Work Text:
About the fourth time Jimin drifts off in front of the stove, eyes dragging heavier and heavier each time he startles awake to half-heartedly stir his ramyeon, he admits to himself if no one else that he's really fucking worn out and only thing keeping him upright is the fact that his work’s showcase is finally happening tomorrow. He doesn't think he's slept well in a month. Choreographies fight with seating fights with decorations every time he so much as closes his eyes, and he can hear the music his company is working on repeat. Ad nauseum. If he never has to hear this arrangement again, it'll be too soon.
Squinting, he fumbles with the stove knobs. Click, click, and they're off. It's probably been long enough for his noodles to be cooked by now.
Even if it isn't, Jimin thinks morosely, it's not like anyone else is eating with him. It's just Jimin and his ramyeon and his lonely assortment of poorly aging banchan, all crowded together on the low table that doubles as his coffee table whenever he has guests over. Work never helps with having company. Jimin is buried in his work with the local theater scene, which doesn't lend itself to meeting people. Either he meets people who do understand his workload because theirs is the same, or they think that they can be the ones who change him.
Neither is a happy middle, not really.
Besides...
Jimin glances down, mouth twisting to the side as he chews. A single, red line within an intricate circle. Even as he lifts his wrist to stare, it stays pointed in the same direction, pulled by a force no scientist has been able to explain.
"Well," he says, voice nearly lost in the quiet of the room, "you never waver, do you?"
The compass on the inside of his wrist holds true. Pointing to his soulmate. West, as ever. West, as always. West, the way Jimin fears it may always be.
("The compass will guide you home," his mother told him from when he was very young, her thumb petal soft as she stroked the skin where the compass ring was just now beginning to form. "That home will be a person who understands your heart better than anyone. But it's up to you to find them, and to learn them. Intuition counts, but-"
"But hard work is better than anything else," Jimin finished with her, flashing his mom a toothy (and toothless, it was that time of his life) grin. "I remember."
She smiled at him. He hadn't understood then why it would need to point to anyone outside of his family. They were his world.
But, they were not his heart.)
It doesn't have to be west, is the thing. Jimin knows this. It’s a fact that lives behind his ribcage alongside his beating heart. He knows it as he finishes his lackluster, lonely dinner. He knows it as he tidies up his meager dishes. He knows it as he goes to lie down, his mattress more forgiving than his tumultuous heart. He could stop living in suspense anytime, if he just got up and left Busan and followed the compass where it led. Taehyung did that a year ago. He got fed up with waiting for his soulmate to make the move and went on a trip, winding back up in Daegu and face to face with one Min Yoongi.
The way Taehyung tells it, the clouds parted and the sun shone down to illuminate his grumpy-faced soulmate, who proceeded to shut down every effort Taehyung made to ask him out. Yoongi says Taehyung yelled at him from across the street without explaining anything that was going on, which Jimin is - sorry, Taehyung - inclined to believe, if only because Taehyung probably did get too excited to fully explain himself. But even with such a rocky start, things worked out. Yoongi is even talking about moving in with Taehyung or vice-versa.
And in the meantime, well.
Daegu and Busan aren't that far apart, Taehyung insists. Not for them.
Jimin likes Yoongi well enough for agreeing with him.
But.
His phone vibrates, and all Jimin's thoughts go out the window.
Hope: Jwimiiiiiim
It’s like he knows. It’s like he knows Jimin wants to talk to him and has missed him all day. It feels silly, to be so attached to someone he’s only met on Starcraft. Neither of them are particularly good at it, but Jimin keeps odd hours and running into Hope started as a coincidence and turned into something to look forward to. And then, turned.
Well, it turned into this.
It turns into Jimin, heart racing as he answers a text message.
Jwimim: hooooobi!!!
Jwimim: how r u??? I feel like i haven’t seen you online lately
Hope: i’m good!!! Busy!!!
Hope: and missing you too angelface
Jwimim: is it work stuff?
Hope: GROANS
Jwimim: oh me too buddy
Hope: buddy :(((
Jwimim: pal
Hope: PAL :(((((
Jwimim: loml
Hope: that’s more like it
Jimin rolls onto his side, grinning, covers tossed up over his head. It's silly, but it makes him feel closer to Hope, more like these conversations are as intimate as they seem. Held under the blankets in the dark. Only, instead of trying to catch any minute movement that gives away Hope's expressions, he's parsing out tone through text. Hoping that what he wants to see is what's actually there.
Hope: N E WAYS
Hope: I actually came to deliver! Some bad news :(
Jwimim: Not a sandcastle invite?
Hope: not today, or for a bit :(((
Hope: I’ll be out of town next week :( So I won’t be able to talk as much :((((
Jwimim: aw :( :( :(
It’s hard to know exactly what to say. Jimin dithers over it for a few minutes, starting and stopping a number of sentences that don’t encapsulate the twinge of sadness Jimin feels. He doesn’t know what Hope does for a living. He’s cagey about his personal life in a way that Jimin, frankly, understands but regrets. He wants Hope to feel safe with him, and that’s translated to not asking a lot of questions unless the information is volunteered. He knows so much about Hope and his personality and his interests and dreams, but as far as Hope’s career or location, it’s a black hole.
Not that Jimin can really say much. He’s not the most forthcoming about his own life either. Jimin loves to share, but doesn’t want to just offer the information if there’s no interest.
So Hope never asks, and Jimin never answers.
His gaze catches on the dark shadow of his wrist. Jimin wonders, breathless, the way he can’t quite stop himself from doing.
Jwimim: I’ll miss you :( send me as many messages as you can, okay?
Hope: I will!! don't worry sugarplum, you're still going to be number 1 in my thoughts
Jwimim: sugarplum?? gross
Hope: oh sowwwyyyy aegi-yah, hobi's sowwy, hobi fowgwot jwimimmie wikes to be baby
Jwimim: hyuuuung that's over the top!! now you're just doing that to be annoying
Hope: nuh-uh i'm doing it to be cute!
Hope: call me cute!! hyung's doing it all for you!!
Jwimim: suddenly i think i won't miss you at all next week if this is how you're acting
Hope: lol you don't mean that
Jwimim: lol yeah no i don't
Jwimim: but it's okay, i'm also going to be pretty busy. my company is hosting a big competition and I gotta be on top of things
Hope: oohhhh Jimin~!!! so tough so strong~!!! so capable~!!!!
Hope: well when you need a break from being large and in charge-
Hope: (see it's funny because you're shorter than me)
Jwimim: mmhmm
Hope: -let me know
Jwimim: didn't you JUST say you were going to be busy??
Hope: well yeah
Hope: but i'll make time for you
Jimin's heart races. He can feel his face radiating heat, and he circles his legs together just for something to do , some way to redirect all his internal squirming externally. Get it out . There's no way Hope means it the way Jimin wants him to. Better not to get his hopes up.
(But also, his heart whispers, tingling with butterflies, what else could he possibly mean? Aside from what Jimn wants to hear?)
Jwimim: aw hyung
Jwimim: you don't have to, it's okay! Your Jiminie can handle himself for a week
Hope: >:(
Hope: you're right, i don't have to
The message is a gut punch. Jimin curls tight, wincing as all the excitement turns sickly.
Hope: but i WANT to
Hope types off and on for a few seconds, clearly rethinking what he's trying to say, and Jimin watches the notification flicker off and on, his heart in his throat.
Hope: i'll always want to make time for you, baby
Hope: no matter what
God . Jimin groans into the hot, humid air trapped under the blanket, and tosses off the cover, the spell of intimacy overwhelmed and broken. Too much. Too, too much, and so many things that Jimin could get wrong, tricking himself into seeing only what he wants to.
Jwimim: my sweet hyung~!
Jwimim: i’ll let you know if my work gives me a moment’s rest
Jwimim: but speaking of rest
Hope: Ah, yeah, it’s bedtime for you, huh?
Hope: goodnight, baby
Jwimim: Good night, hyung!
There’s no answer. Hope’s responsible like that, even if Jimin doesn’t want him to be.
“Why have you never asked,” he murmurs into his pillow, words indistinct and caught in cotton, eyes hazily fixed on the slipping sideways sight of his compass. West, west, west. “Why have you never asked, when I’ve wanted you to so badly?”
And then, “Why have I never asked, when I want to know you so much, when I want to know who you are and how you’re doing and what you’re thinking about all the time? Why can’t I just make myself ask ?”
(Fear, as it usually does, answers, keeping this again as only an impossible dream.)
True to his word, Hope is silent for the next week, which Jimin misses because Jimin is so busy getting everything ready that he barely has time, much less brainspace, for anything else, even something as nice as Hope. It’s hectic. And the day of the event is even worse. Jimin is organizing the stage, making sure every group that’s come in for the showcase has a room and practice time, making sure the seating area is ready for the audience.
He’s giving an incoming group directions when Jungkook, one of the newly hired stage assistants-
(“I’ve been here for two years, hyung, you’re going to have to stop calling me new at some point,” Jungkook says, the way he does every time Jimin calls him new. He’ll never stop, not when it’s so funny.)
-comes up behind him and makes a shocked little noise. “Uh. Hyung? Is your compass moving?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed.
Jimin’s eyes dart down. His compass, which has held steadily west, towards the other side of South Korea from Busan for as long as Jimin has known it bar a few twitches here and there, is shifting frequently, and when Jimin takes two large steps sideways, it- moves. Like the person it’s pointing to is nearby. And also moving. And here.
His heart kick-gallops into a wild beat.
"Oh my god," Jimin whispers.
"Y'know," Taehyung starts, staring at Jimin's wrist with Jungkook beside him, both of them wearing curious expressions like a dissection is about to be performed in front of them, “somehow, I always expected you to be way more jazzed about this than you are right now. Because, no offense, Chim, you look like you're about to be sick."
"It's the worst timing in the whole world! How am I not supposed to feel sick!" Jimin stamps his foot. "I need to be focused on the showcase, not… this."
"But your soulmate is a dancer. Isn't that nice?" Taehyung cocks his head. “That’s one of your big types.”
"But what if they aren’t? What if my soulmate is here for their partner? Then they’d have to give up their relationship for me.”
“You wouldn't want them if they did that,” Jungkook admonishes gently, and Jimin groans because it's true.
Somewhere across the hall, someone lights up with a loud peel of laughter, and it shivers down the center of Jimin’s back because what if-
He cuts himself off. End the thoughts there, Jimin. No matter how much he wants to hare off and fill his lungs with sunflower dust and the sweetness of newly discovered potential, he has a job to do. Jimin would never forgive himself.
Shaking his head, he turns to Taehyung and Jungkook. “Look I just. While we watch everyone I need you to do me a favor, okay? Just. Cover my wrist. Don't let me see until after I'm done. I have to focus.”
Taehyung’s expression is gentle, understanding. “You don’t have to be scared, y’know.”
“I’m not scared ,” Jimin insists. His arms cross over his stomach, vulnerable and aching with it. Tumultuous. He has no reason to be so nervous. Taehyung has a point; he’s wanted to meet his soulmate ever since his compass point fixed in place, holding a steady westward bend. But what if his soulmate doesn’t want to meet him ?
They never came to him. Admittedly, Jimin never did either. Neither of them really tried to find each other. Every few months, Jimin gets the itch to get on a bus and see how far he has to go before the direction changes and then follow it ever inward, but. He never has.
“I don’t think you’re scared,” says Jungkook. He shoots Jimin a shit-eating grin, which does nothing to soothe Jimin’s frazzled nerves. “I just think you know who you want your soulmate to be and you don’t want to find out if it’s not him.”
Oh no. Not this again. Mortified, Jimin groans. Slumping against Taehyung, he whines, “It could have just been us, Taehyung-ah. We could have followed our pact to get aligned to pop stars in Seoul and end up in a platonic marriage together because of course we couldn’t be with our superstar soulmates and never would have had to deal with this uncertainty, but no , you go and settle for someone else.”
“ Me ?” Taehyung says, affronted. He jabs his finger into Jimin’s side, finding all his ticklish spots until Jimin is breathless and squirming and protesting. “Just because I settled first! And besides, you’ve been head over heels for your Hope ,” delivered in a teasing sing-song, “ever since the two of you started talking years ago!”
Which.
Okay.
True. But Jimin doesn’t like to admit it. He shoves against Taehyung's shoulder. Saying that he wants to be soulmates with someone he met through playing Starcraft is just. Embarrassing. Especially when they've never met.
Another group takes the stage for their final blocking, and Jimin shakes all this off. Taking Jungkook and Taehyung's hands in his own, he pleads, “Just. Please. Keep me distracted. Don’t let me stop to look right now. I can have the time later to deal with it."
And Taehyung and Jungkook, who know him well enough to know not to kid around anymore, place their free hands over his wrist and nod.
For a while, it works.
Jimin gets caught back up in the rush of getting everything set up, and any time he pauses and lifts his wrist up, Jungkook or Taehyung is there, hand blocking his sight and directing him somewhere else. The tug that tells him to move, to seek and find, hooks underneath his breastbone. An aching weight.
Right before the last group goes up for their checks, Jimin finally gives in to the urge that's been eating at him since the morning.
He messages Hope.
Jwimim: hey
Jwimim: i’m kind of freaking out and i trust and value your advice and i know we don’t really talk about personal stuff like IRL things (we talk plenty personal stuff)
God. This is going well. Focus, Jimin.
Jwimim: but if you happen to have a moment that’d be great bc i … really need to talk to someone about this
Jwimim: and my friends are perfect like they're being great about this but I
Jwimim: idk i want to talk to you about it i guess
Jwimim: when you get a chance anyways
Jwimim: let me know???
He waits, checking his phone between sets, the frizzle of anxiety pitching up every time he doesn't even get a "read" status. Hope hasn't been on at all. Jimin's eyes sting with frustration.
Then, just as the showcase starts and Jimin is huddled backstage, his phone pings softly.
Hope: hey I saw your texts
Hope: sorry it took me so long (I haven't gotten to be on my phone much) but are you okay?? Is everything alright?
Hope: do I have to fistfight someone?
Jwimim: no!!
Jwimim: no I just uh
Jwimim: I think my soulmate is here?
Hope: oh my god!
Jwimim: and I. Am kinda freaking out about it
Hope types on and off again for a few minutes. Jimin spends the interim pacing anxiously. Backstage is too small to really get going without really getting in someone's way, so the constant heel-turns he does make his head spin.
Hope: Well
Hope: tell me about it?? what's going on
Hope: is this a good freakout or a bad one
Jimin lets out a breath and sinks down, crouching over his knees.
Jwimim: both? neither??
Jwimim: it would be good but like, right now?
Jwimim: this is a bad time
Jwimim: like i’m the organizer for a big dance event right now and i don’t need to be distracted when ‘m trying to be on top of things.
Hope: oh
Jwimim: I wish i could be excited,
Jwimim: I want to be excited so bad
Jwimim: i know we don’t share details like this, but
Hope: no, it's okay sweetheart
Jwimim: i wanted to meet my soulmate when i had time to idk enjoy it??
Jwimim: god that sounds so selfish
Hope: well hey your soulmate will understand
God, Jimin hopes so. Jimin wants nothing more than to believe what Hope’s saying, his fractious heart aching. Nothing is assured. What if Jimin is the first person whose soulmate hates him on sight? It could happen.
Jwimim: even if this is the first time we’ve been in the same city? And it wasn’t planned?
Hope: especially then, especially because this wasn’t planned. Your soulmate will understand that you need to do whatever you need to
Jimin chances a quick glance at his compass point. It's been waving around wildly until just recently, and now it's come to a complete stop, as though whoever is on the other side has stopped moving. He runs a thumb across the marking, smiling faintly.
Hope: you’ll get the time to know them properly
Jwimim: ugh that is exactly what i needed to hear
Jwimim: i wish
Jwimim:: aaaaAAAA never mind i have to. Go
Hope: no no i get it
Hope: I wish too.
(He doesn't see it until later, between groups as they perform for the audience. But the simple message winds Jimin anyway, makes his heart beat wildly and hope for impossible things.
Hope: you're doing amazing, I hope you know that
Hope: and your soulmate is going to be so lucky to meet you later
Jimin clutches his phone to his chest, peering out at the bright stage, and hopes.)
It isn't until near the end that Jimin hears Taehyung suck in a sharp breath.
"What? What is it?" Jimin asks without looking away from the stage. It's hard to, with the group performing right now. He'd have to double check, but he's pretty sure they're called Neuron, and their lead dancer is phenomenal. Jimin's hanving a difficult time looking anywhere else but at him.
"Babe," murmurs Taehyung. His large hand wraps around Jimin's wrist, covering the marking before Jimin can even glance at it. "Babe, your log pose."
And Jimin knows.
He's dizzy with it, watching the lead body roll, his eyes sharp and focused as he hits every beat with an accuracy that Jimin feels in his bones. "They're on stage, aren't they?" he asks, following Taehyung's One Piece reference, the way he’s covering Jimin’s soulmark. "Right now."
Neuron is absolutely mesmerizing as they dance. The whole group moves with the coordination borne of long practice under a watchful eye, with a chemistry that's undeniable. And yet, Jimin can't keep his eyes off their leader, his charisma and stage presence razor sharp, forcing his gaze back time and time again. His expressions burn into Jimin’s memory, fierce, as much a part of the performance as everything else. Not a step is out of place. Not a movement is wasted. From the wings, Jimin doesn't even get the best view of their blocking, but he can tell how much care has been put into the staging, how it will be seen by the audience, and it illuminates the love and passion that went into the performance.
Jimin doesn't know , but.
What would it be like, to be with someone capable of bringing that to bear?
All too soon, the performance wraps up. The dancers take their bow. Jimin hurries back to his position, helping clear everything out for the awards. He doesn't look down at his compass. He doesn't dare. Taehyung and Jungkook shoot him glances as they help pack up chairs and take down signs. They're almost done, and then-
And then.
That long, bright peal of laughter. Jimin turns towards it like a flower, like the sounding of temple drums, wondering if maybe, just maybe, but-
"They'll understand," Hope's words whisper. "They'll understand."
Jimin hopes so, because as soon as they're done, as soon as Jimin's duties are complete, he begs off any afterparty and leaves for the one place he can let go.
Turning his face into the salt-tinged breeze, Jimin breathes in with the rush of waves and out when he feels as though he can't hold it any longer. The ocean at night is no more settled than during the day. Jimin can't see where the water fades into the horizon, his eyes pricking already with keeping track of the waves. He doesn't go too far in, having just rolled up his pants to his knees, shoes and socks clutched in one hand. He paces the beach. Jimin's feet make wet slapping noises with every step.
From the corner of his eye, his compass point turns. Jimin about-faces, and it turns again, then shifts, tracking the not-so-distant movement of his soulmate.
Hope: hey sorry i was at dinner
Hope: how did it go??
Hope: did you meet your soulmate
Jimin laughs, the sound swallowed by the sea.
Jwimim: no
Jwimim: no i couldn't
Hope: oh
Hope: did you... not want to?
Jwimim: i'm just
Jwimim: i'm freaking out about this actually??
Jwimim: i've been so busy all day today and we never actually sought each other out before this and now i'm sort of scared of what that means?
Jwimim: like what if that means they never wanted to meet me and now i've ruined it by being here
Hope: jimin...
Jwimim: on one hand it's sorta romantic that we're finding each other organically like this
Jwimim: but on the other, we didn't mean to meet up and what if that means that we're not ready??
Jwimim: sorry i'm just like
Jwimim: i'm going in circles over this. i feel like i'm going crazy
Hope: no no i get you
Hope: it doesn't have to mean anything, you know
Hope: meeting your soulmate
Hope: the real question is... do you WANT to?
Hope: meet them, that is
Jimin looks out over the waves. His heart is in his throat, his compass pointing towards his soul. All day, he's been more nervous than anything else, wondering if he's going to miss meeting possibly the greatest love of his life. And for the first time, he recognizes the nervous flutter in his heart as excitement.
If not now, then when?
Jwimim: yes
Jwimim: yes, i've waited YEARS to meet them
Jwimim: I don't want to miss this just because I'm a little scared.
Hope: Okay! Okay.
Hope types on and off, taking so long that Jimin lowers his phone down to pace by the frothy edge of the ocean, his feet sinking unevenly into the sand. The water is cold, but it helps him focus his thoughts.
Hope: Hey so uh
Hope: wild question
Hope: and hopefully not to be creepy
Hope: but are you in Busan right now?
Jwimim: yes?
There’s a pause.
Hope: Jimin, are you by the sea right now?
Jimin’s heart skips a beat. Then thuds, heavy and hard. He stops his pacing, fingers shaking as he types. The wide wings of hope fill his lungs with every breath. He couldn't possibly mean...
Jwimim: How did you know that?
Hope: okay um, please don’t freak out
Hope: But you should maybe look up?
Hope: And maybe don’t freak out when you see a gangly, nerdy foolish looking guy whose probably sweating buckets out here and who has been trying to say hi for the last like five minutes but doesn’t know how to without seeming like a stalker
Hope: but hey!
Hope: It’s your hope
Heart beating wildly, thrumming like a drum to a frenzied hummingbird’s flutter, Jimin looks up. His eyes catch on his wrist, red line of his compass pointing in front of him, and, following the line up, Jimin sees him. Exactly as described. A very nervous, reedy looking guy, fidgeting with his phone and his long, pretty fingers, sweating buckets. He's the charismatic dancer Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off of earlier.
Jimin exhales sharply. “Hobi?”
A step forward. Hope lifts his hand in a nervous wave. Jimin’s gaze cuts immediately to his wrist, and. Yeah. Yeah, okay! Yeah, that’s a thing. “Hi! Surprise!” He licks his lips, and his smile is somehow even more devastating off-stage than it was on-stage, when Hope lets his eyes crinkle and the wide heart shape of his smile fully bloom. "Jung Hoseok, by the way. You can keep calling me Hobi, Jimin-ah."
"How long have you known?" Jimin feels like his voice comes from a distance, disbelief and joy warring within him.
Hoseok shrugs, taking a few cautious steps closer. He flinches away from the cold waves, but doesn't move any further up the beach, braving the cold, dark water for Jimin. "I wanted it to be my Starcraft buddy since forever. But I knew it was you sometime this morning. I started looking for you, but you basically asked me to wait. So. I held off. And then my team took me to dinner, and, well. Yeah."
“Why didn’t you ever come find me?”
“I wanted to be ready. I know it sounds silly but I kept getting so worked up and sick with anxiety about it, because I wanted to make sure that I would treat you, the most important person in my life, well. I never wanted to take you for granted just because we’re fated to be, and I hope that’s okay. I wanted to be good to you.” Hoseok swallows. Grins, unsteady. "And I really, really wanted it to be Jwimim-ah, my sweet Starcraft friend."
Jimin covers his mouth. Shit. That's. Romantic. He can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he shakes his head, dashing them away. "That’s fine. I didn’t look for you either for the exact same reason. I was scared and I wanted to be good enough and I didn’t know how to be."
"Well, Park Jimin, I know you, and you seem pretty perfect to me. You’re," and Hoseok has already lost steam, staring intently at Jimin's face. Jimin's achingly aware of how he must look, wild-eyed and wind-tossed, but Hoseok looks at him like he's the most beautiful thing that's ever been. He touches Jimin with such gentle fingertips, expression open and awed, and it makes Jimin's head spin. “God, you’re beautiful,” he finishes, breathless and soft.
Licking his lips, Jimin stares at Hoseok. His heart shouldn’t be pounding this much. He’s unfocused, difficult to see in the silver-limmed moonlight, and his eyes trace Jimin's face with an infinite tenderness. This isn’t what Jimin expected when he met his soulmate. But.
“You’re so perfect," Hoseok says with a laugh. Like he's lucky. Like he can't believe his luck.
"I’ve wanted it to be you since we started talking," Jimin admits, just barely audible over the waves. "That was half of my fear. That I would go looking and it wouldn’t be you and I would hate that." He cups Hoseok’s cheeks and traces his face with his thumbs. “But hey, it’s,” he laughs, smile eclipsing his whole view, lit up like the sun from within with joy, "I'm so glad it's really you."
Hoseok smiles, gentle as he caresses the soft skin of Jimin’s neck. “Come here.”
“I’m already right here.”
“No, no, close your eyes. And stay still.”
Jimin frowns, narrows his eyes. Hoseok taps him on the spine, pleading and compelling somehow even with the mild motion, and after a few long moments of silent deliberation, Jimin gives in. He waits there, hovering in the darkness, with the gentle warmth radiating from Hoseok and the brush of his breath his only indication that Hoseok has not moved away.
A tap.
A gentle tug.
And he is rewarded for his patience with a kiss. The compass at his wrist settles with a /click/ that is more felt than heard, and Jimin knows if he looks at it now, it will have turned into an intricate compass rose, shaded blue for having met Hoseok. It will always point Jimin towards him, and something about the tangible reminder of Hoseok's presence makes Jimin sigh, opening his mouth for a sweeter, deeper slide of lips as they trade breaths by the sea.
They'll figure out the rest.
("Oh my god, you won? ” Jimin asks a week later, yelling down his headset to Hoseok. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought you knew!" Hoseok protests with a laugh, high and clear and still sending a rush of butterflies up Jimin's stomach, even tinny and not-quite-right the way it is over the phone. "You really didn't stay for any of the awards, did you, wow. So supportive!"
"Shut uuup!" Jimin whines. "I was emotional! I needed some space!"
"Ah yes, space, that's why you're coming to Gwangju to visit me next week," Hoseok muses serenely.
Jimin frowns. "I can always cancel my train tickets, hyung. Go to Seoul with Jungkook instead and see if he can wiggle his way in between RM and Jin the way he wants to so badly."
Immediately Hoseok starts whining, turning up the aegyo to truly unbearable amounts, and Jimin laughs and laughs and runs his thumb across the beautifully wrought compass rose on his wrist, shaped like a bird in flight, pointing him home.)