out this way. But the way he was behaving — as if loving Jimin was something he was ashamed of, was far worse than his own embarrassment.

Jungkook loved Jimin. Jimin knew it, everyone knew it, and it was too late to go back now. 

A sharp kick to his shin startled Jungkook. When he finally turned his eyes in the direction it had come from, he found a very intense Jimin staring at him from across the table. His expression was unlike any that Jungkook had ever seen on his face.

“Jeon Jung kook,” Jimin said, a little more loudly than necessary, since everyone else at the table was hushed, captivated by the still unfolding drama and waiting for what would happen next. 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around the table before landing back on Jimin. “Jiminie—” he began weakly, but Jimin slapped his palm flat to the table, making Jungkook wince. 

Jimin pointed at him — but actually, no. He was pointing at the gift bag still sitting in front of Jungkook. “Open it,” he all but demanded.

Jungkook felt all the blood drain from his body. “What—?” 

“Just— open it,” Jimin repeated, more softly this time. “Please.”

Jungkook’s head spun. What could this possibly mean? Was Jimin really going to ignore what had just happened? He hadn’t even asked to see the letter. 

Hoseok was standing behind Jungkook’s chair, and from the corner of his eye Jungkook could see the letter clutched in one of his hands. The other began massaging the back of Jungkook’s neck — a strong, reassuring pressure that Jungkook had desperately needed.

Reaching across the table, Hoseok put the letter down in front of Jimin — but Jimin barely spared it a glance, all his energy entirely focused on Jungkook. 

Trying to hide the tremor in his hands, Jungkook peeked into the bag. The gift seemed to be hidden under a mound of sparkly tissue paper with cute little Santa faces printed all over it. That’s so Jimin, Jungkook instinctively thought, almost chuckling — then stopped. Wait. That was it, wasn’t it? The gift he was opening must be from Jimin. He’d gotten Jimin’s name — and somehow, Jimin had gotten his. Odd.

There were numerous items at the bottom of the bag, all individually wrapped. Jungkook took the first out and glanced at Jimin. “It’s from you?”

Jimin’s demeanor had undergone a transformation — from fierce, to unsure, shy. His cheeks were dusted in pink as he nodded once. “Yes,” he said.

Jungkook held the first bundle in his hand. It was surprisingly heavy, and somehow felt familiar. When he opened it, it was — banana milk?

“Just, keep going,” Jimin said. “If you don’t figure it out, I’ll explain.” Jungkook was bursting with questions, but dutifully did as he’d been told.

The next package held a Choco Pie.

“Is this, um, for dessert?” Jungkook tried to guess. He was trying to see the joke, but so far nothing seemed funny.

Jimin pointed at the bag. “Open.”

Jungkook dutifully opened each of the remaining gifts. A box of Pepero. Cup noodles. Samyan Jjangu. 

“Jimin hyung, did you forget we’d be at a restaurant?” Jungkook chuckled in incredulity as the next package contained gimbap and a boiled egg that had been carefully wrapped in a flexible cold pack. “I don’t really—”

“I couldn’t figure out how to wrap a hotbar,” Jimin said apologetically, “or I would have.”

“Hot bar?” Jungkook was really confused now. “Huh?” He stared at the food piled in front of him, trying to make any sense of what he was seeing. “I— I’m sorry, hyung. I don’t get it.”

“I told you he wouldn’t remember,” Jimin said, shooting a glare at Taehyung.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me, I was so sure!” Taehyung cried. He pointed an accusatory finger at Jungkook. “And here I had such high hopes for you.” Jungkook withered under his glare until Taehyung broke out into a wide grin, elbowing Jimin jovially. “Doesn’t really matter anymore though, does it, Jiminie?”

Jungkook heard a deep sigh from Yoongi’s end of the table, but he ignored it, determined to figure out the puzzle. He checked the bag one last time for anything he may have missed. Bright silver confetti fell out when he turned the bag upside down. No note. Nothing to give him a clue.

“This isn’t funny in the slightest, and they didn’t even keep their names secret from each other,” Seokjin complained. Six pairs of eyes whipped to him, and he shrunk away from the veiled threat behind their gazes. “Sorry— sorry,” he said, holding his hands defensively. “Geez, I just thought the whole point—”

“It’s your fault things are so awkward,” Taehyung said, punishing him with a sharp twist of his nipple. Seokjin screeched in pain, but kept his mouth shut after that. 

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung crooned, “ask Jiminie what all this,” he gestured at the treasure trove of junk food spread before him, “means.”

Jungkook looked back and forth between them. “Uh, Jiminie hyung?”

Jimin looked up as if surprised at the sound of his name. “Oh yeah. Sure.” He gulped and straightened his shoulders. “Do you remember the convenience store by campus?” Jimin began, wringing his hands in his lap. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook answered, wondering why the conversation had veered in that direction. “I used to go there all the time.”

Jimin glanced at Taehyung, who patted his hand encouragingly. “What about the first time, um, we went there together?”

Of course he remembered that day — the memory came back to Jungkook in a flash. 

It had been late autumn, maybe three weeks after they’d first met. As it turned out, Jimin and Jungkook’s last classes had finished up at the same time every Thursday — so one Wednesday afternoon Jungkook had suggested they hang out the next day after class. His feelings for Jimin as a friend, as someone Jungkook wanted to know better, had just begun to bloom, and he’d been desperate to find ways to spend more time with him. 

Jungkook felt giddy at the memory of how fresh those feelings had been back then — so new, so effervescent, the beginning of something that would soon be so much more.

The air had been crisp that day, the sky clear and blue for once, yellow and orange leaves freshly fallen on the pavement — the perfect autumn day. Jimin had picked a particularly pretty leaf up as they’d walked and tucked it behind Jungkook’s ear with a peal of laughter, his cheeks pink from the chill. He remembered how the afternoon sun had bathed the world in tones of gold, but nothing had shone brighter in Jungkook’s eyes than Jimin.

It was the first time they’d had a chance to really talk without being interrupted — he’d forgotten the exact conversation, but did remember the feeling. Talking to Jimin always felt like the easiest thing in the world. He listened so attentively, and with so much care and concern — about Jungkook’s homesickness, his struggles to fit in at school, his worries about letting his parents down. Jimin had been his most important confidant, and biggest support, from the very beginning.

“Yeah, I remember that day — well, most of it? At least I think I do,” Jungkook admitted somewhat sheepishly, because he had this feeling he was supposed to remember something specific. How was he supposed to remember something specific about a day five years ago? “What does this— oh.” The convenience store. “This is food you can get at the convenience store. Is that it?” 

Jimin nodded expectantly. “Yes. And?”

“And… what?” Jungkook asked, looking around the table at equally confused faces. “Am I supposed to understand something more than that?”

“Yes,” Jimin said with a deep sigh. “This—” he swept his hand over the table, “this is what you ate that day.”

“I ate all of this? Exactly this?” Jungkook asked, furrowing his brow. Some of his favorite snacks were on the table. He’d eaten plenty of Choco Pies and cup noodles in Jimin’s dorm room back then, their noses stuck in textbooks as they’d stayed up for all night cram sessions, sitting beside each other on Jimin’s bed. If he ate this crap now, he’d probably gain five kilograms in a week. “Wow, my metabolism must have been really great.” 

Jimin chuckled weakly. “Yeah.” His index finger restlessly flicked at the edge of the chip bag, the crinkle of plastic the only sound at the table. “If you'll recall, I insisted on paying that day, because—”

“Because you’re the hyung,” Jungkook finished, and Jimin smiled.

That was a given. Jimin had never allowed Jungkook to pay for anything, ever — to the point of one time conspiring with the waitstaff at a restaurant to run Jimin’s credit card instead of Jungkook’s. Jungkook hadn’t even known until the next time he’d checked his card balance.  

“Jimin hyung, I’m still missing something— why do you remember exactly what I ate that day?”

Jimin didn’t answer, just asked another infuriatingly confusing question. “And after we bought food— do you know what we did for the rest of that day?”

“Can’t you just tell me?” Jungkook asked in desperation. “I think you must remember it better than I do.” His hands shook under the table. He didn’t understand what Jimin was doing, and why he hadn’t responded at all to Jungkook’s letter. It was hard to concentrate on much of anything when all of that — his confession, the culmination of his years of longing — was just hanging in the air between them. “I just want to— please , hyung. Please take some pity on me. I’ve— I’ve already been through a lot tonight.” 

Seokjin had the decency to drop gaze to his lap. The rest of the group were riveted on the scene before them, including Taehyung, but his smug smile and earlier hilarity faltered when he saw Jungkook’s face.

“It’s ok, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok whispered to him. He’d taken his seat again, but his hand resumed the kneading of the back of Jungkook’s neck. “Take a breath.” 

Jungkook did as he was told, gulping air before remembering to 

Jimin’s face crumpled. “Oh, this is— I didn’t mean—” 

Jimin stopped and took a deep breath himself — and Jungkook felt the sting of tears when he realized they were both breathing. They were each silently counting the seconds, in and out, together — both trying to calm down so that they could talk. 

“I’m so sorry, Jungkookie. Your letter was so beautiful and— fuck. I’m so sorry,” Jimin said in a rush. “I’ll— ok.” Jimin glanced at Taehyung, who gave him a little nod and a smile. “I’ll explain.”

Jungkook, ironically enough, held his breath.

“Back then, when you asked me to hang out? I’d thought, I’d hoped— well, I’d thought it was a date.”

“A date?” Jungkook choked. “Why would you think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jimin bit back.

“B-Because! Jungkook spluttered, incredulous. “I was just some dorky freshman you’d only known for, like, two weeks,” he explained. “I would never, ever have had the guts to ask someone as perfect, as beautiful, as you out on a date.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything that day to discourage me from thinking that,” Jimin countered. “Well, not until nothing happened.”

“What do you mean, nothing happened?”

Taehyung burst into a fit of giggles, and Jimin whacked him — once, twice, until Taehyung moved out of range of his hand. “Owwww,” he whined, rubbing the spot. “You’re mean.” He flinched away from Jimin’s glare. 

Jimin turned his attention back to Jungkook. “We went back to your dorm and watched movies on your bed, under a blanket!” Jimin said a little hysterically, looking around for the support of his friends. “I waited for you to make a move the whole time!”

“You did?” Jungkook thought he might be having an aneurysm. Was his whole life a lie? 

Taehyung was once again having a hard time controlling his laughter. He had his hand pressed tightly over his mouth, and he'd slid so far out of his chair he was practically on the floor.

“Yes, you idiot!” 

“Why didn’t you do something then? Why are you putting all the blame on me?” Jungkook retorted. “I didn't even know it was a date!”

“I figured I must’ve been wrong about the date thing.”

“Well, you kinda were?” Jungkook said uncertainly. “But only because I never thought you’d be interested in someone like me!” Jungkook rushed to clarify. “Trust me hyung, if I’d thought I had any chance in hell, any at all, I would’ve asked you out.”

Taehyung fell over into Seokjin’s lap, shoulders shaking as he buried his face in Seokjin’s shirt, trying to suppress his cackles.

Jimin crossed his arms. “I was trying to recreate that day, but with a different ending this time,” he said, nodding toward the food. “This was supposed to be a romantic way for me to confess!”

Jungkook’s heart stuttered to a stop. He’s confessing. To me. Jimin’s confessing to me.   

Jimin was still talking, all his words pouring out of him in a rush. “You know — we could eat the same things, go back to your place and watch the same movie,” he cleared his throat, “but you know, with something actually happening under that blanket.” Jimin went positively red when the table exploded in laughter, but he never took his eyes off of Jungkook.

Suddenly it was only the two of them at the table, everyone else fading into the background. 

All Jungkook could see was Jimin, and the sparkly effervescence of that long ago day began to pop through Jungkook’s shocked daze, making his skin tingle. Jimin had liked him, even then. Jimin liked him now. 

Jungkook’s heart began to sing a song it had forgotten a long time ago — one that began and ended with Jimin, and sounded like hope.

Jungkook chewed his lip nervously before he said the next words. This moment felt important, the air around them charged and he had a sudden urgency to tell Jimin how he felt. He’d shared his soul on the pages of the letter he’d written, but he’d never spoken it aloud. “I loved you back then too, you know,” he said quietly, his voice cracking at the end. 

“You did?” Jimin whispered, eyes going misty.

“I would’ve taken you out on a million dates if I’d known, hyung— but maybe someplace more exciting than the convenience store. You have surprisingly low standards,” Jungkook chuckled, his heart lightening when Jimin’s eyes disappeared behind his cheeks in happiness.

“Only for you, Jungkookie,” Jimin laughed.

“You guys are idiots,” Yoongi muttered, but he was grinning behind his glass of whiskey. No one was laughing anymore, and when Jungkook looked around, every one of their friends was smiling just as widely. Hoseok looked like he was holding back tears.

Jungkook’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest. “So, does this mean?” he asked Jimin, floating, breathless, light as a snowflake on the wind.

Jimin crooked a finger at him. “Lean forward.”

“What?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just do what he says,” Namjoon said, hands scrubbing over his face. A laugh burst forth from Seokjin before he remembered he’d been grounded.

Jungkook leaned forward — but apparently not far enough, because Jimin launched himself across the table at him, one hand squashing the gimbap as he did. 

He grabbed Jungkook by the shirt collar, pulling him out of his seat — and smashed their lips together where they met in the middle. Before Jungkook had a chance to even respond to it, Jimin broke the kiss with a gasp. Their lips remained mere inches apart, Jimin’s breath hot on his face. His hand still fisted Jungkook’s shirt, holding him in place, eyes intense and searching. 

“Jeon fucking Jungkook,” Jimin growled, shaking him a little. “You listen to me.”

Jungkook gulped. “Yes, hyung?” he said, voice a mere whisper as he stared at Jimin.

“Be my boyfriend.”

The table erupted in cheers, and Jungkook felt himself flush to the tips of his ears.

“O-ok,” Jungkook stammered. “I’d— fuck, I’d love to be your boyfriend, hyung.”

Bracing himself with both hands on the table, Jungkook closed the gap between them, lips upon lips, just as soft and warm as Jungkook had dreamed of for what felt like a lifetime. 

They kissed, oblivious to the world around them and the smashed snack food under their hands until the others started throwing their dirty napkins at them.

“Guess it’s time to go,” Jimin said jovially when they finally broke apart, grinning from ear to ear. He dropped into his seat and began collecting his things, folding the letter from Jungkook carefully and putting it into his bag. 

Jungkook shrugged at Namjoon, following Jimin’s lead. “Sorry, hyung. Congrats on the book, but— yeah. I’m leaving.”

Namjoon chuckled and shook his head. “Love you guys,” he said. “Get the hell out of here already. I can only watch so much of you guys kissing.” 

Jimin giggled. “That might not be the last time you see us kiss, Joonie hyung,” he chirped happily.

“What? You’re leaving?” Hoseok watched them gather their things. “What about the Secret Santa exchange?” he complained, hugging his gift bag to his chest — until the sound of broken glass tinkled inside. “Um.” He set the bag gingerly on the table.

“You guys have fun with that, I have no more secrets to share,” Jungkook said with a grin, meeting Jimin at the end of the table and wrapping Jimin’s smaller hand in his. Jungkook could have sworn he felt electricity zip up his arm as Jimin interlaced their fingers. “Besides, I think I already got the best gift ever.” 

Jimin lifted onto his tiptoes and kissed Jungkook’s cheek. Whispering into his ear, he said. “Um, we could go to my place? I might have another gift for you there.”

“Yeah, ok, so bye!” Jungkook said, briskly walking away, dragging Jimin along behind him by their linked hands. “So long! See ya later! Gotta run!” 

Jimin stumbled along behind him, giggling. “Bye everyone! Merry Christmas!” he called, waving with his free hand. 

Skipping forward, Jimin caught up with Jungkook — and pulled him into a kiss as they passed through the door, and out into the snowflake-filled air of their future.

Christmas would never be the same again.

🎅

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Jimin hyung,

I’ve been keeping a secret from you. I’ve held it so close to me for so long that I don’t know how to begin to share it with you. 

Ever since we first met, I’ve felt this connection to you. We have the same sense of humor, love the same movies and manga, and have watched all the same anime. We like the same kinds of food, like to stay up late, like winter better than summer. In those ways, we’re really similar. It’s never been like that with anyone else I’ve ever known. You’re always been the person I think of first when I hear a funny joke, or see something cool — I can’t help but feel like I want to share those moments with you.

In some ways, though, we’re complete opposites. I’m in awe at the way you find joy in everything around you — because where I see only negatives, you can see the positives, and you try to help me see it, too. I don’t always notice the little things that could make my life happier. I’m so grateful to you for showing me what it truly means to be happy. I wish I could say I always remember your optimistic way of looking at the world when we’re apart, but I’m trying. I would be a better person if I truly took your words to heart.

You always make me feel like my feelings and thoughts are important, no matter how trivial or tedious. It means so much to me, ‘cause as you know, a lot of the time I put myself down. You’ve always been my biggest supporter, believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and I don't know how I would’ve gotten through those hard times without you. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that. 

I hold such regret for the times when we’ve argued and I refused to see your point of view. I’ll never forgive myself for that day we fought — you know the one I mean, that day I got lost in the rain, where I was so distraught afterwards that I didn’t even know where I was. I was so desperate, so scared. I was afraid I’d lost you forever — but instead you waited, and forgave me like it was nothing. When you hugged me that day and cried along with me, I promised myself I’d never hurt you like that again. I’m not sure I’ve been able to keep that promise. I guess I’m filled with regrets when it comes to you and me.

I want you to know that I’ve never forgiven myself for what happened that day, not truly. I hope I can spend forever making it up to you. I hope you’ll let me.

Hyung, I can’t help but compare myself to you. You live your life so large, with so much conviction. You’re so strong in your beliefs, and so courageous in the face of what most days must feel like daunting challenges and a huge responsibility for the people you work so hard to help. You knew what you wanted right from the beginning and doggedly pursued it. I know how seriously you take your work, and you make a difference for people like us every day. I’m really proud of you. 

In contrast, I’m nothing much — just a guy who pushes papers and works too much overtime and never seems to have time for you anymore. I’m so, so sorry about that. I hope you know that I had a choice, I’d never leave your side. 

Or maybe I do have a choice. Maybe from now on, I’m going to make you my priority.

(con’t on other side)→→→→→→

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

How do I tell you that when you walk into a room, I can’t take my eyes off of you? 

How can I explain how my heart sings at the sound of your laughter, and that I desperately want to always be the one who makes you laugh like that?

How can I find the words to express what I think of you as a person? How much I admire you? How much I look up to you?

There’s only one way to say it, only one true emotion that explains it — the one and only secret I’ve ever kept from you.

Park Jimin, I’m in love with you. 

I love you.

Fuck. There, I’ve said it.

I think I’ve loved you from the first time you laughed at something I said, and I knew then and there that I wanted to hang on to that feeling forever — hang onto you forever. 

My heart feels like it might beat right out of my chest as I write these words, knowing you’ll read them, and I think I’ve stopped breathing, but finally. I finally let it out. Now you know, for better or for worse. I suppose I should feel a sense of relief, or like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders like they always say you do when you confess something you’ve been holding in for a long time — but I suppose that has to wait until you’ve actually read this, and I know your reaction. I probably won’t be able to sleep until I know how you feel.

I hope to god you are not sitting at the table reading this. I hope that you showed everyone that horrible doll (Seriously, she’s hideous. Sorry!) and kept this letter to yourself, to read later at home. I’m going to write something on the envelope I think, so that there are no accidents like that. I wouldn’t want either of us to be embarrassed in front of everyone.

If you don’t love me back, that’s ok. I promise. Really. I’m not just saying that, hyung. I would never want to make you feel bad about how you feel. As hard as it might be, I’d accept your decision and never pressure you for more. I hope you’d still want to be friends, though.

If you do love me back — wow. Hyung, I would devote my life to making you happy. You never feel unloved, not for an instant. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I’m not going to beg, because either you feel it or you don’t — I’m not dumb enough to think this letter will change your mind about anything —  but I hope you give me a chance. I pray you’ll give us a chance. 

You’re my best friend first, for now and always. I hope you feel the same way about me, at least in that respect. And I promise I’ll do better — even if nothing comes from this confession, I’ll be your best friend again. I’ll make room for you in my life. You’re way too precious to me to let our relationship fade away like it has been these past few months. 

Just, please call me, ok? Whenever you read this, whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here. 

I love you. 

Jungkook

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

🎅🎅🎅