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Caught amongst the hectic blur of strenuous schedules during the day and endless nights in the practice room, Jungkook feels tired. And beneath the talent, skill and determination of his older members, he feels very small.
‘Golden Maknae’ they call him. Jungkook bitterly wishes that would stop the taunting at school: the whispers and snide remarks at the school he only needs to attend as a formality. His attendance is minimal and his grades are the poorest they have ever been, so what’s the point? And yet, in comparison to the other members, what is he really? The shy kid who can sing and dance to a degree, and can try to keep up with a rap that someone else has written for him. The very real possibility of not being good enough for the group is what fills him with suffocating dread as he lies awake the night before a rare morning or afternoon of school, but also what pulls him into the classroom despite its envious and cruel inhabitants. If his dream of being with the group fails, then he should at least not abandon his education so young. So Jungkook tries to grow up as quickly as he can.
.
When, one morning, Jimin decides to limit his food consumption to the amount that would satisfy a five-year-old child and cut another hour of sleep to exercise, Taehyung turns on Jungkook to ask him for help on stopping Jimin from going too far. But instead of heartily agreeing with Taehyung and trying to boost Jimin’s self-confidence like he usually would, Jungkook offers to accompany Jimin on his diet and exercise plan so that at least Jimin will have someone to support him. Taehyung frowns at them both before sighing exasperatedly, and warning them not to blame him if they collapse from malnutrition.
“Are you sure about this?” Jimin asks that night after everybody else has left the dance practice room and only the two remain, exhausted, hungry and drenched with sweat. He glances at Jungkook curiously. “You’re still growing.”
Growing uncomfortable under Jimin’s gaze, Jungkook focuses on the water bottle in his hand. “Bet you wish you were.”
Jimin’s smile is sickeningly kind. “I mean it. You should be eating properly, you’re still developing. Don’t let me have a bad influence on you. I wouldn’t want you to harm your health.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook insists. He doesn’t want Jimin’s concern making him feel like a child; Jimin’s only two years older, for heaven’s sake.
Jimin sighs and pauses for a moment. “Just… be careful, ok? Don’t push yourself too far or do something you’ll regret. You’re still young.”
Jungkook doesn’t really need the reminder about his age. He knows he’s young; he knows he’s small. But maybe, when his jawline becomes more prominent and his body becomes more muscular like Jimin’s, his youth won’t be thrown in his face so often.
.
He slumps into his chair and rests his hot forehead on the cool desk, ignoring the growling of his stomach, the aching of his shoulders, and the blatant stares of his classmates. It’s been almost a month since he and Jimin have started their diet, and Jungkook is exhausted, both mentally and physically. He barely has the energy to move, let alone smile and talk to people who despise him.
“Hey,” drawls one of the boys in the row in front, “why don’t you even acknowledge us anymore? Are we that beneath you?”
With an enormous effort and a twinge of anxiety, Jungkook lifts his head and attempts a smile in the boy’s direction, though it ends up looking more like a grimace. “Good morning,” he says quietly.
The boy scoffs as Jungkook closes his eyes and lays his head back down.
“Kid’s got his head in the clouds,” sneers another.
The entrance of the teacher saves him from having to converse any further, but his results from last week’s tests actually succeed in bringing his mood down even more. Jungkook’s head is anywhere but the clouds.
.
Jungkook is slowly but surely buckling under the pressure of his new lifestyle, but what confuses him is how energetic Jimin still seems to be. While Jungkook becomes sloppier and makes more mistakes during dance practices, Jimin’s moves become sharper and more refined. And while Jungkook drags himself through the day, unsmiling, unmotivated and lonely, Jimin thrives on being and joking around with the others, thoroughly enjoying even his early morning jogs with Jungkook and their shared apple for breakfast.
The other members easily notice the change in Jungkook, but when they ask him about it or try to help him, he brushes it off, saying it’s probably just a phase from stress. He doesn’t know how to tell them that he’s frightened sick that they are disappointed in him, disappointed at how the wonder kid they praised too much and lifted too high now can’t live up to his name. He can’t look any of them in the eye after his voice cracks during a live performance — especially not Seokjin, who only had one line in the entire song, and who would certainly have done a better job singing the chorus than Jungkook — apologising repeatedly at his shoes and not speaking for the rest of the day. He doesn’t even consider telling anyone about school — as if his failures within the group aren’t enough. He doesn’t want them thinking he’s complaining. He’s in no position to complain. Without Bangtan he’d be nothing, but Bangtan could still carry on just as well without him.
Early one morning, after another restless night, Jungkook wakes to find Jimin’s face hovering right above him.
“Come on, let’s go!” he whispers, perhaps a little too excitably at the prospect of a damp 6am jog.
Jungkook agrees groggily and motions for Jimin to go wait for him in the living room. It takes him even more willpower to leave the warmth of his bed today than usual.
“How are you so energetic at this time?” Jungkook asks in disbelief as Jimin pulls his shoes on with far too much gusto.
Jimin shrugs. “I feel motivated. Like… I’m actually succeeding at this, you know?”
No, Jungkook doesn’t know, but he nods anyway, slips his shoes on, and stretches to alleviate the aches embedded in his body.
“What’s that?”
Jungkook freezes. “What’s what?”
Jimin slowly steps closer to him and lifts the hem of his t-shirt, revealing skin stained with blues and purples. “What’s this?” he asks quietly.
Images of the crowded school corridor cloud Jungkook’s mind… the overwhelming and terrifying feeling of being pressed between so many loud people… the boy and his friends from class squeezing their way through towards him…
He inhales sharply and pushes Jimin’s hand away. “Nothing.”
“Jungkook…”
Avoiding Jimin’s alarmed look, Jungkook rushes past him to the door.
.
Three weeks on, Jungkook’s face has lost some of its roundness: his features are sharper, more angular. Even his chest and shoulders are slightly broader. There’s no other way to put it: he looks older. But this doesn’t stop rough hands painting new shades of purple on his body repeatedly, or make him feel any less lonely and insignificant. He can now actually challenge Jimin in an arm wrestle instead of being defeated in five seconds flat, but what use is being physically stronger if he can’t even muster up the courage to stand up for himself? No, he’s nowhere near feeling successful like Jimin.
Hoseok whines about how Jungkook doesn’t mess around with them anymore, and how he’s grown up too quickly, and then proceeds to prod and pinch Jungkook’s sides to show how he’s lost too much weight. He doesn’t notice Jungkook wince in pain when his fingers come into contact with already abused flesh, but Jimin narrows his eyes from where’s he’s watching in the corner of the room.
Jimin doesn’t ask him about the bruises again, but is quiet and careful around him, which Jungkook finds even more infuriating than an annoyingly inquisitive Jimin. The silence when the two take a short break at 1am is inviting, because Jungkook knows they’re both thinking about it, and he’s angry at himself for debating how simple it would be to show Jimin he was willing to talk, and let Jimin slowly pull everything out of him. But he can’t. He’d probably end up stuttering or crying in front of Jimin, and he can’t face that sort of humiliation. He was supposed to be growing up and becoming more mature, but right now Jungkook feels more vulnerable and child-like than he has in a long time.
So he closes himself off even further, mentally distances himself from Jimin, and only keeps his feigned smile on for as long as the cameras are facing him. Of course, after a few days of this new tactic, Jimin seems to realise that Jungkook isn’t going to initiate any conversation, and so he takes to spending as many waking hours stuck to Jungkook’s side as he can, which only makes keeping his mouth shut harder for Jungkook.
.
“Jungkook, you got a text,” Jimin announces. He knows he shouldn’t pry, but when the phone lights up, he can’t help but see out of the corner of his eye that the first few lines of the text contain copious amounts of swearing.
Jungkook ambles towards the table and snatches his phone up. After a short moment, his face begins to pale and he gnaws at his lower lip.
“Is… everything ok?” Jimin asks cautiously.
Jungkook starts and looks at Jimin in surprise, as though he’d forgotten he was there. “Yeah—” he begins with a thick voice. He clears his voice and repeats, “yeah,” more to himself than to Jimin. But his shaking hand, stuffed quickly into his pocket and hidden from sight, doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Jungkook, you know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you?” Jimin says slowly. “I’ve not brought up what happened that morning because… well I was hoping you’d want to talk to me… or someone else about it.”
The younger boy stiffens visibly. “There’s nothing to talk about. I told you it was nothing.”
“Jungkook,” Jimin says, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “What do you gain from keeping it to yourself? I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh in over a month. Why don’t you talk to us and see if there’s something we can do to hel—”
“There’s nothing you can do to help.”
“Well then at least talk—”
“It’s not just that.”
Jimin’s eyebrows draw together. Jungkook’s chest is rising and falling rapidly and Jimin notices a slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
“What is it?” Jimin asks after a long pause.
Jungkook finally looks him in the eye, and Jimin realises with a pang how young Jungkook looks with his wide eyes and unsure, nervous expression. He pulls his mouth from side to side, then nods his head slightly and licks his lips.
But before Jungkook can say anything, the living room door is thrown open, and Yoongi, Hoseok and Taehyung march in. Jimin watches in frustration and worry as Jungkook seems to deflate, his confidence being muffled out by the others’ loud voices and obnoxious laughter. Jungkook makes no sign for the rest of the evening that he almost spilled his worries out to Jimin, sitting awkwardly on the floor at the edge of the room and uncomfortably responding whenever he’s dragged into the conversation by one of the older members and all eyes are on him, and later goes to bed with a stiff “goodnight”.
.
The next morning, Jungkook skips his usual jog with Jimin to watch Hoseok practise for a special stage instead. This turns out to be just as bad an idea, Jungkook realises bitterly, as he can’t help but admire the effortless way Hoseok moves and feels. He thinks of his own unimaginative dancing, and looks down at his hands in shame.
“Hey,” puffs a voice above him.
Jungkook looks up and watches anxiously as Jimin plops himself on the wooden floor beside him, back against the wall. Jimin’s bound to ask about yesterday — he won’t let it go, not after Jungkook came so close to completely slipping up and confessing everything. Jungkook sighs and leans his head back, wondering how long this day will be.
“You could say hi back,” Jimin says, a frown marring his features. “Rude.”
“I — sorry,” Jungkook says quickly. Jimin seems to be the only person who still enjoys his company, and he doesn’t want to add him as well to the long list of people he has disappointed. “I didn’t mean to —”
“Why didn’t you come with me this morning?” Jimin interrupts.
“I wanted to watch Hoseok hyung,” Jungkook replies simply.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” Jungkook says quietly. He’s about to add something more, but decides against it.
“You think I’m going to pester you until I wheedle it out of you, don’t you?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond.
“I’m trying to help you, Jungkook,” Jimin sighs. “I want to help you. Whatever is going wrong for you… I want it to go right. But I’m not going to force you to say anything if you don’t want to. I just… wish you would. For your own sake.”
The heaviness inside of Jungkook threatens to lift slightly, but Jungkook tries to squash it back down in confusion at Jimin’s genuine concern for him. He turns his head to look at Jimin next to him, and regrets it immediately: something about Jimin’s worried expression is friendly and inviting, and Jungkook feels that same desperate urge to release his fears and doubts from the day before. But maybe Jimin was right? Jungkook hasn’t benefitted from not confiding in anyone about how he feels inferior to the rest of the group, to everyone; to the contrary, the last two months have been a downward spiral, with Jungkook feeling worse and letting more people down the more he doubts himself.
Maybe Jimin is right. Jungkook should say something, quickly, before he changes his mind again. “I—”
Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up before he can compose himself and give Jungkook an encouraging nod.
“I’m — I’m frightened.” Jungkook looks down hastily, wringing his hands with unnecessary force. He won’t cry, he won’t.
“Of what?” Jimin breathes.
Jungkook chews the inside of his cheeks in a kind of desperation, debating how to start. Everything is still, quiet… too quiet.
Hoseok has finally stopped the music, and is walking towards them with a spring in his step. “How is it looking so far?” he asks with a blinding smile.
Jungkook swallows the words that had almost made it to his tongue back down again. “Awesome, hyung,” he says, and mimes cheering enthusiastically.
This seems to satisfy Hoseok, who claps Jungkook on the shoulder fondly, pokes Jimin, and turns to leave the practice room. “Group practice starts next door in ten,” he adds over his shoulder before he disappears.
Jimin observes Jungkook carefully, but the atmosphere is gone. The boy looks thoroughly embarrassed and… disappointed? They sit together for another five minutes in a stifling silence, until Jimin leaves to give Jungkook room to breathe. Jungkook watches Jimin’s retreating back, but the sigh he needs to let out won’t come.
Later, during their group practice, Jungkook is beginning to feel anxious. He’s already so out of breath, so how is he supposed to be able to sing during this part? Why were half the singing parts given to him when he’s already proved time and time again that he’s not competent enough? And why is Namjoon to his left, shouldn’t he be — but no this is the second chorus, so why is Jungkook —
“Jeon Jungkook, what are you playing at? Come here.”
Face burning and heart hammering against his chest, Jungkook shuffles to front of the room with the rest of the members’ eyes latched on to his back.
The choreographer sighs impatiently and taps his foot. “Do you realise you’ve got to perform this to the public in three days?”
Jungkook hangs his head. “Yes.” He can feel the other members shifting behind him, and inwardly curses. They must be beyond irritated with him at this point; how many times had they had to stop and start again today because of him?
“You don’t need me to remind you that you can’t afford to be making so many mistakes now, right? You know better than this.”
Tears threaten to prick at his eyes. Don’t, not again, he thinks, blinking furiously. Everyone’s watching. Don’t be stupid.
“What’s got into you lately? You’ve not exactly been your top self, have you? You can’t be slacking off so much already at this age.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook croaks, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounds. “I’ll try harder.” How much harder can he possibly try?
“You’re going to be at the front for most of the dance,” the choreographer ploughs on. “Everyone’s going to be looking at you. You can’t—”
“It’s ok, I’ll talk to him,” says a voice from behind.
Jungkook’s vision blurs as tears begin to form, but a steady hand on his back guides him out of the room, down the corridor and into an empty studio. After hearing the low thud of the door closing, Jungkook turns and makes out Jimin’s features before him. Jimin opens his mouth to say something, but closes it after again after a pause. Dim room or not, Jungkook still feels beyond embarrassed when the first tear rolls down his cheek, so he presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin holds him tight, fingers massaging circles into Jungkook’s shaking elbow, and lets him wet his shirt.
“I’m sorry… I was supposed to be growing up,” Jungkook mumbles against the damp fabric, “not crying like a baby after a little scolding. It wasn’t even a scolding… he wasn’t even angry… I don’t know what I was thinking… I’m sorry…”
“Jungkook,” Jimin says softly, pulling the boy upright by the shoulders, “grown-ups cry, too, you know? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Jungkook peers at Jimin cautiously, deeply conscious of the wetness still clinging to his eyelashes. “You’re all really disappointed in me, aren’t you? I keep messing up.”
Jimin smiles. “We all have our bad days. Nobody’s holding it against you, if that’s what you’re frightened about.”
“I’ve been having a bad day for more than two months,” Jungkook says with an attempt at a snort, but his bottom lip quivers and his shoulders are still tense. “Not really the same thing.”
“No, it’s not,” Jimin says, cocking his head to the side. “But they know you’re having a rough time. They want to help you, but you need to stop pushing them away.”
“I’m not… pushing them away. I just…”
“You just?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Sometimes I just feel… like I’m not good enough.” He looks down at his feet. “I’m not as good as you all make me out to be, and I’m scared. I feel so small and useless and unnecessary — I’ve got so much I need to be doing right — I’m trying so hard, honestly — but I’m not doing any of it — I’m failing everything, both this and school — nothing’s working out — and I don’t know how to make it better — you’re all so much older and better than me — I’ll never be as good as any of you — or good enough for any of you — I just…” he finishes with a heavy sigh, “I’m exhausted.”
There’s a moment of silence as Jimin processes his outburst, and Jungkook feels thoroughly self-conscious. This is the first time he’s opened up to any of the members so much, and now he feels as though he’s been stripped completely bare for Jimin to scrutinise. But then Jimin pulls Jungkook into his arms again and for once, Jungkook doesn’t mind feeling small.
“How can you seriously think you’re not good enough?” Jimin asks bemusedly. “We’re not exaggerating your talent, you idiot. You’re fantastic at everything, and honestly, I’m jealous. You should stop this stupid diet now, alright? And then once you’ve got your energy back you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
Jungkook looks at Jimin searchingly, but finds no trace of insincerity.
“I mean it,” Jimin continues earnestly. “Please believe me; believe in yourself, please. Don’t let what anyone else says tarnish your confidence in yourself. You know how talented and skilled and determined you are — how important you are to us.”
Jungkook nods slowly, though still slightly doubtful.
“There we go,” Jimin says, flashing a bright grin. “You could probably do with a good lie-in. I’ll ask the manager about it. It’ll help in the long run, so he should be fine with it.”
“I can’t,” Jungkook whispers, the weight that had been slightly relieved by Jimin’s words crashing back down. “I’ve got school tomorrow morning.”
Jimin stiffens against him. “It’ll help even more, then, right?”
Jungkook sees the knowing look in Jimin’s eyes, and nods again.
“I’ll get the manager to give you the morning off, don’t worry about it. I’ll get the others to back me up, too, if I need it.”
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Jungkook buries his face back into Jimin’s shoulder, before he can make a blubbering mess of himself again. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispers. “Really.”
“Don’t mention it,” says Jimin, reaching out his hands to support Jungkook’s unstable form. “But,” he adds after a comfortable pause, “you need to do something about school. Avoiding the issue won’t make it better.”
It takes a moment for Jungkook to quietly agree.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Jimin sighs in relief. “Good. You’re worth so much more than this. You deserve so much better.”
“So do you.”
“What?” Jimin moves his head to look at Jungkook curiously, whose face is still hidden behind his shirt.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says quickly. “It’s just… you should probably stop the diet too. It not being healthy, and all, like you said. You said it, not me!”
“Right,” says Jimin, a smug smile pulling at his lips.
“Shut up.”
Jimin finally lets out the laugh he’s been holding in. Jungkook is trying to thank him in only the dumb way Jungkook would manage, but he’s still clinging to Jimin in embarrassment, and this whole situation is ridiculous.“Brat.”
.
Caught amongst the hectic blur of strenuous schedules during the day and endless nights in the practice room, Jungkook feels tired. But with his talent, skill and determination to match that of his older members, he’s satisfied.